Mystical Paths (16 page)

‘No? But since your father’s such an eminent clergyman –’ I didn’t dare use the word ‘priest’ after this display of Protestant bigotry so superbly awful that it was almost endearing ‘– doesn’t that make life awkward sometimes?’

‘Oh, he doesn’t know I’m not religious. I always go to church if ever I visit him on a Sunday. Can’t have the old boy upset.’ ‘Ah.’

‘As a matter of fact I do believe in God sometimes but I never let it bother me.’

I felt it was safer not to comment on this remarkable philosophy. ‘Norman seems to have wound up an atheist,’ I remarked instead.

‘Yes, copying Christian as usual. Talking of Christian, I must say it was strange to go to Perry’s tonight. Hadn’t been there for ages. Perry’s drifted apart from my family since Christian died – which is why I was so surprised when Norman told me earlier that he’d formed the habit of dropping in at Albany for a drink ... Incidentally,’ said James, unable to muzzle his curiosity any longer, ‘how did you yourself wind up there tonight?’

‘I wanted to find out more about Christian.’

‘How extraordinary! Why?’ He swung the car at last into Knightsbridge.

‘I’m trying to help Katie sort herself out. She’s just been admitted to that place near Banbury where Cynthia is.’

Well, that’s no surprise, I suppose – she was obviously heading that way, but I can’t understand this current vogue for having nervous breakdowns. Grit your teeth, shut up and get on with it is my motto. Life’s hard, life’s tough. Amazing how many people think it ought to be all sunshine and roses.’

‘Has your life been so tough, James?’

Well, it certainly hasn’t been paradise. Paradise ended for me at nine when my mother died, and after that it was a case of "God helps those who help themselves" – if God existed, which began to seem increasingly unlikely ... Ah, we’re almost there. Start flexing your muscles for the next round of weightlifting.’

Norman and Cynthia lived in a mews south of the Fulham Road, but the house was double-fronted, much larger than the chic boxes one usually finds in a former stableyard. Nevertheless perhaps Cynthia, the duke’s daughter, felt that even a hulk in a smart mews was a come-down. The top storey, obviously a modern addition, had destroyed any symmetry the house had once possessed. The whole place had a bleak look. All the flowers were dying in the window-boxes.

‘Norman and Cynthia have two children, don’t they?’ I said suddenly as it dawned on me that the house was deserted. ‘What’s happened to the younger one?’

‘Jill and I took him over along with the French au pair when Cynthia was carted off to Banbury. Billy’s nurse had already left and the little Frog was making a fuss about being left alone with Norman.’

Bearing in mind Norman’s behaviour when he was drunk, I found my sympathy lay entirely with the French girl.

The moment James opened the front door with Norman’s key, a decaying smell assaulted our nostrils. The living-room resembled a refuse dump: layers of dirt garnished with old newspapers, empty bottles and soiled coffee-cups. In the kitchen the sink was stacked high with unwashed dishes. A peculiarly foul smell was emanating from the saucepan on the stove.

‘Disgusting!’ said James as we both flinched.

Having reconnoitred the territory we embarked on the ordeal of importing the corpse and James issued his last order of the evening. It was: ‘Into the drawing-room, Nick — no sense in giving ourselves hernias by lugging him upstairs.’ Norman was dumped on the sofa. The next task was obviously to terminate the stink so I retired to the kitchen, opened the window and made liberal use of a bottle of disinfectant which I found in one of the cupboards. It finally dawned on me that the mess in the saucepan had once been Lancashire hotpot.

‘This is damned good of you, Nick,’ said James, having concluded his quest to find pillows and blankets for his brother. ‘Trust a padre to turn up trumps in a crisis! Whisky?’

‘Thanks.’ By this time I felt that I would have welcomed even a tot of methylated spirits to fight the nausea generated by the hotpot.

James poured us both double-whiskies. ‘Soda?’

‘No, I’ll take water.’ Moving to the sink I managed to pour off half the whisky and fill the tumbler to the brim. Meanwhile James had sat down at the kitchen counter and was drinking his whisky neat. ‘What I can’t understand,’ he was saying, ‘is what’s got into Norman. Why’s he going to pieces in this really spectacular fashion?’

‘I suppose little Billy —’

‘Oh, all that’s been going on for years. Do you think that Cynthia could have gone round the bend as the result of a final marital bust-up? God, it would kill the old man if one of us got divorced!’

‘It would?’

‘Of course! He’s got to believe we’re all living happily ever after, but to be honest I wouldn’t be exactly dumbfounded if Norman wound up in the divorce court. Big mistake, marrying out of one’s class as he and Christian did. Christian developed social aspirations up at Oxford, that was the trouble, and then Norman felt he had to keep up with him. Very silly. Personally I’ve always ploughed my own furrow, chatted my own course.’ ‘Sounds a bit lonely.’

‘Oh, but I flourished best when I was on my own, away from my brothers! Thank God I never made it to Oxford! Well, I never even made it to Winchester. I went to St John’s, Leatherhead, the school for the sons of clergymen.’

‘Any good?’

‘Absolutely splendid, a marvellous place. I was happy as a lark as soon as I crossed the threshold and realised no one there had ever heard of Christian, Norman and Sandy, the Aysgarth trio of geniuses. Sandy never bothered me, actually, as he was so much younger, but my God, how tired I used to get of Christian and Norman!’

‘I can imagine.’

‘Couldn’t say so, of course. Didn’t want to upset Father. In Father’s eyes we’re all perfect – which means no fights, no rows, and everyone dedicated to getting on and travelling far. Quite right too. What’s the point of life unless you make a success of it? I certainly slaved to be a success in the army ... More whisky?’

‘No, thanks.’

‘Mind if I do?’

‘Not at all.’

James poured himself another double-whisky. ‘I admit it was tough losing a leg,’ he said, ‘but I gritted my teeth and battled on and now I’ve carved myself just the right niche in the MOD. Father admired me for that. "I’m very proud of you, James," he said. First real compliment he ever paid me! Never mind, it was worth waiting for.’

‘Who was his favourite?’

‘My sister Primrose. Oh, of the boys, you mean? Well, I think he always had a soft spot for me because I’m the only one who’s normal and not a bloody genius, but Christian was the one he was really bound up with ... Seems odd in retrospect.’

‘Why?’

‘They didn’t get on. Pretended they did, but ... Maybe the trouble was they were too like each other. It doesn’t always do, you know, for a father and son to be too alike.’

‘Is your father easy to get on with?’

‘Very. A wonderful father he is, never a cross word. Of course, being a clergyman, he comes over as soft and woolly on some issues – my God, how he embarrassed me when he supported the publication of
Lady Chatterley
’
s Lover! –
but I’ll say this for him: he’s never let God stand in his way when his career’s been at stake.’

‘Remarkable.’

‘I mean, look how he got to be Dean of Starbridge despite my stepmother! No one ever knew how he managed to pull that one off. That bloody Dido ... What did he ever see in her? Flat-chested, never stops talking and always winds upoffending everyone in sight! I find it hard to believe a woman like that could ever give a man an erection.’

‘Since Elizabeth and Pip exist it would seem safe to assume your father had an erection at least twice.’

‘And there were three dead babies! That means five times he got it up with her –
five times!
Incredible ... By Jove, this whisky tastes good! I feel a new man. Nothing like a couple of mild scotches to perk one up after a hard day.’

‘How did Christian and Dido get on?’

‘Loathed each other. Wait a minute, I’ve finally remembered you’re trying to find out more about Christian in order to help Katie. But why should Katie be helped by you becoming a walking encyclopaedia on her husband?’

‘Well –’

‘And why go to Perry? I wouldn’t have thought Perry the Poof was too reliable on the subject of Christian, but don’t worry, I can certainly tell you a thing or two ... Cigarette?’ ‘No, thanks. Okay, go ahead – what can you tell me?’ ‘He turned into a certifiable lunatic,’ said James.

SIX

‘We need ... to try to analyse where the evil lies, and what are the causes which make for it.’

MICHAEL RAMSEY Archbishop of Canterbury 1961-1974
Canterbury Essays and Addresses
I

‘
When people are too bloody clever they often wind up going mad,’ said James after lighting his cigarette. ‘Look at Nietzsche. My sister Primrose told me about Nietzsche once. Wound up falling in love with a horse. Nietzsche, I mean, not Primrose.’ Weird. About Christian —’

‘Ah yes. Mad as a hatter in the end. I saw that for myself shortly before he died — and it was unusual for Christian and me to get together, I might add, because we lived in such different worlds. Anyway, there I was in 1965, still out in Germany with the regiment, and lo and behold, Christian phones me out of the blue. He’s bucketing around Europe on holiday with Perry — which was a bloody odd thing to do since Katie was eight months pregnant — and it turns out he’s only a couple of miles from my base. "Come on, you old sod!" shouts Christian down the phone — pissed as a newt he was — "Let’s go out and have ourselves a ball!" Funny how he used Americanisms to try to sound young and trendy. Rather pathetic, I thought .. .

Well, I wasn’t too keen to accept the invitation because I had to be up early the next day, but I thought: dash it all, he
is
my brother. So off I toddled to meet him. But my God — the next thing I knew we were in one of those bloody awful German dives where you’re not sure what anyone’s sex is.’’Transvestite bar?’

‘More like a bloody freak-show. "What the hell are we doing here?" I demanded, but Christian just laughed so hard he nearly passed out. "Isn’t it wonderful?" he said. "Doesn’t it make you long to put your finger on the nuclear button and blow up the world?" "What’s so wonderful about feeling homicidal?" I said, beginning to ask myself if he was more than just drunk. (Only a madman ever jokes about nuclear war.) "It’s so wonderful to feel anything at all!" shouted Christian. "Welcome, revulsion! Welcome, sexual perversion! Now I know I’m alive!" Well, at that point Perry the Poof said nervously: "You’ll be lynched if you’re not careful — for God’s sake keep quiet about sexual perversion!" But Christian wasn’t listening to him. "I want you to get me a gun!" he bawled at me. "I want you to get me a Luger, like the one James Bond had! Then I want to walk into a supermarket and
shoot everyone in sight!"
"Ha-ha," I said, "funny joke," but at once he denied he was joking. "I want to shoot everyone in sight and then kill myself!" he screamed. "Get me a gun, you stiff-necked bastard, or I’ll tell your CO that you were here buggering bloody Krauts!"

‘I said good-humouredly: "You need a padded cell, not a gun!" But I tell you, Nick, I was rattled. It was because I felt that beneath all the drunken claptrap there was something serious going on. "That’s enough, Christian," said Perry the Poof. "We don’t want to shock James into a heart-attack, do we? Time for the rag to end." And he turned to me and said: "Sorry old chap, it was damn silly, I know, but Christian couldn’t resist bringing you here to see your eyes pop out of your head. He seems to find it amusing to tease you." Well, I never hesitated. I just said: "I hope he laughs all the way to the lunatic asylum," and then I walked out.’

After a moment’s silence I said: ‘That’s the most extraordinary story. Did either of them comment to you on the incident afterwards when they were sober?’

‘No, I didn’t see them again during that trip, and in fact that was the last time I ever saw Christian. But as soon as I could wangle some compassionate leave after he died I flew to Lon- don, went straight to Albany and said to Perry: "Did he succeed in getting that gun and shooting himself? And are you covering up the suicide by pretending he drowned in an accident?"‘

‘What did Perry say?’

‘Oh, swore blind he’d told nothing but the truth. Urged me to forget the incident in Germany — repeated that it was all a rag, Christian had been drunk out of his mind, hadn’t meant a word he said — etcetera, etcetera ... Funny about Christian and Perry. Lovers at school, of course, but then Christian called a halt to that later ... Have another whisky.’

‘No thanks.’

‘Mind if I do?’

‘Not at all. Do you know for a fact that they were lovers at school?’

‘No, but I’d guess that was the way it was. Christian wasn’t homosexual once he grew up but he still kept Perry around for sentimental reasons.’

‘Does that really add up, James? Wouldn’t Christian have been more likely to wash his hands of Perry once he’d outgrown him?’

‘Nothing about Christian adds up. I can’t really believe he wanted to kill himself. He was so successful — had everything a man could want —’’

‘How many people have you told about this incident?’

‘I’ve never told anyone. Didn’t want the story getting back to Katie or, God forbid, to Father. And I didn’t trust Norman not to tell Cynthia.’

‘What about Sandy or Primrose? Or your wife?’

‘I’m not close to Sandy; it’s that big age-gap. And Primrose and Jill are women. I couldn’t have talked to a woman about that transvestite bar. God only knows why I’m telling you, a mere acquaintance, but perhaps it’s because you’ve been such a brick about Norman tonight — and because one can always trust a padre to keep his mouth shut. Rather a relief to tell someone, actually. It’s been bothering me for some time.’

‘I bet. Do you in fact believe Perry’s denial?’

‘Sometimes I do,’ said James, ‘but sometimes I don’t — andthat’s what bothers me most: not knowing for sure what really happened. I’m a simple, straightforward type. I like to know where I stand.’