Tainted (10 page)

“OK. And I promised Katy we'd take her to the mini golf afterward.”

“Excellent.” He executed an imaginary putt. “Tiger Woods, watch out.”

When he'd gone, Holly sat down, pulled her daughter to her. “Katy, why did you run into Jack's arms like that? I've never seen you do that with anyone but me and Henry.”

“Jack's my friend.” She said it with pride. “He's almost like me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I forget sometimes he's not the same age as me. I forget he's a grown-up.”

“So you really do like having him around? You really are happy with him moving in with us?”

“Yes.”

“And you'd tell me if you weren't, right?”

“Yes. Jack doesn't like that man you went to school with. I could tell.”

“He doesn't really know him, Katy.”

“Do you like him?”

“Let's stop talking about him. What kind of ice cream are you going to have?”

Katy blinked, her brow furrowed.

“You know, Bones . . .”

Holly waited but Katy didn't continue.

“Of course I know Bones, chicken.”

“I
know
you know Bones, Mommy. I'm not stupid. I don't understand why Bones . . .” She stopped, and bit her bottom lip. “I want chocolate chip. With jimmies on top. Two scoops. Can we go now? Please?”

“Sure.”

“Race you two lazy girls to the car,” Jack called out from the house. “At the count of three, go. One . . . two . . . three . . .”

Katy took off like a rocket.

Holly waited a second, watching Katy's churning little legs run as fast as they could, her blonde hair flying behind her.

She's happy. I've never seen her this happy. If Billy ruins her happiness, I'll kill him.

“William, you're not making sense.” Henry sighed. “If you are intent on becoming a lawyer, you should attempt to be more coherent. I'm glad you've come to see me. Frankly, it saves me a trip to your house. But I have no idea what you want from me, or what, exactly, you're trying to prove with this verbal rampage. You don't approve of Holly's young man. I understand that much. But I fail to see how her choice of partner is your concern.”

Get a life,
he felt like saying. Once again, a teenage expression which was remarkably apt.

They were sitting opposite each other in Henry's living room, on either side of the fireplace. Henry had taken his pipe and his pouch of tobacco out but hadn't lit up yet. Ten minutes before, just after he'd finished his dinner, Billy had arrived at his front door, had asked politely if he could speak to him about the situation with Holly and Katy, had sat down with a serious expression—and then had proceeded to lambaste Jack Dane. Who was this guy? What right did he have to talk as if he owned Holly, as if he was Katy's father? Just because he had an English accent didn't mean he could be so superior, did it? On and on in such a wild manner, Henry wondered if he were on drugs. Until he finally interrupted him, addressing him as William on purpose, in an attempt to bring some formality into the proceedings.

“I'm sorry.” Having been on the edge of his chair, Billy now sat back, looking abashed. “Something about him makes me crazy.” He dragged his hands over his face. “I'm not usually like this. I'm usually calm. In fact, that's the whole problem. In all of this . . . in all of this . . . what I mean is, everything that's happened since Holly got pregnant. The way I've acted hasn't been me.”

“Who has it been, William?”

“OK,” he sighed, expelling a heavy sound of dismay. “Point taken. But haven't you ever done something you're ashamed of?”

“Sorry, but I don't think my behavior comes into this.”

“I know. Of course not. I'm only trying to say I'm ashamed of what I did. Of how I ran away. I'm not someone who would normally do that. And I want to make up for it. I want to make things right. The problem is that everything I do and everything I say only seems to dig me deeper into the hole I've made. Is it so wrong to want to see my daughter? To meet her, to talk to her, to have a relationship with her? I'm not saying I wasn't wrong—I was. And because I was wrong I missed five years of her life. So I have paid a price.”

“Katy and Holly have paid a price as well. A much heavier one.”

When Billy didn't respond, Henry placed the pipe in his mouth, took his time lighting it. The complexities of this situation were daunting, exhausting. Billy was right: he'd done things in his past which he was ashamed of; not on the same scale as Billy, but still. No one was an angel. Perhaps Billy did have rights. If so, what did that mean for Holly and Katy—and Jack, for that matter? The thought of Katy shuttling back and forth from Billy's house to Holly's was disturbing. Yes, many children did exactly that these days, but this was Katy, his Katy, who loved routines and rituals. What would it be like for her to be shunted back and forth, how would she feel about having a father appear out of the blue? Especially a father like Billy. Who might be intelligent but who was essentially a weak man.

“The point is, Henry, I thought I could at least have a decent conversation with Holly. We used to be friends. I wanted to sit down and discuss this with her. I really believe we could have figured out a way to work something out if we'd been given some time. But this guy. Jack. I mean, who is he? How long have they been together? What does he do?”

Henry lit his pipe, dragged on it and watched the puffs of smoke float in the air.

“I'll find out one way or another, Henry. It's a small town. You know that.”

“He's a good man.”

“And? What does he do?”

“He's a waiter. There's no shame in that.”

“Where does he work?”

“At that new restaurant. Figs.”

“Charlie's new place? I see. And now he's living in Holly's house. He's certainly fallen on his feet, hasn't he?”

“Your implication is unbecoming, William. And grossly unfair. I'd prefer to end this talk now.”

Sitting forward again, Billy eyeballed Henry, unblinking.

“The very first time I saw my daughter, she was running into the arms of another man. All I saw of her was her back, Henry. He deliberately threw her up in the air and held her to prove to me she was
his
, not mine. He was staking a claim. And he was provoking me, trying to start a fight. The Holly I knew wasn't someone who should be with a man like that.”

“The Holly you knew shouldn't have been abandoned by the man who made her pregnant.”

“There's no way, is there?” Leaning over, he put his hands on his knees, his head in his hands. When he raised his face, there were tears in his eyes. “I'm never going to be forgiven. Fine.” He stood up, wiped the tears away with his palms. “But I will tell you what I told Holly. I'm not going anywhere. I'm not going to slink away and make it easy for you. I don't trust that man. I don't want my daughter involved with him. Believe it or not, I care about Holly too. This is all wrong. She must have inherited a lot of money when her mother and father died. And now some good-looking English waiter has moved in. Whether it's unbecoming of me or not, I'm daring to say what you must be thinking.”

“That is so far from the truth—” Henry rose too “—that I won't even dignify it with a denial. Goodbye, William.”

“Goodbye.”

Billy stalked out, leaving Henry fuming. The gall, the arrogance of the boy. Did he think Holly couldn't possibly attract a good-looking man, that Jack was only in it for the money? It was convenient for Billy to believe Jack was a fortune-hunter; casting Jack as a villain put him in a better light. Pathetic. Damn pathetic.

Henry crossed to the sofa by the window where Bones lay sleeping. Sitting beside him, he rubbed the dog's head between the ears, in an attempt to calm himself down.

And there you have it, Bones, you old dog. Billy may have gone to the best schools and the best university, he may turn out to be an excellent lawyer, but I would prefer to be with Jack any day. Waiter or no waiter, whatever his background may be. Lucky Holly to be rid of Billy, is all I can say. We'll protect her, won't we? Let him try to interfere. Just let him try. I'm a tired old man right now. But I have fight left in me. And so do you, you old thing. Don't you?

Opening his eyes, Bones rolled over onto his back, his paws in the air.

All right, I'll rub your stomach. But only for a minute. Then I'm going to bed. And we can both dream of the days when we could run for miles.

The moonlight woke him, his eyes opening to a clear white stream of rays. He hadn't drawn the blinds in his bedroom; after brushing his teeth and washing his face, he'd been too tired to perform even that simple a task. Instead he'd flopped on the bed, on top of the blanket, and nodded off immediately. Now he was alert, awake, and checking the clock radio to see what time it was. Midnight. And the moon was full. He sat up, telling himself not to slouch. No one could see him, but posture counted, always. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he debated with himself, but only for a few seconds. It was a perfect time to go fishing. Age was no excuse, his creaking knees were no excuse. In the old days, he wouldn't have hesitated even this long. He'd already be getting dressed and ready.

Stop dawdling. Turn the light on and get moving. Now.

He obeyed his own orders, pulling on a pair of trousers and a long-sleeved shirt. No wind, so the mosquitoes were going to be biting; he'd cover himself with anti-bug spray too, but clothes were the best protection.

See if you can bite through cloth, you little bastards, go ahead and try.

He pulled on a pair of thick socks, slipped into his shoes, tied the laces and made his way downstairs.

“We're going fishing, Bones,” he called out, clapping his hands. “Wake up and get your ass in gear.”

Bones stuck his head out of the living room as Henry went to the back of the hall, to the closet where the guns he once used for hunting were locked up. He grabbed one of the rods leaning on the front of the closet, reached down and picked up the net from the top of the tackle box. On the way out of the door, he stopped, doubled back.

Shit for brains. A knife would be a good idea. Having a functioning memory would be a good idea too.

“Come on, you silly dog. I'll get the flashlight too and we'll be on our way. Probably won't need it with this moon, but we'll bring it anyway. Won't we? And don't look at me like that. I know you're a dog. But I'll talk to you when I damn well please. And don't pretend you don't understand exactly what I'm saying, you little fucker.”

He opened the porch screen door, letting Bones precede him outside, into the hot July night air. On nights like this, fishing at the beach was glorious. As exciting as fishing during the day was, it couldn't compare to the magic of the sight of fish jumping under the moon, or the satisfaction of the sound they made when they hit the water, that
thwack
magnified by the stillness of the ocean. No need to drive to the dock and go through all the palaver of getting the boat out, only a simple walk down to the beach with Bones at his side. He didn't care if he didn't catch a fish. All he wanted was to be out with them, watching them, casting into the dark.

They made their way across the lawn, and started down the path to the Back Beach. He didn't need the flashlight; the moon was bright enough to guide them. Henry was the only person of his age he knew not to have been in awe of the first manned moon landing. “When we get to an inhabited planet, I'll sit up,” he'd said to Isabella, as Neil Armstrong delivered his famous line. She'd shot him a withering look and told him to be quiet.

When he reached the bottom of the path, he stopped abruptly.

What the fuck?

There were people on the beach.

He put the tackle box down on the sand, grabbed the sheathed knife with his right hand and moved forward, trying not to make any sound.

And then he saw who the people were, and stopped again, shocked.

Katy was twenty yards to his left, at the water's edge. In her pajamas, her hands outstretched.

And Jack was ten feet away from her, throwing something.

Katy caught it. A tennis ball? She jumped up and down, threw it back, underhand. To Jack.

Henry placed his hand on top of Bones's head, making him sit.

What the hell is going on?

Jack tossed the ball back. Katy bobbled it slightly, fell to her knees in the sand, but hung on to it. She lifted the hand that held it into the air, waving it wildly. Henry could see her face bathed in moonlight, grinning, excited, proud, as she then got back up on her feet and prepared to throw it back.

“Katy.” He threw down the rod he was carrying in his left hand and strode toward her. “Katy.”

She turned, saw him.

“Henry! Wait! We're almost there. Wait!” With great concentration, she stood straight, drew her arm back and threw the ball to Jack, who had to dive into the sand to catch it.

“Yes! Twenty!” Katy cried out, jumping up and down and then skipping toward Henry. “We made twenty in a row!”

“Hello, Henry.” Jack was brushing the sand off his clothes, following behind her. “What are you doing down here? We didn't wake you, did we? We were very quiet.”

“No, you didn't wake me. But what in God's name is this all about? What are you doing here so late? Why is Katy up at this hour?”

“We were playing catch. Trying to reach twenty in a row without either of us dropping the ball—and we did it!” Katy did a little jig, then dropped down on her knees to hug Bones.

“And you're our witness,” Jack said. He came closer to Henry, tossing the tennis ball from hand to hand. “I heard Katy wake up and I didn't want her to disturb Holly's sleep, so I brought her down here for a game. Isn't the full moon amazing?”

“I'm not sure this is appropriate.”

“What?” Jack caught the ball, held it.

“I don't think it's a good idea to bring Katy out here so late at night.”

Katy leaped up like a little frog. “We weren't doing anything bad, I promise. We kept quiet. I was awake. I didn't want to wake up Mommy. It's like the day only later. Because of the full moon. We got up to twenty. If we practice enough we can get up to two million.”

“That's a tall order, princess.”

Jack laughed and the disquiet Henry felt subsided. Not the least perturbed by Henry's appearance on the beach, Jack seemed, on the contrary, to welcome him. And, more importantly, Katy wasn't acting at all oddly—in fact, she was clearly having fun. Still, he wasn't entirely sure he should condone this night-time game business.

“What if your mother woke up and you weren't at home?

She'd be so worried, Katy.”

Jack put a hand on Henry's shoulder.

“We haven't been here long and we were going to go back up soon. Besides, how often is there a moon like this? Katy should get to see it in its full glory. Isn't that what brought you down here?” He pointed up at the sky. “Were you going to take a moonlight swim?”

“I was going to fish.” Leaning over, he picked up his rod. “Down by the rocks.”

“Sounds wonderful. I'd like to join you. But I guess I'd better get this little one back to her bed, right?”

Henry nodded.

“Actually, I think I'll skip the fishing. I'll walk back to the house with you. Come on, Katy.” Henry held out his hand, conscious that he was feeling suddenly proprietorial. Up until this point, he'd been pleased by the closeness which was obviously developing apace between Jack and Katy, but now he thought that perhaps Jack had overstepped himself. While there had been something quite magical and lovely in the scene of the two playing catch in the moonlight, it was also odd. That's the only word he could think to describe it. Odd.