by Jen Silver
“Did you pay her to have me?”
“No. That would have been illegal,” Cheryl said calmly. “We did help her out with travel expenses and some other research-related costs.”
“And before you were born, she stayed here during holidays when she wasn’t at uni or out at sea,” Donna added.
Cheryl closed the oven door and stood. “Hi, sweetie.” She pulled her into a hug, and Tess let the parental warmth envelop her, as it always did. Whatever the circumstances of her birth, she had never lacked a loving home environment.
†
Awake long before the usual pre-dawn raucous chorus from the seagulls heralding the return of the night-fishing trawlers, Jay shifted around in her bed trying to get comfortable. She had been tired from the long drive from the city and the effects of the whisky, so sleep had come quickly. But it wasn’t going to return any time soon.
The day ahead would be filled with memories, not all of them good. But she felt better about it with Dougie being here. Although she could talk to Josh about his mother, he didn’t remember her. He was only eleven months old when the boat sank, changing both their lives irrevocably.
Finally, giving in to the fact she wasn’t going to get back to sleep, Jay got out of bed. She pulled on a T-shirt and sweatpants before leaving the bedroom in case she encountered Dougie on her way to the bathroom.
When she poked her head around the sitting-room door, her visitor was fast asleep on the sofa with Ritchie curled under one arm. If they’d stayed up talking and drinking, she could guess Josh wouldn’t be feeling too lively for a while yet, either. She wasn’t sure what Ritchie’s excuse was. Maybe he’d gorged on the last slice of pizza.
Jay added a sweatshirt and trainers to her outfit and slipped out through the conservatory. The hint of a red sky was making an appearance as she set off for her morning run down to the beach and back.
She lingered for a while, walking out to meet the receding waves, leaving a trail of prints in the glistening sand. More times than she could count in those first few years, she had stood in this same spot hoping for a miracle. But this wasn’t a Bond film. Her lost love wasn’t going to come wading out of the sea clad in a white bikini.
Looking after Josh had stopped her from taking her own life. At first she hadn’t thought she could cope with caring for a baby, but she wasn’t going to give up on the child. He was all she had left of Charley.
As the sky brightened in the east, casting its glow over the sea, she scanned the shoreline in both directions. No sign of any stranded, distressed seals. She would make a more diligent survey when the three of them came out later for their annual vigil, each silently remembering Charley.
The smell of freshly brewed coffee met her nostrils as she opened the door to the conservatory. Dougie was in the kitchen preparing their breakfast of toasted bagels with cream cheese and smoked salmon.
“Morning. Thought I’d get started. You don’t mind, do you?”
“Not at all.” Jay picked up one of the full glasses of orange juice on the table and drank it down. “I’ll have a quick shower, if the bathroom’s free.”
“The boy hasn’t stirred, so it’s all yours.”
Refreshed from her run and the shower, Jay felt ready to take on the day, the effects of her lack of sleep washed away.
“Where’s Ritchie?” She accepted the mug of coffee from Dougie and inhaled the life-enhancing aroma before taking a sip.
“By the fire. I let him out to do his business, but he didn’t stay out long.”
Jay sat down at the table. “Did you and Josh stay up much later?”
“Maybe an hour or so.” He handed her a plate with a toasted bagel on it.
They ate in silence. Something Jay had always appreciated about her brother’s lover. He didn’t feel the need to talk all the time. He managed to eat two bagels to her one. Leaving the breakfast things for Josh to use when he showed up, they took their second mugs of coffee in to the conservatory. Jay angled the vertical blinds to block out the full force of the sun now rising above the horizon.
“Are you sure you really want to do this?” Dougie asked.
“Today? Yes, of course.”
“No, I meant the wedding.”
Jay sighed. “What’s Josh been saying?”
“Just that you don’t seem too enthusiastic about it. He seems to have a soft spot for Amanda. Doesn’t want to see her get hurt.”
“God, the sooner he gets a steady girlfriend, the better.”
“Why?”
“So he can stop analysing my love life.”
“Do you think he will…?” Dougie hesitated.
She knew what he was thinking; they’d hashed it over a number of times. Jay finished the sentence. “Find someone who will accept him as he is?” She squeezed Dougie’s knee. “In time. Luckily he doesn’t seem anxious about it. He’s only twenty-four, after all.”
“People are married with three kids at that age.”
“We weren’t.”
“No, but….” Dougie stopped as Josh stepped through the doorway carrying a heaped plate and a mug of coffee.
“You two look guilty as hell. Talking about me?”
“Nothing bad.” Dougie smiled at him. “We were talking about the wedding plans. When will I get to see you dressed up?”
“Fitting’s next week. Right, Mum?” He took a big bite out of the bagel.
“Yes. Will you be back in town then, Dougie?”
“Probably the week after. I’ve got some meetings in London after I get back from other visits, Edinburgh and Brighton.”
†
A traditional Sunday lunch on Saturday. Tess’s parents had changed the day when they took up golf. The club’s competitions were on Sundays. She had never thought of either of them as particularly sporty, but they had taken to the game with great enthusiasm, which hadn’t wavered in ten years. Donna was even going to be Lady Captain at the club for the second time when the new season started up in April.
Tess let the conversation at the table drift over her. Alice was doing a good job of entertaining them with tales of her new job as a police community support officer. A failure on Tess’s part when she’d dented her initial excitement, telling Alice it was a step above traffic warden and that real police officers referred to the PCSOs as “plastics”. The uniform was pretty cool, though.
A kick on her shin brought her back to the present with Donna saying, “We’ll clear the table and bring coffee through.” Tess glared at Alice, then stood to collect plates and follow Parent Two into the kitchen.
“What’s up, love? Are you and Alice having problems?” Donna started rinsing the dishes for Tess to place in the dishwasher.
“No.”
“Well, what, then? You were miles away throughout the meal.”
Donna dried her hands and switched on the coffee maker. Tess knew that Cheryl would have set it up beforehand. Their routine never varied. She finished stacking the plates and stood.
“I went to Norfolk last weekend.”
“Yes, we missed you. Alice said you were working on a project.”
“You could say that. I met Jay Reid.” Tess didn’t miss the flicker of recognition in Donna’s eyes. “I thought it was time someone wrote a biography about England’s greatest female tennis player.”
“Oh, well, yes. I remember her. She retired from the game early, though, didn’t she?”
“Yeah.”
There was real fear in Donna’s face now. “Did she tell you why?”
“Not in so many words.”
Donna turned away to watch the dark liquid dripping into the coffee pot. “This is almost ready. Can you take the tray through?”
Something else Cheryl had prepared earlier. Her thirty-five years as a science teacher meant she always had her laboratory set up in advance of the lesson, on the domestic front as well as in the classroom.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“We never met Jay. Char told us when she s
tarted seeing her, but we were sworn to secrecy about their relationship. Jay had a reputation as a player, in more than one sense, so the media hadn’t caught on. Char stopped coming round about a year before the accident. It was her idea to tell you she was doing research in Antarctica. So, you see, there’s not much we could tell you. We weren’t surprised to hear Jay Reid stopped playing. I’m sure she knew about your existence, but she didn’t contact us. And we weren’t going to out Char posthumously.”
“Why would anyone care?”
“If you’d been born a few decades earlier you wouldn’t be asking that. The eighties and early nineties were a difficult time for homosexuals, gay men particularly.”
“Oh, you mean with AIDS. I’ve read about that but surely it didn’t affect lesbians in the same way.” Tess was stopped by the look on Donna’s face. “Shit. You mean Stewart Reid was gay. And he was my dad?”
Donna offered a mirthless smile. “The sperm donor, yes. Says something about nature versus nurture, doesn’t it? You didn’t stand a chance of not being gay. If you’d turned out to be heterosexual we would have wondered what we did wrong.”
Alice burst through the kitchen doorway. “Hey, we’re dying of caffeine deprivation out here. Is it ready?” Seemingly oblivious to the tension in the room, she grabbed the coffee pot. “Bring the tray, Tess.”
Numbed by the new revelation about her parentage, Tess picked up the tray and followed her out. Cheryl looked up as they entered the lounge. “Oh good. I thought maybe I’d forgotten to set up the coffee maker.”
†
Amanda couldn’t concentrate on the menu choices, but it didn’t matter. She always had the same thing. “Tuna melt on ciabatta. No fries.”
“I’ll have the avocado toast. With fries.” Lynne waited for the server to walk away before adding, “I don’t have a sleek wedding dress to fit into. My bridesmaid outfit has an elasticated waist.” She leant forward, elbows on the table. “So what’s eating you? It can’t be just because your fiancée has disappeared for the weekend. She does that on a regular basis.”
“No, it’s…well, maybe. I wish I knew where she goes. Do you think she has another woman somewhere?”
“It’s a bit late to be asking that. You’re getting married in less than three weeks.” Lynne leant back in her chair. “Anyway, I don’t get that vibe off Jay. She’s a straight arrow if you ask me.”
“Nothing straight about her.” Amanda smiled for the first time since they’d arrived at the café .
“Hey, I don’t want to know about your sex life. Well, maybe I do, since mine’s non-existent at the moment.”
A flush of desire shot through Amanda, as it always did when thoughts of sex with Jay came to mind. Her lover had more than made up for the way she’d left her on Tuesday morning with another night of passion on Thursday. Jay’s hot episodes were more frequent than her cold ones. When they were married, Amanda was looking forward to spending seven nights a week with her instead of the two or sometimes, blissfully, three they managed now. She tried hard not to be jealous of Josh. And it was ridiculous to feel any animosity toward a dog. But she often resented the time Jay spent with her son and Ritchie. That would change after the wedding.
“Earth to Amanda.” Lynne waved a hand in front of her face.
She sighed. “My dad’s arriving this week and wants to have dinner with us.”
“Oh wow. I would love to be a fly on the wall for that meeting.”
“I’m not sure it’s a good idea. But he insisted.”
“Don’t worry. I’m sure Jay has plenty of experience with dealing with men like him.”
“Sexist, homophobic, misogynist, Neanderthal….”
“That’s probably an insult to Neanderthals. They were more advanced intellectually than they’ve formerly been given credit for. Did you know—?”
“I’m sure it’s a fascinating topic, Professor. But I don’t need an anthropology lecture right now.”
Their food arrived, and for a few minutes silence reigned at the table.
“What about your mother?” Lynne took a sip of her mineral water. “Doesn’t she want to meet Jay before the wedding?”
“No. I’m inconveniencing her as it is. She had tickets for a Rossini opera in Venice. I’m sure she’s seen The Barber of Seville a dozen times, at least. I think she’s hoping for a French train strike so she can have an excuse for not coming.”
“Why don’t you two just go to a registry office? I mean, Jay doesn’t have any family. Apart from her son. So it could just be the four of us.”
Amanda took one of Lynne’s fries and stuck it in her mouth. “Because,” she said slowly after she’d swallowed, “I want it to be special. To mean something more than signatures on a piece of paper. Ideally I would have liked a church wedding. But Jay refused to consider it. She objects to the church’s stance on gays and women bishops.”
“I totally agree with her on that. But the ceremony at Dartmouth House will be pretty special.”
“Yes. Although it was my second choice. I would have liked One Canada Square at Canary Wharf. But it was already booked.”
“Probably would have been too big for the number of guests. The Mayfair venue is better suited to a small group. I’m sure you’ve got it sorted, but is there anything you need me to do ahead of time?”
“No. It’s all under control. Just be there for me on the day. I’m not sure I can rely on either of my parents to do that.”
“And I know you’ve got the honeymoon booked. Although I had thought you might be going somewhere more exotic like Hawaii or the Seychelles.”
“My first choice was Hawaii. But Jay said she couldn’t take more than a week off work. So it didn’t seem worth it to fly all that way and feel jet-lagged for most of the week. Anyway it’s still quite warm in Corsica this time of year. And I’ve never been there before.”
Lynne grinned at her. “Come on. You don’t go on a honeymoon to do sightseeing. You could have just booked a hotel here for all the amount of time you’ll spend out of the bedroom.”
Amanda felt the flush through her whole body. “Damn it, Lynne. I feel like a teenager in heat just thinking about it.”
“She’s really got you hooked, hasn’t she? I only met her once. I mean, I can see the attraction, but it didn’t go any deeper than that for me.”
“Good. Otherwise I’d be looking for another bridesmaid.”
†
After saying goodbye to Amanda outside the restaurant, Lynne continued her Saturday programme with her regular visit to the British Library. She stopped to gaze at the impressive sight of the King’s Library rising up through the middle of the building, a wonderful legacy from George III, the so-called “mad king”. Lynne subscribed to the view, along with many other scholars, that the poor man suffered from a mental illness that went untreated. Mad or not, he had left the nation a wonderful collection of books and pamphlets gathered from all corners of the world.
She settled down in the Reading Room with the archived document she’d requested online earlier in the week.
Although she had dismissed the idea of Jay Reid seeing someone else when she was with Amanda, the woman was hiding something. What were these mystery weekends about? Amanda was so besotted with Jay that she wasn’t thinking beyond their next sexual encounter. Her best friend was intelligent in many respects, but observation of human behaviour wasn’t one of her strong points.
Lynne, however, was an anthropologist. It was an occupational obsession with her, watching people, analysing the little details that made up everyday lives. Researching Jay’s tennis career had proven a dead end. And wasn’t relevant, Lynne surmised. So she’d started at the other end, with Jay’s current occupation. Amanda had only told her that Jay managed a physical-therapy clinic called CSC in Notting Hill. That was easy enough to find online. Only when she probed deeper did she find out what the acronym stood for. The name Charlotte Summersbridge hovered on the edge of her consciousness.
T
he disappearance of a marine-mammal research vessel, RV Caspian, somewhere in the North Sea was all but forgotten. No bodies had been retrieved. But, like the old king, Charlotte Summersbridge left a legacy. Her doctoral thesis was considered to be the definitive analysis of PDV in the European seal population.
Lynne opened the bound treatise in front of her. Phocine Distemper Virus. Charlotte’s observations and conclusions were based on the 1988 outbreak. As well as her scientific data, she’d also included extracts from media reports at the time which likened PDV to AIDS. Cause unknown. What made Charlotte’s paper readable was her obvious empathy with the subjects of her study. She cared deeply about the suffering of the seals.
As she walked home from the library, Lynne tried to come up with a reason ex-tennis player Jay Reid would have named her clinic after a marine biologist. There had to be a link and, she suspected, a very personal one. But as she’d already discovered, Charlotte Summersbridge had left virtually no digital footprint. Only an academic trail that consisted of published reports, her master’s degree dissertation, and the thesis Lynne had just read. No co-authors to track down.
She put the kettle on as soon as she got in. Her two cats, Slinky and Babs, greeted her with piteous cries. “I’ve only been gone five hours. You can’t be starving already.” Their matching expressions said otherwise, pleading looks that she couldn’t ignore. “All right. I saved some chicken from last night.”
With the cats eagerly devouring their snack, Lynne took her mug of tea into the sitting room and booted up her laptop. The Zoological Society’s website gave more current information about seals and the fact there had been another major PDV outbreak in 2002 leading to the deaths of over half the seal population in the North Sea region. Further searches led to the fact that volunteers were deployed around the coasts to check on stranded seals. Something else she learned: seals regularly “hauled-out” onto beaches to rest and digest food, where whales, dolphins, and porpoises didn’t “beach” themselves under normal circumstances.
