Roots of Evil(85)

‘Yes, I’m late,’ agreed Liam. ‘And I’m sorry for it, what with punctuality supposedly being the politeness of kings, although I shouldn’t think the particular king who said that had ever tried getting across London on a Saturday afternoon – it’s nearly as treacherous as negotiating the waters of the Styx, in fact the Styx would be preferable because you could bribe the ferryman to queue-jump—Will I sit down now I am here?’

‘Sit where you like,’ said Inspector Fletcher, and Liam considered the room for a moment and then took a seat next to Lucy.

‘You’re the wicked baroness’s granddaughter,’ he said, which Edmund felt to be an ill-chosen remark but which Lucy did not seem to mind. ‘So if this film is very high-brow and esoteric you can explain it to me as we go along. I’ve never actually seen Lucretia von Wolff on film, in fact I’ve never seen a silent film at all now I come to think about it. Although I have,’ he added unexpectedly, ‘heard Conrad Kline’s music somewhere or other, and it’s extraordinarily good.’ He regarded Lucy for a moment, and then said, ‘He would be your grandfather?’

‘It was never proved, but we’re pretty sure he was,’ said Lucy tranquilly, and Edmund sucked his teeth at the indelicacy of this. She glanced at the inspector. ‘I’ve got the backing music Conrad wrote for Alraune. It’s an old vinyl recording and it’ll be pretty scratchy because it’s nearly as old as the film – it was recorded quite soon after the premiere – but I’ve played it and it’s reasonable. I know you said it wasn’t vital to have it, but since it was available I thought I’d bring it. We can put it on the turntable when the film starts and with a bit of luck it’ll be in sync with the action.’

‘I’d like to hear it,’ said Liam at once. ‘If Inspector Fletcher doesn’t mind.’

‘So would I.’ This was Michael Sallis.

‘By all means let’s have it,’ said Fletcher, and nodded to the projectionist, who had been earnestly explaining to Sergeant Trendle about intermittent motion and toothed sprockets and escapements.

The lights were turned down, although it was not as dark as a conventional cinema would be – Edmund presumed this was because Quondam’s staff would need to make notes when they watched a film in here. A rather sparse set-up it was though; just a few chairs grouped around a couple of tables, although one of the tables had a computer terminal on it. There were no windows, of course, and the screen took up three-quarters of the far wall. Still, Lucy had arranged for a pot of coffee and a pot of tea to be brought in, which Edmund supposed was something.

A few scratchy clicks came through the loudspeakers as the old gramophone record was set on the turntable, and the heavy whirring of the old projector began. There was a crackle of light, and then an oblong of fly-blown whiteness appeared on the small screen, immediately followed by the German studio’s symbol.

Lucy had thought she would be able to face watching this film perfectly calmly, but as soon as Conrad Kline’s music swept in, her heartbeat punched painfully against her ribs, and she was aware all over again that a tiny fragment of a long-ago world was about to be prised open. And there are some pasts that should be left alone, she thought. There are some pasts that should be allowed to die and I think this is one of them.

The opening sequences of the film were darker and more menacing than she remembered, or perhaps she had simply been too young to pick up the darkness. She was able to pick it up now, though, and she found it disturbing. And how much of the film’s present impact was down to what had come afterwards, to the inevitable parallel between Alraune’s mad scientist creator and the Nazis’ macabre attempts at altering the blueprint of human life – the experiments on Jews and on twins…? Astonishing to remember that the film predated that by at least ten years, thought Lucy.

The actual conception of Alraune in the gallows’ shadows was rather tame compared with some of the stuff you saw on film today, but it was still extraordinarily evocative, and the music held a strong undercurrent of sexuality at this point. There was a faint rhythmic pattern that, at the romantic end of the spectrum, might have been a lover’s heart beating but that, at the comic end of the spectrum, might have been a bedspring twangingly bouncing. And then listen to it again, and it could equally well be the sound of a gibbet, creaking and swaying with the weight of a strangled murderer…I do wish I’d known you, said Lucy to Conrad Kline’s ghost. You’ve got a bit overshadowed by Lucretia as far as the family’s concerned, but I think I’d have liked you very much.

The scenes slid into one another – to one accustomed to twentieth-and twenty-first-century technology they were not entirely seamless, but the links were smooth enough not to be distracting. Lucy spared a thought to wonder if Inspector Fletcher’s own experiment, whatever it might be, was working. She glanced round the room. Michael Sallis’s face was partly in shadow; he had not said a great deal since arriving, but he had seemed pleased to see Lucy again, and he appeared interested in the film. He was sitting with Francesca Holland, Trixie Smith’s colleague, who had raised the alarm when Trixie vanished. Lucy thought Francesca was not exactly pretty but she had the kind of face you would want to keep looking at. She was watching the film closely, and as the prostitute who was Alraune’s mother harangued the scientist, Lucy saw her exchange a brief appreciative grin with Michael, as if they had both recognized some allusion or allegory in the scene.