Alexander (13)

13

 

Alexander was running out of money. His return ticket to Warsaw was an ‘open’ one, but he still needed to pay for transportation to London. What's more, he wanted to visit Luther's daughter who lived to the north of the city, a round trip of seventy-eighty miles.

 

The photographs were still a concern. Who could he trust ? Who would take action against the perpetrators of such abuse ? Who would have the courage to confront Lady Brook ?

 

The weather began to turn. Alexander’s mood soured. He no longer had the homeless camp beneath the viaduct to go to. What’s more, he knew the photos weren’t evidence enough. A smart lawyer would cast doubt, find a way to question their authenticity. And who was the elderly man ? Was he even alive ?

 

Alexander sat on the bench outside the municipal building. He was getting nowhere. Perhaps the answer was to leave town and move on - seek work elsewhere. Forget about the girl from the cafe and Brook Manor; forget about Luther and what happened at the garages. Perhaps it was time that Alexander started to think of himself, started to think about his own self-preservation, his own future.

 

And then, like a divine, self-fulfilling omen, Lady Brook's white Rolls Royce appeared, driving along the road at the far side of the car park. It sauntered up the hill and made a left turn, then a right, until it disappeared from view. Alexander ran in the car’s direction, eager to discover its destination.

 

He found the Silver Shadow parked outside a detached house a mile or so from the cafe. Alexander read the plaque on the gate: the house was a discreet private doctor’s surgery in a quiet, anonymous street. He stood on the corner of the road and waited for Lady Brook to re-appear. His reward, when it came, cast aside all notions he might have had of moving to another town or city. Lady Brook appeared with a rather unstable looking young woman who she ushered onto the back seat of the car before driving off - a young woman that Alexander immediately recognized as Alicia, the waitress in the cafe.

 

-*-

 

Convinced that Alicia was being held against her will, Alexander traveled by bus to the address Luther had left for him. It meant getting off before the station and boarding a connecting bus to a suburban estate, five miles outside the city centre.

 

Alexander walked along the bustling city streets. He saw wealth in this place, certainly - shops stocked with goods that were unimaginable in terms of quality and sophistication from when Alexander was a boy. And yet he saw great poverty too, in the form of beggars sitting outside the brightly colored arcades. He saw exhaustion etched on the faces of people making their way to work, people whose jobs were poorly paid and insecure. And he saw youths, cast adrift by society, huddled together in groups, their prejudices festering, their belief in a worthwhile future eroding by the day.

 

It took more than an hour before he reached the house of Luther’s ex-wife. The estate was smart – anonymous, uniform new-builds. Alexander wasn't sure what to expect. Was Luther’s daughter interested in talking about her father ?

 

He rang the front door bell; there was no answer. He waited. It was early evening now. The light was beginning to fade and it was getting cold. If he wasn't careful he would be stranded overnight. The bus service to the city ended at eleven pm. He cursed himself - what he was doing was foolish. He decided to post the medals through the letterbox with a note explaining Luther's fate.

 

Just then a car swung onto the driveway. A man and a woman got out. The man walked toward Alexander, all swaggering conviction – clearly intent on provoking a violent confrontation.

 

‘Who are you ?’ he said. ‘Eh ? What you doing here ?’

 

He grabbed Alexander by the neck and pushed him against the wall. The woman started to shout: ‘Leave us alone! You people are sick. Leave us alone!’

 

Alexander cowered. The man drew Alexander towards him and then pushed hard against the frame of the front door. Alexander now became aware of a third person, a young girl - Rikki, Luther’s daughter. She was imploring the man and woman to stop, to let Alexander speak.

 

The man reluctantly loosened his grip and stepped back. All three stared at Alexander. The woman said: ‘Who are you ? Another nosey parker ? Come to have a good look have yer ?’ When Alexander had recovered himself, he told them he was a friend of Luther's.

 

The woman, who Alexander now took to be Luther’s ex-wife, said: ‘We’re not interested. After what he did to us, Luther can rot in hell!’

 

Rikki seemed disheartened by her mother's response. ‘Mom, just wait for a minute and listen to him.’

 

The man decided to contribute to the squabbling and said: ‘Rikki, your mom doesn’t need to listen to anything.’

 

Rikki began to shout: ‘I don't care what any of you think. I'll decide what I want to hear!’

 

She flounced along the driveway, onto the pavement, and down the street, her mother calling after her. ‘I hope you're satisfied’ Luther’s ex-wife said to Alexander when Rikki was out of sight.

 

‘I'll go and get her’ the man said but Rikki's mother stopped him ‘No, leave her. I’ve had enough. Let her talk to him if she wants.’

 

Luther's ex-wife and her partner went into the house, slamming the door behind them.

 

Alexander took a deep breath and started walking along the pavement in search of Rikki. He found her sitting in a children's playground, twisting gently from side to side on a swing. Now he was close to her he could see that she shared Luther's features - the same dark hair, heavy eyebrows and square chin. The nose too - slightly bulbous giving her a childish, vulnerable edge.

 

She kicked her heels and looked at Alexander. ‘They killed him, didn’t they ?’

 

Alexander, surprised, said: ‘All I know is, there was a stand-off with police. I spoke with someone, a Polish man who sleeps rough in the town. He said the police shot him.’

 

Rikki looked sullen, strangely resigned to what she'd been told. ‘He always said that's how it would end.’

 

‘What do you mean ?’

 

‘My Dad had enemies in high places.’

 

‘Luther lived like a down and out. He rented a squalid room – I’ve seen it.’

 

Rikki shook her head. ‘That wasn't the real Luther. That was the Luther they created...the person he turned into because of what happened.’

 

Alexander wasn't sure what she meant. He wanted to tell her about the photographs but held back – tried to allow some space for her to open up.

 

‘Rikki, I came here because Luther left something for you.’

 

Alexander took out the small parcel from his rucksack and opened it. He gave her the medals and the photograph of her that Luther always kept in his greatcoat pocket. Rikki brushed her thumb across one of the ribbons and smiled at the sight of her father’s childish handwriting on the back of her picture. Alexander said: ‘There are other things he left, things I can't talk about just now. If there’s anything you can tell me about Luther’s past...’

 

Tears formed in Rikki’s eyes. ‘These medals’ she said ‘…he always told me, were his finest achievement. He won another medal too, for bravery - courage under fire. Dad went to the Palace to collect it. Do you know where that medal is now ? He threw it in a lake. That's how angry he was when the army kicked him out.

 

Alexander said: ‘Why did they kick him out ?’

 

‘An officer offended him and dad wouldn't let it go. They said he became violent and was court marshalled.’

 

Alexander nodded and said: ‘I’m sorry.’

 

Rikki said: ‘Then things got worse between Luther and mom. He hit her - she's got photos to prove it. They split up and Mom found a new partner. Luther didn't take it well. He kept coming here and harassing her, trying to win her back.’

 

Rikki was beginning to struggle, unable to retain her composure as the memory of her father overwhelmed her.

 

‘When dad was issued a restraining order he disappeared. I didn’t see him for a long time. Then, a few days ago, he came to the house. He was drunk – I could smell it on his breath. I didn’t know it but he’d assaulted my grandfather and grandmother...threatened to kill them...He said he just wanted to see me but mom called the police. She doesn't care what I want.’

 

Alexander waited a few moments and asked Rikki if she knew the names of any of Luther’s comrades from his time in the army. Rikki said she could only remember one: ‘Terry. Terry Moore.’