Thirty-six

And at last the hour had been reached when he could walk down the final flight of stairs to his flat in the basement. So weary in mind, back and legs, like his whole being was bruised with fatigue, Stephen headed down. Back to his wife. He would usually go to her for thirty minutes during his lunch break at one, and then again at six thirty once the night man was in.

Stephen was the only company Janet had these days. The only real voice she ever heard, though he wasn’t so talkative any more. The residents liked to do the talking and they liked him because he listened and never troubled their space or time with his own personality. Such a tactic had advantages. The less you said, the easier life was.

In the only part of the basement that was carpeted, he reached the front door of their staff flat. Around him he heard the clank and grind and shudder of the lift motor room, its harder sounds rising above the distant thrum of the boiler. Sounds that could be heard all of the time down here if you concentrated. When he took the job and they moved in, he and Janet doubted they would be able to tolerate the constant noise. But if he had learned anything as head porter of Barrington House, it was that you soon get used to all kinds of things, and you accept what cannot be changed.

As he slipped his key into the lock, he wondered if Janet was always aware of the labouring of the building’s utilities, or the passing vehicles on the road one floor above their subterranean-level flat. These days, she never left the apartment unless he took her somewhere. Which was never much further than a mile in any direction.

Inside the flat, in the little hallway where it was too cramped to bend right over, he slipped his shoes off. The warmth and the smell of Janet’s patient exhalations hit him immediately. The flat wasn’t big enough for one person, let alone two. But Janet didn’t move much, so they managed as best they could.

Reaching out, he felt for the light switch where the hall opened into the living room. The old curtains and cheap carpet made the flat look orange, the colour somehow shrinking the dimensions too. He didn’t like spending too much time in here and tried to get off to sleep pretty quickly in the evenings. To put every day out of its misery.

He’d not been down at dinner time to turn the television on for Janet. Not today; there had been too much to do upstairs. So Janet had sat down here all day and into the early evening in the dark.

Silent and still, she was sitting in her chair in exactly the same position as this morning when he left her, dressed in the pink housecoat, with the tartan blanket over her lap and legs.

He could smell piss.

She must be thirsty too; the glass with the straw inside, on the little side table beside her arm, was empty.

But no shit. Yes, she’d been that morning before he’d gone upstairs for the day.

He would have liked to open a window to air the tiny room. Being so close to the boiler the heat became insufferable. But the window was right behind Janet’s chair and he didn’t want her caught in a draught.

In the kitchen that always made him think of the caravans they used to rent in Devon, he opened the fridge. All Formica surfaces in the kitchen and everything built in miniature like it had been made for a child’s Wendy house. What a way to live.

The fridge began to hum and vibrate. There were three microwave dinners left. He’d have the Lancashire hotpot. Didn’t feel like curry tonight after smelling Piotr’s armpits all day. Once he’d finished, Janet could have the macaroni cheese, after he’d let her meal cool down properly. She couldn’t tell him if it was too hot; he had to watch her eyes instead.

While the microwave purred and tinged and lit itself up, he went through to the lounge and turned the television on with the remote. Immediately, he lowered the sound. Slowly, he undid his silver tie. Then unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled his sleeves up his forearms. Janet watched him.

From the little cabinet built over the fireplace, he retrieved the single malt Mr Alfrezi gave him last Christmas. The last bottle, but the residents were very generous at Christmas. You look after them and they’ll look after you, he told his staff. And would tell Seth the same thing when he handed the staff apartment over to him. Pass on the simple instructions and advice – that he had longed to do for ten years. The moment was almost upon him.

Stephen drank two big gulps from the mouth of the bottle. And winced as it burned down his gullet. Yes, it should be a good Christmas.

Last Christmas he made three grand in tips and received four bottles of champagne, two good reds and eight single malts. This year should be even better. His wife was very ill, they all knew that; and he had dealt with the sudden deaths of Mrs Roth and old Tom Shafer too, with ‘considerable sensitivity’ Mr Glock had said. Betty Roth’s daughter had even held both of his hands and said as much with tears in her eyes. Apparently, her mother was very fond of him. Not that he’d noticed.

He went and sat down heavily with a big sigh, on the sofa next to Janet’s chair. Then placed his feet on the little cushioned stool. He removed his glasses and rubbed at his eyes.

Janet looked at the floor in front of her chair. No real expression on her face. She didn’t seem to react to much these days. Beside one thing: now that always got a rise out of her.

Stephen took another gulp from the neck of the bottle and sighed appreciatively. ‘You know, dear, I’m very glad that I have never actually seen whatever it is that you saw up there. Inside that flat. I mean Seth is going in there tonight to do the kid’s bidding. And it’ll be that gorgeous little thing he takes up there with him. The one who inherited Lil’s old place. You know, the niece? And then I’m out of here, my dear. Long gone. Vamoosh.’

Janet continued to stare at the floor. He was really getting fed up with her now. If he were honest, she’d never been good company. But what did he know back then when they got married? You never had as many choices and opportunities as the young people did today. With hindsight, he’d certainly have done things differently. But there was still time. A little time left to get out there and enjoy himself a bit. Instead of living in these demoralizing shoeboxes at the beck and call of rich tossers like Glock and Betty Roth.

He nodded in her direction, raising his eyebrows to emphasize his point. ‘And we both know only too well what can happen if you go messing around with things in there, don’t we dear? I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, what’s dead should stay dead. Bring it back and there’ll only be trouble. But you wouldn’t listen, would you. Eh?’

From the kitchen the microwave pinged its little bell. Stephen rose from his seat and went through. As he peeled the steaming wet lid off the hotpot, he spoke distractedly over his shoulder. ‘You had to go up there with old Lill, messing around in that place looking for our son. If you’d not gone up there to find him, none of this would have happened. So I reckon this is all your fault. I mean it. Had you not brought our proud son back from wherever he was causing havoc, old Roth and the Shafers would still be breaking everyone’s balls at Barrington House. And we wouldn’t have been stuck here until they died. Did you know that? Eh? Well you do now, dear.’

He turned away from the counter with his meal on a tray. ‘Hard to believe that such a vicious little sod was ever our flesh and blood.’ He shook his head. ‘Jesus, I still can’t believe he’s had Seth do those old Shafers as well as Betty. Though I don’t know why I am surprised. All those years ago when I was serving my country in Ireland, you let that little shit run wild, until he ran into borstal. Eh? Loved trouble he did, and then got himself all burned up. Christ almighty. But he’s far more dangerous dead.’

He emptied the slurry of vegetables and cubes of stewing beef onto a Pyrex plate and retrieved a fork from the side of the tray.

Blowing on the surface and then forking it quickly into his mouth, he spoke around mouthfuls. ‘I’d have to guess that Seth has pretty much done his job. As have I. Though I take pride in the fact that I did my share a little more thoroughly than he has. He’s always leaving doors open. Never thought it through. Too jumpy for the job. But I cleaned up thoroughly after him. Got it sorted. Like I have always done in this bloody place. Making sure the symbols stayed behind the pictures, in all the right places, like our kid showed me, no matter how many times the directors messed around with the decor. I had a right job with the stairs in the west block when they bought all those new prints. I had to work fast outside the flats the kid had an interest in too, to keep things as they were and to keep certain people here until they died. Which Seth is making happen with an efficiency I honestly did not believe he was capable of when I hired him. So I’d like to think our lad, and those others he knocks about with now, are satisfied with my work. Though the little shit is coy, dear. Very coy. Takes after his mum, he does.’

He sat back and smacked his lips. Moved a tongue over his gums. ‘But I’ll guess Seth has been shown things up there in much the same way as you were. The night you spent up there.’ He pointed his fork for emphasis. ‘For Seth, being a painter, it was exactly what he wanted to see. You know, for inspiration. Painters need this. That’s pretty much what the kid said last time I saw him. And Seth’s got more stomach for it. In there, with those things. Fancy that. Not like the rest of us. Or you, for that matter. Now look at you, eh? That’s what comes from meddling. Makes you wonder though, doesn’t it, what’s in store for that girl, Apryl, dear. I never asked the kid about what he’s got Seth to agree to up there, but I can’t help thinking it’ll be something she isn’t expecting.’

He finished the last of his hotpot in silent concentration. He was hungry and chased every pea to the edge of his plate. ‘Mmm. I’m going to give you macaroni cheese, dear. You used to like it, but I think it tastes and looks and smells like shit.’

Back in the kitchen he tossed the hotpot carton into the bin and then settled his plate into the blue washing-up bowl inside the sink.

When Janet’s meal was ready, he knelt on the floor before her chair and scooped a forkful from the side of her plate where it was cooler, and blew on it too to make sure. ‘There, that should be just right.’

Without meeting his eyes, Janet accepted the fork into her mouth, chewed a little and then swallowed.

‘The girl though,’ he said. ‘It’s still upsetting. It’s why I need a drink. And I’ll see that bottle off tonight, you mark my words. So I’ll thank you in advance for keeping a low profile this evening.’

As she looked at her husband, Janet’s eyes widened.

‘She’s very pretty, Janet. I’ve told you before. Lovely-looking girl, with good manners too. Even though she has all of those tattoos, she’s every bit as courteous as Lillian. She reminds me of old Lil. She really does.’ He shook his head with a sigh and fed Janet another three heaped forks. His knees were hurting and he wanted to get this over with.

‘It was bad enough seeing Betty’s face and old Tom Shafer, but I really don’t want to see what they’ll do to a young and pretty thing like Apryl. The girl is an unfortunate accident, I reckon. She’s just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Poking her nose in. Like you did. Fatal. Fucking fatal, dear. And like you, after that first time in there, dear, I doubt she’ll ever be the same again. No one is once they’ve been up there with them. You know, up close. She’ll be lucky not to have a stroke as well. I hope it’s her heart that goes. I really do. So she doesn’t end up like you.’

He dropped the fork onto the plate. ‘That’s enough. We don’t want you losing your figure again. You can’t exercise and this shit is full of fat.’ With a groan, he slowly rose to his feet, using the arm of Janet’s chair as support. ‘I’ll get a cloth, it’s all over your ruddy chin.’

When he came back with the damp cloth he used for wiping down the kitchen surfaces, Janet was crying. He dabbed at her chin.

‘Now if you’re going to make a fuss, I’ll put you in the bedroom again, and close the bloody door. I’ve had a very trying day. Let’s just get through the next few weeks and stay out of each other’s way. Then it’ll be all over and done with. I expect Mrs Roth’s daughter will sell both flats. And you know as well as I do that properties don’t hang around in this building. So after that I can finish up here. I don’t think I can risk waiting any longer than a month at most. Because when someone moves into sixteen, then what? Eh? I could get stuck. Mixed up in it all again. Thanks to you. It’s already a little risky. Two deaths, Mrs Shafer all crazy, and the girl soon to get hurt. So I’ll do the handover to old Seth as quick as I can, and then I’m off, me dear. Like they promised. They’ll let me out then. I haven’t been able to walk further than Bond Street in a fucking decade.’

He sucked his teeth for a moment and looked up at the ceiling. ‘And it could also work in my favour too. It’ll look good, if you think about it. And I do. I think it through, dear. Not like you bleeding hearts. You see, the strain of recent events and all these years enduring the incapacitation of my wife, then getting widowed. Who could blame me for handing my notice in? Just packing in and heading for the sun? I think I’ll be all right.’

Janet began to make a moaning sound. A hard keening that came from deep within her chest. Her eyes flitted around as if she were looking for a way out.

Stephen took no notice. He’d talk to himself if she wasn’t going to hear him out. Set it all down inside his own head. Talking out loud helped. They all did a lot of that here. ‘They’ve no problem with me. I’ve done my bit and can go now. Our kid will show me how to remove whatever the fuck it is that keeps me inside a square mile I now know every single inch of. Seth’s turn now. They wanted a painter and I gave them one. Though he has a different agreement with them, I’d say. I stood me ground and wouldn’t kill those old bastards. Though God knows I’ve thought about it often enough, just to get out of here. But Seth stepped up. Right off. Christ, he’s cold.

‘So I’ll give it another fortnight and I’ll take you back up too. For the last time. One more trip will be sufficient. I’ll give you plenty of notice, though. That’s only fair. But I don’t know the exact date yet. I’ll have to play it by ear for a while, so do be patient. Then you and the kid can spend all the time you want together.’

Janet tried to move forward in her chair. Her eyes bulged from the effort, and without even looking at her, Stephen gently put his hand between her breasts and pushed her back. She gasped and sat still again.

‘After that, your guess is as good as mine. It’s only a theory, mind, because different rules apply up there, but Seth won’t ever be going far from this place. Life sentence for old Seth. He’ll live in this flat till he croaks. Nor will you, dear. Your body might, when it’s over, when they’ve had their way up there. But you won’t. You’ll go where our kid and old Roth and Shafer went. So maybe you can all be chums again. In that other place with the rest of them. And I don’t want to be around when you are. Spending so much time together in here has been bad enough, so I don’t want to keep seeing you in mirrors or popping up in the pictures on the stairwells. No good for the nerves, dear. I think you of all people will appreciate that.’

Stephen took a seat beside her and took another swig from the neck of the bottle. Janet began a constant rhythmic sobbing sound.

‘There’s no point in making a fuss. This had nothing to do with us until you made it our business.’

He stood up again and approached her chair. Janet flinched. He took the brakes off the grey rubber wheels and moved her away from the wall and pointed her feet in the direction of the bedroom door. ‘I don’t know what gets into you women, I really don’t. Got to poke your beaks where they’re not wanted. And then you start fussing and moaning when it all goes tits-up.’

He wheeled her chair into the tiny bedroom and parked her in the corner beside the bed. ‘I want some time to myself now. I’ve been on my feet all day. I’ll change you in the morning. I don’t have the patience now.’

The head porter closed the door and left his wife in the dark. As he resumed his seat on the couch, he guessed, and it was just a guess, that the residents would be very generous at Christmas when he announced his retirement as head porter of Barrington House.