by Sarah Duncan
'He was needy,' Lu protested, realising she'd eaten a huge slab of carrot cake in record time.
'He was normal. Maybe a bit OTT, but most women would have loved it. Blimey, if Jerry did half that stuff - no, correction, ten per cent - I'd be thrilled.'
'It was quite nice,' Lu said, thinking back to the regular supply of flowers, the attentive phone calls, the cute texts. 'But it got too much. Anyway, how is Jerry? Did he sell well? I know Marcus bought one of his.'
'The gallery did pretty well. I was a bit nervous, what with the state of the financial markets, but I think people have decided to invest in art. After all, if you're only getting pennies in interest, you might as well take a punt on something you can enjoy on the wall. All of Jerry's work sold; I was worried that his market would have dried up, but it seemed to be fine.'
'Trust Jerry.'
Briony laughed. 'I know it's not to your taste, but it is a lot of people's.'
'And the man himself? He seemed on good form at the party.'
'Oh, Jerry's always on good form. Life's one big party to him.' There was a bitter edge to Briony's voice.
'Is everything all right?'
Briony twiddled her pen in her fingers. 'Same old stuff: I complain because he's peering down girls' cleavages; he says he's just having fun and enjoying himself; I feel like a miserable old prune. I know he doesn't mean anything by it, but it's so obvious. And he's always got some model in his studio without her clothes on. He says nudes sell, and I know they do, I just wish he'd do something like landscapes.'
'But you're not really suspicious, are you?'
'No. Yes.' Briony doodled a scribble on the cover of her notebook. 'I know a lot of it is simply in my head, but then you think, no smoke without fire.'
'To be fair, he's always been a bit like that.'
'I know, but you'd have thought he'd have changed by now, settled down. I want us to sell our flats and buy somewhere together, but he says it's a bad time to sell and we should wait. I know it's a bad time to sell, but is that really any reason to our lives on hold? Who knows how long the recession is going to last? So we have a row and he stomps off, and then we make up and it's as if none of it's happened. I just don't feel we're going anywhere, apart from in circles.' Briony looked at her hands, silver rings on most fingers. 'Sometimes I think I might be better breaking up and moving on, finding someone who does want to settle down with me.'
Lu didn't know what to say. On the one hand, Jerry was not her favourite person; on the other, Briony had been through this cycle so many times before. The next time she saw her, Jerry might have suddenly become Mr Wonderful again. 'It's tricky...' she started to say.
'I know, if you were me, you'd have dumped Jerry years ago. But most of the time it's so good together. It's only that last ten per cent, and it's not even that. We all have to make compromises somewhere along the line.'
Lu didn't say anything. She didn't intend to compromise, not ever. When she met Mr Right, that would be it. She didn't want to waste her time on Mr Wrongs. Oh Marcus, why do you have to go to Minneapolis?
Lu's phone rang. She checked it, then let it fall back in her bag.
'Not answering?'
Lu shook her head. 'My agent. It'll either be to tick me off for being behind with my deadline or to offer me more work that I don't want to do.'
'How very glam to be offered work you don't want to do.'
'Hardly.' Lu slurped her cappuccino, not caring if she made noises or got a foam moustache. 'I don't know, I had such high ideals when I left college about what I was going to do. It was only going to be top-end picture books.'
'And that's what you did.'
'So how come I'm here, doing flat-fee work about vegetables? Sometimes I feel like a machine. They give me the brief, they wind me up, I churn the work out by a set time to a set fee. Half the time they give me the brief late, so I end up delivering the work late, but that's somehow my fault, so they're pissed off and my agent gives me an ear-bashing about being reliable and professional.'
'You sound pissed off too.'
Lu spooned the last dregs of cappuccino out. 'I don't know. Sometimes I can remember how I used to feel about illustration, how it was the most important thing in the world to me, but to be honest, that seems a long time ago. The creativity has gone out of it; it feels like the books are designed by committees.'
'You could go back to individual top-end picture books rather than this flat-fee series work. You did that once.'
'Somehow I seem to have slipped out of that market and I can't get back into it. My agent doesn't appear to be able to get me the commissions.'
'What about writing your own again?' Briony checked her watch, and started to gather her papers up.
'But that would mean turning work down - paying work. I'd have to develop a book with no guarantee it would get published, and the illustration market is tricky at the moment.' Lu rummaged in her bag for her purse. 'It's a Catch 22: I need money to live off so I can't afford to turn work down, but because I'm fully booked with flat-fee work I'm not free to even have a crack at the sort of jobs I'd like to do. When I started this series, I thought it was really cute, but now I could murder the person who wrote them.'
'I always thought cute was king in the illustration business.'
'It is, it is.' Lu put down the money to pay her bill, thinking she was going to have to give up having coffee and cake with Briony quite so often at this rate. 'I know it sells, but I wish I could do something a bit more meaty.'
'Like what? Farmyard animals?'
Briony looked so pleased with her joke that Lu laughed as she stood up. 'I didn't mean to come and dump all this on you.'
'No problem.' Briony got up too. 'It makes a change from artists whingeing about the gallery's commission.'
Lu looked around the cafe, the walls hung with art for sale. Many of them had red dots beside them. 'You were better than any of the stuff here. Don't you miss it?'
'Never.' Briony looked at the art. 'And while it's nice of you to say so, I don't think I was that good to start out with. Plus I never had the drive that some people had, regardless of talent. I mean, look at Jerry. He works hard at his painting, yes, but he also has one eye on the market all the time and he networks furiously. I can think of other people in our year - Maria, for instance - who were really, really talented, but they didn't have any of the other skills you need to make a career of it. By the way, someone at the party told me Maria had got four kids under five. Imagine!'
Lu pulled on her coat and wrapped her scarf twice round her neck. 'Yuck. As far as I'm concerned, my biological clock can tick until it's blue in the face and I still won't want them.'
'Not even with Mr Right?' Briony slipped on her coat, a square kimono sort of affair in what looked like posh blanket material. It radiated I Own An Art Gallery.
Lu shook her head, thinking that her own coat must radiate I'm Seriously Broke. 'Not even with him. Speaking of children, I know what I wanted to ask you - do you know anything about tracing your family history?'
Briony shook her head. 'Nothing. Why?'
'You know my gran? She's got to have her wisdom teeth out and, while it's a pretty routine op, because of her age and everything, she's really worried about it. I think she thinks she's going to die.' Lu shivered involuntarily at the thought and Briony wrinkled her nose sympathetically. 'Anyway, she's asked me to do a bit of research into our family history and, in particular, this photograph she's got of a First World War soldier. And I haven't a clue where to start.'
'Can't you look it up online?'
'In theory, yes, but it's hard to know where to start. There must be about twenty zillion sites on the First World War - which one do you go for? It's the sort of thing that if you know what you're looking for it's really easy, but if you don't know anything about it, you're stuck.'
Briony looked thoughtful. 'Actually, I might be able to help, or at least I know someone who could. Nick Jones. He was at the party. Not obvious
ly attractive but quite sexy. Looks a bit like Gerard Depardieu.'
Lu nodded. 'I know who you mean. I met him briefly with Jerry.' She had a hazy picture of the man, before he was eclipsed by the wonders of Marcus.
'He's something to do with war, ex-soldiers, I'm not sure what exactly. I don't think he's a historian, but he seems a really nice guy, so I'm sure he'll help if he can. Look, I've got his number somewhere here...' Briony put all her papers back down on the cafe table and started to flick through the numbers on her mobile.
'Brilliant. Anything is better than floundering around the Internet for hours. How do you know him?'
'His wife is one of my artists - does abstract landscapes, sells well. I had thought there was some problem with them because I hadn't seen him about for ages - not that Morwenna said anything because she's very private, keeps it all professional - but I assume it's all fine; anyway, they seemed very amicable at the private view. Look, here's the number - do you want me to call him now?'
Lu blinked. 'Um, yes, why not?'
Briony rang the number and after a few rings, someone answered. They exchanged pleasantries about the exhibition, then Briony said, 'I'm after a favour for a friend. Lu Edwards - I think you met her briefly at the party. Long brown hair, a bit hippyish.' Lu frowned at Briony. A bit hippyish? Just because she didn't wear black all the time like Briony.
'Yes, that's right, an illustrator.' Briony nodded at Lu and did a thumbs-up. Lu was cheered by this proof that she was memorable, even though hippyish. 'She needs some help tracking down a First World War soldier, and I thought of you. She's right here - shall I pass you over?' Briony handed the phone to Lu.
'Hi. Um. Sorry to bother you.'
'No bother. Briony says you need some help tracking down a soldier?'
Lu explained the situation, and how she was finding it difficult.
'It's not too bad when you know your way around the sites.' He spoke slowly, his voice reassuring. 'I'd be happy to help get you started.'
'Thank you so much, that'd be great.' They arranged to meet at a local pub the next evening, then Lu hung up and handed the phone back to Briony. 'He seems nice.'
'Attractive too,' Briony said as they walked to the exit, Lu's face suddenly feeling brittle as the cold air hit it after the warmth of the cafe.
'Not my type. Too broad. Too married. Anyway, I'm after him for his knowledge, not his body.' Outside on the pavement, Lu gave Briony a hug. 'Thanks for helping - and cheer up. You're always having ups and downs with Jerry; perhaps you're just having another down right now.'
Briony hugged Lu back. 'Expect you're right. Good luck with Nick.'
- ooo -
Lu got to the pub the following day earlier than she'd expected. Inside it was dark but welcoming. They'd taken a tired pub, badly modernised in the seventies, and ripped out the old interior, revealing the original features such as the fireplace and oak floors. They'd made a snug area in the darkest corner, with over-scaled flock wallpaper in purple and black. It should have looked wrong, but here it worked, although it did make the corner very dark. Lu looked around hoping to see Nick, but she couldn't spot him. She felt a frisson of fear, a bit like on a first date - what if she didn't recognise him at all? Perhaps the pub was filled with men who looked like a dark-haired Gerard Depardieu. On the other hand, looking around, perhaps not.
She got herself a drink from the bar and chose a table, settling down with her back to the wall so she could see the main entrance without it looking as if she was staring anxiously. She got out her sketchpad, more to give herself something to do, then she noticed the couple two tables down. The man had the most enormous nose. It was huge. Humongous. Quickly she sketched the outline as best she could. He was staring morosely at his plate, as if he'd asked for steak and been served salad - rabbit food, he probably called it, she thought as she started cross-hatching round his cheeks. And his eyebrows - like prawns stuck on to his brow ridges. There, off they went like firecrackers, shooting sparks from his eyes, his hair like wire wool, tight as a terrier's, and then down and round to the ears, mottled red like old meat on the butcher's counter, and then -
'Lu. Hello.'
Lu looked up, reluctantly focusing on the shape in front of her. Oh, yes, Nick. She gave herself a mental shake. Yes - Nick. 'I'm sorry,' she said, closing her sketchpad. 'I was miles away.'
Nick raised his eyebrows - no prawns there. 'Remind me never to ask you to draw me.'
'What? Oh no, this is nothing, I always carry it with me.' Lu slipped the pad into her bag. 'Thanks so much for meeting me.'
'No problem.' He sat down next to her. 'You said on the phone you needed to track down a First World War soldier.'
'Yes, but let me get you a drink first.'
Lu went to the bar and ordered a pint of bitter. Nick was and wasn't what she'd expected. Her memory of him had been hazy, a big guy, not as tall as Marcus but broad, his demeanour relaxed and pleasant. He was still all these things, but shaggy might have been a better description, although he wasn't unkempt in any way. Maybe his hair was a bit too long and needed a decent cut, maybe his shirt looked as if it was about to become untucked. For a second she saw him as a little boy, the sort with scabby knees and socks concertina'd round the ankles and a Swiss Army penknife in his pocket, the sort that was always busy doing something, the sort that was fun to draw.
She paid for his pint then carried it back carefully. Nick took a long drink, as if he needed it.
'Hard day?'
He nodded. 'I've not been doing this job for long, so I'm still on the learning curve.'
'I don't know what it is you do - Briony just said it was something to do with war.'
'Not exactly. I work for a charity that helps former members of the armed forces, whether it's helping them to adjust to civilian life, or deal with disabilities or pensions or any other issues.'
'So, nothing to do with the history of the First World War then.'
'Not directly, but I know my way around.' Nick sipped his pint again. 'I was brought in to run a project linked with the centenary of the First World War in five years' time, so although my background is in marketing and fund-raising rather than military history, I'm starting to learn about it. Now. What did you want to know?'
'My grandmother's given me a photograph of a soldier; I'm guessing he's in First World War uniform. She thinks he might be her father and she wants me to find him, but I don't know where to start.' Lu had scanned the photograph into her computer and printed off a copy, not wanting to lug the heavy photograph frame around with her. She handed the copy to Nick'
'Do you know his name? His regiment?'
'I've got his name, but I don't know anything else. He looks terribly young,' she added.
'Some of them signed up at fifteen, fourteen even,' Nick said, shaking his head. 'Poor lads, they had no idea what they were letting themselves in for. Though it has to be said, most of them were a lot older. The Army paid well, much more than most ordinary men could earn.' He bent his head to look at the photograph more closely. 'It's a bit blurry, but with a magnifying glass we'd be able to work out his rank and regiment from the buttons and insignia, and then it will be a lot easier. Do you know if he was a regular soldier or just enlisted?'
Lu shook her head. 'I don't know.'
'And did he die in the war?'
'I know nothing at all about him beyond his name and the fact that my grandmother believes he's her father. Which would make him my great-grandfather.' Lu peered at the photograph in Nick's hands, hoping to feel some connection. But he remained just a man in uniform. 'Would it make a difference if he had died?'
'It's much easier to look up soldiers who died while serving in the Army.' He leaned forward. 'The Internet makes it easy.'
'That's what everyone keeps telling me, but it isn't!'
Nick laughed. 'No, really, it is.'
If you know where to look, Lu thought as Nick pulled out his iPhone and flipped it open. He pressed the keypad a couple of tim
es, waited for Internet access, then tapped in a site. 'Right. What was his name?'
'Jack Havergal,' Lu said, peering over his arm at the screen, trying to see what he was doing. In the dimly lit pub interior, the screen glowed in his hand.
'That sounds like an unusual name which will make it more straight-forward if he's there. Let's see...' Nick typed in the name, pressed enter. 'Yes, there he is. Private Jack Havergal, Somerset Light Infantry, died first of July 1916. Thiepval Memorial.' He showed the screen to Lu.
'Is that it? You've just found him.' She stared at him in disbelief. 'How did you do it?'
'Like I said, the Internet makes it easy.' His eyes twinkled at her. 'If he'd been Jack Smith, we'd have been searching for ever.'
Lu thought of all the time she'd spent getting frustrated sitting in front of her computer. 'I can't believe you just did it. You're a genius.' She shuffled nearer to him, peering over his shoulder at his iPhone, trying to see the details of Jack Havergal, her great-grandfather. She was surprised at how excited she felt. Somehow the man in the photograph had just become real. 'What else can you tell me? Where was he born? What did he do?' She looked up at Nick expectantly, but he shook his head.
'This site just deals with soldiers who died. I know you can search the births, deaths and marriage registers online, but I'm not sure of the sites; you'd have to do a bit more research for that. Then you can send off for his birth certificate, marriage certificate, whatever you need, and that should tell you some more. That's all family history and it's not my field. What I can tell you is that he was probably a volunteer in the infantry and died at the Somme on the most beautiful summer morning.' His voice had an edge to it and Lu looked at him with surprise'
'How do you know that?'
'The date. July 1st 1916. First day of the Battle of the Somme.'
Lu knew the Somme was one of the major battles of the First World War, but she'd thought the war was all about mud and rain, not beautiful summer days. 'Sorry,' she said. 'I didn't do history at school.'