Sarah Rayne - What Lies Beneath

But as for that part of the voyage that took us to the Turkish coast – I must confess I felt somewhat cheated that I couldn’t enjoy it as I had hoped. Actually, my memories of those weeks are somewhat blurred. I do know the darkness descended on me quite heavily around then, but I also know I was very cunning and I firmly believe I fooled them all. I’ve said earlier in these pages that I was a consummate actor, but when I look back on those days – on the stifling nights in that stuffy cramped cabin – on the hot smell of tar from the decks and the oakum in the huge coils of rope – I do believe I gave a remarkable performance.

Later

After I finished the above entry, I made a search of this place where I’m spending my last days. Quite why I did that, I can’t explain, because I surely know every last inch. The search didn’t take very long, of course, but the curious thing is that I found something, and as God – or the Devil – is my witness, I don’t believe it was there earlier.

There’s a cupboard opening out of this room. A cupboard so almost-seamless and so flush with the wall I never suspected it was there. But an hour ago I laid the flat of my hands on every inch of the walls and moved slowly around them. And halfway along the long wall near my bed I felt a difference in the surface. Seams, joins, lines making up a definite shape. The shape of a door? No, too small. Even so, I explored along the seams until I realized it was a large, deep cupboard.

Believe me, I have examined this room so minutely I wouldn’t have thought so much as a cobweb could have escaped my attention. But this cupboard had escaped it.

It’s roughly four feet high and perhaps two feet wide. Inside it goes back for about two feet, and then there’s just a blank wall. There’s nothing stored inside it, which is slightly surprising. So what is it? And what’s on the other side of that wall at the back? I sat for a long time trying to work this out.

The thought of escaping is so tremblingly fragile an idea I dare not let it take shape in my mind – I certainly dare not commit it to these pages. Not yet… But, oh God, oh God, let there be a way out of here.

There are three and a half days left to me – eighty-four hours – and I’ve decided to fill them by dividing the rest of my story into segments and allotting one or two segments to each day. It’s unbearable to contemplate the prospect of reaching the end of my story with hours – perhaps as much as a day – of life left, and nothing with which to fill the time.

Turkish Coast, 1912

The days on board ship were filled with a variety of things, but for Crispian the worry about their situation overrode everything else.

Jamie, who took a gloomy view of most things, had already said they were in dangerous waters.

‘And I don’t just mean the Aegean Sea,’ he said. ‘I mean this threat of war.’

‘But the Balkan League’s supposed to have settled all the turmoil,’ said Crispian, knowing it had done no such thing.

‘I know, but it’s a very fragile alliance between those countries,’ said Jamie. ‘And any or all of them might decide to wage outright war on the Turks. On the Ottoman Empire. If that happens – if the Ottoman Empire mobilizes its armies – we’ll be trapped out here.’

‘It should be all right,’ said Crispian. ‘They’re turning the ship round today to go back to Athens. The captain thinks it’s too risky to go any further.’

The conversation took place in the ship’s small bar, with Gil lounging in the padded seat under the porthole, drinking what Crispian thought was ouzo. Crispian had been reading the English papers picked up in Rhodes. The papers were a week old, but he was working his way through them because they made him feel in touch with home. He finished The Times ’ potted version of the history of the Ottoman Empire, which the paper’s editor apparently thought its readers would find edifying, and threw the paper down.

‘Personally,’ said Gil, ‘I find the Turkish Empire rather fascinating, never mind The Times ’ correspondent casting thinly veiled aspersions at its decadence. I’m all for a bit of decadence. Sultans and harems and concubines. And you have to admit the silk garments they wear are sumptuous. Very dramatic.’

‘It’ll be dramatic if war does break out between the Balkan States and the Turks,’ said Crispian. ‘Because the Greeks will seize all the islands in the Aegean and they’ll control shipping and we won’t get out.’

‘But who said life was ever meant to be safe?’ enquired Gil, carelessly. ‘I feel definitely drawn to the Turkish culture.’

‘What about the religion?’ said Crispian, half-amused, half-exasperated.

‘I’m a pagan at heart, dear boy, or hadn’t you realized?’ said Gil, reaching for the ouzo bottle again.

‘Their music is rather beautiful,’ said Jamie, picking up The Times and rifling the pages. ‘Byzantine plain-chant and the liturgical rites of the Eastern Orthodox Church. If we do risk putting into any of the Turkish ports, I’d rather like to delve a bit into that.’

‘You’d take that risk, then?’

‘I’m not a risk-taker,’ said Jamie, with his rare, sweet smile. ‘You know that. I’d like to hear some of the music at its source, though.’

Crispian was about to reply when running footsteps came along the deck outside, and Brank, the ship’s doctor, fell gasping into the bar.

‘Dear me,’ said Gil, ‘you’re in more than a usual hurry to get a drink tonight, and in fact—’ He broke off, seeing Brank’s face. ‘What’s wrong?’ he said, and even through his concern for what the doctor might be about to say, Crispian heard how Gil’s voice suddenly sharpened and saw how he sat up straighter.

‘Mr Cadence – it’s Sir Julius,’ said Brank.

‘Ill?’ It was Gil who rapped out the question.

‘Oh God,’ said the doctor, and his hands were trembling. ‘Oh dear God.’

Again it was Gil who moved fastest, going swiftly along the decks to Julius Cadence’s cabin, the other two at his heels. They reached the cabin, and Gil went in. Crispian paused in the doorway, horrified, Jamie behind him. He heard Jamie’s gasp of distress, but he had no room in his mind for anything other than his father.

His father. It took several moments for Crispian to be sure that it actually was Julius Cadence in the room. It was as if a wholly different person crouched in the corner, arms wrapped round its body, head turning from side to side, and a dreadful blank unseeing look in the eyes. Crispian, his mind spinning, thought, This is the worst yet. He doesn’t know any of us – dear God, I don’t think he can even see any of us.

He became aware of the doctor babbling at his side, tripping over his words in his anxiety to explain what had happened.

‘… and I left him on his own for most of the day, I admit I did that, Mr Cadence, Mr Martlet,’ Brank was saying. ‘But he was so tranquil after breakfast, a little sleepy, perhaps, but nothing out of the—’

‘Had you given him bromide this morning?’ said Gil, who had kneeled at Julius’s side. Crispian saw his father give a start of surprise as Gil grasped his hand.

‘Bromide? Yes, it seems to soothe him, make him comfortable. You suggested it yourself,’ said Brank to Gil. ‘You remember how you said a mixture every morning…’ He turned his head as Julius said something in a whisper.

‘What’s he saying?’ said Jamie, still in the door of the cabin.

‘That it’s dark.’ Gil was staring at Julius very intently.

‘Dark,’ said Julius again, and this time the word came out louder. ‘It’s everywhere now. All round me. I knew it was creeping after me – I’ve known it for a long time. But now it’s everywhere. Soon I shan’t be able to breathe for it.’