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.On the living-room sideboard was a black-and-white photograph of Tanya’s mother, Irina.It showed an attractive young woman in a ’sixties floral dress.She’d been born in 1947 and the old woman invariably dismissed her as hopelessly irresponsible.She had left home and lived “with the hippies” in the late ’sixties before finally returning eight months’ pregnant with Tanya, whom she’d named Zelyna, meaning Star.She’d died within days of Tanya’s birth—of malnutrition, according to the old woman, who considered this more scandalous than anything else.There had never been any trace of Tanya’s father, while Tanya herself had officially been christened with a diminutive of her grandmother’s name.A Church of England ceremony, Tatiana told me proudly, as though nothing could have been more authoritative.I’ll admit that I found the comparisons and contrasts in our respective backgrounds part of Tanya’s allure.In the case of my own grandfather, who had died a decade before I was born, there was ample documentation of his life to the extent that my father had been able to write a memoir based on his wartime diaries that he’d acquired from my mother.Though I hadn’t read it, I knew that it had generated sufficient publicity to be published in a mass-market paperback edition under the title In the Eye of the Storm.It was this book that unhinged Rees.At the time I was much too concerned with establishing my own independence to acknowledge any of my father’s published work.But Tanya and I had family histories that mirrored one another, reinforcing my romantic conviction that we had been destined to meet.It never ceased to amaze me that she ended up marrying Geoff.Here he was now, hurrying back from the bridge over the lake: slimmed down, clean-shaven, respectably affluent in his tailored suit and polished black brogues.He righted the wheelchair, looking a little concerned.I’d been put on one of the park benches, Tanya swabbing my muddy palm.I must have fallen over, though I had no memory of it.Nearby a terrier was yapping at the geese.Tanya crouched next to me and said, “It’s all right, it’s all right,” while stroking my hand.Geoff looked a little anxious.It occurred to me that perhaps they thought I was making a noise, though of course this was absurd.And yet I was agitated.I’d seen something.Couldn’t think what.They hauled me back into the chair and wheeled me away.Everything started to haze over.I tried to shake myself back to full alertness because I didn’t want it to happen.All I could hear was footsteps, the sound of boots crunching on snow.THIRTEENOwain stood beside a park bench.Marisa was coming down the path, tugging on leads to restrain her husband’s wolfhounds.The park was their favourite meeting place, at once public and private because it was seldom used, especially in winter.Marisa unleashed the dogs, which went bounding off into the snow but stayed within sight.She hurried forward, approaching him open-armed so that he had no alternative but to embrace her.She drew back and regarded him before saying, “You look very elegant, Major Maredudd.”He was wearing dress uniform under his jacket, his tunic brass-buttoned and gold braided, scarlet piping on his trousers.“There’s a service in St Paul’s,” he told her.“I can’t stay long.”“Ah.A shame.But you came.”She tucked her arm through his and they wandered down the path.The still, icy air was filled with the thinnest of mists.All sounds were muffled.They moved through the bare white landscape like ghosts.Marisa was talking, telling him she hadn’t seen Carl for two days.Abruptly I was back with Tanya, being helped into the passenger seat of a small car.Tanya belted me in and folded the blanket across mp.I flipped again.“Slow down,” Marisa was telling Owain with gentle admonishment.“This is a stroll, not a march.”He relaxed his pace.One of the dogs loped up, a ragged tennis ball in its mouth.Owain levered it out and flung it away, both dogs bolting after it.“I have found out what you asked,” Marisa said.Owain stood poised, awaiting the dogs’ return.He didn’t say anything.“Your Maurice.His family name is Clarkson.He is the only one who fits your bill.”Owain eyed her.“And?”“He has been sent to North Africa.On New Year’s Day.”Tanya was pushing something into my mouth.A mint humbug that released its sweet vapours as I rolled it over with my tongue.“A six-month posting,” Marisa told him.She produced a slip of paper from the folds of her fur coat.The dogs bounded around him.Legister had christened them Scylla and Charybdis, though Marisa referred to them as Lili and Mimi.Owain hurled the stick into a tangled patch of brambles and ruins.The paper gave details of the posting, including the information that Maurice still had support staff security clearance but was being reassigned to Recuperative Duties.The whole family had been transferred to the Alliance headquarters in Tunis, where he would be put into the governor’s pool of drivers.“It was all I could find,” Marisa told him.“Perhaps you could send a letter?”Maurice’s old address in the Isle of Dogs was listed [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]