The Lives She Left Behind (42 page)

‘And then they killed you.’ Her face was stricken.

‘Gally, listen,’ said Ferney. ‘That was long ago. You turned your mourning into words. You told Guy there is a life force and we’re all part of it and when we damage that
we damage our chance of getting anywhere worth being. You said every army thinks it has God on its side and he winced at that.’

‘Taking life,’ she said. ‘Rosie. I took Rosie’s life.’

‘That was different. It doesn’t count when it’s us. I’m back. You’re back. You did nothing wrong.’

‘I did.’ She looked at Mike, pointed at him. ‘I hurt him.’

‘Yes,’ said Mike, ‘but I’m trying to understand.’

The girl’s face changed, eased a little. She got to her feet, gazed up at the old tower above them and held out her hands, turning to face each of them one after the other as if to bless
them with quietness. ‘Old men, who stay behind,’ she said.

‘Hold on a minute,’ said Lucy. She reached into her pocket, unfolded a piece of paper and thrust it at Fleur. ‘I bought this yesterday when we stopped at the shop,’ she
said, ‘and I haven’t shown it to her, I promise.’

‘Old men who stay behind,’ said Gally again, and her voice took on a rich depth that was entirely unfamiliar to them, ‘do not inflame the young with words of war. The ruin that
you risk should be your own, not theirs. Young men take care. To make you fight they first must make you fear, then out of that shape hate.’ She paused, wiped a tear away. Fleur was staring
down at the printed sheet.

Gally began again. ‘Take arms when all else fails, but mark you this: before the battle starts remember what it is to see friends bleed. In the battle’s midst, remember peace is both
behind you and ahead. When the battle’s done, remember how it is that wars begin.’ She turned back towards the tower and her voice rose. ‘Kings and captains, you who order war,
know that your people, left alone, would choose to eat not fight, would choose to love not hate, would chose to sleep not die. Be careful what you say to turn them to your will. Tell them that you
fight for God not gain, and know your enemy has preached the same. You who read this, pray for me. I have heard blind fury roar and sow the seeds of future war and I have wept as heroes
died.’

Fleur was looking down at the sheet of paper, then back at her. ‘So when
did
you learn that?’ she asked.

‘When we wrote it, the two of us.’ She drew in a long breath and looked hard at Ferney. ‘I’m back,’ she said. ‘I think I’m all right.’

Fleur read the description on the piece of paper, shaking her head. ‘This is just a trick,’ she said. ‘It’s no proof of anything. You’re all in this together.
I’m not buying this.’

‘You want proof?’ asked Ferney. ‘I can give you proof.’

‘Oh really? This I have to hear,’ said Fleur.

‘Before this week, when were you last in Pen?’

‘He means Pen Selwood,’ Mike put in.

‘Never,’ said Fleur. ‘Not once. So how does your proof look now?’

‘What about close by? Driving down on the main road?’

‘Sometimes. Me and ten million others.’

‘The tower,’ Gally said so quietly that they almost missed it.

‘The tower? This tower? How does that help?’ Ferney said.

She shook her head, ‘Alfred’s Tower.’

‘What about it?’ He turned back to Fleur. ‘Have you been there?’

‘We went there after we left the village,’ said Fleur.

‘Not before?’

‘Once. We climbed right up to the top.’

‘Wait,’ said Ferney. ‘You’d never been to Pen before?’

‘No.’

‘But you had been to the tower? Just the once?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then I can prove it. If I can tell you the exact date you went to the tower, will you start believing me?’

‘You could tell me any date you like. How would I know if you were right? I know the year and the month but I have no idea which day it was. I can’t remember things like
that.’

‘Your diary,’ said Gally.

Ferney looked at her and back at Fleur. ‘Have you got your old diaries?’

Fleur didn’t answer. She had turned her head away. There was a long silence.

‘Who was with you?’ Ferney asked. ‘You said “we”?’

Fleur’s shoulders shook. She got to her feet and walked away, down the narrow entrance towards the road, leaving her car keys on the table.

Ferney turned to Gally. ‘What happened there?’ he asked.

Gally was frowning, ‘She was with . . . with my father.’

‘What happened to your father?’ Mike asked.

‘He . . . he died when I was born.’

‘How?’

‘I don’t know. She never talked about him.’

‘Never?’

‘No. Never.’

‘What was his name?’

Gally frowned again as if she might not know even that.

‘Toby,’ she said in the end. ‘I think it was Toby.’

‘Right,’ said Mike. ‘You stay here, all of you. I’m going to talk to her.’

He found her in the graveyard, standing looking at the gravestones. He stood outside for a while and she didn’t move so he walked in.

She turned sharply when she heard his footsteps and he saw she was crying.

‘I don’t want to intrude,’ he said.

‘Go away then.’

‘I think I know how this feels for you,’ he said. ‘In fact I’m probably the only other person who does.’

‘I don’t know anything about you that makes me want to listen,’ she said.

‘I’m just me and I’m harmless and I’ve lost Gally too, twice really. I know you lost someone.’

‘What do you mean, twice?’

‘Once when she killed herself and once when she came back.’

‘And you really believe all that stuff?’

‘Not by choice. Yes, I have to. I’ve lived it.’ He waited. ‘What was he like?’ he asked gently in the end.

‘Who?’

‘Toby.’

‘She told you his name? What else did she say?’

‘Only that you never talk about him.’

She looked away again.

‘How did he die?’ he asked.

‘In a crash,’ she said. ‘It’s none of your business.’

‘How old was Jo?’

‘She was . . . she was just being born. We were in the hospital. He went back to get something that I . . .’ she faltered.

Then somehow he understood. ‘You think he died because of you,’ he said, and she swung round, erupting in fury, punching him on the chest and the arms, screaming at him,
‘It’s got nothing to do with you. Shut up, just shut up!’

He did nothing to stop her but she stopped herself, put her hands to her face and began to cry with the force of a sixteen-year-old dam breaking. He stood and watched her, then opened his arms
and she crept into their comfort, sobbing and sobbing and sobbing.

At the end, when she quietened enough, they sat down next to each other on a grave slab.

‘You didn’t kill him,’ he said. ‘Accidents happen. So, what was he like?’

‘He would have believed this. He was a softie really. He would have been just what she needed.’

‘You can still be what she needs now.’

‘Can I really?’ Fleur said. ‘I never have been. Anyway, is that Jo, that girl? Is there anything much of Jo left, I wonder?’

‘I think there’s probably most of her left,’ Mike replied. ‘When I first met my Gally, before we ever came to the village, before she ever remembered anything about their
past, she was pretty much the same person as she was later.’

Fleur shook her head. ‘This isn’t the Jo I know.’

‘If you can trust in this and bring her back to the village, you’ll see Jo again. You’ll see quite a special version of her. Tell her all about Toby. She will understand, you
know. She’s got so much wisdom.’

‘This is impossible,’ Fleur said. ‘Look at all these dead people.’ She swept a hand round the wide graveyard. ‘Do they stay dead, or have I got to change the whole
way I think about the world?’

‘I think they’re all safely dead.’

‘I don’t get you. I mean, as I understand it, my daughter married you then turned out to have been in love with somebody else for ever and a day, then, if I understand this right,
she did away with herself and your daughter at the same time. How can you stand that?’

‘Sometimes I can’t.’

‘Don’t you hate them?’

‘I pity them. It never ends for them. All they’ve got to make it bearable is each other.’

‘All right,’ she said. ‘I’m going to try going along with this but I need the proof.’

‘Then let’s go and look for it. Will the diary thing help?’

‘It might, and you had better do what I say because I’ve just realised I’m your mother-in-law,’ she said and made a noise that was almost a laugh.

Back at the Exeter flat, Fleur delved in a cupboard and brought out a green desk diary. She held it in both hands, hiding the year marking on the cover, and stared at
Ferney.

‘What exactly am I looking for?’ she said.

‘All right,’ said Ferney. ‘Did you stay the night somewhere local?’

‘Yes. A nice hotel, more of an inn really, just by Stourhead.’

‘The Spread Eagle at Stourton?’

‘That was it.’

‘Was that the night before you climbed up the tower or the night after?’

‘The night before, then we went up the tower in the morning.’

‘All right. I’ll tell you the exact date you stayed at the Spread Eagle. Is that a deal?’

‘Wait. I’ll see if I can find it.’ She opened the diary, leafed through, stopped sharply and sighed. ‘I’ve got it.’ There was a catch in her voice.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘It’s just . . . it’s his writing, you see.’ They waited for her to recover. ‘Well, anyway, here it is. “Booked one
night Spread Eagle, Stourton, sent deposit cheque.” Right then, smart boy. It’s all or nothing. Tell me what I’m looking at.’

‘You must have stayed at the Spread Eagle on the night of January 30th, 1994 . . .’ Ferney paused as Fleur made a small noise . . . ‘and then you must have gone up the tower on
the morning of January 31st.’

‘How could you know that?’

‘The simplest way you can imagine. Because my Gally died early in the morning of January 31st.’

‘Gally and her little girl?’

‘Yes. It’s right, isn’t it?’

‘Oh God.’ She closed her eyes, opened them again. ‘Yes, it is. Then Jo was born in May. The 26th.’

‘And I was born on June the eighth,’ said Ferney.

‘Why does that matter?’

‘Because Gally and her little girl died together. I was Gally’s little girl. I was Rosie.’

Fleur gave him a shocked look and fell silent, thinking. ‘I had a bit of a turn when I was up the tower,’ she said eventually. ‘Was that it, do you think?’

Ferney simply looked straight back at her and she gave a shrug of silent resignation. ‘What now?’ she asked.

Gally was clinging to Ferney, listening but saying nothing. ‘If she stays here she’ll go quiet again,’ Ferney replied. ‘I can promise you that. We have to get her to Pen.
She needs to be there and we need her there.’

‘All right,’ said Fleur, ‘but I’m coming too.’

On the way there, Ferney held Gally in the back seat of Fleur’s car with Ali in the front while Lucy, increasingly proud of what she had done, travelled with Mike and Rachel.
‘She’s not so bad,’ said Mike after a very long silence.

‘Who?’ said Rachel.

‘The mother, Fleur.’

‘She’s a cow,’ said Lucy indignantly. ‘She’s never shown much care for Jo – for Gally, I mean.’

‘I thought she came round to it quite well,’ said Mike. ‘It’s not easy, you know. After all, she’s been on her own dealing with it.’

‘She’s hard,’ said Lucy and Rachel said nothing.

The traffic was bad and it was only when they turned off the A303 towards the village that Mike realised he had forgotten all about the probability of his imminent arrest.

‘Be ready. They might be waiting for us,’ Rachel said nervously as they turned off the main road. ‘We’re late.’

She drove into the yard. There was no sign of Meehan or his men but as she stopped the car, her phone rang.

‘That’s him,’ she said. ‘What am I going to say?’

The policeman gave her no chance to say anything. They could hear the metal rattle of his voice though she pressed the phone hard to her ear. ‘We got held up . . .’ she said quickly.
‘Oh, right. What about tomorrow morning? Tonight? An hour? No, I don’t . . . ninety minutes. Yes, yes. We will. No, you don’t need to do that.’ She switched it off and hung
her head then looked up at Mike. ‘We have to be there in an hour and a half. If not, he’s coming to get you. I’m sorry.’

‘Well, I suppose that’s that, then.’

They got out of the cars. Gally seemed to come fully alive as her feet touched the ground. She sniffed the air like a dog.

‘Let’s go inside,’ Rachel said. ‘Gally? Will you come and talk to us? There’s very little time. We need to know how you made your mixture.’

The girl took no notice. She walked slowly across the yard to the old stone poking up through what was left of the brambles. She knelt down on one knee in front of it, spreading her hands out on
the ground, palms down, like a runner taking up her position for a race. Rubbing her hands on the ground as if making proper contact with the earth, she gazed at the stone through the foliage.

‘This is where we died,’ she said. ‘The first time. They killed us here, by this stone.’

Fleur frowned, took a pace towards her. ‘Jo,’ she said, ‘we didn’t come back here for this.’

‘That’s not her name,’ said Ferney. He put a finger to his lips. ‘Just listen a moment,’ he said. ‘She’ll get to it her way.’

Gally stood up, reached a hand out to him and turned to face them, her back to the stone.

‘When we met, we were terrified and terror was with us all that short time, all through that night. To lessen it we began to love each other, and there was nothing but those two passions
from the moment we met until the moment we died. They killed us here, pinned us hard against each other with a spear, killed us in love and in terror. We were enemies, then we were lovers, then we
were dead, all in the snap of a finger. We died right here against this stone.’

They stood in a wide ring as if anxious not to crowd her.

‘That’s why I was born here the second time,’ she said.

‘The second life?’ Ferney spoke with sharp surprise in his voice. ‘You
remember
the second life?’