Touching the Wire

by Rebecca Bryn

  ‘Eternal what?’

  ‘That’s all it says.’ Adam reread the words. ‘I have sinned… that’s what peccavi means. Your grandfather must have been religious, surely, Charlotte… unless this cross means something else? No atonement too great. For what… sin? The truth shall be uncovered. Lies? No, deceit, silence… Who keeps silence consents, remember?’

  She rubbed her forehead, tiredly. ‘X marks the spot? Wouldn’t it have been easier just to tell us what this great and important truth is? Why does he feel guilty at keeping silent? We need something more, Adam.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘I don’t know… The first carving had a letter stating it must be returned to the solicitor in Northampton after ninety-nine years, and the instructions they had said the same about the other carvings. The museum at Duxford must have a letter too. It could tell us more.’

  ‘Other carvings?’

  ‘We believe five in all.’

  Adam was undeterred. ‘These words aren’t random. The way it’s set out… It’s a litany. Father Forgive…’

  Chapter Twenty

  Adam checked his watch. Why was Effie never on time? Her last-minute changes of plan always disrupted his life. He spotted her at last, dragging a suitcase on wheels. Gabrielle, a slighter version of her mother and weighed down with hand luggage, ran after her.

  He waved and hurried to help Gabrielle. ‘Hi, sweetheart.’ He took one of her bags. ‘Effie, why do you always cut it so fine? You should be checked in by now.’

  ‘Our flight doesn’t leave until nine.’

  Gabrielle hugged him. ‘Can’t you come too, Dad?’

  ‘I’d love to, but…’

  ‘Your father’s busy.’ Effie searched her handbag for passports.

  ‘Maybe I can come out for a weekend, later in the summer?’ If he could afford it. Paying the mortgage on Effie and Gabrielle’s home, as well as rent on his London broom-cupboard, left him short of cash, but he didn’t want Gabrielle to pick up on the fact. She asked for so little and he didn’t begrudge her the cost of a secure home.

  Gabrielle turned to her mother. ‘Can he, Mum?’

  Effie checked passports as if only now wondering if they were out of date, and looked up absently. ‘Yes, why not? Mama and Papa would like to see you. Sorry we had to leave earlier than I told you, Adam. Cousin Pierre is getting married.’

  ‘And you just happened to forget that?’

  ‘I mislaid the invitation. He rang to see why I hadn’t replied. It wasn’t worth coming home only to go out again in two weeks for the summer. I don’t like depriving you of time with Gabrielle, but…’ She shrugged in that way she had of putting all responsibility for her actions on another’s shoulders.

  ‘I’ll arrange a flight and let you know. I hope to have found a house near Duxford by the time you get back, so seeing Gabrielle won’t be a problem.’

  Effie was searching the boarding notices. ‘That’ll be nice. We’d better check in, Gabrielle.’

  He took out his wallet and pressed five twenty-pound notes into Gabrielle’s hand. ‘Enjoy yourself, sweetheart. I’ll see you soon.’

  Her smile made living on baked beans until payday worthwhile. ‘Thanks, Dad.’ She hugged him again.’ I’ll text every day until you book the flight.’

  Effie grabbed the bag from Adam’s hand and pushed it into her daughter’s. She gave him a brief kiss on each cheek. ‘Come on, Gabrielle.’

  They joined the queue. Gabrielle shrugged expressively and he smiled. He waved and watched them disappear among the crowds before turning away. Part of him went with them, but part remained. Seeing Effie and Gabrielle hadn’t shaken Charlotte’s face from his mind.

  It was too early to ring Roger. His credit card wasn’t quite maxed out, he had a full tank of petrol, and enough cash for coffee and breakfast in the airport cafe. He imagined eating it on the balcony of the apartment in Lyon where Effie’s parents lived, or at one of the pavement cafés in La Place des Terraux. A woman, looking for somewhere to sit, jogged him back to England. He pushed his plate and cup aside and vacated his seat. Outside, he rang Roger. ‘Are you at work?’

  ‘All day, Adam. How did you get on with the interview?’

  ‘I start in a couple of weeks if I haven’t ballsed it up already.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘It’s a long story. I’m coming into work. I have something to show you. I’ll tell you about it then.’

  ‘And how did you hit it off with the stunning blonde? I hope you thought of a good chat-up line.’

  ‘I think it went something like what the hell did I do to deserve bumping into you twice in my life?’

  ‘Twice?’

  ‘She’s the woman I accused of pick-pocketing. The hellcat who gave me this scratch on my cheek.’

  ‘And you’re still alive?’

  His blue toothbrush nestled against her pink one in her tooth-mug. He ached to protect her, and see her sad eyes smile. ‘Worse, Roger, much worse. I think I’m in love.’

  ***

  Roger was pouring over paperwork, when Adam placed the Duxford Wolf on the desk.

  ‘This was at Duxford? How did you convince the bods there to let you slice off the bottom?’ Roger arched his eyebrows when he hesitated a moment too long. ‘Don’t tell me they don’t know? Ye Gods, Adam. Give you one glimpse of a bit of skirt… How are you going to explain this?’

  ‘Charlotte says she has the right to take it away.’

  ‘And you believed her.’

  ‘I was hoping someone in restoration could tidy it up a bit.’

  ‘And you want me to ask them, since you don’t work here anymore.’

  He brought the other two carvings out of a bag and placed them either side of the wolf. ‘She’s lent me these two, by way of a sweetener. Three carvings to exhibit should mollify my boss. If I leave the Duxford one with you, can you tell them it’s urgent?’

  ‘I’ll do what I can.’

  ‘If I can return it in the next few days I may just get away with my arse intact.’

  Roger sighed. ‘Anything for the cause of true love, and the lovely Charlotte.’

  He took the hair, candles and pieces of paper from the carrier bag and spread them on the desk. ‘What do you make of them?’

  ‘Which phrases go with which carving?’

  He arranged the pieces of paper, each next to its own carving.

  ‘They don’t seem to have much relevance to each other.’ Roger picked up a slip of paper. ‘What does this mean?’

  ‘I am holding the wolf by the ears.’

  ‘And this?’

  ‘Who keeps silence consents.’

  ‘And peccavi?’

  ‘I have sinned.’

  ‘Haven’t we all. The truth shall be uncovered, and I pray for those I love.’ Roger’s brow creased. ‘Here, look… of civilization and humanity, fear bought my silence and love… That’s not a sentence anymore than There is no atonement too great, eternal...’ He rearranged the phrases and shrugged.

  ‘They don’t make sense whichever way you read them.’

  Roger picked up a carving. ‘These shapes… they’re too precise, too perfect.’ He put it down and picked up another. ‘And totally mismatched.’

  ‘There are five packages altogether, apparently. Maybe there’s another carving, or something, wherever this cross is located. The litany seems vaguely familiar.’

  Roger tapped his keyboard and a screen appeared. ‘Litanies… two hundred and six? Was the carver Catholic?’

  ‘Charlotte said he wasn’t religious. Try crosses… images. There look, Christian and heraldic.’

  Roger hovered over the image. ‘Rowan, pagan.’ He scrolled to a burning cross. ‘Flames are appropriate. Ah, Klu Klux Klan.’

  ‘I think we’re getting into the realms of fantasy. Try religious sculpture.’

  ‘Plenty for sale…’ Roger tapped in the first line of the litany. ‘Coventry cathedral… litany.’

  He peered over R
oger’s shoulder. ‘Following the bombing of the mediaeval cathedral in 1940, Provost Dick Howard had the words ‘Father Forgive’ inscribed on the wall behind the altar of the ruined building.’

  Roger clicked on images. An arched window silhouetted its latticework against blue sky; sunlight fell on a pink stone altar upon which stood a cross. Words were carved into the wall behind. Father Forgive. ‘The cross, made from burned roof timbers… the window, look. That’s it… It has to be.’

  Adam pointed. ‘It would have been a well-known Midlands landmark in the seventies. The new cathedral was only consecrated in 1962, look.’

  Roger clicked on a link. ‘The words are part of the Coventry Litany.’

  ‘And Coventry was blitzed… burnt. Hence the flames. It’s worth investigating. I can’t wait to ring Charlotte and tell her. Do you think this gives me an excuse to ask to see her again?’

  ‘Definitely…’ Roger laughed. ‘How can she resist your devilish smile?’

  ‘Effie found it totally resistible.’

  ‘Forget Effie.’

  ‘How can I? I’ve just seen her and Gabrielle off at Heathrow. They’ve gone to Lyon.’

  ‘For good?’

  ‘Just the summer.’

  ‘School hasn’t broken up yet, has it?’

  ‘You think Effie worries about inconveniences like that? I may spend a weekend with them in a couple of weeks. I get on well with Effie’s folks.’

  ‘So where does this leave you and Charlotte?’

  ‘I really like her, Roger.’

  ‘Then go for it, Adam. You have a professional interest in these carvings now.’

  ‘That’s true.’

  ‘Why not offer to go with her to Coventry? Two heads are better than one… What have you got to lose?’

  ***

  Adam picked up his phone. ‘Hi Charlotte, Adam here…’ He tried again. ‘No: “Hello Charlotte, this is Adam Bancroft… Miss Masters, Dr Bancroft calling.”.’ What he needed was one of Roger’s infamous chat-up lines. He rang her number before he changed his mind and without a clue what to say.

  ‘Yes, what?’

  ‘Oh God, I was hoping you’d be in a good mood.’ Damn, he’d really blown it now.

  ‘This is me in a good mood.’

  ‘Am I safe this end of the phone-line? I wouldn’t want to feel your claws again, Hellcat.’

  ‘Sorry, Adam. I didn’t mean to snap.’

  ‘I rang to tell you the cross your grandfather drew is at Coventry. The litany is that of the Cathedral.’

  ‘Oh, thanks.’

  So much for impressing her. ‘I thought you’d be excited. I thought we could go to Coventry.’

  ‘I am… Sorry, personal stuff… and I’ve just banged my head on that beam. Character has its downside.’

  A laugh escaped before he could prevent it. ‘Sorry. Can I do anything to help?’

  ‘If you have time, a trip to Coventry will take my mind off things for a day.’

  It would take his mind off Lyon, too. ‘We could go tomorrow? If I bring an air bed, can I sleep on your floor, tonight? My legs dangle over the end of your sofa.’

  ‘If you’re sure you don’t mind.’

  ‘I look forward to it, Hellcat. I’ll be there this afternoon, about four.’

  ***

  By the time the BMW roared along the lane, Charlotte had been into Lyndhurst with the laundry, done the food shopping, and been to the job centre: Robin’s therapy could take months and, even then, she wasn’t sure it was the answer. A temporary job would eke out her savings until she decided if she could go home; she couldn’t expect Roy to keep her job open or pass up on the Peters’ account.

  She applied fresh lipstick and brushed out her hair as she considered her future. Robin was trying his best. Shouldn’t she love him for who he was, not who she wished he could be? She pushed him to the back of her mind: today wasn’t about Robin.

  Adam strolled up the garden path, his motorcycle helmet tucked under his arm. She hurried to the open door and smiled in welcome. ‘Sorry I snapped. I’m glad you’ve come.’

  ‘I forgive you, Hellcat.’ Adam’s smile warmed his grey eyes. ‘It’s good to see you.’

  ‘I thought you were bringing an air bed?’

  ‘My stuff’s on my bike.’

  ‘There’s not much room…’ She was stating the obvious. ‘Put your things behind the sofa.’

  Adam handed her a bottle of red wine. ‘Peace offering.’

  She smiled. ‘I’m not always so spiky. Hard decisions…’ She dismissed the subject with a wave of her hand. ‘Shall we take it into the garden?’ She fetched two glasses and opened the back door. The garden was redolent with honeysuckle, lavender and roses, the scents heady with timeless promise. They sat at a table on a square of slabs next to the lawn. Her shoulders unknotted. She was sharing a glass of wine with a friend, nothing more. She leaned back in her chair. Adam opened the bottle and poured her a glass. Her fingers brushed his hand as she reached for it and something stirred inside her. She pulled her hand away: it was trembling. ‘I thought you were supposed to let it breathe.’ Robin would.

  His hand lingered briefly on the glass and the corners of his eyes crinkled. ‘Oh, I think it had a quick gasp.’

  She put her hands in her lap and forced a smile. ‘How did you find out about Coventry Cathedral?’

  ‘I went into work this morning for an opinion. Roger and I searched the net.’

  ‘I thought you were on holiday?’

  ‘I am, but this puzzle intrigues me. Besides…’

  She reached for her glass. ‘Besides what?’

  ‘I wanted to see you again.’

  She lowered her eyes to avoid the question his eyes asked. ‘I’m sorry, Adam.’

  He captured her hand and held it. ‘What for? I did attack you, and I was a bit rough. You took me by surprise. It was as if you thought I was going to murder you.’

  Actions have consequences. She withdrew her hand, his touch a gift she couldn’t accept. ‘I thought you were Robin, my husband.’

  ‘You’re married?’

  It was an innocent enough question. ‘We’re having a trial separation.’ She stopped herself adding, you? She’d caused Grandpa pain with an innocent question: she didn’t want to see that look in Adam’s eyes. If he wanted her to know, he’d tell her. And anyway…

  ‘You’re saying your husband does want to kill you?’

  ‘No, it’s just… he has a temper.’

  Adam’s cheek muscles tensed. ‘He hurts you?’

  Her fingers found the empty place on her ring finger and twisted the non-existent band. She stared into her wine as if the blood red liquid could colour her future with hope. ‘It’s not like that. He doesn’t mean… Robin’s complicated.’

  ‘You don’t have to put up with abuse. You’ve taken the most difficult step… taken control of your own life. Today’s the first day of the rest of your life.’

  She hadn’t looked on it as a step, difficult or otherwise, more an enforced, temporary state of existence. ‘A step to where, though?’ Divorce, or life with the husband she still loved?

  ‘Only you can decide where the rest of the journey takes you. Why don’t we drink to that?’ He raised his glass. ‘To the journey.’

  She blinked a tell-tale of moisture from her eye. ‘To the journey.’

  ***

  Charlotte woke to the sound of singing. Robin and Adam had chased through her dreams, leading her down dangerous roads. Adam would be gone soon, out of her life forever. He met her in the kitchen and moved aside to let her into the small space. The kettle puffed steam.

  ‘Tea or coffee?’

  ‘Tea, please. Toast or cereal?’

  ‘Breakfast is on the patio… well, not literally, I hope. On the patio table. Fruit juice, cereal, and the toast is…’ Toast popped from the ever-enthusiastic toaster. He caught it deftly, spun on his heel and dropped it with a flourish. ‘On the plate. Take it with you. The butter’
s out there. I’ll bring the tea.’

  Early morning sunshine promised a hot day. Chairs were placed to catch the sun’s warmth; roses and honeysuckle from the garden overflowed a jam jar and threatened to engulf the table. She swallowed a sudden lump. She couldn’t remember anyone doing something like this, just for her. She flipped open her mobile determinedly, and thumbed in Robin’s number. ‘Hi, Robin.’

  ‘You just caught me. I’m on my way to my second counselling session.’

  ‘How’s it going?’

  ‘It’s okay.’

  ‘And the anger management?’

  ‘Relaxation techniques… meditation… I don’t know.’

  ‘It’s early days.’

  ‘I miss you, Charlotte.’

  ‘It won’t be forever, Robin.’

  Adam arrived with a tray, a charity shop find. He placed the cup in front of her and passed her the milk, spilling some on the table. ‘Sorry.’

  Robin’s voice interrupted. ‘You’ve got someone there?’

  ‘A friend.’

  ‘A man?’

  ‘Dr Bancroft. He’s helping me look into Grandpa’s carvings.’

  ‘Look, I have to go, my appointment…’ His voice changed. ‘I’m only doing this for you, Charlotte. I’ll speak to you soon. You can tell me all about this Dr Bancroft.’

  Robin ended the call.

  Adam sat beside her. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.’

  ‘I was checking on Robin. Counselling seems to be helping.’ She smiled. ‘This is lovely, Adam.’

  ‘It’s a pleasure. A broom-cupboard can get claustrophobic.’ He surveyed her across the floral extravaganza, his expression like a puppy that needed re-homing. ‘I… I wish I could do this for you every morning.’

  ‘I’m married, Adam.’ She blinked away tears: Adam touched a need deep inside her.

  ‘No tears, Hellcat. Remember the journey. It’s down to you which path you take. Today is the second day of the rest of your life.’

  She wanted there to be a third. ‘You barely know me.’

  ‘You know nothing about me, either. We can change that. I have a teenage daughter, Gabrielle. She’s in France with her mother at the moment.’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘Your turn.’

  ‘You’re married too?’