A Scandalous Man

‘He’d never top himself, Amanda. Never.’

‘People change, Aitch. You have.’

He let it pass. People change. His father used to say that all the time, as if he could actually talk in italics. People change. It was one of his favourite parables. Father loved his parables. Harry had seen the clip on TV.

‘It’s a flip-flop,’ some smirking BBC television interviewer was hectoring Robin Burnett when he was Chief Secretary to the Treasury.

‘Certainly, it’s a change in direction,’ Robin agreed smoothly.

‘A change in direction?’ the interviewer repeated, his voice dripping with scorn. ‘This government has just done a complete economic U-turn and …’

‘John Maynard Keynes,’ Robin Burnett interrupted, ‘was once asked why he had changed his mind about some aspect of economic policy. And do you know his reply?’

The interviewer opened his mouth like a goldfish.

‘Well, do you?’ Robin Burnett persisted.

‘I …’

‘No?’

Robin Burnett was on top form, intimidatory, like a pike about to swallow the goldfish. He leaned towards the interviewer and wagged his finger.

‘Keynes would thunder, “When the facts change, I changemy mind.” And then he would say, “and what do you do,sir?” So, what do you do, Mr Day?’

And Robin Burnett laughed. The interviewer was crushed. Harry thought it was funny that his father would quote Keynes at all, given his views on Keynesian economics, but there you are. The TV viewers would laugh too.

‘Painkillers,’ Amanda was saying.

‘What?’

‘Painkillers. What he swallowed. Co-proxamol. Is that a name of a painkiller? And paracetamol. And some other –ol. Oh, yes, alcohol. I knew there were three –ols. Whisky. The police said it was The Oban. That would be father. Nothing but a good malt.’

‘That saves us identifying the body,’ Harry suggested. ‘If he had a bottle of The Oban beside him, it was him all right.’

‘Harry!’

She only ever called him ‘Harry’ like that when she was upset. ‘How can you talk like that when …’

He wanted to avoid tears.

‘I mean, Amanda, just as you suggested, if he did try to commit suicide, there would be a good malt whisky involved in the story somewhere,’ Harry replied emolliently. ‘That’s all.’

‘Anyway, Aitch,’ Amanda recovered, ‘the police are wandering around in white suits. Forensic officers, they call them. And then there’s something else. They asked me to check out father’s house in London.’

Harry blinked.

‘He hasn’t got a house in London.’

‘Exactly what I told them. Just the cottage in Tetbury, I said. So then this police officer says, very suspicious now, “Oh, really, Miss Burnett?” And he does something with his eyebrows while he’s saying it, like he regards me as a total toss-pot. And then this other one asks how often father visits his flat in Hampstead.’

‘His flat in Hampstead?’ Harry echoed.

‘Yes,’ Amanda went on. ‘They showed me papers scattered all around the floor where they found him, photographs of this mansion block and utility bills with a Hampstead address and the name Robin Burnett on them. The police need to check it out. Today, they said. And they want one of us – which means you, Aitch – to go along. I’ll stay here for a bit and then go to the hospital. One of us should be at the hospital in case he …’

‘Dies,’ he said brusquely.

‘Recovers,’ she corrected him. ‘In which case, I’ll call you. And if he dies, then I’ll also call you. You go check out the Hampstead place, yes?’

‘Yes,’ Harry agreed.

She gave him the details.

‘And you?’

‘I want to get out of here before the TV crews arrive. It’s already on the radio. “Disgraced Thatcher minister gravelyill.” Something ghastly like that.’

Oh, god. Harry’s heart sank. Disgraced Thatcher minister. His father’s life and career reduced to a headline. That headline. The nightmare really was starting again.

‘Funny thing,’ Amanda said, ‘after the card he sent me last week.’

‘The card?’ Harry felt numb. He knew he was sounding like an echo.

‘I kept it. Here, in my bag.’

He could hear her rustle around.

‘Pretty picture. Birds in clouds and blue sky. Inside a few lines of Persian poetry about birds having to fall before they can fly, for “in falling they’re given wings”. Sweet. Let me read the message … “I hope that one day you and Harry will understand everything.”’

‘Understand everything?’ Harry repeated, twisting his face.

‘“… because to understand all is to forgive all.”’

‘Yeah,’ Harry scoffed. ‘Well, what I understand is …’

She interrupted.

‘“… and that because you were only children at the time, you could not possibly understand, so you can not forgive.” More stuff like that, and then there’s a bit at the end when he asks if I would be prepared to listen to him if he told me the whole story. The words “whole story” were underlined. He said the time was right.’

‘His time, maybe,’ Harry said. ‘My time was right years ago. Did you reply?’

‘Yes.’

‘What did you say?’

‘I said, fine. I called him and he sounded pleased. We were going to meet. Then he asked if you would come along. I said there was no point in asking you. Your mind was made up.’

She sounded thoughtful.