Glass (20 page)

‘What could Max possibly have sent you that's of interest? You never do anything except sleep and get pissed.'

‘The bloody cheek!'

Furious, he took a swing at me. He had grown old, but I had grown fat, so I couldn't avoid the blow, but it didn't hurt, either. His bony fist was simply quilted by my face.

‘There's more where that came from. Bloody nerve.'

Then he picked up the dregs of the bottle of whisky and his phone and stumbled out.

The front doors slammed and the Steppenwolf awoke from his reverie.

‘I have reached a logical cul-de-sac.'

I was standing, holding my cheek, my whisky glass knocked to the floor. My dad had never hit me, not even when I was a child.

‘Where is your father?' he asked.

‘Gone.'

‘Where?'

‘I don't know.'

‘And you are not accompanying him?'

I thought about this. ‘No …' I said eventually. ‘I think I'm going to stay here.'

We sat down side by side, and I picked up my laptop. I thought I might check whether Blades had uploaded any of the day's footage. I typed in ‘Northwoods'. First result was Northwoods Property. Just below it was a Wikipedia article:
Operation Northwoods
. The preview contained the words ‘false flag'. Oh dear. I clicked.

It was a declassified CIA plan from 1962, to hijack planes, crash them into a US landmark and blame it on Cuba, so that they could start a war on the basis of a credible threat. Luckily, JFK told them they were nuts, and vetoed the plans, and everything was fine again. Not for him, obviously.

‘You look worried,' said the Steppenwolf.

‘Yes … I think my boss might be trying to blow up the Shard.'

The Steppenwolf bared his yellow teeth, and shook his head sadly.

‘To build an edifice is human: it is difficult, it takes thought and care. To tear it down again is easy: childish, godlike. The power will always be in the hands of those who refuse to create, those who scatter us across the earth.'
⁷⁰

I was used to the Steppenwolf shouting. What I did not like was the eerie calm that had descended on him now. It was a kind of beatific resignation.

‘Do you want to come with me tomorrow? Help stop him?'

But he just shook his head. ‘It has been too long.'

‘You'll have to go outside some time. You know that.'

‘No.'

‘Maybe I can find someone who you can talk to about your agoraphobia. Figure out how things got like this? I think it would be good for you.'

The Steppenwolf put his hand lightly on my shoulder. ‘Günter. It is thoughtful. I know some people like to draw from their wells very often and keep the water fresh. But I prefer to throw in rubble. I am hoping that, if I wait long enough, I may strike oil.'

Dad trudged in penitently later that night, and we apologised to each other. ‘Do you want the good news first, or the bad news?' he asked.

‘Bad first,' I said. Better to sugar a pill than ruin a perfectly good sweet.

‘Well, the bailiffs have already sold some of our things, your mum's included.' I put my hand on his shoulder and led him over to the sofa. ‘Max went down to sort things out with them and it seems they've been a bit overeager.'

‘Right. Dare I ask what the good news is? Let me guess. Max happened to be going to the foreclosure auction anyway?'

‘Well, there were certain things they couldn't sell, and in among your stamps and keyrings and all that useless junk were our life insurance certificates.'

‘I didn't know I had life insurance.'

‘Neither did I. It seems that your mother must have set them up for us, God rest her soul. It's not a nice way to get hold of it, not a nice way at all, but it turns out we've come into a lot of money. We can hopefully get the house back eventually … and, uh …' He looked back at the door nervously. ‘Well, good news. So I'd probably better …'

‘Where are you going at this time of night?'

‘Max is waiting in the car. He was going to take me back to Salisbury. Didn't want me to tell you he was here.'

‘What? Max is outside? Oh, for goodness sake. Tell him to come in and stop being such a child.'

Dad looked down.

‘You are both my sons, Günter. Which, incidentally, means you are brothers. It wouldn't kill either of you to act like it every now and then. I'm not saying he can't be a bit of a nob sometimes, but let's be honest, so can you. You need to cut each other some slack, because one day I'm not going to be around and I don't want the two of you to end up communicating solely through the small claims court. Now,' he risked a sidelong glance at me. ‘If I bring him up, I don't want any squabbling. I will ask him not to act like a bloody lout, and I am asking you now not to be …' He tilted his head in lieu of a sensitive wording.

‘What?' I said. ‘What did I do?'

‘Just … Tone down that whole eco-warrior, know-it-all, lord-on-high thing you do.' He went down to get Max and I heard nothing at all while they argued. Then car doors, and two sets of footsteps. The Steppenwolf raised his eyebrows at me. I supposed this was probably a house-party, by his standards.

Dad and Max were installed on the sofa, and I sat on an empty crate.

Tea?
I signed (in the universal language: miming the act of tipping a cup all over my front). Max sighed.

I don't expect an apology
, he signed.

What for?
I asked.

For anything.

I haven't done anything,
I protested.

That's why I don't ever expect an apology. I think you honestly don't believe you've ever done anything wrong, ever. You know, puppies only remember their behaviour for about three seconds, so you can't punish them when you come home and find out they've shat all over the house. They won't make any link at all, they'll just get upset. That's basically you.

I looked at Dad, but he hadn't been keeping up.

I'm an incontinent puppy?
I signed.

See, even now you're getting upset. You're just not very good at taking criticism on board, and that's okay.
He gave me his Counsellor Max smile and held my hands. He might have meant it in a comforting way, but it felt more like he'd put his hand over my mouth. No response required. He broke away.

I took care of everything with the house. I looked through all the paperwork trying to find something that we might have missed and I found the life insurance certificates. They were difficult at first, asking why we didn't claim straight away, but I'm sorting it out, and I've made sure that no more of our stuff will be auctioned off until we can clear the debt and get things back to normal.

He held his hands palm out. This was his magician's punchline.

Okay,
I signed.
Glad that it's cleared up.
His eyes went wide.
What?
I asked.
Do you want a round of applause? What else am I supposed to say?

First he started trembling, then he jumped up and drummed on my chest with the blade of his fists as if he were a wind-blown traveller beating upon the door of a forbidding castle.

Just once in your whole life, I wish you would say, well done, you did the right thing. No, not that. That's not the problem. I wish that you would pay me your full attention. I can't just swan around meeting people everywhere I go, no one ever speaks sign so I have to vocalise and they look at me as if I'm diseased. There were three people in the whole world that I cared about, and now there are only two. One of them is always asleep, and the other one will only deign to look at me if I challenge him to a battle of wits, or if I tell him something interesting. Do you know how exhausting it is to have to try and be interesting all the time, just to hold your attention?

I didn't say anything for a little while. Mostly because I was surprised. It hadn't even occurred to me that our fights had had an emotional impact on Max.

Say you're sorry,
signed Max.
It will be good for you.

I lifted my hands.

Sorry,
I signed.

Good.

I am,
I signed.

Good.

Thank you for finding out what was going on. You are a good brother,
I signed.
I'm glad to have you as my family.

You wouldn't be saying that if Mum was still alive,
Max replied,
so don't start now.

I got up, nodded.
It's late.

I should go,
he signed, standing.

I didn't mean that. Stay,
I signed.
Please. We can talk more tomorrow.

I got Max a blanket for the sofa and said goodnight to the Steppenwolf, who had been regaling Dad with the colourful history of the urinal in the corner of the room.

As I undressed and brushed my teeth, I tried to picture what my life would be like if my mother had lived. Dad would be sober. I might never have visited the Cathedral. Perhaps I wouldn't have met Dean Winterbottom, Blades, or the Steppenwolf, or Lieve. I wouldn't be approaching fatherhood, or climbing the tallest building in the country. I would be a different person. Happier, perhaps. Or perhaps just different.

But the world had fallen together in this way, as it was bound to do, because the gradual unfolding of our selves over time was a condition of our existence. I had to be here, now. I had to go back to the Shard in just a few hours and look for ways to stop Blades, just as Blades had to do what he could to convince the world that foreigners were plotting against us. Lieve had to try and have her baby, just as I had to feel that she had broken my trust. But if Blades blew up the Shard tomorrow, with us on it, I'd never see her again. I looked at my watch. 10 p.m. I was due to be picked up at 6 a.m. If I cycled to Lieve's house I could still get a few hours' sleep. I siphoned off some of the GOMORRAH into a smaller spray bottle and slotted it into the sidekick holster, the escaped fumes as corrosive as a thousand onions. When I could see again, I picked up the grappling hook and the titanium scraper, which could serve as a blunt instrument if things got hairy. Tomorrow was going to be a big day.

19

Absent Without Lieve

I cycled as fast as I could to Lieve's house. My thighs felt like they were disintegrating with heat. I cycled and cycled for what seemed like an age, switching down gears until I didn't feel I was travelling any faster than if I had walked. It felt as though I was cycling uphill, though London was flat. Really, no more waffles. I'd have to find a healthier source of energy in the mornings. Cheese on toast or something.

I parked my bike and fumbled around in the dark with the chain lock, which rattled in protest. I was panting and clammy with sweat. More than clammy, in fact – I was sopping, my T-shirt several shades darker than when I had left. I stood by Lieve's door trying to catch my breath, hands on hips like a folk dancer, and heard the rustle of key in lock. Lieve appeared, towering over the threshold, wearing her silk gown. She didn't seem especially pleased to see me.

‘Did you predict my arrival?' I panted.

‘Go away,' she said.

‘No,' I replied.

‘What are you doing here?' she asked.

‘I was just locking my—'

‘At my house?'

‘I need to talk to you,' I said.

‘No, Günter, I can't have this. Do you even know what time it is? I need to sleep, and so does the baby.'

She made to close the door but I put my hand against the cool frosted glass. She was a powerful woman and could make sure it shut if she really wanted.

‘Please. Let me inside. It's cold out here and I'm all sweaty.'

‘You always know the right thing to say,' she sneered and backed off down the hallway.

I followed and she threw me a towel before clicking the kettle on.

‘I have something important to tell you.'

‘So important that you had to keep me up in the middle of the night?'

‘Yes.'

She glanced over, dropping her guard, poured out mint tea and came to sit with me.

‘What?' she asked.

‘I wanted to talk to you about the baby issue, tonight, in case … In case …'

‘I don't think this baby is an issue,' she said authoritatively.

‘Well they always say the first step is denial.'

She put her hand on my cheek and kissed me. ‘When you see its little face, you'll change your mind.'

‘I'm not saying I hate babies' faces. Of course it'll look loveable. And I think I might be a really good dad, one day. But I don't think I'm going to be a very good dad in eight months' time.'

‘Then you don't have to be involved.'

‘What kind of a person would I be if I didn't want to be involved?'

She hugged me tightly. ‘I knew you'd change your mind.'

‘No!' I said, wriggling free. ‘I haven't changed my mind. I still don't think it's a good idea for us to have a baby now. Why didn't you ask me?'

‘But you'll be there for it.'

‘If you decide to have this baby, I can't turn my back on it, because a child needs love and stability, but I'd rather we weren't having one right now, which doesn't mean I wouldn't love it. I'm not saying you can't be a single mother because there are lots of good single mothers but if you want the best for the kid then it's preferable for it to have a mum and a dad. It's not about just having a child to have one, it's about having a child that feels loved and grows up happy. What if it grows up miserable and weird because I'm such a bad father?'

I thought I'd come off sounding quite reasonable, but rather than appreciating the soundness of my argument, she started to cry.

‘You don't want to have a baby with me. You don't want me to be the mother of your child.'

‘I think you'd be a brilliant mother,' I cooed. ‘It's just the situation. I'm not ready.'

‘I thought you'd come round, if I just waited. I thought you might actually want to have a baby with me. Here I am in this big, dusty house; half the rooms I don't even use, and you're still sleeping on the floor in some horrid shag pad—'

‘It's really not a shag pad.'

‘—and I thought that you might eventually want to move in, maybe not now but soon, and we'd have a baby, and my life might be back on track again. But no, I'll just kill it then, shall I?'

‘Well, it's not alive yet but …' I let the end of the sentence trail along, like wind under a falling leaf. ‘I suppose it just worries me a little that this might not be about us. That I might just be interchangeable. You want a family, but not necessarily with me. I just happened to come along. Should we really have a baby together just because our meeting was neatly timed?'

She wiped a forearm across her face like a builder on a hot day and her cheek shined with smudged tears. Her mouth hung slightly open and I could see the tip of her tongue. Something stirred in my trousers and I silently chided myself for losing focus. We were having a proper talk. We never had a proper talk. It was very important that I did not think about sex. Lovely, lovely sex.

‘So you really believe that love is unique?' she asked me. ‘Doesn't it seem odd to you that, all through history, people have been fucking whoever is next to them, falling in love in tiny villages where they don't meet anyone new? People just see who's around them and pick. If two people get stuck on a desert island they still pair off. I mean, for fuck's sake, you stick a load of men in prison together, even they pair off. What were you waiting for? This is what happens, Günter. You don't know how you're going to find someone, and then someone comes along, and if you're sensible you make the best of it.'

I sat sullen.

‘Not very romantic,' I mumbled.

‘No, Günter, it's not. Maybe it's different for you with your big ideas but life isn't very romantic for me. To be perfectly honest it's pretty laughable, what I've had to put up with. Everyone starts off believing in fairytale love. And you get over it, too.'

I tried not to sulk. ‘Can I put my hand on your stomach?' I heard myself say.

‘What?'

‘Can I, um? Feel your stomach?'

‘Why?' she asked.

‘I don't know.'

She softened a little. ‘Fine.'

She undid her dressing gown. Her breasts had grown even bigger, and through her sturdy frame, I could see the beginnings of a swelling just above her pelvis. Perhaps I was imagining it. I reached out and tentatively put my fingers on her.

‘Cold hands,' she said.

‘Well, I've been cycling.'

‘You have poor circulation. You need to do more exercise.'

I didn't know why I was doing this. I knew I didn't want to have a baby, not any time soon. I suspected that I was acting out of morbid curiosity, or masochism. I had seen fatherhood. It made people grumpy and boring and exhausted.

‘What is that?' asked Lieve, sitting up.

‘It's a grappling hook.'

‘What possible use could you have for a grappling hook?' she asked.

‘Well, it … I don't know. For climbing things.'

‘Were you going to break in?'

‘Oh no – don't worry, nothing like that. No, it's just that I think your ex-husband is going to try to blow up the Shard tomorrow.'

‘What?'

‘I think he's going to try—'

‘What in God's name makes you think that?'

‘Well, the racism was my first clue. He keeps talking about fascism.'

‘He reads a lot of history.'

‘Exactly. On his white board upstairs there are all these references to secret right-wing societies like the Cagoule—'

‘That's my white board,' she said.

‘I don't understand.'

‘A year or two ago I helped some American academics solve the murder of my grandmother, Laetitia Toureaux.
⁷¹
John didn't care what I was up to then and I very much doubt he's started to since.'

‘Okay, so that wasn't him. But I have other evidence. He's said things—'

‘Günter, you don't know him like I do.' My gut burned with jealousy. ‘He likes to provoke people. He doesn't believe half the stuff he says, he just enjoys baiting liberals. It's one of his less endearing habits. He likes the idea that people talk about him all the time; it's as if he really believes that any publicity is good publicity.'

‘I can't think of a better talking point than blowing up a building,' I said.

‘He's not a violent man,' she said.

‘Maybe he's changed.'

She picked up the grappling hook and put it in the cupboard under the stairs, next to the hoover. ‘You're not having that back until after you've finished all those windows.'

‘What if he's really planning something awful?'

‘I just don't think he is,' she replied.

‘Well, it can't hurt to be vigilant, can it?'

I followed her eyes to the clock. I had about three hours until work. This was the danger zone. If I slept now, I'd probably be more tired, or even omit to wake at all. No, I had to stay awake at all costs.

‘I think I have to go,' I said, taking my hand away.

‘What are we going to do about us?' she asked.

‘Are you absolutely sure you're going to have this baby?'

‘Yes.'

I nodded. ‘Then there is no point in us arguing. You are having the baby, so I'll be there. I might be bad at it, but I will be there. I never know how to do the right thing. But I do know that I couldn't bear to have a child that didn't know me, or couldn't call on me. Life is hard enough without losing a parent before you have begun. It is like trying to live with a chunk carved out of your innards. You don't know how much damage it is doing, no one does. Nothing can take its place.'

‘Not until you have someone of your own to look after,' she replied.

We stood up.

‘I wish I didn't have to go,' I said.

‘It's okay. I'll see you tomorrow night.'

‘Maybe.'

‘Definitely.'

I opened the front door to the chill winds and Lieve pulled her gown tightly around her. I kissed her soft lips passionately – the last kiss I ever gave her – and stepped out into the dark.