‘Josh? Are you all right?’
I blinked, and saw Mary register the empty glass at my elbow, the half-empty bottle beside it, and the folder on my knee.
‘What is the matter, dear? Are you upset?’
‘Oh … no. It’s all right.’ I took a deep breath and closed the folder.
She looked closely at me, then slowly sat down in the armchair on the other side of the fireplace. ‘What’s happened?’
Mary’s sister, my mother, died when I was ten, and I think there is perhaps some residual confusion in my mind between the two of them. From photographs it’s apparent that they did look very alike, although not twins-Mary was the elder by fourteen months-and I transferred some of my feelings for my mother onto my aunt. More death-denial, I suppose. At any rate, this transference was not entirely one-sided, and on occasions such as this Mary was quite capable of assuming a maternal role.
‘Come on, tell me.’
So I sighed and told her about Anna’s visit, and about Curtis and Owen’s deaths.
‘Those two climbers in New Zealand? Oh, Josh, I read about them, but I didn’t make the connection. I met them, didn’t I? They came here once.’
I nodded.
‘Oh, you poor thing. No wonder you’re upset. That’s shocking, especially after …’ Her eyes dropped to the folder on my knee, and a small interrogative furrow formed on her brow.
‘It’s sort of more complicated than that,’ I said, and told her the rest, about Anna’s story of Owen’s confession and her file on Luce’s accident.
I handed it to her and she turned the pages, pondering on it in silence, then said, ‘You knew them, Josh, but it’s very hard to believe.’
‘Exactly. I knew them all well, really well, and I just can’t believe it. I told her so. Owen was badly hurt-he must have been incredibly confused.’
‘But …’ she gazed at me, sympathetic but probing, ‘Anna thinks there’s something in it?’
‘Maybe. Yes.’
‘What does she propose to do?’
‘She doesn’t really know. She asked me to read that file, and think about it, and then talk it over.’
‘I always liked Anna. The quiet plain one, but very loyal, I always felt, to Luce especially. Sensible, I imagine?’
‘She had her moments, but yes, today I’d say … sensible.’ What I was thinking was that Anna had seemed almost weighed down now by being sensible, the old flights of fancy firmly in check.
‘Yes. I remember wanting to slip a bottle of shampoo into her bag that day they came here. But when I met her a few weeks ago she was very smartly turned out. Quite the young business-woman. And this file … it’s brought it all back, about Lucy?’
‘Yes.’ It was the drink, I suppose, but I felt a desperate need surge up to talk about this, to confess. ‘I … I don’t think I ever really faced up to the reality of it at the time, you see. I went to London that August, remember, the month before they left for the island? Then, when the accident happened, Anna tried to let me know through Dad, who sent me a letter, only he used my first address in London and I’d already moved on. So it was actually early November when I heard, and by then it was all over. I was very shocked, of course. I felt helpless, but also … Well, it just seemed so unreal. I mean, people don’t tend to plunge a hundred metres into shark-infested waters in London. It seemed preposterous, somehow. I couldn’t really talk it over with anyone, talk through how I felt. So I just smothered it up, tried not to feel anything at all.’
This was getting sticky, and I warned myself to shut up.
‘Lucy was very special,’ Mary said, and the warmth in her voice, and the use of her proper name, felt like an unconscious rebuke, as if to say that my appreciation of her had been rather inadequate. Well it had, and I felt the tears climbing up the back of my throat again. I coughed, and tried to pull myself together. ‘The service was very moving,’ she went on. ‘So many people.’
‘Where was it?’ I realised I had no idea.
‘In Orange, where she came from. The family seemed to be highly regarded. Well, the country, you know, they stick together at times like that.’
‘I remember you told me you went.’
‘Yes. It was a good trip. I stayed overnight. I thought I should, well, represent us.’
Me, she meant, and I began to suspect that she had understood more about me and Luce, and about what I should have felt and should have done, than I had realised.
‘What do you think I should do now?’ I asked her.
‘Is there anyone else you can talk to?’
The obvious people were Damien and Marcus, of course, the remaining members of the group, but I wasn’t sure how they’d react to revisiting what must have been a very painful experience. ‘Not really.’
‘I think you need time to come to terms with this, Josh.’
‘Yes.’ What I really wanted, I suspected, was for Anna to just go away and leave me alone. ‘Curtis and Owen’s funerals are on Tuesday. I’ll be seeing Anna again then.’
‘It must have been very hard for her, dealing with this on her own. I’m sure it will reassure her to be able to talk it through with you. And maybe vice versa, eh?’
She patted my knee and I nodded. Mary’s sympathy was consoling, but part of me resented it. For four years I’d made my own way in the world, about as far from home as you could get. One thing I felt I didn’t need was mothering.
‘Fair enough,’ I said gruffly, and got to my feet, correcting for a slight unsteadiness.
In the hall we encountered the judge and Socrates again.
‘Ah, Mary. How was bridge?’
‘A bit strained tonight, Rory, I’m afraid. My usual partner didn’t turn up and I had to play with someone who had some rather odd ideas about bidding.’
‘Oh dear.’ He regarded me suspiciously, frowning at the empty glass in my hand, and it occurred to me that perhaps the judge didn’t like me. Maybe I was in the way.
‘I’ll make your warm milk, Rory,’ Mary said, and he beamed. I thought of the murderer in his cell at that moment, awaiting the fate that Rory would perhaps finalise over his warm milk, and felt a little chill. ‘Why on earth are you only wearing one slipper?’ Mary added.
‘Ah yes.’ The judge gazed at his feet in some bemusement. ‘I seem to have mislaid the other one. I rather thought I might check Socrates’ basket.’
‘Good idea. Come along.’
I found it hard to get to sleep that night. My mind put images to the bald descriptions in the newspaper cuttings: the cliffs of Mount Gower, the rocky shelf, the projecting outcrop behind which Luce had disappeared, the scramble when they heard her cry out … And Owen’s words, It didn’t happen that way.
Finally I wept a little, for Luce. It wasn’t like a dam breaking. More like something frozen beginning to melt.
3
There was a big crowd gathered in the forecourt of the church when I drove past, and I had to go on several blocks before I could find a parking space. I didn’t recognise anyone as I joined the queue at the foot of the church steps to sign the attendance book. Then, turning away, I found myself facing Damien. He seemed larger, more forceful, as he gripped my hand and pulled me into a bear hug, slapping my back.
‘Fantastic to see you, Josh. I didn’t know you were back. Isn’t this just sickening? What did they think they were doing? Crazy bastards. God, I’ll miss them.’
He was larger, by half a dozen kilos at least, and smoother somehow. When we were students he’d had a beard and had seemed quite rugged, but the beard had gone now and the look was much sleeker. But the change was to do with his personality, too, or his projection of it. He’d always stepped in when our group needed a bit of leadership, but now I had the impression that he didn’t wait to take charge.
Something over my shoulder caught his attention and he said, ‘I’m going to have to shoot off straight after this, but we must catch up.’ He slipped a business card out of his top pocket. ‘Here.’