by Louise Welsh
‘It’s also ancient. Be careful it doesn’t blow your legs off.’
‘Ha bloody ha.’ Belle danced the torch up and down his body, seeing him properly for the first time since they had snuck into the darkness of the basement. ‘What happened to you? You’re a mess.’
Magnus told her an edited version of his night: the flight through the forest to the house where Raisha was hiding; Raisha cycling away, in search of children to help.
Belle said, ‘I guess this is where I’m meant to say, plenty more fish in the sea.’
She giggled and Magnus joined in, both of them laughing more than the joke warranted.
A distant shout echoed up the stone staircase. Magnus turned towards it. ‘It’s Jeb.’
Belle said, ‘I don’t want to see him.’
But Magnus had taken the torch from her and was hurrying down the winding stairs to the lower depths.
Thirty-Seven
Magnus shone the beam of the torch through the grille in the floor, down into the cell below. Jeb was stretched out on the cold flagstones and for a moment Magnus thought he was dead, but then he groaned and sat up, shielding his eyes with his hands.
‘Who’s there?’
‘It’s me.’ Magnus turned off the torch, but he had already seen the pale skin flaking from lack of sunlight on Jeb’s face and hands. He had only been down there for a day and a night, but the man looked drawn and Magnus wondered if Will had bothered to feed him. ‘How’s the leg?’
Jeb sounded as if his throat were made of sandpaper. ‘The rest of me’s so fucked it’s hard to know.’
Belle was standing out of sight by the staircase. Magnus heard her intake of breath at the sound of Jeb’s voice and resisted an urge to turn and look at her. He pressed his face close to the bars. ‘I’ve not made much progress.’
‘I told you, you wouldn’t, fucking Jock.’ There was a sound of rustling as Jeb shifted in the darkness below. ‘Have they decided how they’re going to do it?’
‘Do what?’
‘Kill me.’
Magnus turned the torch on again, angling it across the grille so he could make out the substance of the room below, without blinding Jeb. ‘I don’t know.’
‘Don’t know much, do you? Did you bring me any grub?’
Magnus did not want to mention the men congregated in the kitchen. ‘I’ve just got back.’
‘Christ, prison’s a distant memory for you, isn’t it?’ Jeb curled his body forward, hiding his face and stretching his spine. ‘I’ve been thinking about how I want to go.’
‘There’s no point in—’
‘Get Raisha to make something that’ll knock me out. Something painless, she’ll know how to do it. And keep that old priest away from me. I don’t want the last thing I hear to be him blathering on about God’s forgiveness.’
Belle was quietly sobbing in the turn of the staircase. Magnus wanted to tell her to shut up, but he said, ‘Raisha isn’t here any more.’ Jeb looked up. It was hard to make out his expression, but something about the way he cocked his head made Magnus say, ‘She knows as little as we do about Jacob’s murder, less.’
‘It’s the guilty who run. I don’t know why she did it, but I’m betting it was her.’ The sour stoicism Jeb had cultivated in Pentonville was gone. In its place was fear. ‘You let her escape.’
Magnus said, ‘I think I can persuade Belle to change her mind. I’ll ask her to talk to Will and Father Wingate with me.’
‘You won’t turn that bastard. The only way to change his mind is to put a bullet in his head.’
‘A life for a life?’
‘Live by the sword, die by the sword.’
Magnus said, ‘That sounds like an argument for not killing him.’
A grating metal-on-metal sound came from somewhere beyond Magnus’s line of vision. He switched off the torch, sending the space back into darkness. There was a creak of hinges and a scraping noise that Magnus guessed came from an untrue cell door dragging across flagstones. Magnus jerked away from the grille, just before a light arced into the dungeon. A voice he did not know said, ‘That’s him. I remember his face.’
Jeb’s voice was hard and belligerent. ‘Do I know you?’
‘He definitely did it?’ Magnus recognised Will’s voice.
‘No question.’ The stranger sounded convinced. ‘You’ll be doing the world a favour.’
Magnus risked a quick look through the grille. Will and the stranger were standing in the cell doorway and he could only make out the shadows they cast on the floor. Jeb was struggling to get to his feet, but his damaged leg would not co-operate. He gave up and half sat, half lay; sprawled on the flagstones like a man who had suddenly plummeted to earth.
‘Who the hell are you?’
‘I’m no one.’ The stranger had a pleasant voice, mild and lilting, with the reasoned delivery favoured by newsreaders. ‘We’re all no one now, except for you. You’re a murderer.’
Will set something down on the flagstones. ‘Water and sandwiches.’
Magnus heard the scraping sound of the door closing.
‘The key witness at my trial was a fucking liar!’ Jeb tore off his shoe and threw it at the door but the key was grating in the lock. He waited a moment, gathering himself, then looked up towards the ceiling. Magnus’s eyes met his; a powerless god’s-eye-view. Jeb said, ‘Either find a way to get me out of here, or find a way to kill me. I don’t want them to have the satisfaction.’
‘I’ll get you out,’ Magnus promised. He stood up, his mind empty of escape plans. He had almost forgotten Belle, waiting in the staircase behind him.
She whispered, ‘Was it the short guy with the longish hair? He’s their leader.’
‘I couldn’t see him.’
‘I bet it was him.’
The girl began to climb the stairs. Magnus caught her by the arm.
‘Raisha told me that you were the first one to find Melody.’
Belle’s features were lost in the dark, but her voice was clear of tears. ‘She said she wouldn’t tell anyone.’
‘Being frightened is nothing to be ashamed of.’
‘Is that all she told you, that I was frightened?’
‘Weren’t you?’
‘I’m always frightened.’ She shook him free and resumed her climb.
Magnus asked, ‘What happened in the barn?’
Belle’s footsteps halted. Magnus remembered the gun tucked in the belt of her jeans and recalled again that it was supposedly the same one that had been used to shoot Jacob. He heard her turn towards him and felt the warmth of her body as she leaned in close and whispered, ‘I killed her.’
The basement was as far as the staircase descended. There was nowhere to go except upwards, and so he followed her, his mind numb, into the deserted hallway of the main house and then through another unmarked door in the wallpaper and up to the attic storeys. She led him into a room that had been converted into an artist’s atelier. The north side of the ceiling and much of the wall was composed of panes of glass. But it was not the room’s bright contrast with the murk of the basement or the unbroken view across the countryside that drew Magnus’s breath.
Images of death danced over the walls, across a landscape that drifted between green countryside, seas that raged then shone glass-calm, and towering cities in skyscraper-wonder. There were cramped suburbs of identical houses and ancient monuments: the pyramids, the Coliseum, Stonehenge. Sometimes death took the form of the laughing skulls that had decorated bags, Tshirts, scarves, even children’s clothes before the sweats. But it also came clothed in flesh, in the shape of beautiful women, bare-breasted mermaids and aged crones. A hooded figure equipped with an hourglass and scythe crept a steady path through the scenery, touching people on the shoulder, proving that death is no respecter of age, piety, wealth or beauty.
At first Magnus thought all the images had been cut from books and magazines, but then he saw that some of the figures had been painted. The style was naïve,
with little concession to perspective, but somehow that intensified their effect.
‘Did you do these?’
‘I used to make collages from photographs I cut out of my mother’s fashion magazines when I was little. I got quite obsessive about it.’ Belle smiled. ‘Sometimes I’d see a picture I liked, a beautiful model, or an amazing building, and tear out the page before she’d read it. I knew I’d get into trouble, but I couldn’t stop myself.’ She shrugged her shoulders. ‘I thought I’d grown out of it.’
Belle had seemed like a spoiled child-woman bemused at her sudden lack of advantages in the post-sweats world, but the images on the wall formed a map of sweltering pain. Magnus stepped closer. He recognised the origin of some of the photographs, others he guessed: here was a smile culled from a toothpaste commercial, here a child that had been used to advertise cereal, here a rose that had once blossomed from a garden centre catalogue. He ran his fingers lightly over the collage, feeling the roughness of the pictures’ edges. It was all there: the pain of loss, the petty frivolousness of things he missed, the hopes – some of them so ludicrous it was strange to think of them now – that would never be realised.
‘It’s amazing.’ It was obsessive too. How many hours had it taken to find and clip the images? How many more to piece them together in a way that made such skewed but perfect sense? Magnus turned and looked at Belle for the first time since they had left the cellar. ‘Did you kill Henry and Jacob?’
Belle gave a small snort of amusement. ‘I wondered if the collage looked a bit serial-killer’s bedroom. I guess I know now.’
The girl sank on to the floor, among a mess of discarded books and magazines. She winced, pulled the gun from her waistband and set it on the floor at her right hand.
Magnus kept his eye on the gun. ‘You didn’t answer my question.’
Belle’s voice was incredulous. ‘Are you serious?’
‘You said you killed Melody.’
‘I had nothing to do with Jacob’s or Henry’s deaths but yes, I feel responsible for Melody’s.’
Magnus’s relief was tempered by a snap of irritation. The confession had been a piece of melodrama. He sensed time draining away, like sand in one of the hourglasses that decorated the wall.
‘You didn’t actually kill her.’
‘You don’t know what you’re talking about.’
Magnus sat on the floor beside her. He knew he should formulate a plan, but he was weary to his bones.
‘Someone close to me drowned himself. It’s a long time ago now. The guilt doesn’t go away, but I didn’t kill him. He did it to himself.’
‘Did you see it happen?’
‘No, he was on his own.’ The sweats had not cured Magnus of his horror of how alone Hugh must have been.
‘Melody was a mess. She was sweet and kind and beautiful, but the sweats had fucked her up.’
‘Raisha thought you were jealous of her.’
Magnus had expected Belle to be angry, but instead she smiled. ‘Maybe I was a little. Like I said, Melody was beautiful, but I wasn’t jealous of her demons.’ She picked one of the magazines from the floor. ‘Raisha brought me some of these. She’s a strange woman, maybe we’re all strange now, but she cares. It’s a shame you let her go.’
It was in Magnus’s mind to say that Raisha had never been his to keep, but instead he said, ‘They’re going to kill Jeb soon. Is there anything in all this that might lead me to Jacob’s killer?’
‘I doubt it.’ Belle took his hand in hers. ‘Was your friend in pain?’
‘He must have been, but I didn’t notice.’
He had not seen much of Hugh in the weeks before he killed himself. Magnus had been waiting tables at the Kirkwall Hotel and trying to get a French student who was working there for the summer into bed. He was not sure what Hugh had been up to. His cousin had phoned the week before he walked into the sea, but the tourist season had been drawing to an end and Isabelle had been due to return to Nantes.
Magnus would exchange the opportunity of reliving all his audiences’ laughter and applause for a second chance at his cousin’s phone call. He had told Hugh he was busy and that he would catch him later.
Belle said, ‘Melody was in agony.’
‘Was she sick?’
‘Not physically, but in herself, yes. We were all depressed of course, still are, but Melody took it to another level. Raisha gave everyone happy pills. I swallowed mine down like a good girl. I think the others did too, but Melody refused to take any. She said she needed her emotions to be authentic. I told her the pills don’t stop you feeling bad. She just needed to look at Jacob or Will to know that. All they do is take the edge off things and make it possible to think without falling apart.’
The long night was catching up with Magnus. In another life it might have been pleasant to sit on the floor of the art room holding Belle’s hand and swapping failures, but he had to think about how to free Jeb. He said, ‘You couldn’t force her to take them.’
‘I thought about putting them in her food. I wish I had now. Melody was in so much agony it hurt to be with her. We went swimming in the river together once. She always wore jeans and men’s shirts with long sleeves. I should have guessed the reason, but it was such a hot summer I thought she was covering up against the sun, or that maybe something had happened to her that made her wary of showing her body. When she took her shirt and trousers off, I saw the slashes on her arms and legs. Melody said cutting herself made her feel better.’ Belle gestured at the collage. ‘I make these pictures for the same reason. It hurts, but I’m in control of the pain.’
The light was stinging Magnus’s eyes. He closed them. ‘You couldn’t have predicted what would happen.’
Belle’s voice was small. ‘She wasn’t dead when I went into the barn.’
Magnus kept his eyes shut. He could feel sleep coming for him. ‘Raisha told me about that too. I know Jacob tried to revive her, but that’s the kind of man he was. Even when it was hopeless, he wouldn’t let death win without a fight.’
‘I didn’t tell Raisha everything.’ Belle took her hand back and something in her voice made Magnus open his eyes and look at her. ‘Her feet were still twitching. The chair she had stood on to reach the beam was standing next to her. I could have climbed on to it and supported her weight until someone came to help cut her down, but I didn’t.’
Magnus already knew the answer, but he asked, ‘What did you do?’
‘I dragged the chair away and ran out of the barn.’ Tears were running down Belle’s face. ‘She was in so much pain, letting her die seemed like the right thing to do.’
Hugh lifted his head from the water. He raised a hand and then sank into a sea that was too calm to drown a grown man. Magnus shifted along the wall, putting a space between them. ‘You let Melody die because her pain made you feel bad.’
‘That’s not true.’
Magnus sat on his hands to stop himself from raising them to her. ‘Melody dragged you down, so you turned your back on her.’
‘No.’
There was a sink in the corner of the studio stacked with paint-crusted pots and brushes. Magnus went to it, stuck his head under the cold tap and then peeled off his soiled T-shirt and began to wash himself.
‘Do you know why you can’t get the image of Melody kicking on that rope out of your head? Because it’s against human nature to watch someone harm themselves without trying to stop them. Compassion for other people is what makes us human. The only person you feel sorry for is yourself. What does that make you?’
Belle was hunched against the wall, hugging her knees. ‘I was frightened of her.’
‘Because she was mentally ill?’ There was a soiled-looking towel on a nail by the sink. Magnus dried himself with it. It was like rubbing his skin with sandpaper. ‘You’re going to be fucking terrified from now on. I’m guessing ninety per cent of whoever is left are off their heads.’
Belle looked up. ‘I loved Melody. It was her who brough
t me here. She saved me.’
A black hoodie was slung over a chair. Magnus pulled it on. It was musty-smelling and paint-spattered, but cleaner than his mud-stiff T-shirt. ‘If you want to confess, go to Father Wingate. I’ve got things to do.’
Belle’s words came out in a rush. ‘I keep thinking that maybe it was Melody who killed Henry and Jacob and that I’ll be next.’
Magnus’s hand was on the door of the studio. He turned and looked at her. ‘Is this just another bit of drama?’
Belle raised her eyes to his. ‘Melody was pretty crazy before she killed herself. She’d started to say that God intended the sweats to be the end of the world. Father Wingate spent hours with her, but Melody was convinced that the people who had survived had interfered in some divine plan. She was adamant that everyone was meant to be dead, including us.’ The gun was still on the floor by Belle’s hand. She pushed it away. ‘Melody was sweet and good, but I’d started to think she might poison our food or stick a knife in us all while we slept.’
‘Did no one suggest locking her up?’
‘I think Jacob would have liked to, but Father Wingate was against it. He was sure he could save her through talk and prayer and Jacob agreed to let him try.’
‘Why didn’t you just leave?’
‘I was scared. I didn’t want to be on my own.’ She looked at Magnus. ‘I have dreams where Melody comes back for the rest of us. I saw her body, she looked dead, but what if Jacob managed to revive her after all? You used to read stories of people digging their way out of their grave and coming back for revenge.’
‘Not in newspapers you didn’t, not broadsheets anyway.’ Magnus crossed the room and crouched next to her. ‘These stories are fiction. This is just guilt and suspicion.’
Belle’s eyes were wide. She grasped his hands in hers and he saw that retelling the story had pushed her close to panic. ‘What if she’s a ghost?’
Magnus pulled Belle to her feet and hugged her. ‘Ghosts don’t exist.’ He held her at arm’s length. ‘If they did, this place would be hooching with them.’
Belle whispered, ‘I need to get away from here. Can we leave together? I don’t want to travel on my own. Neither do you. That’s why you teamed up with Jeb.’
