Untouchable Things Page 26

  Catherine starts rinsing glasses and Charles goes to collect more empties. Rebecca knows she should help, dry them up, but, let’s face it, she’s always happy to let someone else do this sort of thing. She feels vaguely guilty watching Catherine’s busy shoulders. So it wasn’t just to please Seth.

  Jake has fetched his coat. He looks at them all for a second and cocks his head with a small smile. “Lighten up m’lovelies. We know Seth has disappeared before so he’ll probably pop back up pretty soon. We can let the police know – even though I can tell you they won’t be interested. Other than that, I don’t mean to sound hard, but we should all probably get on with our lives.”

  Anna shakes her head. “No. There’s something not right here. I can’t just forget about Seth when he might be in trouble.” She bangs down her drink. “I think we should search the flat.” She eyeballs them. “It might give us an idea what the hell’s going on. We don’t even know if any clothes have gone. We don’t know if he planned to go away, or did it on impulse, or – if something has happened to him.”

  Rebecca frowns. “Shouldn’t we let the police do that? Won’t they be annoyed?”

  Michael half laughs. “Jake’s right, they won’t take it seriously. I’d be amazed if they came anywhere near this place yet.”

  Silence. Charles strokes his beard. “I don’t know. I don’t like the idea of going through his things.” Murmurs of agreement but Anna bats them away. “I don’t like the idea either but there’s no choice.”

  Jake lights a cigarette. “What do other people think?” He swivels to his left, blowing smoke towards the sink. “Do you think we should search the flat, Catherine?”

  Her shoulders tense in a haze of smoke and she puts down the cloth for a second. “I – well, I probably agree with Anna. Although it would feel awful.” She doesn’t turn round and her words are hard to catch.

  Anna slaps her thighs. “Right – it’s settled then.” No one contradicts her. “When? It’s a bit late now, how about tomorrow?”

  The next meeting is fixed and no one stays for another drink.

  Scene 6

  It was years ago. I told you, we got past it.

  Things looked as bright as the June sky as Charles whistled his way through town, stopping at the off-licence to pick up a bottle of bubbly. Finals were over (and they hadn’t been terrible – a 2:1, with any luck), the May Ball was tomorrow and for once he had a girlfriend to take. Bridget had started out as a friend and they’d got closer throughout the year as she opened up to him about school bullying and low self-esteem. She was shy in company and he liked that, liked being the one she could talk to. His sister had remarked – rather acidly, he thought – that Bridget was a clone of Amelia, who had dumped him for some Trinity lawyer last year. He had spent a lot of time listening to Amelia’s problems and trying to be a caring boyfriend, only to be told that he was a ‘lovely guy but’. In hindsight he should have seen that Amelia was bored; even at the time he suspected part of the reason she came round was to chat to Seth. Bridget didn’t seem to like Seth; she shrank in his presence and looked uncomfortable. He could understand why. Seth was an acquired taste. Anyway, none of that mattered now – Cambridge was finishing and a whole new life awaited him. One where he would be solvent and independent and no longer a ‘lovely guy but’.

  On impulse he stopped off at the dry cleaner’s to collect his DJ; might as well save himself the queues tomorrow. There was still time to loop back to John’s and drop it off. He was spending the afternoon at a rugby club garden party at Magdalene – not entirely his scene but Bridget had something to go to and you couldn’t miss out on a garden party on a day like this.

  Being laden down didn’t stop him bounding up the stairs two at a time, energy sizzling from the soles of his feet. He imagined how Bridget would look tomorrow. She’d told him the dress was red so he could match his cummerbund. He pictured something floor length, maybe low at the back, with her fox-brown hair swept into a bun.

  She was wearing red when he pushed back the door. A red camisole he’d never seen before that pushed her breasts into large, unrecognisable mounds. Below that a black suspender belt holding up fishnet stockings that tapered into crimson high heels. Her hair tumbled over her face as she looked down at the floor. Where Seth was lying, blazer-clad, between her legs.

  He couldn’t react because he couldn’t comprehend it. So he stood clutching his dinner suit and his bottle of wine while Bridget whimpered and covered herself and Seth got to his feet. The two friends looked at each other, Seth moistening his mouth, trying out words.

  “Not a great garden party then?”

  He went for him then. He’d never attacked anyone before but his body knew what to do as he slammed Seth against the wall. Bridget may have been screaming as she tried to drag him off. He shook free of both of them and upended the coffee table, sending mugs and glasses pealing to the floor. The click of doors opening across the stairwell.

  “I’m so sorry…”

  “Get out.”

  He heard Bridget leave the room, clip downstairs in her ludicrous shoes.

  “And you.” He couldn’t look at Seth in case he lost control again.

  “Of course.” It was as if he’d just asked him to pass the salt. Charles dug his nails into his palms. “I’ll come back later and we can sort…”

  “I’ll give you half an hour to get your stuff out.”

  He heard Seth stop in his tracks. “What? You can’t throw me out. Come on, Charlie boy, she threw herself at me, what’s a man to do? Tell you what, I’ll crash somewhere tonight…”

  “I mean it.” Charles pivoted round to face him with flint eyes. “If I see you here again, I’ll kill you.”

  You threatened to kill Mr Gardner?

  Well, I may well have said that in the heat of the moment but obviously I didn’t really mean it. I just wanted to get him out. For all his… idiosyncrasies, Seth’s my friend.

  Scene 7

  I’m sure you appreciate the importance of detail here, Mr Sanchez. We’ve received differing accounts of this evening and we need you to make sure you remember as accurately as possible.

  I’ll try.

  It feels as though they are in competition as they comb through the flat, on a treasure hunt, trying to be the first to spot the clues. It feels as if they are watching each other without showing it. Or maybe it’s just him. Ever since he told them about Seth’s nightmare he seems to feel eyes on the back of his head.

  He’s barely eaten all day and he feels shaky. Shaky on the inside, like his heart, his lungs, his blood vessels are all trembling. What are they doing here, rooting through Seth’s flat? Each time Anna avoids his eye the shaking gets worse. She thinks he’s been keeping things from her, can’t bear to feel excluded. He can’t bear the separation from her.

  He wants to be the one to find something. He owes Seth that much. Just for once he would like to be the hero, to see the gratitude in Seth’s eyes and the admiration in Anna’s.

  At the same time he’s scared of what he might find. Shake shake shake.

  We divided up the flat.

  Anna is looking through a wardrobe where shirts and jackets are lined up and all the coat hangers face the same way. Michael is going through drawers, finding tidy folded piles of black Paul Smith boxer shorts. José focuses on the other wardrobe trying to remember any jumpers or casual shirts that aren’t here. There isn’t much talking. Anna directs all her observations towards Michael, who tries to include José in his response. It reminds him of fallings-out at school.

  They have left Charles and Catherine searching the study while Rebecca checks the drawing room. Jake is supposed to be doing the kitchen but the smell of toast suggests he’s found something else to occupy him.

  Animated talking from the study prompts them to stop what they are doing, listen. Anna abandons ship first. José and Michael look at each other for a second and then follow. Rebecca enters from the drawing room. Catherine is in the study shaki
ng her head.

  “I’m positive it was here.”

  Anna looks at Michael. “The laptop isn’t here. Catherine thinks it was here the other day.”

  People make token search efforts, wandering aimlessly round the room looking behind curtains as if it’s a game of hide and seek.

  “No, it was right here on the desk – I’m sure. He always keeps it here.”

  They look at the desk, empty apart from a small, tidy pile of papers on the back right corner.

  Michael frowns. “Are you sure, Catherine? I mean, we didn’t go into the study the other day, did we?”

  She bites her lip. “No, but the door was open and I’m sure I saw the laptop on the way back from the bathroom.”

  “Maybe you’re getting it mixed up with another time.”

  She opens and closes her mouth like a fish.

  “Well, if it has been moved it was either Seth – or you, of course. No one else has keys.” Only Anna would put it quite so bluntly.

  Catherine scowls. “Well, it wasn’t me. Why would I draw attention to it then?”

  In the silence they listen to plates clattering in the kitchen. Jake sticks his head round the door.

  “Anyone fancy a Scooby snack? You wouldn’t believe what I found in Seth’s freezer.” He looks at their faces. “Right. I take it no one’s hungry, then.”

  “Catherine thinks Seth’s laptop’s been taken. Since we were last here.”

  “Well, he’s probably taken it with him, wherever he’s gone.”

  Catherine slaps her hand down on the desk. “No, I’m sure it was here last week.”

  Jake narrows his eyes. “Sat down and did some work on it, did you? No?”

  José looks from one to the other. Anna has always thought Catherine and Jake can’t stand each other.

  “Is it possible you’re mixing it up with another time?” Charles turns to Catherine, who now has tears in her eyes.

  “I suppose so. I just think there’s more to it. Maybe we should tell the police.”

  “For God’s sake.” Jake glares at Catherine and José feels sorry for her. “Think about it. They’d just conclude that Seth has popped back home and strike him off their to-do list.”

  Light dawns on Anna’s face. “Jake’s right. They were already completely disinterested when I spoke to them yesterday. We don’t want to make things worse.”

  Charles coughs, hand in pockets. “Uninterested.”

  “What?”

  “One of Seth’s little hobby horses. He was always putting people right on it.”

  There’s a short silence. “Let’s carry on for now, see what we find.” For all of Michael’s abruptness José can tell he’s worried. People murmur agreement, get to their feet.

  “Oh, there’s one other thing I thought.” Jake is leaning on the doorframe, feet crossed.

  “Shouldn’t we all have keys to the flat? It doesn’t seem right that just one person has them. And if we all pop in and out we can keep an eye on things.” Catherine shrinks under his gaze and says she’ll get them cut tomorrow. There’s some sort of agenda between those two that he doesn’t understand.

  “Right, back to work. Don’t know about anyone else but I’m finding all sorts of exciting things. Come into the kitchen if you get peckish.” Jake winks as he leaves the room. José feels an odd shiver run over his shoulders. Jake’s probably trying to lighten things up but still it feels weird that he’s just helping himself to what he wants and making a joke out of everything. Normally he’d say something to Anna. His eyes swivel over to her, but if she senses them she doesn’t respond.

  Back in the bedroom he finds a big box of green folders tucked away at the back of the wardrobe. As he looks at it, hesitating, Anna comes over and grabs the top folder. He and Michael watch her for a minute, furiously flicking through handwritten sheets of paper. If this was his moment, Anna’s whipped it away from under his nose.

  “Academic notes of some sort – poetry, I think.”

  She rifles through the other folders, all arms and intent, an industrious spider. He, the stunned insect, waits for her verdict. “They all seem to be on the same topic – metaphysical poetry or something. Isn’t all poetry metaphysical?”

  He shrugs and they call in Charles and Rebecca. Anna has found what looks like a draft thesis, typed up in a seriously dated font with scribbles all over it.

  “Presumably he did a PhD?”

  Charles looks flustered for the first time. “I don’t actually know. We lost touch straight after undergrad, remember. He was always a bit vague about those years.”

  She holds the document closer. “Look, there’s a tutor’s name here – Dr R Cuddly. Cuddly – is that for real?”

  They peep over her shoulder. Anna picks up her notebook and writes Dr R Cuddly.

  “Seth never called himself Doctor, did he?”

  They flick through some more papers and Michael points.

  “Look at that. It says Seth Basildon, not Gardner.”

  “What?”

  “Yes, he did change his name.” They all stare at Charles. “When we got back in touch he said he’d decided to take his mother’s name. I’d forgotten all about it until now.”

  Anna writes Seth Basildon and underlines it.

  What strikes them is how little personal stuff there is in the flat. No photos from childhood, adolescent scribblings, nothing to mark his parents’ existence at all. Michael finds a folder of ideas about Hamlet, which Rebecca says she’d like to read some time. She goes round and round the flat looking under furniture, behind plant pots. José sees her slipping a book into her bag.

  “What’s that?”

  She pulls it out, pink under her freckles.

  “Just some of the metaphysical poets. I thought it might be interesting to reread them if Seth took such an interest in them.” There’s a brief silence and Rebecca puts the book back in her bag.

  “He said he’d lend it to me anyway.” Her voice falters slightly. José looks away.

  Later he finds Anna in the bedroom, still digging her way through the box of green folders. Most of the others are there, sitting on the floor watching her, not sure what to do next. Jake has gone home with a final shake of his head.

  Anna sits up a bit straighter.

  “What is it?”

  She flips over a piece of paper in her hand. “I don’t… know.” Her words crawl out. “What do you think?”

  José leans in with everyone else. The page is titled The Saturday Group in Seth’s loopy handwriting. Underneath, a subtitle: Betrayal. Below that a list of names.

  A jolt. “Tell me I’m wrong, but this looks a whole lot like another Friday Folly to me.” It makes him feel weird.

  “Hey, so he set up a group like this before. Big deal.” He knows Anna’s feeling weird about it too.

  “Look – one name’s asterisked.”

  Michael straightens up. “Yes, and flip over to see why.”

  Overleaf, the twin asterisk and a scribble: wind her up and watch her go!

  José stares. “Poor old Bridget Larson.”

  “What?” Charles’ hand shoots out and takes the paper. His face changes colour twice.

  “What is it?”

  Charles backs away, letting the paper zigzag down to the floor. He holds the wardrobe handle as if for support.

  “Charles? Do you know her?”

  He is staring at the paper on the floor. “I did. Once. Just getting a glass of water.”

  They frown and shrug at each other as the tap in the kitchen splutters on. José mouths that he will go. He finds Charles leaning over the sink staring out of the window.

  “Are you okay, mate?” He’s never sure when the use of ‘mate’ is appropriate. Charles smiles sort of sadly at him; he’s got it wrong.

  “I’m fine. Just needed a breather.”

  José doesn’t know which words to throw into the silence. Charles has turned back to the window.

  “Look, m – Charles, I don’t wa
nt to hassle you but – well, if you go back into that room you’ll get the third degree. If it would be easier to tell one person, we could go sit on the sofa.”

  “Or I could always go home and not tell anyone.” There’s an unfamiliar spike in Charles’ voice. “Or is that not an option?”

  “Of course it’s an option. I just think that – if there’s anything at all that might help us understand things better it would be good to know.”

  It is painful watching Charles tell his account of Seth’s betrayal. To José’s annoyance, Anna appears in the doorway to listen and the others follow behind her. Charles doesn’t look at them but neither does he stop talking; he addresses the rubber plant in the corner. His voice is monotone but his hands jerk and twitch. He says they were young, that Seth was sorry, that it was one of those things. Looking at his hunched figure, José has no doubt that it is one of the worst things that has ever happened to him.

  When he finishes talking, José reaches out and squeezes his arm, ignoring the ridiculous chorus in the corner, which has sat down in a huddle, trying to be unobtrusive. He wants to wave them away like an irritated stage director. But they get up and begin to disperse and he loses his chance to give Charles some quiet support.

  “Well, I can’t say I’m surprised.” Michael’s hands are jammed into his pockets, his mouth a narrow slit.

  “It’s amazing that you forgave him.” Rebecca’s voice is warm. Catherine nods and looks shell-shocked.

  Anna cuts through, briskly. “So he clearly stayed in contact with this woman – Bridget.”