KATE AND I WALKED away from the bridge, and each of us was lost in her own thoughts, and what hers were I couldn’t imagine. She had been right in what she said before she ripped up that photo and threw it into the river. I didn’t know her.
I looked sideways at her profile, her nose straight and fine, regal almost, her skin so pale that she appeared to have an inner light that spoke of a new certainty and self-possession. I wondered when she had stopped being my own darling Kate, when it was that I’d begun to move imperceptibly away from her. I think it must have been when we arrived at Samarkand and I could safely leave her in the care of Lil.
Though in truth, it was she who’d also been moving away from me. With her new-found friends and life in the city, her mobile phone and her new hair-style and confidence, she had grown up and away almost without me noticing.
‘I was planning to go away after Christmas,’ she said, with only a faint air of embarrassment. ‘To see Alex in Europe. I’ve been saving all year – it won’t cost much more than the fare because I’ll have somewhere to stay. You don’t mind, do you?’
‘Why should I mind?’
‘Well, I hadn’t told Lil or anyone yet, and now that she’s dead…I was planning to have Christmas with you all, you see. I still will.’
‘I wish I was as adventurous as you.’
‘Do you really? I always thought you were more adventurous. The way you just went ahead and had Hetty. I wouldn’t have been so brave. I think having a child must be the biggest adventure of all.’
‘I don’t know about brave…’
Then she said in a rush, as though afraid of not ever saying it, ‘She died, didn’t she?’
‘Yes.’
‘I always knew that. But when your father tells you she had to go away, you kind of believe it, don’t you? He seemed to have so much authority. And I was so young, I didn’t really understand what anything meant at all. And then later on, you described her leaving, in her red dress and all.’
‘I made it up. Poetic licence.’
‘Then tell me what really happened.’
We had reached the horse that lived in the school’s paddock, and stopped to pat it.
‘It’s a long story,’ I said. ‘I’ll write it for you,’ I said impulsively.
‘Do you promise?’
‘I promise. I’ll begin this summer.’
We reached Samarkand, which stood almost in darkness, except for my room, where Becky waited for me with Hetty. It was a huge dark pile of a house, so ancient and weathered it was a wonder that anyone could ever love it.
‘Do you think that was her with Alan in that photo?’ Kate said.
‘We’ll probably never know.’
Kate bowed her head and did not speak. Then, looking up at Samarkand towering above us, she said, ‘I love this place. It’s home. Let’s not ever sell it.’
‘Of course not.’ I reached out and straightened her collar. She smoothed the wild hair away from my face.
‘We’ll do,’ she said, with certainty.
She put out her hand and I took it, and we walked up the stairs that way, just as we had when we were children.