Untouchable Things (32 page)

“Why the hell would he do that, Michael? Has he ever done something like this before?”

Michael was silent but his suggestion lingered over them. Rebecca wondered if anyone else was thinking it too. Would he do such a thing?

At 10.30 it seemed pointless to keep waiting.

“Listen, I’m sure he’ll call us in the morning and have some perfectly unreasonable explanation.”

Michael and Jake stood up to go; the others hovered uncertainly.

“Do we just leave the door open? He might get burgled.”

“Not in this building; you’d have a job breaking in downstairs.” Jake sounded sure of his facts.

Catherine shifted. “I could lock up. I have his spare key with me.” She looked at the ground. “I keep it on my keychain.”

Just one second. Miss Jarret had spare keys to the flat?

Yes. Something to do with playing his piano, I think.

Or doing his ironing. Rebecca caught Anna’s eye. “What if he’s gone out without his keys?”

Jake checked the hall table. “That’s where he keeps them, isn’t it? No keys here.”

“No hat either.” The black Fedora, Seth’s trademark, was not on its usual peg. “Bit warm for it today, you’d have thought.” José pointed towards the bedroom. “See, his coat’s here.”

They peered through the open bedroom door. Seth’s summer jacket lay on top of mussed-up covers. Rebecca was catapulted back to her last visit and turned away quickly.

Anna frowned. “That’s really weird.”

“What?”

“Well, have you ever known Seth not to make his bed? His place is always immaculate.”

A brief pause while they stared. The mirror above the bed waved indistinct reflections back at them. Charles cleared his throat. “This feels a bit intrusive.”

“Yeah, what if he walks in and sees us staring at his bed?”

“Or his mirror.”

They laughed and moved away. Jake nodded at Catherine. “Let’s lock up then.”

Anna hesitated. “It feels odd just leaving.”

José picked up their jackets. “Anna, he’s a big boy now. You can’t wait up for him like his mother.” The crack in José’s voice betrayed him. He was worried too.

People gathered their music, scripts, pictures and headed for the door. Catherine said casually that she’d tidy up a bit and then lock up. It felt wrong leaving her on her own in Seth’s flat, but there was nothing anyone could do to talk her out of it.

So Miss Jarret stayed behind?

She insisted.

Hmmm. Miss Laurence, I need you to think if there’s any other detail of that evening you haven’t told us.

I’m not hiding anything, you know.

No one’s suggesting that you are. But we do need to run over the whole evening with you again. Just to see if there’s any tiny detail we’ve missed.

ACT 3 - Scene 1

José’s phone spent an undisturbed night by his bed while he himself boomeranged in and out of shadowy dreams of orphans, running machines and red-haired prostitutes. At eight o’clock he texted Anna:
any news?
The reply pinged straight back:
no. tried home phone no answer. might get keys from c and go round later – u coming?

Of course he was. But on his way to the Tube, after two cups of tea and a bowl of muesli, the glare of morning made him feel silly. Jake was right. They were all overreacting. Seth would probably be asleep and they would look like needy idiots. His phone beeped in his pocket:
c already there, no one home.

What was going on?

What did you think was going on?

I don’t know – I was worried, thinking about the way he was after that nightmare. I was wondering if there was something I’d missed, something I should have done. I suppose I just kept running over that day all weekend. And… other memories too. Then it was Monday and there was still no news.

Monday mornings were never José’s strong suit. This was the Monday morning of Monday mornings. Work was loaded on him in the nine o’clock meeting, all the charity stuff, children with sallow faces looking out of grimy windows. Just what he needed to cheer him up.

At eleven he got an email from Anna entitled
Meeting Request
. It amused him that she still tried to make their emails look semi-professional.

Hey there still no word from s. Should we get together tonight? Shall I ask everyone? axxx

Like him, she had probably thought of little else since Friday night. He kept seeing Seth shooting up from his nightmare like a vampire from a coffin, hearing the echo of that terrible scream.

He typed back
Yes good idea, ask everyone xx

* * * * *

It was oppressively hot in Anna’s flat and the gentle odour of sweating flesh was seasoning the air. Anna kept saying “Hey, thanks for coming” as she answered the door, as if she was hosting a wake.
He was such a unique character, so full of life, we’ll all miss him terribly
. Anna seemed nervous. The only flat they ever met at was Seth’s. No one had ever questioned it.

Anna’s flat was trendy with an unlived-in feel. She’d bought it last year, predicting that house prices would boom. She was already vindicated on that front – but not on what she’d done to it. Cream sofa, blinding white walls and precarious black candlesticks. Absurdly large TV and non-functional kitchen. Not a single personal touch he could see. People perched nervously on the sofa or sat on the laminate floor while Anna weaved her way round with a wine bottle, looking perhaps the most out of place of all. The ‘minimalist’ look had a lot to answer for. José had tried to make suggestions to her, small changes that would transform the room, but she said she was never in so what did it matter? Chicken and egg, he said, and if she made her living space more welcoming she might want to spend more time there. But Anna had always stopped listening by then.

She coughed for silence. “Well, I guess we all know why we’re here. And I take it no one’s heard from Seth?”

No one had. Michael rearranged his position on the sofa abruptly. He could never sit still. “I was supposed to meet him on Wednesday. He didn’t show up.”

“Where were you meeting him?”

“South Bank. An exhibition and a drink was the idea. No message, nothing.”

Anna frowned. “You should have said. He could have been missing for a few days then.”

“Or he could just be an inconsiderate arsehole.” His voice bit with venom.

Anna looked at José. “We thought we should meet to decide what to do. I for one am getting worried.”

Jake swilled the wine round his glass. “Isn’t it possible that he’s taken off for a few days and didn’t bother to tell anyone?”

“I guess. But it seems out of character. And what if something’s happened to him?”

“We’d have heard.”

“Would we?” Anna raised her eyebrows. “Why would anyone have contacted us? We’re not his family.”

José frowned. “Actually, do we even know if he’s in touch with any of his family?” Everyone looked at Charles. There were glimmers of sweat on his forehead and he was pale despite the temperature.

“I don’t think so. I never heard him mention anyone. The only person he ever talked about was his old nanny. Lucilla.”

“Surname?”

Charles shook his head. “I got the feeling she brought him up to a large extent. I think his parents were away a lot. Anna, could you open the window?”

Next to him Catherine stirred as though she was going to say something but was still again. Anna wrestled with the window as Charles stroked his beard.

“And – well, he’s done this before.”

“How do you open this bloody thing? What?” Anna froze at the window as she took in his words. Charles shrunk back as if under attack.

“I didn’t know whether to say anything at first. Didn’t want to be… disloyal.”

Jake forced the window up as Anna sat down. “So he’s disappeared before? How long for? What happened?”

“At university. In the second year. He went AWOL shortly before exams. Came back a week later in time for his first paper. Got a first, of course.”

José struggled through the jargon. “And when he came back – did he say anything?”

Charles opened his hands. “No – he was on blistering form, you know how he gets. Just said he’d needed some time out. He sailed through the exams and then I hardly saw him in May Week – he was drunk most of the time.”

There was a short pause.

“Seth gets black moods, doesn’t he?”

The quiet question from Rebecca pierced the room. Charles was still for a second before meeting her gaze.

“He’s never really talked about it to me.” He seemed reluctant to say more.

“And did he ever disappear again? What about after university?”

“Not to my knowledge. We – um – lost touch for a while.” He coughed.

Anna frowned. “How long for?”

“Oh – seven years or so. Seth saw an article about me in an architecture magazine and got back in touch.”

Seven years?
There was another pause as they took in this unexpected information. José was full of questions but this was not the time. They had to stay focussed. Anna looked round.

“So what do we do now?”

The room was silent.

Scene 2

When Seth had been missing for two days, Charles went to their tutor. Seth would hate that but he didn’t know what else to do. With other people you’d ring their parents. In this case he felt like the parent.

“So you have no idea where he could have gone?” Dr Hodgkins looked over his glasses, as every academic must.

“None whatsoever.”

“Is it possible he’s just staying somewhere else to concentrate on revision?”

Hardly. “Um – I suppose it’s possible.”

The tutor scribbled something in his notebook with a gold fountain pen. “I’ll speak to his Director of Studies, find out if he’s been turning up to tutorials. Of course I’ll let you know if I hear anything. It’s Charles, isn’t it? I’d advise you not to worry. Tell him to come and see me when he gets back.”

Charles rose from the chair more weighted with worry than when he’d gone in.

By day six he was falling behind with his work, unable to plan essays about The Visionary Artistry of Christopher Wren when he kept seeing his friend drunk in a gutter somewhere. That night when he’d picked him up from Ely – that phone conversation – Seth had sounded terrified. Was he in trouble? God, he sounded like his own parents. There was just so much he didn’t know about him. And despite Seth’s swagger, Charles had an instinct to walk beside him, protect him. He hardly fitted the mould of poor little orphan boy but he had still lost his parents.

The odd couple.
That’s what they were, really, he and Seth. He was Seth’s foil, the straight guy, the gravity pulling him back after each adventure, each mishap. And from his side… he lived some of the adventure vicariously, had his blinkers ripped off and saw how different life could be. What people didn’t always see was that Seth could be a wonderful friend, supportive – when he chose to be – and one of the most generous people he’d ever met, always the one to put his card down at the bar and just last week he’d surprised Charles by buying him a scarf. A rather nice one. That was it, he’d surprise you, keep you on your toes. But this surprise disappearance was starting to feel like one guessing game too far.

Charles meandered slowly from the library along the Backs, his heartbeat and footstep speeding up just a little when he saw the ivory stone of John’s. There was always the chance, however small, that Seth was sitting in the armchair having a cigarette and afternoon whisky. Hope made his feet quicken up the wooden stairs to their suite. The door was ajar and he heard a loud voice and a gentle, familiar-sounding female laugh. Two beaming faces turned to him as he entered: Seth’s and Sarah’s. His sister. He stopped on the threshold, speechless.

“Charlie boy, it’s good to see you. I’ve just been making a delightful new acquaintance.”

“Hello, Chas.” Sarah came over and kissed him on the cheek. “I was just passing and thought I’d see if you were in.”

“Right. Gosh.” He had no idea whom to address first.

“I just offered your sister a whisky but she’s going for the traditional tea option. You couldn’t knock the kettle on, could you?”

“Yes, sure. Sorry, Sarah, do sit down.” He moved stupidly towards the kettle.

“Are you okay? You don’t mind me popping round, do you?”

“Of course not. Sorry – I haven’t seen Seth for a few days and I’m just surprised, that’s all.”

Seth poured a measure of whisky into a glass. “Yes, sorry about that, old chap. I had some business to take care of in London.”

“Oh, I love London, don’t you?”

Charles busied himself with the tea as Seth and Sarah chatted like old friends.

So what had Mr Gardner been doing in London?

Um, I never found out. He was evasive at the time, and then, well, something else started to bother me.

Oh?

It’s nothing, really.

Just that Sarah started popping round more and more. And never seemed to stay unless Seth was there. She was giggly around him, the way all girls seemed to be, and even accepted the odd glass of whisky. Sarah didn’t drink: too many calories. Seth in turn talked about his ‘charming’ sister, which sent Charles’ heckles rising.

You didn’t like them becoming closer?

Seth was a good friend but when it came to ladies he had a certain… reputation. The Wolf in Chic Clothing was one nickname, if I recall. I didn’t want Sarah to get drawn in. So I spoke to Seth.

He tried not to betray Sarah’s confidence but it was impossible to avoid telling Seth something about her history. Seth made the whole thing as uncomfortable as possible, teasing him about Sir Lancelot defending his lady against the villainous Black Knight. But he did seem to tone down the flirtation after that, even making excuses to leave when Sarah popped round. As Sarah stared after him, Charles let little things slip about Seth’s womanising. He never quite knew what happened, except that Sarah got thin and grey again and stopped coming round. She often lost weight around exam time and Charles put it down to that. But he did wonder. Years later, when Seth got back in touch with him in London, Sarah made it clear that she didn’t want to be around when Seth was there. It made things difficult.