Dominion

by C. J. Sansom

  ‘Been a bit busy with visiting time, but the rush is over now.’ The porter gave the nurse a key and turned to the old couple ahead of David and Geoff. The old man said in a Black Country accent, ‘We’re here to visit our daughter. Amy Lascelles, on Domville Ward.’

  The porter shook his head reprovingly. ‘Visiting time’s nearly over.’

  ‘It takes a long time to get over from Walsall.’

  The porter sighed. ‘Identity cards?’

  The old couple produced them and the porter made an entry in a ledger. ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘Just wait to the side a minute.’ He turned to David and Geoff. ‘Yes, sirs?’

  ‘We’ve come to visit a patient too, Frank Muncaster,’ David answered. ‘I’m sorry we’re a bit late, we’ve driven up from London.’

  The porter’s manner became deferential on hearing David’s accent. ‘Does the ward know you’re coming, sir?’

  He took a deep breath. ‘No. This gentleman and I are old school friends of his. We heard from a friend of Dr Muncaster’s at the university that he was here – it was a bit of a shock. We decided to come up and see him.’

  The porter looked over at Natalia, sitting in the car. ‘And the lady?’

  Geoff said, ‘She’s a friend of mine. She drove us up.’

  ‘Well, I dare say it’ll be all right. Can I just see your identity cards?’

  David handed over the fakes. The porter wrote down the false names, then turned to the young man at the switchboard. ‘Give Ironbridge Ward a ring, Dan, tell them Muncaster’s got visitors. Send some one out to the front steps to meet them. Muncaster’s popular today,’ he added.

  David looked at Geoff. ‘What do you mean?’ he asked non-committally.

  ‘A couple of policemen came earlier, more questions about the incident I imagine.’ The porter leaned comfortably on the ledge. ‘You know he attacked his brother, threw him out of a window? I saw him when he came, he didn’t look violent but you can’t ever tell. I remember a man who were as quiet as a mouse for years, then one day he laid out two attendants and a doctor before you could say Jack Robinson.’ The porter shook his head with gloomy relish.

  The younger man turned round from the telephone. ‘Mr Hall will wait for the visitors at the entrance.’

  ‘Open the gates for them, would you?’

  The young porter went out, jangling a large bundle of keys. The nurse had already let herself in. David and Geoff got back into the car. The porter opened the gates and they drove through, the old couple walking in behind them. As Natalia started the engine David told her about the police visit. They heard the gates clang shut behind them.

  ‘What was it about?’

  ‘He didn’t know. He guessed it was about the attack on Frank’s brother.’

  ‘We’ll have to ask this Ben Hall. It can’t be anything too worrying or he’d have warned us off. We know there’s a police file open.’

  Just beyond the gate a concrete bridge passed over a wide ditch with steep sides, muddy water at the bottom. Beyond it thick, tall privet hedges had been planted. David looked up the drive at the big house. As they approached the main doors a stocky young man in a brown, short-jacketed uniform came out and stood at the top of the steps. He was in his thirties, with a pleasantly ugly, prematurely lined face and a broken nose. He had a whistle on a chain at his belt, and a bunch of keys. Natalia parked the car to one side of the door. ‘All right,’ she said quietly. ‘That’s our man, I’ve seen a photograph. I’ll stay here. Good luck.’ David and Geoff got out again. The young man smiled and extended a hand, looking at them with sharp eyes.

  ‘Mr Ladyman and Mr Hedges?’ He had a strong Glasgow accent.

  ‘Yes,’ David replied. ‘I’m Hedges. Good afternoon.’

  ‘Hi. Thanks for coming. Frank’ll be pleased to see youse.’

  David glanced back. The old couple were approaching the steps, their heads cast down in shame as they neared the asylum.

  Inside the walls were painted an institutional green, the floors scuffed wooden blocks. Ben unlocked a heavy inner door leading into a long corridor. Two men in grey woollen uniforms stood watching them listlessly. They had comically bad pudding-basin haircuts, their ears sticking out below.

  ‘The porter said some police came to visit Frank earlier,’ David said quietly.

  ‘Aye.’ The attendant lowered his voice too. ‘We can talk about that when we get to the office.’

  ‘Security seems pretty tight here,’ Geoff said.

  ‘It is. Ye cannae get in without a key from the lodge and all the inner doors are locked.’ Ben turned to David, his tone still conversational. ‘So, you an’ Frank used to be good pals?’

  ‘Yes, at university. But I haven’t seen him for years.’

  ‘He seems to think a lot of you,’ Ben said. ‘He remembers your friend, but it was you he was attached to. I’ve got him in a separate wee room.’

  ‘Are there other visitors around?’

  ‘A few. Most have gone already, they don’t stay long. Most o’ the poor sods here don’t get visitors. Relatives come for a year or two, then stop. Out of shame, or seeing what their folk have come to.’

  David said uneasily. ‘You said Frank was attached to me? You make him sound like a dog.’

  Ben nodded. ‘Aye, it’s what he’s like. A whipped dog, looking for a good master.’

  ‘He’s very clever, in his way,’ David answered, a note of reproof in his voice.

  Ben nodded again. ‘He keeps that hidden. Disnae talk much. He may say more to you. Drop in the idea ye might be able to take him away if you can.’ He opened another door, with thick glass panels, and they entered a large room where a couple of dozen men, all in the same grey suits, stood around or sat watching television. Some were seated at a big table making Christmas paper chains, supervised by an older man in a brown uniform like Ben’s. There was a smell of tobacco smoke and disinfectant. A young man sat in a corner talking to a middle-aged couple, who looked anxious and afraid. Parents, perhaps, visiting their son. People in the ward looked at the two well-dressed men with interest.

  ‘Visitors for Muncaster,’ Ben said to an older nurse.

  ‘He’s popular today.’

  Ben answered lightly, ‘Aye. Where is he?’

  The other nurse nodded to one of the inner doors leading from the main room. ‘Skulking in the quiet room as usual.’ There was bored contempt in his voice.

  ‘I’ll just have a word with these guys in the office first.’ Ben led David and Geoff into a small room with a desk, a couple of battered easy chairs and a big locked cupboard on the wall. He closed the door.

  ‘What’s this about the police?’ David asked at once.

  Ben’s friendly expression was gone; he looked alert and serious. ‘Two o’ them came to see Frank late this morning. I wasn’t on the ward, but I spoke to Frank later. From what he said it was some new inspect or in charge of his brother’s case, wanted to have a general word with him. That wis what he said. The police haven’t made up their mind whether to prosecute. I think it’s all right. I hope so. But it scared Frank rigid.’

  David asked sharply, ‘Did he tell the police we were coming?’

  ‘He says not. I’d asked him no’ to tell anyone, I said it wis in case the bureaucrats wanted to get you involved.’

  ‘Would they?’

  Ben shrugged. ‘Possibly. Frank’s a bit of a problem for them, no’ having any relatives or friends to act for him. Anyway, I said I wanted to keep this meeting quiet.’

  Geoff asked, ‘How much do you know? About why we’re here?’

  Ben gave him a direct look. ‘Only that our people are very interested in Frank.’ He smiled sardonically. ‘Not that they’re goin’ to provide any details to the likes of me. I know you report to the high-ups in London. Posh fellas like yourselves, I’ve nae doot. Now,’ he added briskly, looking at David, ‘I’m told the high-ups want you to talk to Frank on his own to begin with.’

  ‘That’s what was sugges
ted.’ David thought how wide the Resistance network reached, yet how little the members knew of each other. From the little dig at his class David guessed the Scottish nurse was left-wing, maybe even a Communist. He probably resented people like him.

  ‘Frank does want to get out of here, doesn’t he?’ David asked abruptly.

  ‘Aye.’ Ben met his gaze. ‘I’ve been warning him about some of the things they do to people here. Electric shocks and these lobotomies, brain surgery.’

  David frowned. ‘To frighten him?’

  ‘To warn him,’ Ben answered evenly. ‘Listen, pal, the superintendent’s already talking about shock therapy for him.’ He looked David in the eye. ‘But yes, Frank’s needed a load of pushing to make the effort to get himself out o’ here. He’s kept quiet on drugs but he’s still feart of his own shadow. Just sits in the quiet room all day, staring out of the window. It wasn’t easy persuading him to contact you.’

  ‘Just don’t forget I’m his friend.’

  ‘We’re all his friends, pal.’

  Geoff asked, ‘What’s the superintendent like?’

  ‘Bampot,’ Ben answered contemptuously. ‘Frank doesn’t trust him, he hasn’t told him anything about what happened wi’ his brother.’ He looked keenly between them. ‘And I’ve been told by our people not to press on that one. I just know what everyone knows, there was a bad quarrel and the brother ended up goin’ out a window. And that’s when the police were called to Frank’s place. A passer-by said he’d been ranting on about the end of the world. That’s why they sent him here. I’ve been wondering what he meant by that.’

  ‘Who knows?’ Geoff answered, shaking his head.

  Ben said briskly to David, ‘Okay, fella. Let’s go and see him.’ He looked at Geoff. ‘You wait here for now, please.’

  They walked back into the day room. David looked at the men watching Children’s Hour on television; there was something sad and lost in the way they slouched. The middle-aged couple were still sitting with the young man. He sat turned away from them, his face red with anger. The woman was crying.

  Ben led them into another, smaller room, furnished with heavy old leather armchairs, an enormous Victorian painting of a stag at bay on one wall. A grey-haired man stood in a corner, trembling from head to foot. Ben went up to him and said, very quietly, ‘Could you go back to the day room, Harris, we need a wee word with Muncaster.’ The man nodded and went out. David stared after him. Ben said, ‘Shell-shock from the Great War, poor auld fucker.’

  At first David thought there was no-one else in the room, but then a thin, grey-suited figure rose from a high-backed armchair facing the window. Frank Muncaster stared at him and then smiled, not the embarrassing rictus David remembered but a shy, sad, almost wondering smile. ‘David?’ he said quietly, as though he wasn’t sure that he was real.

  ‘Hello, Frank.’ Awkwardly, David went over and extended a hand. ‘Sorry we’re a bit late.’

  Frank walked towards him, with an old man’s slow shuffle. His face had a white pallor and his thick brown hair had been badly cut into a short untidy fuzz that made his prominent ears stick out; his uniform was shapeless and too short for him. He extended his hand and David shook it, gently as always because of the damaged fingers; it felt limp and damp. The look in Frank’s eyes was unutterably weary.

  ‘How little you’ve changed,’ Frank said. ‘I can’t believe you’re here,’ he added, his voice shaking.

  There was a moment’s awkward silence, then Frank pulled himself together. ‘Take off your coat. Sit down. Thank you for coming.’

  ‘That’s all right.’

  They sat opposite each other. Ben went and stood by the door, just in earshot. Frank looked over at him, a little uneasily, David thought. ‘Can I talk to him alone?’ he asked.

  Ben said, the Glasgow accent prominent, ‘I wis telt tae stay.’

  David offered Frank a cigarette.

  ‘No thanks. I don’t.’

  ‘Of course. I forgot. Mind if I do?’

  ‘No.’ David lit up. Frank glanced out of the window. ‘I’ve been sitting looking at the mist,’ he said quietly. ‘It was snowing earlier. I’m sorry to drag you away at the weekend.’

  David leaned forward. ‘I wanted to see if I could help, old chap.’

  ‘How’s your wife, by the way?’ Frank puckered his brows. ‘Lizzie, isn’t it?’

  ‘Sarah. She’s fine.’

  ‘Of course.’ Frank shook his head. ‘Lizzie was our daily, when I was a boy.’ He frowned. ‘I get things a bit mixed up these days. The drugs make me tired. I was sorry to hear about your little boy,’ he added, looking at the floor.

  ‘Thanks.’ David smiled. ‘Thanks for the letter you sent.’

  ‘How long is it now?’

  ‘Over two years.’

  Frank nodded sadly.

  ‘How are they treating you?’ David asked after a pause.

  ‘Not too bad.’

  ‘Ben said you spend a lot of time in here alone.’

  ‘Yes. It’s quiet.’ Frank looked over at Ben. ‘It was Ben persuaded me to phone you. He’s taken a bit of interest in – in my case. I’m not sure why,’ he added quietly.

  There was another short silence. Then Frank said, laughing awkwardly, ‘The other nurses try to get me to sit in the lounge, socialize with the other patients. Not that they say much, and they can be a bit – scary.’ He looked away. ‘Though maybe they think I’m scary too, after what I did.’

  ‘Ben told us a little about that,’ David said.

  Frank’s eyes were suddenly alert, suspicious. ‘Us? I thought you came alone. Who else—’

  David raised his hands in a soothing gesture. ‘Geoff’s with me. He works in the Colonial Office now. I told him you’d phoned. My car’s in dock and his – his girlfriend offered to drive me. He’s outside, but I thought I’d see you on my own first.’ The lies were coming smoothly; but David had had so much practice.

  Frank looked relieved. He gave another sigh that shook his thin body. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘Only the police came today. It – upset me a bit.’

  ‘Aye,’ Ben called from the door, his voice artificially casual now. ‘About whether there’s to be a prosecution. Frank thought it was youse arriving early.’

  ‘What did they want, Frank?’

  ‘The inspector said they may drop the case. I don’t know. There was a sergeant, a big, quiet man. I didn’t like him.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I don’t know. There was something about him.’ Frank frowned, then said softly, ‘You never met my brother, did you?’

  ‘No. He’d gone to America just before we went up to Oxford.’

  ‘He came over for the funeral after Mother died. Only a few weeks ago, but it feels like years. That’s when it all started.’ He shook his head.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ David said.

  ‘She had a stroke. My mother. She didn’t suffer.’ Frank spoke almost indifferently. David remembered his terrible sense of loss and inadequacy when his own mother had died. But he knew Frank and his mother had never been close.

  ‘Edgar’s divorced,’ Frank went on. ‘He wanted Mother’s house sold quickly. He drinks, and he could always get nasty. Anyway, one day he was at my flat and I lost my temper and I pushed him and he fell out of the window. It was an accident, the frame was rotten. And it was all about nothing really,’ he added, giving that old rictus of a smile. He had told the story quickly, but carefully, as if it were rehearsed or memorized.

  ‘Not like you, to lose your rag, Frank,’ David said gently.

  ‘No. And if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t be in here.’ He gave a sad little laugh. ‘Actually I’ve always been frightened I might end up somewhere like this one day. I know they always thought I was pretty odd at work.’ He hesitated again. ‘Maybe you thought so too.’

  ‘No. You were shy, that’s all.’

  Frank looked at him. ‘It was just an accident. What happened.’

  David thought, but di
dn’t say, and the shouting about the end of the world?

  ‘The trouble is,’ Frank went on, ‘the hospital’s been trying to get in touch with Edgar but he won’t return their calls. I can’t blame him, I suppose, but he’s the only relative I’ve got now and that leaves me in a bit of a hole.’ He rubbed his hands nervously down his thighs, the two wasted fingers on the right one pale as chalk, then started picking at the fabric of the chair arm with his good hand. ‘I’ve got the money to go somewhere private, and the sale of Mother’s house will bring in more though it’s all held up for now. But I can’t touch it, you see, I’ve been certified as a – a lunatic, and a trustee has to be appointed to deal with my money. Maybe you know, David, do I have to have a trustee? With your father being a lawyer, maybe you could ask?’

  ‘I’m sorry, my dad’s in New Zealand. He emigrated years ago—’

  ‘Yes. Of course, you told me in a letter.’ Frank hesitated, then said in a rush, ‘They’re bringing in a law to sterilize some lunatics, did you know that? And they give people electric shocks here, and there are worse things, brain operations. I want to get out of here. If I could get to some private institution somewhere, it might be better. I might be safer.’

  ‘Safer?’

  ‘I mean, somewhere they’d leave me to be quiet. Give me a room on my own and just leave me. I wouldn’t do anything like – what I did – again.’

  ‘I’ll see what can be done.’

  ‘I’m so tired, David,’ Frank said suddenly.

  ‘I can see that, old chap.’ David smiled kindly while Frank collected himself.

  ‘University seems like a hundred years ago now. I was grateful to you, you know, the way you used to take me out with your friends. I know I was strange, it must’ve been embarrassing sometimes.’

  The brutal honesty was unexpected. David didn’t know what to say. Frank shook his head. ‘I used to enjoy our talks, about politics and things. It’s a different world now, everything seems to be getting worse, all the violence everywhere. Here, in Europe, the war in Russia. We never thought it would get as bad as this, did we?’