Hotbed (24 page)

When Manse's fiancée, Naomi, turned up on her own next afternoon at the club looking for Ralph he felt damn surprised at first. Although women at Monty functions would often seriously embarrass Ember by coming on at him in what he considered foolishly intense, hungry style, he couldn't recall any of that from her yesterday, just lively, plain chat, plus persistent, sometimes tactless questions.

‘Naomi!' he said. ‘Alone?'

‘Is that all right?'

‘All right?'

‘I'm not a Monty member, am I? Yesterday, I was a member's guest and therefore
persona grata
.'

‘We'll stretch a point.'

Oh, yes, Ralph did suffer terribly from eager women. The club might not yet be entirely as he wished, but its ambience obviously tickled the mainspring of certain female guests and members, particularly at major festivities such as to honour territory grabs, or mark burials or cremations, or celebrate court victories. Special functions seemed to stir hormones. In addition came what Ember regarded as the bizarre fascination with his jaw scar, plus that idiotic, tedious business of the undeniable resemblance to Charlton Heston as Chuck used to be, and possibly an improvement on him: Ralph thought the boniness of Heston's face might be slightly too much, and his own face, fortunately, did not suffer from this. But, of course, Ralph
did
deny knowledge of any resemblance if it was mentioned to him, or he might have seemed grossly, coxcombly vain, a quality he considered quite against his nature.

These factors combined apparently gave him a special sexual attractiveness, which, added to what could be called ‘the Monty effect', seemed to rally some women's blood and lavishly boost appetite.

‘I think you'll come to see why I couldn't bring Mansel,' Naomi said.

To Ralph, this seemed a pretty fast approach, even viewed alongside some of the fast approaches he'd grown used to. Naomi obviously had dash. On the whole, Ralph approved of dash in women, as long as it was backed up by appearance, of course. ‘The Monty effect', as he termed it, came from the fact that he ran and owned the club and therefore had a position of masterfulness and eminence. Women always went for that sort of thing. Although their enthusiasm could be a drag for Ralph, he tried to put up with it, even when they were old and/or ugly and/or unspruce. As Monty proprietor, regardless of its present state, he felt he had an absolute duty of respect and politeness to all members however crummy and/or monstrous. He thought of it as like
noblesse oblige
.

This was why he had joined the Misks when Rose called him over so blatantly. In Ralph's experience women these days could become blatant. Also, he'd wanted the talk with Alec, and couldn't seriously think that someone of Rose's age would still be touting for it in a public place, although the elderly, desperate ones could sometimes be the worst. His reasoning had turned out OK, even if the proposal she and Edna did put was just as unacceptable to Ralph in its own comical, big-headed way.

He spotted no signalling from Naomi yesterday, though, and Ralph considered himself extremely sensitive to women's cries from the heart and so on, even when discreetly concealed. But, then again, he'd naturally looked for nothing like that from Naomi. Good God, how could he possibly have expected such an approach? This woman was to marry Mansel in a full church ceremony very soon. Her focus would be exclusively and wholeheartedly on him, wouldn't it, for heaven's sake? Many might find this incomprehensible, even sickly, but it must be the case, mustn't it? The fact that Manse lacked altogether an intriguing jaw scar, and also lacked any resemblance to the young Heston, or to the young, glamorous anyone else, need not affect her commitment to him, surely. Luckily for Manse, beauty of face and physique was not the only desirable quality.

Of course, Ralph had been the first to offer Naomi gallantry by disposing of Unhinged when he made his lunge for her neck. Manse's response came only later. Almost too late and, in any case, redundant. Also, rather crude: knuckledusters suggested thuggery, whereas the Kressmann armagnac bottle had class and possibly wit. Ralph could imagine Unhinged might experience a kind of pride at being felled by the Kressmann. Probably Naomi felt a special thankfulness to Ralph. He understood thankfulness and would accept it, though in an offhand, say-no-more-please fashion. He hated to have too much fuss made of his accomplishments. Ralph did not mind tall, thinnish, frank, argumentative women too much as long as they had looks, decently curvaceous arses to counter the thinness, and some idea of fashion. But there'd clearly be health concerns after Manse.

‘A drink?' he said.

‘I get scared, Ralph.'

He thought she sounded puzzled rather than afraid. ‘Unhinged – that's to say, Humphrey –
can
become a little ungovernable,' he said. ‘His mind – his so-called mind – goes its own way. But you dealt with that unpleasantness well. You certainly didn't
look
scared. Capable, in fact – flung into an unpredictable, seesawing situation, yet markedly unfazed. I'd imagine Mansel was proud of you.'

‘Oh, yes ... Mansel ... well ...' She made her face expressionless. Not everybody could do that when talking about Shale. Ralph waited for her to finish, but she didn't. He tried to guess at the rest of it.
Oh, yes . . . Mansel . . . well, he doesn't throw praise around. Oh, yes . . . Mansel . . . well, he was so concerned about the foxes and stoats nuzzling Turret he didn't know much else until almost too late. Oh, yes . . . Mansel . . . well, Mansel is Mansel and who knows what he's thinking?
Ember could have agreed with that. Who
did
know Manse's thoughts, besides himself? And when, sometimes, he tried to describe them he came over unintelligible. Ralph doubted whether Manse genuinely worried all that much about the foxes and stoats nosing into Turret. After all, Manse had probably dropped Turret there dead, or had him dropped there dead, careless of whether he got nuzzled.

‘Actually, I didn't mean scared of Unhinged Humphrey,' she explained. ‘But, obviously, I'm in your debt for the vintage armagnac thumps on him.'

‘Routine.'

‘Really?'

‘Oh, yes.'

‘So swift.
So
decisive.'

‘Necessarily.'

‘Manse told me some call you “Panicking Ralph” or “Panicking Ralphy” because they felt let down by you in crisis circumstances. But this must, absolutely
must
, be a slander. I saw nothing like that – nothing panicky – the opposite, indeed – and Unhinged with his fingers on my neck could be called a crisis circumstance, I believe.'

Oh, thanks, Mansel, you big-mouthed Pre-Raphaeliteloving, grammar-mincing fucker. All right, Ember would acknowledge that now and then he did suffer those more or less disabling, pathological panic symptoms – loss of limb power, sweats, the fear that his mesmeric jaw scar had opened up and begun to weep something lurid and unspeakable. There'd been a few bad episodes long ago during tense team jobs on security vans and so on, yes, and word travelled: that malicious nickname went around, he knew, though nobody but this blunt bird and Turret would use it to his face, even to deny
absolutely
its rightness, as she did. And why had Manse told her? The act of a mate? Was that sodding schemer a mate now, though?

‘People who fear one do try to diminish one by grotesquely false accusations,' Ralph remarked in a quiet, relaxed, almost casual style. ‘The Goebbels big lie technique. In its perverted way, a compliment. They seek to make one sound weak because they are so aware one is anything but. Contemptible and, in the long run, self-defeating. One is what one is, and nothing can damage this central integrity.'

They sat at a table in the centre of the club with coffees. Ralph's wife, Margaret, had said she might call in on her way to shopping later, so he wanted nothing that looked hole-in-the-corner. This was a friend-to-friend conversation, friend-to-new-friend, friend-to-engaged-new friend. If she had a damn pash for him he didn't want it causing awkwardness today in the club. It might be possible to work out something else for later.

There were a few members at other tables nearby. Ember liked the way Naomi pulled her lips back over her teeth when she spoke fruity phrases such as ‘vintage armagnac thumps' and the repeated ‘crisis circumstances'. Teeth as teeth in a beautiful girl didn't do all that much for Ralph, but the efficient unveiling of them, then reveiling, only for them to be unveiled again during chat, did buck him up, could have a kind of hypnotic effect on him.

Ralph wondered why someone like this should go for Manse Shale. But, then, Ralph often wondered how lovely women with fine bodies – though a little skinny, in this case – yes, he wondered how such women could get interested in the kind of men they did seem to get interested in, even though he might have made it as obvious as he could that he, personally, would definitely not turn them away short-term. Of course, one reason that sod, Manse, had told her about the obnoxious nickname could be his fear Naomi might get a yen for Ralph: most probably a tactic to diminish him in her sight. Ralph knew well that men, frightened of his definite, very proven, allure, would try all kinds of sly, hurtful tricks to put their women off him. But any female who had seen Charlton Heston as El Cid on the movie channel would regard those tricks as what they were – filthy backbiting.

‘But no, it isn't, wasn't, Unhinged Humphrey that scared me,' she said. ‘Some of the conversation, though – so dark and impenetrable.'

‘Which conversation?'

‘Yesterday. Near the bar.'

‘Whose?'

‘Almost everyone's.'

‘Mine, for instance?'

‘Some of yours, yes,' she said.

‘Well, I'm sorry. We must clear that up.'

‘People talking to conceal, not disclose. A sort of semaphore, but by someone behind a wall.'

This woman possessed cleverness as well as all the rest of it. So how could she think of marrying Manse? Of course, Manse did have the money and the art and the big ex-rectory. These might count, but he didn't think Naomi would be captured by all that. Somehow, Manse had always been able to do a bit of pulling, though. Ralph wondered about women sometimes, or more frequently.

‘So many topics came up – I mean, serious, often terrible, topics – and they'd be on show for a moment but then seemed just to disappear,' she said. ‘Seemed made to disappear.'

‘Oh, I didn't notice that.'

She laughed. ‘Look, it's happening again now, isn't it?' She tried to make her voice gruff and male. ‘“Oh, I didn't notice that.”'

‘I don't follow,' Ember replied, following.

‘You say you didn't notice some comments just sort of . . . sort of got buried. And is this now, today, another blackout?'

‘I think I
would
have noticed something like that.'

‘Well, for instance, Unhinged thought it weird, and more than weird, that you and Manse should be talking chummily about the death of Turret. I asked why, but no answer. Not just no answer – I sensed a feeling around that I shouldn't even have asked why. Way off limits. Suddenly, all the discussion was about Unhinged and whether he'd been grassed.'

‘People tend not to spend much time on ideas coming from Unhinged,' Ralph said. ‘Ideas are not his long suit.' He smiled. ‘His morning suit is his long suit. Sorry! But subjects raised by Unhinged will not occupy people for more than a moment or two.'

‘But what did he mean? He found it unbelievable that you and Manse should be friendly and peaceful with each other “after what happened to Turret”. Words like that – they stick. We know what happened to Turret, but why should this affect your relationship with Manse and vice versa?'

‘About almost any matter Unhinged always has some jumbled theory – if one can call it as much.'

‘Well, I don't know. Patches of lucidity, I thought.'

‘Few.'

‘Then, that man, Brown, speaking about the death of his brother – a terrible, vicious death – and you – you, Ralph – you ignore it and ask about his club and the Monty,' she said.

‘No, I wouldn't say ignored. The talk just flowed that way.'

‘You directed it that way.'

‘Not at all, Naomi. I –'

‘It's important. Why I'm here today.'

‘Because we spoke briefly about the Garrick and the Monty?'

Her tone became super-methodical, super-rational, as if she were expounding a lesson, laying out a theorem to someone backward. ‘I'm supposed to be marrying Manse,' she said ‘Have you got hold of this idea? Not just shagging him, as Unhinged so sweetly and decorously put it.
Marrying
him. A church job. A life job.'

‘Yes, of course. Supposed? I don't understand. I thought it a fact. What's going on?'

‘It is a fact, was a fact.'

‘Which?'

‘I'm not sure. Let me tell you what I got from that conversation yesterday – from what was said, and what wasn't. All right?'

Ember didn't much like this. She had a brain, but no notion of custom and practice here. And if she did come to understand the scene, she probably wouldn't think much of it, or comply with it. ‘From what
wasn't
said?' he muttered. ‘But wow! That puts us on to infinity, doesn't it?'

‘Silences. Evasions. They could be felt. They could be measured. They dominated.'

‘I really can't say I –'

‘Mansel killed Joachim Brown, or had him killed.'

‘What? My God, what?' Ralph detested blaring declarations of the totally obvious, and not just from women. She despised tact. That might be fine and healthy in some settings. This was not one of them.

‘That's the message I got,' she stated.