The Way We Were (28 page)

To: Liv
From: Andy
Did you see the news last night about the fraud trial in Paris? There was a picture of a bronze that's just like one we had at home. Do you remember, I mentioned it ages ago after seeing the
Antiques Roadshow
but then I forgot all about it? Did you ask Mum where ours is? Cat remembered it from way back. It's called
The Child Merlin
. Apparently the one in the museum in America isn't the original but a copy. The old boy up for trial denies keeping the original in his private collection and nobody can trace it. I'm sure you'd recognize it. Odd, isn't it? Perhaps we've got a masterpiece hidden away. Ha ha! Cat thinks we should check it out. How's Cornwall?

Liv stared at the message, confused. She remembered that Andy had mentioned the little Merlin weeks back but clearly they'd both forgotten about it. As for the trial, she'd been too busy to watch the news or read the papers, and she resented the way Cat's name always cropped up in Andy's messages to her now. Dispirited, she returned to her sandwich.

Chris sat on after she'd gone; not seeing what was on his screen, thinking about Val. Her reaction when she'd discovered that she wasn't pregnant had been almost frightening; she'd been so certain that, to begin with, she'd refused to believe it. Ultimately, she'd had to accept it.

‘It doesn't matter, love,' he'd said – well, that was a bad start, of course.

‘It might not matter to you,' she'd cried angrily, almost weeping, ‘but it does to me.'

‘I didn't mean it like that.' He'd tried to put his arms round her, to comfort her, but she'd shrugged him off. ‘I meant that it's only the first try. It could take ages. Nobody gets pregnant first shot straight off the pill.'

She'd given him a withering look. ‘How would you know? Made a study of it, have you?'

He'd felt such a surge of antagonism that he'd had to take a tight grip on his temper.

‘I think it's a fairly well-known fact,' he'd said quietly. ‘Any-way, I see no reason to lose it just because you haven't got what you want immediately. Other people try for years.'

‘I'm not other people,' she'd answered flatly.

Now, Chris got up from his desk, stuck his hands in his pockets; it was an intolerable position to be in and he was finding the obligation to perform at regular times extremely off-putting. Val's grim determined face and her mechanical approach roused no ardour in him and when he'd said as much she'd been particularly vituperative.

It was affecting his relationship with Liv too. Sworn to secrecy by Val, he found that he was uneasy with Liv, as if he were in some way deceiving her. Now, he was pretty sure she'd guessed at the truth.

He looked round quickly as the door opened and she came in. She grinned at him, offering a piece of chocolate.

‘Honestly,' she said, ‘a quick lunch break and there's twenty-four unwanted emails and a message from Andy telling me that the family's had a priceless work of art stuck up on the shelf for the last however many years, like you do, and isn't it fun? Since Cat got at him his brain is more scrambled than usual.'

‘What?' Chris took the chocolate, grateful for her cheerfulness, his own spirits rising. It was so crucial to his wellbeing that he and Liv were friends. ‘What are you talking about?'

She shrugged. ‘Don't ask me. Ask Andy. Make some coffee, Chris. I think I'm losing the will to live.'

1977

The snow comes softly, gently; large flakes whirling slowly and settling only for a moment before melting on the boggy moorland. By teatime, as the temperature plummets, a light dusting transforms the stony tors and the roads are icy. The twins scream with excitement as they drive out from the village and Julia mentally reviews the shopping she's picked up from the Stores, wondering if she's forgotten anything, hoping she won't be caught out if they are to be snowed in for a few days.

‘Will we be able to build a snowman?' asks Andy, peering hopefully through the windscreen. It is his turn to sit in the front, a treat the twins share whenever Charlie and Zack are with them on the school run.

‘Not this afternoon,' says Julia firmly. ‘Maybe tomorrow. We'll see.'

Quite suddenly she is transported back in time: a year ago, almost to the day, Tiggy had arrived. On just such a day as this she'd driven down from Herefordshire in the camper, braving the elements, her one idea to protect her unborn child.

‘What's the matter, Mummy?' Liv asks anxiously, leaning between the front seats. ‘Don't you like the snow?'

‘I'm fine,' answers Julia quickly, pulling herself together. ‘Just being careful, that's all. It's getting a bit slippery and I shall be glad to be home.'

It is much later that the telephone rings; another naval wife, an acquaintance more than a friend, now living at Faslane in Smuggler's Way. Julia is rather surprised to hear from her but quite glad to have the evening's routine broken, to chat and exchange news.

‘It was seeing Pete that made me think of phoning,' the friend says at last. ‘I saw him leaving Martin and Angela this morning at breakfast time, in a taxi. Well,' a tiny laugh, ‘leaving
Angela
, to be accurate. Martin's at sea at the moment but I expect you knew that. Anyway, must dash. Keep in touch.'

Julia replaces the telephone receiver; she feels sick and her brain refuses to function properly. She moves slowly round the sitting-room, trailing her hand along the sofa's back, mechanically patting the cushions.

Words repeat themselves in her head: That's it then. That's it. I can't stand any more. That's it.

It seems important to keep moving; walking to and fro, putting more wood on the fire, going out into the kitchen to put the kettle on. The dogs follow her anxiously, puzzled by her restlessness. She makes coffee and stares at it: how can she swallow anything? As she pours it away she hears footsteps on the stairs and Liv appears in the sitting-room.

‘I had a bad dream,' she says fretfully. ‘It was a really horrid dream, Mummy. I dreamed you'd gone away and left us.'

Her small face is distraught and Julia goes to her swiftly, pulls her on to the sofa and cuddles her. The dogs crowd at their knees and Julia talks to them and to Liv, comforting and soothing them all. That night she breaks the rules and allows Liv to sleep with her in the big bed; she takes up most of the room, her limbs disposed at angles, warm and heavy with relaxation. Julia listens to her regular breathing and is grateful for her company; the child's presence is holding her together for the moment. Julia dozes and wakes again, her heart hot with resentment and fear, wondering how much longer she can carry the weight of her burden.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

2004

The telephone rang just as Julia came in from hanging out the washing.

‘Julia?' Aunt Em's voice was almost a whisper and Julia's stomach jolted. ‘Have you seen the newspaper this morning?'

‘No. I haven't been down to the village yet. Why?'

‘Have you read anything about this French art fraud trial or seen it on the news?'

A tiny silence. ‘Yes,' said Julia, casually. ‘Yes, I think I have. Why?'

‘There's a photograph today showing some of the pieces involved. One of them looks like your little Merlin … Julia? Are you there?'

‘Yes,' said Julia at last. ‘Yes, I'm here. What exactly are you saying, Aunt Em?'

‘This man, Stamper, used to sell valuable pieces to museums and art galleries. It seems that on several occasions, having made the transaction, he copied the piece and gave it to the unsuspecting curator, keeping the original hidden away in his own collection.'

‘But why?' asked Julia, puzzled. ‘I can't see the point of that if it has to be hidden.'

‘The point is, if you are a true collector you don't care about that. You simply have the original piece to gloat over. Like a miser with his hoard of gold. One of the faked pieces looks identical to your little Merlin.'

‘What?'

‘Julia, where did the little Merlin come from? It was Tiggy's, wasn't it?'

‘Yes,' said Julia reluctantly. ‘It was Tiggy's. But it can't be … this piece. You mean it's the original? How could it be?' A terrible sense of dread filled her. ‘Why should Tiggy have had it?'

‘I spoke to her about it once. She said her father had a gallery full of stuff like it and that her grandmother had given it to her when she came down to the west. Have you got the bronze there, Julia?'

‘Yes. No.' Julia stared vaguely round her. ‘I don't know.'

‘Listen carefully. This is important. When I saw the bronze it had a name carved on the side of the base in capital letters. Do you remember that?'

Julia shook her head. ‘No. No, I really can't remember much about it except that the children liked it. Oh God, Aunt Em, what are you actually telling me?'

‘I think that Tiggy was given the Merlin as a gift quite by chance. Neither she nor her grandmother had a clue about its value. My guess is that it was probably kept with other pieces well away from the public eye and that the owner had become almost complacent about its safety. Now this has all started up. Someone discovered that a piece that Stamper sold to the New York Arts Museum was a fake and now they are investigating him thoroughly. The Merlin is just one of several. Tristan Stamper is saying that he had no idea that
The Child Merlin
was a fake and denies ever having any other copy of it in his possession. Who is Tristan Stamper, Julia?'

‘He's Tiggy's father,' whispered Julia. ‘Oh God, Aunt Em. I'd seen the trial in the paper but I was too frightened that someone might connect him to Zack to think about anything else.'

‘Is there any chance that a connection to Tiggy might be found? Didn't you tell me once that her father cast her off when she was still at school?'

‘That's right. All he did was pay the fees and she spent the holidays with us or with her granny. After she'd left school she never heard from him. He completely abandoned her, though that was her wish too, and once she knew she was having a baby she made me promise that nobody would know that he existed. He … he molested her, Aunt Em, and she didn't want him to have anything to do with her baby. She made me absolutely promise. What else could I do? I've often felt guilty that we've lied to Zack but how could anyone break such a promise? Pete agreed with me that we must honour Tiggy's wishes, though we've been terrified that Zack might decide to try to find his relations, but luckily he's never seemed the least bit interested. When her granny died Tiggy changed her name to Tom's and as far as I was concerned, that was that. Of course, I never gave the Merlin a thought. I don't even know where it is.'

‘You must find it. Hide it. I'll come over later.'

Julia put down the phone: her knees were trembling and her limbs were weighty. She sat down suddenly. This was the connection she'd missed in her anxiety for Zack: the little Merlin.

Em stood thinking; she took deep breaths to steady the uneven beating of her heart: she felt dizzy and sick. There was nobody except themselves, she told herself, to connect the Merlin to Zack. It was impossible to contemplate that now, just as he was about to become a father, this should ruin his life. She imagined the press coverage, the scandal: it mustn't be allowed to happen. The bronze must be got rid of somehow. Em wondered if, during the investigation, the police – or some zealous reporter – might dig deeper and discover a daughter from an earlier marriage. It was fortunate that Tiggy's father had cut her off so thoroughly and removed himself to France nearly forty years ago: the trail leading to Tiggy was a very cold one. And, after all,
The Child Merlin
wasn't a particularly important piece, apparently, not even of great value; but the fact that it had been copied made it notorious. Now Em remembered the name carved on the base of the little statue: Vischer. Many years ago, before the war, she'd seen Peter Vischer's statue of King Arthur in the court church at Innsbruck, and his
Madonna of Nuremberg
.

How odd that the scent of the
luteum
had recalled the little scene with Tiggy and the Merlin: and now this. Yet if the Merlin was not at Trescairn, where could it be? On cue, the telephone rang.

‘I think Zack must have the Merlin,' Julia said. ‘I gave him to Zack, Aunt Em, when he was little. It seemed appropriate. After all, it was Tiggy's to begin with and I thought it was right that Zack should have him. He used to keep it with his toys and play with it sometimes. I never guessed that it was anything particularly special. Oh, I know it was very charming and all that but it didn't
look
valuable. Not as if it had been silver or gold or anything.'

‘I think you have to be a bit of a specialist to appreciate bronze,' said Em. ‘So Zack has the Merlin.'

‘Oh God, I hope so.' Julia's voice trembled. ‘I haven't seen it for years. He must have taken it with all his stuff when he got married. My fear is that they've stuck it up on a shelf where any of their friends might go in and see it. And recognize it, now it's all over the papers and the television news. I've decided to go to look for myself. I can't see any alternative. I keep thinking how Zack would react if it were to become public. Imagine the shock of knowing we've lied to him all these years, apart from discovering what kind of man his grandfather is. It doesn't bear thinking about. Oh God, Aunt Em, I must get hold of it if I can and smuggle it away. Don't you think so?'