Freeing Grace (20 page)

Only now did the obvious thought strike me. ‘He knows you’re Deborah Harrison, right?’

‘Of course. Another me, in another life. The only lie I’ve ever told him was about my father being ill. But to him I’m Susie Bridges, and always will be.’

I whistled. ‘He told me he’d never heard of you, never clapped eyes on the person in the photo. Wrong woman, sod off. He generously promised to look out for a rogue English bluestocking. I only came back because I wanted a swim.’

‘Well. No offence, but I wish you hadn’t.’

Rod’s battered pick-up was parked under the trees as we walked up. His dog, Cheza, came galloping across as we approached, prancing merrily around Deborah with a big open mouth, making welcoming sounds and swishing his tail. I bent down to pat him. As I straightened up, Rod appeared in the doorway of the office, also looking for her, smiling cheerfully. Poor bastard. He stood very still when he saw me, as though I was pointing a gun at his head.

‘You found her then?’ he said quietly.

I put up my hands in a feeble gesture of apology. I’d never in my life done anything that affected other people. Not really. Just drifted along, trying not to do any damage, avoiding anything that mattered. My aim, I suppose, was to be irrelevant. And now I’d made a difference in the lives of Deborah and Rod, and I wasn’t enjoying it at all. It was like being the Grim Reaper.

She walked straight up to him and put her arms around his neck, and I pushed off, feeling like a total prick.

Mission accomplished.

I didn’t see Deborah or Rod again until that evening, while I was buying one last round for myself and my brand-new lifelong mates.

I’d spent the rest of the afternoon on and off a kayak, snorkel-ling along the reef. By the time the sun went down I’d made myself at home in the bar, facing out to sea and yarning with two Irish guys who’d pulled in that afternoon. They were on their way down the east coast in an incredibly old Land Rover that really belonged in a museum. They’d driven this dinosaur all the way from London and were going on down to Cape Town, but they needed some time out. One of them was getting over a bout of malaria, and they both had seriously dodgy stomachs—walked around bent over like old geezers. They planned to stop here for a couple of weeks, rest up a bit and replace the Land Rover’s gearbox. After a bottle of Tusker, I offered to give them a hand. After another four, they asked if I’d like to come along with them, down to South Africa, and I said thanks, great idea, I’ll seriously think about it.

That was what was on my mind as I went to buy the last round. Hamisi was pottering about behind the bar, calmly cashing up. Hamisi, with his grizzled hair, who’d buried three of his children. It was hard to fathom the scale of it, really.

‘Where are Rod and Susie tonight?’ I asked. ‘Haven’t seen them for a while.’

He seemed to consider me. Then he pointed with his chin towards the southern end of the beach. ‘See the fire?’

I walked to the edge of the wooden floor and stepped down into the darkness. It wasn’t really dark, though, because the sky was an explosion of stars. You could almost hear them crackling. The ocean looked as still and black as treacle, and the waves had luminous silver fringes in the starlight. The landscape was frozen, like a painting; like one of those bad-taste velvet pictures everybody had in the nineteen seventies.

Far away down the shore, near the rocks, was a small fire. I could just make out two shadowy figures, standing side by side in its glow. I heard a footstep behind me, and Hamisi was there, at my elbow. For some time we stood in silence, watching the distant flames.

‘I think they have a lot to discuss,’ he said, finally. Then he cast me a reproachful glance before turning and wandering wearily back into the dim light.

I looked back at the fire on the beach. The two figures had merged into one. Perhaps Rod had talked her out of it. But I doubted it.

The plane was waiting, floating on a shimmering lake of mirage, its steps already wheeled into position. There was going to be no miracle. It was going to take her away from here, just like last time.

We hung around awkwardly until the gate opened. I trotted off to buy a newspaper while Deborah and Rod stood drooping and hollow-cheeked, like a couple of condemned prisoners in the queue for the gallows. When the dreaded call came, they held on to one another as though trying to stop some giant hand from prising them apart. I turned my back, looking out at the distant thorn trees that quivered beyond the runway. The other passengers began to stroll across the burning apron, fanning themselves with their boarding passes and waving to their friends.

For a minute or more it seemed as though she might change her mind, now that the last moment had come. I wouldn’t have blamed her. Then she was marching across the tarmac, her head up. She paused at the top of the steps and looked back at him. Slowly, the propellers began to turn and their breeze lifted her hair. She bent her head and disappeared into the cabin.

Rod and I shook hands as though we’d just played a round of golf. I had to force myself to look him in the eye. I liked the guy; perhaps he reminded me of the person I used to be—or could have been—before I sold my body and my soul for a flat in Clapham. But I’d brought him nothing but misery.

He leaned forward, shouting above the increasing din of the engines, and I turned my ear towards him.

‘Bring her back if you can,’ he yelled. ‘Please.’

I nodded, clapped him on the shoulder and set off at a run across the apron and up the steps, and they closed the doors behind me.

My seat was next to hers, but she didn’t acknowledge me as I slid into it. The aircraft slowly turned and taxied to the top of the runway where it paused, flexing its muscles, pawing the ground. I usually get a buzz out of that moment. This time, though, it didn’t seem much fun.

The throttle opened, and we lumbered forward with a roar. She pressed her face against the window as the terminal buildings slid away and the landscape blurred with speed. I felt our wheels leave the ground before we banked, turning sharply.

Beneath the shining wing I could see Rod’s unmoving figure, standing on the red earth, and the faithful Cheza beside him. They looked as though they’d wait right there until she came home again.

Deborah lifted one hand, just a few inches. I suppose she was waving goodbye. After all, she was leaving Susie behind. Again.

The journey wasn’t a bundle of laughs.

We had to stop at Nairobi and Dubai. Once we were on the final leg I fell asleep, drifting in the drone of the engines. Mum waited at the kitchen door, holding out her arms to me.

Shortly before we landed at Heathrow I opened bleary eyes to find Deborah trying to prise my headset from around my neck. I hoped I hadn’t been dribbling or snoring. By the time I swam to the surface she’d gone back to staring out of the window.

It was dusk. Our landing lights were ghostly flashes in the gloom, until we burst through the underside of the cloud cover and the wing was a dark shadow against the lights of London. Millions of lights, all the way to the horizon, with the black snake of the Thames twisting through them.

‘Never fails,’ I murmured, craning my neck to peer out. Deborah nodded silently, and for a while we sat and admired the bling. Then she wiped her eyes and turned her back to the window, a determined tilt to her chin.

‘D’you like London, Jake?’

‘Must do. I’ve lived here almost half my life.’

She looked surprised. ‘Really? Why? Aren’t your parents still alive?’

It was there again. The taste of guilt and hatred. ‘Yeah. Sort of. If you can call it living.’

‘So where do you call home, then?’

‘Dunno. I don’t use the word very often.’ I really didn’t want to be having this conversation. Memories had been clamouring at me lately: Mum’s love, and Dad’s barbarism, and Jesse, and Sala. I didn’t intend to pursue the subject, so I took a keen interest in the duty-free magazine.

She wasn’t letting me off that easily. ‘Ever been married? You certainly aren’t gay. I can always tell.’

I had to smile. ‘Can you? How? No, don’t answer that. Not married.’

‘Girlfriend?’

I sighed, and slid the magazine back into its pocket. ‘I’m on a sabbatical.’ The seatbelt sign pinged on, and we dutifully fished under the little cushions and plugged ourselves in. Without thinking, I added: ‘Actually, I was living with someone until a few weeks ago.’

‘Oh.’ Amusement flickered around the soft curve of her mouth. Her upper lip was shaped like a hunting bow. ‘I hadn’t thought of you as having your own life, somehow. You haven’t talked about yourself.’

The hostie was coming round with a basket of those little boiled lollies some airlines hand out to stop your ears popping. ‘Go on, take a handful,’ she whispered invitingly, rattling the basket over my lap. I never turn them down.

Once she’d shimmied past, Deborah started up again. ‘What’s she called?’

I was still watching the hostie. ‘Who? Oh. Anna.’

‘I thought maybe it was Lucy.’

I just laughed at that. I reached down for my boots, hoping she might give up, but she harassed the back of my head. ‘Isn’t that why you came to find me? For Lucy? I imagined it was a sort of knightly quest to please the lady.’

I forced my heel into a boot. ‘Sorry. Nothing so chivalrous.’

‘She wouldn’t be a bad catch.’

‘She’s also almost young enough to be my daughter.’

Deborah raised an eyebrow. ‘That never stopped Perry.’

‘Well, I’m not Perry. Actually, I came because Matt was in a real stew. I also came because I’ve made a complete screw-up of my own life and had nothing better to do. It was all a bit of a frolic. A treasure hunt.’ I began tugging at my laces.

She tilted her head, briefly touching my shoulder with her nose. ‘Thanks for flying back with me. I think I might have legged it at Dubai if I’d been alone.’

‘No problem.’ A sly, pesky little voice in my head kept nagging me about why I’d chosen to come back with her, but I wasn’t listening to it.

‘I needed to get some things organised, anyway,’ I told her. ‘I’m not ready for a long trip, haven’t even decided where I’m going. I’ll drop in at Coptree in a couple of days, collect my car and see how you’re all doing.’

She shook her head firmly. ‘When I emailed Perry, I told him we were
both
arriving on this flight. He’s expecting you to stay.’

She must have seen the indecision on my face because she touched my hand. ‘Please, Jake. I need a Peter Pan like you to keep me sane.’

‘Er . . .’ I wasn’t sure how to put this. ‘But you’ll want the spare room. I mean . . .’

‘Perry has slept in his study for years now.’ She hesitated and then looked away. ‘Long story.’

I was appalled. What a criminal waste. ‘Bloody hell, Debs.’

‘Yes, bloody hell.’ She leaned back, resting her head against the seat.

‘He won’t confront me about where I’ve been, you know.’

‘He might ask
me
.’

‘Mm.’ She chewed her lip, thinking. ‘I doubt it.’

‘Poor Perry.’

‘Huh. You don’t know him, Jake. He’s cunning, like a panther. He’ll take me lovingly in his arms, and we’ll chat as though I’ve just come back from a weekend minibreak. It’s our myth, our united front. We’re a class act.’

We began another circuit. I could see the lights of other aircraft, stacked up and waiting to land. Our hostie swung efficiently down the aisle in her little skirt and jacket, checking all our seats were upright and glaring like an angry Rottweiler at those delinquent passengers who’d started getting their bags down. She smiled benevolently at me, though, and I noticed she’d slapped on some lipstick. She leaned over, checking that my seatbelt was properly adjusted—can’t think why, because it obviously was—then reached up and pressed my overhead locker with long, manicured fingers, just to be sure it wasn’t going to fall open.

Deborah was watching all this with amusement. ‘I reckon you can get your bag down any time you like, so far as
that
hussy’s concerned.’

‘Nah. She’s nice to everyone. It’s her job.’

‘Yes? Her, and Swedish Karin, and the skinny girl in the bank at Nairobi airport. They all start fluttering their eyelashes and sticking out their chests like pigeons. Don’t pretend to be oblivious.’ She looked me over curiously, and I tried not to squirm. ‘You’re essentially youthful. That’s the appeal, isn’t it? Brown eyes, long lashes, winsome smile.’

‘After seventeen hours on a plane, I need a paper bag over my head.’

‘The unshaven look’s pretty rugged, actually,’ she said, smiling.

‘I never saw any girl in the bank.’ Honestly I hadn’t.

A suspicion seemed to strike her ‘Tell me you don’t play rugby? Oh God, you do, don’t you? You’re just the type.’

‘Used to. I gather you think it’s a stupid game.’

‘Of
course
it’s a stupid game. Matt got injured. It’s what sent him off the rails.’

‘He told me.’

‘Did he? Well, I was relieved. You know that sound when two of them collide? The dull thud, and that sort of groan as all the air rushes out of them? Everytime I heard it I felt sick. They’re so heavy, so fast, and so completely
insane
—like young male buffaloes.’

‘Great, isn’t it?’

‘Three times I’ve seen Matt being carried off the pitch. Three! So I stopped going to watch. One day I got the dreaded call—it was his neck. I drove to hospital, speeding and sobbing all the way. Found him lying in casualty, white as a piece of chalk, still in his muddy shorts. He scowled at me as I came dashing in, and d’you know what he said?’

‘What?’

‘ “What the fuck are
you
doing here?” ’

I couldn’t help but smile. It sounded just like Matt. ‘That’s what he says to everyone.’

‘Oh, no.’ She shook her head disgustedly. ‘The nurses thought he was charming and delightful—they were eating out of his hands. Anyway, no more rugby for
him
. You’d think they’d amputated his leg, the fuss he made. He became quite impossible. All that animal aggression was poured into wreaking havoc at school. That’s why we took him out. And that’s why we’re in this mess.’