The Warning Bell

by T D Griggs

  I sat up sharply, sure I had seen something just beyond the stone jetty, but light flared on the broken surface now and there was only churning water. I moved my head, shielding my eyes against the glare, and saw it again, this time quite clearly. A man floating face down, almost submerged, his black-clad body made lissom by the sea.

  I opened my mouth to shout – I don’t know what or to whom – but at that moment the figure lifted its head clear of the water and looked directly at me. The eyes were startlingly white against a face streaked by light and shadow. My cry locked in my throat.

  I put my hands down beside me in the cold grass and felt the coin slip out of my fingers. I scrabbled for it, found it, and when I looked again the lithe shape was sliding through the surf beyond the jetty. A seal; that seemed quite obvious now. It vanished, then reappeared a metre or two further on among a jumble of rocks. It lifted its slick black muzzle and looked directly at me once more before diving again. This time it did not reappear.

  I got to my feet and walked onto the landward end of the jetty. I did not dare go further, but it didn’t matter. There was no sign of the seal in the fractured water, nor of anything else. I stood staring at the waves thudding against the stones.

  I went back through the pines to the fence line and paused to take a last look at the ruins of the farmhouse. Two men were standing in the long grass beside the building; Bonnard and old Garnier. They must have seen me come through the trees but both stood staring at me without any sign of greeting. I held their cold gaze for a moment and then walked away up the cliff path towards St Cyriac.

  42

  Dominic was squatting on the foredeck of 2548 when I arrived. Around him lay piles of coloured tissue paper, a box of sequins, and a green costume of some kind with spangles sewn onto it. He was wrapping a long handled toasting fork in silver baking foil. He didn’t speak as I arrived, just smiled his peaceful smile and gestured for me to come aboard. I settled myself against the hatch cover. I noticed that in the shallows a few metres beyond the bow stood the heron, its dagger bill poised to strike.

  ‘You’re worried, Iain,’ he said, before I could speak. He put down his roll of foil and his toasting fork and looked at me. ‘You’ve heard the warning bell again?’

  ‘Dominic… I know you can’t talk about the old days unless Father Thomas says it’s OK. But can I ask you just one question? You once knew a man called Robert Hamelin, didn’t you?’

  ‘You’ve seen Robert?’ His voice was level, giving nothing away.

  ‘I can’t have, can I?’ I spoke as gently as I could. ‘He’s been dead for years.’

  ‘Still, you’ve seen him,’ he said. ‘He was a great patriot, you know.’

  ‘I’m sure he was.’ I was suddenly uncomfortable with his tone, which was no longer light and breezy. I had an urge to leave at that moment, and I half rose. ‘I’m sure they were all great patriots.’

  ‘Was it at La Division?’ he asked.

  I sat down again. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Robert goes back there. He’s looking for someone who used to live there.’

  ‘Lena Rosen?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Did you know her, too?’

  ‘Of course. I liked Lena. She was very pretty. Robert came back for her, all the way from England. But he couldn’t help her.’

  ‘No. She’d been taken away long before.’

  ‘It’s a sad story,’ he said, and his voice quivered. ‘A very, very sad story.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Dominic. I shouldn’t have asked about this. Don’t worry about it any more.’

  He looked up at me, his eyes bright. ‘But I’m not worried, Iain. You are.’

  ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I am.’

  ‘Father Thomas used to tell me that it was no good looking backwards at bad things when you could look forward to good ones.’

  ‘He was a wise man.’

  He smiled, his light spirit returning. ‘I’m going to speak to Father Thomas tomorrow. I’ve got something special for him. Look.’ He opened a paper bag on the deck beside him and held up a fat purple candle, studded with glittering spangles. ‘I just bought it in the village. Do you think he’ll like it?’

  ‘He’ll love it, Dominic.’

  ‘I think Father Thomas doesn’t want you to worry any more.’

  I said nothing.

  He said: ‘I think that’s why Father Thomas needs to speak to me, so I can give you a message from him. Of course, I couldn’t be sure. I’d have to ask him.’

  He let the silence stretch between us, and then took up his toasting fork again and continued to wrap the shiny foil around it. When he had finished he shook the costume out and smoothed it lovingly on the deck. It had patches of bright green cloth sewn onto it like fish scales.

  ‘Guess who I’m going to be,’ he said.

  ‘King Neptune?’

  ‘That’s right!’ he laughed, delighted at my cleverness. ‘At the carnival on Sunday. I’m King Neptune every year. Daniel and Marie-Louise let me ride on their float. I have a big net and everything. You have to come! Everyone will be there. It’s in the afternoon, in the square, and there’s a party afterwards.’ He added, suddenly serious: ‘Please come, Iain. I’d really like you to.’

  ‘Of course I will.’ I tried to sound eager. ‘How could I miss seeing you in your Neptune outfit?’

  He smiled, happy again. ‘And then I can tell you what Father Thomas says.’

  I got as far as the boatyard on my way home, and didn’t see Marie-Louise Bourgogne until I had almost walked into her.

  ‘Iain?’

  She had moved a director’s chair down beside the track, as if to enjoy the view, but I had no doubt that she had been waiting for me.

  ‘Hello, Marie-Louise.’

  She smiled, but only with her mouth. ‘Did you enjoy your visit? With Dominic?’

  I didn’t reply.

  ‘What do you find to talk about?’

  ‘One thing and another.’ It didn’t seem appropriate to tell her to mind her own business, but I hoped she was getting the message.

  ‘I worry about him being bothered, you see,’ she said, holding her smile.

  ‘By me?’

  ‘I realise you’re curious about the old days, but I don’t think it’s good for Dominic to talk about such things. He’s such a gentle soul, don’t you agree? He should be much too busy enjoying himself, getting ready for the carnival, helping us with the float.’

  ‘For the record,’ I said, ‘Dominic hardly says anything about those days.’

  She picked up my irritation. ‘I’m so sorry, Iain. I don’t want you to think I’m prying. But if you knew the way he is after these visits of yours. I know you don’t mean any harm, but…’

  ‘Marie-Louise, the last thing I’d want to do is upset him,’ I said, more gently. ‘I’m very fond of him.’

  ‘Yes, of course, we all are.’ She looked helplessly at me. ‘Iain, I don’t know what else to say. But I’d so much rather you didn’t see him any more.’

  Before I could find a reply she gathered up her folding chair and hurried away across the lawn.

  43

  I knew something was wrong as soon as I walked into the drive. Bonnard’s trucks were no longer parked outside the house. The front door was open and the lights were on, but I could hear no hammering from inside, no drilling, no blare from the workmen’s radio. The scaffolding had been dismantled from the gable wall. A metre-square hole gaped in the kitchen roof. Serge was up on the ridge, unfurling a tarpaulin.

  ‘Serge? What the hell’s going on?’

  He looked down at the sound of my voice, but before he could answer me Chantal came striding out onto the veranda.

  ‘I was going to ask you that.’ She put her hands on her hips. ‘Oh, and by the way, thanks for picking us up. I’ve been calling you since eight this morning. What’s the point of having a mobile if you don’t turn the bloody thing on?’

  ‘You weren’t due back until tom
orrow.’

  ‘Well, I beg your pardon -’

  But as I approached her and she could see my face, her expression flickered from anger to concern.

  ‘I had a bad night,’ I said. ‘I’ll tell you about it later.’

  I took her arm and drew her into the house. The partition wall in the second bedroom was a pile of bricks and plaster. The floorboards were up in one corner with a few new joists in place and others left scattered. Everything belonging to the builders was gone – tools, trestles, dustsheets; even the clamps that had held the joists in place. I moved through into the kitchen. Kate was at the foot of the ladder. There was a small pool of rainwater near her feet.

  She pulled a face. ‘Dad, they’ve left a real mess.’

  ‘I’ll call Bonnard.’

  ‘I already have,’ Chantal said. ‘I’ve been calling since we got in, but his phone’s ringing out.’

  I thought of Bonnard and Garnier at La Division, and a vision of Marie-Louise on the towpath jumped into my mind.

  ‘I’m really sorry, Monsieur Madoc,’ Serge said, coming down the ladder. ‘The guys were here until a couple of hours ago, and then Bonnard showed up and told them all to pack their gear and move out.’

  I scuffed my boot through the water on the floor. ‘Do you have any idea what this is about, Serge?’

  ‘I asked Bonnard, but he wouldn’t tell me a thing.’

  An empty paint tin lay close to my foot and I kicked it savagely down the hall. I knew that I was behaving like a child but I couldn’t help it. I stalked out of the house and up the steps into the cabin and slammed the door behind me. I went over to the window and leaned against the sill. Almost at once the door handle turned and Chantal came in and closed the door behind her. I swung to face her.

  ‘Jesus, Iain,’ she said. Quite suddenly she started to cry.

  I put my arms round her. ‘I’m sorry. It was wrong of me to go away and leave Serge in charge.’

  ‘Serge isn’t the problem,’ she said, her voice muffled against my shirt.

  ‘I’ll sort it out, Chantal,’ I said. ‘First thing tomorrow I’ll get us another contractor. Someone reliable.’

  She sniffed. ‘The things I’ve seen, without turning a hair. And look at me now, just because the builder’s fucked off.’

  I held her tight. ‘I told Pablo I wanted to build something with my own hands. Now might be a good time to start.’

  She didn’t laugh.

  After a few moments she looked up at me. ‘Iain, what’s happening?’

  I avoided her eyes. ‘I’m not sure.’

  ‘Where were you this morning?’

  ‘I went to La Division.’

  She frowned. ‘What for?’

  ‘They’re going to pull it down. The Garniers. They’ve owned it since the War, since they as good as stole it from the Rosens, and now, all of a sudden, they’re going to pull it down and build right over the top of it.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘So I went up there to take another look. Maybe a last look. And guess what? Garnier’s got security around that old ruin like it was Fort Knox. And Bonnard just happens to be up there visiting.’

  She looked hard at me. ‘You have to tread carefully, cheri. You can’t make waves about this sort of thing in a place like St Cyriac. I told you that before.’

  ‘We walk around on eggshells, just in case we hurt someone’s feelings?’

  ‘Do you think this only happens here?’ she flared. ‘Try it in Northern Ireland. Try asking about people there who disappeared and never came back. Or in Bosnia. Or Sicily. Or Argentina. This isn’t history, Iain. Not in this country. It isn’t Trafalgar. It isn’t at a safe distance.’ She turned away and stared out of the window. ‘You’re going to have to stop this. You’ll ruin everything. I don’t know what questions you’ve been asking, but you’re really pissing somebody off. Promise me you’ll stop.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘What do you mean, no?’

  ‘I just can’t promise you that.’

  She stood facing me, her chest rising and falling.

  I said: ‘Look, you’re right. I’ve upset somebody, that’s for sure. And why do you think that is? Because I’ve started picking holes in their comfortable fucking fiction about the past.’

  She shook her head in bewilderment. ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘For a start, the tides don’t fit. My father and Billington couldn’t have got out of the Vasse on the night of 14th of June, 1944. It would have been a physical impossibility. The tide was flowing in. And that’s not guesswork. That’s a fact. Maybe they got out some other night, but not that night.’

  She stared at me. ‘Do you seriously think the whole village would have got the date wrong? It was the most important bloody date in their history. Iain, just leave this alone.’

  ‘I must be pushing some of the right buttons – look what’s happened here. And now you want me to walk away from it? You could never have done that, and you know it.’

  ‘I’ll tell you what I know. I know when it’s time to pull the plug before you get hurt – or you get somebody else hurt.’

  The door of the main house crashed open. Chantal and I both looked round. Serge stamped down the steps into the garden and marched past the window of the cabin.

  Kate shouted after him: ‘Go and drown your bloody stupid self, if that’s what you want!’ She threw something out after him, his backpack probably, which thudded into the turf.

  Serge took a couple of steps to retrieve it. He said: ‘Katrine, come on. This is ridiculous. You know I have to go.’

  ‘Look at the weather! Even I can see it’s breaking up. You’re going out in this?’

  ‘It’ll blow itself out. For God’s sake, I’ve been out in worse.’

  ‘Fuck off, then!’ she screamed. ‘And don’t bother to come back!’

  I pushed the door open and stepped outside. Serge had already reached his bike. He revved the engine fiercely and took off up the drive, lifting the front wheel, spraying mud and gravel. Kate came down the steps and ran past me, shouting, suddenly pleading with him not to go. Serge swerved out of the gate and careered off down the road, leaving her standing there, her hands opening and closing at her sides. I could see from the heaving of her shoulders that she was sobbing.

  Chantal moved past me and took a couple of steps towards her. ‘Katrine?’

  Kate turned and fled past us into the house, white faced and wild.

  Chantal and I looked at one another.

  I said: ‘Maybe we could both use a drink.’

  ‘You go ahead. I’ll just see how she is.’

  In the kitchen, with the wind tugging at the tarpaulin above me, I opened a bottle of Medoc and set it on the pine table. Chantal came in as I was pouring.

  ‘She’s pretty cut up,’ she said.

  ‘He’ll be back in the morning.’

  She sat down and toyed with her glass. She didn’t look convinced.

  I said: ‘I want to know what really happened in this place during the War, and what Dad had to do with it. That’s all.’

  She put her chin in her hands and gazed gravely up at me. ‘No, Iain, you want more than that. You want what everyone wants – you want it to make sense. You want to see some order in it, some truth. That’s what people like me fool ourselves we bring into people’s living rooms, from Iraq or Afghanistan or Darfur. But we don’t. Maybe we never have.’ She reached out and touched my hand. ‘You know what none of us can bear? The thought that it’s all so random. That our sons or sisters or fathers were destroyed by people who didn’t know them, didn’t hate them, sometimes never saw them, and often didn’t even know they’d done it. Because that would be mad, wouldn’t it? That would just be pointless bloody lunacy.’

  I stared down into my wine. I could feel her eyes on me.

  ‘You asked me once if you should stop, and I said no then. I’m saying yes now.’

  Over the patter of the rain and the bustling of the wind we
could both hear Kate weeping.

  44

  I sat on the iron bench by the graves of my father’s crew while the congregation filed out of morning Mass. The worshippers were mostly elderly, their faces shining with virtue. Many of them nodded to me as they passed. I nodded back, and when I thought they had all gone I walked over to the church door. One parishioner, an old lady in a mauve tweed suit, must have lingered behind, because I nearly collided with her in the porch. She smiled and held the church door for me. I thanked her and stepped into the cool stillness.

  I could smell candle smoke and the scent of the flowers arranged in vases either side of the altar, fountains of white and purple and blue in the half light. Between them I saw Felix, kneeling before the altar. He got to his feet, crossed himself, and came down the steps towards me.

  ‘I gather Bonnard’s left you with half a roof,’ he said. ‘I’ve a good mind to excommunicate the bastard.’

  ‘Chantal thinks it’s my own fault for asking too many questions.’

  ‘It’s not illegal to ask questions, though it’s not always a great idea to drag up the past when no one can benefit from it.’ He paused. ‘Some of these guys are just bigoted old farts, Iain. They’ll piss on an outsider soon as look at him. You don’t want to read too much into one incident.’

  ‘Not just one. I had that run-in with Garnier before I went to England. Then yesterday I got a lecture from Marie-Louise, warning me off Dominic.’

  ‘Marie-Louise?’ He looked puzzled. ‘What was her problem?’

  ‘She seemed afraid that I’d upset the old man. But maybe there was something more.’

  ‘Something more like what?’

  ‘I don’t know. But whenever I poke around under the surface of my father’s story, something comes up and bites me.’

  He looked at me, his brow still furrowed. ‘One problem, of course, is that it’s not just your father’s story.’ He squared his shoulders. ‘But leave this to me. I’ll have a quiet word here and there.’