It feels a long time now since the Chief, Bernie and I left Munich. We went first to Geneva and then travelled on down the River Rhône on a barge. From Avignon we hitched west through Languedoc until one day, walking along the country road from Lodève, we caught a glimpse of the three towers of Château Lafourcade rising above the greenery of the valley. I’ll never forget how Bernie caught his breath as we walked along the sandy road to the estate, with a view down to the flowering meadow by the river. The sunlight filtered down through the leaves of the chestnut trees and was reflected in the clear waters of the millpond. Strangely enough, it looked almost exactly like the picture Bernie had over the kitchen table in his room in the Oswald Street house.
And then we met you, Madame. You were out for your morning walk. I didn’t know that Mrs Culduthel had already written to you from Inverness to tell you that you’d be getting 505a visit from the Chief and me, which is why I was taken aback when you held out your hand and said, “Sally Jones and Henry Koskela… Here you are at last! Have you had a good journey?”
Then you stared at Bernie and at last you said, “What in heaven’s name? It’s Bernie, isn’t it? Bernie Brodie!”
Five weeks have passed since then. Five good weeks. I have typed out my story and you have read it bit by bit.
The Chief has enjoyed it too, though he always gets a bit restless when he’s stuck ashore for too long. It was a lucky misfortune that the millpond sluice gates needed to be changed—that’s exactly the kind of job the Chief loves.
And Bernie has enjoyed working on the estate, too. Old Monsieur Aubert has been very kind and patient with him and although Bernie doesn’t know any French, Monsieur Aubert seems to have managed to teach him about the care and upkeep of grapevines. Yesterday I saw that Bernie was out working on the south field with the other men of the estate, while Monsieur Aubert was asleep in his rocking chair outside the gatehouse.
I’ll admit to being uneasy about telling you the truth about the death of Shetland Jack. What would you think of Bernie, I wondered? Would you hold him responsible for the death of your father? 506
That’s why I decided to write down the whole story from beginning to end. I wanted you to get to know Bernie as I’d got to know him—then you’d never take him for a murderer.
But during the past five weeks I’ve got to know you, too, Madame, and I know that I was worrying unnecessarily. Because you really do understand Bernie. You seem to have been fond of him even back in the days when Bernie, you and Moira were living in the Highland Orphanage.
A couple of evenings ago I saw you take Bernie out for a little walk after dinner. Earlier that day you had read my account of what Harvey Jenkins told us in Munich. I assumed you wanted to talk to Bernie about your father’s death.
Whatever it was you said to Bernie, I know that you didn’t blame him, because I’ve never ever seen him so happy and calm as he has been since then. I’ve no doubt the memories of Shetland Jack’s last moments will always trouble Bernie, but nothing like as painfully as they did before.
Now I can see Bernie waiting for me down on the forecourt. He’s carrying two fishing rods and a tin of worms. I’ll come back to this later.
It’s night and I’ve come up here to the turret room to write a few last lines on your Imperial. 507
The time for farewell is approaching. The Chief and I will set off on the road again in a few days and, as you already know, Bernie will not be coming with us. He told me yesterday when we were fishing down by the river. You have asked him whether he would like to stay here and work on the estate.
A couple of weeks ago I’d already begun to hope you would ask him to do that. And I’m so happy about it! At last Bernie will have a real home.
I should also tell you how grateful the Chief and I are for your willingness to pay for a new boiler for the Hudson Queen, even though the Chief turned down your offer initially. The Chief finds it difficult to accept gifts when he knows he can’t offer as much in return. That’s the way he is and there’s nothing to be done about it.
It was more than thoughtful on your part to give us one of the pearls from your necklace as a memento. If I know the Chief as well as I think I do, he will suggest that we have the pearl put on a chain and that we present it to our friend Ana Molina.
I can’t wait to meet her and Signor Fidardo again, though I shall find it hard to say goodbye to Bernie. And it will be sad to bid farewell to you, Madame. But I’m sure we’ll meet again one day and meanwhile I promise to write and tell you all about the renovation of the Hudson Queen.