Familiar Rooms in Darkness (16 page)

The next morning, Bella lay in bed, reading despondently through the reviews of
Funeral Games
. No one gave it a complete pasting, but there was a distinct lack of enthusiasm.
She shouldn't be surprised. She had felt it all along. As an actor, you could feel in your very bones how well a thing was likely to go down. The critic in
The Times
had tried to like it, but such praise as he gave was lacklustre.

FARCE AND FURIOUS, ran the headline, alongside a small picture of Bella holding a cake-stand, and Bruce Redmond looking very hunky in jeans and a vest and wielding a meat cleaver.

This wildly absurd play, originally presented by Yorkshire Television in 1968, demonstrates the mad, circular logic of dementia that Joe Orton understood so well. The bewilderingly complex plot turns on a neat reversal of conventional morality, constituting an ironic comment on the narrative tradition in literature and presumptions of human rationality and spiritual integrity…

Bella sighed and skipped ahead.

Lance Welthorpe's direction is not without flaws, and one is left with residual doubt as to whether the play, unlike
Loot
or
What the Butler Saw
, is sturdy enough to hold its own… Although the script is at fault for failing to invest the part of Tessa with the appetite and earthiness of most of Orton's female characters, Bella Day's reading of the part is too demure. She fails to convey the hint of matronly menace which the late Vivien Merchant always evoked so well and doubtless brought to the original production…

Bella's eye skimmed through the rest of the review, which ended:

Orton's is an impossible world, but one that is painfully close to our own. The patterns are self-destructive, wholly unrelated to any concept of reality or truth. Tellingly, when Tessa announces that ‘Truth must win. Otherwise life is impossible,' this is simply a prelude to the blatant lie with which the play ends.

Bella puzzled briefly over this last statement, uncertain whether it was intended to be critical or not. She gave up. On the floor by her bed lay the fax message which Adam had sent the day before. She hadn't seen it till she got in late last night. She reached down, picked it up, and read it through again.
Best wishes
. Well, what did she expect? Presumably Adam, like everyone else on the planet, imagined she had a thing going with Bruce. If only he knew… She lay back, thinking about the evening he'd come to her flat, the wine, the talk, the growing sense of understanding between them. And that kiss. Wow. She closed her eyes, letting a little pang of longing subside. She should be realistic about this. He was with someone else. What was he, after all? What did she think she wanted from him? She hadn't a clue. She only knew that she badly wanted to see him. And since Adam had kindly offered to help her get in touch with her original family, she had the perfect excuse to ring him.

She unfolded the fax message, picked up the phone, and punched in his number. Adam, working at his desk, answered almost straightaway.

‘Hello, it's me – Bella.'

‘Oh, hi… How did last night go?'

‘So so. I've just been reading the reviews.
The Times
seems to think I'm not womanly enough.'

‘Really?' murmured Adam.

‘For the part of Tessa. They seem to think someone with rough elbows and a matronly bosom might be more the thing. More Ortonesque.'

‘I see. Well, I think you're quite perfect. Whatever. Elbows, anything.'

There was a pause. Bella smiled and rolled over on to her back. ‘I thought you might have called before now.'

‘I thought you and Charlie needed some space, you know… to sort things out between you. How is he?'

‘A mess, frankly. He's been away on a big case, so we haven't seen one another since – well, since that evening you were here. But I spoke to him this afternoon, and it's affected him pretty badly. I've told him I think the best thing is to follow up the address Mother gave me.'

‘I see.'

‘Did you mean it when you said you would help, if you could?'

‘Of course I did.'

‘It's just that Charlie's not in any state to face up to things at the moment, and I'm not sure I can do this on my own…'

‘I can do it for you, if you want. Report back.'

Bella thought for a long moment. ‘No. I want to go, but I'd like it if you'd come with me. I want to see – I want to know… Even if they left there long ago, I still want to see where they lived. Isn't that stupid, wanting to see a house? I mean, what difference can it make, seeing a house? So stupid…'

‘It's not stupid. It's not stupid at all. When do you want to go?'

‘I don't know… Maybe this weekend?'

‘There's more chance that someone might be around,' Adam agreed. ‘How about Saturday?'

‘Fine.' Fear at the prospect made her voice tentative.

‘What time do you want me to pick you up?'

‘No, please, let's take my car. You've done enough for me already.'

‘I've done nothing. Quite the opposite, some might say.'

‘Well, anyway… I'll come round at ten.'

Adam put the phone down and sat there for a long while, doing nothing. Then he realized he was already missing the sound of her voice.

Bella arrived punctually on Saturday, wearing a pale lemon crop-top and skin-tight white jeans.

‘You've had your hair cut,' observed Adam, as he let her in.

She ruffled her skimpy blonde locks with one hand, making the multitude of thin, silver bracelets on her arm tinkle. ‘It was getting too long for hot weather.' She gave him a doubtful glance. ‘Don't you like it?'

He smiled. ‘Yes, I like it. Come in for a moment while I get my things.' Adam disappeared into the bedroom to fetch his jacket.

Bella wandered through to the kitchen. There was Megan, splashing water over crockery in the sink.

‘Hello,' said Megan, surprised to see Bella. Adam had said he was going out for a few hours, that it was to do with the Harry Day biography, but he hadn't mentioned
anything about Bella. She looked fantastic in that top. Megan wished she could wear something like that without a bra.

‘Hi,' said Bella.

‘Right,' said Adam, appearing in the doorway. ‘Let's get going.'

‘What time will you be back, darling?' Megan asked.

‘No idea. Two or three hours, perhaps. You get going and do whatever…'

‘I'll do some shopping. We seem to be running short of a few things.'

He was too far away from Megan for her to kiss him fondly on the cheek, but Bella suspected she would have done, if she could. Proprietorial gestures. She liked that. She liked a bit of a challenge.

‘Bye,' she said to Megan.

Megan gave her a cool smile. ‘Bye.'

‘Next time,' said Bella, as they went downstairs to her car, ‘you really must introduce us.'

Adam was startled. ‘God, I'm sorry. Didn't you meet at the wedding?'

‘Don't worry. Each of us knows who the other is.'

‘So, how have you been lately?' asked Adam conversationally, as they walked to the car. ‘I saw a picture of you in the paper last week at that film premiere.'

‘Mmm. I went with Bruce.'

Adam nodded. ‘Right.'

Adam assumed the tone of his voice as he spoke this one word to be entirely neutral, but Bella picked it up instantly. He cared. He was jealous. She could tell. It was unmistakable. Perfect.

She smiled disingenuously at Adam. ‘Bruce is such an amazing man. I'm very lucky.'

Adam said nothing.

Bella unlocked the car, and they got in. ‘God, five minutes and it's already blistering in here. I'll turn on the air conditioning.'

She ran the fan for a few minutes until the car had cooled, and they set off.

Adam allowed a few moments for his resentment of Bruce Redmond to dissipate, then glanced at Bella's profile. She looked inscrutable behind her sunglasses. His mind shifted to the purpose of their journey.

‘Are you scared?'

‘Terrified.' She grimaced. ‘I've got a thousand and one possible scenarios in my head, and each time I play one of them through, I haven't a clue what I might say or do, really.'

‘Don't worry.'

‘Fish the
A–Z
out of the side pocket and tell me where I'm meant to be going,' said Bella.

‘How's the biography coming along?' she asked, as they headed towards Battersea Bridge.

‘Fine. Though I'm concerned that the business about the adoption should be handled the right way. I don't want to upset your family.' He glanced at her. ‘How will you feel about that coming out?'

‘I don't know. I don't suppose it will matter. Cecile's the one you should worry about, if anyone. Charlie and I just have to come to terms with it.'

‘The rest of it should be coming together, but it all takes much longer than I expected. I've spoken to one or
two new people over the past few weeks, the ones I met that night at your stepmother's. Everyone comes up with another couple of names of people I should talk to. It's a sort of self-generating process. For instance, Joyce Cole, your father's old editor at Barrie and Jenkins when he first published
Pale Journey
, was very insistent that I should get in touch with someone called Richard Compton-King. Do you know the name?'

‘Nope. Who is he?'

‘According to Joyce Cole, he was quite close to Harry during the sixties.'

‘Are you going to speak to him?'

‘If I can track him down. He's in the music business. Old, but still a player, apparently.' He smiled at her. ‘I'll let you know what fascinating insights he has, if any.'

For the next forty minutes, Adam guided them through the dense Saturday-morning traffic of south-east London. Eventually they came to Deptford, and after five minutes they found Duffy Road. It was an unremarkable street of tatty terraced houses with a row of shops at one end – a newsagent, barber, kebab takeaway, and a dilapidated minimart. It was lined from end to end with parked cars. The rattle of Connex South East trains could be heard from the station two streets away.

‘What number?' asked Adam.

‘Forty-four,' said Bella. ‘God, I'm so nervous.
So
nervous…'

‘I know. Don't worry. Thirty-six, thirty-eight… It's this side. Look, park over there, outside the pub.'

Bella pulled up. The Southbrook.
Beers, spirits, fine
wines. Family beer garden. Sky sports, big screen, all top sporting events
.

Adam twisted round in his seat and looked back up the road. ‘It's the one with the yellow door. There's a sort of alley next to it.'

Bella stared straight ahead of her, hands clasped in her lap. ‘I'm shaking. This is pathetic.'

Adam looked at her. ‘Why don't you wait here? I'll go.'

She took off her sunglasses, nodded. ‘I don't think I can move.'

When Adam had set off she got out of the car and stood leaning against it, staring at the house with the yellow door. There was the house where she might have spent her childhood. Where she was probably conceived. Where lives had been lived that had not included hers. Should have. Still no feeling came. No sentiment. She found herself thinking disloyally of the house where she and Charlie had grown up, the two-acre garden, and of Montresor, holidays with her father.

Adam walked along the pavement. He stood outside number forty-four for a few seconds, then took a few paces to the side of the house and glanced up the alleyway between it and the house next door. A painted board leaning against the brickwork read ‘Crash repairs. Free estimates.' Adam walked slowly up the alleyway and round to the back of the house, into a large yard with three cars parked in it. He looked up at the silent windows at the rear of the house.

‘Can I help you, mate?'

The voice startled him, and he swung round to see a figure squirming its way out, face-up, from beneath one
of the cars, spanner in hand. A lanky, dark-haired youth, wearing oil-stained overalls, got up. He wiped his hands and came over to Adam.

‘I'm looking for a family called Kinley,' said Adam. ‘Mr and Mrs Kinley. Do they still live here?'

The boy looked uncertain. ‘You mean Derek and his mum?'

‘Is their name Kinley?'

The youth nodded. Only at that moment did Adam become aware of the incredible tension which had gathered in him. He felt a dizzy mixture of elation and relief – and had no idea what to do or say next.

He nodded. ‘Right. Thank you.' He turned and walked back down the alleyway. The youth stood looking after him. Then after a few seconds he went to the back door and called inside.

Adam went back to the car. Bella was leaning against the door. Her eyes looked enormous, tragic, as she stared at him, trying to prepare herself. All he had to do was nod, and watch her expression, the anxiety disintegrating into wild and astonished disbelief.

‘God, they're still there?' She clasped her hands to her mouth.

‘There was a boy working on a car out the back. I don't think he's anything to do with you, but he confirmed that there's a Kinley family living at forty-four. He mentioned someone called Derek, and his mother.'

Bella clutched tightly at his sleeve. ‘Adam, that must be my brother. My brother, and my mother… Oh God, oh God…' She leaned against Adam for a brief moment.

‘What do you want to do?'

‘I don't know. Do you think they're there?'

‘No idea. Do you want me to wait here?'

Bella shook her head. ‘I'm so scared. Would you come with me?'

‘Of course.'

As they approached the house, a figure appeared at the end of the alleyway, a tall, muscular man, middle-aged, with scant blond hair, close-cropped. ‘You the fella that was asking about me a minute ago?' He had a heavy south-London accent.