The Silence of Ghosts (19 page)

I thought he blanched. Did he know more about the house than I’d suspected? Or was he just not used to me standing up to him. What would be his reaction if I told him the truth?

‘I think it’s time you were in bed, Mr Lancaster,’ said Rose, coming closer and taking my arm.

‘Be sure he doesn’t invite you into it.’ This was my mother, and these were almost the only words she’d spoken that evening. I was tired, but I had lost my patience.

‘If you must know,’ I snapped, ‘I have proposed to Rose and she has done me the honour of accepting me. The banns were read in Martindale parish church on Sunday. We would like to have your blessing.’

My mother sniggered. My father looked disgusted.

‘We will talk about this another time, Dominic. But I will say here that my blessing will not be forthcoming, nor, I am sure, will your mother give hers.’

There was a snort at my mother’s end, and a shaking of her head.

‘I am sorry this has discommoded you both so much,’ I said, holding back my real feelings with great difficulty. ‘My nurse has suggested it’s time for me to go to bed, and I will take her advice. She will see me into bed and then go to her room. When we marry, it will be a different matter, as you will see.’

‘I would not be so casual in using the word “when”. You may not marry. I may not permit it.’ My father was enjoying this. Rather than encourage him, I took my stick from Rose – I had switched to it from my crutches thinking, foolishly, I would impress my parents with my progress – and she helped me through the door.

Later

Rose and I took Octavia to bed. She had followed us to the door and gone upstairs behind us. Our apartment is large and extends across two floors. My parents sleep in separate rooms on the lower level, near the reception rooms and the kitchen. They had made no allowances for my condition previously, and now I still had to climb the stairs to my room above, this time with Rose’s help.

Octavia asked why Father and I had argued, and I told her that it was just because I’d announced my engagement to Rose. Still, it took some time to settle her down. The air raid had rattled her. Some of the blasts had been loud enough for her to hear, and she had been aware of everyone else flinching every time a bomb exploded near at hand. She told me the steady growl of the planes was still playing through her brain.

We got her into bed and found Boris, the teddy bear she had left behind, his red button eye still intact. Octavia introduced him to Bertram and told us they were already friends. I knew my parents would never call in to wish her goodnight. Once Octavia was convinced that there would be no further raids that
night – though none of us knew that for sure – I made to put out the light. But as I did so, she shook her head violently and asked me to leave it on.

Rose asked if she would be able to sleep with the light on.

‘Maybe,’ Octavia answered. ‘I don’t know. But I’ve done it before.’

‘Yes, but that was in Hallinhag House because of the things that are there.’

‘I know,’ Octavia said, ‘but something has followed us from there. We’re not alone.’

We asked her what she meant, but she just shook her head. Her eyes began to grow heavy, then closed, and before very long she fell asleep.

My parents had gone to their own beds by then too. I heard their doors close. The housekeeper, Mrs Mayberry, came up to ask if we would need her any longer, and we said no, we’d go to our rooms now that Octavia had settled. Mrs Mayberry kissed Octavia goodnight, and I remembered her many small kindnesses when I was a boy and later, and how thoughtful she had always been to Octavia. Without her, Octavia might never have known anything but the cold formalities of life in this palace of an ice king and queen.

Mrs Mayberry went back downstairs and I heard her go to her room. Rose found my stick and gave it to me, then helped me quietly out of the room. She took me along the corridor to my room and we went inside. I got to the bed and sat on it, then I noticed that Rose had turned round and was busy locking the door.

‘Rose? What are you doing? Surely you aren’t frightened that . . . ?’

She put her finger to her lips and pulled the key from the door.

‘You should tell me to leave,’ she said, ‘or ask me to stay. If
I stay, I will get into bed with you. The way your father spoke to you earlier, and his boasting that he might stop us marrying have made me rethink things. And the bombs that fell tonight have startled me. They will fall wherever they will fall, and perhaps we’ll die and perhaps your parents and Octavia and Mrs Mayberry will die. None of us can trust to life any more. I think that if I died tomorrow and became like those poor children in Hallinhag House, I would go through eternity regretting that we had never known one another in the flesh. I may be no more than a nurse and I may not aspire to join your elevated family, but my body is a woman’s body and you have a right to see it and touch it, just as I have a right to touch yours.’

And she touched the top button of her blouse, and her fingers moved in a slow dance across the other buttons, unbuttoning until the blouse came away and she stripped it from her arms. I sat on the bed and watched and she removed her brassiere and she stood facing me bare-breasted, taking my breath away. If I had felt any hesitation about what we were doing, it fell away from my heart in those moments. I had never seen a woman’s naked breasts before, though I had seen them in paintings in the National Gallery; yet the moment she bared them for me, I couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming desire to look at them and touch them.

Then she removed the rest of her clothing. She did it without drama, not as an exhibitionist might undress, but daintily, with a nurse’s efficiency, I suppose, yet at every step inviting my gaze, and I watched what I had never watched before, and when she was naked, it was almost more than I could bear, and my need to touch her was overwhelming. She turned off the overhead light, leaving my little bedside lamp to shed some light on our lovemaking.

She smiled, but said nothing as she came to me. It took her
not much more than a minute to unfasten my shirt and trousers and to remove my underwear. For some reason I felt self-conscious of my amputated leg, even though Rose had bathed and cleaned it every day since I first met her.

‘This will be better if I get on top,’ she said. ‘We can practise later with you in the same position.’

I didn’t care which way up either of us was. She kneeled over me, angling her body so I could explore her with my hands. Then she lay against me and used her hand to help me enter her. As I did so, I began to stroke her back and arms and buttocks. I continue stroking her gently, but with growing force, and as I did so her skin changed under my hands. It started by becoming very slightly rough, like fine sand, and in my ignorance I thought this was the normal state of a woman’s skin in lovemaking. My brain was no longer working well. I was stranded between pleasure and delirium, but I moved my hands across her like someone who’s been doing the same thing every day for forty years. I wanted to follow every curve of her, but the more I did so, the rougher her skin became, and then I woke up. I was running my hands over what felt like the cold scales of a fish or a snake. And where she had been caressing me, suddenly I felt something like sharp claws. I looked at her and pulled her head back and saw red eyes glaring down at me. I screamed and pushed her away from me, off the bed, and I pulled myself away to the other side. My stick was a fine ramshorn specimen that Rose had bought in Pooley Bridge for me, and I stretched out and got hold of it, ready to fight off whatever had taken Rose’s place.

I looked down at where she had fallen, and all I saw was Rose’s naked back. I saw no sign of scales, of a monstrous fish or a venomous snake. She was curled up on the floor and sobbing bitterly, and I didn’t know just what I had done to her.

‘Rose,’ I said, but she did not respond. ‘Rose, we have to speak.’ She still refused to speak to me, and she got to her feet and started to put on her clothes again. All the while, she did not cast a single look at me. I realized that there was no point in trying to engage her in conversation, no point in trying to explain, if I could explain. Our romance was over, our wedding would never take place.

Thursday, 2 January

The second day of the new year. Winter and the war are still with us, and my ghosts are still with me, more vividly than ever. Because of last night’s manifestation, I have lost everything, and my restless spirit cannot find peace. Rose and I took Octavia to see Dr Martin this morning. She – I mean Rose – does not speak to me, and I dare not speak to her, even though I want to explain to her what really happened. I cannot tell Octavia what has happened, it would be impossible to explain to a child. There was a note for me from Rose this morning on the breakfast table. She writes that once she sees Octavia settled here, she will take the first train north. I am more devastated than I can say, yet I have no one to whom I can talk. My parents are like walls without doors or windows, no one I know well, no friends, are still in London, and Rose’s mother is the last person I could make my confidante. Perhaps the Reverend Braithwaite will listen, or maybe Dr Raverat. But they are far away. Embarrassment on top of misery, then, misery on top of fear.

When we got to the hospital, it was buzzing with voices and the sound of feet running on linoleum. Soldiers are coming home from the Western Desert with strange illnesses and the
armed forces want them out of London and back to the front within days. Others are left behind as I was, to recover more slowly or to die. A good few soldiers visit the Berka, the red light district in Cairo, and are shipped home with a mixture of venereal diseases and other horrors endemic to Egypt, like hepatitis, schistosomiasis, typhoid or West Nile fever. God, I wish they could ship me out there, where the sands could swallow me alive and erect a monument to my folly.

Rose went in to see Dr Martin alone, posing as Octavia’s nurse. I was left to sit in a bleak waiting room, a room empty of anyone but myself. This was a temporary home for the hospital. There were no magazines to read, no one offered me a cup of tea. Nurses and doctors of all sorts passed by along the corridor next to me. Voices echoed beyond, sisters shouting orders, trolleys humming past, nurses laughing and growing silent. I tried to think about what had happened. I remembered what Octavia had said not long before it all happened: ‘. . . something has followed us from there. We’re not alone.’ It was the only thing that made sense. Not the children, surely. But that other thing, that unnameable presence, had it been capable of implanting falsehoods in my brain? Or the Portuguese man or the man called Sir William – had it been their doing?

Time passed. I looked at my watch from time to time, as though I was keeping watch on board ship. An hour went by.

A nurse appeared, dressed in the Queen Alexandra’s Nursing Service uniform, familiar to me from my days on board the
Aba
. I noticed she was wearing a ribbon, blue vertical stripes on a red background.

‘Is that the new George Medal?’ I asked, while she helped me to my feet.

‘I’ve been abroad,’ she said. ‘I can’t say where, of course. We had a lot of fighting. Well, that’s it really.’

I reckoned she couldn’t be more than twenty-five. Whatever she’d done to earn that medal, it hadn’t been insignificant.

She took me to the consulting room, where the doctor, Octavia and Rose were waiting for me. Rose didn’t look in my direction as I came in or when I was helped by the nurse onto a chair. The doctor shook my hand.

‘Lieutenant,’ he said. ‘You’re doing very well for an injury of that sort. Isn’t he, Nurse Abrahams?’ His Irish accent was immediately noticeable.

‘He must have had excellent help.’ She smiled. Her with her medal, me with my artificial leg, all trophies of the war.

‘I had the best help imaginable,’ I said.

The doctor asked Nurse Abrahams to take Octavia to a nearby room, and when they had gone he turned back to me.

‘Lieutenant Lancaster, I asked Rachel Abrahams to take Octavia out, because I don’t think she’s ready yet to hear the news I have to give you. I want to confirm Dr Thackery’s diagnosis. Octavia certainly has leprosy, and it seems unusually aggressive. He measured her rash when he saw her. The rash has grown noticeably since then, and it is getting thicker and raised above the skin. My conclusion is that Octavia has tuberculoid leprosy, which is the least damaging form. But I have gone over every part of her. I have seen a number of circular patches which are likely to be the formation of new outbreaks. That is not such good news, in fact they give me cause for concern.

‘You must think very hard about how your sister might have contracted the disease. It really isn’t easy, you know. I believe you think she may have been in contact with some people from Portugal. Can you find out if any of them had leprosy? If they were business contacts of your father, he may know if they had.’

He gave advice and handed me a month’s supply of Dapsone, a medicine most hospitals would not have had to hand.

‘She needs to come back to me once a month. You can make an appointment for February when you’re leaving. Nurse Abrahams will show you where to go.’

‘I noticed she has a George Medal.’

‘Yes, indeed. We’re very proud of her. She came here straight from the front line. She doesn’t talk about it much, but as I understand it she saved a dozen men from under heavy fire. The First Aid unit she was with was smashed to pieces. Most of her chums were killed. She has relatives in Germany, but they’ve all disappeared and been taken to camps. All Jews, of course. Nobody knows what will happen to them. But if I can manage it, I won’t let her be sent to the front again. She’s done her bit in my opinion. Just as you have, young man.’

All this time, Rose kept herself turned away from me and said nothing. When I left, she let me go first, coming quite a few paces behind. Nurse Abrahams found us and fetched Octavia. She took us to the entrance, where our car was waiting for us. I got into the rear with Octavia. We drove home in silence.