‘Major Braddock!’ There was anger and contempt in his voice. ‘His name’s Iain Ross. It’s Iain Ross we’re talking about, and you know it. Why else did you go north to the Hebrides? How else could you have managed to get on that landing craft and finish up in Laerg? Both of you, there on your own island together. Now you just tell me where I’ll find the son-of-a-bitch. That’s all I want from you — for the moment.’ And when I told him I didn’t know, he said, ‘All right, Ross. You stick by him. Very admirable of you — very fraternal. But you won’t fob me off as easily as that. I’ll just stay on here in England. I can wait. They’ll produce him when the Board of Inquiry sits. And then I’ll get him. I’ll get the truth out of him then, so help me God, and if it’s what I think it is, I’ll brand him for the Goddamned murdering bastard he is. Goo’bye.’ And he slammed the phone down.
I didn’t see my brother again until the Board of Inquiry, which was held at Scottish Command on November 2. He had, however, been in touch with me once, very briefly, during the intervening ten days. It was a phone call late at night, about eleven-fifteen. I recognised his voice at once for he made no pretence of concealing his natural accent. ‘Donald? Is that you, Donald?’
‘Where are you?’ I said. ‘In London?’
‘Aye, in some bluidy nightclub — I forget the name. I must ha’ a wee talk wi’ you, Donald. Can you come down here? Right away. I must ha’ a talk wi ye.’
‘Of course.’ And I added, ‘Are you all right, Iain?’ His voice sounded thick and slurred. I thought he’d been drinking.
‘Yes, I’m all right, laddie. It’s just that I’ve made up my mind. I must talk to somebody. I’m all alone, you see. An’ I thought maybe if you’d nothing better to do»
‘Whereabouts are you?’ I said. I didn’t want to lose him. ‘I’ll come right down. Just tell me where to meet you.’
‘Aye, weel — I’m somewhere doon Curzon Street way.’ The accent was very broad and getting more slurred. ‘What aboot Cook’s now, meet me outside Cook’s in Berkeley Street.’
‘Okay, I’ll be there at midnight,’ I said.
‘Fine, fine, that’ll do fine. We’ll ha’ a wee drink together, eh? Like old times. Only hurry. I canna stand my own company much longer.’ And he’d hung up.
I’d just gone to bed, so that I had to dress, and then there was the problem of transport. Fortunately I had enough money in the studio for a taxi and I found one on the rank outside Aldgate East Station. I was at Cook’s by five to twelve. But he wasn’t there, and though I hung around until 2 a.m., he never showed up.
He didn’t ring me again and that was my only contact with him until I saw him in Service dress walking out of the Conference Room where the Board of Inquiry was being held. I was shocked at the change in him. The twitch at the corner of his mouth had become much more marked, the lines of his face deeper. There were bags under his eyes, and above them the eyes themselves stared weary and lack-lustre out of darkened sockets. He’d obviously been drinking heavily. His hands were trembling. He passed me without a flicker of recognition.
Shortly afterwards I was called to give evidence. The Inquiry was being conducted by a colonel. He sat at a mahogany table with a major on one side and a captain on the other. None of these officers was connected with Northton. They were taking depositions and by the way they questioned me I was certain it was merely the prelude to a court martial.
They took my evidence under oath. To some extent it was a cross-examination, with the Maajor making notes of my replies. They went over the whole sequence of events and my part in them. And when I had told them all I knew, the Major laboriously wrote out a summarised version in longhand. Then he read it through to me and when I had agreed that it was a fair statement of what I’d told them, I was asked to sign it.
I thought that was the end of it and was just getting up to leave, when the Colonel said, ‘One moment, Mr Ross.’ He searched through the folder in front of him and produced a letter. ‘D’you know anything about a Mr Edward William Lane of Vancouver, a Canadian businessman?’ I’d been expecting this and I was prepared for it. ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘He visited me in London on October 15. My brother Iain was among those missing when the Duart Castle was torpedoed in 1944. Lane had a theory that he was still alive.’
‘In fact, he thought Major Braddock might be your brother. Correct?’
I nodded.
‘The next day you left London for the Outer Hebrides. You landed at Rodil in the Island of Harris on October 18 and I understand you saw Major Braddock the following day.’
‘Yes.’
‘Had you ever visited the Outer Hebrides before?’ And when I admitted I hadn’t, he said, ‘I take it then that you went up there for the express purpose of checking on Major Braddock’s identity? In other words, you thought there was a possibility that he might be your missing brother?’
‘It was partly that,’ I agreed. ‘Lane had convinced me that my brother could have been with Braddock on that life-raft and I thought he might be able to tell me what had happened. Also,’ I added, ‘there seemed a possibility that I might be able to get out to Laerg.’ I started to explain to him then about my connection with the island and my desire to paint the scenes that my grandfather had described, but he cut me short.
‘We are only concerned here with your visit as it affected Major Braddock. Now then, is there any truth in Lane’s suggestion?’
I didn’t give him a direct answer. Instead, I said, ‘I understand that you’ve already taken evidence from the Senior Meteorological Officer at Northton. My first meeting with Major Braddock took place in the Met. Office. I imagine you have already asked Cliff Morgan whether Braddock and I recognised each other.’
He nodded.
‘What did he say?’ I asked.
‘That as far as he can remember there was no indication that you had ever met each other before.’
It was a great weight off my mind to know that. ‘Then that surely is your answer, sir,’ I said. ‘If Braddock had, in fact, been my brother, then I would hardly be a reliable witness. At the same time, it would have shown in our reaction to each other at.that first meeting. You can have my word for it, if you like, but I think you will agree that the best evidence you have that there is no connection between us is Morgan’s.’ And I added, ‘Perhaps you haven’t appreciated this point. I don’t know whether Lane explains it in that letter, but he’s now over here in an attempt to prove that Major Braddock is not entitled to a fortune of some quarter of a million dollars left him by his aunt. From what Lane told me, I got the impression that he was prepared to go to almost any lengths to upset the Will and get the money for his wife’s family.’
‘I see. No, he doesn’t mention that here.’ The Colonel hesitated. Finally he said, ‘It puts rather a different complexion on the whole business.’
For Iain’s sake I’d been prepared to lie, but after that it wasn’t necessary. The Colonel was faced with an unpleasant enough task as it was. He’d no wish to become involved with something that had happened more than twenty years ago. ‘Very well, I agree. That settles it. And I’m glad, for if there’d been any truth in it, then it would have raised the question of what had happened to the real George Braddock.’ He gave a little sigh and pushed the letter back into the folder. ‘Extraordinary what people will do for money. I’m sorry I’ve had to raise the matter … most unpleasant for you.’ And he smiled his relief and said, ‘That’s all, Mr Ross. Thank you for coming to give evidence. I am also asked by my superiors to thank you for all you did on Laerg to assist in the rescue of the survivors.’
‘I didn’t do much,’ I said. ‘Braddock’s the man to whom the survivors owe their lives. Field would never have made that climb if it hadn’t been for Braddock. He organised the whole thing.’