A Line to Kill

The festival had organised a sandwich lunch at The Georgian House, a gastropub and B & B just opposite the cinema, and it was here that I caught up with Hawthorne, who was talking to a man I didn’t know. About forty, lank black hair framing a crumpled face with troubled eyes, he looked like a junior doctor about to break bad news.

‘This is Colin Matheson,’ Hawthorne told me.

I was completely thrown. At breakfast I’d suggested meeting Colin Matheson, but Hawthorne had shown no interest at all. ‘Oh – you’ve met!’ I said.

‘Yes. We’ve just had a bit of a run-through … how we’re going to do the session.’ He looked at me accusingly. ‘Where were you, mate?’

‘I was listening to Maïssa Lamar.’

‘I’m afraid I decided to give that one a miss,’ Matheson said, managing to sound both regretful and relieved. Judith had told me he was a barrister and I have to say I was surprised. He was softly spoken. He didn’t seem assertive enough. ‘I’ve just been going through some of the questions with Mr Hawthorne,’ he went on. ‘We’ve almost sold out, by the way.’

I wasn’t sure if that ‘almost’ was good or bad news. After all, the cinema only had about ninety seats.

‘Maybe you and I could have a quick chat about it?’ I suggested, weakly.

‘I’m not sure we’ve got the time.’ Colin smiled. ‘Anyway, I’m sure you don’t need any rehearsal, a pro like you.’ He glanced at his watch as if that settled the issue. ‘We thought we might go to Elizabeth Lovell’s session after lunch,’ he added. ‘Judith managed to snag some seats. You’ve probably heard, they’re a bit of a hot ticket! Would you care to join us?’

I’d had no intention of going, but if Hawthorne planned to be there …

‘I’d love to,’ I said.

‘Good. Good. I’ve heard her talk before and she is quite remarkable. If you believe in that sort of thing …’

‘And do you?’

‘I try to keep an open mind.’

I became aware of a figure moving towards us, making his way through the lunchtime crowd with obvious determination. It was the historian, George Elkin, and he didn’t look happy. Colin Matheson turned round, saw him and visibly flinched. He knew what was coming.

‘I’ve just heard the news …’ Elkin said.

‘George! Have you met—’

‘The power line. You’ve decided on the route.’

Matheson had no fight in him at all. His eyes seemed to sink deeper into his head. ‘Actually, George, we haven’t announced it yet.’

‘I know you haven’t announced it. I can understand that you wouldn’t want to announce it. But you’ve done it all the same.’ He turned to Hawthorne and me. ‘There are five mass graves on Longis Common. A thousand poor souls murdered by the Nazis, finally at peace. My grandfather is one of them. Think of it! He was in his twenties when they starved him and worked him to death. But these people …’ There were actually tears in his eyes as he fought for control. ‘They’ll desecrate the whole area, tear it up for a handful of euros and to hell with what everyone else thinks.’

‘Actually, there are quite a lot of people on the island who support NAB,’ Matheson said.

‘And there are a great deal more that don’t.’ Elkin stood there, seething. ‘This is all about Charles le Mesurier, isn’t it? He’s the guiding light behind NAB and you’re all dancing to his tune.’

‘That’s completely untrue.’ Matheson looked more uncomfortable than angry. ‘And to be honest with you, this really isn’t the best place—’

Elkin cut in. ‘You know what the prisoners used to call this island? Le rocher maudit. “The accursed rock”. It seems to me that very little has changed.’ He spun on his heel and walked away.

Matheson folded his hands and shrugged in apology. ‘I’m afraid tempers are running a little high when it comes to the power line,’ he explained. ‘I’m very sorry you had to witness that. George is a good man and he means well, but that was really inappropriate.’

‘Is it true what he said?’ Hawthorne asked. The encounter had pricked his interest. ‘Le Mesurier is in charge?’

‘Not at all.’ Now Matheson was blushing. ‘I made the decision. Or rather, the States-appointed committee did. Mr le Mesurier has been a strong advocate for NAB because he believes it will bring wealth to the island. I can assure you he has the best intentions, as does everyone who’s involved!’ He looked into the crowd, trying to find Elkin. ‘It really was too much of him to attack me in that way. Of course, George lost his grandfather in the most terrible way, killed by the Nazis. But even so …!’

We finished our sandwiches with a certain amount of awkwardness and then made our way back to the cinema. By now a queue had formed, but Matheson led us in round the side and down to the front where three seats had been reserved. Very quickly, the room filled up. Soon every seat was taken and there were more people standing along the sides and at the back. There were two armchairs on the stage in front of the screen and as the lights dimmed, Judith Matheson marched across the stage, followed by Elizabeth Lovell, who was being guided by her husband. She waited while they took their places.