Lynda Plante - The Talisman

Dewint opened the front door, and looked aghast as Alex stepped in. ‘I’m afraid, sah, Mr Edward... he has company, sah.’ He told Alex that Harriet and Jinks had gone off to spend a few weeks in Yorkshire. But Alex would not be put off.

‘Tell him I am here, would you, Dewint, and I have no intention of leaving.’

Alex looked into the lounge; the room was a mess. Bottles were strewn everywhere, dirty glasses. From somewhere in the house he could hear music. Then he heard Edward’s voice, shouting, telling Dewint he didn’t want to see anyone. Alex strolled back to the hall door and saw two scruffy tarts being hustled out by Dewint. He sighed, about to turn away, then froze.

Edward appeared, unshaven, his eyes red-rimmed. Alex could smell him a mile off, and he was reeling drunk. He started shouting, incoherently, then slumped on to the sofa. Alex calmed him down and tried to talk to him, begging him to rest. He was sure Edward was an alcoholic, but he just could not fathom out what had caused the change. He seemed hell-bent on destroying everything they had built up.

‘Why, Edward, in God’s name, what is the matter with you? Just as everything is going so well... Are you ill? Is that what all this is about?’

Edward stared at him without replying, then began to pick up empty bottles.

‘You need a doctor? You carry on this way you will destroy everything we’ve built up together.’

‘Together? Don’t be so fucking crass, you an’ me aren’t together, you line your own pockets like every other bastard I come into contact with... fuck off, leave me alone!’

Alex sat down, tried to keep his voice calm. He played for time, his mind reeling, wondering what Edward had discovered. ‘Maybe that’s your fault... you see, every time I think I can trust you, I find out something that makes me more wary of you than ever... what the hell have you got going in South Africa?’

Edward sneered at him, poured himself another drink. ‘Whatever I’ve got going keeps you out of the shit, so why worry... I’ll go to prison, not you, haw haw haw.’

Alex wanted to shake him, hit him, but he gritted his teeth and tried once more to discover what Edward was working on in South Africa. ‘Is it legal, just tell me...?’

Edward laughed, a boozed, humourless laugh. Then he switched on the stereo so loud that it was pointless to continue.

He watched Edward as he moved around the room, trying to dance to the music. It was pitiful. Alex closed the door and switched off the stereo as the music ended, determined to talk things through. Edward smiled at him, fumbled in his pocket. ‘Look, I’ve been making out my will. You get the lion’s share, on condition you take care of Harry and Jinks. Christ, look, I’ll come clean — I am bored, understand? I am so bored, and... and I packed them off to Yorkshire. I’m thinking of upping and leaving, you know... Oh, you won’t understand, I get these feelings inside of me and... I feel trapped here, I’m trapped.’

Alex read the will. Sure enough, Edward had left him everything apart from some legacies to Harriet and Jinks. He looked up as Edward poured himself another drink. ‘Here, take it back. And if you want some advice, grow up. You’ve been a selfish bastard all your life — just for a change, think about Harry, about Jinks, and what they’d do without you.’

‘Think about them? Jesus Christ, I spend my whole life worrying about her and the kid... Well, I can’t take it, it’s like living with a bloody time-bomb — I never know when she’s going to blow. Have you any idea what it’s like...’

‘Getting yourself drunk won’t help matters. Maybe you should take a holiday, you’ve pushed yourself to breaking point. You can’t be an easy man to live with, Edward, and, well, you’ve got your daughter to think of...’

Edward drained his glass. ‘Yeah, little Four-eyes. She’s so damned well behaved, so quiet, she’s like a fucking mouse. Even the nanny creeps about like a fucking nervous cow.’

Edward leaned back on the sofa, turned his bleary eyes to his brother and, out of the blue, asked about Evelyn. Alex shrugged and said he hadn’t seen much of him lately as he had only just returned from New York.

‘He a good little chap, is he?’

Sighing, Alex replied that he was a bit of a handful, and they were unable to keep a nanny for more than a few months. Edward stared sullenly into the fire and hurled his glass, shattering it on the tiles. ‘I’m going out, fancy a night out?’

‘No, I’m on my way home, and if I were you I’d get to bed, sleep it off.’

Edward began to swear to himself, and he didn’t even notice when Alex walked out.

On the back seat of Alex’s car lay the tell-tale newspapers, and he picked one up. It showed a picture of the ‘tycoon’s brother’, drunk and being thrown out of Tramps nightclub. Alex swore and waved his hand for the chauffeur to drive away. ‘Go on, drink yourself to death, you bastard, and the sooner the better.’

Edward continued drinking, and by daybreak his initial mood of despondency had switched to belligerence. He decided to wipe out all the men he knew were waiting with their hands out for the payoffs, for his bribes. He wanted to destroy them, they were making him sick, making him drink, the vultures... Well, he would get rid of them all, start with a clean slate... And last, but not least, on his list was his brother. He had plans for Alex — he would take Evelyn from him. The boy was his, Evelyn was Edward’s son.

He weaved out of the room, clutching the banisters to help him climb the stairs. Dewint, coming out of the kitchen, looked up in horror, Edward’s face was unshaven, his eyes unfocused. There was a helplessness about him that was heartbreaking. Dewint hurried up the stairs...

‘You’d best lie down, sah. Here, let me give you a hand.’

Dewint buckled at the knees as Edward put his arm around his shoulder, and leaned heavily against him. Together they swerved like dancers to the master bedroom.

‘You are a good chap, Dewint, good chap. You think you could get me cleaned up a bit? Old hands shaking and I don’t want to cut my throat, though there are many who would love it if I did.’

Dewint swished the shaving brush round the bowl, and gently soaped Edward’s face. He was propped up in bed, his eyes vacant, staring ahead.

‘What if I were to run you a nice bath, sah?’

‘Thank you. You’re a good chap, Dewint.’

He busied himself running the water in the big porcelain tub, laying out the fresh sheet-sized bath towels. When he returned to the bedside Edward had not moved. He was weeping soundlessly, tears streaming down his face. As Dewint made quietly to leave the room, Edward reached for him.

‘Just sit with me for a while, old fella, I’m in a bit of a mess... need a bit of company, need...’ Edward wept, holding tightly to Dewint’s hand... twice he tried to stop the tears, giving Dewint a sad half smile and a little shrug of his shoulders. But the tears continued. The bath water grew cold as they sat, Dewint not knowing what to do to comfort Edward. Suddenly Edward lifted Dewint’s hand to his lips and kissed it... whispering so softly that it was hardly audible...

‘Thank you. I’m all right now... I’m all right now.’

And it was over. Abruptly Edward reached for the telephone. He dialled a number and waited. He turned to Dewint...

‘Top up the bath and lay some clean clothes out. Then you’d better fix me something to eat — omelette, one of your specials, okay? Hello? It’s me!’

Dewint sprang into action as Edward was stripping off his shirt, talking to Miss Henderson at the office. Gone was any sign of emotional turmoil, instead he was sharp and abrupt.

‘Alex was round asking about South Africa; fend him off, Henny. I don’t want anything to do with my business out there getting into Alex’s hands. Tell him anything, but make sure he sees nothing... that includes telexes, cables and any reference to Skye Duval. I’ll leave it to you then and, Henny, this is important to me, understand? Good girl. I’m fine. Yes, I’m fine.’