The Black Halo (82 page)

They were sitting at breakfast one morning when their father, who was a doctor, said, ‘I wonder if any of you have seen my cigarette case. I can’t seem to find it.’ He was very
fond of this cigarette case firstly because it was made of silver and secondly because it had been given to him as a present by a grateful patient: in fact he no longer smoked. None of the boys
admitted to having seen it. Their father couldn’t understand what had happened to it.

They had a maid whose name was Marie; she was eighteen years old and came from France. She was cleaning out the bedrooms when she found the case under Joe’s pillow.

‘Madame, monsieur,’ she said excitedly, ‘I have found what monsieur lost.’ And she produced the cigarette case and handed it to Dr Fellowes.

‘In Joe’s room, you say?’ he said in a puzzled voice.

‘Yes, monsieur, under his peelow.’

Dr Fellowes sent for Joe, who pleaded ignorance.

Finally Dr Fellowes said to him, ‘I had thought better of you. Look at what I have done for you and this is the return I get.’ For the rest of that day he sat in his study in a sad
silence. His wife too turned a cold eye on Joe.

Ben glanced at Robert and realised what had happened. It was Robert who had put the cigarette case in Joe’s room.

From that time the doctor and his wife became less friendly to Joe. They sent him to a private school almost as if they wanted to get rid of him. Joe said nothing in his own defence but suffered
in silence. He knew, however, who was responsible for his disgrace.

He was in a school different from that of his two foster brothers and was so lonely that he studied very hard, and became the most brilliant student in his class. While he was still in school
his foster father died and only his foster mother was left. He often remembered his foster brothers and thought, ‘Well, it was natural. It was hard for them not to be envious.’ But
nevertheless he did feel a slight bitterness.

When their father died and only their mother was left, Robert and Ben, who were now sixteen and fourteen, began to show their real natures, although Robert was the worse of the two and also the
leader. When they were home on holiday they would come in late from dances and also ask for large sums of money, and their mother, thinking that she had harmed them by her kindness to Joe, gave
them what they wanted. At eighteen and twenty years of age, they began to drink and refused to go to university. They never saw Joe who was still studying as hard as ever; in fact they didn’t
want to see him.

When their mother died they were left a large sum of money as well as the house, which they sold. They squandered all their money and didn’t worry about the future. They bought fast cars
and crashed them. They thought their money would last forever. As time passed, their memory of Joe grew dim. They never heard of him and didn’t wish to. They lost all their money and were
soon very poor, reduced to living in cheap lodgings.

It was a cold winter’s night with ice on the street. Ben, now forty, and Robert, thirty-eight, came out of the warm pub. They saw in front of them a jeweller’s window which blazed
with jewels of all kinds. They stood in front of the window and studied them. Then they looked all around them; there was no one to be seen but themselves.

They had no money at all; the week’s dole had been spent.

Robert looked at Ben and Ben looked back at Robert.

It was a most peculiar thing but the jewels in the window reminded Ben at that moment of the glimmering colours of Joe’s dressing gown and it came to him as if in a vision that all that
had happened to them had begun with that, and he felt resentful towards his big brother Robert. But Robert didn’t seem to feel any guilt at all.

Suddenly, while he was still standing in his dream, he saw Robert kicking the jeweller’s window, as if he wished to break in amongst the fiery jewellery. A star appeared on the window but
the glass didn’t break. At that same moment there was the harsh jangling of an alarm bell and a policeman came running towards them across the ice. They stood there as if transfixed and then
began to run. They might have got away if it hadn’t been for the slipperiness of the ice, for Robert slipped as he was running and Ben waited for him and before he knew where they were they
were handcuffed and in a van.

When they were in the police station, the sergeant said to them, ‘You can phone a lawyer if you wish.’

Robert replied gruffly, ‘We can’t afford a lawyer.’

‘In that case,’ said the sergeant, ‘the state can provide you with one. There is a Mr Agnew who is very good, they say. He spends his time helping poor prisoners.’

All the time they were in the cell the brothers didn’t speak to each other, except that Robert once said, ‘That was bad luck. If it hadn’t been for the ice I would have got
away.’

The cell they were in was cold and miserable and they recalled more luxurious days. Suddenly a policeman opened the door of the cell and said, ‘Mr Agnew to see you.’

At first they didn’t recognise him but he recognised them in spite of their ragged appearance. It hadn’t occurred to them that their foster brother Joe would become a lawyer. So the
three stood there in that miserable cell till finally Joe said, ‘Don’t you recognise me?’

It was Ben who recognised him first.

‘You’re Joe, aren’t you?’ he said quietly.

Robert raised his head and said in a bitter voice, ‘Now I suppose you’ll get your own back.’

‘My own back?’ said Joe. ‘What do you mean?’

‘You know it was me and Ben who framed you, don’t you? All those years ago.’

‘Yes,’ said Joe, ‘but it was my own fault too. It was hard for you, I understand. I’ve thought a lot about that incident.’

Then in a change of tone he said, ‘I believe you were trying to break into a jeweller’s shop.’

‘Yes,’ said Robert, and then suddenly, ‘It was just me. Ben had nothing to do with it.’

Joe’s face became suddenly radiant.

‘I see,’ he said. And it was only then that he embraced both of them and it was as if they really were brothers.

Robert stared at him in wonderment.

‘You mean,’ he said, ‘that you are going to help us?’

‘Yes,’ said Joe, ‘why do you think I became a poor man’s lawyer? Now sit down and let’s talk. I feel responsible for you.’

A prisoner, carrying his shaving gear, walked past, wrapped in a grey blanket.

‘You see,’ said Joe, ‘they don’t have nice bright dressing gowns in this place. There is nothing to be envious of here.’

‘I understand,’ said Robert, and it seemed as if for the first time he really understood.

Biblical reference: Genesis chapters 37–45

‘I’ll tell you something,’ said Daial to Iain. ‘I believe in ghosts.’

It was Hallowe’en night and they were sitting in Daial’s house - which was a thatched one - eating apples and cracking nuts which they had got earlier that evening from the people of
the village. It was frosty outside and the night was very calm.

‘I don’t believe in ghosts,’ said Iain, munching an apple. ‘You’ve never seen a ghost, have you?’

‘No,’ said Daial fiercely, ‘but I know people who have. My father saw a ghost at the Corner. It was a woman in a white dress.’

‘I don’t believe it,’ said Iain. ‘It was more likely a piece of paper.’ And he laughed out loud. ‘It was more likely a newspaper. It was the local
newspaper.’

‘I tell you he did,’ said Daial. ‘And another thing. They say that if you look between the ears of a horse you will see a ghost. I was told that by my granny.’

‘Horses’ ears,’ said Iain laughing, munching his juicy apple. ‘Horses’ ears.’

Outside it was very very still, the night was, as it were, entranced under the stars.

‘Come on then,’ said Daial urgently, as if he had been angered by Iain’s dismissive comments. ‘We can go and see now. It’s eleven o’clock and if there are any
ghosts you might see them now. I dare you.’

‘All right,’ said Iain, throwing the remains of the apple into the fire. ‘Come on then.’

And the two of them left the house, shutting the door carefully and noiselessly behind them and entering the calm night with its millions of stars. They could feel their shoes creaking among the
frost, and there were little panes of ice on the small pools of water on the road. Daial looked very determined, his chin thrust out as if his honour had been attacked. Iain liked Daial fairly well
though Daial hardly read any books and was only interested in fishing and football. Now and again as he walked along he looked up at the sky with its vast city of stars and felt almost dizzy
because of its immensity.

‘That’s the Plough there,’ said Iain, ‘do you see it? Up there.’

‘Who told you that?’ said Daial.

‘I saw a picture of it in a book. It’s shaped like a plough.’

‘It’s not at all,’ said Daial. ‘It’s not shaped like a plough at all. You never saw a plough like that in your life.’

They were gradually leaving the village now, had in fact passed the last house, and Iain in spite of his earlier protestations was getting a little frightened, for he had heard stories of ghosts
at the Corner before. There was one about a sailor home from the Merchant Navy who was supposed to have seen a ghost and after he had rejoined his ship he had fallen from a mast to the deck and had
died instantly. People in the village mostly believed in ghosts. They believed that some people had the second sight and could see in advance the body of someone who was about to die though at that
particular time he might be walking among them, looking perfectly healthy.

Daial and Iain walked on through the ghostly whiteness of the frost and it seemed to them that the night had turned much colder and also more threatening. There was no noise even of flowing
water, for all the streams were locked in frost.

‘It’s here they see the ghosts,’ said Daial in a whisper, his voice trembling a little, perhaps partly with the cold. ‘If we had a horse we might see one.’

‘Yes,’ said Iain still trying to joke, though at the same time he also found himself whispering. ‘You could ride the horse and look between its ears.’

The whole earth was a frosty globe, creaking and spectral, and the shine from it was eerie and faint.

‘Can you hear anything?’ said Daial who was keeping close to Iain.

‘No,’ said Iain. ‘I can’t hear anything. There’s nothing. We should go back.’

‘No,’ Daial replied, his teeth chattering. ‘W–w–e w–w–on’t go back. We have to stay for a while.’

‘What would you do if you saw a ghost?’ said Iain.

‘I would run,’ said Daial, ‘I would run like hell.’

‘I don’t know what I would do,’ said Iain, and his words seemed to echo through the silent night. ‘I might drop dead. Or I might . . . ’ He suddenly had a terrible
thought. Perhaps they were ghosts themselves and the ghost who looked like a ghost to them might be a human being after all. What if a ghost came towards them and then walked through them smiling,
and then they suddenly realised that they themselves were ghosts.

‘Hey, Daial,’ he said, ‘what if we are . . . ’ And then he stopped, for it seemed to him that Daial had turned all white in the frost, that his head and the rest of his
body were white, and his legs and shoes were also a shining white. Daial was coming towards him with his mouth open, and where there had been a head there was only a bony skull, its interstices
filled with snow. Daial was walking towards him, his hands outstretched, and they were bony without any skin on them. Daial was his enemy, he was a ghost who wished to destroy him, and that was why
he had led him out to the Corner to the territory of the ghosts. Daial was not Daial at all, the real Daial was back in the house, and this was a ghost that had taken over Daial’s body in
order to entice Iain to the place where he was now. Daial was a devil, a corpse.

And suddenly Iain began to run and Daial was running after him. Iain ran crazily with frantic speed but Daial was close on his heels. He was running after him and his white body was blazing with
the frost and it seemed to Iain that he was stretching his bony arms towards him. They raced along the cold white road which was so hard that their shoes left no prints on it, and Iain’s
heart was beating like a hammer, and then they were in the village among the ordinary lights and now they were at Daial’s door.

‘What happened?’ said Daial panting, leaning against the door, his breath coming in huge gasps.

And Iain knew at that moment that this really was Daial, whatever had happened to the other one, and that this one would think of him as a coward for the rest of his life and tell his pals how
Iain had run away. And he was even more frightened than he had been before, till he knew what he had to do.

‘I saw it,’ he said.

‘What?’ said Daial, his eyes growing round with excitement.

‘I saw it,’ said Iain again. ‘Didn’t you see it?’

‘What?’ said Daial. ‘What did you see?’

‘I saw it,’ said Iain, ‘but maybe you don’t believe me.’

‘What did you see?’ said Daial. ‘I believe you.’

‘It was a coffin,’ said Iain. ‘I saw a funeral.’

‘A funeral?’

‘I saw a funeral,’ said Iain, ‘and there were people in black hats and black coats. You know?’

Daial nodded eagerly.

‘And I saw them carrying a coffin,’ said Iain, ‘and it was all yellow, and it was coming straight for you. You didn’t see it. I know you didn’t see it. And I saw
the coffin open and I saw the face in the coffin.’

‘The face?’ said Daial and his eyes were fixed on Iain’s face, and Iain could hardly hear what he was saying.

‘And do you know whose face it was?’

‘No,’ said Daial breathlessly. ‘Whose face was it? Tell me, tell me.’

‘It was your face,’ said Iain in a high voice. ‘It was your face.’

Daial paled.

‘But it’s all right,’ said Iain. ‘I saved you. If the coffin doesn’t touch you you’re all right. I read that in a book. That’s why I ran. I knew that
you would run after me. And you did. And I saved you. For the coffin would have touched you if I hadn’t run.’

‘Are you sure,’ said Daial, in a frightened trembling voice. ‘Are you sure that I’m saved?’