Observatory Mansions: A Novel

by Edward Carey

Mother, back outside Claire Higg’s flat (not rising to the third floor until she was certain that Father was away from the stairs and down on the ground floor): Claire has suffered a terrible loss. She sits alone, crying day and night. We have tried to take her out, we have offered her walks in the park and hot chocolate in cafés. She does not find our offers tempting. Every morning we come and knock on her door. She says she can’t come out because she saw a dead sparrow from her window, lying at the side of the road. It’s a bad sign, she says. On other mornings she says she can’t go out because she heard a car horn which meant to her that a dangerous driver was roaming the streets and she might be knocked down. Sometimes she tells us that she can’t come out because there is a storm about to break, though there is not a cloud in the sky. She stands at the window watching the traffic going around and around.

  Tearsham Park.

  Father in flat one, in his reduced drawing room: The room is filled with girls. Mother presides over them. They are taking tea. I am sitting over there, a little way away from them. Mother tries to get me to talk to the girls but I am frightened. I keep quiet. The girls come every day and talk happily to each other, they are old friends. They do not talk to me. Mother is trying to find me a wife. I tell her that I do not want a wife. She slaps me. When the girls come the next time I am made to sit with them. Halfway through tea I upset a cup and it spills on to the dress of one of the girls. The girl screams at me, she says the dress was new. She accuses me of upsetting the tea deliberately. She had a lovely face and a lovely smile. But the smile was only on her lips when she talked to the girls. When she screams at me, accusing me of deliberately ruining her dress, she does not wear her beautiful smile. The next time the girls come to tea, the girl with the smile is not with them. Slowly, there are less and less girls at Mother’s tea parties. Then they are abandoned altogether. I am much relieved.

  Observatory Mansions.

  Mother still on the third floor, opened the sliding metal lift doors. She peered into the darkness. Mother: This is a prologue to what happened next, or before, before Miss Higg took herself away from the world. Look at that metal cord, that cord is one of the cords that used to gently pull the lift up or let it slowly come down. Look at the end of the cord. It is broken. There are rumours, that originated from Francis, that the lift cord was deliberately cut by the Porter. The police did think the cord looked a little too cleanly cut, if the cord had snapped from hard wear it would probably have been more serrated. But there was no proof.

  Tearsham Park.

  Father, still in his diminished drawing room, labelled one: I’m sitting here. No one else is in the room. The door is opened, a different door to this one which has the number one on it, and it wasn’t such a cheap door, if you tapped it, it wasn’t hollow like this one. I can see that other door, I can see that other door open, a girl walks into the drawing room. The door is closed, I hear a key in the lock. I am left locked in the drawing room with a girl. That girl is to be my future wife. She came from the city, not from such an old family as ours I am told later, but a good enough family all the same, according to my mother. She walks up to me and says hello. I look away. Now she comes closer and kisses me on the lips. I run to the door and beg my mother to open it. The girl follows me to the door and when I realize that my mother is not going to open it I turn around and the girl kisses me again. Her third kiss is longer than the other two. I stand frozen in absolute fear. I feel her tongue on my lips. Her tongue opens my mouth and wiggles about inside it. After a while she takes her tongue out and steps back from me. I realize that I have been holding my breath for a long time and feel dizzy. I breathe out. I must look upset because now the girl goes and sits in one of the chairs over there and starts crying. After a while I go and sit next to her. I pat her hand. She looks up at me. She smiles. I cannot disobey that smile. The girl smiles such a beautiful smile and says: Can I stay? I say: Yes, but not because I want her to stay. I say yes because it is impossible to contradict that smile. I hear a key turn in the lock. I hear my mother knock on the door. When I go to answer it my mother asks me, How are you, darling? I say, immediately without thinking, that I am in love. The words that have just come out of my mouth shock me. I think about them and I realize that in fact I am in love. I say it again: I am in love with … Then I stop. I do not know her name. I ask her: What is your name? She says that her name is Alice. I turn to my mother. I say: Yes, I am in love with Alice.

  Observatory Mansions.

  My mother on the third floor, somewhere between flats sixteen and nineteen. Mother: There are milk bottles outside the doors of flats sixteen and nineteen. It is precisely seven thirty in the morning. The door to flat sixteen is opened. There stands Miss Claire Higg, dressed, suggestively enough, in her nightgown. Now the door to flat nineteen is opened. Mr Alec Magnitt steps out, he is dressed tidily in an unfashionable grey suit with matching grey shoes. In one hand he holds a calculator. He picks up the milk bottle outside his door and, still keeping his door open, places the milk bottle in his fridge. Claire sees a little of his flat, that same fraction that she has always seen; she has never seen anything more. She sees a framed photograph of an old woman, possibly Alec Magnitt’s mother. Mr Magnitt returns to the landing and locks his door. Claire Higg, still posted outside the door of flat sixteen, smiles lovingly at him. He smiles nervously back. Alec Magnitt walks towards Claire Higg and places something in her hands. He opens the lift shutters and walks into the lift. He closes the lift shutters behind him. Claire Higg returns to her flat and closes the door behind her. She looks in her hands. She finds a passport photograph there of Alec Magnitt, on its reverse are written words full of love. Alec Magnitt, inside the lift, presses the button that says G on it, for the ground floor. Outside the lift a terrific noise is heard, the sound of something swiftly descending from a great height. Suddenly there is an enormous bang. Dust rises and spews out of the lift shaft on the first and second floors. Miss Higg opens her door again. She is no longer smiling. She rushes to the lift entrance on the third floor and pulls back its metal shutters. She looks down the lift shaft. She sees the broken metal cord dangling beneath her. Claire Higg screams.

  Tearsham Park.

  My father gradually ascended the stairs, my mother hearing his approach rushed up to the fourth floor. My father stopped outside flat sixteen. He heard voices coming from inside the flat. Father: This door for some unknown reason labelled sixteen, has nothing to do with the number sixteen. This door is the door to my bedroom. (Father bangs on the door.) I will not be locked out of my own bedroom. (Claire Higg curses inside. Father kicks the door. We beg him to stop, we beg him to imagine his old bedroom. He complains a little more and then, touching the door, he closes his eyes and smiles.) On the other side of this door I am lying on my four-poster bed, under the covers. I am alone. It is midnight. During the day that has just passed I have been married to Alice who I have fallen in love with; a small service in Tearsham Church. Alice is sleeping in Tearsham Park for the first time tonight. Her bedroom is two floors below. As I gaze at my ceiling I am disturbed by a knocking sound, a hand tapping on wood. Who is it? I ask. It is Alice, says Alice. The door is opened, without my permission, and Alice walks into my bedroom and closes the door behind her. She is wearing only her nightclothes. Now, hardly any time later, she is wearing nothing. Alice, completely naked, steps forwards and pulls the sheets and blankets away. Then she replaces the sheets and blankets with her naked self. She pulls down my pyjama bottoms and sits on me. She moves up and down. As she moves up and down I am overcome by a feeling of considerable pleasure. Shortly after this Alice looks down at me and asks – Already? I do not know what she is talking about and ignore her comment. Alice returns to her room. She will come back again on the next few nights and the procedure will be the same. I begin to look forward to these nights. Soon she stops saying Already? and stays with me for longer.

  Observatory Mansions.

  My mother, on the fourth floor, walked into the empty f
lat twenty-three. Mother: This, the smallest flat in the building, was once the home of Lord Aloysius Pearson. Lord Pearson lived alone. He was once the owner of a castle which was so large and so full of treasures that in the month of August he opened it to the public and, for a fee, toured his visitors around. The castle was, however, in a bad state of disrepair, and to make things worse, a cedar tree had collapsed on its roof during a thunder storm causing considerable damage. Lord Pearson could not afford to personally finance the restoration of his home. He had just one option: to hand it over with all its treasures to a trust. This trust would repair the castle and keep it open to the public all the year round. The trust stated:

  a. That it would not be possible for Lord Pearson to remain in the castle.

  b. That it would not be possible for Lord Pearson to show visitors around the castle. (See note below)

  Note: The trust has a team of specialists in history and architecture, professionally trained to entertain the public.

  Lord Pearson left his castle assured that it would be repaired and that it would keep for ever all his family’s treasures. He came to the city and bought, with the majority of what money he had left, flat twenty-three of Observatory Mansions. This building, he said, had such a feel for history, and besides, he said, the flat (formerly servants’ rooms) was so reasonably priced. Here he lived and here he died. Before he died he would often invite the other residents into his flat and show them around it as if it were a stately home. He would say – This is the drawing room where Lord Pearson sat and watched television. This is the bathroom and in this plastic bath Lord Pearson washed himself with lemon-smelling soap. This is the kitchen and at this table Lord Pearson sat and sipped his consommé soups. And so on. Lord Pearson died by taking an overdose of sleeping tablets. His money had run out. He had no idea how he could possibly earn any more. On his body which was smartly dressed in a tweed suit was a note that said:

  This is Lord Pearson.

  A stately relic dating back to the beginning of

  the century.

  Please bury in the family vaults.

  Tearsham Park.

  Father stood in abandoned flat twelve. Father: This is my mother’s room. My mother is lying in her bed. All around the room are her collection of porcelain dolls, staring at me. It is day. My mother no longer gets out of her bed any more. My mother tells me to remember to keep the Orme family alive. She tells me to study the History of the Ormes so that I may be able to pass it on to my children. Then she starts crying. She tells me that she is being persecuted by my wife. She tells me that my wife is deliberately changing the positions of all the objects in Tearsham Park. Mother tells me that Alice has been moving objets about to undermine her authority. Mother complains that when she can’t find these missing objects Alice points to the objects which have been deliberately repositioned and tells her that as far as she was aware they had always been kept there. Mother tells me that this has happened so often that the servants have begun laughing behind her back. When she asked for the whereabouts of a missing object last time, Alice asked her, in front of servants, if she was feeling well and wondered if she wouldn’t be better off in bed.

  Mother says to me, Sit with me, Francis, my darling boy. I say, I can’t, I told Alice that I would go for a walk with her. The next day my mother tells me that Alice has turned all the servants against her. I tell Mother that she is being cruel to Alice and that I will bring Alice up to the bedroom later, so that Mother can apologize to her. Mother orders me out and tells me never to come back. During the night she dies in her sleep. We bury her. I move all her porcelain dolls to the attic storerooms. My wife said: I can’t stand those dolls glaring at me. Take them away, Francis, before I smash them.

  Observatory Mansions.

  Mother, inside flat nineteen: It is the evening before the lift fails. Alec Magnitt is sitting at his desk pressing the buttons of his calculator. He hears a voice outside on the landing. He approaches his front door and puts his ear to the keyhole. He hears the Porter talking to Claire Higg, knocking on her flat door.

  Can I come in?

  No.

  Please will you come for a walk with me?

  No, I don’t want to.

  I want to kiss you. I love you.

  Leave me alone.

  Open up, I want to kiss you.

  Go away!

  The Porter leaves the door of flat sixteen and kicks the landing skirting board leaving a dent which you see here. Then he walks away cursing. I know all this because I was in flat sixteen with Claire Higg. We heard Alec Magnitt walk out of his flat and up to the door of flat sixteen. Inside the flat Claire looked excited. Then we heard the footsteps walk away and the door of flat nineteen close. Claire looked disappointed. That night Alec Magnitt wrote, on the back of a passport photograph of himself, a confession of love.

  Tearsham Park.

  My father stood in Mother’s bedroom in flat six. Father: Finally! Yes, this is right, this is my wife’s room! The same walls decorated with the same red flock paper. Perhaps it’s a little more cluttered than before, but it is her room. Look there, I recognize that night lamp, it belonged to Francis.

  Add a cot now. Put it here, by the night light. In that cot sleeps a baby. The baby is male. He is called Francis. All the first-born sons of the Orme family are named Francis. He is very small and very white. This is our baby. This is the baby that Alice and I made together.

  The portraits are smiling.

  Observatory Mansions.

  Mother: I am in the entrance hall. It is evening. Alec Magnitt is coming back home from work. He gets into the lift and is carried to the third floor. Now Claire Higg comes into the entrance hall. She has been following Alec Magnitt. She walks up the stairs to the third floor. Here comes a third person. It is the Porter. The Porter has been following Claire Higg following Alec Magnitt. His face is red. He is jealous. He descends the stairs to his basement flat. Here comes the fourth and final person. It is I, Alice Orme. I have been following the Porter following Claire Higg following Alec Magnitt. I realize the Porter has grown attached to my friend Miss Higg. There is something dangerous about him. He never showed interest in her until he discovered that Alec Magnitt loved her. Perhaps he is one of those people who can only love people who are already loved. Perhaps only then does he feel a person is worth loving. Perhaps he needs to see a person being loved in order to imagine what love is like. Then, when he sees it, he wants to steal it.

  Claire follows Alec, the Porter follows Claire, I follow the Porter. It is not an unusual occurrence. It happens a few times each week. The only person completely unaware of it is Alec Magnitt.

  It is strange that after Magnitt’s death, the Porter no longer pays any attention to Claire. He immediately loses interest, as if without Alec being there he can no longer see what it was that made Claire lovable.

  Tearsham Park.

  Father, in flat fourteen: I know that this room is the nursery, even if someone has taken the nursery tables and chairs away to fool me. And there used to be tiles the colour of bluebottle flies on the floor and halfway up the walls. In this bit of wall here, I’m sure it was here, I scratched my name. Look! Plaster! They’ve covered it up, but I was here! This is the nursery! I sat just there with my microscope. But that was long ago, now, years later, I see our child sleeping in the nursery bed. The doctor has just left, one of many doctors who we have called for these last months. Our child is five years old. He is not well. He is diseased. His head has begun to swell and he is very pale. He complains of headaches. He is sleeping now and as I look down at his pale, thin body I begin to cry. The head on that body is too large. It is out of proportion. The cheeks are very swollen. The flesh of his face looks so tight that I imagine it to be on the point of ripping.

  Observatory Mansions.

  Mother, in flat eight, where her bachelor lived: I am in the bedroom. I am not alone. I am smiling.

  Tearsham Park.

  Father, in flat fourteen: My son�
��s illness has progressed. While his head has expanded his body has become thinner. I notice he smiles a great deal. He is smiling now. Wrinkles have developed around his eyes. My son is holding one arm of his teddy bear. He has ripped off the mouth, the smile from the teddy bear’s face. My son does not want to smile. I think it is the disease affecting his face that has stretched his skin into a smile. My son has very fine, fair hair. It is parted. It is so fine that you can almost see his skull through it. I am looking at my son and I am thinking that my five-year-old son looks like an old man.

  Observatory Mansions.

  Mother, still in flat eight: I am in the bedroom. I am not alone. I am smiling.

  Tearsham Park.

  Father, in Mother’s bedroom, in flat six: My wife is in bed. She spends most of her days in bed now. She has not been in to see our son for a long time. I am wearing my pyjamas. It is night. I get into bed with my wife. I say to her: Alice, I’ve been sitting with the portraits. Alice, we need another Francis Orme. I don’t think this one will last.

  Observatory Mansions.

  Mother, up in flat eight: I am in the bedroom. I am not alone. I am smiling. I am in love with a bachelor. I have never been so happy.

  Tearsham Park.

  Father, in Mother’s bedroom in flat six: In the cot that should stand here sleeps our second child. He is another boy. He is called Thomas. Alice looks after him very carefully and cups her hands around his head every hour to check if it is swelling. She is sighing with relief. My other son, who is usually kept in the nursery by his ailment, cannot stop smiling now. His eyes, though, I notice show no happiness. He has seen the baby. He studies the child carefully, as he looks at the baby’s face he strokes his own cheeks. My wife will not allow our eldest son to touch the baby. She pushes him away when he comes near. There he is now with his back to us, walking up the stairs that lead to the nursery. He is six years old but looks sixty.