Untouchable Things Read online

  * * * * *

  Two hours later he’s holding his hand over his glass as Anna tops up the other two. She’s come round a bit. She even apologised for being off the previous week, said it was all messing with her head.

  José leans back and grins at his friends across the table. “At least we’re not in his bloody flat now.”

  “Yeah, it’s starting to get a bit weird, isn’t it? Maybe we should stop meeting there.”

  “I don’t know, I find it vaguely comforting.”

  “Like people sniffing their dead husband’s jumpers?”

  “I suppose so. And he does have a good wine collection.”

  It’s slightly feeble, but they’re bantering again, doing a good impression of three friends having a normal night out. If the three of them can stick together maybe it will be okay.

  José nods at the red, white and blue bunting fluttering over the bar. “And I thought London was up itself before. Now it’s Cool Britannia this, Cool Britannia that. If I hear that phrase one more time I’m on the next plane back to Madrid.”

  Anna grins and takes another slug of wine. “At least we can choose where we want to go now. Seth was such a control freak. Always had to be on his terms.”

  None of them have ever spoken about him like this. They are saying the unsayable.

  José spears an olive. “And let’s face it, it was pretty bloody unhealthy, that group.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Well, him in control, the rest of us competing for his attention. He must have loved it.”

  The words surprise him, acidic like the house wine he’s had too much of. He’s admitted to something he didn’t know he felt, put a card on the table. For a second’s silence he wants to take it back. Then Rebecca nods.

  “You’re right, José. And I guess we’re to blame too. But it’s… hard to resist him.”

  “I’ve never met anyone with so much presence, charm – I don’t know what to call it.”

  “Charisma.” They lock eyes then Rebecca looks down and swirls her drink. “It’s a dangerous thing.”

  “But you’re setting him up as a manipulator and I don’t think that’s right.” Anna’s voice rises ominously in pitch. “Just because he isn’t here we shouldn’t forget all the great things about him. I’ve never met anyone so energising. And generous. Not just with his money, with himself.”

  “No one’s saying he’s a monster, Anna. And of course he’s generous, great company, witty…” He stops, confused for a second, feeling around for more adjectives to pin Seth down.

  “Like you told me, a one-off.” Rebecca smiles, breaking the tension.

  “I’ll drink to that.” They clunk glasses, sip a silent toast.

  “Three weeks PD today, you know. And Friday the 13th on top of that. Lucky for some. Maybe he’s back home as we speak.”

  They smile sadly at each other, eyes heavy again.

  After a minute Anna sighs. “I know he’s a bit of an enigma, and you’re probably right that the whole group is dysfunctional and revolves around him.” She looks around the table and sighs again. “But it doesn’t change the fact that it’s no bloody fun without him.”

  Scene 12

  [Enter all characters bar Seth, whose Fedora hat is spotlighted centre stage. Characters walk round and round the hat.]

  ANNA:

  Where is he?

  MICHAEL:

  Where is he?

  REBECCA:

  Where i……………s he?

  JOSÉ:

  Who said anything about opera?

  REBECCA:

  Well, it’s so dramatic I just burst into song. [shakes head] I’m wasted here, should have been on Broadway.

  JAKE:

  You’re a doll, Becs, but no opera, aw-ight?

  CATHERINE:

  Would you please take that gum out of your mouth?

  ANNA:

  Am I allowed to agree with Jake, just this once?

  CHARLES:

  Come on, chaps. No opera, okay? We need to stay focussed… look for clues or something.

  JAKE:

  Uh-oh. Here they come.

  [characters peer out and sigh]

  ANNA:

  More feckin’ questions.

  REBECCA:

  Still in those sensible shoes.

  JAKE:

  Like they’re ever gonna work out what’s going on!

  ALL THE OTHERS:

  What makes you say that?

  JAKE:

  Trust me, they’re no match for Seth.

  Scene 13

  This takes us up to last week. Could you talk me through what happened next, Miss Laurence?

  The sun was streaming into Rebecca’s eyes when she woke. Bloody curtains didn’t meet in the middle. She caught sight of 6.48 on the bedside clock, groaned and buried her face in the pillows, knowing the game was already up. For a second the heat on her hair felt luxurious, as if she were lying on an exotic beach, sun shimmering above. Then she remembered Seth and the pleasure trickled out of her. It was like having something horrible hovering over your head all the time. Maybe he’d sent his black bird to keep watch over her while he was gone.

  She sighed again and sat up in bed. The patch of sky between her thin beige curtains was dense cobalt. She could even pick out birdsong. The prospect of another glorious day had the equal and opposite effect on her, made her want to cry. Nothing seemed to mean that much now that he wasn’t here, now that there was a huge bloody big question mark carved into her soul.

  Always the drama queen. But the not knowing had infected her like cancer, taking her over cell by cell. It seeped out into conversations with the man reading the gas meter. It tightened her chest when she bought a Tube ticket, imbued her favourite American sitcoms with a bittersweet edge their creators could only have dreamed of. Every time she saw something glinting on the pavement she thought it was the lost brooch, made a grab for a chocolate wrapper or abandoned penny in the gutter. She lost her appetite halfway through a meal, staring suddenly at a tuna baguette as if someone else had put it into her hand. But the weight loss didn’t even make her particularly happy, since there was no one to appreciate it. He tumbled round and round her thoughts on a rapid spin cycle until, at times, when she’d had too much coffee and solitude, she visualised her head starting to splinter like an egg hatching.

  On those occasions, too many of them recently, she did the only thing she could think of to block it all out. The only thing that brought her a bit closer to him. Sometimes she imagined that he was there in the room, watching her, and on those occasions she took it slowly, revelling in the sensory distraction, playing to an audience. But more often the despair that powered her right hand made her hurt herself, using the handle of her hairbrush like a weapon, a scarf tied tight round her eyes, trying to bring him back. She’d given herself two urine infections and the doctor had lectured her on tampon hygiene. Afterwards it was always the same shame and loneliness but the next day she’d be doing it again.

  She needed to find him. She had to know what had happened, where he was, she needed to talk to him and feel the warmth of his eyes on her face. Fuck it, she needed to kiss him, to hold him, to drown in the tide that had swept them towards each other. She needed to say sorry and you bastard and I love you and don’t ever leave me again and why?

  Why?

  The trembling started between her legs and she reached for the hairbrush she now kept by her bed. Her hand locked around the ridged handle and paused. She could go to the kitchen instead and start her coffee-making ritual but nothing would change, no one would observe her plight and come to save her or give her the information she had to have. She was alone and it was terrifying.

  On top of all that she had money worries. She’d tipped over her overdraft limit and needed to phone her parents to get her through until next week when No Exit rehearsals started. Of course they’d help her but they’d be worried, and she’d have to pretend.

  She pulled the ha
irbrush under the covers. There was only one fantasy anymore and it wasn’t a fantasy, it had really happened. It was the only thing that still connected her to him.

  The phone started to ring and her eyes blinked open. For a second she listened. Then she ran for it. No one rang her at this time.

  Scene 14

  “Hey Becs, sorry to phone you so early.”

  “Oh – hi, Anna.” Rebecca’s voice is hollow.

  “Look, I’ve been lying in bed thinking about what we can do next to find Seth. And I think I’ve had an idea.”

  “Right.” There’s something like a sigh at the other end.

  “I know what Jake said – about not snooping around – but I think we need to fill in as many gaps as possible. Look – can I come over and talk to you?”

  Fifteen minutes later, Rebecca opens the door looking as jaded as her old green dressing gown. They talk over black treacly coffee that makes Anna grimace.

  “So, are you up for it?”

  “Today?”

  “Yes. I’ve checked with his secretary that he’s around. He thinks he’s getting a visit from a couple of mature students.”

  Rebecca blinks. “So you’ve already set it up?”

  “Yes. I’m going anyway. But I’d really like it if you came too.”

  A second’s pause. “Okay, let’s do it.”

  Anna grins. “Excellent. Get in the shower and I’ll make us some breakfast. Where’s your bread?”

  The place needed a damn good clean. It would drive her mad to be surrounded by so much clutter. She finds margarine, low fat, of course, in the fridge and little else, only a tub of cream cheese that instinct tells her not to open. Rebecca appears in a black T-shirt with something in-your-face printed on it.

  “There’s cream cheese if you want it. Here – oh shit. That stuff goes off so fast. Sorry.”

  She opens the bin lid and shoves the container down on a pile of rubbish. Anna wrinkles her nose at the smell of fish as Rebecca grins an apology. “Shaz’s turn to do the bins.”

  “No worries – I’ll bring your toast to your room, shall I?”

  Rebecca turns. “Sorry?”

  “Well, you can’t go like that – we won’t stand a chance. Let’s have a look through your wardrobe.”

  * * * * *

  After a small scene Rebecca left the house in hip-hugging white jeans and stripy blue cropped top, finished off with a dusting of blusher and various things from black tubes that brought her eyes to life. Although she moaned about Anna’s tactics, Anna could see she was amused and flattered too. Exactly what she’d banked on. Assuming Dr Cuddly was of heterosexual persuasion – and hopefully, being married, he was – she felt confident their double act could win him round. She glanced over at her passenger, currently resembling a mad Medusa in the head wind. There was something a bit fragile about her today. She needed to pull herself together for all of them.

  “Hey – you okay? Do you want me to put the roof on?”

  Rebecca shook her head and tried again to twist her hair into her top. She shouted something back that included the word ‘banshee’ and they both grinned and resumed their reveries. It was amazing how often the car had saved her from unwanted small talk.

  “If necessary, you could always cry.” Anna spoke casually while she fiddled around with the roof in the car park.

  “Cry?”

  Anna took a breath, trying to stay patient. “Well, if he won’t tell us anything. Say you’re desperate, you’ll do anything, that kind of stuff. You know better than me.” She caught sight of Rebecca’s indignant face. “Come on, you’re an actress.”

  “Actor.”

  “Eh?”

  Rebecca sighed. “Doesn’t matter. Look, I’ll do my best but I’m not promising anything.” Anna had to bite her lip and be satisfied with that.

  They emerged from a urine-streaked stairway into sunlight, cobbles and throngs of people.

  “Blimey.”

  “Ever been here before?”

  “Never. I visited Oxford once, when I was a teenager. Full of strange vampire-like creatures in black gowns. Some of my friends were Goths so I felt quite at home. Except for the strange hats.”

  Anna chuckled. “My brothers still go on about my gotholescent days. I’m sure I only lasted one bad hair dye but they make it sound like years. Ma’s tears and Da’s lectures were enough for anyone.”

  A silence settled after the mention of her mother. Then the King’s College skyline reared up to their left.

  “Wow.”

  “It’s like a cathedral. Imagine going to university here.”

  They gazed for a moment at the blanched, parapetted silhouette gleaming on its azure canvass.

  “Which one is this?”

  Anna consulted her map. “King’s, I think. As in cute choirboy sings ‘Once in Royal David’s City’.”

  “My mum’s favourite.” Rebecca blushed, as if she’d made a faux-pas. Anna kept talking to show she was okay.

  “This is John’s now, where Seth went. See that bridge? Remind you of anything?”

  Rebecca looked up. “Um… no, not really.”

  “It’s a copy of the Bridge of Sighs in Venice. Look, we’re being watched.” Tourists stared down to the street through huge camera lenses.

  “And this is where Seth hung out. Makes sense, doesn’t it?”

  They laughed. By the time they passed the porter, slagged off the tourists and circumnavigated three imposing courtyards, it had started to feel like a regular day trip. It was amazing how much better she felt just to be doing something.

  Dr Cuddly was anything but. Anna realised her mental picture of some sort of academic-looking Father Christmas had been entirely based around his name. Faced with a beanpole with eyebrows she felt a little thrown. Maybe he kept himself chronically short of food so he could shatter people’s preconceptions and gain immediate advantage.

  He didn’t come across as particularly cuddly by nature either, though the way his eyes were pinging back and forth between the table and Rebecca’s midriff was promising.

  “I’ll cut straight to the chase, we’re here to talk about one of our friends who’s disappeared. He was one of your students and we’re hoping you might be able to shed some light on it.”

  Dr Cuddly’s eyes glittered. “I see. So your post-graduate interest in George Herbert…”

  Anna tilted her head. “Let’s call it… poetic license.”

  She returned his gaze until he relaxed into a smile. “Very good. So how can I help you, ladies?” His gaze took in Rebecca again. “I don’t have long.”

  Anna sat up straighter. “Do you remember a PhD student called Seth Basildon?”

  Dr Cuddly leaned back. “Ah, Mr Basildon, who could forget him?”

  “He’s been missing for about a month. We’re talking to as many people as possible who know him.”

  “Knew him, Miss…”

  “Carmel. And this is Rebecca Laurence.”

  The tip of a smile brushed his lips as he acknowledged Rebecca.

  “As I said, I knew Seth Basildon but haven’t heard from him in – sorry, one loses track of time in this job – well, I would have thought it was ten years. I’m not really sure how I can help you.”

  Anna crossed her legs. “We’ve found a lot of paperwork from his time at Cambridge. I believe he got into some sort of trouble, during his PhD? We’re wondering if that might give us some clues as to his whereabouts.”

  Dr Cuddly folded his arms. “Lots of people get into trouble during their student years, Miss Carmel, and I doubt they want those ‘clues’ splashing about amongst their current friends.”

  His voice was vacuum-sealed. Anna told herself to stay calm.

  “Dr Cuddly.” Rebecca leaned forward urgently, surprising both of the others. “We are not here to snoop. We just want any information that could help us understand. Seth is a very dear friend and we’re extremely worried about him. Please help us.” A tremor rippled her voice. “We’
re just desperate.”

  The scoop neck of Rebecca’s top pulled slightly as she leaned further. The professor seemed unsure where to look. Anna watched Rebecca in wonder. It was like a masterclass in how to get round a man. Dr Cuddly sighed.

  “Well, if it helps I can tell you what I remember, which is not much.”

  “Thank you.” They spoke in chorus, earnestly.

  “Mr – Basildon owned a house which it seems was a bit of a meeting place for arty types. It had something of a reputation, if you know what I mean.” Anna nodded to urge him on.

  “At some point – maybe a couple of years in – one of the group had some sort of breakdown and recounted some rather disturbing stories to her parents, who tipped the police off. They raided it and found Class A drugs. In rather large quantities, by all accounts.”

  Anna’s hands stuck to her trouser legs as she tried to move them. “So Seth was prosecuted?”

  The professor paused. “Not exactly.”

  Anna and Rebecca exchanged a glance. “What happened?”

  “Let’s just say that someone influential stepped in and got him off the hook. But he left Cambridge, didn’t complete. Damn shame actually – he had some fascinating, if undeveloped, ideas about George Herbert. Could have been an excellent thesis.” Nostalgia settled around Dr Cuddly. “There’ve been one or two regrettable dropouts in the last few years.”

  Rebecca coughed gently and flicked her hair off her face “Do you have any idea who helped him?”

  It took a second for the professor to turn a vague face towards her.

  “Who? Oh – young Basildon. Or should I say Rothbury.” He raised his eyebrows. “Well, his father, of course.”

  ACT 4 - Prologue

  The boy taps at the door, wanting his mother. The house is dark and there’s a noise that has woken him up. He thinks it’s a monster. He doesn’t want the monster to catch his mother. He’s not supposed to get out of bed in the night but he can’t go on listening to that groaning noise anymore. He pushes the door, expecting dishevelled hair and sharp words. But the covers are pushed back and the room is empty. Maybe the monster has already got his mother. He hears its noise again, a bit louder now. It’s coming from the Lilac Room. That’s the room he’s not allowed in, the room that is usually locked. He clenches his tummy to stop himself wetting his pants as he creeps past the room where Lucilla sometimes stays, to the other side of the house.