Voices in the Dark

by Catherine Banner

  ‘Munitions factory?’ I said.

  But Leo just raised his hand again and nodded.

  ‘Quickly please,’ said the tall officer, in what he must have hoped was a kind voice. ‘We are not supposed to be on duty, and the police have more than enough to do as it is.’

  I could not speak to Leo; the officers divided us all the way back to Trader’s Row. At the door, they hesitated.

  ‘My wife is expecting a baby,’ said Leo with a strange kind of calm. ‘I don’t want her to be worried by anything.’

  ‘We will wait outside the door,’ said the officer. ‘You can go inside and collect your things. We will then escort you to the harbour.’

  Leo went in ahead of me and closed the door behind us and leaned against it. I could hear Jasmine shrieking with laughter at some game in the living room above. The kind chaos of the back room seemed like the remains of someone else’s life. ‘I told you not to come,’ Leo said at last.

  ‘He was going to shoot you!’ I said. ‘If I hadn’t been there—’

  ‘Anselm, maybe it would have been better.’

  ‘Don’t be bloody ridiculous!’ I didn’t know why I was angry with him, but I was. ‘Papa, he wanted to kill you! He wanted to—’

  ‘Listen,’ he said, still in the same calm voice, as though he had heard nothing I’d said. ‘After I leave, pack your things and go to your grandmother’s. Tell Doctor Keller that he can rent out the shop. You will all have to stay there until—’

  ‘No. You can’t just order us to pack up our whole life.’

  ‘Listen to me!’ said Leo, losing his composure. ‘Anselm, in the name of God, just listen to me!’ Jasmine’s laughter faltered upstairs. ‘Sixteen years ago,’ Leo whispered, ‘I shot a man. He was an important man in Lucien’s government, and people know what I did. The Imperial Order know; they have a price on my head and it’s thousands and thousands of crowns. When I told you I was involved with the resistance, I wasn’t honest. I couldn’t tell you the full truth. But I’m telling you now.’

  I stared at him. I could say nothing.

  ‘I have to go,’ he said. ‘I have to, because if they take control of this country – if they find me – we will all be in danger. We will all be wanted criminals. You and Maria and Jasmine, even the baby. Anselm, there is nothing we can do. Don’t make this harder. I’m not Maria’s husband; I’m not your father. If I leave now, it will be better for all of you, and you can pretend you were never connected to me, and maybe it will be all right.’

  ‘But, Papa …’ I said, and could not go on.

  ‘Anselm,’ he whispered. ‘Please, just help me. I don’t think I can do this otherwise.’

  He turned and started up the stairs. I followed him. There was nothing else to do. Jasmine came running to the door when we arrived, still shrieking with laughter. She was wearing my mother’s heeled shoes and best dress, with rouge daubed liberally across her cheeks. ‘Look at me,’ she said. ‘I’m a rich lady.’

  ‘Very smart,’ said Leo.

  My mother was on the sofa with her eyes closed, but she opened them now and smiled and reached out her hand to Leo.

  ‘Are you all right?’ he said, taking it gently.

  ‘Just tired. The little duchesses were a handful today. I swear I am more a police officer than a governess to them half the time. Leo, your hand is like ice. Where have you been?’ She sat up and pushed back her hair. ‘Jasmine and I think Stirling Harold for the baby. Or Stirling Julian. What do you say?’

  Leo said nothing, just gripped her hand in both of his own. Her face darkened. ‘What is wrong?’ she said. ‘You both look as though you’ve met a ghost.’

  ‘It’s nothing,’I said. My voice didn’t sound right and only made them stare at me more anxiously. Leo went down to the shop and brought up an old suitcase we had never been able to sell.

  My mother was on her feet in a second. ‘What is this?’ she said. ‘Leo? Answer me.’

  Leo said nothing, just began throwing things into the case. Jasmine was the first to understand. She stared up at me, her face serious now behind her bizarre make-up. Then she ran into the bedroom and began pulling the things out of the case. ‘No!’ she said. ‘You’re not leaving, Papa! You’re not leaving!’

  ‘Stop it,’ said Leo quietly. ‘Jasmine, just let me do this.’

  ‘No! I won’t let you! You’re not coming back, are you? You’re going away for ever.’

  ‘Just let me pack my case.’

  ‘No, I won’t!’ She took out his clothes and threw them across the room. His shirts fell in the fireplace, sending soot flying.

  ‘What is wrong with you, Jasmine?’ Leo shouted. There was a silence. He knelt on the floor, one boot in his hand and the other somewhere out of his reach under the bed. Then he started to cry.

  ‘No,’ said my mother. ‘Leo, you swore to me that you wouldn’t leave.’

  ‘I can’t help it,’ he said. ‘It’s the police – they have called me up for National Service. I tried to say no—’

  ‘You can tell them that your wife is expecting a baby. You can, because I checked on the way back from work last week, when you were talking like this before, and I don’t see why—’

  ‘You’re not my wife,’ said Leo. ‘That’s why.’

  ‘No, Leo, damn you!’ She slammed the case closed and stared at him over it, her eyes fierce and wild.

  ‘Maria, please. I don’t have any choice. Don’t make this harder.’

  We all sounded like we were acting some tragic play. We were unequal to this, and no one could find the right words. Leo pulled the case away from my mother and went on crying. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and shoved his old army boots and his Sunday shirt into the case, then the scarf Jasmine had knitted him.

  ‘No!’ said Jasmine. ‘You can’t have that scarf if you’re leaving. You’re not my papa any more!’

  She caught hold of the end and tried to pull it away from him. He tried to hold onto it, stupidly, and it ripped in two, the wool unravelling. ‘I hate you!’ shouted Jasmine, kicking him. ‘I hate you, and I don’t care if you’re crying. You’re a bastard. I wish you’d go straight to hell!’

  ‘Jasmine,’ I said, trying to hold her back. ‘Jasmine, it’s not his fault. Stop it.’

  My mother was crying now, but she refused to let Leo see that. She stood against the door frame and swiped angrily at her tears. I knelt there with my arms around Jasmine and let her struggle. But maybe she was the only one who realized it properly. He was going to do this, pack all his things into that suitcase with the broken clasp and walk away into the dark, and none of us could stop it.

  As if from a hundred miles away, I heard a voice on the stairs. ‘The door was open, so I came up,’ my grandmother called. ‘Maria? What is going on up here?’

  She appeared at the top of the stairs and took one glance at our tear-streaked faces and the suitcase between us. ‘Heavens,’ she said. ‘Is he leaving, then?’

  Leo began trying to fasten the suitcase shut with an old belt. My grandmother went to my mother in the doorway, throwing dark glances at him. ‘Didn’t I always say?’ she burst out eventually. ‘Maria, didn’t I always tell you Leonard was no good?’

  I was still struggling with Jasmine, and I lost hold of my temper. ‘It’s not his fault, you bloody-minded old cow!’ I told her.

  There was a silence while she puffed herself up with indignation. ‘You’re just like your father,’ she said then, very steadily. ‘You’re just exactly like your father. I hope you know that, Anselm.’Then all hell broke loose.

  Leo turned without looking at any of us and ran down to the back room to fetch the rest of his things. Jasmine began wailing in earnest, and my mother knelt down and put her arms around her. I edged out of the doorway and down the stairs. Leo was working fast, piling everything into his case in the dark.

  ‘It’s not justice,’ I said. ‘It’s not justice that they are chasing you.’

  ‘It is justice,�
� said Leo.

  ‘Who was he?’ I said. ‘This man who you …’

  The word shot rested in the silence between us. Leo did not answer. The silence fell heavily as he fastened the belt around the case and tried to pull it tight. He struggled to light a cigarette, but his hands were shaking too badly. He crumpled the whole box suddenly and threw it at the wall.

  ‘Papa, tell me it will be all right,’ I said.

  ‘It will be all right,’ he said, still crying. ‘Everything will be all right. You have to have faith, Anselm.’

  ‘Is that all?’ I said. ‘This country is falling apart. You’ve just told me you’re a wanted criminal. When will we see you again if war breaks out?’

  ‘Anselm, please …’ He began climbing the stairs again slowly, dragging the case behind him.

  ‘What is this?’ I said. ‘Goodbye for ever, or what?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Snow thudded against the window. It was coming down like the end of the world, as if it wanted to extinguish everything. He turned and looked at me. ‘Anselm,’ he said. ‘I have loved you more than I could ever love a son of my own. And I will, after I go. Even if I die. Love is stronger than anything; it never lets you go. I don’t deserve you – not any of you. This is my own fault. I always had it coming to me.’

  My mother was too angry or too unhappy to kiss him, so he turned away without saying goodbye. Jasmine wailed and tried to drag him back as he left. My mother just stood crying in the doorway. He went down the stairs like that, Jasmine clinging to the handle of his suitcase all the way, her nose running and her hair dishevelled, screaming at him not to go. At the bottom of the steps, the suitcase broke. Everything fell out onto the floor and scattered.

  I stepped forward. All his Harold North books were there. ‘You can’t take those,’ I said.

  He tried to gather them up, shoving The Golden Reign into his pocket and turning to pick up the others. Jasmine began gathering them, too, clutching them to her chest.

  ‘No,’ she wailed. ‘No, I won’t let you have them. I won’t let you go.’

  He tried to pull them out of her arms, then gave up. ‘Keep them for me,’ he said. ‘Both of you.’

  Someone was hammering on the door suddenly. Leo raised a hand to his head. ‘Go upstairs,’ he mouthed to me. I caught his eyes and tried to tell him in a look that I was still his son no matter what happened now, no matter what divided us. Then I had to turn and push Jasmine inside and close the door behind us both. The cheerful firelight of the living room seemed absurd, like a stage set for someone else’s life. A fierce snowstorm was howling round the house now; we did not hear the side door close. Jasmine ran to my mother and buried her face in her dress and cried.

  Leo had forgotten one of his old boots in the hurry; it lay stupidly between the bedroom and the door. I could not stay there and let him leave on his own. ‘I’m going after him,’ I said, picking up the boot. ‘He might need this. I’ll be back.’

  When I opened the door, the snow howled through it in a torrent. It was pouring out of the sky so fast it was a solid force in the air, an early storm that would barely settle but that obscured the whole city. The flakes clung to my eyelashes and drove into my mouth. I turned and started towards the harbour. ‘Father!’ I shouted. ‘Leo!’

  I was running downhill; that was the only way I could tell I was going in the right direction. The houses on either side were just black shadows; the gas lamps were plastered with ice and gave no light at all. Someone was shouting behind me. Whether it was one of the Imperial Order or the police or just a trader in the nearest market, I could not tell, but I ran on. The wind was so merciless that it snatched my breath; I could not shout for him. I ran instead. Eventually I made out the dim lights of the harbour through the storm. Figures in red uniforms were ushering a few men towards the end of a long line. ‘Papa!’ I shouted.

  One of the men broke away and started towards me. We met in the driving snow between the harbour and the buildings. ‘Anselm, why did you follow me?’ he said.

  ‘I don’t know.’

  He put his hand on my shoulder. His fingers were very strong in that moment; his hand on my shoulder was the only real thing in the snowstorm that surrounded us. ‘Listen,’ he said. ‘Whatever happens – whatever wrongs I’ve done – I did love you, Anselm. And your mother and Jasmine. Will you tell them?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said.

  ‘You were the one who saved me,’ he said. ‘It was you most of all, in the end. Did you know that?’

  I shook my head. The wind drove the tears from my eyes, and they burned my face with cold. ‘What about the baby?’ I said. ‘What about Mother?’

  ‘Anselm,’ he said. ‘It breaks your heart, but I believe you find a way of surviving. I really believe it.’

  ‘Move along now; move along!’ the officers were shouting.

  ‘Take care of them,’ he said. ‘I promise you, I will try to find a way, but I just don’t know any more.’

  A well-dressed woman in the nearest house glanced out at us, her lamplight illuminating suddenly the square of grey slush on which we stood. She frowned, then pulled her shawl tighter around her, as if to shield herself from such a pathetic sight. Leo was standing there with his nose running. I was crying and did not care.

  ‘Anselm, I’m sorry,’ he said. Then he broke away from me and joined the line. They were all men like him, with shabby overcoats and old suitcases and tired smokers’ eyes. I watched them descend towards the harbour. Then, after a while, I could not tell which one was Leo any more. It was only then that I realized his old army boot was still in my hand. I had run all the way to the harbour with it and had forgotten to give it to him.

  I was in darkness now; the snow in the air was the only light. The gas lamps stood obscured by the blizzard. The snow slid down their panes and made the lights flicker feebly. Then, as I reached the end of Trader’s Row, it began to recede altogether. It hesitated, as though drawn back up into the air, and the gaslight spread its glow across the silent street. I walked slowly through the last flakes to the door of the shop.

  The back room was full of melting snow; it lay in a drift from the door to the bottom of the stairs, with the moonlight shining coldly on it. I must have forgotten to close the door behind me. I tried to kick it aside, then gave up. I heard it dripping below me as I walked up the stairs. Jasmine was still clutching the Harold North books when I got back. Her face was pale and blotched with crying. My mother was staring at the fire, sitting awkwardly in the armchair because of her swelling stomach. I closed the door quietly behind me.

  ‘Well!’ said my grandmother. ‘Now that Leo has given up his responsibilities, someone must take charge. I will go and fetch my things tomorrow morning. In your condition, Maria, you cannot be in the house on your own.’

  ‘Mother, I’m fine.’

  ‘Nonsense.’

  We were all too dejected to argue. We let her lecture us, detailing her plans as though this was some army campaign. There were two police officers in the alley opposite; I could make out the blazing red of their uniforms in the dark. Even so, none of us slept that night. We sat up around the fire, watching the wind trouble the flames. ‘Will Father be at Holy Island yet?’ said Jasmine at about eleven o’clock. I’d had to tell them where he was going.

  ‘He might be halfway to the west coast by now,’ said my mother. ‘If the snow has not stopped them. He will have to go all the way along the river, and then cross the countryside by coach, and then take another ship to Holy Island.’

  We fell into silence again. Traces of Leo’s presence were everywhere, things he had left carelessly as he fled and things that he could not have taken. The ring with his initials, which my mother turned around on her finger, and his old leather jacket that I still wore. And the look of him in Jasmine’s eyes.

  ‘He’ll be back for my play, won’t he?’ she said.

  My mother stroked her hair. ‘You know your papa – he never misses anything if he doesn’t have a
good reason.’

  ‘That means no,’ said Jasmine. ‘Doesn’t it?’ Neither of us answered. ‘If he doesn’t come back, I won’t ever speak to him,’ said Jasmine. ‘Why did he have to go away?’

  ‘It was not his fault,’ I said.

  A dismal silence fell again. ‘Where’s Holy Island?’ said Jasmine.

  ‘Get the atlas and I’ll show you,’ said my mother.

  Jasmine ran to fetch it. It was my old atlas; Leo had bought it for me from a trader he knew in my second year at Sacred Heart Infant School. The borders were already out of date. ‘There,’ said Jasmine, pointing to Holy Island on the map. ‘A hundred miles.’

  ‘I thought you could see it from the highest tower of the castle,’ I said. ‘That was what Papa always told me.’

  My mother shook her head. ‘People like him can. No one else.’

  I supposed she meant people with powers.

  ‘There,’ Jasmine said, drawing a line in red pencil straight from Malonia City to Holy Island.

  ‘Don’t do that,’ said my mother. ‘It won’t come off.’

  She drew another line defiantly. ‘I hate Malonia,’ she said. She scribbled over the page, pressing so hard that the pencil went through the paper.

  ‘We should have gone with him,’ said my mother, and shivered.

  At midnight, I wandered down to the yard and stood in the snow. It was already melting. I thought perhaps Leo would come trailing back up the street and tell us he had changed his mind. And standing there in the dark, I thought of Michael. When his father had been taken to the government hospital two years ago with a failing heart, he had stood under my window and thrown gravel at the pane until I woke. I had sat beside him while he waited, and he would have done the same for me, but now he was gone and I didn’t know where. And Aldebaran could have helped us, but he was unjustly killed, and no one seemed to remember. I wondered if this was how it always was when someone went away from you. It only made you miss the other people the more fiercely.