Benjamin Wood - The Ecliptic

‘And how are we supposed to do that exactly?’

‘By getting out of here.’

‘Don’t talk silly.’

‘I’ll write a letter, sneak it in the outgoing post somehow.’

‘You don’t even know if he has a family. You don’t even know his real name.’

‘So what are you saying, Q? Forget about him?’

I had thought, of all people, Quickman would try to reassure me.

‘There’s a bigger picture, you know,’ was his response. ‘Think about what you’re suggesting.’ He had brought the pipe out of his pocket, slotting it into his teeth. ‘You have to remember that he did this to himself. He made his choice. That might sound very cold-hearted, but, I’m sorry, that’s just how I see it. The provost has a point.’

‘So you’re caving in now, too. Terrific.’

‘Think about it, Knell. He’s one boy. One out of God knows how many. You’re really going to let him run this place into the ground? That isn’t what he wanted.’

My mind would not be changed as easily as Quickman’s, but I could not blame him for his second thoughts. He was the one who had found the boy in the bathtub, after all, and he had earned the right to view things however he wished. It was the provost whom I could not forgive. There had been an eerie calmness about his behaviour that morning, in the height of our emergency. Both he and Ardak had followed me out of the mansion, running back to the boy’s lodging; Ardak had sprinted ahead of me, but the provost had lagged behind, barely jogging, his old doctor’s bag gripped under one arm. In the bathroom, he had genuflected at the sight of Fullerton on the tiles. He had removed a stethoscope from the bag and placed the metal cup against the boy’s chest, allowing an empty moment to go by.

‘Anything?’ Q had asked, though he must have known the answer.

The provost had shaken his head. He had checked Fullerton’s distended eyes with a torch and closed the boy’s lids in the thoughtless way you might shut the clasps on a briefcase. ‘I’m afraid he’s gone,’ he had said. ‘We’ll have to bury him right away’ He had turned to give Ardak some instructions in Turkish. ‘Adamı denize atabilir misin?’

‘Karanlık olmadan atmalıyız ’ Ardak had replied, shrugging. ‘Ben botu hazırlarım ’

‘What are you going to do with him?’ Quickman had said.

‘Well, we can’t keep him on the grounds, that’s for certain. It’s much too risky’ The provost had stuffed the instruments back inside his doctor’s bag. ‘Ardak thinks we ought to put him out to sea. I’ll have to check with the trustees, but I think that’s probably safest.’

‘You can’t just dump him in the Marmara.’

The provost had stood up, towering over me. ‘Knell, we have to be pragmatic about this.’ He had rolled his good eye downwards. ‘It wouldn’t be the first funeral we’ve held here — people get sick, and we can’t always treat them if they refuse to go to hospital. There’s a procedure.’ He had spoken to Ardak again. ‘ Yaşlı adamdan yardım al ’ Then he had dusted off his hands and said to us, ‘I have to make some calls. Excuse me.’

Are you going to talk to his sponsor?’ My voice had sounded so puny. ‘His family needs to be told.’

The provost had inhaled deeply. ‘I’m not sure that’s in anyone’s best interest.’

‘Of course it is.’

‘You can’t honestly be suggesting that we go on as normal,’ Quickman had said.

The provost had slung his bag over his shoulder. ‘I know you two were friends of his. But what do you think would happen if I told his sponsor? The news is bound to leak — we can’t control what sponsors say or do — and we’d have a thousand people banging on these gates, asking all kinds of questions. We’d be shut down before the season’s out. I’m sorry, I won’t put the refuge in jeopardy like that, for anyone.’

Quickman had looked bewildered, even sickened, and I had thought he would share my anger towards the provost forever. ‘So what do you propose we do, sir?’ he had asked.

‘Follow procedure. That’s all there is to it.’

Ardak had called from the doorway: ‘ Bunin için ekstra ödeme gerekir beyefendi. ’

The provost had nodded back at him emphatically. Then, shuffling towards us with an air of appeasement, he had said, ‘Nobody wants it to happen this way. But it’s one of the eventualities we all have to prepare for. You understood the risks when you both came here.’

And so, at the end of the miserable afternoon, the boy was tossed into the sea like fish guts, and I was left with a deadness in my belly, a shame that I feared might never subside. The provost’s eulogy had rung hollow. I wished that I could have spoken in his place, but I was not invited to, and what exactly would I have said? Aside from a few personal things the boy had shared with me — about recurring dreams, and Japanese scribblings, and listening to old records at his grandfather’s house — I had no great insight into his life. He was not someone who deserved to be spoken about in half measures.

The dour sky was darkening still. I held on to the crook of Mac’s elbow and she steered us off the escarpment. The mansion surfaced above the treeline: what an ugly grey hulk it was in the drizzle, what a mangy old dump. Nazar scurried by us, bounding through the scrub. ‘I guess it’s feeding time,’ Pettifer said from behind. ‘At least some of us are thinking clearly, eh?’

‘Shut up, Tif,’ Mac said.

‘Just trying to raise a smile.’

We were only yards from the clearing where my mushrooms grew — they were just beyond the coppice to my left, and my chest tightened at the thought of them.

As we came through the pines, I saw the provost waiting in the mulch by the studio huts. I did not want to speak to him, but he was loitering in an official way, as though he had some form awaiting a signature. Nazar ran to him, circled his feet, sniffing. He was without an umbrella. ‘Go around him,’ I told Mac.

‘You sure?’

She tried to veer away, but he moved to intercept us. ‘Can you spare a moment?’ he said. ‘Both of you.’

Tif and Quickman were just a few strides behind.

‘What’s going on over at the house right now?’ Q asked.

‘I’ve asked Gülcan to make her special köfte ,’ the provost replied, ‘in honour of the boy. You don’t have to join us if you aren’t feeling up to it. It’s been a very long day.’

‘His appetite’s taken a hit,’ Tif said. ‘But I’m keen.’

‘As you wish.’ There was an awkward pause. ‘Well, if I might borrow the ladies for a moment?’

‘They’re not ours to lend,’ said Quickman.

‘It’s all right,’ I said.

They left us alone, and Nazar hurried after.

The provost waited for them to be out of earshot. He folded his arms. ‘You know, I was beginning to wonder if the trustees really understand how this place functions. But, in your case, MacKinney, they’ve proven me wrong.’

‘I’m not following you, sir.’

‘It seems our appeals have been heard, after all. They’re going to let you stay.’

‘Are you serious? Oh, that’s — oh, my goodness, thank you,’ she said.

‘I’m just glad they came to their senses.’ He scraped the mulch off his shoe. ‘I’ve taken the liberty of cancelling tonight’s reading. Hope you don’t mind.’

‘We would’ve cancelled it anyway,’ Mac said. ‘Given the circumstances. But, really, sir — thank you.’

‘I knew you’d understand.’

‘Can I keep the same room?’

‘I don’t see why not.’ He peered towards the mansion. ‘Unless you’d prefer to change. I wouldn’t want to hold you there against your will.’