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‘Audrey,’ he managed. Then his arms were around the woman he had mourned in silence for so long and he was pulling her towards him. Her head went onto his shoulder and he felt her body shake as she cried.
People were watching, curious about what was going on. But he didn’t care. It was a miracle. Audrey, his stepmother, was alive and the guilt he had carried for decades was sliding away.
‘Come with me.’
River’s hand was on his arm, and Clara’s on Audrey’s, and they were being led downstairs into the library.
‘We need this room,’ River said to Lettie, the red-haired woman who ran the village’s cultural centre. She’d volunteered to keep an eye on the ground-floor visitors. ‘Can you make sure that everyone stays out?’
Lettie cast a curious eye over Audrey before nodding. ‘Of course. That’s no problem.’
Still led by his son, Geoffrey walked into the centre of the library and Audrey, led by Clara, did the same.
When Clara went and closed the door, the hubbub of people outside faded away as Geoffrey and Audrey stood looking at each other. Reunited after almost a lifetime apart.
34
GEOFFREY
‘You’d better sit down here,’ River urged, grabbing Geoffrey and pushing him into his favourite seat by the window.
‘I’ll get you a drink,’ said Clara, taking the stopper out of the whisky decanter. ‘You’ve had a shock.’
That was putting it mildly, thought Geoffrey, watching his long-lost stepmother walk around the library, leaning heavily on her stick, as if reacquainting herself with the room.
She stopped in front of the photograph of herself and stared at it. An old face gazing at the young. A ghost studying an imprint of the past.
Geoffrey tried to catch his breath as past and present smashed into each other. His brain couldn’t take in that Audrey was here. He’d watched her walk into the sea. He’d banged on the window and screamed at her to stop. He’d seen his father and locals from the village search the cove in fishing boats and come back empty-handed.
‘Why don’t you sit here, Audrey?’ said River, dragging a chair closer to Geoffrey’s. ‘Then the two of you can talk.’
‘How do you know who she is? Did you know that Audrey was still alive?’ asked Geoffrey, taking the large glass of whisky that Clara was proffering. He noticed her exchange a glance with his son before River knelt down beside him.
‘Clara and I found out that Audrey had survived, but only a few days ago. Clara tracked her down and we went to see her.’
Geoffrey could hardly believe what he was hearing. First, Bartie had deceived him and now his own son was sneaking around behind his back. ‘You should have told me,’ he said gruffly.
‘I’m sorry but?—’
‘It’s my fault,’ Audrey interrupted, waving away the glass of whisky Clara was offering. ‘I made them promise not to tell you but now I can see that was wrong.’
‘Yes, it was.’ Geoffrey took a large swig of his whisky, its warmth offering some comfort as it slid past his throat. ‘But I still don’t understand.’
‘I came across Audrey’s diary from 1957,’ Clara blurted out. ‘It was in my grandmother’s belongings. That’s what she took from Audrey’s bedroom on the night she disappeared, not the diamond necklace.’
‘Why would she take a diary?’
‘The diary contained a coded message, sent to Audrey by my grandmother, which told her where my grandfather would be waiting offshore for her in his rowing boat.’
‘A boat, you say?’
Geoffrey took another large gulp of his drink as the pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place. So it had all been worked out between them. Audrey had planned to go and leave him behind.
He bit down hard on his lower lip, almost overwhelmed by the emotions boiling inside him. You’re not nine years old any more, he told himself. You mustn’t cry. Stiff upper lip. It’s the Brellasham Way.
But he felt like a child again, here in the library, watching the stepmother he loved walking away from him, into the cold sea.
‘Please don’t be cross with River and Clara,’ said Audrey, the soft lilt of her voice familiar even after all these years. ‘I’m sure they didn’t want to upset you by telling you the truth. And I made them promise not to tell.’
