‘Xander?’
I look up and see Amit’s face, in smooth innocence.
‘Do you never go home?’ I say, smiling.
He flushes momentarily at this and I remember that he has the librarian, Hazel, on standby to call him when I appear.
‘I prefer it here,’ he says, shrugging. ‘Anyway, I kind of come in to check on you. How did it go with the lawyers?’ His voice is low, not quite conspiratorial, but self-conscious – on my behalf.
‘Hard to say,’ I say, after thinking it through. ‘I’m afraid I need your help again, if it’s not too much trouble?’
He nods and without being asked, straightens his bag over his shoulder and makes a beeline for the computer terminals. I follow him in a way that makes me feel like a child. He sits, his face underlit by the glow of the screen. He tilts his head slightly.
‘I need to find a person. Not missing this time at least.’
‘Sure. Name?’
‘Ariel.’ I spell it out. He types it in and looks at me expectantly.
‘Surname?’ he says.
‘I don’t know it. But I thought since the name is quite unusual?’
He spins in his chair and gives me a deflated look. ‘It’s quite hard with a full name but with only the first name it’s impossible. Look,’ he says, pressing return, ‘262 million results.’
‘He’s a yoga teacher if that helps. Or he was, at any rate.’
He types in ‘yoga’ and sends the information into the machine. ‘Still 36 million. And if I put in London, it’s still 6.8 million.’
‘Well, you at least managed to narrow it down,’ I say.
He laughs for a second before becoming serious again.
‘I’m sorry. You really need a second name or a date of birth maybe.’
‘Thanks anyway,’ I say. I hesitate, not wanting to impose on his time longer than I have to. ‘You couldn’t do one more thing for me, could you? I promise it won’t take you long.’
He agrees and I tell him what I need. Within a minute he has given me the answer. ‘Thanks, Amit. I appreciate it.’
He gets up and shoulders his bag again. ‘No probs,’ he says, and then stops in his tracks. ‘Oh, just remembered.’
‘What?’ But he simply rummages in his bag.
After a moment he produces a book – the one I gave him. I am about to protest his returning it, but instead of handing it to me, he opens the covers and fishes out something from the pages.
‘Here,’ he says, ‘I found this.’ There’s a folded sheet of letter paper in his hand. ‘It was in the book. Thought you might want it back.’ He hands me the yin and yang patterned sheet. I open it and begin to read.
‘I’m sorry,’ he says sheepishly. ‘I read it. Wasn’t sure if you’d want it back.’
In a daze I walk to the door, expecting him to have followed me, but he has already sat himself down at a desk and started to arrange his books. I look across to say goodbye properly. And then as I stand on the threshold, half in, half out, I look down to read.
My heart is thumping.
Dear Xander
I do hope that you will take advantage of the house while I’m away. It’s going to be empty, after all, and I hate the idea of you being out in the cold.
Although you probably won’t believe me when I say that I still love you and that I always will, it’s true. In a way, we grew up together. I did so much of my growing with you, even if you didn’t. You always seemed to me to have arrived fully-formed into the world.
I skip the next few paragraphs because what is in them makes me so desperate that I can’t read them without feeling tears in my eyes.
And I wanted to thank you for the gift! Thank you so much, Xand. You know how much I love Jack and I know how much you hate him! So, I’ll treasure it all the more. When I play it, I’ll think of you. I want you to know that when I think of you, it’s always fondly, and when I think of you in the future, it will always be with love. I still remember you when I am in the museum garden. When I close my eyes, I can still see you sitting on our bench – you remember the one by the —
My eyes dart a little and I move to the end of the page.
If there’s anything that I can do to help you, please say. I’ll always be your friend. I hope you can be mine. I hope that I find you again one day soon when your demons are behind you.
One thing, and I know you’re not going to like hearing me say this, but one thing that A has taught me is that life is there to be lived. It’s a gift and we must never waste it. Money can be wasted – should be, even. But time is there to be spent and enjoyed. That’s why I’ve come to a decision about the money: I want you to keep it. Keep it. Buy yourself a place that you can feel safe in, and just heal. Do that one thing for me, if you do nothing else.
Your Mabel
I don’t remember this letter. Not really. It lights a flame somewhere in my mind. I must have read it at the time; after all, I kept it in my favourite book. I scour my head for some remembrance of this. Not long after that day in the café, the next day or the next week, she must have found me, and given me this letter. I must have kept it in the book, until frightened I would lose it, I put it with the other things I gave to Seb to look after.
I did read this letter. But only once or twice. It hurt – I’m sure of that.
And reading it back now makes sure about one other thing.
I have my appointment on Monday with the QC. This letter surely changes everything. Or it could. And all of a sudden, my gloom lifts slightly so that a future that I had settled in my head is given light and is changing into something new.
42
Friday
By the time that I get back to Seb’s, night has set in. I ring the doorbell and he opens it, looking harried.
‘Everything okay?’ he says, ushering me in.
‘Fine. Why?’ I say, following him.
‘You’ve been gone longer than I expected Nina would tolerate you,’ he says, walking into the living room. In the room I am conscious suddenly of my smell. He sits and when he beckons me into the matching cream chair, I hesitate.
‘Maybe I should go and have a bath,’ I say, and stutter in the doorway.
‘It’s okay, sit,’ he says, reading my discomfort. ‘I’ve got the good stuff open.’
There is a bottle of Macallan on a small ebony coffee table. That bottle. The one Dad liked. It’s there on the table, half-full. Two glasses keeping it steady.
‘So, what did she say?’ he says, and pours out two measures. His hand shakes a little as he offers me the glass.
‘What you said. She denied it.’
‘Knew she would,’ he says. ‘But you were there for a bit. Did she say anything interesting?’ The tone in his voice is one I haven’t heard before. He’s aiming for a nonchalance that he hasn’t quite managed.
‘Actually, I wasn’t there long. Didn’t even go in. But she did make me wonder about something.’
‘What’s that?’ He takes a sip, wincing a little.
‘Ariel. She thinks it might have been him who took the money.’
‘Ariel?’ he says, straightening in his chair. ‘The yoga guy? What makes her think that?’
‘Actually, I’m beginning to wonder if it was him, but it doesn’t really add up in my head.’
‘Why?’
‘That night. The night it happened. I was hiding behind the sofa when they came in. I couldn’t see much. But I’m sure I heard him say something about celebrating having the money.’