by Jen Silver
Now as she walked down the street towards the restaurant, she wondered if she really could ever truly let go.
†
Tess checked her watch under the table. No messages from either Donna or Alice. Her instructions were to keep Cheryl out of the way until everyone was in place. Alice had promised to be there, having taken her party clothes to work. Her shift had ended half an hour ago, so Tess thought she would be in time to take her place with the rest of the crowd waiting at the golf club.
“Bored with my company already, darling?” Cheryl finished her drink.
“No. I just thought Alice would be joining us.”
“Is she still enjoying the job?”
“Mostly. But she has been talking about applying to the real police force. Now she’s got a taste for it.”
“How do you feel about that?”
“Worried. She says she’ll feel safer. Wearing the proper gear and having backup. I can’t help thinking about the increase of shootings and stabbings everywhere.”
“Well, I guess you know you won’t be able to stop her if she has her heart set on it.”
“Yeah, I just wish she’d settled on a less dangerous career.”
“Nothing’s safe these days. I’m glad I finished teaching when I did.”
“Do you want another?” Tess waved her glass.
“No. I think I better pace myself.” Cheryl grinned. “How long before you take me to wherever this surprise party is?”
Tess rocked back in her seat. “How did you know?”
“After forty years, I know when my wife is keeping something from me. She’s been acting weird for weeks now.”
Tess laughed. “Fine. Donna’s going to text me to let me know when everyone’s there. Can you at least manage to act surprised?”
“No problem. Teaching is a lot like acting.”
Cheryl played her part to perfection, the look of shock giving way to delight, as she entered the room full of people shouting, “Surprise” and “Happy Birthday.” Watching her dancing with Donna afterwards, Tess felt a sudden rush of affection for the two women who had never wavered in their love for her. Even at her most difficult. She was embarrassed now when she looked back at her teenage self.
Running away at fourteen had been a particular low point. Tess wasn’t proud of the pain she’d caused them in the ten hours she was missing before the traffic cops picked her up at the side of the road where she’d been trying to hitchhike. The police officer’s bollocking had been harsher than anything her parents said to her. Their drawn tear-stained faces were the only reproach as they met her at the door and embraced her in a three-way hug.
Tess didn’t want to see that look again. But she knew she was pushing it with her obsession of finding out what she could about Charlotte Summersbridge. Perhaps there was nothing more to discover. Time to let it go and give all her attention to the real live women in her life.
“Are you going to dance with me, or do I have to wait until I’m sixty-five?” Alice stood in front of her, holding out her hand expectantly.
“Yes…and no.” Tess grasped it and let her girlfriend lead her to the dance floor.
Chapter Ten
Jay finished writing up the file on her last client of the day. It was only one o’clock, but she’d kept the afternoon clear to meet Josh at the tattoo parlour for the final inking. The weekend in London had left her feeling restless and out of sorts. She checked her appointments, wondering if she could manage to take off on Thursday afternoon.
The intercom buzzed just as she was putting her jacket on. One arm in a sleeve, she stabbed the button.
“Sorry, Jay. There’s two people here to see you. From the Danish embassy.”
“Okay. I’ll meet them in here.”
She had treated embassy staff before. The clinic’s proximity to the cluster of embassies in Kensington and Knightsbridge made it the first choice for anyone not wanting to travel far. Jay only hoped they weren’t going to upset her afternoon plans by asking her to fit someone important in for an appointment, like their ambassador or a visiting dignitary.
A man and a woman appeared in the hallway, casually dressed. She knew from previous dealings with Danes that this didn’t necessarily mean they weren’t on official business. They both produced ID badges on which the Danish flag was recognisable along with their photos and names…Hilde Pedersen and Olaf Jensen.
“You are Julie Ann Reid?” the woman asked.
“Yes. But please call me Jay.” She ushered them into the room. “Would you like something to drink? Tea or coffee?”
“No thank you.” Again, it was the woman who spoke.
They sat side by side on the couch, and Jay took the chair next to it. This was where she seated clients on their first consultation. Less formal than sitting behind a desk.
The woman took the lead once more, her English only slightly accented. “Please accept our apologies for not making an appointment. We require some information which is urgent.”
“Okay. Glad to help, if I can.” She couldn’t think what assistance she could give them that required urgent attention. If it were simply another embassy official needing treatment they would just have phoned ahead rather than turning up in person.
“We were directed here by one of our colleagues at the embassy. You see, we are trying to trace anyone who is related to Charlotte Summersbridge.”
A lump arose in Jay’s throat. She managed to croak out, “You’ve found her?”
The man spoke up for the first time. “The wreck of the research ship has been found. We are anxious to confirm the identities of the remains of the people who were onboard.”
“Remains?”
“I’m sorry. There are only bones left.” He looked to his partner for help.
“Skeletons,” she added, for unnecessary clarification.
Jay struggled to find her voice. “Where was the ship found?”
“Just off the Faroe Islands.”
“But…they weren’t going that far north, I’m sure. Charley told me they were covering the North Sea, well, near Denmark actually. Are you sure it’s the same ship?”
The two officials looked at each other, clearly uncomfortable. The woman spoke again. “They must have experienced bad weather to be blown off course. The photographs provided by the dive team show that the vessel was severely damaged. Not just wear and tear from having lain at the bottom of the sea for so long. And yes, the name on the hull is RV Caspian, registered in Bermuda.”
The man continued, “Our colleagues thought you must have some connection with Charlotte, as the clinic here is named after her. We haven’t been able to trace any relatives in order to match DNA with the bones that have been retrieved.”
“She didn’t know her parents. They abandoned her. But she does have a child.”
“Yes, she told us she gave birth to two children.”
In that split second, Jay had decided to give them Tess. She didn’t know if the hormones Josh took had skewed his DNA.
“You could try Tess Bailey-Roberts. Charley gave her up for adoption. She’s about thirty years old.”
“Do you have an address for her?”
“No. I do have her phone number, though.” Jay opened the Contacts list on her phone and read Tess’s number to them.
The man tapped it into his phone. “Does she live in London?”
“I’m not sure where, but she works in the city. So possibly not too far away.”
They stood up together, and Jay walked them to the door. “Will you let me know if there’s a match?” She couldn’t help the tears that threatened. “It’s been hard not knowing….”
The woman patted her arm. “Yes, of course. And thank you.”
Jay collapsed into the chair once the door closed and gave in to the tears now streaming down her face. Her mobile’s ringtone brought her back to the present. Josh’s image lit up the screen.
“Are you still coming?”
“Yes. Sorry, just a las
t-minute thing. I’m leaving now.”
†
After the visit from the Danes, Tess couldn’t concentrate on the article she was writing. The DNA swab had only taken a minute and they hadn’t given her much information during that time. Nothing new came up on a Google search of either Charlotte or the ship’s name. They’d been remarkably successful in keeping the discovery quiet. She tried Jay’s phone, but she wasn’t answering. When she called the clinic, the receptionist said Jay was gone for the day.
She googled the names of the two embassy officials, but both names were so common, there were thousands of hits for Olaf Jensen and Hilde Pedersen. Should she have checked their credentials more closely? Maybe it was some kind of cruel scam.
Tess shut down her computer, grabbed her coat, and left the office. No one stopped her. They would assume she had a lead for a story. She walked aimlessly for a while. Alice was working and wouldn’t be home until late that evening. Cheryl and Donna were away on a two-day golf break at a hotel somewhere in Derbyshire…a continuation of Cheryl’s birthday celebrations. But she needed to talk to someone. That someone had to be Jay. With a more purposeful stride, she changed direction and merged with the crowd of commuters and tourists heading for the Oxford Circus tube station. She could cope with the nose-to-armpit journey for the four stops before Notting Hill Gate. It was only a short walk to Jay’s house from there.
At the last moment, unable to bear the heat and the odours in the crowded carriage, Tess shoved her way out onto the platform at Queensway. She craved fresh air, as the lift to the street level was as crowded as the train, and walked across the road to Kensington Gardens.
†
Jay laid her head on the back of the sofa and closed her eyes. She felt Ritchie’s wet nose nudging her hand. He always knew when she was in need of comfort. Opening her eyes, she smiled down at him and stroked his upturned belly.
Josh placed a glass of red wine on the table in front of her and sat opposite holding a bottle of Peroni. “So are you going to tell me what’s up? You’ve been very quiet all afternoon.”
“I’m always quiet, aren’t I?”
“This is a different kind of quiet.”
“Okay, Sherlock.” Jay sat up and took a sip of wine. She put the glass carefully back on the table. Ritchie rolled over and made himself comfortable next to her as if he, too, were waiting for her confession. “Just before I left the clinic today, I was visited by two Danish embassy officials.” She recounted the reason for their visit, trying to keep her voice from shaking.
“Wow! That’s amazing. How did they find the ship after all this time?”
“I don’t know. They didn’t say. In fact, they were a bit cagey about the whole thing.”
“Maybe it was treasure hunters. Just happened to spot the wreck and thought there would be valuable stuff down there.”
The doorbell rang.
Josh put his beer down and stood. “Are you expecting anyone?”
“No.”
“Okay. I’ll see who it is.”
Ritchie jumped off the sofa and scampered after him down the stairs. A few minutes later, Jay heard two sets of feet plus Ritchie’s paws coming back up. When she saw the person who followed Josh into the room, somehow she wasn’t surprised.
“Tess. Would you like a glass of wine?” The girl looked weary.
“I’m on it.” Josh was already heading for the kitchen.
“I’m sorry I didn’t have a chance to warn you. I gather they were on the phone to you before they left the clinic.”
Josh returned with the drink for Tess. She’d seated herself in the other armchair.
“Thanks.” She took a large gulp. “I couldn’t settle to anything after they left. I’ve been walking around all afternoon and ended up sitting for a while in the Princess Diana Memorial Garden. I hope you don’t mind, but when I realised how close I was to here….”
“Not a problem.” Jay smiled at her. “I’ve only just filled Josh in about it.”
“They didn’t tell me much. Just took the swab and left.”
“I didn’t get much from them either.”
“There’s nothing on the Internet about finding the ship.”
“Well they did say they were keeping a lid on it until all the relatives had been contacted and they were able to establish the identities from the bones recovered.” Jay took a sip from her glass. “Hence the need for a DNA sample.”
“Finding the wreck after all this time. It’s unbelievable.”
Tess voiced the thought that had been in her mind for the last few hours. Jay closed her eyes again and tried to block out the images that had been haunting her since the visit from the Danes. Could Charley still be alive? She gave herself a mental shake. That just wasn’t possible. She would drive herself crazy if she started to believe that.
†
Amanda tried to relax as Lynne drove the hire car around another bend of the coast road. She closed her eyes to shut out the proximity of the cliff edge and the surging sea below.
Corsica was beautiful, and she was sure she would enjoy it once they reached their destination. She looked forward to sitting by the hotel pool with a cocktail in her hand. Perhaps then she could forget Jay should have been here.
It wasn’t fair to Lynne, who had been the perfect companion for the past week. How much longer would she put up with Amanda’s bouts of self-pity? She was going to try, really try, to enjoy this week. A whole six days of freedom before returning to the wreckage of her life in London.
“You can open your eyes now.”
The car came to a stop and Amanda stared out at a gorgeous vista, the sun throwing early evening rays across a calm expanse of water. “Lovely,” she murmured, releasing her seat belt.
“Let’s get checked in. I know I could do with a drink.”
As they walked up the marble steps to the hotel entrance, Amanda tapped Lynne’s arm. “Thank you for being here.”
Lynne stopped to take in the view again. “The pleasure is all mine. This is an amazing place.”
Amanda stopped herself in time from saying, Jay chose it. Jay was history. She wasn’t going to spoil this week either for herself or Lynne by mentioning her name again.
PART THREE
Chapter Eleven
I am Charlotte Summersbridge. This is my mantra now. I repeat the name over and over when I wake each morning as the memories surge forward with the force of an oncoming tide, wave after wave. I would like to be able to hold back the tide as in the story of King Canute, although he was in truth trying to demonstrate the opposite.
So much has changed, so much remains the same. Newspapers regurgitating the usual conflicts…with EU bureaucracy, another war zone in the Middle East, Russian spies killed on the streets. The main difference I see now is that everyone has a voice. These Internet sites…Facebook, Twitter, personal blogs, YouTube…some of it good, some bad.
I read every newspaper delivered to the embassy as I wait. Waiting for my life to resume. My Danish hosts are very gracious. Even though I feel I’m a great nuisance to them, they treat me well. Unlike that man hiding in the Ecuadorean embassy a few streets away, I can go out without fear of arrest. Although my hosts insist I have someone with me at all times. I am a stateless person until my “death” can be reversed.
How does it feel to come back from the dead? Hilde asks me this as we walk through Hyde Park. She is my minder most days. Walking along the once-familiar paths, I ponder this question. Each day I recover more memories from the past, recalling a Charlotte Summersbridge I once knew. As each one comes into focus, I’m overwhelmed with a tidal wave of emotions. Particularly when I remember Jay.
I want to see Jay. But I’m afraid. After twenty-three years, she will have moved on with her life. And Julie, our baby. She’s never known me and will now be a young woman. My other daughter, Tess, may have vague memories of me from her early childhood. But I have no right to intrude on her life. I left her in good hands with my former biol
ogy teacher and her partner.
But I want answers too. How did Jay cope with looking after a baby? She probably gave her up for adoption. Then she could have carried on with her tennis career. I know she said she would cut back on touring to be with the child and me, but I always felt I was holding her back from what she loved to do. I’m afraid to ask. I’ve deliberately not searched for Jay on the Internet even though I gather you can find out anything about anyone by just typing in a name. As long as they have a digital footprint. Another new expression I’ve learned.
I could ask Hilde about Jay. But I don’t. In answer to her question, I just say I’m still processing it. We reach Speaker’s Corner and turn around. One day soon, I may be able to face walking down Oxford Street. But right now I can’t handle being in a crowd. The legacy, I suppose, of living in a small fishing village all this time. My pseudo-life as Katrin Nielsen. Fished from the sea.
At my low points, I wish I had perished with the others. How did I survive? Their faces come to me in the night.
Before returning to the embassy, we stop at a coffee shop. It’s not very busy, and Hilde guides me to a corner table, knowing my need to feel secure, my back to the wall.
I look at my hands while Hilde fetches the coffee. No longer the hands of an academic. Weathered by more than age, years of gutting fish, harvesting vegetables. It was only in the last two years I had relief from these tasks with taking on the work of setting up the small library in the village.
I feel sick now when I think of all the whale meat I have eaten. Charlotte Summersbridge would never have consumed anything from a sea mammal.
“I do not wish to press you,” Hilde says after taking a tentative sip of her drink. A latte, she tells me. So many names for coffee are listed on the board behind the counter. I had asked for a black coffee. I heard her say americano, no milk, when she ordered. Her drink looks like it contains more milk than coffee.