The Road Between Us (8 page)

‘Waste of time.’

‘But you’re looking much better. You’ve gained weight.’

‘So you keep saying.’

Niall hears these thin words as a reproach. On his last few visits he has felt increasingly self-conscious about his own weight.
Edward’s attenuated frame seems to be a criticism of him, a confirmation of his moral inferiority.

He looks for a distraction, sensing that his old friend is going to prove hard work today after all. Still chilly and absent. As he looks around the room he realizes, with a stab of guilt, that he probably knows its layout better than its owner does. Though most of the objects are relics from Edward’s years in the diplomatic service, their locations have changed. Niall had helped Frejya rearrange them after they decorated this room together and he put up the new shelf. He tests this now with his thumb to check its rawlplugs are holding. It is fine, easily standing the weight of the African mask and fly switch, the statue of Buddha, the paperknife in the style of a Florentine dagger, the Russian doll and the pair of Spanish candlesticks shaped like entwined serpents.

The lacquered Chinese screen that Edward would have remembered as being against the window is now in the corner, concealing the television. The Turkish scimitar that used to lie on top of the bookcase is now displayed on the wall. Only the old French rifle is in its original place, mounted above the fireplace, its spiked bayonet still pointing at the rocking chair in the corner. Edward’s father had brought it home from the war as a souvenir.

Niall picks up a framed photograph of himself with Edward. They are wearing the same college scarf as they punt together on the Cam. He checks his watch. Almost six. ‘Oh, sod tea; let’s open a bottle of wine. Fancy a glass?’

Edward shrugs.

Niall puts a hand to his stomach as if trying to flatten it as he goes through the doorway. In the kitchen he selects a bottle of red from the rack, and blows dust from its label before pulling its cork, pouring two glasses and swirling one of them around. He sips. Its thickness takes him by surprise, like meat on his tongue.

When he returns to the room he hands a glass to Edward then he points at the old Staunton chessboard with his index finger and cocks his thumb like a pistol. ‘Fancy a game?’

‘Only if you’ve improved.’

Niall laughs, grateful for the change of mood. ‘You know me, I am to chess what Wayne Rooney is … to chess.’ This is better, he thinks. In the past few weeks, the chessboard has proved a useful no man’s land between them. A game that does not require conversation. He sets up the pieces before taking a black pawn in one hand and a white in the other and holding them behind his back. Edward taps his right arm and, seeing he has picked white, makes the first move, developing a knight. Niall moves his queen pawn two spaces. Edward mirrors it.

‘Got some good news,’ Niall says without taking his eyes off the board. ‘I don’t know whether your solicitor has been through the details yet but when you …’ he curves the air with his fingers, ‘ “died” your half of the mortgage was written off and Frejya’s half …’ Pause. He has realized what he is about to say. ‘The building society have now said that they are satisfied that Frejya’s death wasn’t, you know, that she didn’t … Anyway, you don’t have a mortgage now.’

A black cat pokes its head around the door, like a nervous publicist checking on a client.

‘Didn’t know you’d got a cat,’ Niall says.

‘Not ours. Belongs to a neighbour. Hannah has been feeding it scraps … Whose decision was it to declare me dead?’

Niall crosses his arms. Pretends to be weighing up his next chess move. ‘It was a departmental decision, really. Standard procedure.’

‘How did Frejya take it when you told her?’

‘She was upset, obviously.’

‘She had her accident soon afterwards, didn’t she?’

Niall moves his head in agreement. ‘Anyway, in addition to the death-in-service payment we made to Frejya, which I will make sure doesn’t have to be paid back, I gather that you both had private life insurance. Frejya got half a million when you “died” and Hannah got a further half-million when Frejya died. So financially … I don’t know what becomes of that, but I’ll make sure we cover you for it if the insurance company want your half back.’

‘Thanks. Again.’ Edward moves a bishop from one side of the
board to the other but ends up on the wrong diagonal. A frown. ‘Have I moved that properly?’ he asks.

‘Perhaps we shouldn’t rush things.’

‘In the cave I used to try and replay games in my head,’ Edward says, placing the piece on the correct square.

Niall leans forward.

‘There was one I’d memorized when I was at school, Bobby Fischer versus Donald Byrne, the one where Fischer made a queen sacrifice on move 17, getting a rook, two bishops and a pawn in return. He then went on to force a checkmate while Byrne’s queen sat helpless at the other end of the board. I kept trying to picture the notation but I couldn’t do it. It’s hard to …’ He trails off.

‘Concentrate when you’re light-headed from lack of food?’ Niall nods encouragingly. Keep it light, he thinks. Keep him talking. A conversation between friends rather than a debrief. ‘What did you miss most?’

Edward closes his eyes, his usual signal to change the subject.

‘Do you want to see your obituary?’ Niall pats his pockets and then shakes his head, making the flesh under his chin double up and crease. ‘I must have left it in my case. They rang me for a quote when they were writing it. I told them you were lazy and feckless.’ He grins to show he is joking.

‘My guards showed it to me in the cave. It was in the edition of the
Telegraph
they filmed me holding up.’

‘Yes, of course it was. I’d forgotten that.’

‘Is that why you had me declared dead? To make them show some proof of life?’

Niall looks away. ‘There were a number of options we were considering.’

Colour is rising to Edward’s face. ‘Did anyone think to tell Frejya that was why you were doing it?’ He says this loudly, almost shouting.

Niall puffs out his cheeks. ‘We thought it would be kinder not to. We thought declaring you dead would give her some closure.’

‘It gave her closure all right.’ There is heat in Edward’s words now.

Niall castles, moving his king first with an emphatic click of wood against wood. The silence flows back into the space between them heavily, like oil.

But Edward hasn’t finished yet. ‘Why did they let me go?’

‘We don’t know … Did they talk to you at all?’

Without taking his eyes off Niall, Edward bites his lip and moves his head from left to right, right to left.

‘There were no other hostages?’

‘None. Why did they release me?’

Niall shrugs clownishly. ‘Perhaps they found you too annoying.’

No smile from Edward. There is an urgency to his next question. ‘Was my liberty bought? Did I endanger other people? I need … I can’t seem to …’

‘Sorry, Northy. I’m not very good at this. What advice did your therapist give?’

‘I told you, he’s a waste of space … He kept asking me how I felt about the people who held me hostage.’

‘And how do you feel?’

‘Don’t feel anything.’

Niall purses his lips as he nods. ‘Well, I hate them. Fucking animals.’ Realizing he is breathing rapidly, he holds up his hands and laughs. ‘Sorry. It’s just I felt terrible about persuading you to go. I had to live with that for years.’

‘Poor you.’ Edward runs his hands through his hair. ‘Sorry. That sounded … It must have been hard for you, too, Niall. I’m grateful that you put your own life on hold to look after Frejya and Hannah.’

‘You were telling me about your captors. How many were there?’

‘Actually, would you mind if we talk about this another time?’ Edward is studying his friend’s fleshy face and looking puzzled.

‘I know what you’re thinking,’ Niall says with a smile he hopes will lighten the mood once more. ‘You’re thinking the features are more or less the same, but he’s aged into his own father. Right?’ He becomes aware of the ache in his jaw as he holds his smile.

‘What was Frejya like when I disappeared?’

Niall understands now that Edward is not going to let things go today. ‘Amazing. She was amazing. She lobbied constantly to keep your story in the news, keep the pressure up on the FCO to find you. She organized petitions and did things like sponsored bike rides to raise campaign funds. And she would do these vigils outside the gates of Number Ten, holding a photograph of you. There’s some video footage of her giving a press conference if you’d like to see it.’

‘Not right now.’

The cat enters again, pads around the room and leaves. Niall nods at four cardboard boxes stacked against the wall. ‘You had a chance to look through them?’ He stands up, opens one and takes out a mug and removes its bubble wrap. Written on its side are the words ‘Friends of Edward Northcote’. He hands it to Edward and opens a second box. From this he takes out a T-shirt wrapped in cellophane, some pens and balloons and a mouse mat. He holds them up in turn to show they all have the same words printed on them. ‘And have you read any of these?’ He unties the neck of a bulging bin liner, reaches inside and pulls out a handful of letters. ‘There are three or four more of these around here somewhere. Letters of support from the public. Cards from well-wishers.’

Edward holds the mug up to the light from the window. ‘When I was declared dead …’ he says. ‘How did Frejya react?’

‘She sort of lost the will to, um …’

‘Do you think she killed herself?’

‘No. Definitely not.’

‘Was there a ransom paid for me?’

‘I don’t mean to be evasive, Northy, but we’re having an internal inquiry about what happened and once …’

‘What I don’t understand is why there was no intelligence about who was holding me. Why was … We were occupying their country, for God’s sake.’

‘We didn’t know you were alive.’

‘But you didn’t try and find out whether I was or I wasn’t? What
about that French academic who was taken at the same time as me? His government got him released quickly enough.’

‘The French always pay ransoms, that’s why their citizens are always the preferred targets for kidnappings … Has Hannah shown you the cuttings file about the campaign? Let me see if I can find it.’ Niall opens a drawer, searches around it for a moment then tries the one next to it. From this he takes out a ring binder. ‘Here.’ He opens it and taps with his finger at a newspaper cutting. It shows Frejya holding a lit candle in one hand and a photograph of Edward in the other. There is tape over her mouth. As Edward studies it, Niall hears in his memory the loud crackle as she pulls out a strip of duct tape and cuts it with scissors before sealing her lips.

Edward turns the page and sees a photograph of himself, the one taken in the cave with him holding up a copy of the
Daily Telegraph
. ‘So the ransom demand came after this was taken?’

Niall hesitates again. ‘Yes.’

‘And was it paid?’

‘The British government cannot pay ransoms.’

‘Was it paid?’

A beat. ‘Yes.’

‘Who paid it?’

Another beat. ‘I did.’

Edward’s eyes widen. ‘
You
did?’ He rubs his brow. ‘Why didn’t you say? How much was it?’

‘Three million dollars.’

Edward stands up. Begins pacing. ‘Where did you get …?’

‘I found a way to channel it from our overseas development fund … There’s nothing on paper about it, but if it comes out I’ll take full responsibility.’

Edward shakes his head. Cups the back of his neck with his hand. ‘Fuck!’ He shakes his head again. ‘I mean, I don’t know what to say, Niall. Thank you. You saved my life.’

Niall gets to his feet. The two embrace.

‘Thank you,’ Edward repeats in a whisper, kissing Niall’s neck.
‘Thank you so much.’ When he sits down again he adds: ‘And thank you for levelling with me. It puts my mind at rest.’ He folds his arms and looks up at the ceiling. Hannah has turned the music off and is practising her guitar again, her bass this time. ‘She showed me a clip of herself playing in her band. They were pretty good. She holds her bass low, like Sid Vicious.’

‘Did you tell her you thought they were good?’

‘I don’t recall.’

‘Well, you should. She needs your approval.’ Niall looks away, his lower lip drawing back. He is thinking about how much he had enjoyed being a surrogate father to Hannah when Frejya was busy campaigning. She had become the child he and his wife Sally had been unable to have. ‘She’s grown up to be beautiful, hasn’t she? Smart too. And confident. You must be very proud.’

‘It didn’t exactly have a lot to do with me.’ Edward draws his fingers down his face until they are resting against his chin. ‘She reminds me too much of Frejya … And I can’t deal with it.’

‘Can’t or won’t?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean …’ Niall isn’t sure what he means. He has seen the way Edward sometimes looks at Hannah and it worries him in ways he can’t quite articulate, as if even to give a shape to his thoughts would be taboo.

Edward sighs. His hands are shaking slightly. ‘I think I know what you mean. She’s like … like Frejya’s ghost haunting the house, this stranger impersonating my wife. It’s unbearable.’

The tips of Niall’s fingers grow cold as he realizes what it is that bothers him about the way Edward’s eyes sometimes fix on his daughter: he used to look at his wife in the same way. The same fervent stare. He is sure Edward hasn’t realized this himself. Not yet. But now he finds himself wondering whether, when he does, it will be too late. ‘Actually, I don’t think they are all that similar,’ he lies.

‘Really?’

‘And even if she does look a bit like Frejya, it’s not her fault.’

‘Fault? What are you talking about?’

‘Perhaps being cooped up in the house together all day doesn’t help. Too many memories. Why don’t you get away somewhere? A long holiday.’

‘Now you mention it, I had a letter from someone offering me the use of his holiday home in Alsace. Acres of garden. Very private.’

‘Who?’

‘Some investment banker. His driver delivered the invitation by hand.’