Lynda Plante - The Talisman

Edward had a coughing fit while he thought of something to say. But, unusually for him, there wasn’t anything, because he was actually trying to imagine what it must have been like for his brother.

Alex stared at the wall, then after a while he said, turning to Edward, ‘See, I was blinded, because I thought he looked like Dad. But she, Barbara, never knew him, all she saw every time she looked at Lyn, as she calls him, all she ever saw was you... When I found out, Christ, I felt such a prick, so dumb that I’d never even tumbled to it... Jesus, what a cunt you have been, all my life you’ve been kicking me. So tell me, why did you go to bed with her? Why, Eddie? All the women you could have had, and it had to be her, why? Was it to get at me? Was that it?’

Edward coughed again, spat in the handbasin and ran the water. ‘I didn’t want her, Alex, she came of her own free will. I never set out to take her, I never set out to hurt you. And right now, if I said I was sorry, it would mean nothing, but if you want to hear it...’

‘I don’t — like everything to do with you, it’s too late.’

Edward walked aimlessly around the room, searched his coat pocket for another cigar. He could remember Barbara’s visit clearly, and that it had coincided with one of Harry’s breakdowns. But there was no point bringing it up. He unwrapped the cellophane from the cigar, picked off the small gold band. He had screwed her, and had even enjoyed it for a while. He patted his pockets, looking for matches — he never could keep a lighter for more than a few weeks. Well, only one. He had kept the solid gold one he had been given in payment for the use of his body. He chuckled to himself — he wouldn’t be paid so much as a matchstick for it now, the size he was. He puffed on the cigar, the smoke coiling in the air, then sat on the bed opposite his brother. He looked at Alex as he lay stretched out on the other bed, put out his big hand and squeezed his shoulder. No words could ever make up for the things he had done, and he knew it.

Alex put his arm across his face and began to cry. Between heart-rending sobs he described what Evelyn had looked like in jail, how he had gripped his father’s hands and seemed so helpless.

Edward pulled out his silk, polka-dot handkerchief, leaned over and wiped his brother’s face, just as he had done when they were kids. ‘Listen, you and me both, we’ll leave no stone unturned, we’ll get this thing sorted out together, yeah? That’s the deal, brother, okay?’

Alex blew his nose and wiped his eyes. ‘I love him, Eddie, I love him, and you know something? He’s just as stubborn a bastard as you always were. But he is my boy, and it wasn’t until he clung to me, held me, that it meant so much. He needs me, and... I need him.’

Edward flopped back on to the bed, the springs creaking ominously. ‘Look, I’ll agree to anything, but will you stop calling me Eddie...? Now then, I have a contact in the Foreign Office, and I shall have to spread a lot of jam. Maybe I can swing it, get it down to a couple of years...? I’m not making promises...’

Alex drew himself up to sit facing his brother. His blue eyes were troubled, his face twisted as he dredged up his past. ‘Not good enough, Eddie, because you do that and I can tell you exactly what’s going to happen to him. Believe me, I know — it doesn’t matter if it’s here in France or in England. Behind bars men all act the same way — he’s a good-looking kid, they won’t leave him alone.’

He reached for his case — the one with the Gucci monogram — and took out a bottle of duty-free Scotch. Unscrewing the cap he drank, and slowly, piece by piece, Edward learnt what Alex had been put through as a boy even younger than Evelyn. The bottle was half-empty by the time he had finished, and he had not once passed it to his brother. Holding it carefully by the neck he stood it on the table between the beds. Edward looked up at him, bereft of words, swamped by a terrible helplessness at his inability to ease his brother’s anguish, so long kept hidden beneath the surface — so much pain. He reached up, offering his brother his hand in a gesture of submission, of understanding. If Alex did not take his hand, Edward did not know what he would do with himself.

Slowly, Alex reached out, threaded his fingers through his brother’s. He spoke so softly Edward had to strain to hear him. ‘Oh, Eddie, how I hated you... and it went on and on, it never ended. Barbara, Evelyn — everything I had you took from me. You know where I’ve been all these weeks? With Skye Duval... Yeah, you’re surprised?’

Alex released his brother’s hand, began to walk around the room. ‘Eddie, I have letters back in England — that doctor I sent you to, when you were ill, remember? Well, there are other letters, and newspaper clippings, proving you are a drunkard and incapable of running the Barkley empire. I wanted it, I wanted all of it, and just in case you tried to fight the board, I got proof of your illegal transactions in South Africa. Plus your part in the murder of a woman called...?’

Edward said the name quietly, ‘Julia.’

‘Right... and the hit and run, the “accident” that killed Richard Van der Burge.’

Edward smiled, shaking his head, and then laughed. ‘You son of a bitch, you son of a bitch, I’ll take you on, Alex, any day, any time.’

Alex stuffed his hands in his pockets and kicked the end of his brother’s bed. ‘No, you won’t, because when it comes down to it I don’t think I could see it through. Oh, I’d like to think I could, but... you’ve always beaten me. In a way I’m just like that poor bastard Skye Duval. You pull his strings, just as you pull mine — we’re your puppets.’

Edward picked up his heavy overcoat and walked to the door. He paused a moment, his back to Alex, then said, ‘You know, you dumb bastard, you’re wrong. From the moment I looked into your cradle — I was just tall enough to see over the edge — Ma said, “Come and see him, Edward, come and see Alex”; and there you were, smiling up at me with those big blue eyes. There was no jealousy, no envy, because I wanted to protect you, look out for you. You had me by the balls, my old son, even then. We’re brothers, Alex, we got each other so tight by the nuts we’re not much cop without each other. I love you, Alex, and I’ll get our boy off, and maybe you’ll be free of me for good. Everything I’ve got is yours. I guess it always was... Now get some rest, I’ll be back.’

He walked out without another word, without waiting for a reply, without turning round.

Outside, a janitor watched the big, overweight man leaning against a dirty brick wall. He was punching the wall with his fists, hitting it time and time again until his knuckles bled. The janitor did not dare approach him — the man was too big, too crazy... He clanked his bucket and mop in his haste to get out of sight. He didn’t see the massive frame hunch up, didn’t see Edward press his face against the dirty brick wall, nor did he hear the strange, strangled moan...

Edward did not return for two weeks, during which time Alex spent every possible moment with Evelyn. Somehow the relief of telling his brother everything had made it easier to cope with the prison.

The lawyers began to prepare their case. Through Edward, they had secured a total press blackout on the proceedings. The trial was to be held at the main court in Paris, Les Assises.

Evelyn’s time in prison proved to be a period of growth for him. In some ways Edward had been right, solitary confinement gave him peace to review his life and come to terms with it. He realized what he had wasted, what he had abused, and he was ashamed. He discovered in Alex a loving tenderness that he had never hoped to find. The visits drew them closer together, and they talked about everything that had harmed their relationship and kept them apart.