The String Diaries (11 page)

‘He’s going to be very weak for some time. And he’s going to be even worse tomorrow. Once the adrenalin wears off and the stiffness sets in, he’ll be virtually immobile.’

‘I think we’ll be safe here for up to a week. Even if Jakab discovers the whereabouts of all the places we could have gone, he’ll have to be incredibly lucky to pick this one straight away. We’ve left plenty of red herrings that will seem like more attractive options. They should tie him up for a while.’

‘You’ve planned this well.’

‘Not me. All of us. It’s become second nature. A way of life.’

‘Where will you go?’

She looked at her hands. ‘I’m sorry, Sebastien. I think it’s better if I don’t say.’

He nodded, and she could see the empathy in his eyes.

‘What you’ve done,’ she said. ‘I owe you so much.’

‘You don’t need to thank me. Or apologise for not telling me where you’ll go. You’ve kept Nate alive because of your actions so far. You’ve given Leah prospects for a future. I’ll bet you don’t hear this enough, Hannah – you’re incredibly brave, incredibly strong. I can’t say I’ve met another who would have achieved what you have.’

She shook her head. What had she done that was so praiseworthy? Run? Flee? It was all she ever did. How many years had she thought about taking the fight to Jakab? How many nights had she fantasised about killing him? Time and again she had told herself that as long as Nate lived, as long as someone remained to care for Leah, she would do whatever was needed to end this nightmare and offer her daughter the chance of a life she had been denied.

But that’s all it is, isn’t it? A fantasy. When the opportunity came knocking, what did you really do?

To Sebastien, she asked, ‘Do you think we’re doing the right thing? Running, I mean? Do you think we should make a stand? Set up some kind of trap for him? Try to end this once and for all?’

‘I debated that with your father many times.’

‘It’s difficult to defeat an enemy when you don’t know his face.’

‘And it’s not as if it hasn’t been tried before. I’ve read those diaries too.’

‘How long have the Eleni been operating?’

‘Over a century, if you add it all up. Around seventy years, in its current incarnation.’

‘And how many
hosszú életek
have you encountered in all that time?’

‘You know the answer to that, Hannah. It’s like searching for raindrops in the ocean. At the moment, Jakab remains our best hope.’

‘So you think we should react. Stop running.’

‘Only you can answer that. I won’t play God with your lives.’

She stood up. ‘I’m going to get some rest. What will you do?’

‘I’ll go home.’ He climbed to his feet. ‘I’ll be back tomorrow. You need groceries, fuel for the fire, diesel for the generator. It’s safer if we leave the gas supply for now. You don’t need any more eyes around here if we can help it. If you’re willing, I’ll leave Moses with you too. Despite what Nate said, he’s a good dog. He won’t let any harm come to you.’

‘Thanks Sebastien.’ At the front door, she planted a kiss on the whiskers of his cheek.

Up in the bedroom, watched by the dog, Hannah stirred the dying embers of the fire and moved to the window. Pulling open one of the curtains, she looked out at the night. The moon had reappeared through gaps in the cloud, and its light glittered on the surface of the lake. She watched Sebastien’s Land Rover cross the bridge, crawl up the track to the main road and disappear over the ridge.

Hannah still thought there was more to his story than he was sharing. But that would have to wait. She had done all she could tonight – had managed to get Nate and Leah to the farmhouse alive. She hadn’t managed to save her father.

Sebastien’s words echoed in her mind.
We don’t know enough to speculate.

But she knew.

Climbing into bed next to Leah, she kissed her daughter’s hair and lay down in the darkness. She thought she would not sleep. But she did.

Hannah woke once during the night. Moses was at the window, his paws on the sill, nose to the glass. Casting off the remnants of her dream, she slipped from the bed and moved to the dog’s side.

A red deer stag stood at the edge of a copse on the far shore of the lake. It gazed across the water towards the farmhouse, the felt of its antlers glowing in the moonlight. For the briefest of moments, the stag locked eyes with her. Then it stepped back into the undergrowth, and was gone.

The ashes were cold in the grate and the windows stubbled with frost when Hannah woke a few hours later. Dawn had broken, muting the colours in the room to a flat blue. She rolled over in the bed and saw Leah lying on her back, staring up at the filigree of cracks that ran across the ceiling.

Noticing that her mother was awake, the girl turned to face her and asked, ‘Did the Bad Man come?’

Reaching out and pulling her daughter into her arms, Hannah forced a smile. She had long feared this moment. While she had resolved to shield Leah from fear as much as she could, she had also vowed never to lie to her. If she had learned one thing more clearly than any other from reading her ancestors’ diaries, it had been not to shy from the truth or avoid the difficult questions.

‘Yes, darling, he did. But we got away from him and we’re safe.’

‘Did he see me?’

‘No, he never saw you.’

Leah twisted out of her mother’s embrace and sat up in the bed, rubbing her arms. ‘It’s cold in here. Where are we?’

‘We’re in the mountains. We drove through the night to get here. Do you remember being in the car? You were fast asleep when we arrived, and you didn’t even wake up when I carried you upstairs.’

‘I remember leaving Grandpa’s.’

Hannah climbed out of bed. She had slept in her clothes, unable to relax enough to strip off. Stepping into her boots, she laced them up.

‘Mummy, there’s a dog in our room.’

‘That’s Moses. Do you want to say hello?’

‘Funny name for a dog.’

Moses came to the bed and licked Leah’s hand. The girl laughed, pulling it away.

‘Is Daddy here?’

‘Yes, he’s downstairs.’ Hannah went to the other side of the bed and perched next to Leah, brushing a tangle of hair out of her daughter’s eyes. ‘But he had an accident yesterday. He’s hurt himself and we’re going to have to look after him.’

‘Will he be all right?’

‘I hope so, honey. I really do.’

‘Can we go and see him?’

She slapped Leah on the leg. ‘Come on, then.’

In the kitchen, they found Nate still asleep. Dark circles shadowed his eyes. His complexion was pale, but his breathing was regular. Hannah could have asked for no more. She watched Leah’s reaction carefully as the girl went to her father’s side.

‘Did he hurt his tummy?’

‘Yes. That’s why it’s all wrapped up. To make him better.’

‘What happened to his arm?’

‘We put a little hole in it so we could pour in the medicine.’

Leah glanced round at her mother, her expression betraying her scepticism. ‘I never heard of
that
before.’

Hannah tossed the remaining logs onto the fire, and managed to coax a flame into life. At the sink, she filled the kettle with water, put it on to the stove and lit the gas.

As the logs began to burn and the kettle boiled, Nate stirred and opened his eyes. He blinked, looking around the room to orient himself, then winked at Leah. ‘Hello scamp,’ he said. ‘Come over here and give me a kiss.’

‘We’ve got a dog called Moses, like God did,’ she told him solemnly.

Nate laughed, choked, and launched into a fit of coughing. ‘Is that so?’ He looked up at Hannah. ‘How are you doing?’

She took a glass from the cupboard and filled it with water, bringing it over to him. ‘I’m fine. We’re all fine. Worried about you but fine all the same. Here. I’m making tea, but sip this first. How are you feeling?’

‘Like I’ve been run over by a train,’ he replied. ‘I don’t think I can move.’

‘You’re not meant to. You should never have got up last night. That’s a battlefield repair Sebastien’s given you. I’m not doubting our friend’s handiwork but if I see you off that couch again I’ll have to knock you on the head with a frying pan.’

Leah giggled at that.

‘Where’s Seb?’ he asked.

‘He went back to his place. Said he’d drop in later with supplies.’

Nate nodded, drinking his water. When the kettle boiled, Hannah made tea for them both. She found a dusty can of Coke in the pantry and gave it to Leah, whose face lit up.

‘What are you going to do this morning?’ he asked.

She rolled her eyes towards the back of Leah’s head. ‘I need to have a talk. Explain a few things. I thought we’d go for a stroll. Get some fresh air.’

Nate nodded his agreement, then indicated the dog. ‘Do you want to take Mutley here?’

‘I’d feel better if he was here with you,’ she said.

Hannah retrieved Leah’s coat from the car and waited while the girl shrugged into it before taking her outside. The wind had blown itself out overnight, but low grey clouds promised fresh rain. Water dripped from guttering. Moisture clung to the stems of plants and the gravel of the driveway. The chill air sliding down from the mountains brought a bite that made her eyes water but invigorated her nonetheless.

Leah ran over to the cowshed and popped her head inside, disappointed to find it empty. Together they investigated the stone-built storehouse. Its roof had partially collapsed, just as Sebastien had indicated; the stacked logs of wood were soaked and useless. In the second outbuilding they found the generator clacking away. Nate had taught her how to maintain one, and she agreed with the old man’s assessment of its diesel reserves. Back outside, they walked past the abandoned stables and crossed the garden to the fence that delineated the farmland beyond. The fields attached to Llyn Gwyr had not been grazed in a long time. High grasses and wild flowers stretched before them, surrendering to scree, boulders and the rocky ascent up the mountain.

Hannah crouched down beside Leah and pointed to the horizon. ‘You see that peak? That’s Cadair Idris, one of the highest mountains in Wales. It means Giant’s Seat.’

‘Does it have glaciers?’

‘Not any more. But once it did. Do you know what they say? If you spend a night at the top, the next morning you’ll either wake up a poet, or mad as a hatter.’

Leah laughed. ‘That’s silly.’ She bent down and pointed. ‘Look at these.’

Hannah followed the line of her daughter’s finger to the mud around the bottom of the fence.

Animal prints. Lots of them.

Odd to see so many in one place. Hannah spotted the hoofprints of deer, what could have been wild goat, fox, and others too tiny to identify. She pointed out all the tracks she recognised, as well as a harvest mouse nest clinging to a thistle.

Leah noted it all with interest, and then said, ‘Is the Bad Man coming here?’

Hannah stood up. She took the girl’s hand. ‘Come on, let’s go and look at the lake. We can talk as we walk.’

She found it surprisingly easy to explain what had happened, and was encouraged to see how well Leah seemed to handle it. She knew the girl was worried by what she heard, despite Hannah’s attempt to remain upbeat – or at least neutral – in the language she chose. Over the last two years she had begun to use the diaries to tell Leah stories. While she had not bluntly divulged their content, she had used them to spin cautionary tales, fables she hoped would allow her daughter to grasp the broader implication of their situation without exposing her to the horrific detail.

‘Is Grandpa going to meet us here?’ Leah asked, as they traipsed past the outbuildings towards the lake.

The question brought an agony of grief. ‘I don’t think so,’ Hannah replied. She’d left her father with Jakab; the chances of her seeing him again were remote.

They had forged a tempestuous relationship during her adult years. Although she had not inherited Charles’s quick temper, he had passed on his stubbornness, and that had led them to some spectacular clashes. He had not been a perfect father, and she had not been a perfect daughter, but they had loved each other fiercely, even if they did not always get along.

Hannah wrapped an arm around her daughter’s shoulders. They skirted a patch of boggy ground and found a path of slate and stones. Looking about her, she realised just how well her father had chosen this bolt-hole. The valley in which the farmhouse nestled made them invisible to anyone travelling the main road. If it had not been for the farm buildings behind her, there would be no evidence of human activity within sight.

They rounded a rise and came upon the lake. The overcast sky had turned it to the colour of steel, a breeze dimpling it like a sieve. A flock of Canada geese flew in formation above their heads.

‘Mummy, a boat!’

Hannah stared out across the lake, her skin prickling. Sure enough, a white wooden rowing boat bobbed on the water a few hundred yards from the shore. Two fishing rods jutted from its side. In the middle of the boat sat a man bundled up in a jumper and hat.

She felt her heart beginning to race. The man was watching them.

‘Who is it, Mummy?’

‘I don’t know, darling. I’ve no idea.’

She felt Leah wrap an arm around her waist. ‘Is it the Bad Man?’

What could she say to that?

The man lifted an arm and waved to them. Hannah stared back. Now he stood up. He pointed at himself, pointed to their side of the shore, and mimed the actions for rowing. This last act seemed to unbalance him, because the boat rocked violently beneath his feet. He leaned forwards and backwards in quick succession, trying to stabilise himself. Finally he lost his balance and tumbled into the bottom of the boat.

‘He nearly fell in the water!’ Leah screeched, laughing.

The fisherman’s ineptitude had also blunted the sting of fear in Hannah. She watched as he recovered himself and threaded his oars. Putting his back to them, he began to row the boat towards the shore.

Think, Hannah. What do you do?

She had no option but to stand her ground. It was obvious where they had come from; Llyn Gwyr stood directly behind them. If they abandoned the shore before the stranger reached them, they would have no clue who he was, and would be trapped inside the house with questions they could not answer. Worse, they would doubtless leave him curious and puzzled by their behaviour.