Touching the Wire (22 page)

Adam turned a carving in his
hands. ‘The wolf was given in memory of the victims of war. A way of getting
the horror out of his system, maybe.’ He looked at her as if considering
something. ‘They would go well in our current exhibition in London.’

She arranged the carvings on
the table, rotating them to face different ways. ‘The base of the one Gran gave
me looks like a half-moon someone’s taken bites out of, and this one is plain
weird.’ None of it made sense. She leaned towards him, conscious of his
closeness. ‘You do see the need to open the third one, Adam? I know
it’s
part of the puzzle.’

‘I don’t think I can agree
to it being sawn up.’

‘But I have to know.’

He picked up one of the
mutilated carvings that Grant had done his best to reassemble and shook his
head. ‘The Duxford one is perfect. Nothing suggests it’s hollow. I’d hate to be
the one to spoil it.’

‘A skilled cabinet-maker
could make them almost as good as new. The Duxford one is only on loan. I do
have authority to remove it, if you could find that letter.’

‘I can see you feel strongly
about this. The museum’s restoration department could put the carvings back
together. I’ll swing it if you agree to let me exhibit them all.’

‘It’s a deal.’

‘Then we’ll do it.’ He
consulted his watch. ‘I should get back to London.’

And he’d take the carving
with him, and maybe change his mind. ‘Perhaps…’ No, what was she thinking?
Effie, or was it Gabrielle, was waiting for him. ‘I expect you’re keen to get
home.’

‘No… not particularly. What
was it you were going to say?’

She should let him go. ‘You
could stay. I’ll phone Lucy. If they’re going to be in tomorrow, we could ask
Grant if we can use his band-saw. You could have my bed. I can sleep down
here.’

‘That would be great, but
I’ve brought nothing with me.’

‘I’ve got a spare
toothbrush. It was a two for one offer…’ Robin would be incandescent if he
found out.

He laughed. ‘What more do I
need? Thank you. But I can’t take your bed. I shall be fine down here.’

Alone at last, the visit to
Lucy’s arranged, she brushed her teeth and stood the rinsed brush in the
tooth-mug. The blue toothbrush lay on the side of the hand-basin. She picked it
up and her hand hovered over the tooth-mug: it was untidy, lying around like
that. She put it next to hers in the mug and switched off the light. She’d
invited a total stranger into her home, yet she felt safer with Adam than she
did with Robin. What did that say about her marriage? Maybe the anger
management course, and the counselling, would help and they could have their
relationship back. Her hand touched the cold side of her bed. Mum was right
about lonely; she didn’t want to spend the rest of her life alone.

***

Charlotte woke too early to disturb Adam:
they’d talked far into the night, although, by some unspoken agreement, neither
dwelt on their personal lives. It was as if both were grateful to escape them
for a while. Her first impressions had been wrong: his craggy exterior hid a
sensitive man. She pushed thoughts of Adam aside and reached for the book by
her bedside.
Out of Chaos: A classical Treatise
. Perhaps the answer to
understanding the carvings was to understand Grandpa.

Out of Chaos came Gaea
(Mother Earth), Tartarus (The Underworld), Erebus (Silent Darkness), and Nyx
(Night). Then, out of Chaos came Eros (Love), and so Nyx lay with Erebus and
bore Aether (Air or Heaven), and Hemera (Day).
Nothing about wolves or flames.

Love? Heaven? Maybe. Night,
Earth, Air and Love were made tangible, at least, though she’d read Nyx was the
daughter of Okeanus, God of the Sea, whose waters girdled the Earth. She
shifted her position.
Nyx also bore Charon (Wealth), and Epiphron
(Prudence).
She could use both of those right now.
With Parthenogenesis
…
That sounded like a lethal germ. …
she bore thirteen dark children: Deceit,
Blame, Doom, Misery, Old Age,
War
…
The names read
like a manic depressive’s shopping list. No wonder Grandpa felt guilt, reading
this.

More children of Nyx,
Goddess of Night, were listed, some of the names she knew from talking with
Grandpa, names like the Keres - the Fates of Violent Death, Thanatos - Death,
Hypnos - Sleep, Nemesis - Goddess of Justice and Retribution. She read on:
and,
with the god Uranus, Nyx bore Lyssa (Madness)
.

Madness… she closed the book
and lay back against her pillow. Had Grandpa been mad? If he was it ran in the
family. Keeping the STI secret from Robin had been madness: if he’d known she
might not be able to have children before they married at least he would have
been prepared. At least she’d know he loved her for herself. The chase after
the carvings was madness.

‘Grandpa, what can I do to
put things right?’ She closed her eyes, and his face struggled to form in the
darkness. An eye, the line of his jaw… she could never capture a complete
image. He’d always been the face behind the camera, the hands shown holding her
as she took her first steps, or the feet beside her while she sat on the floor
opening Christmas presents. She’d saved a space for him, but his page in the
family album would remain forever blank. ‘Grandpa, what should I do?’

Actions have
consequences. Do only what you believe is right.

Clattering came from the
kitchen: Adam was awake. She showered and dressed quickly: he’d need the
bathroom. She placed the blue toothbrush on the hand-basin: her pink one looked
even lonelier. She put Adam’s back beside her own and ran down the stairs. The
Man
and Van
were due with Dobbin.

‘Hope you don’t mind. I made
tea and toast.’

She drank her tea while he
showered. She threw open the door at the sound of a vehicle and hurried out.

‘Just you and me again, is
it, love?’

‘I’ll call Adam to help.
He’s in the shower…’

‘Your husband?’

‘No… Adam’s… he’s not…’

‘You don’t have to explain
yourself to me, love. Life’s too short.’

Adam thumped down the
stairs, his mouth forming an amused curve: the toothbrushes?

Embarrassed, she turned
away. ‘This is Harry. He’s brought Dobbin, my rocking horse.’

‘I’ll give you a hand in
with it. Though where you’re going to put it…’

A heave and Dobbin stood in
pride of place, taking up most of the room. His broken ear was taped to his
muzzle, and Harry had put his shattered leg in a wooden splint. It was good to
have him back.

Adam ran a hand over his horsehair
mane. ‘Looks like he’s seen better days.’

Hadn’t they all? Glue and
paint couldn’t fix Robin, or her marriage. She bit her lower lip. She should be
at home, helping him through it… No, she’d done the right thing. He had to
prove he’d changed. She paid Harry and looked at her watch. ‘Do you want to
follow me to Lucy’s, Adam?’

She bumped onto Lucy’s drive
and waited for Adam to manoeuvre his bike. Children’s toys littered the garden
and music jazzed through open windows. Laughter, mixed with screams, shrilled
from the back garden.

Lucy waved from the kitchen
window. ‘You must have smelled the coffee.’

‘Luce, this is Dr Adam
Bancroft. Adam, my sister, Lucy.’

‘Pleased to meet you, Adam.’

Adam’s mouth hung open. ‘You
didn’t tell me you were an identical twin, Charlotte.’

She laughed. ‘I thought one
of me was enough for you to cope with.’

Lucy smiled. ‘We’ll have
coffee outside. Grant said to help yourself to the band-saw, Adam.’ She put
mugs on a tray and waited until he was out of earshot. ‘I expected Adam to be
older… he’s a bit of a dish. He stayed at yours last night?’

‘He slept on the sofa. It
seemed daft him driving to London only to come back today. And if I’d let him
go he might have had second thoughts about the carving.’

Lucy was sceptical. ‘Does
Robin know you’re entertaining strange men?’

‘No, and don’t you dare tell
him. He wouldn’t understand.’

‘Come on, sis… what
happened? You can tell me. I won’t breathe a word.’

‘Nothing happened. We ate
fish and chips, talked about the carvings and the world in general, and he
slept downstairs.’

‘You do like him though?’

‘I think he’s married. And
so am I.’

‘That isn’t what I asked.’

‘He’s the man who had me
arrested in the War Museum. That scratch on his face…’

‘You didn’t… What were you
thinking of?’

‘At the time, Robin.’ She
waved Robin away, as if he could be so easily dismissed. ‘Adam and I have
declared a truce.’

‘Good. I don’t want World
War Three breaking out in my back garden.’ Lucy picked up the tray. ‘Talking of
wars, how’s Robin’s counselling going?’

She followed Lucy.
‘Recognising he has a problem is a major step forward.’

Adam placed the carving on
the table, and hung his bike jacket over the back of his chair. She moved
closer, her hair brushing Adam’s shoulder and the smell of leather mingled with
the faint smell of shower gel. She separated the two parts of the Duxford Wolf
to reveal the contents.  A square of card fell out. She flicked it over to
reveal a line drawing of a rough cross beneath an arched window, above which
neat letters ranged in neater rows.

All have sinned and
fallen short of the glory of God.

The hatred which divides
nation from nation, race from race, class from class.

Father Forgive.

She frowned. ‘Grandpa wasn’t
religious. Not in the conventional sense.’

Adam reached inside the
carving and unfolded a slip of paper. ‘
Peccavi: There is no atonement too
great, eternal…
’

‘Eternal what?’

‘That’s all it says.’ Adam
reread the words. ‘I have sinned… that’s what peccavi means. Your grandfather
must have been religious, surely, Charlotte… unless this cross means something
else?
No atonement too great
. For what… sin?
The truth shall be
uncovered
. Lies? No, deceit, silence…
Who keeps silence consents
,
remember?’

She rubbed her forehead,
tiredly. ‘X marks the spot? Wouldn’t it have been easier just to tell us what
this great and important truth is? Why does he feel guilty at keeping silent?
We need something more, Adam.’

‘Like what?’

‘I don’t know… The first
carving had a letter stating it must be returned to the solicitor in
Northampton after ninety-nine years, and the instructions they had said the
same about the other carvings. The museum at Duxford must have a letter too. It
could tell us more.’

‘Other carvings?’

‘We believe five in all.’

Adam was undeterred. ‘These
words aren’t random. The way it’s set out… It’s a litany.
Father Forgive
…’

Adam checked his watch. Why was Effie never on
time? Her last-minute changes of plan always disrupted his life. He spotted her
at last, dragging a suitcase on wheels. Gabrielle, a slighter version of her
mother and weighed down with hand luggage, ran after her.

He waved and hurried to help
Gabrielle. ‘Hi, sweetheart.’ He took one of her bags. ‘Effie, why do you always
cut it so fine? You should be checked in by now.’

‘Our flight doesn’t leave
until nine.’

Gabrielle hugged him. ‘Can’t
you come too, Dad?’

‘I’d love to, but…’

‘Your father’s busy.’ Effie
searched her handbag for passports.

‘Maybe I can come out for a
weekend, later in the summer?’ If he could afford it. Paying the mortgage on
Effie and Gabrielle’s home, as well as rent on his London broom-cupboard, left
him short of cash, but he didn’t want Gabrielle to pick up on the fact. She
asked for so little and he didn’t begrudge her the cost of a secure home.

Gabrielle turned to her
mother. ‘Can he, Mum?’

Effie checked passports as
if only now wondering if they were out of date, and looked up absently. ‘Yes,
why not? Mama and Papa would like to see you. Sorry we had to leave earlier
than I told you, Adam. Cousin Pierre is getting married.’

‘And you just happened to
forget that?’

‘I mislaid the invitation.
He rang to see why I hadn’t replied. It wasn’t worth coming home only to go out
again in two weeks for the summer. I don’t like depriving you of time with
Gabrielle, but…’ She shrugged in that way she had of putting all responsibility
for her actions on another’s shoulders.

  ‘I’ll arrange a
flight and let you know. I hope to have found a house near Duxford by the time
you get back, so seeing Gabrielle won’t be a problem.’

Effie was searching the
boarding notices. ‘That’ll be nice. We’d better check in, Gabrielle.’

He took out his wallet and
pressed five twenty-pound notes into Gabrielle’s hand. ‘Enjoy yourself,
sweetheart. I’ll see you soon.’

Her smile made living on
baked beans until payday worthwhile. ‘Thanks, Dad.’ She hugged him again.’ I’ll
text every day until you book the flight.’

Effie grabbed the bag from
Adam’s hand and pushed it into her daughter’s. She gave him a brief kiss on
each cheek. ‘Come on, Gabrielle.’

They joined the queue.
Gabrielle shrugged expressively and he smiled. He waved and watched them
disappear among the crowds before turning away. Part of him went with them, but
part remained. Seeing Effie and Gabrielle hadn’t shaken Charlotte’s face from
his mind.

It was too early to ring
Roger. His credit card wasn’t quite maxed out, he had a full tank of petrol,
and enough cash for coffee and breakfast in the airport cafe. He imagined eating
it on the balcony of the apartment in Lyon where Effie’s parents lived, or at
one of the pavement cafés in La Place des Terraux. A woman, looking for
somewhere to sit, jogged him back to England. He pushed his plate and cup aside
and vacated his seat. Outside, he rang Roger. ‘Are you at work?’

‘All day, Adam. How did you
get on with the interview?’

‘I start in a couple of
weeks if I haven’t ballsed it up already.’

‘How?’

‘It’s a long story. I’m coming
into work. I have something to show you. I’ll tell you about it then.’

‘And how did you hit it off
with the stunning blonde? I hope you thought of a good chat-up line.’

‘I think it went something
like
what the hell did I do to deserve bumping into you twice in my life
?’

‘Twice?’

‘She’s the woman I accused
of pick-pocketing. The hellcat who gave me this scratch on my cheek.’

‘And you’re still alive?’

His blue toothbrush nestled
against her pink one in her tooth-mug. He ached to protect her, and see her sad
eyes smile. ‘Worse, Roger, much worse. I think I’m in love.’

***

Roger was pouring over paperwork, when Adam
placed the Duxford Wolf on the desk.

‘This was at Duxford? How
did you convince the bods there to let you slice off the bottom?’ Roger arched
his eyebrows when he hesitated a moment too long. ‘Don’t tell me they don’t
know? Ye Gods, Adam. Give you one glimpse of a bit of skirt… How are you going
to explain this?’

‘Charlotte says she has the
right to take it away.’

‘And you believed her.’

‘I was hoping someone in
restoration could tidy it up a bit.’

‘And you want me to ask
them, since you don’t work here anymore.’

He brought the other two
carvings out of a bag and placed them either side of the wolf. ‘She’s lent me
these two, by way of a sweetener. Three carvings to exhibit should mollify my
boss. If I leave the Duxford one with you, can you tell them it’s urgent?’

 ‘I’ll do what I can.’

‘If I can return it in the
next few days I may just get away with my arse intact.’

Roger sighed. ‘Anything for
the cause of true love, and the lovely Charlotte.’

He took the hair, candles
and pieces of paper from the carrier bag and spread them on the desk. ‘What do
you make of them?’

 ‘Which phrases go with
which carving?’

He arranged the pieces of
paper, each next to its own carving.

‘They don’t seem to have
much relevance to each other.’ Roger picked up a slip of paper. ‘What does this
mean?’

‘I am holding the wolf by
the ears.’

‘And this?’

‘Who keeps silence
consents.
’

‘And peccavi?’

‘I have sinned.’

‘Haven’t we all.
The
truth
shall be uncovered, and I pray for those I love
.’ Roger’s brow creased.
‘Here, look…
of civilization and humanity, fear bought my silence and love…
 That’s
not a sentence anymore than
There
is no
atonement too great, eternal..
.’ He rearranged the phrases and shrugged.

‘They don’t make sense
whichever way you read them.’

Roger picked up a carving.
‘These shapes… they’re too precise, too perfect.’ He put it down and picked up
another. ‘And totally mismatched.’

‘There are five packages
altogether, apparently. Maybe there’s another carving, or
something,
wherever
this cross is located. The litany seems vaguely familiar.’

Roger tapped his keyboard
and a screen appeared. ‘Litanies… two hundred and six? Was the carver
Catholic?’

‘Charlotte said he wasn’t
religious. Try crosses… images. There look, Christian and heraldic.’

Roger hovered over the
image. ‘Rowan, pagan.’    He scrolled to a burning cross.
‘Flames are appropriate. Ah, Klu Klux Klan.’

‘I think we’re getting into
the realms of fantasy. Try religious sculpture.’

‘Plenty for sale…’ Roger
tapped in the first line of the litany. ‘Coventry cathedral… litany.’

He peered over Roger’s
shoulder. ‘
Following the bombing of the mediaeval cathedral in 1940, Provost
Dick Howard had the words ‘Father Forgive’ inscribed on the wall behind the
altar of the ruined building
.’

Roger clicked on images. An
arched window silhouetted its latticework against blue sky; sunlight fell on a
pink stone altar upon which stood a cross. Words were carved into the wall
behind.
Father Forgive
. ‘
The cross, made from burned roof timbers
…
the window, look. That’s it… It has to be.’

Adam pointed. ‘It would have
been a well-known Midlands landmark in the seventies. The new cathedral was
only consecrated in 1962, look.’ 

Roger clicked on a link.
‘The words are part of the Coventry Litany.’

‘And Coventry was blitzed…
burnt. Hence the flames. It’s worth investigating. I can’t wait to ring
Charlotte and tell her. Do you think this gives me an excuse to ask to see her
again?’

‘Definitely…’ Roger laughed.
‘How can she resist your devilish smile?’

‘Effie found it totally
resistible.’

‘Forget Effie.’

‘How can I? I’ve just seen
her and Gabrielle off at Heathrow. They’ve gone to Lyon.’

‘For good?’

‘Just the summer.’

‘School hasn’t broken up
yet, has it?’

‘You think Effie worries
about inconveniences like that? I may spend a weekend with them in a couple of
weeks. I get on well with Effie’s folks.’

‘So where does this leave
you and Charlotte?’

‘I really like her, Roger.’

‘Then go for it, Adam. You
have a professional interest in these carvings now.’

‘That’s true.’

‘Why not offer to go with her
to Coventry? Two heads are better than one… What have you got to lose?’

***

Adam picked up his phone. ‘Hi Charlotte, Adam
here…’ He tried again. ‘No: “Hello Charlotte, this is Adam Bancroft… Miss
Masters, Dr Bancroft calling.”.’ What he needed was one of Roger’s infamous
chat-up lines. He rang her number before he changed his mind and without a clue
what to say.

‘Yes, what?’

‘Oh God, I was hoping you’d
be in a good mood.’ Damn, he’d really blown it now.

‘This is me in a good mood.’

‘Am I safe this end of the
phone-line? I wouldn’t want to feel your claws again, Hellcat.’

‘Sorry, Adam. I didn’t mean
to snap.’

‘I rang to tell you the
cross your grandfather drew is at Coventry. The litany is that of the
Cathedral.’

‘Oh, thanks.’

So much for impressing her.
‘I thought you’d be excited. I thought we could go to Coventry.’

‘I am… Sorry, personal
stuff… and I’ve just banged my head on that beam. Character has its downside.’

A laugh escaped before he
could prevent it. ‘Sorry. Can I do anything to help?’

‘If you have time, a trip to
Coventry will take my mind off things for a day.’

It would take his mind off
Lyon, too. ‘We could go tomorrow? If I bring an air bed, can I sleep on your
floor, tonight? My legs dangle over the end of your sofa.’

‘If you’re sure you don’t
mind.’

‘I look forward to it,
Hellcat. I’ll be there this afternoon, about four.’

***

By the time the BMW roared along the lane,
Charlotte had been into Lyndhurst with the laundry, done the food shopping, and
been to the job centre: Robin’s therapy could take months and, even then, she
wasn’t sure it was the answer. A temporary job would eke out her savings until
she decided if she could go home; she couldn’t expect Roy to keep her job open
or pass up on the Peters’ account.

She applied fresh lipstick
and brushed out her hair as she considered her future. Robin was trying his
best. Shouldn’t she love him for who he was, not who she wished he could be?
She pushed him to the back of her mind: today wasn’t about Robin.

Adam strolled up the garden
path, his motorcycle helmet tucked under his arm. She hurried to the open door
and smiled in welcome. ‘Sorry I snapped. I’m glad you’ve come.’

‘I forgive you, Hellcat.’
Adam’s smile warmed his grey eyes. ‘It’s good to see you.’

‘I thought you were bringing
an air bed?’

‘My stuff’s on my bike.’

‘There’s not much room…’ She
was stating the obvious. ‘Put your things behind the sofa.’

Adam handed her a bottle of
red wine. ‘Peace offering.’

She smiled. ‘I’m not always
so spiky. Hard decisions…’ She dismissed the subject with a wave of her hand.
‘Shall we take it into the garden?’ She fetched two glasses and opened the back
door. The garden was redolent with honeysuckle, lavender and roses, the scents
heady with timeless promise. They sat at a table on a square of slabs next to
the lawn. Her shoulders unknotted. She was sharing a glass of wine with a
friend, nothing more. She leaned back in her chair. Adam opened the bottle and
poured her a glass. Her fingers brushed his hand as she reached for it and
something stirred inside her. She pulled her hand away: it was trembling. ‘I
thought you were supposed to let it breathe.’ Robin would.

His hand lingered briefly on
the glass and the corners of his eyes crinkled. ‘Oh, I think it had a quick
gasp.’

She put her hands in her lap
and forced a smile. ‘How did you find out about Coventry Cathedral?’

‘I went into work this
morning for an opinion. Roger and I searched the net.’

‘I thought you were on
holiday?’

‘I am, but this puzzle intrigues
me. Besides…’

She reached for her glass.
‘Besides what?’

‘I wanted to see you again.’

She lowered her eyes to
avoid the question his eyes asked. ‘I’m sorry, Adam.’