He was heading back to the pub via a street at the western end of Edwardes Square when he heard a voice behind him.
‘Ben?’
He turned and saw that Mark was following him. He looked shattered. With the club opening in Moscow, he was probably only sleeping five hours a night and this was the last thing he needed.
‘Look, I’m sorry. It’s my fault. Don’t blame Alice. I asked her to help me out and she was just being loyal.’
Ben said nothing.
‘I’m sorry if I took you by surprise. I’m sorry if I embarrassed you. We just…’ Mark stalled on the words. He had obviously rehearsed something and was determined to get it right. ‘All I was trying to say was this. More and more I’ve been thinking about the future, you know? Where are we gonna be ten years down the line? You and Alice have kids, Dad’s their grandfather, but because of all this shit that’s thirty years in the past his name can’t be mentioned at the dinner table. Mean while he and I are getting on better than ever, but we’re still having to creep around behind your back. How long’s it gonna last?’
‘So you want me to meet him just so that you can have a better time of it when you’re fifty-five?’
Ben regretted saying that, but for the sake of fraternal pride did not want to concede too early.
‘I’m just saying that you should think about giving him a chance. Not tonight. Tonight is fucked into a hat. But soon, Ben, soon. Otherwise he’s just going to be this barrier between us, a bridge we can’t cross.’
Ben smirked and looked up at the night sky.
‘I knew this was going to happen,’ he said. ‘Something like tonight.’
‘It was inevitable,’ Mark said.
‘Yes it was. And you know why? Because he’s talked you into it. You’re too soft on him, brother. You always want to do what’s right so that no one gets upset. Well, I’m upset. I got very upset in there. I embarrassed myself, I embarrassed you and I embarrassed my wife in front of everybody she works for. How does that feel?’
Mark did not respond. It looked as if he wanted to, but was holding back for fear of making things worse.
‘You want my truthful opinion?’ Ben was not surprised to feel that there was still resentment inside him. Most of it was a desire not to lose face, and he knew that he was prepared to make a later concession. ‘I think the relationship Dad has with you gives him what he wants — an opportunity to absolve himself of guilt.’ From his jacket pocket he took out a packet of cigarettes and watched his brother’s face for a register of annoyance. ‘Now he wants to complete that process, supposedly to convince me of his worth as a father. But that’s not motivated by a genuine concern for my welfare, or Alice’s, or anyone else. It’s just a selfish desire to convince himself of his blamelessness in respect of the past. He’s a spy, for Christ’s sake. All his relationships are games, little intrigues and power struggles. Lookhow he’s manipulated you. For most of his adult life Christopher Keen has been making a living out of an ability to convince people that he is something other than the person he appears to be. Think about it, Mark. If he could do it to Mum when they were married, if he could to it to us when we were kids, what’s to stop him doing it now?’
‘Thanks,’ Mark said, his face tightening. ‘You think I’m that much of a mug?’
Ben didn’t answer. He started walking towards the metal fence that ran along the western edge of the square. He had to move between parked cars.
‘You’ve got him all wrong,’ Mark said, following behind. ‘He’s not some puppet-master pulling the strings. Don’t you think people change? Don’t you think it’s possible that he might want to say sorry?’
Ben stopped and turned.
‘Has he said sorry to you?’
Mark could not give the answer he needed to without lying.
‘That’s not his style,’ he said, fudging it. They were now standing together on the pavement. ‘Dad just wants to make his peace. It’s that simple.’
‘Well, maybe he does,’ Ben conceded. ‘Maybe he does. And he can make it somewhere else.’
There were lights on in several of the houses on Edwardes Square, oil paintings and chintz and Peter Sissons reading the news. Ben saw a man enter a yellow-wallpapered drawing room wearing bottle-green corduroy trousers and a bright red sweater. The man was carrying a tray of food and talking to someone in another room.
‘You don’t believe that,’ Mark said.
‘Don’t I?’ Ben stared hard into his eyes. ‘He’s doing what I always thought he’d do. Crawling back, mid-life crisis, wanting us both to pat him on the head and tell him everything’s OK. Well, it’s not OK. He doesn’t meet me, he doesn’t meet Alice. End of story.’
‘Is that how she feels?’
‘Why don’t you ask her?’ Ben turned again. ‘You two seem to be very close.’
‘I don’t need to ask her.’ Mark was angry now. He couldn’t keep it in. ‘She knows what I know. She knows what you should know if you weren’t so fucking pig-headed. She knows that you’re fascinated by Dad. She knows that you can’t wait to meet him.’
Until that moment, Ben had thought that he was in control, bending Mark to his will. But this last remark caught him off guard. He ran through every one of his recent conversations with Alice, every argument, every lie, every quiet chat in the house, but he could not recall even hinting at what Mark had just suggested.
‘Is that what she told you?’ he asked.
‘She doesn’t need to tell me.’
Ben frowned.
‘Look,’ Mark said. ‘Don’t you even want to know what he looks like? How his character is different from yours? Don’t you want to know if he’s boring or vain or funny or rich? Doesn’t any of that interest you? Don’t you wonder what sort of a person he is, the hidden man?’
‘We have nothing in common,’ Ben said, but the statement lacked conviction. He blew a column of smoke at the railings. ‘Anyway, I’m not interested in any of that at all.’
But Mark was on to him.
‘I don’t buy it. You have nothing but interest in that. Listen, if you turn around now and agree to meet him, Alice is not going to think badly of you. Your friends won’t think you’ve sold out. I won’t think you’ve sold out.’ Mark touched his chest. ‘Is that all that’s stopping you? What other people might think?’
Ben was stunned by how well they both knew him. He thought that he had concealed his feelings, maintained a privacy, but his thoughts had been preempted. It was as if he was listening to his entire personality being pulled inside-out. He managed to say ‘No’, but the word was meaningless. Mark was whispering.
‘And it’s not disloyal to Mum. I know that’s always been on your conscience, but she wanted us to be happy.’
‘Does Alice think I’m stubborn?’ It was a question to which Ben already knew the answer. Somebody walked past them, but he did not look up. ‘Does Alice think I’m too proud to face facts, that I’m stuck in the past?’
‘No.’
‘And what about you?’
‘Ben, it doesn’t matter what I think. It doesn’t matter what anyone thinks. If you feel the way you feel, then it sounds like we’re all wasting our time. It sounds like there’s nothing more to be said.’
Ben waited. He was ready now. It was the right moment. He knew that Mark was being shrewd and not forcing the issue.
‘Nobody should make you do something that you don’t want to do,’ he said. ‘At the end of the day, just because I’ve started seeing Dad doesn’t mean that you should too.’
‘I know that…’
‘But I think it would do you good to meet him. I think it’s something that you need to do. Even if it’s just to let off steam, to have it out with him. That’s why we set this thing up tonight, this disastrous fucking drinkin this disastrous fucking boozer.’ Mark nodded his head in the direction of the pub. ‘But to know that he’s here in London and not do anything about that is just going to eat away at you. It’s bad for you, it’s bad for me and it’s bad for your marriage.’