The Soul Room (5 page)

Although Dan was my younger brother by five years, there was something
about him that made everyone think he was the eldest. No doubt it was partly
because he was so much taller than me, and saturnine, with eyes so brown that
in certain lights you couldn’t see where the pupil ended and the iris began. He
was handsome in an old fashioned way, as if he should smoke a pipe and wear
brogues – and sometimes he did, just to be different. People rarely realised he
was gay, and anyway, as he always said, ‘I’m not gay, I’m queer.’ He was right
too. He wasn’t lively, or jolly. He was by turns quiet or savagely satirical. I
would watch him at parties – half in shamed suspense, half in grudging
admiration. His ‘Modus Operandi’ would be to sit in a corner in some god-awful
tank top, puffing away on a pipe, and let the campness spill over him. He would
remain silent and impassive, drink solidly and seamlessly (but never get drunk)
and then at the end of the party he would come out with something awfully,
cuttingly, hideously true and embarrassing about someone there. But it would
also be so hilarious and well-observed that he’d get away with it. ‘Oh Dan!’
someone would screech, and then he’d be the centre of attention. Conversely he
also had a streak of intense compassion. He’d made his name writing screenplays
about people in trouble. Drug addicts, prostitutes, Asylum seekers. And they
succeeded because someone had trusted him. Someone had spilled the beans and
told their story, and he, with his chocolate and gravel voice, had made them
feel that he believed in them, admired their courage.

Nicholas and Dan were chalk and cheese and arguments were affectionate,
dramatic and frequent. Nicholas was much more sanguine about life and got
pleasure from simple things, like going to the gym, walking along the beach,
and eating good food. In that sense he was good for Dan, and grounded him. And
I suppose you could say that Dan was good for him, and led him to have some
experiences and adventures he otherwise wouldn’t have had. As I rang their
doorbell though, I wondered if Nick had had enough of adventures.

He answered the door quickly, he looked tired and dishevelled. After a
big hug he led me down the hall and into their big stylish kitchen.

'I found this, I was clearing up and found it on the floor, I think it
may have fallen down the back of the radiator. He held out a note. ‘What do you
think it means Maddie?’

He passed it to me, his hand was shaking slightly. I opened it and
recognised Dan's handwriting.

There’s something I have to do. I’ll be back by my birthday. Sorry
Nicky, I love you.
‘God knows. Maybe something to do with his next
project?’

‘Why does he have to be so fucking mysterious? He always was a drama
queen.’ Nicholas moved to the window, his shoulders hunched, taking big gulps
of his vodka and tonic.

‘I don’t know Nick, I really don’t. He was a sweet little boy, quaint,
almost odd sometimes, but he wasn’t a troublemaker. Whatever it is it must be
important to him, we’re just going to have to work it out.’

Nicholas sat back down opposite me and rubbed his face. ‘Maybe he just
doesn’t love me any more?’

‘It’s not that, I know it’s not that. He loves you very much.’

‘It just doesn’t feel right. I told the police it didn’t feel right, but
people go missing like this every day. Sometimes they’ve just had enough of the
life they are living and disappear like a puff of smoke.’ He sniffed then wiped
his eyes with his thumb and forefinger and looked away. ‘If he is just being a
piss artist, I’ll fucking kill him this time Maddie, I really will.’

‘What was he doing on the day he disappeared?. Did he have anything
arranged?’

‘Not much as far as I know, he had something on the back-burner about
families that had become estranged from each other. He was talking to some TV
people about making it into a series where a family therapist tries to reunite
them. I think he might have had a meeting with them in the morning. The police
are looking into it. All he took was our small suitcase, the one on wheels,
some clothes – none of his warm clothes though – his laptop, Dictaphone, and
his
bloody
pipe
.’

I suddenly felt a bit queasy. ‘Do you think I could have a drink?’ Until
that point I’d really hoped that this was just another of Dan’s stunts. But it
was feeling less and less likely. Something must be behind it.

‘Tea or coffee or something stronger?’

‘Oh no, I don’t think I could manage that. Do you have something herbal?
Chamomile or something?’

‘Do I have herbal?!’ Nick pulled a mock-horror face. ‘Of course I have
herbal! Cinnamon and Apple, Blackcurrant, Ginseng and Mandarin, Peppermint,
Fennel or
Chamomile
.’

‘God Nick, sometimes you’re camp as fuck. Chamomile please.’ He grinned
apologetically and shuffled in his trendy leather slippers to the kitchen. Then
the doorbell rang. ‘Can you get that.’ Nick shouted down the hall.

Like a character in a TV show, I knew he was a policeman as soon as I saw
him. It was something about the way he was simultaneously self-possessed and
ill-at-ease as he stood on the doorstep. The suit spoke of someone who hated
wearing suits, who had no idea what kind of suit would
suit
him, but had
to wear one nonetheless. Other than that he was pretty nondescript. Heavily
built, average height, middle-aged. He looked at me, momentarily taken aback,
then collected himself.

‘Detective Sergeant Nickelby.’ He said a little gruffly. I shouted down
the hall and Nick appeared, wiping his hands on a tea towel.

‘Nicholas?.’ Said the detective.

‘Nickelby?.’ said Nick.

There was a big sigh from the detective.

I couldn’t resist. How long did it take, Detective Nickelby?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘For you to get a case with a Nicholas in?’

‘Six years.’ He answered matter-of-factly.

Nick bit his lip but ushered the Detective in politely ‘I’m really sorry,
I completely forgot you were coming. I’ve just put the kettle on though
Detective Nickelby. Can I get you anything?’

‘Coffee, with one teaspoon of sugar and two teaspoons of coffee. I was
called out at 3am this morning and haven’t been home yet.’ He sat down opposite
me on the sofa and looked at me morosely. ‘You’re Madeleine. Mr Armstrong’s
younger sister.’ It was a statement. Not a question.

‘Older sister, but sister yes. How did you know?’

He nodded slowly. ‘I’ve seen your picture. When we looked round the flat.
You’ve been in Italy?’

‘Yes, for the last few months. I’ve been designing and creating a garden
for an old family friend.’

Nick appeared with the drinks and a plate of biscuits. ‘I’ve found
something, a note from Dan.’ He took the note off the tray and handed it over.
The detective raised his eyebrows, took a pair of glasses out of his inside
jacket pocket and looked it over.

‘When did you find this?’

‘Just this morning. He must have propped it up on the table and it had
blown down the back of the radiator. I found it on the floor when I was
cleaning.’

‘He says he’ll be back for his birthday, when is his birthday?’

‘On the 17
^th
, next month.’

‘You still haven’t heard anything?’

‘Nothing.’

‘How old will he be?’

’30, it’s his 30
^th
.’

‘So it’s an important birthday too?’

‘Yes, I had a…’ Nick looked away momentarily and swallowed hard, ‘…I had
a party planned. I called it off at the weekend.’

‘Due to the time elapsed we had switched to treating this case as a
missing persons. But in light of this note, and Mr Armstrong’s past history his
case will have to go onto the back-burner. If he isn’t back by his birthday as
he promises in his note call me again.’ Detective Nickelby started to gather
his things together and made to get up. I reached over and put my hand on his
arm.

‘Please, we’re all really worried. I can see that this note changes
things for you, but we’re his family and we feel that something is wrong.
Doesn’t that count for something?’

‘In the vast majority of missing persons, especially amongst his age
range, the people just turn up again – days, weeks, months, sometimes even
years later. For most people there’s been some kind of breakdown, something
that’s triggered a cataclysmic event. The best thing you can do is look into
whether anything has happened to depress or upset him recently?’

‘Oh God, everything in the world depressed Dan.’ said Nick, waving his
arm to demonstrate the breadth of it. ‘He was the champion of the shat on, the
exploited, the abused. He dealt with those kind of horrors every day.’

‘Maybe it all finally got too much…and he just had to get away?’

Nick went over to the window, hugging himself tightly, and leant against
the glass.

‘And he did. Regularly. But this is different.’

‘My brother has gone without warning before, but never for more than a
few days. And he’s always made sure someone has known where he was in the end.
And what’s this
important
thing he has to do? Something or someone has
happened to him and it can’t be good.’

‘That may be Miss Armstrong, but at this stage there really is nothing
else we can do. I can only assure you that if he goes a day or two past his
birthday and doesn’t get in touch, we will take his case very seriously.’

‘And what would happen then?’

‘We’d try to identify who was the last person to see him and interview
them. We’d also get details to Crimestoppers and of course the Missing Person’s
Bureau. His image will go on our National Database, and police all over the
country will look out for him. We might even get something on regional TV. I’ll
also need to arrange to take a formal statement from you Miss Armstrong. Of
course we’ve already checked all the local hospitals, but we’ll do that again
too, just to make sure. We ruled out some kind of homophobic attack quite early
on as he would have turned up in Casualty pretty quickly. Also, well, he
doesn’t…
look
particularly gay…if you know what I mean?’

As my key turned
in the lock the phone inside my flat started to ring. I threw my shopping bags
onto an arm chair and managed to answer the call just before it rang off.

‘
Tsoro
!’ Hearing Sergio’s voice, as always, I remembered what it
was like to be in Italy, the heat, the smells, the vibrations of insects. It
would be getting colder there now too though. Nothing like the cold of
Brighton, but the warmth would be softer, starting to cool in the afternoon. I
was surprised by how much I missed Terranima, how much I missed
him
.

‘Sergio,
Come stai
?’

‘
Bene, grazie
. Any news on Dan?’

‘We’ve still heard nothing from him. Nicholas found a note, but it
doesn’t say where he’s gone or why, just that he’ll be back for his birthday.’

‘That is soon?’

‘Yes, the 17
^th
, but police won’t do anything until then,
although they’ve tried their best to be helpful.’

‘You must be so worried,
Tsoro
, I hope you are getting plenty of
rest?’

‘I’m fine, really, you don’t need to worry about me. I’m going to have a
nice big glass of wine and cook some dinner then get an early night.’

He laughed, ‘No, no need to worry about you. You are so strong you know.
You are
Super
Maddie
!’

‘God, hardly.’

‘Do you think Dan might have been coming to see you in Terranima?’

‘If he was, surely he would have let me know. Why the smoke and mirrors?’

‘
Prego
?’

‘Sorry, I mean why would he need to be so mysterious?’

‘Yes, you’re right.’

‘Hey,’ I put the phone in the crook of my neck and went to the fridge,
there was a half-finished bottle of wine in the door, ‘enough about me, how are
you?’ I up-ended a washed wine glass from the night before and poured myself a
drink. ‘You sound a bit…I don’t know…a bit far away.’

‘I am ok. Maybe, maybe I feel a little scared.’

‘Scared? why darling?’

‘I don’t know.’ He paused; I heard a rustling. ‘I think maybe I don’t
know about my future.’

‘Why are you worrying about that….’ I was cut off by the sound of the
doorbell. ‘I’m sorry Sergio, there’s someone at the door.’

‘That is ok, I will call in a couple of days.’

‘Are you sure you’re ok?’

‘Yes, yes, of course.’

When I opened the door I was surprised and rather pissed off to see it
was Detective Nickelby. It looked like he was wearing the same suit as he had
two days ago – though significantly more crumpled.

‘Your neighbour was just coming back from the Chinese, she let me in.’

‘Detective Nickelby.’ I looked at my watch: ‘it’s nearly nine.’

‘I left a message on your answer phone saying I might call.’

‘I’ve only just got in, I’ve not had time to listen to them.’

‘So I gather.’

‘Well you’d better come in anyway.’ I stood back for him. He had a light,
silent step for a heavily built man, and held himself very upright. Again, I
thought, that strange mixture of confidence and self-consciousness.

‘Will you have a glass of wine Detective Nickelby?’ He looked at me very
directly. For the first time I noticed that his eyes were a vivid green; and
despite the overall impassivity of his demeanour they had a sparkle of
intelligence.

‘Well as I’m off duty after this, and I’m not driving, and I’ve spent the
last fourteen hours helping to keep the streets of our fair city safe, I will.
Yes.’

‘Detective Nickelby, you’re almost as dry as this wine.’ The faintest
hint of a smile hitched up the corners of his mouth.

‘There’s no need for the ‘Detective’.

‘
Mr
Nickelby then?’

‘John will do.’ He loosened his tie, took off his crumpled jacket and sat
down with a sigh. He pushed his shirt-sleeves up a little and flexed his hands,
his forearms were as thick as a labourer’s and his shirt strained against his
broad back.