Benjamin Wood - The Ecliptic

On an island as exposed as Heybeliada, the rain did not fall, it rioted. The wind carried it across the lawns of Portmantle in shivers, churning up the dirt-soil in the flowerbeds, bullying the pines until their topmost branches cowered. It had strength like no rain I had ever encountered, a swell, a rage, a constancy. And the provost’s dog knew better than to go out in it. She lay on the front steps, one paw below her snout, observing the havoc being wreaked upon the grounds — in better weather, she could have been out there, digging and rolling, but instead she was obliged to keep me company on the portico. ‘I don’t know what you’re whimpering about,’ I told her. ‘We’re both waiting.’

The provost had left us, momentarily, to make a phone call in his study. His little cup of Türk kahvesi was still steaming on the wicker table and the last bar on the heater was just firing up. He must only have been gone a few minutes, but I could not shake the feeling that the entire morning was draining off into the sluice, and that he would not be coming back to resume our discussion at all. We had hardly begun talking before Ender had arrived in the doorway, mumbling something in Turkish; the provost had checked his pocket watch, holding it close to his good eye, and excused himself. ‘Don’t go anywhere,’ he had said. ‘This won’t take a moment.’

I knew that he had returned to Portmantle in the night because his dog’s unmistakable yapping had awoken me. For such a small animal, she had the shrillest bark, a yelp that rose and dropped away like an aggravated hiccup. I had gone up to the mansion just after dawn to catch the provost on his coffee break. No matter what the season, he always took his coffee outdoors, in that spot of quietude before the guests emerged for breakfast and the day moved into gear. This was the surest way to get his full attention without having to go through the rigmarole of arranging an official appointment.

The sight of the rain had almost kept me in my studio, but I had unfurled the hood from my collar and braved the worst of it. I had gone no further than a few yards before my shoes began to squelch. At the mansion, I had found the provost’s wax jacket hanging in the lobby and his green umbrella touch-dry in the stand, so I knew for sure that he was home. Next thing, the old dog had scurried into view, followed by two very ponderous feet descending the staircase. I could not have mistaken those Ottoman slippers or the flimsy bamboo rod as it clacked against the banister posts. ‘Is that Knell, up with the lark?’ the provost had said, reaching the hallway.

‘It is, sir. How was your trip?’

‘None too satisfying, I’m afraid.’

He was such a tall man that when he walked under the lampshade it swayed mildly in his wake and the closeness of the light burnished his forehead. He had a bulk of grey-white hair that sat upon his crown, aslant, and two deep runnels flanked his mouth like designs worked into leather. We guessed that he was no younger than sixty, though he had the smooth-skinned hands of someone half that age. He was stone-blind in his left eye and he compensated for this with the use of the cane and the help of Nazar, a mongrel stray that he had trained into an apathetic guide-dog. There was an educated air about him that often edged towards the pompous, but he was much too deferent to the residents and their talents to ever be accused of conceitedness. For the sake of formality — and because his name was held back from us — we addressed him as ‘Provost’ or ‘sir’, and every time we did, his features twitched a little.

‘Step out with me,’ he had said. ‘Gülcan’s bringing my coffee. If I’m lucky, she’ll read my grounds and tell me I’m going to live a long and happy life.’

‘It’s raining quite hard out there.’

‘I know. Isn’t it perfect?’

We had taken our places on the creaking wicker furniture: he upon the cushioned swing-seat at the east wing of the portico, with his enormous legs awkwardly crossed, and I on a low chair opposite. The dog had circled several times before settling at his heels. ‘So — what’s on your mind?’

‘Who said anything was on my mind?’

He had rubbed the pale dog-hairs from his trousers. ‘You only come to see me this early when you’ve got a bone to pick. That’s a good phrase, isn’t it? Bone to pick. ’

‘Yes, sir, it is.’ I had steeled myself, not wanting to waste time. ‘There are a couple of things, actually, that I thought you should know about.’

‘Are you listening to this, Nazar?’ He had reached to pat the dog. ‘Didn’t I tell you we should’ve stayed in bed today? The complaints are coming in already.’ He had leaned back, smiling. ‘Go on. Let’s take them one at a time.’

‘First of all, there’s Fullerton.’

‘Yes, I heard about that.’ He had steepled his fingers and pressed them to his lips. Then he had caught sight of Gülcan arriving behind me and his focus had shifted. He had spoken to her in Turkish and she had said something back, laughing as she handed him the dainty white cup and saucer, and by the time they were finished conversing the provost appeared to have forgotten the thread of our discussion. ‘I don’t know what else you expect me to say.’

‘Well, for a start, I think you might have underestimated the amount of supervision he needs. Last night, I found him sleeping in my closet. He was completely nude.’

‘This was after the incident at dinnertime?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘I see.’ He had deliberated on this information, rocking in the seat. ‘Rest assured, I’ll be paying a visit to the boy today. It was always my intention to introduce myself this afternoon. If he has caused you any bother in my absence, I can only offer you my apologies, Knell, and my gratitude. I hope it hasn’t been too much of a distraction.’

The provost was known for the stubbornness of his diplomacy, and I had anticipated this type of response. ‘It’s not that he’s a bother. Not in the least. I’m just concerned for him, that’s all. He needs more help than I can give him. He’s suffering quite badly, I think, and I don’t know if things are working out very well for him here.’

‘The boy can judge that for himself.’

‘We talked a bit last night, about dreams he was having. Did you know about those?’

‘Really, Knell, you mustn’t feel it’s your job to counsel him. I’m back now, and I’ll see to it that he’s adequately looked after.’

‘But did you know about the dreams?’

‘Of course.’

‘You should have told us. I mean, if we’d known, we could’ve made things easier for him.’

‘There is nothing you or anyone could have done. I’ll be straight with you: I wasn’t told how much the dreams affected him, but I am fully in the picture now. I have spoken again, rather seriously, with his sponsor this morning, and I can assure you that we have everything under control. I must say, I’m surprised that you’d expect me to discuss the boy’s private information. He may be young, but he’s entitled to exactly the same courtesies as everyone else under this roof. Would you like it if I talked to Gluck about your difficulties, or Crozier?’

‘Who’s Crozier?’

‘Our Italian guest.’

‘Oh. Him. No, of course not.’ In all my time at the refuge, I had never found the provost’s even-handedness so deeply aggravating. ‘Still, sir, you have to admit that his behaviour is a concern.’

He had glowered at me then. ‘I thought if anything would be a concern, it would be MacKinney’s situation.’

‘She’s next on my list.’

‘I see.’ He had bent to ruffle the dog’s ears and nuzzle her head. ‘Stay in bed, I said. Have a lie-in, I said. But you wouldn’t listen, would you, scamp? Now look at the trouble you’ve got us into.’ When he looked up again, his smile had vanished. ‘Knell, don’t worry. There is nothing the matter with the boy. His dreams are part of his creative process — that’s all you need to know. Frankly, I’m only entertaining this conversation because you have his best interests at heart, but you must allow me to handle it beyond this point.’ The water had kept on clubbing the roof above our heads, battering the mansion walls. ‘Goodness. This rain.’ The provost had turned to admire it. ‘Doesn’t sound like this on the mainland, you know. It has a different kind of music altogether. Makes the heart beat stronger, coming home to rain like this.’