Last Child

by Terry Tyler

  “I won’t make any jokes about him thinking his ship’s come in, then.”

  “No. Please don’t. I bet he only wants one so he can sail away from her forever.”

  “Erin. Seriously. I think it’s time for that vote of no confidence. I’ve had to get rid of members of staff who were doing a decent job, and if she’s running the place into the ground—”

  “I know, I know. Yes, you’re right. I wouldn’t be a worthy successor to her if I didn’t accept that the time has come. I’m going to call a meeting next week.”

  That was the last week in August. The meeting was called, and the agreement made that the time to remove Isabella from her position as managing director and chairman of the company had come. In the end, however, it hardly mattered, because during the first weekend of September Isabella finally tipped herself over the edge.

  It was very messy indeed.

  I went round to Erin’s flat, after the storm had passed.

  She phoned me late on Sunday afternoon; I was sorting out the garage at the time, because I was bored.

  “I needed the drive back here to think, alone,” she said, as I walked back into the kitchen to get a better signal, “but I could really do with some company right now, if Amy doesn’t mind. Sorry, I know it’s Sunday, and all that.”

  Amy was doing the ironing with pursed lips as I walked in; she has a sixth sense where me talking to Erin is concerned.

  Erin needed me, so I went, even though Amy did mind, very much indeed.

  She sulked, I tried to pacify her, she pouted, and so I ignored her and picked up keys, jacket and cigarettes.

  “Hasn’t she got her own man she can talk to?” she grumbled, as I was leaving. “No, I don’t suppose she has, because she’s not the marrying type, is she? So what does she do? She rings up mine, instead! Go on, then, go to your ex-girlfriend, but don’t expect me to be waiting up for you when you get back.”

  Slam! Boy, did I ever regret using that phrase. The one she said in italics, I mean. I expect it will haunt me for the rest of our married life.

  So I drove over to the city, and found my darling very upset, but calm.

  We sat on the floor, for some reason, with our backs against the sofa. The floors in the apartment are varnished, scattered with wonderfully soft sheepskin rugs. She was drinking wine; I poured myself one, too.

  “It was awful,” she said. “Frightening.”

  “What happened?”

  She looked up at me with her beautiful big, green eyes. “I felt so sorry for her. And so useless and guilty, apart from anything else—surely I could have done something to stop her getting to that stage?”

  “What stage?” I took her hand. “Come on, sweetheart, tell me.”

  She drank half the glass of wine in one go. “I’d been there since Friday night; I went out this lunchtime because Jane had just come round to do her shift, as we’ve started to call it. Izzy finds the weekends the hardest to cope with, you see; she thinks everyone else in the world is at home with their loved ones. Anyway, I had to get out for a bit, she was driving me nuts analysing everything he’s ever said to her, inventing conspiracies between people, all the usual stuff. So I went out for lunch with Tim and Eddie, but then Jane called me and said she thought I ought to get back.” She bit her thumbnail. “Izzy was sitting on the floor in her bedroom, rocking backwards and forwards, just weeping and wailing and shouting out his name. Like, ‘Phil, Phil, come back, God, make him come back’, as if she was in complete despair. Crazy despair. She was drinking, too. When I approached her she hit out at me, shouting something about me trying to take him away from her, or knowing where he is but hiding it from her, or something, I don’t know, it was all mixed up. But it was when I took hold of her wrists that I saw it—she’d been, you know, hurting herself. I pushed her sleeves up, and there were fresh cuts on her forearms, and scars from old ones. Oh, Robert. How can we not have known? How come Phil hasn’t seen? Maybe she always wears long sleeves to hide it, I haven’t noticed, but he must have.”

  Whatever my feelings about Isabella, I was truly sad for her when I heard that. How terrible, to be in such mental torment that you’d do that to yourself. I took Erin’s hand and squeezed it. “You’re right, he must have seen. And not said anything, the fucking useless arsehole.”

  “Yeah, it’s bloody awful, isn’t it? Anyway, I tried to give her a big hug and make her talk to me but she wasn’t having any, then Jane came in, and Izzy screamed at her to keep me away, started going on about me not being her sister but the child of some rock musician that Mum used to know—”

  “That’s rubbish, you look so like Harry in the face, and you’re like him in personality, too, everyone says so—”

  “I know, I know. But she’s so paranoid about me taking her company away from her that I guess her twisted head has just made it up.”

  “Did Jane manage to calm her down?”

  “Yes. I went downstairs for ten minutes, then I crept back up and peeped round the door; she was lying on the bed with her head in Jane’s lap, crying, and Jane mouthed at me to get on the phone to Doctor Holloway.”

  “Which is what you did, right?”

  “Uh-huh. I told him everything, about the self-harm, too, and he came straight round and gave her enough sedative to knock her out until tomorrow morning, which is when she’s going to be admitted to St James’s Hospital. It’s one of the best, apparently. We hope. Then bloody Cathy will just have to come and see her, sign any committal papers if Izzy kicks up, and understand that she needs something a bit more effective than prayer.”

  “And in the meantime?”

  “You mean work? In the meantime, we’ll have the vote, and I’ll get her to sign whatever’s needed to put me in charge, before that wretched husband of hers gets back and persuades her to hand it all over to him.”

  “Hang on – if she’s going to be sectioned, she’ll officially be ‘not of sound mind’, won’t she? So will her signature mean anything?”

  Erin slapped her forehead with the palm of her hand. “Good thinking, Batman. Shit. Oh – but there’s something in Dad’s will, isn’t there? About Izzy taking over from Jaz if he wasn’t capable of running the place, and me doing the same with Iz. I’ll give Cecilia a ring now.”

  She went off into the bedroom and did so; while she was away I decided to ring Amy to calm the waters. She didn’t answer. Oh well, I tried.

  Erin came back, phone clutched in hand, mouth looking determined. “Yes, it’s all okay. Cess is going to dig out all the relevant paperwork. So as from now—”

  “You’re the boss.”

  “You got it. Well, acting boss, anyway, until we’ve had the official vote.”

  “Are you up to it?”

  “I’ve got to be, haven’t I? And I will be, too.” She took hold of my hand. “I’ll be letting Dad down if I don’t do a good job, won’t I? And Jaz, too.”

  I put my arm around her shoulders and held her to me, stroking her lovely hair. “Are you scared?” I asked.

  She curled her arm around my waist. It felt wonderful. “No. Is that weird? I expected to be, but I’m not.” She pulled away from me and smiled, a little sadly. “I feel relieved; at last I can get everything back to how it was before she fucked it all up. And I want to do it, I’m looking forward to it—I’ve been working towards this day, and I knew I’d get my shot at it, somewhere along the line; I just wish it hadn’t happened this way.”

  “I know, it’s horrendous. I hate to say this, but imagine if she had got pregnant. She would have just stayed at home being a mum, and then we’d have Phil Castillo running the show,” I said. “Nasty!”

  “I couldn’t have stood that. It’s my dad’s company. It should be run by a Lanchester.”

  “He would have been so proud of you.”

  “He is proud of me,” she said. “I can feel him looking down on me, does that sound stupid? And Jaz, and my mum.”

  She had to believe that, I think, because she was s
o alone. Had to believe that her family were all there, somewhere, with her. We talked for two hours and I drank enough wine to be over the limit. Erin said I ought to eat something and wait a while before I drove, so she made me burnt cheese on toast and two cups of coffee, by which time it was gone eleven.

  “I could just stay the night. That way, you’d have some company when you need it most, plus I can carry on drinking wine with you. Which I would like. Plus I won’t endanger other road users,” I said, and smiled my most charming smile. “It’s a win-win. In fact, it’s a win-win-win.”

  “It’s also bang out of order for a married man to stay the night in the flat of an ex, even if he is sleeping in the spare room.” She picked my keys up off the table and dangled them at me. “Go on, get yourself home. I’m fine.”

  Driving home, I thought once more how cock-eyed it was, that I was leaving the woman I loved to return to the one I didn’t.

  Yet again, I wondered what would happen if I left Amy. Erin didn’t just see me as a friend. I knew she didn’t. It was in her eyes when she saw me, in her voice when she answered the phone to me, in her touch in those brief moments when I was allowed to hold her.

  I put a Led Zeppelin CD on and drove the long way home. You know, the one where you miss the turning for your village accidentally on purpose and carry on going.

  My wife was still awake when I finally got back to Robsart Lodge, which is how I think of it these days. It was bought with Robsart money, and I’d wager the title deeds being in my name would be of little consequence were I to leave Amy.

  She was sitting up in bed, in the childish shorts and t-shirt she wears when she doesn’t want me to do sex to her (they’re patterned with hearts and sleeping teddies), with a book on her knees and a glower on her face. I’d stopped on the way up to the bedroom to pour myself a super large Scotch and dry, from which I now drank lustily.

  I was in no mood for her silliness.

  “Before you start,” I said, “Erin’s sister, and my boss, has just had an emotional meltdown and will be admitted into psychiatric care tomorrow. Erin doesn’t have a family support system like you; her father, mother and brother are all dead—can you imagine that, even for one minute?—and I am one of her oldest friends. I consider it normal for her to have called on me in her hour of need, and if you have anything to say apart from genuine concern about how she is, I don’t want to hear it.”

  For one moment I thought how different things might have been if she was an adult instead of a little girl; she might have come with me, and given Erin support, too. Then, I might have loved her again. But she wasn’t that person.

  She just stared at me, speechless. I undressed, cleaned my teeth, took a piss and got into bed, with my whisky. She said nothing. She just turned off her bedside lamp, lay down and turned over so she had her back to me. So, bad books but no earache. Not too bad, considering.

  Hannah and Jane went with Isabella to the doctor the next day, and on to the clinic to help her settle in, if that was what it was called when someone was being forcibly incarcerated in a psychiatric clinic. Meanwhile, Jane Dormer notified everyone who was anyone that there would be a meeting at HQ on Friday, to announce initial changes.

  “I’m okay,” Erin told me on the phone, “I’ve just got a hell of a lot to do between now and Friday. I’ll call you if I need you for anything, okay?” Which was shorthand for ‘don’t phone me every half hour to ask how I am’. I contented myself with the knowledge that I would see her at the end of the week.

  I could wait.

  Amy hovered as I got ready to leave for the meeting on Friday.

  “So this is it, from today she’s taking over, full time, at HQ? Forever?”

  “Yes—acting on Isabella’s behalf at the moment, and then she’ll take it from there.” I couldn’t be bothered to explain about the vote of no confidence; it’d probably go in one ear and out of the other, anyway.

  “And she won’t be in Norfolk at all, anymore?” She came over to me and straightened my tie, like a real proper grown-up wife. I expect she’d seen someone do it on telly. I forced myself not to be irritated.

  “Well, sometimes, obviously, but she’ll be based at HQ, yes.”

  She waved me off, all smiles. Three hours later I listened to Erin explain to a roomful of people that Isabella was seriously but not life-threateningly ill, and would not resume control of Lanchester Estates at any time in the near future. In the meantime she was expected to step down, but if she was unable to reach such a decision the directors would take the necessary steps to relieve her of the pressure of management. Don’t you just love it when people say stuff like that? Everyone knew exactly what she meant without her saying ‘She’s finally lost it, and if she won’t go of her own accord we’ll make her’. I only just managed not to applaud her. She then went on to outline various changes that would be made, including the scrapping of all current redundancy operations; that one got a standing ovation.

  I was surprised to see Phil Castillo slip in at the last minute, after Erin’s speech had already begun. I imagine Jane had got in touch with him; he collared me when we broke for lunch.

  “How goes it, Rob?” he said, dead chummy, like.

  “You’re back, then,” I said, pointlessly.

  “All present and correct, yes!”

  “Goodo.”

  He moved closer to me and looked around, a tad furtively. “I went to see her, you know. Isabella. I got back, dumped my stuff and went straight to the clinic.” He made a mock wipe of his brow. “Whew! I was—well, I was shocked. I didn’t recognise the girl I met in Spain two years ago at all. I suppose that’s what happens to some women when they can’t get pregnant, I don’t know.”

  I nearly thumped him. Isabella was not even in my top one hundred favourite people, and I reckon she was borderline barking before she had the misfortune to meet this toe-rag, but for fuck’s sake, he was her husband, and he was supposed to care about her, wasn’t he?

  Oh, and the irony of my annoyance about another’s husbandly shortcomings is not lost on me, in case you’re wondering.

  “What do you plan to do?” I asked, sounding as arsey as I could.

  He shrugged his shoulders. “Move back to the cottage. I suppose Erin will be at the big house, won’t she?” He laughed. “Much though I’d like to see her over the breakfast table every morning, I don’t think it’d be quite the done thing. Then I’ll come back to work. I do actually have a job, if I remember rightly!”

  “I meant, what do you plan to do as far as Isabella is concerned?” I said. “You remember, your wife. The one you married just over a year ago.”

  He actually patted me on the shoulder, all matey, as if we were buddies and I was likely to be in sympathy with his situation. “I dunno, mate, I dunno. I mean, mental illness, it’s not really my thing. I don’t know that I’m really, you know, equipped to deal with it. It’s probably best if I don’t go to see her again, I’m sure the doctors will agree that it’ll only make things worse. Best I leave it to the professionals.”

  Happily for the feckless Philip, the doctors did indeed agree that unless he was up to the job of giving her committed support it was best that he didn’t visit her for the time being. Later that lunchtime Erin managed a few moments with me.

  “After he left she kept calling for him, and when he didn’t come back she thought they were keeping him from her. She punched a nursing assistant in the face when she tried to calm her down. They had to do that safe patient restraint stuff on her.” She looked up at me, and I could tell she was only just holding it together. “Robert, she’s on suicide watch. Isabella. My sister. I can’t believe it’s come to this.”

  “And her mother?”

  “She’s staying at Hannah’s, so she can go to the hospital every day.”

  “That’s good.”

  “Yeah.” She linked her arm through mine. “They’re assessing whether she’s just depressed, or schizophrenic, or psychotic, or whatever. It’s awfu
l, I feel so helpless.”

  I squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry, darling. Is there anything I can do?”

  She smiled up at me and I wished I could hold her and take care of her. “Oh, don’t worry about me,” she said. “I’ve lived with her tantrums most of my life. It’s just so sad, and I wish I could make it better. It’s Cathy I feel sorry for; it’s not as bad for a sister as it must be for a mother.”

  However long all this had been building up, when the diagnosis claimed she was suffering from psychosis and schizophrenia everyone was shocked. Not just a bit neurotic and depressed, then, after all. Reggie Pole sent a memo round to say that Mrs Castillo was severely unwell, under medical supervision, and that any communication within the office likely to cause distress to the family would be regarded as gross misconduct. Subtext: quit with the mad axe-woman jokes or you’ll get the sack.

  So the paperwork to put Erin in full control of Lanchester Estates was approved, and Cathy, having been given the power to act for Isabella on all financial matters, agreed to sell forty of her daughter’s eighty percent shares to Erin, making her the majority shareholder. She also confirmed that Isabella would not sell or allow anyone else to live in Lanchester Hall without Erin’s consent, and that Erin could live there, if she so desired, for the rest of her life.

  I wondered if Isabella just didn’t care about any of it now, anyway; I gather Cathy met with no resistance when she told her what she was doing.

  She was likely to be kept in the hospital for some time, to be released into Cathy’s care when and if she was no longer considered a risk to herself or anyone else.

  As I said, I was no fan of the woman, but I was very sobered by this, as were all those who had been close to her, at work or otherwise. Phil Castillo was currently on unpaid compassionate leave, and expected to return to work in October, when his position in the firm would be reviewed. Sorry, I mean Phil Castillo had fucked off back to Rotterdam for a couple of weeks rather than have half the workforce of Lanchester Estates pointing the finger at him, and he’d be lucky to get a job in the post room.