begun to get foggy. They discussed, again, how he should tackle Frank Muncaster: with sympathy, caution. Afterwards they drove on in silence and David thought about what Natalia had told him about the Slovak Jews. He knew she could have done nothing to help those people and it frightened him. He wondered how Sarah would react if she found out he was half Jewish. She hated what had been done to the Jews in England but that was different from being married to one. He knew prejudices ran very deep, had done even before anti-Jewish propaganda began in the 1940s.
His thoughts were interrupted by Geoff. ‘We’re here,’ he said quietly. They had come to a fork in the road, and a wooden signpost pointed to Bartley Green Asylum. They passed through a little copse and then saw an immense redbrick Victorian building a little way ahead, on top of a low hill, with a big water tower and well-tended grounds surrounded by a high wooden fence, lights shining through the mist. David hadn’t expected it to be so big and imposing.
The road followed the side of the fence to high, iron-barred gates. Beside them was a porter’s lodge with a window overlooking the road. They drove up to it, passing a woman in a dark nurse’s cloak walking towards the gates, and an elderly couple, heads down. David looked through the bars of the gates, down a long straight drive to the big building. Natalia stopped the car. ‘You two go and talk to the porter,’ she said.
Geoff and David got out. It was slightly warmer, but a clammy mist clung to them. They walked up to the window, where the nurse was talking to a porter through a panel. Ahead of them, the old couple stood, silent. The porter was small, elderly, his black uniform reminding David of old Sykes on the Dominions Office front desk. There was even a similar large rack of keys on the wall behind him. Another younger porter was working at a desk beside the plugs and sockets of a switchboard.
‘Been a bit busy with visiting time, but the rush is over now.’ The porter gave the nurse a key and turned to the old couple ahead of David and Geoff. The old man said in a Black Country accent, ‘We’re here to visit our daughter. Amy Lascelles, on Domville Ward.’
The porter shook his head reprovingly. ‘Visiting time’s nearly over.’
‘It takes a long time to get over from Walsall.’
The porter sighed. ‘Identity cards?’
The old couple produced them and the porter made an entry in a ledger. ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘Just wait to the side a minute.’ He turned to David and Geoff. ‘Yes, sirs?’
‘We’ve come to visit a patient too, Frank Muncaster,’ David answered. ‘I’m sorry we’re a bit late, we’ve driven up from London.’
The porter’s manner became deferential on hearing David’s accent. ‘Does the ward know you’re coming, sir?’
He took a deep breath. ‘No. This gentleman and I are old school friends of his. We heard from a friend of Dr Muncaster’s at the university that he was here – it was a bit of a shock. We decided to come up and see him.’
The porter looked over at Natalia, sitting in the car. ‘And the lady?’
Geoff said, ‘She’s a friend of mine. She drove us up.’
‘Well, I dare say it’ll be all right. Can I just see your identity cards?’
David handed over the fakes. The porter wrote down the false names, then turned to the young man at the switchboard. ‘Give Ironbridge Ward a ring, Dan, tell them Muncaster’s got visitors. Send some one out to the front steps to meet them. Muncaster’s popular today,’ he added.
David looked at Geoff. ‘What do you mean?’ he asked non-committally.
‘A couple of policemen came earlier, more questions about the incident I imagine.’ The porter leaned comfortably on the ledge. ‘You know he attacked his brother, threw him out of a window? I saw him when he came, he didn’t look violent but you can’t ever tell. I remember a man who were as quiet as a mouse for years, then one day he laid out two attendants and a doctor before you could say Jack Robinson.’ The porter shook his head with gloomy relish.
The younger man turned round from the telephone. ‘Mr Hall will wait for the visitors at the entrance.’
‘Open the gates for them, would you?’
The young porter went out, jangling a large bundle of keys. The nurse had already let herself in. David and Geoff got back into the car. The porter opened the gates and they drove through, the old couple walking in behind them. As Natalia started the engine David told her about the police visit. They heard the gates clang shut behind them.
‘What was it about?’
‘He didn’t know. He guessed it was about the attack on Frank’s brother.’
‘We’ll have to ask this Ben Hall. It can’t be anything too worrying or he’d have warned us off. We know there’s a police file open.’
Just beyond the gate a concrete bridge passed over a wide ditch with steep sides, muddy water at the bottom. Beyond it thick, tall privet hedges had been planted. David looked up the drive at the big house. As they approached the main doors a stocky young man in a brown, short-jacketed uniform came out and stood at the top of the steps. He was in his thirties, with a pleasantly ugly, prematurely lined face and a broken nose. He had a whistle on a chain at his belt, and a bunch of keys. Natalia parked the car to one side of the door. ‘All right,’ she said quietly. ‘That’s our man, I’ve seen a photograph. I’ll stay here. Good luck.’ David and Geoff got out again. The young man smiled and extended a hand, looking at them with sharp eyes.
‘Mr Ladyman and Mr Hedges?’ He had a strong Glasgow accent.
‘Yes,’ David replied. ‘I’m Hedges. Good afternoon.’
‘Hi. Thanks for coming. Frank’ll be pleased to see youse.’
David glanced back. The old couple were approaching the steps, their heads cast down in shame as they neared the asylum.
Inside the walls were painted an institutional green, the floors scuffed wooden blocks. Ben unlocked a heavy inner door leading into a long corridor. Two men in grey woollen uniforms stood watching them listlessly. They had comically bad pudding-basin haircuts, their ears sticking out below.
‘The porter said some police came to visit Frank earlier,’ David said quietly.
‘Aye.’ The attendant lowered his voice too. ‘We can talk about that when we get to the office.’
‘Security seems pretty tight here,’ Geoff said.
‘It is. Ye cannae get in without a key from the lodge and all the inner doors are locked.’ Ben turned to David, his tone still conversational. ‘So, you an’ Frank used to be good pals?’
‘Yes, at university. But I haven’t seen him for years.’
‘He seems to think a lot of you,’ Ben said. ‘He remembers your friend, but it was you he was attached to. I’ve got him in a separate wee room.’
‘Are there other visitors around?’
‘A few. Most have gone already, they don’t stay long. Most o’ the poor sods here don’t get visitors. Relatives come for a year or two, then stop. Out of shame, or seeing what their folk have come to.’
David said uneasily. ‘You said Frank was attached to me? You make him sound like a dog.’
Ben nodded. ‘Aye, it’s what he’s like. A whipped dog, looking for a good master.’
‘He’s very clever, in his way,’ David answered, a note of reproof in his voice.
Ben nodded again. ‘He keeps that hidden. Disnae talk much. He may say more to you. Drop in the idea ye might be able to take him away if you can.’ He opened another door, with thick glass panels, and they entered a large room where a couple of dozen men, all in the same grey suits, stood around or sat watching television. Some were seated at a big table making Christmas paper chains, supervised by an older man in a brown uniform like Ben’s. There was a smell of tobacco smoke and disinfectant. A young man sat in a corner talking to a middle-aged couple, who looked anxious and afraid. Parents, perhaps, visiting their son. People in the ward looked at the two well-dressed men with interest.
‘Visitors for Muncaster,’ Ben said to an older nurse.
‘He’s popular today.’
Ben answered lightly, ‘Aye. Where is he?’
The other nurse nodded to one of the inner doors leading from the main room. ‘Skulking in the quiet room as usual.’ There was bored contempt in his voice.
‘I’ll just have a word with these guys in the office first.’ Ben led David and Geoff into a small room with a desk, a couple of battered easy chairs and a big locked cupboard on the wall. He closed the door.
