‘You could have stayed. I mean, fifty years ago. When Luke did.’
‘I could. And maybe if I had, things would have been different. But, you see, I didn’t have Luke’s courage, Rick. I was afraid. I wanted to go back. I wanted the safety of the womb. The security of the family.’
Ricky could hear the bitterness in his grandfather’s voice.
‘So I went back to a life shaped by fear.’ He turned his head on the pillow, trying to see his grandson in the dark. ‘And that’s the biggest crime you can commit in life, Rick. To be afraid of living it. It’s the only one we’ve got, and you’ve got most of yours still ahead of you. So don’t waste it, son. Trust me. You don’t want to be looking back on it fifty years from now and wishing you’d done things differently. There’s nothing more corrosive than regret.’
A further silence settled between them, but neither of them was ready for sleep.
Ricky said, ‘What happened when you got home?’
‘It was a long five-hour train ride, Rick. Maybe the longest five hours of my life. I’m not sure there was a single word passed between any of us all the way up through England and back into Scotland. It was as if anything we said might be an acknowledgement that Jeff was gone, and that Luke was no longer among us. I think we felt, all of us, diminished. Like we’d lost limbs. It’s hard to explain.’
For the first time in many years Jack felt like a cigarette. A fleeting longing for the comfort that sucking smoke into your lungs can bring, the nicotine hit that both stimulates and calms. He had not felt any desire to smoke since giving up more than thirty years before, and was startled by the sudden and unexpected craving.
He said, ‘When Luke went off to buy the tickets and we divvied up our remaining cash to give him when he got back, I left the others to make a phone call. A reverse-charge call to my folks.’ He remembered the hushed sense of disbelief in his mother’s voice when he had said, It’s Jack, Mum. I’m coming home. ‘So my dad was waiting on the platform when the train got into Central Station. Platform One. It’s strange, because we never discussed this. But he must have called the other families. They were all there. Maurie’s dad, and Luke’s. And Jeff’s. Not Dave’s, though. My dad had to give Dave a lift home.’
Jack hesitated, remembering the moment as clearly as if it had been yesterday. His dad stepping forward to shake his hand. Well done, son. I’m glad you had the courage to come back. And Maurie’s dad shaking his son’s hand and saying almost the same thing. As if it had been discussed and rehearsed. And Luke’s dad and Jeff’s, standing there, puzzled, fearful. Lost.
‘We never did tell Jeff’s folks what happened to him. Just that he had stayed in London with Luke. Which was true in a way. And I suppose it was kinder to let them go on believing that their son was alive somewhere, making his way in the world. How could we have told them the truth? It was hard enough to carry it in our own hearts.’
Jack clenched his teeth hard and pressed his lips together to stop the emotion that welled up inside him from spilling over. That would have been embarrassing in front of his grandson.
‘The rest of my life you pretty much know all about.’
Another lengthy silence drifted in the dark before Ricky said, ‘So, if this actor, Simon Flet, didn’t kill Rachel’s boyfriend, who did?’
Jack closed his eyes and felt his stomach lurch at the thought that he had refused to even entertain since Maurie had told him that Flet was not the killer.
Rachel never had come home. And Maurie had always refused to say where she’d gone or what had happened to her.
He said, ‘I don’t know, Rick. Guess we’ll find out tomorrow.’
II
Early the next morning, Jack and Luke walked on Hampstead Heath with Luke’s black schnauzer, Odin, leaving the others at breakfast with Jan. Wild flowers grew among the long grasses in this gently undulating pasture, and Jack found it hard to believe that they were still in the heart of the city. Beyond the tops of the trees he could see chimneys and skyscrapers in the hazy distance of the cool, grey morning, but it felt like they were miles from anywhere. And a little of the sense of oppression that had descended on him since their arrival in London lifted like a weight off his chest. Suddenly it seemed easier to breathe.
A jogger, in clinging mauve Lycra, passed them on the half-gravel path that cut through the grass, an iPod Nano strapped to her arm, earphones firmly plugged in her ears to shut out the world. She almost certainly did not hear Odin’s playful bark or Luke’s call of rebuke, which brought the dog smartly to heel.
‘Did you ever contact your folks?’ Jack asked him.
Luke gazed thoughtfully into the distance. ‘Never did.’ He turned to Jack. ‘Was that cruel of me?’
Jack shrugged. ‘No more cruel than what they put you through, I guess.’
‘I often wonder how my life would have been if I’d gone back.’
Jack smiled, ‘Probably as often as I wonder how mine would have been if I had stayed.’
Luke was lost in a moment of reflective silence. ‘I sometimes think I should have got in touch. But I didn’t, and I don’t regret it. Regret is such a waste of energy. You can’t undo what’s been done. But every new day offers the chance to shape it in the way you want. And that’s how I’ve lived my life, Jack. Looking forward, not back.’ He paused. ‘Only thing I regret. Only thing I wish I could go back and change is what happened to Jeff. I’ve wondered so many times how different it might all have been if only we’d got up to the roof sixty seconds earlier.’ He looked at Jack again. ‘Do you ever think about those days?’
Jack nodded. ‘Often.’
‘Whatever any of us have or haven’t done since, Jack, those were the days of our lives. I don’t think I ever felt quite so alive.’ He smiled fondly. ‘Poor old Jobby Jeff...’ he chuckled, ‘as Dave would have called him. He missed out on so much.’
‘It’s different with me and Veronica,’ Jack said.
And they both laughed.
Odin cocked his head and looked at them, no doubt wondering what was signified by the strange quacking sounds that issued from their mouths.
When their laughter died and their smiles faded, Luke said, ‘Your grandson tells me he graduated with honours in maths and computer studies.’
‘The boy’s a bloody genius, Luke. Don’t know where he gets it from. Certainly not me. He’d give you a run for your money any day.’ He stooped to pick up a stick and throw it ahead of them for Odin to chase. ‘But he’s in danger of chucking it all away. I guess he’s self-conscious about his weight. Got no real confidence. Locks himself away playing computer games half the night and sleeping most of the day. And his parents are a dead bloody loss.’
Odin returned with the stick, and Jack threw it for him again.
‘Nightmare though it’s been, I think this trip might actually have been good for him. Although we’re both going to get it in the neck when we get home.’
They walked, then, in silence for a time.
Luke seemed lost in thought before he said, ‘My boys are just about to commission an IT developer to write software for a custom-made database and accounting system for the agency.’ He looked at Jack. ‘Is that something Ricky might be able to do?’
Jack smiled. ‘That’s good of you, Luke. And I appreciate it. But you run a professional business. You need a professional software developer.’
‘If he could do it, I’d rather the contract went to friends or family. And we have plenty of space in the house here. He’s a nice lad. I think Jan’s taken a fancy to him.’