by Leo McNeir
One whole shelf contained books in German, lined up in alphabetical order. She read the names on the spines: von Brauchitsch, von Brentano, Carracciola, Eichendorff, Lang, Novalis, Rosemeyer, Seaman – Seaman? – Stück, Uhland. They meant nothing to her. She gasped, hoping that Donovan did not notice, when she saw the last volume of all. It was entitled Mein Kampf, and the author was … Adolf Hitler.
Anne had a sudden desire not to be on that boat and was thinking up an excuse involving an urgent appointment that she had forgotten, when Donovan said, in his usual soft voice, “I’m afraid I only have plates made of melamine and plastic glasses. Not of such good quality as you have on Sally Ann.”
Hearing him say Sally Ann like that made the atmosphere more friendly. But Anne still had the feeling she had been captured by the enemy and was being entertained by a courteous and civilised officer … before being handed over to the Gestapo for interrogation.
Donovan excused himself and walked towards the stern. She heard the sliding door of the bathroom, the running of the tap and the woomph as the water heater cut in. While he washed his hands, she moved towards the other shelves near the galley. There were the three Leica cameras she had seen on her first visit, one all black, two black and steel, all old, all shining like new. And there were the racing car photos, only one with the swastika on the headrest. The other two were signed, autographed in faded ink. She could not read the names.
Donovan emerged into the corridor by the bathroom, drying his hands on a grey towel.
“I’ve put out a fresh towel for you, Anne.”
When Anne returned from the bathroom, lunch was set out on the table, and Donovan poured apple juice. They began eating the stuffed pittas.
“These are very good.”
Chewing, Anne replied with a nod, realising that she would normally have smiled back. Since the handshake with Donovan she had not smiled once. Picking up the glass, she could feel her heart beating and wondered if Donovan could hear it.
“You said …” She cleared her throat. “You said it was obvious why I came on your boat that day, and obvious why you came over today.”
“Yes. I would’ve thought so.” He bit into his pitta.
“Why do you think I came on the boat?”
He looked at her while he chewed the sandwich. Anne wondered if he was going to reply, or whether he just liked playing games. She also wondered what he would do if she stood up and walked out.
“It’s not just about why you came on board,” he said eventually.
“What then?”
“You came in because you thought I was ill. It was an act of compassion. That’s why you left the glass of water. I’m right.”
“Yes. Were you ill?”
“I was exhausted. I’d been up all night.”
“Why?”
“You might say I had no choice, an obligation.”
“You make it sound as if you were obeying orders.”
A faint smile. “More a question of duty.”
“I thought you had a migraine.”
“I just needed to rest.”
“Then you disappeared.”
“Why was that, do you think?”
“Was that pretty obvious too?” said Anne. “Duty called again? More orders?”
“You’re trying to turn me into a man of mystery.” There was no accusation.
“You’re making a fair job of that yourself. And you’re the one who asked me to guess.”
“True. The reason for my disappearance was very mundane. My water tank was running low. I travelled up to the water point at the boatyard.”
“Oh.”
“End of mystery.” He drank.
“You also said it was obvious why you came over, but I’m not sure about that.”
“It is obvious. Very obvious. I came to see my guardian angel.”
*
They pulled out of the town centre, and Marnie pointed the Discovery southbound towards the motorway. Estelle sat with her briefcase on her lap, map-reading unnecessary on the home run. She looked at the clock on the dashboard.
“We’re bang on time. Do you always work like this, Marnie?”
“Like what?”
“All this precision. Everything running like clockwork, efficient. It’s awesome, really impressive.”
“That’s an exaggeration. I’ve got a business to run. I try to run it properly.”
“Huh! Don’t sell yourself short, Marnie. Most people think they’re doing well if they remember to phone in advance to apologise for being late. You and Anne are an unstoppable combination.”
“You reckon.”
“I do. It’s your attention to detail. That’s the secret of your success.”
Detail, Marnie thought. I’ve heard that somewhere before. She kept her concentration on the traffic, and was overtaking a string of lorries when her mobile rang. Estelle offered to field the call. It was Serena.
“Marnie’s driving just now. Can I pass on a message or get her to ring you back?”
“A message will do. Can you just say I could make it for this evening, if the invite is still open.”
Estelle quoted her verbatim. Marnie said it was great.
“That’s no problem,” said Estelle, adding, “Will that be two of you coming, you and your husband?”
“It’ll just be me this time. Rod’s meeting’s been cancelled, so he’ll baby-sit for me instead of the other way round.”
“That’s a pity. We were hoping to see both of you.”
“Too short notice for baby-sitters on a Friday. You’ll have to manage just with me,” Serena said brightly.
“Fine.”
*
When Marnie reached the office there was little time to speak about anything other than urgent phone messages before they had to begin preparations for the evening. Marnie had decided they would eat in the courtyard now that it had paving and tubs of plants and flowers. Estelle and Luther came over to help set out tables and put up lights. Ronny arrived in time to join in and wheeled the barbecue round from one of the other barns. A merry banter sprang up between the group as they worked harmoniously under Anne’s general supervision.
They draped one string of fairy lights across the front of the office barn. Another set hung along the façade of the farmhouse, while a third decorated the row of cottages. On the tables they placed lamps with small candles. All this took shape as Marnie moved purposefully about the kitchen in the barn.
When Anne switched the lights on for testing, everybody stopped what they were doing and stood staring around the courtyard. Even in the bright light of early evening, a festive atmosphere instantly descended on Glebe Farm.
“Marnie’s amazing,” said Luther, shaking his head. “Just look at this place. It’s transformed.”
Anne was standing beside him. “Yes. Everything she does turns to magic.”
“Why tonight?” Estelle asked. “Why not wait until Ralph gets back?”
“That’s the way Marnie is,” said Anne. “She likes doing things on the spur of the moment, just gets an idea and goes for it.”
Luther laughed. “I bet she could be a lot of fun!”
Estelle elbowed him in the ribs. He pretended to double up in pain. Ronny laughed.
“Sorry,” said Luther. “But you know what I mean.”
“All too clearly,” said Estelle grinning.
Marnie emerged from the barn and took in the scene. “That looks good. Right, we need a volunteer to man the barbecue – or person the barbecue, if you prefer.” No-one reacted. “Great. Luther, your offer is accepted.”
“In that case, I’m going to get out of these jeans,” he said. “That okay with you, Marnie?”
With a half-smile she turned to go back into the barn. “Sure. As long as you don’t frighten the horses.”
*
There was no risk that their music and chattering voices would disturb any neighbours. Jill and Alex Burton were already there, joined by Margaret Giles and Ro
bert her husband. Estelle introduced Luther, who waved from his position behind the barbecue, now wearing a singlet and cut-down faded denim shorts beneath his apron. George Stubbs and his wife Sheila had seemed to Anne surprising choices as guests, but Marnie wanted them to be included because of George’s offer to help with the summer scheme.
Marnie emerged from the office barn in her apron, followed by Anne and Ronny who were bearing trays of salads and dips.
Last to arrive was Serena, looking like a star at a film festival, stunning in cream trousers and top, with bare midriff and gold sling-backs. She had put on make-up and gold ear-rings that gave emphasis to her bone structure. George Stubbs nearly fell backwards over his chair in his rush to stand up and offer her the empty seat beside him, hastily muttering to his wife that he and Serena were the Jamaican contingent. Approaching the table, she glanced at Luther, whose muscles were glowing in the light from the illuminations and the grill, and did a double-take.
“I hope you’ve got something on under that apron!” She sparkled a brilliant white smile. “Or perhaps I don’t!”
Everyone laughed. Luther pretended to tease her by pulling it slightly to one side.
“What will you have to drink?” said Estelle, guiding her to the empty chair.
“Something non-alcoholic. I’m driving, mustn’t get carried away.”
“Very wise.”
“Are you all right there, Luther, or have you had enough?” Marnie called over.
Luther smiled suggestively.
“You’re very frisky this evening,” she said. “I only meant did you want to be relieved?”
Serena giggled over the top of her mineral water. “If she asks how long he can keep it up, I swear I’ll pass out.”
Marnie gave her an old-fashioned, guess-who’s-out-without-her-husband look. “Right. I’ll just go and inspect Luther’s meat, and I think we can begin.”
Serena almost choked trying not to squawk. Jill and Alex both tried to keep straight faces and sniggered. George leered but, remembering that his wife was sitting beside him, refocused on his drink. Anne and Ronny, eyes averted, laid out the bowls on the table.
Marnie smiled at everyone and invited them to make a start. “But before we dig in, there’s something I just wanted to say. For the carnivores among us, this evening we’re grilling Aberdeen Angus steaks, courtesy of George, and organic pork sausages, all from his own company. George and Sheila were of course invited as guests, but arrived laden with these goodies. So it’s thanks to you, George, that the supermarket produce that I bought is now residing in the freezer.”
The assembled company raised their glasses and cheered. “To George!”
Marnie took her seat and muttered to Anne that the veggie section of the grill was well clear of the rest. Anne mouthed thank you.
Clouds were gradually building up, though the evening remained warm, and the only effect of the cloud cover was to increase the impact of the lighting as twilight came down. The smell from the grilling wafted over the party, and everyone was more than ready to eat.
Luther turned all the meat on the barbecue and came to the table, depositing the apron on the ground by his chair. He found himself sitting opposite Serena who beamed at him and poured wine into his glass. In the moment of quiet when everyone turned their attention to their plate, Sheila Stubbs leaned forward and turned to speak to Serena.
“George tells me that you’re from Jamaica, too. Which part of the island do you call home?”
“I call Northamptonshire home, Mrs Stubbs. It’s the only home I’ve ever known, really.”
“Do call me Sheila.”
“Thank you. My grandfather comes from the Montego Bay area – in the north – and my parents grew up in Kingston. We moved to Britain when I was a baby.”
“So I lived there longer than you did,” said George. “You still have family in the West Indies, don’t you, Luther?”
“Some, mainly uncles and aunts, cousins. Though all my immediate family are over here.”
“You were telling us about them the other day,” said Ronny encouragingly. He turned to George. “Luther’s father played cricket for the West Indies.”
“Greville Curtiss,” Alex chimed in.
“You’re kidding!” said George, astonished. “The Greville Curtiss, the great fast bowler, record wickets in a test series? And you’re his son?”
“I’d blush if I could,” said Luther.
“The whole family’s brilliant at sport,” said Ronny.
“Perhaps Luther prefers grilling to being grilled,” said Marnie.
“It’s just …” Luther began. “I wouldn’t want to hog the conversation and bore everyone.”
“You could give the potted version,” Estelle said, resting a slim, pale hand on a muscular, dark shoulder. “Then we’d all leave you in peace, for a while.”
Even Marnie, who was not given to fantasising, found herself wondering what it would be like to have a lover such as Luther.
“Don’t you have a brother who did something in the Olympics?” said George.
“That’s Grover. He’s a swimmer. Did the Olympics twice, finalist once. Commonwealth games, too.”
“Who else?”
“There’s Wesley, the eldest, cricketer for Barbados, but full international at basketball. Then Cy, squash player, youth international. He does karate as a hobby, black belt. My sister Milly played tennis for Barbados. Now she’s married, got two kids and she’s a P.E. teacher. And then Grover, the Olympic swimmer. That’s it.”
“We mustn’t forget you,” said Serena.
That would be difficult, Marnie thought.
“He played cricket for Middlesex Colts,” Ronny interjected. “And football for Spurs.”
“Tottenham Hotspur, really?” said George.
Luther began to rise, looking over towards the barbecue. The meat was spitting and the coals flaring. “Only for the youth team.”
“Still, that’s an impressive background,” said George. “And a most distinguished family.”
Marnie rose to her feet. “You finish your first course, Luther. I’ll get the barbecue.”
“I was talking too much, I’m afraid.”
“I’ll do it, Marnie.” Ronny grabbed Luther’s apron and bounded over to the grill where he began turning over the steaks and sausages. “I think these are ready.”
As he spoke, a large flame spouted from the hot coals. Ronny jumped back amid good-natured laughter.
“Take care, Ronny,” Estelle called out. “Barbecues can be quite hazardous. They usually separate the men from the boys.”
More laughter, though Ronny briefly looked uncertain about which way the joke was running, either with him or on him. Splashes of hot fat had caught his forearms, and he rubbed them quickly before picking up a wooden platter to transfer the meat for bringing to the table. Anne decided she would go to help him and was putting her napkin on the table when she looked up and gasped. Marnie heard her and turned her head towards the barbecue.
In the half light, standing back from the barbecue and visible beyond Ronny, his face glowing as the sparks flared up, was Donovan Smith, Kapitän X himself. Realising that he had walked into the midst of a social gathering, he turned and was gone before any of the others had been aware of his presence. Marnie and Anne exchanged glances and, when they looked back towards the grill, it was as if Donovan had never been there.
*
“Say that name again, Marnie.” Ralph sounded intrigued. “Could you just repeat what you said.”
Marnie had been explaining on the phone about Anne’s latest encounter with the stranger and her visit to the odd-looking boat.
“Donovan. That’s what he said his name was … Donovan Smith. Do you think it sounds improbable?”
“What does he look like?”
“Tonight he looked a bit weird. Standing there by the barbecue, with the flames spouting, I had a kind of flashback to film I’ve seen of the big Nuremberg rally, faces lit up
by torchlight.”
“But presumably he wasn’t goose-stepping around the farmyard this evening.”
“Not quite. He must’ve come round the corner, seen we had guests and left. He only stood there for a second or two.”
“You were going to tell me what he looks like.”
“Not very tall for a man, perhaps about my height, or say five-eight, slightly built – same colouring as Anne, fair hair and skin – quite young, early twenties.”
“Good lord,” Ralph sounded distant. “I wonder …”
“You think you know him?” Marnie was startled.
“When you first told me about the stranger, I wasn’t particularly worried that he might be a far-right activist. What bothered me was that he might be a stalker.”
“Yes, I wondered about that. But if you’d seen the boat – and with everything else going on here just now – you can understand why I made a different connection.”
“You might have been right first time, Marnie.”
“Do you know him, Ralph?”
“I’ll need to think about it, but I may be able to fit a piece into the jigsaw. I need some time. I’ll have to dredge around in my memory.”
“But how would you know him – as a student?”
“It’s not him that I know, not directly. It’s possible that I knew his father. And through him, the boy’s grandfather.”
“A colleague of yours?”
“Oh, no. We were never colleagues. He was before my time. But if I’m right, well, let’s just say that your vision of the torchlight procession might not have been too far off target. That could well be your Nazi connection.”
16
Saturday morning and all was quiet at Glebe Farm. Too quiet. When Anne failed to appear for breakfast, Marnie hurried through the spinney to the office barn to investigate. Halfway through, she hesitated. What if she was late because Ronny had stayed over? She stopped to think about it. Had she seen Ronny go home? Marnie had left as the final clearing-up was in progress, because Anne had told her to return to Thyrsis for Ralph’s expected phone-call. Her last sight had been the two of them carrying a table to store in one of the barns. She did not want to breeze in to find Ronny scurrying down the loft ladder with his clothes hastily pulled on … or worse. This was a dilemma. Would Anne have invited Ronny to stay the night? Were they involved in that way? Did she, Marnie, have a right to an opinion on that subject anyway?
