Darkmans (60 page)

‘Well it’s none of your damn
business
, for starters,’ he growled.

‘I didn’t say it was,’ Peta shrugged, ‘I just said it was perplexing, that’s all…’

She paused. ‘Which it is.’

‘Kane and I are very different,’ Beede insisted.

‘No. That’s not true. From what I can tell you’re actually very similar…’

‘Similar? You think so?’ he sneered. ‘Well maybe
that’s
at the root of it, eh?’

‘Perhaps.’

She refused to be intimidated.

Silence

‘Very
similar
,’ Beede scoffed.

‘You both take things so much to heart…’ Peta murmured.

‘
Kane?!
’ He blinked at her, astonished. ‘How can you possibly think that? You’ve met him once. Trust me, Kane takes nothing to heart. He lives in the moment. If he doesn’t like a situation then he walks away from it or he devours a pill to blank it out…’

Peta looked shocked. ‘That’s harsh, Beede…’

‘He’s a thief,’ Beede maintained calmly, ‘a dealer.’

‘He eliminates pain,’ Peta neatly recontextualised. ‘He brings people relief.’

Beede snorted, contemptuously.

Peta ignored this. ‘Weren’t you ever close?’ she asked.

Beede shrugged. ‘There was never really
room
…Heather was always so…’

He shook his head, irritated.

‘What?’

‘I don’t know…
Needy.
Overpowering.’

‘Even before she was ill?’

He nodded. ‘Kane was her refuge – her retreat. He was just this tiny, open, credulous little receptacle into which she poured all her dreams, all her frustrations – her disappointments. She was just one of those characters…Very funny, very charming, openly manipulative – sometimes almost…I don’t know…almost
hilariously
so. And beautiful – intensely beautiful. People just loved to be around her, to do things for her. Kane was no exception…’

‘But didn’t the relationship concern you?’ Peta asked.

‘Pardon?’

‘Well it doesn’t sound entirely…’

‘Healthy? Functional? No. It wasn’t. And naturally I spoke to her about it. I warned her. But she didn’t care. It was just her nature. Her
way
…’

Beede idly picked a currant out of his rock cake and gently pressed it between his forefinger and his thumb. ‘Heather stifled the boy. She always did. And for my part, I was always determined that if there was one thing I could do for him – as a man, a father – it would be to leave him to his own devices. Not to criticise. Not to control. Not to manipulate or to judge. And that – to the best of my ability – is what I did.’

‘Was it difficult?’

‘It nearly killed me…’ he smiled, grimly. ‘But that which doesn’t kill us…’

He paused. ‘And in hindsight it was probably a mistake. The damage – the trauma – was way too deep. Kane quickly confused freedom with
licence
…’

‘What about the divorce?’ she asked (determined to understand every detail of the scenario). ‘How did that work?’

Beede popped the currant into his mouth. ‘She squeezed me out,’ he shrugged, ‘or I squeezed myself out. It just ended. We were relieved. There were no ill feelings on either side.’

‘None?’

‘No,’ he glanced over at her, blankly, ‘there were always other projects, other demands on my energy…’

‘But then she fell ill?’

‘Yes.
Yes.
Although it wasn’t quite as dramatic as…I mean it was all very slow, very gradual…’

He frowned.

‘Why the frown?’

‘Because…I don’t know…Because it all
sounds
very dramatic,
very tragic, even, and to a large extent it was, but the illness wasn’t entirely…It wasn’t…’ he continued frowning, ‘I mean doctors often like to imply that particular kinds of people – particular kinds of characters – have a sort of…of
predisposition
towards certain types of ailments…’

‘Like a choleric person developing an ulcer, say?’

He nodded. ‘In Heather’s case the illness seemed like a cruel but strangely coherent articulation of the person she already was. I mean she wasn’t a shirker – God forbid. Absolutely not – she was a
dancer
for Christ’s sake…They’re machines, they’re completely driven, totally indestructible right up to – and sometimes
beyond
– the point of collapse. But Heather made a career out of projecting herself as vulnerable, as embattled, as winsome and fragile, while underneath – below all those layers of connivance, below all that tinsel and netting and ribbons – was this astonishing feistiness and vitality, which is what people responded to, and which – God knows –
I
responded to at some level. It was what I loved about her, and what Kane loved too, I don’t doubt…’

‘So she moved to America?’ Peta interrupted.

‘Yes. Early on. They thought the warm, dry weather…’

‘And you didn’t mind her dragging your son along?’

‘Mind?’
Beede looked surprised. ‘Of course not. It just seemed…’

He shrugged again. ‘Inevitable, I suppose.’

‘You’d detached yourself,’ she sighed, ‘even at that stage.’

He grimaced. ‘Perhaps.’

He took another bite of his cake. Peta returned hers, virtually untouched, to its Tupperware container.

‘Were you pleased when they came back?’

‘Oh yes.’

He nodded. ‘I was relieved. For her sake as much as Kane’s. They moved into the bungalow on Hunter Avenue…’

‘And how was Kane by that stage?’

‘Kane?’

‘Was he different? Had he changed?’

‘Uh…I don’t know. He was always a good boy. He had a wayward side. He certainly doted on his mother…’

‘And you?’

‘Me?’

Again, the surprise.

‘Yes, how did Kane feel about you?’

Beede slowly shook his head, as if it hadn’t actually occurred to him to consider this before. ‘I couldn’t honestly say…I tried to be there for him, I suppose. But I had this sense that he’d moved on, that he didn’t really
relish
my involvement, that he’d…’

‘What? Grown up? Grown beyond you? Become an adult?’

‘No.
Yes.
’ Beede nodded. ‘I suppose he
had
to some extent. He was so amazingly attentive. So diligent when it came to Heather. He’d become her partner – her
dancing
partner – if you see what I mean. Her rock. Her support. He always knew the best thing to do, what tablet to take, what number to call…’

He suddenly scowled. ‘Until, of course…
Well
…’

He shook his head. He put down his cake. He glanced over towards her, with a shrug ‘…until he
didn’t
, obviously.’

He clasped his hands together and stared out through the rain-splattered windscreen.

‘What happened?’ she couldn’t resist prompting him.

He sighed. He lifted his glasses and rubbed his eyes. But didn’t seem to object to being prompted.

‘They were living downstairs at that point. I’d divided the flat into two parts. I was upstairs. The pain had been especially bad, I remember, especially gruelling. But there was actually a reason for that – it later transpired – because she’d been stockpiling her painkillers, her sleeping pills. She’d been planning for months to commit suicide.’

‘Did Kane know?’

‘Oh yes.
God
yes. He was intimately involved. Her motor skills were so diminished by the end. She found it difficult to swallow. And then there was always a danger that she might regurgitate what she’d taken once the process was actually under way. She didn’t want to risk that. Kane was an integral part…’

He fell silent.

‘How old was he?’

‘Fifteen. It was all so cold, so
calculated.
His sixteenth birthday was just two days away.’

‘Did he want his mother to die?’

Beede turned towards her, scowling. ‘Of course not. He loved her. He
doted
on her. But he would’ve done absolutely anything she’d asked him to do.’

‘So then what?’

‘I don’t know, exactly. They had a special day together. They celebrated his birthday early. There was a
cake
, I remember…and presents…’

He bit his lip. ‘And once that was done, once that was over…’

He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. Then he opened them again and drew a deep breath.

‘She’d taken the requisite amount,’ he calmly continued, ‘whatever that was…She’d actually passed out. From what I could glean afterwards she’d been “dead” – in Kane’s mind, at least, without any detectable pulse, he said – for twenty minutes or so…’

He smiled. ‘But the human animal is a resilient beast…’

‘She wasn’t dead?’

‘No. She suddenly started to twitch, to gasp, to move about. An awful kind of seizure…’

‘Kane must’ve been terrified.’

‘He panicked. He went to pieces. As luck would have it, though, I’d just come home from work…’

‘So you walked in on the whole thing?’

‘No.
No
…I was working unsociable hours at the time. I’d just crawl home in the afternoons and slip straight into bed. I rarely saw the two of them. We were all so bound up in our own lives, our own routines…Anyhow, the next thing I knew Kane was shaking me awake. He was hysterical. He said his mother had tried to kill herself. He said he needed help.’

‘He?’

‘Yes…’ he glanced up, ‘not
she.
Not
she
needed help. He needed help. I thought about that a lot, after…’

He shrugged. ‘Anyway, I ran downstairs, I saw her. It was…’ he winced ‘…a terrible sight.’

‘And Kane?’

‘Hysterical. You’ve got to help me, he kept saying, so I tried to sit her up, I tried to make her…’

‘Is that what he wanted, though? To revive her?’

‘No. I don’t know. Yes. I mean he loved her. He was traumatised…

He certainly didn’t try and stop me at that stage, although I do remember that he became quite distressed when I rang for an ambulance…’

He slowly shook his head. ‘In all honesty I don’t think he knew himself. That was the problem. It wasn’t the kind of decision he should’ve been called upon to make…’

‘But weren’t you tempted to just leave her? To let her die? That was what she’d wanted, after all…’

‘No.’ Beede’s answer was immediate. ‘Absolutely not. It didn’t dawn on me. And apart from anything else I could’ve been considered an accessory, which would’ve been a disaster for Kane. The boy had to be my priority. I couldn’t jeopardise his future care…’

‘But you never actually asked him?’

‘Asked him what?’

‘What he thought you should do.’

‘There wasn’t time…’

‘But you said he was her partner, her
rock
, surely…’

‘He came and woke me up. He was floundering. He’d lost control. He requested my help…And another thing,’ he continued staunchly, ‘if I’d left her to die, Kane may well have been haunted by his involvement – tormented by it, even – later on…’

‘Are you sure of that?’

‘Of course I am. How could he
not
be? He was a
child
…’

‘He was the adult. You said so yourself.’

‘
I
was the adult.
Heather
was the adult.’

‘So you revived her?’

He nodded. ‘I did my best. And the ambulance was mercifully prompt.’

Silence

‘So how long before she…?’

‘Before she died? Months. Almost a year. She was profoundly brain-damaged. But still she
knew
somehow…There was this powerful, this
palpable
sense of…of rage, of disappointment.’

‘God.’

‘Yes. It was awful.’

‘And Kane?’

‘Totally devastated. Furious. Mortified. He blamed me, obviously. And at some level I suppose he blamed himself for not having had the strength to sit it out.’

‘Didn’t you ever try and talk to him about it?’

‘I tried. Of
course
I tried. But the situation was on-going. It was fluid. There was never a perfect opportunity. And it was complicated. It was too difficult – for both of us. There was no…no
groundwork
…no…no
rapport
…’

Beede suddenly paused, agonised, as if an awful truth had just dawned on him. ‘I suppose there never really
has
been…’

Silence

‘…Ever.’

Silence

‘God. I was an abysmal dad,’ he said.

Once the boy had finally been persuaded to head upstairs to bed again, they sat together, stiffly, at either end of the sofa, a small pile of folded bed-linen placed between them like a buffer.

Elen had taken the opportunity to yank on a pair of loose, black sweat-pants and a huge, navy-blue jumper – (five sizes too large for her), which Kane presumed (with a slight sinking feeling) belonged to her absent partner.

‘When someone dies,’ she said, staring straight ahead of her, kneading anxiously with her agile fingers at the jumper’s hem, ‘it’s like they suddenly become a
part
of you. I mean at first there’s the grief, this huge
void
, this terrible sense of loss, but then one day you wake up and you find yourself eating the same cereal they ate – salted porridge, in the case of my dad, which I’d always really
loathed
before…’ she paused, ‘then buying the same kind of clothes – a certain type of
vest
, for example, which I started getting for Isidore, made out of this special Irish yarn, which really makes him
itch
, he says,’ she smiled, dreamily, ‘but which my dad had always worn…’

At the mention of Isidore’s name, Kane glanced towards her, with a frown.

‘And he loved Monkey Puzzles,’ she continued. ‘The trees?’

She glanced back at him, very briefly.

Kane nodded.

‘He’d always point and yell, “Monkey Puzzle!” whenever we drove past one – it was like some great, big joke which I never really caught the punch-line of…But I even found myself doing
that
…’ she shook her head, smiling, ‘and Fleet’s just as bemused by it now as
I
once was…’

‘My mother used to sing this stupid song about Aspidistras,’ Kane reminisced. ‘She had the most awful voice…’

‘Then one day I looked into the mirror,’ she interrupted him, ‘and I saw
his
face staring back at me. I’d never considered the resemblance before. I mean I don’t think there even
was
one…But suddenly our foreheads, our
jaws
…’