The Restoration of Otto Laird (5 page)

Angelo was getting into his stride now. It was obvious he had spent time as Otto's apprentice.

‘If Marlowe House has become emblematic of the modern urban nightmare, then that's the result of multiple social and economic factors –
not
the fact that it's made of bloody concrete, whatever the authorities might say. Look at Taylor House, it's becoming a popular place to live. Marlowe House is very similar, physically. The only difference is that it's in a more deprived part of town. If it had been properly maintained by the authorities, and if society hadn't long ago pulled the plug on the poor sods who live there, we wouldn't have a fraction of the problems that exist there today. Don't let the politicians try to push the blame for this onto you, Otto. It's
their
failure – not yours.'

Angelo paused to draw breath, while Otto considered his answer.

‘You have a point,' he conceded. ‘And I'm almost convinced … but I'd still like to know what the residents think.'

Angelo paused. Should he say it now? Why not?

‘There's another reason I've called you back this soon.'

‘Go on,' said Otto, sensing the reticence in Angelo's voice.

‘I got a call this morning' –
say it,
he told himself – ‘from a television director.'

The involuntary sound in Otto's throat might have come from
The Exorcist.

Angelo pressed on.

‘They're launching a new cultural show on television next month. It sounds as if it could be reasonably highbrow.'

Angelo was frantically pushing all the right buttons he could think of, before Otto made that terrible sound again.

‘Chloe, the show's director, thought that the planned demolition of Marlowe House would make an interesting feature for the programme. She lives in Taylor House, as a matter of fact.'

‘Of course she does,' said Otto, darkly.

‘That's how the problem with its twin across London came to her attention. Chloe's lifestyle coach, who lives on the floor above, showed her the story.'

From the snort on the end of the line, Angelo guessed that maybe he shouldn't have added this last piece of information.

‘She was especially interested when I mentioned the appeal, and when I told her that you were taking a personal involvement in the campaign. I must admit to you here, she was surprised to discover you were still alive.'

‘That's understandable,' said Otto. ‘I'm surprised to discover it myself most mornings.'

Good, thought Angelo, he's regained his sense of humour. Now it's time for a touch of flattery.

‘She's been doing some research about you. She said she didn't realise you were such a well-known celebrity during the 1960s.'

‘I exchanged some ideas on contemporary culture with a group of fellow intellectuals, and there happened to be television cameras positioned in the room, if that's what she means,' replied Otto.

Angelo was losing him again. It was the word ‘celebrity' that had done it. He must tailor his vocabulary more to Otto's world-view.

‘She thought it a great shame that you never appear on television any more. She said from what she had seen you had an engaging personality, a brilliant mind and were very “televisual”. Between you and me, I think that means she thought you were
quite the dish
in your younger days.'

Over the years Angelo had gathered a rich treasure trove of phrases from Otto, who sometimes sounded like a living Pathé newsreel. He had recovered one of those phrases for Otto's benefit now.

‘
Do
get on with it,' said Otto, who knew what was coming and had already prepared his answer.

‘She asked some more about you – where you were living, what you were up to these days. And then she asked if you might be interested in appearing in person on the programme.'

At last, thought Otto, before launching into his reply.

‘I don't feel entirely comfortable about appearing on television, as I explained to you yesterday. There are various reasons for this, not the least of which, I've now come to realise, is plain old vanity. I don't particularly want people of an older generation sitting in front of their television screens and saying: “Good God – look what happened to him.”'

At the other end of the line, Angelo smiled.

‘But I've thought it through, since we spoke, and I realise that the media are a necessary evil. If we're going to campaign to save Marlowe House, then we ought to do it properly – not half-heartedly. A slight humiliation in front of a couple of million people would be a small price to pay, if we eventually won. So I'm willing to at least discuss the possibility of doing an interview.'

‘I'm glad to hear it.'

‘Where would she like to do it, if I happened to agree? Here or back in England?'

Now for the difficult part, thought Angelo.

‘Well, a straight “interview” as such is not really what she had in mind. You know what television is like these days. They've lost the taste for talking heads. Producers are always looking for a new angle, something to make their programmes more palatable to the contemporary public.'

A small shiver ran up Otto's spine. What was coming?

‘She said that rather than you simply
talking
about Marlowe House, it might be interesting for you to do something more' – he braced himself to say the next word – ‘
interactive.
'

This was too much for Otto.

‘If she wants me to dress up in costumes and play bloody parlour games she can forget it!'

‘No, nothing like that,' Angelo reassured him. ‘It's quite an inventive idea, really.'

‘Which is?'

‘While she was looking through various clips on YouTube, Chloe found an old documentary you appeared in during the mid-1960s. Do you remember it?'

Oh God – not that, thought Otto, but he replied: ‘It's slipped my mind just now. You'll have to remind me.'

‘When you spent a month living in Marlowe House?'

‘I seem to remember
something…
'

As if he could ever forget.

‘I must admit, I'd never heard about it myself. At just the time when debate was raging about whether or not people wanted to inhabit these “streets in the sky”, they managed to persuade one of Britain's leading young architects to live for a while in a recently built tower block he and his partners had designed. And then they filmed the result. It was a great idea, and you were pretty game to take part.'

I didn't feel I had a great deal of choice, thought Otto, although he managed to summon a low grunt of assent for an answer.

‘Well, Chloe wondered if you might be interested in doing it all again.'

The moment of truth had arrived. Otto paused to consider his response.

‘What about my health?'

‘I told her about that. She was very understanding. They wouldn't expect you to spend a month there now. Not given your age and, well, the crime problem, frankly. Neither Marlowe House nor you are in quite the same shape you were in the mid-1960s. But she wondered if you might be able to do five days. Just walking around, reminiscing … meeting one or two of the residents. It could make for quite a nice piece. And security won't be an issue. They'll hire some people to look after you. What do you think?'

Otto would have been hard pressed to express his exact thoughts at that moment. They were a curious mixture. His innate dislike of appearing on television told against the project, as did his rather unpleasant memories of making the original documentary. It was nothing to do with the residents – they had been fine with him. But he had been unhappy with the final edit of the film, which he felt had been deliberately tailored to make him appear a snob and a hypocrite.

Counteracting these doubts, however, was his curiosity. He hadn't even
seen
Marlowe House for over a quarter of a century, since the last of those summer days at the Oval. More than forty-five years had passed since he had actually stepped inside the place. On balance, therefore, and much to his own surprise, he found himself inclined to say yes.

‘It's not a bad idea,' he said, ‘although much will depend on how it is all put together.'

Angelo gave a small grin of satisfaction as Otto continued, ‘I agree to it in principle, although I'll want to know a little more beforehand about how we approach this and how it will be presented to the public.'

‘Of course. I'll ask Chloe some questions and get back to you.'

‘I'm not saying I wish to exercise editorial control, but at the same time I don't want to be the victim of a stitch-up like before.'

So he does remember. ‘I fully understand.'

‘I want the integrity of the residents protected, too. I don't want any exploitative nonsense that sets out to demonise the people who live there. I know there are problems with crime but I don't want them exaggerated. And I'm really not sure I want to walk around accompanied by a bunch of heavies!'

‘It's something we can discuss. We'll need to talk through the practicalities at a later stage.'

They seemed to be progressing rapidly, although there was still one formidable barrier to overcome. Angelo braved the subject.

‘What about Anika? Will she mind you doing this?'

‘I'm not sure how she'll feel about it, to be perfectly honest. She can be very protective towards me, as you know. Too protective, sometimes. And it's only got more pronounced since the surgery. If anything, she's become convinced that I'm a lot more doddery than I actually am. She'll hardly let me do anything around the house these days. It can be very frustrating.'

‘I'm sure it can, Otto.'

They both sensed the slight embarrassment that had descended. Otto never usually discussed his marriage during conversations with Angelo, perhaps as a consequence of the age difference between the two men. Somehow they had strayed inadvertently onto the topic now.

‘I'll do my best,' Otto concluded brusquely. ‘I'll talk to Anika when she gets back from the tennis club this evening. Will you be in the office again tomorrow? I'll call you then.'

*   *   *

As Otto had suspected, Anika was unhappy about the idea. She pointed her racquet towards him like a long, accusing finger. Did he
want
to kill himself? Was he out of his mind? He had recently undergone three episodes of major surgery, there were days when he was too frail to even leave the house, and now he wanted to do
what?

She paused for a moment, breathing heavily, and then rallied again to an even faster tempo.

Just think of the stress he would be under, away from his routine, in unfamiliar and hostile surroundings – this wasn't the 1950s, London wasn't Switzerland – did he know the dangers? Well, she could tell him a thing or two.
She
still read the English newspapers, even if he chose to avoid them. There were guns in London, nowadays – did he know that?
There were guns.
People used them … all the time. And where exactly was Angelo in all this? He
wanted
him to do it? She had thought that Angelo cared about Otto, who used to be his mentor, after all.

Anika's emotional response – and the pointing racquet of doom – seemed a little over the top to Otto. But her concern for his well-being was genuine enough. He was sorry to have upset her. The storm passed after several minutes, and she apologised. Yet it was clear from the way she fidgeted on the couch that her anxiety hadn't left her.

‘It's only a television documentary,' Otto told her. ‘I'm not joining Special Forces.'

It raised a reluctant smile, and things were a little better after that. He offered her the same reassurances that Angelo had offered him.

‘Two nights in a hotel, followed by four in Marlowe House. What could possibly go wrong? I'll be well looked after.'

But he felt absurd even having to say this.

How did it come to this? he thought, sadly. A few short years ago we were travelling the world together. We were staying in a tent in the Australian Outback when I first noticed that my stomach wasn't quite right. Five years on and she doesn't trust me to survive a week in London.

‘Why do you want to do this, Otto?'

‘I told you. Because it will help the campaign to save the building. It wouldn't be fair of me to expect poor Angelo to do all the work. He's being generous enough as it is.'

She inspected his expression closely. He was reluctant to look her in the eye.

‘No,' she said. ‘There's more to it than that. More than just a sense of fair play or professional pride. There's another reason, a deeper reason, something you're reluctant to explain.'

Dammit, he thought. She's found me out again. It was quite uncanny, this forensic ability to dissect his motives. Beneath her unflinching gaze, he sometimes felt like a disorientated traveller, cowering in the glare of a desert sun.

‘All right,' he said to her. ‘I'll tell you what it is. I need to find a purpose again. I need to feel that I still have something to offer. I'm sick and tired of twiddling my thumbs all day, waiting for a special delivery from the Grim Reaper.'

Anika thought this over.

‘You feel you have no purpose?'

‘I don't. Not any more.'

‘Is this a recent feeling? You've said nothing before.'

‘I'd never really noticed it before. It's not something I've been consciously withholding.'

‘So why now? Why do you suddenly feel this way? We have a lovely life here in Switzerland, the two of us … don't we?'

‘Of course we do. I'm an extremely lucky man. I really couldn't ask for anything more. It's the surgery, I suppose. These aches and pains have brought it home to me. I'm getting old, Anika, time is passing. I don't know how many years I may have left.'