A Place of Secrets (40 page)

When they arrived at the big hospital near Great Yarmouth, they were taken to a small whitewashed office, where Summer was
sitting with a nurse, who was trying to entertain her with various brightly colored toys. She went at once to her mother and they hugged each other and Claire started crying all over again.

“I’m OK, Mummy, don’t fuss,” Summer said, and it was Claire who needed comforting.

* * *

Out in the corridor, a youngish man with wavy blond hair, and an elderly woman with gold-hoop earrings, sat waiting
patiently. Jude had been too anxious to give them a second glance on the way in, but now she recognized Liza, and the man, too, looked vaguely familiar. Claire, who was gripping Summer’s hand, seemed to know him, too, because she said, “You!” and her other hand flew to her cheek. Jude couldn’t quite place him. Was he another of the gypsies?

“Hello, Claire,” the man said softly. “It was me that
found her. Well, and Liza here, of course. Are you all right now, little one?”

Summer nodded and leaned into her mother’s side.

“It was you who saw her first, young man,” Liza said. “My eyes aren’t as sharp as they were.”

“Claire, this is Liza,” Jude said. “Do you remember I told you about taking Summer to meet her?”

“Liza, thank you. Thank you, both of you,” Claire whispered. Then she turned
and said, “Jude. You’ll remember Jon?” She looked anxiously at Jude, and Jude did remember. She turned to the man in wonder. “Yes, I met you one Christmas, I believe. We were, er, worried because you left without saying good-bye.” He’d looked different then, when he’d been going out with Claire, that time after their father’s death. Trying so hard to be cool he’d come across as plain rude.

“Yes,
well I’m sorry about that,” he mumbled. “I guess those days you didn’t see me at my best.”

“Snap,” Claire remarked drily.

He’d certainly changed for the better. He was wearing neatly pressed stone-white chinos and a crisp pale blue shirt. The hair, though still longish, was neatly styled and his blue eyes were lively, intelligent, but with a touch of seriousness. And as Jude saw him properly
she knew the truth immediately, and a great burden slipped away.

Claire seemed quite anxious in his presence, kept looking nervously at Summer.

“How was it you found…? Did you know…? I didn’t…,” she kept starting to say, and Jon broke in.

“Look, this is going to sound ridiculous, but I’ll try anyway. Your sister, Jude—well, I didn’t know her name was Gower. It didn’t mean anything to me when
I saw the letter.”

“What letter?” Claire asked, confused.

“The letter in the paper. About Tamsin Lovall.”

“Oh goodness,” said Jude, “that letter. I didn’t have a chance to see it had been printed.”

“What on earth are you both talking about?” asked Claire as though they were mad. Summer, tired, had started a little rocking game at her side, threatening Claire’s balance.

“I maybe forgot to
tell you. Liza here and her son recommended that I place a letter in the local paper asking if anyone knew any Lovalls and, in particular, Tamsin.”

“So what’s that got to do with Jon?” Claire asked. “Summer, do stop jiggling. I know you must be shattered. We’ll be going in a moment.”

“I was on my way to find Judith Gower,” said Jon simply. “You see, Tamsin Lovall was my grandmother.”

* *
*

“You’ve got to tell him, Claire,” Jude said, arms crossed, as she contemplated her sister. They were back in Blacksmith’s Cottage and had just seen Sergeant Bride and her boss off the premises after two wearying hours of discussion and filling in forms. The police, after hearing Summer’s own rambling account about gypsy girls and towers, had settled for the easier explanation that she had
suffered a nightmare, sleepwalked and got herself thoroughly lost. Euan, they were told, had been immediately released and the case more or less closed. Summer, meanwhile, bathed and fed by Jude while Claire was still talking, was soundly asleep upstairs.

“Tell him what?” Claire snapped.

“Well, the truth.”

“The truth being…”

“It’s obvious, isn’t it? You were right to tell me I was crazy thinking
it was Mark. It’s as Mum and I guessed at the time. Come on, Claire. Jon’s her father, isn’t he?”

Claire grunted and turned away.

After a moment, she said, “Yes. Yes, he is. And yes, I suppose I will have to tell him.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s guessed already. After all, they look similar, and he can do his maths, I’m sure.”

“Great,” said Claire gloomily. “Now he won’t leave us alone
at all.”

“Did you see the adoring way he looked at her, though?” Jude asked, unable to resist teasing. “Another conquest for Princess Summer.”

“Oh really, Jude.”

“She is very charming, your daughter.”

“She’ll be worse trouble than I was. So, I’ll tell him. And I’ll have to tell her. Then what?”

“I expect he’ll want to see her from time to time.”

“And interfere. Just what I was frightened
of.”

“Oh, come on, Claire, what’s so bad about him becoming involved? Summer will have a father. And what a lovely one at that. I hope you don’t mind me saying, but he seems to have grown up a bit since he last graced us with his presence.”

“Yeah.” Claire seemed lost in thought for a moment, then sighed and said, “I suppose so. OK, I’ll tell him. But Jude, please don’t say anything to anyone
else about it yet, to Gran or Mum. I have to tell Summer first and I want to do that in my own time. Maybe let her get to know Jon a bit first. It’s not going to be easy for any of us.”

“OK, it makes sense.”

* * *

Euan phoned Jude’s mobile half an hour later when Claire was upstairs. Jude took the phone out into the garden. “Is Summer all right?” were his first words.

“Yes, yes, amazingly
she is, thank God.” As he didn’t seem to have heard the details, she explained about an old friend of Claire’s finding the girl near the gypsy encampment.

“Are you back home? How are you?”

“I’m fine. They let me go pretty soon after she was found. Police car home, many apologies, sir, that sort of thing.”

“I can’t believe that they took you in the first place.”

“It’s routine, Jude, you mustn’t
worry about it.”

“Or that you’re being that nice about it.”

“Yes, well…,” he said. “Your sister was very stressed.” Both of them were thinking of Claire’s accusing words.

“I don’t believe she meant it. Not when she stopped to think.”

“I know,” he said, “but it hurt. Very deeply.”

“Euan, this might not be the time, but what happened between you? The night Summer disappeared, I mean. I came
into your living room and, well, you could have cut the atmosphere with a knife.”

“I think you’ll have to ask Claire about that. It wouldn’t be gallant of me…”

Jude sighed and closed her eyes. “I thought as much,” she said, but a guilty feeling of delicious relief welled up in her. Euan changed the subject.

“Where did Summer say she’d gone?”

“It’s still a bit of a mystery, Euan. She doesn’t
seem to remember. Someone was shut in the tower, is what she says, and she had to let them out. Then a girl looked after her in the forest and they played, and then she woke up near the gypsy caravans, and we know the rest. It sounds extraordinary, but—well, everything she said tied in with a dream I had the night she disappeared. Only I forgot about it in the morning, the dream I mean. It must
have been the shock or something. I’m so sorry, I’m rambling. Everything’s happening at once and it’s so … oh, confusing.”

Euan brought her down to earth by saying patiently, “So she thinks she was in the forest all that time? And she didn’t even hear us calling for her?”

“Apparently not. And you’d have thought she’d have hypothermia, but you should see her, she’s absolutely fine. She says this
girl put leaves over her—leaves, Euan. Like the folktale.”

“They sound like a couple of very lucky Babes in the Wood. Who was the girl, do you think?”

“I’ve no idea. Summer thinks she was a gypsy, but it certainly wasn’t Liza’s great-granddaughter.
She
was out with her mother all day yesterday and fast asleep in her parents’ caravan at night. Hang on a moment.”

Claire had stepped outside, clearly
wishing to speak to her.

“Is that Euan?” Claire whispered. “Could I talk to him when you’ve finished? If he can face it, I mean.”

“I’ll ask him,” Jude said, her face impassive, then she spoke into the handset: “Euan, will you have a word with Claire?”

There was a silence, then Euan said, “Yes, sure.” He added, “I’ll see you soon, then?”

“Of course,” replied Jude. “I’ll ring you.”

She passed
her phone to Claire, and went inside, not wanting to hear their conversation. She couldn’t help, though, watching her sister pace the garden, her expression agitated. Once she pressed her forearm to her face as though trying to stem tears. Another time she heard her cry, “No, you’ve got me all wrong.”

“Hi.” Jude spun around at the sound of a man’s voice. “Heck, who put that there?” Jon was rubbing
his head and frowning at the low doorway to the living room. “Sorry to make you jump, Jude. The front door was open but no one heard me knock.”

“Oh dear,” she said. “Are you all right? I’m glad you’ve come.”

“I wanted to find out how the little girl is,” he said.

“She’s absolutely fine,” Jude repeated, “not least thanks to you.”

“Asleep, I imagine,” he said, seeing her glance upstairs.

“Dead
to the world,” she replied, then immediately thought what an unfortunate expression that was in the circumstances. “Are you really a Lovall?”

“That was the other thing I wanted to see you both about. Yes, I am. Descended from one, anyway.”

At that moment, Claire finished her call and walked in slowly from the garden. She looked exhausted, Jude thought tenderly. Exhausted and sad.

“Oh,” Claire
said, seeing Jon rise to meet her. “You again. I’m sorry … I didn’t know you’d come.”

“Are you all right?” asked Jude, putting out her hand for her BlackBerry.

“Yes,” Claire replied, giving it to her, her voice steady. “I’ll tell you about it later.” She half fell onto the sofa and sat hunched up like a small, bruised waif, her legs tucked under her.

“More tea, I think,” said Jude firmly, and
she went off to make it, pushing the kitchen door to and deliberately clunking about, glad when the noise of the boiling kettle drowned the rise and fall of voices from the living room. Even so, when the kettle switched itself off she couldn’t help hearing his anguished cry: “You should have told me I had a child. I had a right to know.”

“Don’t you see?” Claire replied, her voice passionate.
“I had to protect her.”

“From me?” he cut in. “From
me
? Did you think I’d drop her or—or try to take her from you or something?”

“I didn’t
know
. I couldn’t predict how you would turn out. But I didn’t trust you then, Jon. I could hardly trust myself.”

Stuck in the kitchen, Jude didn’t know whether to pretend she wasn’t listening, or to blithely interrupt. The problem was solved for her by Claire,
who came in. “So I’ve told him,” she remarked, picking up two of the mugs.

Jon had gone out into the garden where he stood legs apart, arms folded, looking at the full-blown roses, their petals starting to fall.

Jude watched as Claire took out the tea, nudging his arm to get his attention with such a tender, natural gesture Jude wondered where it came from. Jon turned slightly and Jude was entranced
to observe the ease of the look that passed between them, though Jon still looked cross and Claire prickly. They’re like a long-married couple, she thought, which really was extraordinary considering that as far as she knew they hadn’t seen each other for seven or eight years. Jude and Mark had shared that feeling. They might not have met up for months or, like that time leading up to their
engagement when he was away on his travels, a whole year, but they had just picked up where they’d left off every time. Still, she hadn’t kept the secret of an unexpected baby from Mark. This might, she suppose, either draw Claire and Jon together, or drive them further apart. She wondered if it were too tidy to hope for the former. Jon did seem quite transformed from the casual young man she’d
met that Christmas Day nearly eight years ago.

She drank up her tea and decided she should go. Though desperate to hear about Tamsin Lovall and to tell Claire about her Esther dream, never mind to learn what had gone on between Claire and Euan, she was reluctant to play gooseberry to Claire and Jon.

This time it was Jon’s turn to rescue her, for when she went outside to say, “I probably ought
to get back,” he exclaimed, “but you haven’t told me yet. Why you were looking for my nan. That’s why I came, you see. That’s why I was driving down that road at that time and saw Summer. Heck, Claire’s told me I rescued my own daughter! And I was coming to find
you
.”

“Coming to … I still don’t entirely follow this. How can Tamsin be your grandmother?”

“Look,” Jon said, “I’ll start at the beginning.”
He leaned against the trampoline and told them the story.

“An old friend of our family showed my dad the letter you put in the paper on Friday about Tamsin Lovall. I didn’t know her name had been Lovall then, but this friend remembered her and said that it must be her, and I was amazed because I didn’t know she’d been a Romany. Dad had never told me. He said it was because she’d been secretive
about it and he respected that.”

“I take it she is dead then, Tamsin?” Jude said quietly.

“Yes, years ago, when I was five or six,” Jon said. “I don’t really remember her at all.”

“Oh, that’s so sad,” Jude cried. So all these years Gran had been worrying pointlessly. Tamsin, from whom she’d taken the necklace, had been dead; she must have died comparatively young. “When was that?” she asked.
“Sorry, I can’t work it out because I don’t know how old you are.”

“Same as you,” chipped in Claire. “He’s thirty-four, aren’t you, Jon? April the fifteenth, I remember. Aries. Fire sign, same as me.”