Postcards from the Past (23 page)

The owners are another naval couple, submariners moving to Faslane for two years, and they are leaving the house furnished. Sarah is quite pleased that she and Dave won’t have the expense of new furniture but slightly disappointed that once again they will be living with other people’s choice.

‘Much better to wait until we can afford to buy our own place,’ Dave says.

And he’s right, of course, and at least the move will be very straightforward. Their personal belongings won’t take much packing and Dave has already decided that he’ll hire a small van and move the whole lot in one journey.

Sarah pulls her laptop towards her and switches it on. It’s time to do some work before George wakes and wants his bottle.

*   *   *

Harry, too, is planning his departure. It’s not too painful because he knows he’ll be back soon and, anyway, they’ve all been here before. When he was reading Geology at Oxford everyone got used to him appearing at short notice and then dashing away again. The really good thing about Dom and Billa and Ed is that they don’t fuss about him; they don’t attempt to pin him down. They always welcome him, and any friends he likes to bring along, and this makes him very much more inclined to want to see them. His friends love the whole scene and consider Harry to be very lucky to have such a bolt hole. Indeed, some of his university friends still occasionally visit Dom, staying in Mr Potts’ bedroom, having a weekend surfing or walking and going to the pub.

As he gathers his belongings, brings out his bags, Harry feels rather pleased with himself. It seems that Tilly will be sorted out after all. The dogs’ tea party was a great idea and things have moved on pretty quickly. She’s got the job at the retreat house and seems to be much more relaxed with Clem: they look all set to get it together.

‘Thanks, Hal,’ she said, hugging him before she drove off to work. ‘You’ve been fab. Don’t break a leg on the slopes and come home soon. Wait till you see my new quarters. I’ll be settled in by the time you’re back. Stay in touch.’

‘I’ll text,’ he promises. ‘And we’ll be Skyping. I shall want to know how you and Clem are shaping up. And little Jakey.’

As for Jakey … Harry smiles to himself. He’s rather touched by Jakey’s hero-worship.

On Saturday afternoon, Tilly drove him over to say goodbye to Jakey. A small party had been organized. They were going to have tea, watch
Madagascar
and then have a pizza supper. Jakey was so proud to be host, to organize it all. During tea he and Harry had tried to outdo each other on quotes from the film and Jakey soon discovered, to his joy, that Harry really did know it just as well as he did. At intervals one or the other would say ‘Smile and wave. Smile and wave,’ and they’d do a high-five and laugh together.

‘I wish you weren’t going,’ Jakey said at the end, looking suddenly very sad.

‘But I’ll be back before you know it, mate,’ Harry said. ‘Don’t forget I’m going to teach you to surf this summer.’

Jakey perked up a little. ‘And you said you’d send me some postcards,’ he reminded Harry.

‘For sure I will. From Geneva, and when I get back to Jo’burg.’

‘You could start them, “Hi, mate”,’ suggested Jakey rather wistfully, thinking of showing them to his friends at school and bragging about his friendship with this dazzling young man.

‘I wouldn’t start them any other way,’ Harry assured him. ‘Oh, and I’ve got you this.’

He took out a photograph that Billa had taken at the dogs’ tea party and printed off on her computer. She’d laminated it so that it wouldn’t get dirty or tear, and Jakey reached eagerly for it and studied it. He was in the centre of the photograph next to Harry and they were surrounded by the three dogs. Bear sat next to Jakey, their heads at nearly the same level, Jakey’s arm around Bear’s huge furry neck. Bessie stood beside Harry and Hercules lay in front of the group.

Jakey’s face was transformed with joy. It was everything he could desire. There he was with the god-like Harry, the enormous Bear and the two other dogs. He couldn’t wait to show it to his friends.

‘Can I keep this and take it to school?’ he asked eagerly.

‘Sure,’ said Harry. ‘It’s yours. I’ve got my own copy to show to the family back home.’

Jakey drew a deep contented breath. When the time came, he and Clem walked to the car with Tilly and Harry and watched them get in. Harry let the window down and winked at Jakey, whose mouth began to turn down at the corners.

‘No tears, mate,’ he said. ‘Remember our secret. “Smile and wave. Smile and wave.”’

Now, Harry wanders downstairs with his bags and dumps them in the hall. Dom is listening to
You and Yours
on Radio 4 whilst preparing an early lunch before taking Harry to the train. They eat companionably, talking about the relatives with whom Harry will be staying in Geneva and the skiing, and then the journey back to South Africa. Harry is grateful that Dom makes no fuss; Harry might be taking the train for a day out at Penzance, such is the older man’s pragmatism.

Later, as they drive though the lanes towards the A39, Dom pulls in to make room for another car coming in the opposite direction. The lane is narrow and Dom is too busy manoeuvring to take stock of the driver. Harry recognizes him, though, and raises a hand.

‘Friend of yours?’ asks Dom, pulling away.

‘It’s the chap who’s staying at the Chough,’ says Harry. ‘Christian Marr. He’s an energy consultant.’

Dom frowns, as if the name has rung some kind of bell in his mind, but Harry begins to talk about Tilly and Clem and the moment passes.

*   *   *

Through his rear-view mirror Tris watches the car drive away and laughs softly: it’s like an omen. He’s returning just as the boy is leaving. The timing is perfect. He is quite certain that Dom hasn’t seen him – even though he’d be unlikely to recognize him after all these years – but it doesn’t matter too much if he has, because Tris is going to make his move at last. First, he plans to get Billa and Ed alone. He suspects that they’ll be much more vulnerable, more open to his explanations about the past, without Dom around, but sooner or later he’ll have to face up to all three of them. Tris is excited. Weedhound has come up with some very special cocaine capsules and just for the moment they’re blocking out all the symptoms of the tuberculosis that is eating his lungs away. He’s on a high and ready to go.

He checks back into the Chough and is welcomed by the landlord. His little suite of rooms is clean and fresh and he unpacks, still chuckling to himself now he’s decided to make his move. Of course, he might be wrong, and the boy and Dom are just out for a drive, but he doesn’t think so. He’d seen the bags on the back seat. Something tells him quite certainly that Harry is on his way and if Dom is driving him to the station he’ll be gone for a couple of hours; perfect.

Tris sits on the end of the bed and takes his mobile out of his pocket. He scrolls down to Billa’s number, taken from her mobile, and dials. She answers quite quickly.

‘Hi,’ he says. ‘Hi, Billa. So how are you after all this time? It’s me. It’s Tris. Hope you got my postcards. I’ve just arrived and I thought I’d pop over to see you and Ed. I’m not far away. See you very soon. ’Bye.’

He switches off and begins to laugh again. She was too shocked even to speak, apart from saying ‘Hello’. He picks up his satchel, checks for his car keys and goes out.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Billa sits silent, still holding her phone.

‘Who was it?’ asks Ed.

They’ve only just finished lunch and are still at the table which as usual is strewn with books, papers; also a dark red vase of daffodils and a small camera.

‘It’s Tris,’ says Billa. ‘He’s here. He’s on his way.’

Ed gapes at her. ‘What?’

What with the dogs’ tea party, the good news about Tilly’s job and Harry’s imminent departure there hasn’t been time to think of Tris. Now, suddenly, they are back in the nightmare world of fear and speculation. What does he want?

‘We could go out,’ suggests Ed. ‘Just get in the car and go. Where was he speaking from?’

Billa shakes her head in answer to both questions. There is no point in running away and she has no idea where he is.

‘We can’t let him think he’s frightened us,’ she says. ‘And all he said was that he’d see us very soon. Damn. And Dom will be driving Harry to Bodmin Parkway by now. We’re just going to have to face him. Help me clear this lot away, Ed.’

They get up and start to clear the table, each getting in the other’s way, terrors rattling like marbles in their heads. Ed fills the dishwasher, clattering and clashing the plates in his nervousness, and Billa drops a handful of knives on the floor. She swears beneath her breath and Bear climbs off the sofa and comes to see what she’s dropped. She is comforted by his huge presence and drops down on one knee so as to put an arm around his neck and hug him as she gathers up the knives.

‘We’ve got to try to be prepared,’ Ed is saying. ‘We mustn’t let ourselves be stampeded by whatever he says or does. We know he’ll try to wrong-foot us, probably threaten us, and we simply mustn’t let him.’

Billa looks up at him. She feels the familiar sensations of affection for him and the need to protect him. Yet he looks quite strong; quite tough now that the moment is at hand. Billa remembers how Ed at twelve defended their father’s study, stood up for his memory, and she nods and tries to smile at him.

‘You’re absolutely right,’ she says. ‘Whatever he says, we won’t be fazed. Or at least we won’t let him see if we are. We’ll just pretend we think he’s looking us up for old times’ sake. Play him at his own game. After all, you won when it came to the study. Never forget that.’

Ed nods back. Now that it’s happening, he feels that same anger rising. Yet when Tris taps smartly on the kitchen door and opens it, just as if he is a member of the family, his gut churns again. And the real shock to both of them is that he looks so much like Andrew. They stare at him as if he is a ghost come from the past to mock them.

Tris grins at them; that old wicked grin that dares and provokes. He hangs his leather satchel on a chair.

‘Well, well,’ he says. ‘Just like old times. So what’s new?’

Bear, who has been drinking at his bowl, comes forward to inspect the visitor and Tris steps back a little, making a comical face and raising both hands in mock defence.

‘Whoa,’ he says. ‘Now this chap’s new. What the hell is he? A bear?’

‘That’s exactly what he is,’ says Ed. ‘Bear, this is Tris. You have my permission to kill him if he tries any nonsense.’

‘Hey,’ says Tris, laughing protestingly. ‘Well, now, there’s a welcome. And it’s nice to see you, too, Ed. And you, Billa.’

Billa is completely nonplussed. The fact that Tris is so like Andrew has completely knocked her off balance; she simply doesn’t know how to react. She remembers the postcard of Bitser and wants to scream at him and turn him out of the house. At the same time some deeply ingrained tradition of hospitality makes her try to smile back at him.

‘We’ve just finished lunch and we’re going to have some coffee,’ she says. ‘Would you like some?’

‘Thanks. Yes, I would. It’s really weird being back here, you know. Nothing’s changed. It’s like walking into a time-warp. Of course, I never got to say goodbye to you guys, did I?’

Billa pushes the kettle on to the hotplate and Ed sits down again. He is determined to remain calm, unmoved by this sudden time shift, but there is a sense of unreality here. He looks into those light frosty eyes and his spine stiffens in readiness for the attack.

‘You certainly disappeared very suddenly,’ he agrees. ‘We never quite knew what happened.’

Tris grins at him. ‘But I guess you didn’t care much, eh? Too glad to see the back of me. Good riddance to bad rubbish. Wasn’t that the phrase back then?’

There is a little silence and he laughs out loud, as if he has scored a point. Billa puts the jug of coffee on the table with some mugs.

‘Milk?’ she asks him. ‘Sugar?’

He shakes his head. ‘Black’s just fine, thanks.’

Billa pours three mugs of coffee and sits down. ‘Yes, we were glad to see the back of you,’ she says coolly. ‘But it’s always puzzled us. What happened?’

Tris sits back in his chair; he visibly relaxes and the smile fades from his eyes.

‘It’s quite a story,’ he says rather grimly. ‘How long have you got?’

Billa and Ed stare at him warily; once again they are confused by conflicting emotions. They don’t want to trust him but there’s some expression of veracity in his face now that unsettles them.

‘Long enough for a story,’ says Ed, picking up his mug.

Tris shrugs. ‘OK. I’ll keep it short. I was born in France. My mother was French. My father killed her when I was four years old. I don’t know if it was an accident. He hit her, she might have fallen and cracked her head open, or he might have battered her to death. I’ll never know the truth about that. I heard cries one night and I got out of bed and went downstairs. My father was going out of the front door so I went into the drawing-room and found Maman lying on the floor. There was blood in her hair and she didn’t move, she wouldn’t answer me, and then my father came back with some old sacks and I hid behind the curtain while he bundled the body up and took it out into the grounds.’

He pauses to sip his coffee. Ed and Billa sit in horrified silence. Instinctively they know that Tris is telling the truth.

‘I raced back to bed,’ Tris goes on, ‘and then he came up to say that there had been an accident and Maman was dead and that we must go away at once. He said that if we stayed I would be taken away from him and he might go to prison. He said that I must never, ever, tell anyone about Maman. He didn’t know that I had seen her, of course. After that we moved from place to place but each time I thought we might settle down, have a home again, we’d have to lift and shift. That’s what happened here. My father was tipped off that Interpol had tracked him down and that he would be extradited back to France to stand trial. I think that there were other things apart from murder that they were after him for, but he couldn’t wait around to find out.’