‘This is Carla,’ Anna said. ‘Carla, this is Scott’s brother.’
I thought at first that Carla might be deaf. She seemed to have found something the reading of which couldn’t be postponed in her magazine. Maybe it was the Armageddon Weekly. She reluctantly put her glossy aside and stood up slowly and only then decided to look at me. She offered me a handful of dead fish.
‘I’ve heard of you,’ she said.
It was precisely what a schoolmistress had said to me when I entered her fourth-year class for the first time. The schoolmistress had meant that my reputation had gone before me, like an air-raid warning. The schoolmistress had meant that all her anti-aircraft guns were primed and in place and that I would be shot down at the first sign of any action that threatened the established order of things.
‘Does that mean you have to believe it?’ I said.
‘It came from a reliable source,’ Carla said.
Then she turned to Anna and became with that simple gesture a disciple of Bishop Berkeley. The fact that she couldn’t see me meant that I did not exist. She smiled reassuringly and put her hand on Anna’s shoulder.
‘Are you all right?’ she said.
‘I’m fine,’ Anna said.
‘You sure?’
‘Of course. I’m all right.’
I thought I might have to wire my jaw to keep it shut. What was I supposed to have done? Molested her in the hallway? All this solicitousness was because Anna’s brother-in-law was visiting her. Perhaps I should check myself in the mirror the first chance I got. I couldn’t remember fangs or a Phantom of the Opera mask.
‘As long as you’re sure,’ Carla said. ‘I’ll make us all some coffee. All right?’
‘All right.’
‘You don’t need to put mine in a cup,’ I said. ‘You could just throw it about me. Maintain the sense of welcome.’
Carla smiled compassionately at Anna. Anna smiled back. The smiles were a tacit conversation that said ‘I can see what you meant’ and ‘Didn’t I tell you?’
‘Thanks, Carla,’ Anna said. ‘You know where the biscuits are.’
Carla went out. Anna sat down.
‘You want to sit down?’ she said to me.
‘Thanks,’ I said. ‘Anna. I’ve been wanting to talk to you about Scott.’
‘Let’s wait till Carla comes back,’ she said.
‘Anna. What is this? My brother’s dead. I’d like to talk about him. Who needs third-party insurance? It’s a conversation I want. Not a lawyer’s meeting. We both loved the same person at one time. That’s our connection. What can be the harm in that?’
‘Let’s just wait, please.’
She was studying the ornate fireplace as if it was an Open University programme. She made no immediate further attempt to talk. Neither did I. If they had special house rules here, let’s wait and find out what they were. As I sat, I confirmed what had occurred to me when I saw Carla in the sitting-room. Anna had decided to be in when I came so that she could meet me in a controlled environment. Carla was the thermostat. Whatever Anna thought of me, she knew I was persistent. To avoid me now was to have to confront me later, perhaps when she wasn’t prepared for it. It was better that she choose the terrain and get it over with.
The terrain was impressive enough. It was a beautiful airy room with a marvellous view that took in, in the distance, the Forth. All that stunning Edinburgh light poured into the place and made it as bright and sharp and self-delighted as a Hockney painting. The real leather furniture showed off its sheen in the glow. A reproduction mahogany desk against a wall, its green leather surface unmarred by any papers, achieved a cool definition. The three abstract paintings distilled the roofs and the shapes and colours outside and stuck them on the white walls. But there was something out of place. I decided it was Anna. The room had been here like this before she was. It fitted her the way a jock-strap would.
While we were awaiting the coming of Carla the Protector the phone rang. I started slightly and looked at Anna. Her eyes registered and erased, swift as a well programmed computer. At the fourth ring, I spoke.
‘I think the phone’s ringing,’ I said.
‘Let it ring,’ she said.
We did. It gave up at twelve. This was an interesting house. People spoke to each other as if you weren’t there and let phones ring twelve times, as if that’s what they were meant to do. What would happen next? Carla came in.
She was carrying a large silver tray with a stylish coffee pot on it, three coffee-cups and saucers, crystal milk and sugar dishes and a willow-pattern plate with small biscuits. She gave no indication that the phone shouldn’t have rung twelve times without anybody answering. She smiled at Anna. Anna smiled at Carla.
A small, complicated ceremony began. I’ll give this saucer to you. You give it to him. I’ll give this saucer to you. You keep it. I’ll leave this saucer here. I’ll keep it for me. I’ll fill out this cup of coffee, you pass it to him. Here is the milk. You pass it to him. I’ll take it back. He takes sugar? Does he? You pass it to him. It went on. I’ve had five-course meals that were served with a lot less fuss. When we were finally settled with our cups which, given the trouble it took to get them, might have been filled with the gold of the Incas, I spoke again. I had already refused a biscuit.
‘Do you mind if I smoke?’ I said.
‘Actually, we do,’ Carla said. ‘This is a smoke-free zone. We’d like to keep it that way. There are children who live here.’
‘Do you mind if we talk?’ I said. ‘Is that all right, Anna? I mean, do we have a quorum now?’
‘What is it you want?’ Anna said.
‘Just to talk about Scott. I can’t get used to it. I don’t understand what happened at the end. I just want to make sense of what happened.’
‘I tried that for years. It doesn’t work.’
‘But you must be able to tell me something, Anna.’
‘Why would I want to do that?’
‘Remember me, Anna?’ I said. ‘I was the best man. Come on. I’m not trying to pry into your marriage. I know that’s your business. But what was it that was troubling Scott so much at the end?’
‘I wouldn’t know.’
‘Anna.’
‘We were in different worlds.’
‘There’s nothing you can tell me?’
‘Nothing.’
We sat and said nothing. It had been a long way to travel to exchange silences. Carla was holding a biscuit which seemed to be as full of detail as an Elizabethan miniature. In a place as cold as that all you can do is try to light a fire with whatever comes to hand.
‘Hell,’ I said. ‘I don’t believe this.’
But the silence outvoted me two to one.
‘Okay,’ I said. ‘Let’s not actually have a conversation. But do you mind if I ask you some questions? All you have to do is answer. Monosyllables welcome. All right?’
She didn’t answer.
‘Do you know who the man in the green coat is?’
Anna glanced at Carla in elaborate amazement.
‘Shall we take your pulse?’ Carla said.
‘The man in the green coat,’ I said.
‘What’s this supposed to mean?’ Anna said.
‘Have you heard of him?’
‘I’ve never heard of him.’
‘Are you sure? He seems to have meant an awful lot to Scott. He wrote things down about him. He must have mentioned him to you sometime.’
‘I’ve never heard of him.’
Who had? Maybe Sanny Wilson had been drunk. No. Ellie Mabon had heard of him, too. But I was beginning to feel like someone trying to fill in a census-form for the invisible man. Not known at this address. The rest of my questionnaire didn’t yield much more in the way of significant answers. It was full of dismissive strokes where the words should have been. Not applicable, not applicable.
Fast Frankie White?
Unknown.
Sandy Blake?
Unknown.
Dave Lyons?
Known but hardly.
David Ewart?
Known at one time but not now.
Why sell the house?
To get away.