Elsingham's Son

A Family Drama in Sixteen Scenes

by Airn Hethaway

email: s_psoli@yahoo.co.uk

Scene VI

Horatio wandered about the large Elsingham estate, shoulders hunched against the breeze. Hamlyn had been right, it was cold, but he had to be alone, work things out. He went over their recent conversation in his mind:

     ‘Prince, I think Claude killed your father! Or at least, he didn’t do anything to help, which is the same thing, isn’t it? I saw them, through the window of your father’s study. I was outside, taking the dogs for a walk. It was evening and the lights were on inside. I saw Claude and your father talking, or rather they were shouting, having a real go at each other. Then, suddenly, your father keels over he must have had some sort of heart attack. I saw Claude go over to him and instead of helping him, he just stood there, looking down at your father and laughing in his face. Then your father just went limp. I saw Claude feel for a pulse, still smiling. By not calling for help, and by not administering CPR, Claude as good as murdered your father, Prince. And then, after he was sure your Dad was dead, the son of a bitch calmly goes over to the drinks table and pours himself a drink. He just stands there, looking down at your father’s dead body, drinking and laughing. Bastard! Then he leaves to tell Gerda. The rest you know.’

     Prince had listened to the hurried, fevered account, his eyes ablaze, cold as ice, gripping his boyhood friend tightly by the arm. When he spoke, his voice rasped in his throat.

     ‘Have you mentioned this to anyone else? Why didn’t you tell me sooner? What about the police? Tell me, Horatio; why wait until now?’ 

     ‘Who would have believed me, Prince? It was my word against his. I’m just an estate-worker’s son, with a couple of run-ins with the police for doing drugs. Your uncle is a well-connected man, Hamlyn. Christ Almighty, he’s in the same Lodge as the Chief Constable and plays golf with just about every judge in the district. He’d crush me, Prince, if I dared open my mouth. Besides…’

     Horatio hadn’t really wanted to say what came next, but out of love for his friend he went on:

     ‘I know it sounds mad, but I’ve had some dreams about this, for about a month now. I dream that your father comes and haunts me, looking accusingly at me. He tells me to tell you what I saw and also that…’

     Here he faltered yet again. He looked at his friend, who stared unseeing back at him. Horatio swallowed. He went on to recount what else he dreamt Hamlyn’s father had said in his recurring dream.

     ‘He told me that it was alright for me to tell you … to say … to tell you that I love you, Prince. I’m gay. I’ve loved you for years … I … I’m sorry … your father said you would understand...’

     The dark-haired young man hung his head, unable to look his friend, the man he had loved since he was a teen, in the eye.

     Walking in the large park, Horatio thought I must be mad to tell him all this, all just based on a dream! He’d rightly call him a lunatic and sever their friendship. Yet Horatio had come to a crisis in his own life. Having secretly been in love with Prince since his early teen years and never being able, or rather, never having the courage to tell him, Horatio thought he would explode. But to say all of that based on a fucking dream for Christ’s sake! He turned to go, but Hamlyn held his arm tightly, pulling him back.

     ‘Horatio, let me take all of this in, okay? Claude, my dad and all the rest of it. Fuck! How can we prove it though?’

     He fell silent, still grasping Horatio’s arm. Then he looked at his friend again.

     ‘Dad was right about so many things, Horatio. Sometimes it felt as if he could see right through me. Why didn’t he see Claude for what he was? Or maybe he did. That’s why he kept him out of the business. That’s why he told me to think long and hard before I came to any decision about Poppy.’

     He stared hard at Horatio.

     ‘He knew, Horatio! Dammit, he knew!’

     Then, releasing his friend’s arm, he had turned and walked quickly away, leaving Horatio alone on the high wall, his eyes not taking in the spectacular views all around the old house; they were turned in on his own soul, where all seemed blackness and dark as night.