Deep Water (7 page)

During the journey home, Sally seemed depressed. ‘I shouldn’t have brought you,’ she muttered,
accelerating
out of the drive.

‘Because I’m a schoolmistress?’

‘You probably think I’m a slut.’

‘Of course I don’t.’

‘Most people do who know about James. The Cornish are low church moralists. Even the local pillars are hypocrites.’

‘The war must have opened their eyes.’

‘If it has, most don’t let on. You’d be amazed how often I’m told that Ferndene’s a sink of iniquity. There’s a creepy mural in the church, called “Souls in Purgatory”. I know for a fact that the vicar’s bitchy wife thinks I should be roasting there.’ She laughed mirthlessly as they sped along between black hedgerows, guided by the pencil thin beams of her masked headlamps. ‘I’ll tell you what
is
sinful: being forced to go on living with a man you’re sick of.’ The wind poured through the open windows making Sally’s hair fly. ‘Jesus, was I glad when the war came along, with loads of new excuses for getting out of the house: Red Cross, evacuees, entertaining pilots. Blimey, they were sad when they arrived. Most had lost friends, and were scared stupid on their own account. So I cheered them up with the odd peck on the cheek.’ She changed gear for a corner. ‘Some wanted more than that, so I thought what the hell. They might be dead tomorrow. And that was incredibly arousing: the thought that every fuck might be the last. Then I met James and fell head over heels, so I stopped seeing all the rest. And now I’m terrified all the bloody time in case he’s killed.’

‘Does your husband know about him?’

‘He suspects. But he’s got his work, and he’s got our son. They’re all he really cares about.’

‘Where is your son?’

‘Staying with a school friend till next week. Mark’s sixteen and wonderful in spite of it.’

‘Don’t you miss him when he’s away at school?’

‘I did when he was little. But now I’m thankful he’s
not around to cramp my style.’ She turned to Andrea and grinned in the darkness. ‘Aren’t you sometimes secretly pleased your lad’s miles away?’

Andrea looked out at the passing trees. ‘Never. I often wish I could care a lot less.’

Sally touched her arm. ‘I love the way you don’t get prim with me even when you don’t see eye to eye. If only more people were like you down here. I could cope with a scandal myself, but Mark would hate it. As the doctor’s wife I’m meant to set an example to the lower orders. The irony is that Mark’ll soon be grown up and gone, and I’ll probably lose James by not going off with him now.’

Andrea felt a lurch of panic. She’d thought herself quite different from ‘good time’ Sally – in some ways she didn’t even like her – but their situations were disturbingly similar: both having husbands whose work mattered more to them than anything except their sons. Fellow-feeling swamped Andrea as they sped towards the river.

The water was black as ink as they crossed the bridge over Polwherne Creek. Across it, the road sloped upwards and the trees thinned to reveal a panoramic view of the estuary. Sally stopped the car and they gazed in silence at the bar of moonlight stretching across the sea.

At first all they could hear was the tick-tick of the cooling engine and the gentle whispering of oak leaves overhead. Faintly at first, a new sound became audible: a low droning that grew louder. Instinctively, Andrea reached for Sally’s hand. Two
fighters dipped down out of the darkness and swept seawards, leaving the estuary behind.

*

Leo woke with a start. Someone was speaking to him.

‘I’m off now.’

Justin’s face loomed darkly in front of him. Leo glanced at his luminous watch. The hands pointed to quarter past one.

‘Can’t you forget about going?’ he faltered.

‘Course not,
espèce
d
’idiot
,
fou.
’
French was Justin’s best subject.

‘You’re the one who’s fou,’ muttered Leo. ‘I’ll tell my mother if you’re not back by four. I ought to tell her now.’

‘Stop moaning and come too.’

‘No thanks. What’ll you say if mum catches you pushing a bike through the hall?’

‘That I’m sleepwalking.’

‘Ha, ha.’

‘Anyway it won’t happen. She went to bed half an hour ago. Ta-ta for now.’

Leo watched Justin tiptoe down the garden path with his bicycle and then disappear from view into the lane. He felt relieved and ashamed at the same time, and wished he had Justin’s courage; but he sensed that, if he did, he might also suffer from Justin’s moods. He lay down and tried to sleep but whenever he closed his eyes he imagined Justin
swimming
and getting cramp. Instead, he forced himself to visualise Justin walking back over the rocks on the shore where they had first seen the naval ships. Again
and again he told himself that his friend’s swim was over and that he was coming home. But though Leo’s waking dream was remarkably real in every detail, he wasn’t fooled by it.

Being realistic, Leo knew there was little chance that his friend would be back until four or
four-thirty
. So when he looked out at the garden, where the leaves of a large tree were moving like a shoal of grey-green fish in the moonlight, he did not really imagine he would see Justin creeping through the gate. After all he had only been gone an hour, but fear was already tightening its grip on his mind, making him long to look out every minute or two. A desire to defecate sent him hurrying to the lavatory. ‘I’ll be blamed,’ he thought, imagining the worst as he sat on the lavatory. ‘I said nothing when a few words to mum could have saved Justin’s life and now he’s drowned and nothing can bring him back.’ Soon after Leo returned to bed, his heart leapt at the sound of the latch on the garden gate. He raced to the window. Justin was pushing his bike up the path.

‘Tell me everything,’ begged Leo, dragging Justin into his room.

‘There’s nothing to tell.’ Justin sat on the edge of Leo’s bed and smiled to himself as if enjoying a private joke. ‘The gunboat wasn’t there. Only the minesweeper and the
MTB
. No sign of the, small boats either.’

‘Maybe they’re anchored somewhere else.’

‘Why would they be?’ Justin sounded put out.

Leo said reasonably, ‘Their engines might need repairing in a yard.’

‘Not three at a time.’

Justin’s certainty irritated Leo. ‘Oh, I forgot. They were away on a secret mission.’

‘I won’t give up, whatever you think.’

Leo said flatly, ‘You’ll go out night after night, and sleep in the day?’

‘That’s right.’

When Justin was up in his attic, Leo could hear him moving about the room, taking off his shoes, and finally getting into bed. Leo had hoped that the whole mad adventure would be over in a day or two, and that then they would be able to enjoy a normal holiday; but now it was obvious it wasn’t going to stop. At least not until Justin could manage to climb aboard a vessel and see for himself. Till then, there would be more sleepless nights and hours of waiting.

Andrea had been wondering what account of her evening to give to Leo and was relieved, in the event, not to be asked to give any. At breakfast, both boys seemed preoccupied with their boiled eggs – rare delicacies at the best of times – but they became more animated on being told that they could go sailing later that morning.

‘I’ll take you in the car,’ offered Andrea.

‘Can’t we go by bike? It’s all downhill,’ said Leo.

Andrea couldn’t tell whether her son’s coldness of the previous evening had lasted through the night. She said, ‘You must both wear life jackets.’

‘Aye aye, cap’n,’ giggled Leo, unexpectedly kissing his mother.

Suddenly both boys were laughing helplessly, for no reason she could fathom. When they had gone, Andrea contemplated driving to the hill behind the club to see how they were doing. But the idea of spying on them was repugnant: having hired the dinghy, she would trust them.

While Rose was piling the breakfast things onto a tray, she hummed quietly to herself, taking occasional glances at Andrea. ‘Where did ’ee go weth doctor’s wife, ma’am?’

‘An officers’ club.’ The girl picked up the tray smartly. ‘What’s wrong, Rose?’

‘I cudden say, reelly.’

In view of Sally Lowther’s warning about local prejudices, Andrea let Rose leave the room without pressing her to elaborate. To avoid being the subject of local tittle-tattle, she would have to be careful. Recalling Sally’s remarks about the vicar’s wife, Andrea decided with time on her hands to look at the purgatorial fresco. Though an agnostic, she enjoyed churches, especially for oddities like lepers’ squints and misericords. Why not for a vision of hell?

On entering St Peter’s, she walked past the Boy Scouts’ banners and the neat piles of prayer books. A monument near the font caught her eye. ‘
Here
lyeth
interred
the
body
of
Mary
relict
of
Henry
de
Roos
,
Gent.
A
lady
who
gave
constant
heed
to
her
husband
through
ten
years
of
his
patient
affliction,
and
uncomplainingly
returned
to
God
ten
of
her
twelve
children,
and
was
yet
an
example
in
virtue
and
piety
…’ Mary was surely the creation of a professional writer of epitaphs.

The Judgement Day mural extended in patchy fragments above two arches in the nave. A line of men and women was being poked and prodded into a fire by a posse of pitchfork-wielding devils. The sinners’ naked bodies were white and bulbous, as if the women were pregnant.

To the right of the chancel arch stood a piano, presumably for use when the organ was out of commission. Andrea tried some notes and found that it was not badly out of tune. She was playing the opening bars of a Beethoven sonata when a woman emerged from a door to the right of the altar. Andrea stopped in mid-phrase.

‘So beautiful. I hope you don’t mind my asking whether you’re a professional?’ The woman was carrying a brass flower vase and a jug containing water. She wore a baggy green housecoat over her clothes.

‘I’m a teacher.’

‘We rarely hear good music down here. Are you visiting or staying longer?’

Andrea told her she would be returning to Oxford at the end of the month. The woman moved closer. She had a clever face with inquisitive eyes. ‘My dear, if it’s any interest to you, the local school has a piano, paid for by an appeal – it’s much better than this poor creature. I’m sure the headmistress would be delighted if you would play to the children. They break up next week, like all the state schools.’

‘I can’t promise, but I’ll try.’

‘Splendid. Just tell her Mrs Jefferies suggested it. My husband’s the chairman of the governors,
ex
officio.
He’s the vicar you see. And your name …?’

Andrea introduced herself and they shook hands. Had this quietly spoken woman really had the nerve to rebuke Sally for her way of life? As Andrea was leaving the church, she spotted a rusty metal object fixed onto a pillar, and described beneath
as ‘
A
Gudgeon
from
the
wreck
of
HMS
Anson,
in
which
perished
208
souls
on
14th
May
1784
.’ The way in which Leo popped into her thoughts like a surfacing cork made her wonder whether she ought to drive to the sailing club after all.

*

An easterly wind was blowing directly upstream from the sea, giving the boys a hard time as they tacked to the naval flotilla’s anchorage. But Leo still enjoyed hearing the strange plopping noises inside the centre-plate casing. With the boat heeling steeply, he asked Justin to sit up on the gunwale, which he did grudgingly.

Shortly before his father had fallen ill, Leo had been taken sailing by him, and, though only nine at the time, had learned a great deal. But it was one thing to know the theory and quite another to carry it out in practice. Crucially, Leo did not know how the boat should ‘feel’. So, a vital consideration, such as how far he could safely allow her to heel over before spilling wind or heading up, worried him whenever they were tacking.

While Leo was puzzling over what to do, Justin trailed his fingers in the water as if bored to death. This added insult to injury, since Leo was already irritated with him for insisting that they look at the warships. Leo would himself have preferred to land on a beach and laze about.

‘Ready about!’ shouted Leo, pushing the tiller across, but neglecting to say, ‘Lee ’o!’, since this traditional nautical announcement had already caused Justin too much amusement. ‘Leo says “Leo” because
he loves his name. Leo says “Leo” because he’s
fou
.’

On the new tack, they would surely manage to get round the next tree-covered point. Then they would be able to see whatever beastly grey ships were behind it, and then, with luck, forget the navy for the rest of their sail.

‘The gunboat’s back again,’ cried Justin
triumphantly
. ‘It must have done something in the night.’

‘A big job?’ suggested Leo. ‘Yuk!’

‘God, you’re an infant.’

‘You too. I’m going to go about before we reach them.’

‘No,’ screeched Justin. ‘I want to get as close as we can.’

‘No point. I can see from here that the two smaller boats aren’t there.’ Leo grinned. ‘Maybe
they
did a big job too, and are going to do another tonight.’ Justin gave him one of his pitying looks. Leo said briskly, ‘All right, ready about.’ But before he could push the tiller across, Justin had grabbed his hand.

‘We’re going closer.’

As they struggled together, the mainsheet slipped from Leo’s hand, causing the dinghy to lose
momentum
and start drifting with the tide onto the gunboat’s buoy. ‘Let go of me,’ pleaded Leo, still struggling.

They hit the metal cylinder with a dull clang that must have been heard all over the ship. Justin grabbed the ring on the buoy to stop them
bumping
along the gunboat’s side, but his fingers lost their grip.

A sailor appeared on the foredeck high above them and shouted, ‘Fend off, you sprogs!’

Another leant down with a boathook and jabbed at them at intervals until they had slipped astern. Even when they were well clear, Leo wanted to scream his anger and humiliation at Justin. ‘What idiots we looked.’

‘Who cares? I spotted the perfect place to get aboard.’

‘That little ladder thing? They won’t leave that out at night.’

‘We’ll see.’

‘
I
jolly well
won’t
see,’ cried Leo.

Lacking the heart to go on sailing, Leo headed for the club. He was distressed that the boat hook had dented the dinghy’s gunwale, splintering the wood.

‘Let me have a go at steering,’ demanded Justin. With the wind behind them, they were going much faster, without heeling.

Leo stared up at the mainsail, as if he had not heard the request. He was trying to remember what his father had told him about avoiding gybes. Push the tiller away from you, or pull it towards you? Towards you, he decided.

‘Heads,’ screamed Leo, as the boom crashed across, narrowly missing Justin’s head but striking him on the shoulder.

‘You need bloody well teaching,’ screamed Justin, rubbing his upper arm. When Leo had apologised Justin rapidly recovered his composure. ‘Those
sailors
looked shocked as hell to see us so close to them.’
He laughed loudly at the memory. ‘I’m bloody glad we came.’

Leo managed a wan smile.

*

At the sailing club, Andrea found that the boys had not yet returned. On leaving the village, she had spotted the school and, remembering her open invitation, returned there to kill time. Entering the yard, she saw an attractive bell tower and a mock Gothic door marked ‘Infants’. In the tall schoolroom was a motley gathering of girls and boys, many in old boots and ragged stockings, with the big boys crammed into desks designed for much smaller children. On the wall behind the teacher’s desk was a map of the world – Mercator’s projection – in which Britain was placed in the centre, and the red imperial parts looked much larger than they really were.

The teacher on duty was a neatly dressed young woman with curly hair and an openwork jumper, revealing disconcerting flesh-coloured shades of silk in the gaps. Moments after mentioning Mrs Jefferies’ suggestion that she play to the children, Andrea was led to the piano – not a new one, as she had expected, but a reconditioned Broadwood upright. She had thought of playing from memory a few of Schumann’s
Kinderszenen
,
but, seeing so many
children
of four and five gazing up at her, and noticing that many older ones fidgeted all the time, she asked to see any music that might be kept in the classroom.

Andrea’s programme finally included, ‘Early One Morning’, ‘Billy Boy’ and ‘Yankee Doodle’. The
children
were not given songbooks, so Andrea invited
them to sing along if they knew the words. Several tried bravely, but fell silent on realising how few others were singing. Afterwards, several girls begged Andrea to come again. The school’s second teacher, who had always played the piano for them, had recently joined the
ATS
. One boy, who resembled Leo in his sweetest incarnation, fetched a banana from his desk. Was it, Andrea wondered, a bribe to lure her back?

‘Want a ’nanee do ’ee?’ he asked, shyly proffering this all-but-unobtainable piece of fruit.

Andrea looked to Miss Lawrence for guidance. ‘Should I?’

‘Don’t worry. Michael’s father’s in the merchant navy and often gets them.’

‘Thank you
very
much,’ she said bending down and giving Michael a hug.

As Andrea closed the lid on the keyboard, a thickset boy kicked her benefactor. The headmistress caught the offender by the ear, and with
commendable
dexterity whacked him behind his knees with a ruler. ‘Bullies must be beaten,’ she sighed.

Before Andrea departed, Nancy Lawrence pressed a large key and a smaller one into her hand. ‘You’re welcome to play the piano, any day, after school. In the holidays too.’

‘That’s wonderful,’ murmured Andrea, touched by the offer.

‘Come again before term ends. The children love new faces. They went wild over the naval officers who came last week.’ She smiled radiantly. ‘On Tuesday we’re being shown over one of their ships.
Have you ever met any of our coastal forces people, Mrs Pauling?’

‘Very briefly.’

‘Such kind and courteous men.’

‘I’m sure,’ murmured Andrea.

*

By the time Andrea returned to the sailing club, the boys had landed and cycled away. She found the secretary bent over paperwork in the office.

‘How did they get along?’

‘Made an awful hash of landing, poor chaps. Tore the pintles out of the rudder as they ran in on the hard.’

‘I wish someone could teach them.’

‘I’ll ask around.’

‘I’d really appreciate that.’

Back at the house, Andrea waited for Leo to tell her about the rudder, but sensed that something else was bothering him more. So, to avoid pressing him, she recounted how she had played for the village children, and produced the banana.

‘I say, mum, where did you get
that
?’

‘From a boy in school.’

‘Give us a bite,
please
.’

‘Maybe.’

Instead of pleading with her, Leo looked worried again. At last he said, ‘Justin asked Rose
something
rude.’

‘What was that?’

Leo blushed fiercely as he gazed through the glass doors into the garden. ‘He asked to see her bottom for ten bob.’

Andrea laughed before she could stop herself. ‘I never expected
that
,’ she gasped. ‘What did she say?’

‘She was hopping mad.’

‘I’m not surprised. It really isn’t at all funny.’

‘Then why did you laugh, mum?’

‘The shock. I’ll have to talk with her I guess.’

‘I bet she wasn’t shocked really. Justin said she’s sly.’

‘She had every right to be mad at him.’

During the silence that followed, Andrea did not like the way Leo was studying her. She sensed that he was trying to sound casual as he asked, ‘Who was the woman who came for you yesterday?’

‘Sally Lowther. She’s the doctor’s wife.’

‘She looked tarty.’

Andrea felt her cheeks burn. ‘Did Justin say that?’

‘He could have.’

‘Mrs Lowther uses a lot of make-up, but that doesn’t make her anything bad.’

‘Justin’s mother wears loads.’

Andrea moved towards him and said firmly, ‘
Listen
, sweetheart, sometimes unhappy people like to make other people sad, too. It makes them feel better. So don’t listen if Justin tries to make you worried about the people I see.’