Lynda Plante - The Talisman

As the party crossed the hall they couldn’t help but overhear the high-pitched, bell-like voice rising in anger. ‘That chap’s got Clarence’s cufflinks on, I bought them for his twenty-first, I would know them anywhere. He’s a ruddy thief, I want the police called. Primmy, please don’t walk away when I’m talking to you. Who is that fella, and where is Clarence? He won’t like it, I am going to do something about this.’

Charlie closed the sitting-room door with a wink to Edward and began to pour port and brandy, spilling it as he was already rather drunk. The raised voices continued out in the hall, and Charlie grabbed hold of Edward’s cuffs, swearing and trying to take out the cufflinks.

‘Better get ‘em off, old chap, he’s liable to get into such a state. Here, give them over.’

Lord Carlton looked on and the girls sat eagle-eyed on the settee as Charlie ran from the room. He left the door ajar, and they could all see the irate David standing with his cane in the hall.

‘Here, Father, take them, put them away safely so no one can take them, here, these are what you want, aren’t they?’

Lady Primrose hovered at the door and gave Edward an apologetic shrug of the shoulders. The high-pitched voice continued, and now Humphrey could be seen trying to cajole David up the stairs, holding a cloudy drink out for him like a carrot to a donkey.

‘All I’m saying is, that chap has no right to be wearing Clarry’s cufflinks. When he comes back he’ll play hell, don’t like this sort of carry-on at all, not nice, throw the beggar out on his ear.’

At last the door was shut, and everyone tried to cover up their embarrassment by talking at once. Edward sat with his sleeves flapping and his feet, in Clarence’s patent-leather shoes, hurting. At the first opportunity he excused himself, pleading a headache.

He stood outside the door and knew they were talking about him. He hated the feelings churning inside him, hated being laughed at, but more than that he hated being the outsider. Edward had only just undone his tie and hung it on the doorknob when Charlie knocked and walked into the bedroom.

‘Look, sorry about all the carry-on down there, but the old man is out of it, been that way as long as I can remember.’

‘Just so long as he doesn’t undress me next time. You want Clarry’s suit back? Tie? Shirt?’

Charlie thumped him on the shoulder and then sprawled on the bed. ‘You know Freddy was engaged to my mother when they were young, and then she ditched him for old loonydrawers... Apparently Freddy is still getting the old leg over her, and I can’t really say I blame him — or her, for that matter. Neither of them have what one could describe as perfect partners. Lord Freddy was married for his title — the little hairy woman is tres riche , but poor Ma married for love.’

Edward was unbuttoning his shirt. ‘What happened to your father?’

‘Well, it’s all cloaked in mystery, something like shell-shock. He was getting better for a while, then this scandal blew up... Well, that’s what Ma says put the lid on him.’

Edward sat next to Charlie, cocking his head to one side. ‘Well, don’t stop there, you’ve got me hooked now...’

Charlie’s face puckered, and then he stuffed his hands in his pockets. ‘I don’t know all the facts, but I had an uncle — he was a boxing promoter. You know the kind — “Gentleman Jim” — with more money than he knew what to do with. Well, Pop took some tart to a boxing match — you know, bare-knuckle job. What the hell he was doing there I don’t know. But then he was a bit of a social climber, ya know, maybe thought it was infra dig. But he dragged poor old Freddy with him, and a bunch of debs too — not, I hasten to add, my dear mother, she’d never have been seen dead at a boxing match.’

Edward could feel the hairs on the back of his neck prickling again, and he started to feel cold, icy cold.

‘Well, go on,’ he said.

Charlie continued, ‘Well, it all got out of hand and some blokes raped a gypsy girl. Then this tart tried to make Pa take her home. Well, he paid her off, and all of a sudden these horrific murders started, they called them the revenge murders... the gypsy revenge murders. Seems the lads who raped the girl were found bound and gagged, throats slit. Oh, yes... and some weird markings on their forehead, or so the story goes.’

Edward stared at his tie. It was hanging down the door like a noose, a hangman’s noose.

Charlie yawned and sat up, rubbing his head. ‘Next thing, this whore reappears, saying she’s going to stand as a defence witness for this gyppo, who was charged with the murders, and she wants Pa and Freddy to act as witnesses because they were at the fight. I think she wanted them as character witnesses, not for the gyppo but for herself, so you can imagine what a scandal that would start up... so they refused. Then Gentleman Jim, Uncle Charlie, swashbuckles his way into town. He wants this gyppo for his boxing stable, so he organizes all the legal buffs, and gets poor old Pa into such a state that he agrees to appear. He also gets Lord Freddy to stand up for this dreadful woman.’

‘What was she called?’

‘Dear God, I haven’t the slightest. You’ve no idea how tough it was trying to get that much out of Freddy, and he was pretty tight so I’ve no idea how much of that was true. Ma won’t even discuss it, says that if that tart hadn’t made such a fuss, Pa would never have had a relapse.’

‘What happened to the fighter?’

‘No idea. I was just getting to the nitty gritty when Freddy got all tearful... Apparently, this old bastard uncle, the gent I owe my name to... well, apparently he was a tough negotiator, blackmailed Freddy and Pa...’

Edward interrupted. ‘How? What did he have on them?’

Charlie stared at Edward, finding his interest a little distasteful. ‘Freddy never said what made them step forward, but... Look, what’s it to you?’

‘But what?’

Charlie’s face tightened, then he shrugged. ‘Maybe it’s just deserts.’

‘I don’t follow?’

‘I didn’t really intend you to, old boy... It’s not something one likes to broadcast, but Clarry knew. Maybe that was why he couldn’t wait to get to the front, get himself shot in a decent hero’s death.’ He ran his hand along the name scratched on the bedpost, tracing the childish letters over and over with his fingers. Then he stuffed his hands back into his pockets, no longer joking; Edward felt that he was ashamed.

‘The old man, Edward, turned custard yellow and fled. He left his entire regiment to be hacked to death, that’s why he’s loony. He can’t face the past, can’t face the truth... C’est la vie , huh?’

Edward knew who the fighter was, knew the woman Charlie had referred to as a ‘tart’ was his mother, but he showed no sign that anything Charlie had said had affected him personally. He spoke flippantly, hoping to get more information. ‘So what happened to the tart and the fighter?’ he asked.

Bored by the subject now, Charlie picked his nose, then lurched to his feet, dismissively. ‘God only knows. No doubt they lived happily ever after — luck of the gyppos, I suppose. And I’ve said too much, always do when I’ve been on the gin. Well, g’night, I’m falling asleep on my feet. See you on the morrow, old chum.’

He sauntered out, and Edward relaxed, stretching his hands, his fingers... Then he undressed and lay, naked, on the small bed. He was sure Charlie had no inkling of his background, it had been sheer coincidence. Freedom Stubbs and Edward were too far apart, worlds apart now, and no one could link him with the gypsy and the ‘whore’, as Charlie had called her. He turned to lie on his belly. He would make sure no one else would make the connection.