‘That’s what was suggested.’ 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.’