The Bellwether Revivals by Benjamin Wood Page A

himself onto the bed. ‘Well, consider this a week’s notice. Next Tuesday, I’m going to The Orchard and nobody’s going to stop me. Are we clear?’
    ‘I’ll let the Staff Nurse know.’ Oscar smiled. He stayed for a moment, putting the old man’s clothes into drawers, rehanging them. He felt the bulk of
The Passions of the Soul
in the apron pocket of his uniform, but he knew it wasn’t the right time to return it. Dr Paulsen was lost in thought, rocking back and forth at the foot of the bed.
    He was on his way out when Paulsen called to him: ‘Have you ever been up in a balloon?’
    He turned in the doorway. ‘Excuse me?’
    ‘A hot-air balloon. Have you?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘Well, you should. It’s the most incredible experience.’ Paulsen exhaled emphatically. ‘I don’t think a man can say he’s truly lived until he’s seen the world from up in a balloon. You can see for miles. You can breathe the air. Everything’s so tranquil up there, and the only noise comes from the birds flapping through the clouds, and the whooshing of the gas every now and then. I swear, you don’t even realise how vast the world is until you get higher. When you can look down and see your own house, the old turf you’ve trodden your entire life, all of this—’ He gestured with his arms towards the window; beyond the glass, the well-tended grounds of Cedarbrook were doused in sunlight. ‘—you realise just how insignificant it all is. From up there, the fancy old colleges are like rabbit-droppings. You really must go up in a balloon one day.’
    ‘Yeah. Maybe I will.’
    ‘Go this weekend. Take that girl of yours—what’s her name? The student?’
    ‘Iris,’ he said. The word rang in his head.
    ‘Take her. There’s nothing more romantic. Herbert and I used to take balloon rides every few months. We couldn’t get enough.’
    ‘I don’t think I’ll be seeing her anytime soon.’
    The old man didn’t seem surprised by the news. He gave a long, protracted blink but his expression didn’t change at all. ‘Herbert was a King’s boy, y’know. A strange young thing, he was, when I met him. Only owned three outfits, wore them in rotation, whatever the weather. He used to have this smell about him—musky, a bit sweaty. It wasn’t completely unpleasant. There was so much to love about him. I don’t know what he saw in me, I really don’t … Can’t remember why I’m even telling you all this now.’ Paulsen took a long moment to recapture his train of thought. A sprig of hair had sprung up on the back of his head and he smoothed it down with his fingers. ‘I suppose what I’m saying is, it’d be nice to take him up in a balloon one more time. I think he would like that. It’s been ages since we saw each other. Sometimes, you can hold a grudge for so long you forget why you were holding onto it. And before you know it, half a lifetime has gone by and all you’ve got is an empty fist and a lot of regret.’ He gave a small cough, clearing his throat dryly, and hung his panama from one finger, as if spinning a plate. ‘I suppose I should put this back in the wardrobe until next week.’
    ‘I’ll see what I can do about The Orchard,’ Oscar said. ‘Maybe I can take you there myself.’
    Paulsen nodded. ‘Now you’re talking.’
    Later, when Oscar was filling out his time sheet in the staff room, he found himself distracted by the thought of hot-air balloons. He tried to imagine standing in the basket, peering down at the tiny world, but it only made him feel lonely and directionless. And so he pictured himself sharing the flight with Iris, her lithe hand operating the gasflame, her long hair stirred by the wind, and he realised the picture looked so much better this way. He’d missed the comfort of thinking about her, day by day, the company of her image in his mind.
    He didn’t quite feel ready to go back to Harvey Road. Instead, he went home and looked for the name Bellwether in the phone book. He