by Annie Dalton
‘Fine,’ she said absently. ‘He’s really nice.’
‘And how long have you known Tallis?’ This was really an indirect way of asking, ‘And what do you know about him?’
‘About three weeks into my first term, I think.’ She frowned. ‘It seems such a long time ago now. Time seems to work differently at Oxford,’ she added with a laugh. ‘I fit ten million more things in a day than I’d have even imagined possible at home!’
‘Tallis is outrageous fun, isn’t he?’
I’m almost sure Isadora blushed as she said, ‘Yes.’ Then she let out a charming hoot of laughter. ‘It’s all nonsense, though, isn’t it? I pretend to take it seriously, but it’s just a game. I’m sure Tallis doesn’t really believe in it either.’
I was almost certain these weren’t Isadora’s real feelings. Perhaps she didn’t actually know what those were? She was playing it cool, pretending she could stop Tallis’s ‘game’ any time she wanted, but secretly loving the glamour and intrigue that he manages to generate wherever he goes.
‘It’s quite a thrilling game though,’ I said, thinking of my most recent assignment.
Isadora suddenly looked up at me with her solemn brown eyes. ‘I’ve never smoked before,’ she confessed. ‘Promise not to laugh if I have a choking fit?’
I lit her cigarette and she took a tiny suspicious puff but somehow managed not to cough. Squinting at me through the smoke, she said abruptly, ‘My parents know quite a few brilliant artists. Writers, painters, you know. However wonderful they are, they aren’t always very easy people to live with, are they?’
And that’s when I knew we’d become real friends.
20 May, 1966
I have a new and deeply troubling worry but I daren’t write about it here. If I actually saw the words written down I think I might completely fall apart. I have never felt so alone in all my life.
5 November, 1966
The London train is just pulling out of the station. It’s a raw lightless November day like that poem I once had to learn at school. ‘No sun – no moon! No morn – no noon – No dawn – no dusk – no proper time of day.’ A depressing sort of day to be beginning a thrilling new life with the man I love and yet, incredibly, that’s what I’m doing – and, oh, the utter RELIEF to be cutting my final ties with the old life! To be finished (after this one last assignment) with Tallis for good. Why did I ever let myself be drawn in to his web of never-ending lies? He’s a conman. He’s worse than a conman. He’s a monster.
I am so lucky that I found S. He’s the exact opposite of Tallis in every way. Simple goodness just shines out of him. All he wants is to make me happy and I am! He’s promised that he is going to make everything right and I truly believe him. I do.
I just wish I hadn’t done quite so many shameful things. At the time, or most of the time anyway, they didn’t seem so very shameful, but when I think about them now, I feel disgusted with myself, especially at the part I played in helping Tallis to control A. I’m quite scared at what Tallis might do to him. But I can’t think about that now. I’ve told Tallis it’s over. I’m making a clean break, a fresh start.
I can’t help feeling sad at leaving my friends. I behaved so badly to James. But how could I tell him that I only ever slept with him that one time because, in that moment, he was so deliciously and irresistibly lovely that I just had to take him to bed? Because to James, us going to bed with each other wasn’t just a moment, it was some huge declaration of eternal love. He looked so strange yesterday when I told him I was giving up on my degree and leaving Oxford and England for ever. I thought James had finally accepted that we could only ever be friends. But after I’d told him that I was going to America to make a new life with S., he went so quiet, so still, as if he’d pulled all his emotions deep inside where nobody could see. He looked like a badly treated dog that had lost its very last hope of kindness. I really hated and despised myself for putting that look on his face.
I feel almost as bad about Isadora. She’s the heart’s friend I always dreamed of having and I’ve so longed to take her into my confidence. There have been so many times when I’ve almost blurted out what happened to me over the summer. But each time, when it came to it, I simply couldn’t. Isadora’s still so young and we’ve led such different lives, and – this is going to sound terribly old-fashioned – she’s still so unspoiled. And I can’t help knowing how much she admires and looks up to me. I couldn’t bear to see the disappointment in her face when she found out the sordid truth. I wish I hadn’t made that big scene about Tallis last night. Isadora may be young but she’s not a fool. I should have just trusted her to extricate herself in her own good time.
I’m so grateful to S. for giving me the chance to leave all my mistakes behind me, to shed the old wild out-of-control Hetty and make a fresh start as his wife. Oh, my God, I’m going to be a wife! I’m going to be a proper grown-up wife!
TWELVE
It was eight thirty in the morning and Anna was unsuccessfully pretending to be still fast asleep. The reproachful sounds from Bonnie’s basket were so soft as to be nearly subliminal, but behind her closed eyelids, Anna could feel her White Shepherd’s brown-eyed stare boring into her brain. It was three days before Christmas. She was officially on holiday now and had been looking forward to a luxurious lie-in. Unfortunately Bonnie had a sixth sense that alerted her the moment her human made that invisible transition from sleeping to waking. Anna sat up, running her hands through sleep-dishevelled hair. Bonnie gave a tentative but distinctly hopeful wag of her tail. ‘OK, OK, you big bully,’ Anna said, yawning.
She gave a quick despairing look around her unfinished bedroom with the stack of still unpacked boxes that she’d only partially managed to hide behind a decorative wooden screen. ‘I’ll get around to it,’ she told Bonnie. ‘Maybe in the new year?’
Her mobile rang. Anna blearily peered at the screen and saw Jake’s name pop up.
‘Hi,’ she said. ‘What are you up to today?’
‘I was just about to ask you the same question!’ Jake sounded disgustingly wide awake. ‘I wondered if you’d like to go to a German market with me this afternoon?’
Anna yawned and stretched, still fuddled with sleep. ‘You want us to fly out to Germany? Today?’
Jake sounded amused. ‘We could do that if you want! But I was thinking more of the German market in Oxford. Seeing as I’m only up the road,’ he added.
She suddenly realized what he was telling her. ‘You’re in Oxford!’ Jake wasn’t supposed to arrive until Christmas Eve.
‘I got here late last night.’
After weeks of waiting, she was finally going to get to spend some time with him. She felt a familiar mix of elation and panic. ‘Where are you staying?’
‘It’s more like camping,’ Jake said. ‘At Mimi’s house,’ he explained just as she was picturing him shivering in a tent. ‘So will you go with me, or would it be too same-old, seeing as it’s practically on your doorstep?’
‘I’ve never been,’ Anna confessed. ‘It’s like taking tours of Oxford colleges. You only go if you have visitors, or little children,’ she added, remembering Kirsty describing her little boy’s surprised delight at seeing Broad Street transformed with brightly coloured stalls. ‘I’ll walk round the market with you for a while,’ she said, ‘but then I‘ve promised to go and see someone from work.’ Kirsty had invited Anna over to her new place to swap Christmas gifts.
‘Would you like to meet up with me later for dinner?’
‘Jake, I’m so sorry, I can’t.’ If it had been anything else she’d have cancelled in a nanosecond. But tonight’s supper with Isadora was not negotiable. She and Tansy had worked too hard to make it happen.
‘Hey, don’t apologize,’ Jake said. ‘You didn’t know I was going to be here.’
‘It’s just that Tansy and I have a dinner date with Isadora.’ Anna was doing some quick thinking. Isadora knew and liked Jake. Besides it might be a good thing to have him along
on this particular night. ‘Why don’t I ask if I could bring you? It’s not going to be anything fancy, just soup and bread, then Isadora’s going to tell us about her friend who got murdered in the sixties.’
After a pause, Jake said wryly, ‘You Oxford girls really know how to show a guy a good time. Will there be autopsy photos?’ He was referring to their first, somewhat surreal, dinner together at Isadora’s house.
She laughed. ‘I sincerely hope not! Seriously, don’t feel you have to come, but we’ve been trying to get her to talk about it ever since she got that anonymous letter.’
‘Isadora’s been getting anonymous letters?’
‘Just the one,’ said Anna. ‘I’ll fill you in when I see you.’
That afternoon, well-wrapped up against the cold, she took the bus into town. She’d arranged to meet Jake at the Martyrs Memorial, a useful, if not terribly cheerful, landmark for new visitors to the city. She arrived to find him already waiting at the bottom of the steps. Above the rooftops the last of the sunset was fading in colours of arctic green and rose. Midwinter afternoons in Oxford had always held a magical quality for Anna. The addition of smoky violet twilight and twinkling lights to this medieval city made her feel that anything was possible; a child could be born in a manger, a former marine just might one day come to see her as more than a friend.
She saw Jake’s eyes light up as he caught sight of her. He came forward to greet her, stooping to kiss her cheek. He smelled of soap and clean linen and some subtle and elusive scent that was just Jake. She felt the winter chill on his skin and on his leather jacket. ‘This city gets more beautiful every time I come,’ he said. ‘What time do you have to be at your friend’s?’
‘I said I’d be there around six, before she puts her little boy to bed.’ Kirsty had wanted Anna to meet Charlie. Anna was sure that Kirsty would be thrilled if Jake had tagged along, but didn’t feel up to the cross-examination that would inevitably follow.
‘Do they sell door wreaths at German markets?’ Anna asked as they set off walking.
Jake smiled. ‘You’ll be spoiled for choice,’ he promised.
Each time they spoke their warm breath made little puffs of white. By the time they’d reached Broad Street, Anna’s cheeks were tingling from the cold.
Against the backdrop of descending twilight, the Christmas market was a dazzle of fairy lights and festive colour. Somewhere a brass band was playing carols. They walked past stalls hung with handmade Christmas ornaments and giant gingerbread cookies iced with Christmas greetings. The air smelled of spice, sugar and chocolate.
Jake stopped at a stall selling glühwein. ‘Shall we get some to warm us up?’
She was surprised. ‘I thought you didn’t drink.’
‘I make an exception for glühwein,’ he said with a grin. Despite the cold, he wasn’t wearing a scarf. Maybe he didn’t own one? She could buy him a woollen scarf for Christmas; there was still time.
Warming their hands around their plastic beakers of spiced red wine, she and Jake walked from stall to stall, pausing to look at hand-carved nativity scenes and Christmas-themed tea-light holders. One stall was selling beautifully made wooden toys. Anna was tempted to buy a tiny wooden tractor for Charlie, then decided that a little boy who had mastered his mother’s iPad would probably be confused by any toy that didn’t emit electronic noises or flashing lights. Besides she already had a gift-wrapped present for Charlie in her bag.
Glancing up, she caught Jake looking at the Christmas lights suspended above their heads, the glittering angels, stars and those puzzling celestial umbrellas. ‘I know what you’re thinking,’ she said. ‘How come nobody ever told me there were flying umbrellas present at the Nativity?’
‘You’re right, I was thinking that!’ he said laughing. ‘Maybe you could tell me your more esoteric Christmas story some time?’
Among the stalls selling lebkuchen and traditional Christmas decorations, there was a scattering of Oxford tradespeople selling local crafts and produce. They stopped at one stall for Anna to try on some pretty felted wool hats until she suddenly became self-conscious. ‘I’m really not a hat person,’ she insisted.
‘I’d be inclined to disagree with you about that,’ he told her.
It was Anna who spotted the stand offering beautifully packaged gins from a local micro-distillery. She went over to investigate, thinking she might buy a bottle for Isadora. ‘I might buy a bottle myself,’ Jake said when he saw the dizzying array of gins on offer.
‘So you make an exception for glühwein and gin,’ Anna said. ‘Not to forget the occasional beer that you trained your dog to fetch you and your buddies from the fridge.’
He laughed. ‘I can’t put anything past you girl detectives! I’m not a drinking man’s drinker is all,’ he explained. ‘But I’ve hung out with enough British expats that I’ve learned to enjoy an occasional gin and tonic – and these gins look like works of art.’
‘Or magic potions,’ Anna suggested. She read out some of the ingredients. ‘Blackberries, heather, wild roses …’
The stallholder offered them thimble-sized samples to try but Jake said all he’d be able to taste was the glühwein. ‘I like the sound of this one though,’ he said hopefully. ‘Juniper, apple and elderflower with a subtle dash of citrus.’
‘Sorry, mate, I’ve just sold the last one of those,’ said the stallholder. ‘But we make and sell all these gins in the Hollybush just off Brasenose Lane.’
‘Thanks, man, I shall make sure to remember that the next time I come,’ Jake told him, smiling. His calm assumption that Anna and Oxford were now an accepted part of his life made her feel both happy and flustered. He suddenly grabbed hold of her hand, pulling her through the crowd. ‘Look, there are your wreaths!’
The stall smelled like a winter forest. Dressed in an embroidered dirndl under a warm woollen jacket, the stallholder looked as if she’d just arrived from the mountains of Bavaria. She patiently fetched down wreath after wreath for them to examine. Jake was right, Anna was spoiled for choice. Eventually she chose one for Kirsty’s door, and then Jake bought Anna’s second favourite for Anna’s house. ‘I could see you didn’t want to leave that one behind.’
Anna felt her breathing quicken as she realised that there was nowhere else she’d rather be. Usually her mind raced ahead or was helplessly sucked back into the past. But in this moment, she was just here – in the bitter cold, breathing in the pine forest smell of the wreath stall, returning Jake’s smile.
Then he said, ‘So, tell me, have you been back in touch with Tim?’ and she felt an almost physical jerk as all her old anxieties came swarming back again. She wanted to hold on to the magic of being in the moment but she could hear herself instantly becoming defensive.
‘Not yet. I have – reservations. It’s not that I think he’s going to sell me to the tabloids. I just have this feeling he’s not being quite straight with me.’
‘So you’re completely ignoring him and hoping it will all just go away?’
‘I’m guessing that doesn’t seem like a very sophisticated strategy to a military man?’ Anna was trying to keep her tone light.
Jake studied her face for a moment. ‘Would you rather talk about this another time?’
She’d rather not talk about it at all, but she just nodded, relieved to be let off the hook.
He glanced at his watch. ‘We’ve still got twenty minutes before you go see your friend. Let’s get a cup of coffee somewhere out of this cold and you can fill me in on what’s been happening to Isadora.’
Charlie was already in his pyjamas by the time Anna reached Kirsty’s. Kirsty had warned her that her little boy might be shy, but he immediately took Anna’s hand and led her to their Christmas tree, proudly pointing out the decorations he’d made at nursery. Anna waited until Kirsty’s little boy was absorbed in watching his favourite DVD, before surreptitiously handing over her present for him. After careful consultation with Kirsty, Anna had bought Charlie a tiny Captain Americ
a costume. ‘He’ll be thrilled,’ Kirsty said, keeping her voice low. ‘He is obsessed with the Marvelverse.’
‘And this is for you.’ Anna produced Kirsty’s wreath from its tissue wrappings.
‘Oh, my God, Anna, that’s so beautiful! I was longing for one of those but I’d already spent too much on Christmas.’
‘It’s not really a present,’ Anna said. ‘It’s just to mark your and Charlie’s first Christmas in your new home – which looks lovely by the way.’
‘It still feels like a miracle,’ Kirsty said. ‘We both love it here, don’t we, Charlie?’
Charlie briefly turned around from the TV. ‘And I made those paper chains with my mum,’ he told Anna, before plugging his thumb back into his mouth.
‘Can you stay and have a hot drink and a mince pie?’ Kirsty asked hopefully. ‘Paul’s coming over. I know he’d like to see you.’
