The Innocents, page 7
‘Well, he’s expecting you. Block Two. The privilege block. What with him being a lord and all. You’ll find him on the terrace.’ He gestured for her to follow an attendant, a huge wall of a man who Tansie would have hired as a chucker-out if he’d been there. Ahead of them lay a tall archway topped by a large clock, and a pair of enormous green wooden doors, then a further set of gates.
Something about him told Minnie the attendant didn’t want to engage in conversation, so she didn’t bother. What would she have said anyway? He slowed his pace for her to keep up, but still she found herself trotting after him, like a stray dog after someone with half a pound of scrag.
They entered Block Two and went up to the first-floor terrace. Teddy was waiting for her, his hands resting on a railing, his body angled towards the landscape. Everything about him told her he was anticipating her arrival, had chosen his pose of indifference with care. Her footsteps tapped across the floor, but he did not turn even when she stopped a few feet away from him. Close enough to catch the aroma of his expensive cologne.
‘You came,’ he said, without turning his head away from the magnificent views of the Blackwater Valley. ‘I thought perhaps you wouldn’t.’
His voice was clear, bold. Entitled. He was wearing a dark-navy suit so exquisitely cut she suspected it would move Albert to tears. Judging by the look of the other inmates she’d passed on the way in, Teddy wasn’t getting his clothes from the Broadmoor seamstresses.
‘You didn’t give me much choice,’ Minnie said, speaking slowly to control the tremor in her voice.
‘We always have a choice,’ he said, finally turning to her, and she was reminded of the exaggerated blinking that marked him. Funny how she’d forgotten about that, when she’d remembered so much else.
He looked at her appraisingly and then frowned. ‘Dear me. You’re not looking your best, Minerva. A little rouge would help, don’t you think? Some colour to the lips? Or are they no longer selling cosmetics on the Strand?’
‘I ain’t here for beauty tips. You asked to see me. Tell me what you’ve got to say and then I’ll be on my way.’
He made an exaggerated moue of disappointment. ‘But I’ve got so much planned. A gentle stroll in the grounds. Some refreshment. A little visit to my cell – apologies, we’re encouraged to call them bedrooms, not cells.’
He was going to make her wait, that much was certain. ‘My train’s at three,’ she said.
‘Best we embark on our little tour, then.’ He offered her his arm, and she instinctively flinched away from him. ‘Too soon?’ he said. ‘Maybe on your next visit.’
She did not rise to the bait. Teddy glanced over her shoulder at the burly attendant who had accompanied her. ‘Ralph here will have to escort us, I’m afraid. But he can be very discreet, can’t you, Ralphie?’
The attendant said nothing, merely moved his hand to some sort of truncheon hanging from his belt, alongside a set of handcuffs.
Teddy looked up at the sky, then ran his eye over Minnie, wincing a little at the sight of her plain shawl and workaday bonnet. ‘I rather fancied a stroll in the grounds,’ he said. ‘Will you be warm enough?’
Minnie nodded, and the unlikely trio headed outside.
‘Do you know I’m referred to here as a “pleasure man”?’ Teddy said as they started to walk away from the main building. ‘I was found not guilty by reason of insanity, and I am detained at Her Majesty’s pleasure. Don’t you feel it’s rather an appropriate title? Perhaps that’s what I should have called the members of the Godwin. Pleasure men. Any pleasure in your life these days, Minerva? How is the lovely Albert?’
She dug her nails into her palms. His words, his lingering looks, his enquiries into the private areas of her life felt as if he was placing his hands on her. Invading her. She breathed slowly, told herself she would be leaving here soon. It had been a mistake to come. What on earth had she thought she’d achieve? He was just playing with her, and his decision to sell or keep the Palace would happen regardless of what she said to him today.
Teddy carried on, seemingly unfazed by her lack of response. ‘They tell me I am morally insane. My mind is unable to think and behave as it should. But who decides what “should” looks like? My mind works perfectly well. It just doesn’t want exactly the same things other men want. Or not what men admit to wanting, at least.’
He nodded towards an elderly man who was walking quietly on his own. ‘One of our more famous inmates. Richard Dadd. Heard of him?’
Minnie shook her head.
‘Killed his father. People say he’s a great artist but I’ve seen some of his stuff. Dadd’s daubs, I call ’em. Fairies and suchlike. Can you believe it? Total and utter loon. What’s wrong with a decent painting of a horse, for God’s sake? Or a nice bowl of fruit?’
They strolled on further, and Teddy gestured towards a small group of men huddled under a copse of trees. The other patients seemed to be avoiding them. ‘Those with an unhealthy interest in our four-legged friends,’ whispered Teddy, leaning in close to share the information, as if Minnie had asked a question about them.
He stopped suddenly and turned towards her, a smile illuminating his face. ‘Would you like to know how I spend my days, Minerva? Or would you rather hear about the food? Or our cells? Or—’
‘I’d like to know why I’m here,’ she interrupted. ‘What exactly it is you want.’
‘Is it not enough that I might have just wanted to see you? You are rather – delicious.’
She flinched, couldn’t help herself. He smiled at her discomfort.
‘Oh, very well. Although I am hopeful this little outing will have piqued your curiosity enough to trigger a second visit. I’ve got so much more to show you. For today, though, I have a simple request. Orange, the chief here. Decent enough chap, I suppose. My release rests with him. He determines if I’m unlikely to reoffend, and then petitions the Home Office. He’s a great believer in redemption. Forgiveness. Repentance.’
‘And are you? Repentant?’
He said nothing for a moment, just eyed her closely, a gentle smile playing across his lips. ‘They never ask us in here, you know. About the acts that brought us here.’
‘Never?’
‘When you’re first admitted, they ask you a few questions but that’s all. After the first day or so, it’s never mentioned again.’
‘Why not?’
He shrugged. ‘I imagine it’s born of sensitivity. This is a hospital, after all. Do you dream of her?’ he asked suddenly, tilting his head inquisitively to one side.
‘Who?’
‘Rose.’
She raised her eyes skywards, to hold back the tears.
‘Me too,’ he said, his voice low and gentle as a caress. ‘And not just dreams. She comes to me. Every day.’ He must have registered her disbelief. ‘I know, remarkable, is it not? Every day at roughly the same time, she appears in my cell. We talk. Well, I talk, she listens. An exceptional woman. I rather wish I’d kept her.’
A tear escaped from between Minnie’s lashes, and she brushed it away angrily.
‘You were saying. About Orange and petitioning the Home Office.’
‘Ah, yes. Forgiveness goes a long way with him. If you could be persuaded to tell him – or write to him; I could help you write it – that you have witnessed the change in me. That you feel I’m not the man I was, some such nonsense. It would help. To get me out of here.’
Minnie said nothing, struggling to comprehend what he was asking of her.
‘And the girl’s mother. Never caught her name.’
‘Ida,’ she said, her voice flat and dull. She felt as if she were tainting Ida just by mentioning her name in Teddy’s company.
‘Yes. Ida. No father? No, thought not. Well, if Ida could be persuaded to say a kind word or two. All grist to the mill.’
‘And if I won’t?’
He pulled an exaggerated grimace of disappointment again. ‘How much was Edie’s investment in the Palace? Seventy per cent? All of which passed to me on our marriage. I’m not sure whether mathematics is one of your many talents, but you’re clever enough to work it out, surely?’ He turned and walked away from her, as if confident in the knowledge she would follow him. She looked at Ralph, the attendant, but his face was a blank. Cursing herself, she hurried after Teddy.
They called it the privilege block, but Minnie couldn’t see any difference between Block Two and the others. Dark-red brick, bars at every window, surrounded by a huge wall topped with iron spikes and broken glass. It didn’t scream privilege.
Ralph led the way, unlocking a door which opened onto a long corridor. A guard was sitting at a table, a single candle lit beside him.
‘This,’ said Teddy with an exaggerated show of politeness, ‘is Brian. And this is the candle from which we are allowed to light our cigarettes or pipes. No naked flames left unsupervised, eh, Brian?’ He gave the guard a wink, but Brian ignored him.
Teddy showed her his cell. Or, rather, his cells. Three adjoining rooms: a bedroom, some sort of day room and then a smaller cell which housed his books on shelves which extended from floor to ceiling and covered three of the four walls. Teddy followed her gaze. ‘I had to have the shelves built,’ he explained.
The rooms were comfortable, with touches of luxury, but it was impossible to forget you were in a gaol. The doors were unlocked during the day but bolted from the outside at night, by Brian or one of his co-workers. The door housed a long, narrow slot which the guards and doctors could look through at any time and there were iron bars at all the windows. And yet, look beyond the bars and there were lovely views from Teddy’s rooms: a long valley, with cows clustering beneath a copse of oak trees. And, closer to home, the tennis courts and cricket pitch.
‘You seem to be allowed anything you want,’ Minnie said, her eyes darting from the books to photographs, a paintbox and sketchbooks, a flute and a violin, and several nice-looking bottles of claret.
‘Anything money can buy,’ he said, his eyes never leaving her face. ‘Provided it doesn’t impinge on my safety or the running of the asylum. I even have staff. I don’t believe you’ve met Andrew?’
She looked at him, incredulous, as he gestured over her shoulder for someone to come forward. The man was young – probably in his early twenties, like Minnie – with large, doe-like eyes and a generous mouth. He smiled tentatively at Minnie. ‘Andrew Bryant,’ he said, his voice low and melodious. ‘Lord Linton pays me to work for him, run errands, deliver his post to the main lodge, minor things really. I’ve told him time and time again, I’d do it for free. He’s such a remarkable man, don’t you think?’
‘No,’ Minnie said baldly. ‘I don’t find him remarkable at all.’
Andrew looked puzzled. ‘You clearly don’t know him very well. Give it time and you’ll see just what a unique individual he is. I feel blessed to call him my friend.’
‘Well,’ Teddy said, visibly wincing, ‘I’m not sure I’d go quite that far, Andrew. Now, run along until suppertime.’
Andrew bowed and almost backed out of the room.
Teddy gazed after him, the tiniest frown creasing his brow. ‘Murdered his parents when he was eighteen. Butchered them in their bed.’
Then, after a brief shake of the head, he told her about the food, the activities they were allowed, the structure of the day. He showed her the clay he used for model-making, the programme for the evening of dramatic performances he had lately been involved in. The words poured out of him as if this were his last and only chance to speak. Finally, it was time to leave.
‘Will you come again?’ he asked. And there was a weakness, a desperation in his voice that took Minnie by surprise. ‘Time passes slowly here, Minnie. I have few visitors, little correspondence.’
‘Edie?’
He shrugged. ‘She writes. Her letters provide little consolation. No mention of when she might return. I rather fear my darling wife has abandoned me.’
‘You can hardly blame her.’
‘And yet I do.’ He broke off abruptly, turning his head away. If it were anyone else, Minnie would have felt moved by their unhappiness. But this was Teddy.
He turned back to her, forcing a smile. ‘Your presence today has been – a delight.’
She said nothing, went to turn away. Teddy grabbed her hand and, quick as a flash, Ralph tapped him on the wrist with the truncheon and was reaching for the handcuffs with his other hand.
‘No touching, Minnie,’ Teddy said, rubbing his wrist. ‘Can you imagine? Not the slightest human touch. Day after day. A man could die of such cruelty.’ He looked at her, all artifice stripped from his face.
Rot in hell, she thought. But the words stopped in her throat. She took her skirts in her hand, turned and swept off down the long corridor. Behind her she heard Teddy call her name. Once. Twice. But she kept on walking, out of the building and onto the waiting omnibus to take her back to the station.
EIGHT
Albert was enjoying a last cup of tea and a read of the newspaper before heading up to bed, when a loud knock on the door pierced the quiet. Mrs Byrne had already retired for the night, so he went to the door.
Minnie.
She was out of breath, and the street lamps caught a sheen of sweat along her hairline. Instantly, as if assailed by the recollection of a bad dream, a thread of panic ran through his veins.
‘What is it?’ he asked. ‘What’s happened?’
She held up a hand to stop him before he could say anything more. ‘Nothing’s happened. At least, nothing terrible. I just needed to talk to you. I thought it could wait until morning, but it can’t.’
‘So come in,’ he said, standing back from the door. ‘It’s freezing out there.’
She shook her head. ‘No, I need to say it all now. And then you can decide what you wanna do.’
Albert nodded, bewildered.
‘I went to Broadmoor today,’ Minnie said, ‘and, yes, I know. I shouldn’t have gone. You were right. But I did go. Seeing Linton, it all came back to me. Everything I’d pushed away so I could tell myself I was coping when I weren’t. Rose. Cora. Daisy. And him. Teddy. That man scares the hell out of me, Albert, I’ve gotta be honest.’
‘He scares me too.’
‘He’s in there. Banged up. But he ain’t exactly suffering. He’s got backhanders going left, right and centre. Stays in what they call the privilege block. Little chums inside and outside Broadmoor. Luxury items that are making his life easy. Did you know he’s learning to play the violin? That they put on little plays and choral evenings that the locals get invited to?’
Albert shook his head.
‘No, well, why would you know that? Sorry, I’m rambling, ain’t I?’
‘A little. It might help if you came inside?’ he suggested again.
She shook her head. ‘No, let me finish. After I’d left him, as I was coming back home on the train, it struck me that one day, with all his money and his fancy connections, Linton’s gonna get out of that place. I’ll be walking down the street one day, and he’ll be there, right in front of me, with his weird blinking and his way of making you feel like he’s got his hands on you even when he ain’t. He’ll appear, just like Three-Fingers did the other night.’ She paused, shuddered, and pulled her shawl tighter round her body. Albert waited for her to continue.
‘And that thought, knowing he was gonna get out one day – it felt like’ – she took a deep breath – ‘it was like being at home, thinking you’re all snug and safe and, just like that, the walls collapse and fall away. And I’m standing there. Exposed. Like anyone could just walk into my house and get me. Am I making any sense?’
‘You are. Keep going.’
‘I realised that all the things I’d been doing to make myself feel safe, moving into the Palace, staying there as much as I could, hiding myself away – none of it was really gonna help. And then I thought of you, and how I’ve hidden myself away from you more than anyone else, and I felt so—’ she faltered, and Albert instinctively reached towards her, but she took a step backwards and swiftly shook her head as if to ward off whatever he was about to say. Then she raised her eyes to his, and he swore for a moment his heart stopped beating. ‘I felt so ashamed, Albert. All you’ve ever done is look after me, and I’ve treated you like you were part of the problem. You didn’t even tell me about your poor ma. Hiding away ain’t gonna do any good, is it? I’ve been trying it for nine months, and all it’s done is make me bloody miserable. There’s bad stuff out there, and the only way I think I can deal with it is by fighting it. So,’ and she inhaled deeply again, ‘if the offer still stands, I’d like us to work together.’ She fumbled in her bag and withdrew a small piece of dog-eared card which she handed to Albert. He recognised the business card he’d given her all those months ago.
‘Glad to see you’ve been taking good care of it,’ he said after a few moments, gesturing to the worn edges and the trace of what looked like face powder on the back.
The merest flicker of a smile crossed her face. ‘I kept it, didn’t I? What more do you want? And we’d have to change it, like I said. “Easterbrook and Ward” just sounds better, don’t it? And I’ll still have the Palace, so it can’t be full-time, but I thought maybe – maybe I could start with Bernard’s brother? Bernard’s in a right state, although he’s doing his best to hide it. I could ask a few questions, have a bit of a nose around. But if you don’t want to – I’ll understand. Truly, I will—’ Her voice broke.
Albert took a step forward, pulled her towards him, led her into the morning room and guided her to the couch. He sat beside her while she sobbed, so hard he worried she was going to hurt herself. And inside he cried too. For Rose and Cora and Daisy. For all those poor dead girls and the people they had left behind who could never sit again like this with their loved ones. Who could never hold them and tell them all would be well. Even if that was a lie.
Finally she stopped, blew her nose loudly in the handkerchief he’d given her and gave him a weak smile.
