Sam Chadwick walks through the lanes, away from The Keep towards the bus stop at Shinners Bridge. When Hal and Fliss heard of his plan to visit his godfather in Salcombe there was the usual discussion about how he should get there. He’s decided not to take his own car this time, nor to accept Hal’s offer of a lift, but to catch the bus. As he strides along, shouldering his backpack, he considers his motives for visiting Salcombe. Since finishing uni he’s been battling a sense of confusion and a real anxiety about his future. Once, way back when he was little, a small friend said to him: ‘You’re an orphan.’ Even now he can recall his sense of surprise. After all, he had Hal and Fliss, and, most importantly, Lizzie. When he came to live at The Keep he was three years old and Lizzie was the closest, dearest person in his life. His father was dead – he’d died a few months before Sam was born – and if he’s completely honest with himself he can’t really remember his mother. He knows that in his early years Lizzie helped his mum to bring him up and that it was Lizzie who decided that he should come to his nearest relations at The Keep after his mother died. In the years that followed, Lizzie almost replaced her, almost became his mother. Of course, there was Fliss, his dad’s older sister, and Hal, and they were very happy to welcome Sam into the family, but Lizzie stayed on, too, so that there would be that necessary continuity for the small Sam. It’s been Lizzie who has gradually revealed his own story: how his mum and Mole weren’t married, although marriage was a probability. How, after Mole was murdered, she hadn’t had the courage to turn up at The Keep with his baby. It was only after his mother died that the three-year-old Sam finally met his family at The Keep.
Eighteen years on, Sam can see how lucky he was that Lizzie was prepared to stay on with him in his new home. She was his link back to his mother and to his past. Also, importantly, she was young. When she took him to the little village school, and picked him up, she looked like all the other young mums at the school gate. It was hard to be called an orphan but somehow Lizzie bridged the gap and gave him security and he didn’t feel like an orphan. The Chadwicks were a large, close-knit clan, and very soon he began to be a part of it.
Sam pauses to watch a flock of long-tailed tits flittering in the hedge, and then strides on again. He misses Lizzie now that she is no longer there at The Keep – now that she’s met David, married him and gone to live in Bristol – but he really likes David. He’s glad that Lizzie is happy. Of course, they stay in touch – he’s been to stay with them – but things have changed and he wonders sometimes what it might be like to have a mother and a father. Hal and Fliss have often talked to him about his father, who had the odd nickname of ‘Mole’.
‘It was because he was always under tables or chairs, burrowing behind things when he was little,’ Fliss told him. ‘It seemed very natural, when he joined the navy, that he would become a submariner.’
It was a shock to Sam to find out that his father was murdered by an IRA bomb when he was working at the MoD. Clearly there was some secret here. Hal hinted at Naval Intelligence, but refused to be drawn further about Mole’s career. It was another shock when Sam learned that his grandfather and uncle, Mole and Fliss’s elder brother and their parents, had been murdered in Kenya when Mole was only four and that he’d come back home to The Keep at almost the same age that Sam was when Lizzie brought him to meet his family. To hear this was extraordinarily upsetting: history repeating itself. Although he’s known these things for a long while, it’s only very recently that they’ve crystallized and come to the fore. During this last year Sam has become subtly aware of his own mortality. Worse, there’s an inescapable and decidedly uncomfortable feeling that there’s a curse on the males in his lineage. It is as if there is an ill-defined shadow lying across his future.
He tells himself that it’s crazy to feel like this, way too dramatic, that Mole would be proud of him. He’s passed the Admiralty Interview Board and might be following in his father’s footsteps. But, instead, he feels this strange confusion, the sense of terrible loss as if, after all these years, he’s mourning for his parents and for his grandparents.
At a crossroads where the lanes intersect and a small stone bridge crosses a tiny stream, Sam pauses in the sunshine, absorbing the sounds and smells of the surrounding countryside. He leans over the bridge, looking down into the peaty brown water, watching a wagtail hopping between the rocks, and unexpectedly he remembers another bridge in Shanghai. He thinks of its modern design compared with this ramshackle stone, and of the neat cultured landscape contrasted with this, his native countryside. He remembers days of heat and humidity, and of Ying-Yue’s hand in his, and then shakes his head irritably as if to dispel the memory. Yet it has reminded him of the other idea, the other path that might be open to him. He recalls again the school in Shanghai, the ordered, well-disciplined classes of children. The chorus of: ‘Good morning, Mr Sam.’
Why was he so happy then? Was it the teaching? The lure of being needed, of feeling welcome? Or was it Ying-Yue?
At Durham University he’d read Modern Languages, specializing in Mandarin. It was a four-year course and he spent the third year at the Shanghai Normal University. It was the most formative and exciting year of his life. He was good at languages, good at teaching: should he be contemplating abandoning something that made him so happy for a career in the navy?
A tractor rumbles by. The driver raises a hand and Sam returns his salute, then walks on. He can remember the shock when he returned to England from China, gazing out of the window of the train on its way to Devon, marvelling at the greenness of his homeland. He isn’t sure why he feels this need to head for Salcombe, except that he’s always felt close to Max and he needs to be away from The Keep just for the moment in case he betrays his fears, expresses his doubts. He loves Fliss and Hal and he doesn’t want to worry them or hurt them.
As he reaches the Totnes road at Dartington, and waits to cross it, Sam feels irritated that Max’s sister will be there. It would have been good to be alone with his godfather; to try to discover more about Mole from an outsider’s point of view. Max and his father worked together in the navy and were good friends, which was one of the reasons Hal asked Max to be Sam’s godfather. He knows from Hal that Max was one of the few people that Mole liked and trusted, and Sam’s hoping that Max might help to clarify the past so that he feels less disturbed and more confident about the future. The bus arrives minutes after Sam reaches the bus stop. He swings himself aboard and settles down for the journey.
‘What sort of boy is he?’ Cara is asking Max.
Max thinks about it. ‘He’s very like his father. Mole wasn’t unfriendly or standoffish but there was a solitariness about him. He was a first-rate officer, his men loved him, but there was just this air he carried with him, as if he had some secret.’ He shakes his head. ‘I can’t explain it. Sam’s a bit the same. Self-contained.’
‘I’m not surprised after what you’ve just told me about his family history,’ says Cara. ‘It’s so strange that they should both be orphaned in such a terrible way and both brought home to The Keep as infants. Awful.’
‘At least Mole had his sisters,’ says Max, ‘although Susanna was not quite two so she really didn’t know what was happening. And Fliss and Mole knew their grandmother. Sam had nobody except Lizzie.’
‘So Lizzie stayed with him as a kind of nanny? And now she’s got married?’
Max nods. ‘David’s a really nice guy and I think it’s great for her. She’s been so important in Sam’s life and now it’s good that she’s going to have a whole new adventure whilst Sam starts his own new career in the navy. The time is right for them both.’
There’s a little silence.
‘Remember when Mother died,’ Cara says, ‘and then Father sold up in Sussex and moved us into the flat?’
‘Yes, of course I do. I was at Dartmouth at the time but it must have been harder for you. Very tough.’
Cara raises her eyebrows at him. ‘Seriously? You think it was tough to be living in swinging London after years of childhood with a reclusive, unapproachable and unpredictable mother and a mostly absent father?’ She begins to laugh. ‘Do you remember Harmony?’
He smiles too, albeit reluctantly at the foolish name. ‘Hermione? Yes, of course I do. It’s not exactly run of the mill to be introduced to one’s father’s mistress when you’re twenty-one. I’m not likely to forget it.’
Cara gives a sigh of happy remembrance. ‘She was utter heaven,’ she says. ‘That’s why I called her Harmony. After all those years of bitter silences, chilly atmospheres, the bliss of being with someone who talked and laughed and took me to the theatre, to the ballet, to see Peter Pan. We went to art galleries, met her chums for lunch. I thought I’d died and gone to heaven. And she and Father were so happy together even though she was much younger than he was. He was like a different person.’
Max is silent. At twenty-one he’d found it embarrassing to see his father so unashamedly happy with a young woman who was not his wife. It was a relief to be away at sea. Not long afterwards he’d met Judith and he was even more relieved to have his own future to plan for, though he was glad that Cara and Hermione got on so well together.
‘She had a boutique in the King’s Road,’ Cara is saying, ‘and she gave me some gorgeous clothes. She used to come and visit me at school and the other girls were simply green with envy. I loved her so much.’
Max knows that Cara loves anyone who will allow her to love them and it worries him, especially now that she is alone again.
‘I’m glad,’ he says rather awkwardly. ‘I didn’t see as much of her as you did. But I’m glad she was there for you.’
He was going to add, ‘And then there was Philip,’ but once again he is hindered by his anxiety of being tactless, reminding her of what she’s lost.
‘So what time is Sam going to be getting here?’ she asks.
He glances at his watch. ‘Any time now,’ he says, and he forgets about Philip and begins to think about his godson and to prepare for his arrival.
As soon as Sam sees Cara he realizes that all his preconceptions were wrong. He’s been preparing to meet a slightly forbidding if pleasant woman. A woman who has lived in different cities all over Europe: sensible, confident, even judgemental.
This stereotype fades as he and Max walk into the sitting-room and Cara, sitting on the sofa with her bare feet tucked under her, and wearing an oversized shirt over jeans, waves to him informally.
‘Hi, Sam,’ she says. ‘Sorry I can’t get up but poor old Oscar is exhausted.’
She indicates the dog, who is stretched beside her with his head on her thigh. His tail thumps lethargically and Sam laughs.
‘Don’t get up, Oscar,’ he says. ‘I’ll take it that you’re pleased to see me.’
He crosses the room and shakes Cara’s outstretched hand while Max makes the introductions.
‘I can’t believe we’ve never met,’ she says, smiling at Sam.
Her smile is delightful and he feels at ease, welcome. He gives a silent sigh of relief and pleasure. Perhaps this was the right decision: to get away for a few days in an attempt to try to sort out his feelings. Max has gone back downstairs to the kitchen to make tea and Sam perches on a nearby armchair.
‘Poor Oscar is feeling his age,’ Cara is saying, ‘and all these stairs aren’t helping. It would have been sensible for him to stay downstairs after his walk but he can’t bear to be left out of anything.’ She grins. ‘But I so get that, don’t you? I can’t bear to be left out of things either so I can’t blame the poor old boy.’
Sam smiles back at her. ‘Max will have to put in a stairlift.’
‘Actually, that’s not a bad idea,’ says Cara, considering it. ‘He and Judith might need one before too long. It’s a long way up.’
‘When I come up those stairs straight into the kitchen I always feel I’m climbing a gangplank,’ he tells her. ‘I half expect somebody to be waiting at the top to pipe me aboard.’
‘Oh,’ exclaims Cara, ‘and that reminds me that I have to congratulate you on passing the Admiralty Interview Board. Well done!’
He feels pleased but faintly embarrassed. ‘Thanks,’ he says.
He wonders how she might react if he were to tell her of this weird confusion about his future, his thoughts about his father, but then he remembers that Cara’s husband died earlier in the year. She knows all about real loss and bereavement. He hears Max coming up the stairs and turns, getting up to clear a space on the low, long table for the tray Max is carrying.
‘Tea,’ announces Max, putting a large pot on the table. ‘Ordinary builders’ tea. No fancy stuff, I’m afraid. And there’s some lemon drizzle cake.’
He begins to pour the tea into the mugs and Sam glances around, at the view of the beaches across the estuary, and up at the skylight windows.
‘This room is fantastic,’ he says. ‘So much light. And the view is amazing.’
‘Not many people have their sitting-rooms in the attic,’ Max agrees, ‘but it seemed a pity to waste all this space and those views on a bedroom.’
‘Sam thinks you should install a stairlift,’ says Cara, drawing her mug towards her, ‘now that you and Judith are getting senile.’
She bursts out laughing at Sam’s protest and Max’s indignant expression, and Sam begins to laugh too.
‘I didn’t say that. Well, I did, but for Oscar, not for you.’
‘Poor old fellow.’ Max sits at the other end of the sofa, shifting Oscar slightly and patting him. ‘It’s not the best house for an elderly dog. You might have a point, actually. Well, it’s good to see you, Sam. I thought we might do some sailing while you’re here if you’re up for it. I’ll be taking the boat out of the water for the winter soon but we might get a few more weeks in if we’re lucky.’
‘I’d like that.’ Sam accepts a slice of lemon drizzle cake. He enjoys going out in Max’s Vivacity 24. ‘Are you a sailor, Cara?’
She considers the question. ‘Not so’s you’d notice,’ she answers at last. ‘I get muddled with sheets and jibs and all that “ready about” stuff. I like to be on the water but I’m not useful.’
‘You said it,’ agrees Max, ruefully.
‘I shall stay with Oscar,’ says Cara, patting the old dog’s head. ‘We’ll walk out to Snapes Point and wave as you sail past.’
Sam drinks his tea. He feels relaxed with these two people. There aren’t the usual questions about what he’s doing that he generally gets from older people. A text comes in for Max from Judith, and Sam remembers to ask after Freya.
‘Judith is rather worried about her,’ Max tells him. ‘It was quite a nasty break and the baby’s due in a couple of weeks. Paul’s on a lecture tour at Harvard. Judith’s wondering if she should stay on in Oxford, just in case.’
Just briefly, on Cara’s face, Sam notices an expression of hopefulness. It’s gone in a flash but he wonders how well these two women get along and he’s amused by the possibility that Cara finds Judith as tiresome as he does. He feels guilty about it but Judith is so managing, so controlling. Fleetingly Sam meets Cara’s gaze and he knows that she’s thinking exactly the same. He has to smother a smile but she sees it and her mouth twitches in sympathy. In the small silence that follows, Sam feels that some message has passed between them; something important, special. It’s as if he has unexpectedly found a friend and an ally.
‘Poor Judith,’ Cara says to Max. ‘Such a worry. It will be a great comfort for Freya to have her there.’
‘Mmm,’ says Max, non-committally, tapping out a reply.
As Sam finishes his cake, Oscar climbs down from the sofa and comes across to him. He licks Sam’s fingers, his tail wagging with pleasure. Sam pulls his ears gently.
‘You’re just after my cake,’ he tells Oscar. ‘You don’t fool me.’
Max and Cara laugh and the conversation turns to the dogs at The Keep. Sam tells them that Hal and Fliss are considering a rescue dog: a Labrador. Then Max suggests they all have supper at the pub and Sam agrees. He feels happier than he’s been for weeks.