Sarah Rayne - What Lies Beneath

Gil was still holding Julius’s hand between his own. ‘You’re all right, sir,’ he said. ‘Quite safe. We’re here. Tell me what you’re feeling? Are you in any pain?’

‘I always feared the darkness,’ said Julius as if Gil had not spoken, and began to rock to and fro like a child in pain. Crispian had the impression that his father was not talking to any one of them. ‘It’s followed me for so long. Like a thick black shadow. Like a monstrous bruise hiding in corners, waiting to pounce.’

Crispian went to kneel on his other side. He said, ‘Father – it’s me. Crispian.’

Gil said, very softly, ‘I don’t think he can see you. Can’t you tell that?’ He leaned closer to Julius again, moving a hand back and forth in front of his eyes. ‘You see?’ he said. ‘No response at all.’

‘Father—’

‘Uncle Julius—’

Crispian and Jamie spoke together, then stopped.

Gil said, very gently, ‘There’s no point in talking to him, either.’

‘Why?’

‘I don’t know exactly what’s happened,’ said Gil, ‘but it’s my guess that the disease has finally touched a vital spot in his brain – perhaps given him a seizure.’ He sat back on his heels, and incredibly Crispian saw the glint of tears in his eyes. ‘The poor sod,’ he said softly. ‘Whatever happened, it’s rendered him blind and deaf.’

Eventually they managed to reach Julius by means of tracing letters on the palm of his hand to form words that made up simple sentences.

It was Gil who suggested this. ‘I should have thought of it for myself,’ said Crispian, half angrily.

‘No you shouldn’t,’ said Gil. ‘I’m the one with medical training.’ He glanced angrily at Brank. ‘I saw it done once at Guy’s. It was a different disease, but the patient became blind and deaf in much the same way. But I think it works only if there’s some spark of understanding left, and if Sir Julius has had a stroke… Still, we can try.’

Slowly and with infinite patience, Gil traced a series of words on the palm of Julius Cadence’s hand. Short, simple words, reassurance, questions. Friends here … Any pain? Can help …

It seemed to Crispian that it was hours before his father showed any understanding of what Gil was doing, but then gradually, as if the darkness he had described was dissolving, he turned his head in Gil’s direction. When Gil again traced out the word ‘pain’, then sketched a question mark, he nodded.

‘Head hurts,’ he said.

Crispian, watching closely, thought Gil spelled out, Can help .

‘I’ll fetch something for the pain,’ said Brank, clearly relieved to have an excuse to leave the cabin.

Gil relaxed. ‘I think there might be a faint glimmer of sight remaining,’ he said to Crispian and Jamie, who were both watching. ‘But it’s impossible to know for sure unless we test him with strong light straight onto his face. And at the moment he’s so confused and frightened, that would be inhuman. Crispian, I’m so sorry.’ He put out a hand to Crispian, and Crispian, scarcely realizing what he was doing, took it.

‘Could it improve?’ he said.

‘I don’t know.’ Gil released his hand quite naturally and gently and, as the doctor came back, said, ‘What’s the qualified opinion, Brank? Will this improve?’

‘Honestly, I’ve no idea. I’ve never encountered this before.’

‘You’re a ship’s doctor,’ said Gil, with an edge to his voice. ‘Swashbuckling across the seven seas with lust-filled sailors. I’d have expected you to come across syphilis quite often.’

‘Yes, I have, but I’ve never seen it in this advanced stage,’ said Brank. He was looking at Julius. ‘If we had more medical equipment on board to perform tests we might find out a bit more. As things are, there’s not much we can do.’

‘What’s that you’ve brought him?’

‘A double dose of the bromide with an opiate in it.’

After a few unsuccessful attempts, Crispian managed to close his father’s fingers round the glass and guide it to his mouth. He was relieved that his father seemed to understand he was meant to drink.

‘What do we do?’ said Crispian, as they went out of the cabin, leaving Julius lying on the narrow bunk sliding into a drugged sleep.

‘First, we head for the whisky,’ said Gil, leading the way back to the passengers’ lounge and reaching for the bottle and three glasses. ‘I don’t know about you two, I intend to get drunk.’ He poured the whisky and sat down. ‘Actually, I think all we can do is not look too far ahead.’

‘You think he might come out of this?’

‘It’s not out of the question. But someone will have to be with him almost constantly. Throughout the day, at any rate.’

‘We can arrange that,’ said Crispian.

‘We’ll work out a rota,’ said Jamie. ‘What about the nights?’

‘If he has a good measure of bromide around ten o’clock each evening he should sleep the sleep of the innocent for hours,’ said Gil. ‘If that drunken old fool Brank won’t administer it, I’ll break into his surgery and mix it myself.’

‘I’ll help you, if you have to do that,’ said Jamie, and Crispian shot him a grateful look.

‘At least that would mean we could all have an ordinary night’s sleep,’ said Gil. ‘But I think one of us had better move into the cabin next door, so there’s always someone at hand.’

‘I’ll do that,’ said Crispian at once. ‘I’ll get my things moved at once. It will only be for the next two weeks, anyway, then we’ll be at Athens. There’ll be a good hospital there and a British Embassy.’

For the next two nights the arrangement worked well. Crispian was intensely grateful to Jamie and Gil, who shared in the often pitiful, but frequently tedious, task of looking after Julius during the day. His mental state immediately following the seizure had been fairly good – he seemed to understand what Gil called the skin-writing, and answered questions put that way quite sensibly. But after two days he seemed to become suddenly more helpless and dependent; it was necessary to wash and dress him, feed him, and, at suitable intervals, take him to the small water closet, which was shared by them all. There were long periods when he simply lay on his bunk, staring up at nothing, and it was impossible to know what he was thinking.

‘Or even,’ said Gil, ‘if he’s thinking at all.’ He looked at Crispian. ‘He’s withdrawing into some dark world of his own,’ he said. ‘I don’t think we can bring him back now, Crispian. I think this is the start of the end.’

It was Jamie who cut up small squares of different fabrics and put them in Julius’s hands so he could feel the different textures.

‘It was just an idea I had for him,’ he said to Crispian, a note of apology in his eyes. ‘Have you noticed that since the seizure he seems to like the feel of the silk scarf he always wears to cover the… that he always likes to wear? So I thought since the sense of touch is probably the only sense still remaining to him…’

‘I hadn’t noticed,’ said Crispian. ‘And I should have done. Thank you, Jamie.’

Jamie’s brown eyes were sympathetic. ‘Crispian, we’ll cope. Until we reach Athens, we’ll cope somehow.’

‘I must have been mad to bring him out here in the first place,’ said Crispian, with an impatient gesture. ‘But I honestly thought it was the right thing to do. I thought we needed to be safe from prying eyes, inquisitive newspapermen who’d want to tell the world that the head of Cadences Bank was—’ He shook his head angrily. ‘But I didn’t expect this development.’

‘None of us did,’ said Jamie. ‘And of course it was the right thing to do. We all agreed on it. Old Martlet agreed – your mother agreed. And you couldn’t risk Cadences. If the newspapers had once found out… I understand why you did it and if your father was his normal self, he’d understand it, as well.’