Garstein's Legacy

by Peter D Wilson

  Chapter 10. Discovery

  Neil Ainsworth made his statement to the Vienna police as brief and objective a he could. He had been talking to Dr. Harris and standing beside him at the time the Italians approached. Out of the corner of his eye he had been vaguely aware of Bertolucci and Antomelli but took no particular notice, as he was more concerned to see where would be the best place to board the approaching train. Consequently he had not realised the danger until Dr. Harris cannoned into him and then off the platform. He had no reason to suppose that it might have been anything but a tragic accident, nor had anyone else so far as he was aware.

  The following morning's session of the seminar opened with a minute's silence in respect towards the late Dr. Harris, then got down to the scheduled business. Neil's heart was not really in it, and his mind returned to his last words with Harris. He supposed that the flaw in the INL plan would probably be noticed before there was any commitment of material resources, but then it ought to have been spotted long before. To be on the safe side he would write to the co-author listed in the programme. It might be tactful to append his thoughts to a note of condolence, on the conventional assumption that the death would be regretted, although from his slight acquaintance he was not too sure about that.

  There was no immediate response but five weeks later he received an e-mail from Jim Monaghan. "Many thanks for your message of condolence and the attachment, which Dr. Bradshaw has forwarded to me and is greatly appreciated. Dr. Harris will indeed be very seriously missed. The technical issue that you describe was, as you probably realise, remote from his own field and he could not have been expected to query it. I have since raised it with the specialist concerned who confirms that it had in fact been overlooked."

  Neil smiled to himself; "raising the point" almost certainly meant a very sharp and well-merited rebuke. The message continued: "The outline solution that you suggest appears very interesting, and as we have no one in this section with the expertise to elaborate it, I have received approval to offer you a consultancy. The formalities took longer than expected, hence my delay in responding to you, for which I sincerely apologise. If you are willing in principle to consider this offer, please send me your provisional acceptance as soon as possible and we can then consider concrete arrangements, including of course your fee."

  Neil was astonished to find himself called in rather than an American chemist or chemical engineer, of whom there must have been plenty quite as well acquainted with that kind of process, although since the Carter presidency its application had been somewhat neglected. However, he was only too well aware how often and how seriously issues of organisational politics or "face" might cloud apparently straightforward technical considerations, and he supposed that something of the sort might well be involved here. Whatever the reason, he was coming up to retirement and not disposed to look this particular gift horse too closely in the mouth, so he replied that he was indeed interested. Again there was some delay before any further contact, perhaps because of some internal wrangling over the terms to be offered. When the draft contract arrived they were more generous than he had dared to hope, and he accepted them without hesitation.

  As it happened another three months passed before his first visit to INL and introduction by Monaghan to Chris Bradshaw, who struck him as a thoroughly agreeable character although perhaps a rather surprising choice to head that particular project. Still, that was none of his business. He was shown the engineering test rig and expressed due admiration, then at a team meeting presented his understanding of the original process scheme, his objections to it, the way he proposed to overcome them, and the kind of design extensions that would be needed to accommodate it; unfortunately they would be substantial, involving a whole new range of equipment, but that was inevitable.

  The reason lay in the need to separate the recovered plutonium from material protecting the dissolver itself from the extremely corrosive reagents need to attack the oxide, which would be very resistant especially after it had been through an incinerator. The technology he invoked was familiar, and in fact there were two basic types of equipment that would serve the purpose, one very much more user-friendly than the other, with the choice depending on how heavily the plutonium was contaminated with other radioactive materials that might also pass into solution - another possibility that had previously been disregarded.

  This prompted some discussion among his hosts, with the eventual conclusion that it was perhaps not to be ignored but substantially less than had been in the spent fuel from even the earliest industrial reactors. That was fortunate, since it meant they could use mixer-settlers, the kind easier to control, a very serious consideration when it would not be readily accessible once put into service.

  "How easy?" someone asked.

  "Well, once, to test a particular point, I set up such a system on the laboratory bench using a dozen ordinary glass beakers connected by inverted U-tubes, plus a couple of pumps and a few stirrers, with nothing at all in the way of design calculations beforehand, and it worked perfectly well at any reasonable setting of the pumps."

  "What was the point you were trying to test, then?"

  "I don't remember now, so it can't have been terribly important. Nothing to do with the operation of the equipment, anyway. That was probably why I went about it in such a casual way - it wasn't worth all the fuss of a proper design study and specially-built kit. I don't suppose it would be possible now, with all the safety implications you have to consider before you so much as blow your nose."

  At that point a very serious-looking young man stood up and said he hoped that Dr. Ainsworth was not trying to belittle safety culture, prompting cries of "Oh, not again!" - "For goodness' sake!" - "Sit down, Jerry," and worse. Jerry flushed a deep red and did sit down, but looked very cross.

  Neil thought it a little unfair on him, but understood the reaction very well. "No, Jerry, not at all, when it's applied with a bit of common sense, and you're quite right to stress its importance, but there's a troublesome tendency these days to take it to an inordinate extent even with obviously minuscule risks. It gets to a point where it presents real dangers of its own; I'm sure you must be aware that sometimes worrying too much about trivialities distracts attention from more serious hazards and can even create some that didn't exist before. Sometimes I'm reminded of a swan I watched chasing harmless ducks away from its nest while behind its back a rat stole the eggs."

  Jerry still looked glum but made no comment, so Neil continued. "But to get back to the substantive issue, the technology I'm proposing you should use is well established, so I don't foresee the need for much research. On the other hand I've known instances - two come to mind straight away - where over-confidence in existing knowledge almost led to failure of the whole project because that knowledge was incomplete, and worse, not known to be incomplete; almost a case of pride coming before a fall, I'm afraid. I think you'd best run some confirmatory process studies on a small scale, then inactive trials with a full-sized mock-up of the plant as you intend it to be."

  He had no more to say at that stage; Bradshaw thanked him formally, there were a few questions, not particularly demanding, and that appeared to be that for the time being. Money for jam, he thought.

  Afterwards in private, Bradshaw thanked him again for his presentation and suggested a further visit during the pilot runs, to which Neil agreed in principle; definite arrangements could be made nearer the time if it still seemed appropriate so far ahead. Something else also occurred to him, unrelated to the technical matters. "I don't know whether you heard about the circumstances of the accident to Dr. Harris, but I happened to be talking to him at the actual time. If he has any family living hereabouts, I'd rather like to offer my personal condolences if it's possible now that we've finished our business so early. Maybe, too, they'd be pleased to hear how well his paper had been received. Do you know if there is anyone?"

  "It's a kind thought. He had no children, but there's a widow, though I b
elieve they'd been estranged for some time. Still, absence may have made the heart grow fonder. I've some telephone numbers and can make enquiries during the lunch break." It turned out that she was actually at the marital home in Idaho Falls and would be glad to see him. "But she's just there to close it down and hopes you'll understand if it seems a bit Spartan."

  "Of course, I don't want to embarrass her."

  "I don't think you'll do that. I'll arrange a car for you."

  Josie had little occasion to visit the city at that time. Once she had disposed of Don's effects, apart from a few mementoes of their early married life, she had sub-let the apartment for all but the last week of the lease. The tenants had moved on, and now that she had finished most of her other business she was checking what else might need to be done before she was due to return the keys a couple of days later. The call from Bradshaw came as a complete surprise, and she was rather embarrassed but felt that she could not refuse the offer; the visitor must be a sympathetic type to make the suggestion - or was that wishful thinking?

  Neil appreciated her situation and suggested they should adjourn to a coffee bar, which seemed a good idea. Once they had ordered and were settled, conversation was a little hard to start, but Josie thanked him for thinking of her; she really did want to hear how Don had been, and was glad that he had happened to catch her in the city. "You usually live somewhere else, I gather."

  "Yes, I work for a tour company in West Yellowstone, and it's too far for daily commuting."

  "That's a place I've always wanted to see - the park, I mean. No time on this trip, of course; I fly home tomorrow."

  "Are you likely to come again?"

  "Yes, that's part of the agreement, though it probably won't be for a year or so."

  "Then supposing everything still suits, what do you say to allowing a couple of days for a quick tour of the area? After you've been kind enough to come out to see me I'd love to show you around."

  "It hasn't been all that great a kindness!"

  "Perhaps not, but I appreciate it. And Mr. Bradshaw said something about your helping with a problem that hadn't been noticed in Don's project.

  "It wasn't really a problem of his - a difficulty that someone else had overlooked and Don couldn't be expected to know about."

  "Even so, it might have reflected on him. If anyone else had noticed and been less tactful, it almost certainly would have done."

  "Don't give credit where it isn't due; it wasn't tact, there simply wasn't time for my question in the meeting. Perhaps I might have thought of arranging to see him privately once he'd confirmed my understanding of the intended process, but I'm not at all sure. On these occasions there can be a very great temptation to point-scoring."

  "Anyway, when you know about your next visit, let me know and I'll arrange everything. Now do tell me about Don. I never saw him at all after we broke up three years ago, but I still cared for him. I hoped he'd come to his senses and we could get back together again, but it wasn't to be."

  "Well, he seemed pretty fit, although he limped a bit at times."

  "That would be the injury he got - did you know about his kidnap and rescue?"

  "Someone mentioned it at lunch today. Bad, was it?"

  "Pretty bad, but as he said, others came off worse. Still, he was on pretty strong pain-killers, and even those weren't always effective."

  "I suppose that would account for my impression he could be a rather difficult character."

  "Probably, the pain did make him irritable. That wasn't what I was anxious about, though. Soon after he got back to work he developed a terrible drink problem - that was what broke us up, in fact - although I heard later that he'd been trying to kick it. Were there any signs of it?"

  "None that I could see, and no one I've spoken to today has mentioned anything of the sort, though of course there'd be no occasion for bringing it up."

  "So he'd done it. I wish I'd known. I still loved him - leastways, what he had been - but we had no contact except through my aunt. I think she may have been a bit over-protective there, although it would be well meant."

  "I'm sure it was. Beating that sort of habit is a hell of a job, and she may not have believed he'd done it so well."

  "I suppose not. Ah well, it's too late now. There is one thing, though; I'm very glad that he got his self respect back."

  "And the respect of his colleagues. The paper he delivered in Vienna was mostly out of my area, but people who knew his subject seemed to find it very impressive."

  Neither could think of much more to say after that, so he saw her back to the apartment, promised to let her know when he was next coming to INL, and returned to his hotel for the night.

  Six months later, Bradshaw sent him the engineering design for the pilot plant, which as far as Neil could see was satisfactory, but there was apparently some difficulty in getting the necessary construction effort. He wondered if he dare send a reminder to build it in stainless steel rather than normal engineering stock; it might seem like teaching a grandmother to suck eggs, but the drawings did not carry the material specification he expected, and while that might mean that no other was ever used, it could just as easily be another oversight. He got round the difficulty by suggesting in his acknowledgement, just in case they hadn't already thought of it, that when they came to the commissioning process they should take it in cautious stages, for instance first testing the set-up with plain water; it would be much easier and safer (Jerry would surely approve) to check for leaks, blockages and mis-connections before anything more noxious went into the plant. To make the point he added the amusing if possibly apocryphal tale of how a stainless nitric acid line in an early plant had been inadvertently connected to a mild steel handrail and flooded the area when the acid attacked the steel.

  For the inactive mock-up, he recommended using Perspex as easier to work and allowing the internal operation to be observed visually. That would be far more informative than relying on instruments or merely inferring what was happening inside.

  He never heard whether his warning had been necessary, but would have worried had he not given it. His next visit to INL was eighteen months later to witness the pilot-scale trials of his process. From past experience he was well prepared for some hitches if not for more serious problems, but to his relief there were no particularly unpleasant surprises. The Perspex mixer-settler bank aroused a lot of interest, and the fitters who had built it with much puzzlement over its function were especially intrigued when brought in to see it working. That effectively concluded his contract, although in case any minor problems arose within his competence he offered to advise informally on the basis of friendship.

  By arrangement, Josie collected him from his hotel the morning after his business was complete, and asked if he would mind her calling briefly on relatives in Ashton on the way. "Where's that? I haven't heard of it before."

  "It's a little town right on our route. They've always been good to me, in fact they practically brought me up, and they've been marvellous over Don's problem."

  "Then you obviously must call on them. I hope they won't think you've collected a sugar daddy."

  Josie laughed. "No, I explained how you'd met Don and had some business here in consequence. Sal seemed particularly keen to meet you, though I'm not sure why. I think she likes to vet my men friends." It was said in jest, but there was some truth in it, especially after the experience with Don.

  Sal Hamilton indeed welcomed him warmly: Bill was out just then, but expected back soon. Josie excused herself for a few minutes, and while she was out of the room Neil commented on something that had puzzled him. "Josie's still quite young, and so was Don, but I've heard no mention of parents or in-laws. What happened to them, or shouldn't I ask?"

  "It is rather a delicate matter, but there's no harm in your knowing. Josie was actually the daughter of my young sister. Not long out of high school, she had the chance to go off on a European tour, and the couple who were supposed to be k
eeping an eye on her turned out to be shockingly lax. In fact it seems they went off for a few days on a side trip of their own. Somehow Yvonne got involved with a rather loose bunch, not the sort she was used to, and after she got back her it turned out she was pregnant. She knew who the father was - there was no other possibility, more than plenty of girls could say - but had lost touch with him."

  "Hadn't he told her anything about himself - where he came from, who his family were, anything like that?"

  "It seems not, at least not enough to trace him. He said they were a bit strait-laced and he'd drifted away from them. The only clue we have to his identity is this group photograph. There were no names with it; not that they'd be likely to help us much, anyway. Of course the family made sure that Yvonne was properly looked after during the pregnancy, but when it came to the birth, something went wrong and she died soon afterwards, so we brought Josie up practically as our own. And we've been very glad we did; she's turned out very well, though I say it myself."

  "I'd say you'd done a thoroughly good job there. What about Don?"

  "Oh, he quarrelled with his parents over breaking away from some very strict religious sect I hadn't heard of. To make it worse they had positions of authority in it, and when they realised he was to marry a 'child of sin' which is what they called Josie, it was the last straw for them. They disowned him completely and he had nothing to do with them since. For all practical purposes they might as well be dead. Maybe they are, of course."

  Neil felt that the photograph reminded him of something and asked if he might take a closer look at it. It was the usual kind of holiday snap with people posing self-consciously in front of Sacré-Cœur de Paris, but there was something more, something about the group itself that stirred his memory. He asked which of the figures was Yvonne, and Sal pointed it out, with a young man's hand rather possessively round the waist. That young man particularly interested him, but the image was small and Neil's sight not too good at close range. "Sal, have you a magnifying glass of some kind?"

  "Bill had one when his eyes were giving trouble a while back, but I'm not sure what happened to it. Would you like me to look?"

  "I'm sorry to put you to any trouble, but this could be important." She went to search and was gone for some time before finding it; meanwhile Neil had almost but not quite convinced himself.

  When she returned Neil studied the photograph very carefully as the issue was so serious that he had to be certain. One detail clinched it, and he handed the snap back to her.

  "You see that young fellow who seems to regard Yvonne as his personal property?"

  "What about him? Is it someone you know?"

  "Yes. It's hard to believe, but that's my brother."

  "What? It can't be!"

  "I thought this photo looked familiar, and that's why; he had another print of it, and I particularly remember the silly hat he was wearing. I believe he still has it - about the only relic of his misspent youth that his wife's let him keep. And now I think of it, he did say that he'd been rather fond of that girl but lost her address when his wallet was stolen."

  Josie had still not reappeared, and Sal called for her. "Coming!"

  Neil whispered to her not to say anything for a moment. However, Josie got a question in first: "Sal, have you seen my cashmere scarf? I thought I'd left it here, but I can't find it anywhere."

  "Never mind that for a moment, Neil has an important question."

  "Oh? What's that?"

  "I wonder - do you mind my asking about your blood group?"

  "Not at all, it's B rhesus positive, but why?"

  Neil was satisfied. "That pretty well settles it."

  "Settles what?"

  Sal could no longer restrain herself: "Josie, you'll never believe it, but guess what's turned up."

  "Not my scarf, evidently."

  "Oh, to ... with your scarf. This is far more important. It's scarcely credible, but we've found your father!"

  "What? Neil, surely not?"

  "No, and just as well, or my wife would have something pretty sharp to say about it. It's my brother Dennis. Wait till I get home and tell him; he'll be tickled pink."

  "So will Bill when he comes in," said Sal, still bubbling over with excitement "But are you sure about how your brother will take it? Not all - er - mature gentlemen are pleased when youthful indiscretions come home to roost."

  "Don't worry, he'll be delighted. He and Molly have always wanted children but never managed it."

  "Dennis, maybe, but will Molly take that line, do you think?"

  "Oh, she wasn't around then. She knows there were a few wild oats scattered around before they met. Since then he's strictly honoured the 'forsaking all others' bit - I don't think he'd dare do otherwise - and she's satisfied with that."

  Sal hoped he was right but rather doubted it. However, that was someone else's worry. Hers was to prepare the lunch for which the visitors would obviously have to stay after Neil's bombshell, so she excused herself and bustled around the kitchen. Bill, returning, caught her at it and wondered what was going on. "You'll never guess."

  "No, of course I shan't unless you give me a clue."

  "Josie's here."

  "I know that. It's her car outside. Very nice to see her again, of course, but what's so special this time?"

  "It's who's with her. Of all people, her father's brother."

  "Don't talk nonsense, we've no idea who the father was."

  "We have now. Josie's taking around an acquaintance of Donald's who recognised his brother on that old photo of Yvonne's."

  "I dare say he did, but I seem to remember that getting a woman with child usually takes a bit more involvement than appearing in the same photograph. Just as well, too."

  Sal told him not to be silly, of course there was more to it than that; for a start he had the right blood group, one of the less common types.

  "That only means it's possible. You'd need a DNA test to establish paternity."

  "Well, maybe it will come to that, but there's an easier way. Send him a copy of the photograph and ask whether he'd bedded that girl."

  "Now why didn't you say that in the first place?"

  "Because I've only just thought of it myself."

  As it happened, the same thought had also occurred to Neil, who had taken what he hoped would turn out to be a tolerable reproduction with his own camera, not as good as a direct scan but with any luck sufficient for the purpose. After all, it didn't need to be a perfect reproduction for Dennis to see whether or not it matched his own print.

  It was fortunate that he and Josie had allowed more than sufficient time for this leg of the journey, as over lunch the Hamiltons naturally wanted to know everything he could tell them about Dennis and his family, and it stretched well into the afternoon. After they left, Josie commented that it would seem odd to start calling Neil "Uncle" rather than "Neil" or "Mr. Ainsworth".

  "Perhaps you'd better not for the time being. An old man travelling with a supposed niece would arouse very unworthy suspicions when we have to stay at the same hotel."

  "You're not old; mature, rather."

  "All the more grounds for suspicion, then!"

  That night, of course, she spent in her own apartment, but joined Neil for dinner and afterwards had coffee with him. "This reminds me of the time I had to beg a ride from Ashton with an Englishman who had inherited some real estate there and as a result had an errand on the other side of the Tetons."

  "I don't see the connection."

  "No, it's a rather involved story," and she told him of Forster's request to check the clearing by Jenny Lake.

  "Very strange. How did you come to be involved?"

  "Again rather curious. His instruction was to "see Jenny Lake," meaning a separate map of the place, but it had got crushed down into a corner of the envelope and he didn't spot it. Not knowing the area he mistook it for the name of a person, at the time I was using my maiden name which happens
to be Lake, and I was the only J. Lake known at the Post Office when he asked. Very luckily for me, as it turned out, and not just for the ride."

  "Go on, you've got me intrigued now."

  She explained how Mike had later come to her rescue when the tour bus had been wrecked in Woodstock, and that over Don's death, when Sal had been prevented from accompanying her to Vienna, he had been kindness itself.

  She suddenly looked very thoughtful, and Neil asked what was the matter. "That makes three times he's been there and willing when I needed him, and I've just realised something rather shameful."

  "What's that? If you don't mind telling me, of course."

  "No, I don't. It's just that looking back, I'm very much afraid that I've treated him rather shabbily. One way or another he's shown quite clearly that he's fond of me, more than just friendship, and without intending it I've probably led him on."

  "Oh?"

  "You see, those first two occasions were while Don was being held captive - you knew about that, I suppose?"

  "Yes, Chris Bradshaw told me."

  " - and all that time I never mentioned to Mike that I was already married - for some reason I've never been able to stand wearing a ring - or even gave him a hint of it. Not until Don returned. It must have been terrible to have his hopes dashed like that."

  "Assuming that he did actually cherish such hopes."

  "It slipped out once. Quite early on."

  "I see. Did you ever give him any encouragement?"

  "Not in so many words. But I was fond of him, in a way, and probably showed it. Just not in the way he wanted."

  "Hmm. You're free now, of course."

  "I don't want to be! What I want is Don back, as he was when I first knew him. And I can't have him."

  "No, you never will and never could. You wouldn't have him like that in any case. People always change over the years, relationships change, maybe better, maybe worse, maybe just as good but in a very different way."

  "You're the second person who's said that or something like it."

  "All the more reason for believing it. Tell me, how long had you been married when he was kidnapped?"

  "About eight months."

  "Scarcely out of the honeymoon. There'd have been enormous changes over the next few years, even if he'd stayed with you. Look, do you mind if I speak plainly?"

  "Please do. It may help."

  "Right. Do you mean to go on moping for him all your life?"

  "Phew! That's plain enough! It isn't how I'd put it, but I guess it's more or less how I feel."

  "Yes, I dare say that's quite usual for young widows, if the marriage has been reasonably successful. Plenty of them seem to get over it, in time."

  "It wasn't just yesterday, you know, when he died."

  "Of course not. But some people take longer than others to realise that it isn't treason to enjoy another relationship. Even a very intimate one."

  "That's how it seems to me."

  "I suspect you may be letting his terrible end influence you too much."

  "Maybe you're right there. But that isn't all. It doesn't seem fair to Mike, making him second best."

  "Now there I think you're rationalising, not reasoning. He wouldn't be second best, because you didn't know him when you married Don. And you were years older by the time you did. You'd both have developed quite a lot in those years and would see things rather differently. If you could put the two men side by side now, the comparison might surprise you. And even if it didn't, coming second is better than losing out altogether, isn't it? Think about it."

  "I shall."

  "And now I think we'd better say good night."

  "Yes. And even if I can't take it, thanks for your advice. There's one thing I do know ..."

  "What's that?"

  "I'm sure glad to have you as an uncle!"

  The next day, stopping at Jenny Lake, she was again reminded of Mike and told Neil of his looking for the burial place there. He thought it might be interesting to see the spot, but she had no clear memory of the directions and knew that even with them it could be difficult to find.

  "Do you know, something rather curious has just struck me about it."

  "What's that?"

  "Well, it's a story purely about Americans. Yet whenever I've talked about it, it's been to an Englishman."

  "And you're half English yourself, it seems."

  "Of course! It's something that just hadn't registered. I wonder if I ought to look further into that side of my ancestry."

  "Are you interested in genealogy?"

  "I haven't been, but then I never thought there was anything worth pursuing in mine. Being illegitimate knocks half of it out at a stroke, of course."

  "Yes, and then coming across an unknown parent must add a touch of spice to it. 'Now gods stand up for bastards!'"

  She was shocked: "What?"

  "It's a quotation from King Lear - suddenly came to me. Thoroughly inappropriate, of course; sorry."

  "No, don't worry. It wouldn't suit the PC brigade, but I rather like it - probably because of that."

  She mentioned the unconventional arrangement by which she occasionally escorted tours to England, and wondered if that might offer opportunities for chasing up records. "I doubt it. People who do go in for it seem to take months finding a single pertinent fact among all the chaff, at any rate when they dig back more than two or three generations."

  "Even getting that far might be interesting."

  "Maybe. But aren't you putting the cart before the horse? You haven't even met your father yet, and he should surely come before you go back any further. Perhaps he could give you a start. When's the next trip of that sort likely to be?"

  "Goodness knows. It's usually a last-minute arrangement when something's gone wrong."

  "Then I'm surprised you'd leave it to such a chance." She was reluctant to admit that the fare would be more than she could afford to pay herself, but in her hesitation Neil sensed the difficulty and suggested that if it was inconvenient to spend so much time away from her work, Dennis would probably want to visit her. Before leaving her for his flight, he promised to prod his brother in that direction.

  Back home he got the copy photograph printed and showed it to Joan, his wife, who agreed that the man next to Yvonne certainly looked like Dennis in his younger days, and that peculiar hat made it very unlikely that he was anyone else, but getting him to admit having slept with her might be difficult. "I'm not so sure as you seem to be about Molly's attitude. Yes, she wanted children, but hers and his not just his with someone else."

  "It was well before they were married, I think before they even met."

  "That may help, but I'm not sure it'd be all that much. We'd better go carefully."

  Neil would not argue with that. "I'll see if we can somehow arrange to meet him apart from her."

  However, when he called he was greeted with "What a coincidence! Molly was saying only the other day that it was too long since we got together. I should have rung you earlier; we'd like to hear about your trip to the States. Can you come for dinner next Thursday?"

  Neil was taken aback for a moment, but could think of no reasonable objection on the spur of the moment; his diary was clear that day and he agreed. In any case the duplicate photograph would itself be an interesting talking point even without any mention of its implications.

  The account of the tour was sufficiently covered during the meal itself, and Molly went to prepare coffee. Joan then guided the conversation towards old times. "Do you by any chance still have that photograph of a group posing in front of Sacré-Cœur, taken when you were in your early twenties ?"

  "No, it was lost or discarded years ago. Rather a pity, really. Why do you ask?"

  "Neil has a rather interesting tale about it."

  "Shouldn't we wait and let Molly hear it?"

  "It might be better not to, for the time being anyway. There are reasons."

&
nbsp; "Now you've really got me intrigued. Go on, Neil"

  "Well, it seems an incredible coincidence, but on my travels I came across what I thought might be another print of the same shot."

  "Extraordinary! Where was that?"

  "In a little town near Yellowstone. My guide has relatives there, it was on our route, so she asked if I'd mind calling in on our way. It seemed only sensible."

  "Obviously, I'd say."

  "Yes. They had a framed photograph that I thought looked familiar, and looking at it more closely I was convinced. I know it seems wildly improbable, and of course my recollection may be hopelessly inaccurate, but I'd very much like to see if I was right or not. I've brought along a copy; do you think you could tell from memory if it is in fact the same?"

  Dennis looked carefully at it and a slow grin spread across his face. Neil thought it decidedly lecherous, but that might have been his own imagination. "My word, those were good times."

  "So it is the same, then?"

  "Yes, definitely. You're right, what an extraordinary coincidence."

  Neil carefully primed his charge. "Can you by any chance remember the name of the girl next to you in the group? It looks as though she'd made quite an impression on you."

  "She did, but sadly, no. What were the relatives called?"

  "Hamilton."

  Dennis mulled it over for a few seconds. "No, sorry, that doesn't ring any bells."

  "No reason it should. Could the girl possibly have been Yvonne Lake?"

  "Yvonne Lake ... Yvonne Lake ... Yes! I do believe it was. My word, that takes me back. She was something really special, and no mistake."

  "Special enough to - er - economise on accommodation for the night?"

  "Well, yes, several nights as it happened, but for goodness' sake don't tell Molly that. Actually Yvonne took a hell of a lot of persuading; it wasn't her style at all, she was rather Puritanical if anything - still a virgin, in fact."

  "I didn't know you could be so persuasive."

  "I wasn't always the timid hen-pecked husband, you know. In those days I thought myself quite a Casanova. I've come down with a bump since then; it's rather depressing. But why all this interest in Yvonne?"

  "Just the small matter that the guide who took me round Yellowstone is her daughter. More to the point, she's evidently yours, too."

  This revelation left Dennis stunned, and Molly returning with the coffee wondered what had hit him. Dennis feebly waved at Neil to explain. "Well, that is a surprise," was all her comment, which Neil thought a colossal understatement in the circumstances, especially considering the casual tone in which it was uttered.

  "You seem to be taking it very calmly, Molly."

  "Well, from various snippets that have come my way from time to time, I've long suspected that there might have been some dark secret in Dennis's past."

  He was astonished; "You've never said anything about it."

  "Better to keep my ears open. Actually, after some of the lurid possibilities that occurred to me, a mere illegitimate daughter comes as rather an anticlimax. In fact the only thing that really annoys me about it is that I've always supposed it was Dennis who couldn't have children, and now it seems it wasn't."

  "Did you meet Yvonne herself?" Dennis wondered.

  "I gathered she died years ago." It would have been tactless to mention the cause.

  Molly was more interested to know what Josie herself was like.

  "I thought her charming. A credit to you, Dennis."

  "Probably more nurture than nature," Molly remarked a little sharply. "Is she married?" she added as an afterthought.

  "She was, but her husband was killed in an accident two or three years ago. I happened to be with him at the time, and that was the reason for my recent visits to the States - or rather, what we were discussing was the reason."

  "Any children?"

  "No." A pity, Molly thought. Even step-grandchildren would be better than none. But then, if the girl really was as attractive as Neil seemed to think ... "Neil, do you have a photograph of her?"

  "There should be one or two in the camera. I haven't got round to checking."

  "Well, will you let us have prints if there are?"

  "Of course."

  Then another thought struck her. "Dennis, we must invite her over," she commanded.

  "What? Oh, yes, my dear."

  Neil explained that there seemed to be some obstacle: "I'm not sure whether it's pressure of work, the cost of the fare or some other reason, but she didn't seem particularly eager to make such a visit."

  "She's probably worried about the reception she might get from a step-mother," Molly suggested, and Neil agreed perhaps a shade too readily that that might be true. She glared at him. "As for the fare, we can pay it, can't we, Dennis?"

  "I suppose so."

  "Don't sound so enthusiastic!"

  "Sorry, dear, I still can't get used to the idea."

  "Of booking a flight?"

  "No, don't be silly. Of having a daughter after all these years."

  Neil pointed out that it didn't have to be Josie making the journey; Dennis, with or without Molly, could visit her. "All very well for you, Neil. You get your fare paid, and I dare say it's business class. For us it would mean either spending a fortune or going all that way in a peculiarly fiendish form of torture."

  "Isn't it worth a fortune?" Molly demanded.

  "Well, if absolutely necessary, I suppose."

  "Come on, she's your daughter, not mine. I shouldn't be having to nag you into it." To put an end to this line of argument, Neil offered to tell Josie that she would be very welcome to come if the opportunity were to arise before her now more-than-putative father was in a position to visit her. That was how the matter rested.

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