Postcards from the Past (27 page)

‘No, not all,’ answered Alec at once. ‘It is possible to detect that someone is telling the truth just as it is possible to know without doubt that someone is lying.’

‘But would you part with the money? Billa and Ed have always regarded me as an elder brother and, even at this late stage in all our lives, I might be able to influence them.’

‘What is your real anxiety?’

‘Tris says that he’s dying and that the money is for his nephew, Léon. I suppose you could say that, if we feel that the will stands, then we have no right to decide what Tris should do with his legacy, but part of me feels very strongly about ten thousand pounds disappearing into a drug dealer’s pocket. I’d like to know if there is someone called Léon living with his mother in the Rue Félix Pyat in Toulon.’

‘But you said that you believe in the existence of the boy?’

‘Yes, I do, and I’m wondering if Léon should get the money direct.’

Alec raised his brows, gave a little whistle. ‘Bypass Tris? Cut him out?’

‘He says he wants the money for Léon. That he’s dying and he has no use for it. So let’s put him to the test.’

‘How?’

‘Ah, well, that’s where you come in. Is it possible that you still have some connections who could make a few enquiries?’

‘Oh-o, I see how your mind is working. Check the boy out and if he’s this hard-working fellow who looks after his mother then you can tell Tris that you’ll pass the money straight to him?’

‘That’s the idea. And if Tris balks, then we can all think again. The will won’t stand up in a court of law. Clearly Andrew persuaded Elinor to use his own lawyer rather than the family firm, which is why Billa and Ed didn’t know about it. It all happened so long ago and it could be proved, I imagine, that Andrew was an adventurer. I’d also want to be very sure when Andrew died. We only have Tris’s word that it was after Elinor’s death. I feel that one should respect the wishes of the dead but Elinor might have changed that will once she knew Andrew was never coming back, and if she hadn’t begun to suffer from those bouts of terrible depression. Perhaps she thought that ten thousand pounds was neither here nor there; perhaps she just forgot about it. The point is that I think we might consider coughing up if there’s a worthy cause on the end of it. Then honour will be satisfied.’

‘That sounds very fair,’ said Alec, ‘and very generous. I can still pull strings. Give me twenty-four hours.’

Dom walks on, wondering what Sir Alec’s sources will discover. The sun rises behind the trees, casting sharp black shadows like bars across the path. With a flash of blue, a jay dashes between the bare branches above Dom’s head and his raucous cry is mocking, derisory. Dom watches him, feeling a sudden sense of disquiet, wondering if there is something he’s missed and whether he should warn Billa and Ed about the will. He’d rather tell them face to face and he wants, now, to wait for Sir Alec so as to have all the facts. Twenty-four hours, he’d said. Nothing could happen in twenty-four hours. Clearly Tris kept his word and hasn’t mentioned the will to Billa and Ed but Dom still feels uneasy. Perhaps, after all, it was foolish to take time to think about it. He’ll phone Billa and suggest he goes in for a drink this evening. By then he might have heard something from Sir Alec. Bessie comes wagging up to him, pleased with herself, wanting her breakfast, and they go on together.

*   *   *

Ed finishes his breakfast and pushes his plate aside. He knows that Billa wants to talk about Tris, to go over yesterday’s visit again, but he simply can’t concentrate. His mind is full of images, of scenes that flash upon his mind’s eye, of the legends of the Cornish Knockers deep in the tin mines, and the giant that wades out into the mountainous seas to grab passing sailing ships and tow helpless sailors to their deaths. He sees the boy and the white horse, the princeling with his flashing sword, and another boy, smaller and more vulnerable, who travels with three large dogs that protect him. The story is beginning to weave and flow in his mind and from time to time he makes lightning sketches on the pad beside him on the table.

‘Dom suggests we invite Tris to coffee tomorrow,’ Billa says to him. ‘He promises he’ll come, too. I think that’s a good idea, don’t you? All of us together. But Dom says he’d like to pop round this evening for a drink. I’ve said that’s fine. I’ll be back from Wadebridge about six.’

Ed nods obligingly. He’ll agree with anything as long as he can get up to his study and do some work. Billa recognizes the signs and shrugs resignedly. Ed sees the shrug and is seized with guilt.

‘That’ll be good,’ he says. ‘To see Dom, I mean. And Tris. It’s good that we all have some kind of closure.’

Billa nods. ‘I keep feeling a bit guilty. We weren’t terribly nice to Mother, were we? We made no allowances for her being lonely after Daddy died.’

‘We weren’t old enough to understand that,’ points out Ed reasonably. ‘We couldn’t imagine that she’d need a substitute. We thought she should be content with us. After all, it never occurred to us to need another father.’

‘The point was that we had Dom,’ Billa says. ‘He came just when we needed him. She had nobody. I was pretty beastly to her over Andrew.’

Ed watches her. Tris’s arrival has changed her, softened her, and he is faintly worried by it.

‘We were children,’ he says consolingly. ‘Children are naturally selfish. There were lots of reasons for the way we behaved. It’s no good looking at past mistakes in isolation. We have to remember the whole context or we get a completely biased view of it. Don’t beat yourself up.’

She smiles at him gratefully. ‘I won’t,’ she says. ‘I just wish I’d been a bit nicer to her before she died. That awful depression did for her. Sitting about in her dressing gown and those terrible bouts of weeping. I really believe that she thought Andrew had left her for another woman, you know. She really loved him but I think it was in a very physical way that drove her mad.’

Ed doesn’t quite know how to react to this; it’s not really his kind of conversation.

‘Mmm,’ he says non-committally. ‘You could be right.’

Billa gets up from the table. ‘Go and do some work,’ she says. ‘I’ll phone Tris about tomorrow and I’ll bring you up some coffee later on. Don’t forget we’re having an early lunch.’

‘OK,’ he says, relieved. ‘Great.’

He gathers up his papers, hurries away upstairs into his study and closes the door behind him. He stands still for a moment and the room seems to gather and settle round him, welcoming him. Ed takes a deep, happy breath and sits down at his desk.

*   *   *

‘I think we’ve got everyone in the diary now,’ Sarah says. ‘Are you sure you’re going to manage with the few that need more time?’

‘Quite sure,’ says Tilly confidently. ‘They’re going to be very flexible up at Chi-Meur and because I’m living in I can always work early or late. I’m doing extra at the pub for these next few days and then that’s that. Don’t worry, I shan’t let anyone disappear through the net. Sir Alec will need quite a bit more time. I’m going on to spend an hour with him when we’ve finished here.’

George begins to grizzle and Tilly whisks him out of his chair and begins to dance with him, blowing raspberries into his neck until he starts to giggle. She can see that Sarah is wanting to make some retort about spoiling him, but just managing to restrain herself, and Tilly feels a great surge of affection for her. She’s having these moments quite a lot lately, with Dom, with Billa and Ed, with Sir Alec. She is so happy she is almost effervescing with it, but she knows that Sarah will be slightly embarrassed by such an overflowing of joy so she resists the urge to give Sarah a hug and contents herself with kissing George’s smooth, satiny cheek.

‘So when are you moving in?’ Sarah is asking, still checking the database and making notes.

‘Monday week. I shall have got through lots of our work by then and I’ll have finished at the pub. You must come up and see the Priest’s Flat. There’s a huge bank of lilac trees growing just under the windows. Sister Emily says the scent is paradisical when they flower.’

‘“Paradisical”,’ Sarah snorts. ‘Very nun-like. And you won’t keep calling it the Priest’s Flat, will you? People will think it’s a bit weird.’

Tilly shrugs. ‘I can’t help that. Everyone calls it that. I can’t just move in and change it; it’s not my flat. Anyway, I rather like it.’

‘You’ll be taking Holy Orders next,’ says Sarah waspishly. ‘How will your street cred do when you tell your friends you’re going to be living in a convent?’

‘Actually, they think it’s rather cool, and Mum and Dad are pleased now they’re over the shock of it. They think I’ll be really safe now. Even better than Mr Potts’ bedroom.’

Tilly sits down with George on her lap. She is sad that Sarah is going, she’s going to miss her, but she wishes that Sarah was more upbeat about her own move.

‘Let’s see those house details again,’ Tilly says. ‘It looks really nice. I bet you can’t wait for Dave to come home and get going. After all, this was
your
home, wasn’t it? Your family home. It’s going to be really great moving into this house with Dave and the boys.’

Sarah gets up from the computer and fetches the house details’ folder. She sits down again with it between them. Tilly shifts George to one side, and together they begin to reread the spec.

*   *   *

It’s quite a relief, a bit later, for Tilly to leave Sarah’s cottage and drive down to Sir Alec’s house. He greets her warmly but she sees that he is limping and he looks rather drawn and tired.

‘Couldn’t get out this morning,’ he admits. ‘Would be the right ankle, wouldn’t it? Driving’s tricky and I couldn’t face the long haul down to the beach. Poor Hercules is housebound.’

‘I’ll take him out,’ Tilly says at once. ‘I’d love it. I’ll give him a walk when we’ve finished the session,’ and an hour later she and Hercules set off together down the hill towards the beach. Half-way down she hears an engine behind her, the approach of a big vehicle, and turning she sees the school bus coming. She hauls Hercules well into the side until it’s passed and then sees an excited face at the back window, a hand fluttering. It’s Jakey. When she and Hercules reach the vicarage he’s waiting for them, his school bag dumped by the front door.

‘Shall I come with you?’ he asks. ‘Are you going down to the beach?’

‘Yes,’ she says. ‘Poor Sir Alec has twisted his ankle. But you need to ask if you’re allowed to come. Is Dossie waiting for you? Or Daddy?’

‘It’s Daddy,’ he answers, running to the front door and opening it with a shout of greeting.

Tilly’s heart does a little hop, and when Clem appears at the door she gives what she hopes is a nonchalant wave. Jakey is explaining the situation, words tripping and tumbling in his eagerness, and Clem says, ‘Hang on a minute,’ disappears and then comes back out, dragging on a jacket and putting keys in his jeans pocket. He’s wearing his clerical collar but he pulls the jacket collar up so it’s not too obvious, and anyway Tilly doesn’t mind. She quite likes the way he’s prepared to stand up and be counted.

‘Not too long,’ he cautions Jakey, and he smiles at Tilly and they all go together down the village street and out on to the beach.

It’s very wild and windy. Their words are snatched from their mouths and tossed about like the gulls in the great cloudy spaces above them.

‘Dossie’s been on the phone,’ Clem says, as they stroll behind Jakey and Hercules. ‘She’s got this friend who breeds black Labs. Because of the economic pinch they’re planning to find a home for their oldest breeding bitch. She’s about five, very gentle and sweet, and Dossie thinks that if we’re going to have a dog she might be a good choice.’

Tilly’s heart glows at his words, ‘if we’re going to have a dog’. There’s something satisfyingly permanent about them.

‘Sounds good to me,’ she says. ‘I’d love to see her.’

‘That’s what Dossie thought. She says that she could take you over to meet them before we mention anything to Jakey.’

She nods. ‘Great. Shall you phone Dossie? Or shall you give me her number?’

‘Both,’ Clem says decisively.

Jakey is scaring the seagulls wading at the water’s edge. He runs, just dodging the in-sweep of the tide, his arms out-stretched like aeroplane wings, and Hercules runs with him, barking.

Tilly and Clem laugh.

‘It’s going to be good,’ Clem says suddenly, confidently, and Tilly, overwhelmed with happiness, can’t resist slipping a hand inside his elbow. He presses it against his side and they stride out together, heads bent against the wind.

*   *   *

Tris drives cautiously along the lanes between the Chough and the old butter factory, keeping a wary eye open for Dom or Billa. He’s taking a risk, a huge risk, but every instinct is telling him to make his move. When she invited him for coffee for the following morning Billa told him that she would be out this afternoon and he guesses that Dom, in that case, won’t be visiting. He and Ed might be working down in the woods but that will suit his purpose just as well. Anyway, Tris has his story well prepared in case he is taken by surprise. He is fizzing with an adrenalin rush, with energy and excitement. He can barely breathe.

He drives in over the bridge, picks up his satchel and gets out, closing the car door as quietly as he can. Billa’s car is gone and there is no sign of Ed. Gently, gently, Tris presses down the handle on the kitchen door and walks in. Bear is nowhere to be seen and Tris advances silently across the kitchen towards the open door into the hall. He can see Bear now, stretched on the slates by the front door, and Tris reaches into his pocket for the treats he has brought specially for this eventuality. As Bear raises his head, Tris bends to put the tasty snack beside him. Bear hesitates, still recumbent, growls half-heartedly, and then begins to sniff. He hauls himself up a little and begins to eat the first treat.

Quickly, quickly, Tris runs up the stairs and pauses outside the study door. He listens for a moment, waits for a heartbeat and then opens the door. Sitting at his desk, his laptop open in front of him, Ed gazes at him in astonishment. Cursing to himself, Tris closes the door behind him and advances into the room, his hands upraised in apology.