Jack is getting ready for his evening at the opera. When he warned Cara that nobody dresses up to go to the Barn Cinema she pretended disappointment.
‘You mean it’s not black tie?’ she asked. ‘And I was really looking forward to seeing you in that.’
‘Deal with it,’ he said. ‘It’s nice and casual. But I’ll treat you to a glass of wine in the Roundhouse during the interval.’
Now he pulls on his moleskin jacket over his checked cotton shirt and jeans and peers at himself in the glass over the chest of drawers. He wonders if he should put on a tie – he doesn’t usually wear one – and resists the feeling that he should be making a special effort. For starters he knows that Amy will pull his leg if he does. When she asked for a lift over to Totnes to see Charley he was surprised at the slight disappointment he felt at being deprived of the journey alone with Cara. He’s been really looking forward to this evening but Amy’s presence will put a different slant on it.
‘You don’t mind, do you?’ she asked him earlier. ‘It’s just a good opportunity to spend some time with Charley and it’ll be nice to see Cara again.’
‘What d’you mean “again”?’ he asked, surprised.
‘I met her in the Coffee Shop,’ Amy answered casually. ‘She was with a friend, Sam. She came over and introduced herself. Apparently Max had pointed me out to her. I really like her.’
Now, as he picks up his wallet, checks for a handkerchief and his keys, Amy shouts from the bottom of the stairs.
‘Get a move on, Dad. You’ll be late if you don’t hurry up.’
As he comes down the stairs she looks him over critically and he’s glad he didn’t put the tie on.
‘Come on, then,’ he says. ‘We’re picking up Cara on the way to the boatyard.’
It’s crazy to feel nervous, as if he’s a boy on his first date, but he can’t help himself. Maybe Amy will help to keep it all normal. They see Cara, waiting in Buckley Street by the steps that lead down to the Fortescue, and she waves to them. He’s pleased to see that she’s dressed as usual in jeans but with a long velvet tunic, nothing fussy but still managing to look chic, and they walk along companionably whilst Amy tells Cara about Charley.
As they drive, Jack is relieved that the conversation is easy and he begins to relax. It’s foolish to feel anxious but, after all, he doesn’t know Cara very well.
At the same time he is aware of some sense of insecurity in her. It might simply be that she is so newly widowed, added to the fact that she has nowhere to live, but something tells him that it’s more than that. It intrigues him and, although he responds to her surface bantering and good humour, he finds that he wants to know more about her.
‘You remember meeting Sam?’ she’s saying to Amy. ‘He’s Max’s godson. He’s been driving me about, showing me all these amazing places in the hope I might find somewhere I want to live. It’s all so beautiful that I’m not sure I could begin to choose.’
‘You should think about renting,’ Amy tells her. ‘Give yourself time. There are a few things coming up in Salcombe that will be let out for the winter.’
‘You’re certain you want to stay around here?’ asks Jack. ‘You won’t miss the bright lights?’
‘I don’t know,’ answers Cara honestly. ‘I feel totally at sea, actually. I didn’t want to live in London. After all, I have no friends there. We’ve been too peripatetic to make real friends. That’s why I fled to Max, I suppose. But I don’t want to impose myself on them. I must be independent.’
Jack feels another upsurge of compassion for her, remembering those early, lonely days. At least he had Amy to keep him focused, he thinks again, forever thankful for her.
‘Of course you do,’ he agrees, ‘but it’s still wise to be cautious about buying. Amy’s right, there’s almost certain to be something you can rent for a few months.’
He drops Amy off in Bridgetown, refusing her suggestion to go in and say hello to Charley.
‘Maybe when we pick you up,’ he says. ‘We don’t want to be late.’
It’s beginning to get dark as they turn into the lower drive that leads on to the Dartington Hall estate. Cara is enchanted by the beautiful medieval hall and its courtyard, and by the theatre with the café built into the gatehouse and surrounding walls.
‘Let’s order our drinks,’ says Jack, ‘and then they’ll be ready for us at the interval.’
He’s pleased by Cara’s delight in everything, glad that he invited her to come with him. They go into the small cinema, find their seats, and he hands her the single sheet that takes the place of a programme and describes the performance that will be streamed live from the Metropolitan Opera House in New York. She smiles at him and he grins back at her.
‘Not quite as good as the real thing,’ he says, unable to shake off this slight sense of inferiority – which is rather foreign to him – but hoping that she’ll really enjoy it.
‘It’s great,’ she says. ‘It’s so intimate. Rather like being in someone’s private cinema. And wonderful to be able to see first-class productions.’
They begin to talk about other operas that will be coming during this autumn season and Jack is aware of an invading sense of pleasure; of the prospect of a new beginning. The lights dim and they sit back in their seats, alert with happy anticipation.
As they come out into the darkness, Cara pauses for a moment under the stone archway to look at the great medieval hall set in its courtyard of buildings. Lights shine from the mullioned windows; shadows slant across the lawn. It’s like a Cambridge college.
‘Magical,’ she says. ‘I must come and see it in daylight.’
‘You must,’ agrees Jack, as they walk together to the car park. ‘The gardens are at their best in the spring but it’s always worth a visit.’
He takes his phone from his pocket and switches it on.
‘I’ll just tell Amy we’re on our way,’ he says, but immediately a message pings in and he pauses to read it. ‘Oh, right. Amy’s decided to stay the night with Charley. Probably tomorrow as well. She’ll bring her home on Saturday.’
He taps out a message and then puts his phone back in his pocket.
‘That’s rather nice,’ Cara says. ‘I like impromptu things, don’t you? They often work so much better than pre-arranged events. There’s no time to get expectation all worked up so there’s less chance of failure.’
Jack laughs as he unlocks the car and they climb in. ‘And there was I just about to suggest that you and Sam come over for coffee or a drink on Saturday. You could meet Amy properly, and Charley, too, if she stays around that long.’
‘Well, that’s a bit different,’ says Cara, putting on her seat belt. ‘I was really talking about big events like Christmas or special birthdays. Drinks on Saturday has a nice casual sound.’
They join the line of cars leaving the car park and heading down the long drive to the main road. She’s surprised at how much she’s enjoyed her evening: going down the stairs in the interval, into the Roundhouse with its huge beam and whitewashed walls, to find their glasses of wine waiting for them, set out on a table with their names printed on a piece of paper. They sat together on one of the sofas and discussed the merits of Papagena and the Queen of the Night and agreed that it was impossible not to clap just like the live audience at special moments. Yet even as she laughed and talked with him, there was the ever-present knowledge that she mustn’t allow herself to be drawn too closely to him. Too many secrets and lies, too much to hide. She knows that Jack could get under her skin: he’s so easy, so amusing, so confident. With Philip alive she was able to live and love and laugh with him, skating above the darkness – the suppressed chaos that might overwhelm her – always in denial. Now, she can’t imagine trusting anybody else enough to tell them the truth about her life, though occasionally she imagines the luxury of confession.
‘So that’s a plan, is it?’ Jack is asking, as they turn on to the main road, heading into Totnes. ‘Saturday? Coffee and lunch at the pub? Will Max be back?’
‘Yes,’ she says, glad to be distracted from her thoughts. ‘He’s coming home tomorrow. I’ll have to check with him and Sam. Either sounds great.’
Another thought crosses her mind. ‘Have you met Cosmo yet?’
‘No.’ She hears him chuckle in the darkness. ‘Amy’s not letting on about Cosmo.’
Cara remembers the little sense of shock in the Coffee Shop when she first saw Cosmo, the way he reminded her of Giovanni, and she has a sudden need to reach out to Jack, to put her hand on his arm or his thigh so as to tether herself to someone who might protect her from her demons. Deliberately she crosses her arms, tucking her hands into her armpits.
‘Like I was saying earlier, Sam is making a great guide,’ she says lightly, deliberately changing the subject, ‘and I’m having a wonderful time, but I’m still totally confused about where I ought to be. I think everyone’s right about advising me to rent but the million-dollar question is where.’
‘Salcombe,’ he answers at once. ‘Why not? You’ve got family there and you’re making friends. Why go out on a limb? Especially when …’
He pauses and she smiles into the darkness.
‘It’s odd, isn’t it,’ she asks, ‘how difficult it is to speak the language of grief?’
She hears him sigh and the silence stretches between them.
‘I used to dread going out after Sally died,’ he says at last. ‘There were people who’d cross the road because they simply didn’t know what to say to me, and others who would immediately put on sad faces and talk in special hushed voices and tell me how terrible I must be feeling.’
‘Yes,’ she agrees. ‘It’s hard for everybody, I know, and it’s impossible to get it right, but I prefer those people who give me a hug and say, “God, isn’t life shit? Let’s go and have a drink.”’
‘Yeah, that’s it,’ Jack says. ‘You need people to be drawing you out of it, not commiserating until you want to scream or leave you feeling utterly depressed. I was lucky to have Amy. She kept me going.’
‘Well, I have dear old Max,’ Cara says lightly. ‘Or at least I do until Judith comes back. Judith doesn’t totally approve of me. I was always the tiresome little sister and I always will be. There were only the two of us, you see, and our parents were rather dysfunctional, so Max tended to watch out for me. Poor Judith. It must be very irritating for her. And now here I am again, being needy and inadequate.’
‘Is that why you’re reluctant to get a place in Salcombe? You always seem to back off a bit when anyone mentions it.’
Cara is touched by his perspicacity. ‘Probably. I don’t mean to irritate her but it just happens. Having me living in the town must be her worst nightmare.’
‘OK, then you need to make your own group of friends so that she doesn’t feel threatened.’
‘How easy you make it sound,’ marvels Cara. ‘Well, so far I have you, Amy, Sam … and I’m beginning to get to know Cosmo.’
‘Cosmo?’ He’s clearly startled. ‘You’ve met Cosmo?’
‘Yes, I have. And a very nice-looking fellow he is too. I met him in the Coffee Shop.’
‘And you liked him?’
‘He was very easy to talk to. He had a dog with him. Reggie, I think he said his name is. Yes, he was amusing, friendly. You know what it’s like round here. Everybody talks to complete strangers. He’s only here for a short while, dog-and-house-sitting. He’s on a sabbatical and he’ll have to get back to his job.’
She feels her own sense of relief as she says these words. Soon Cosmo will be gone and maybe she will be able to regain that self-defence, that quietness of mind, that she’s created so carefully over the years. Cara glances sideways at Jack’s profile. She suspects that he’s trying to think of a way around her staying in Salcombe without causing problems with her sister-in-law and once again she’s touched by his compassion. She tries to lift the atmosphere to a lighter level.
‘So perhaps you should invite lots of lovely people to your lunch party,’ she suggests, ‘so that I can make all these new friends.’
She sees him smile. ‘I’ll think about it,’ he says.
As he sits at his laptop, Sam turns as he hears the front door open and glances at his watch. It’s rather early for Cara to be back from the opera and he switches his laptop off, gets to his feet and goes to the top of the stairs. Oscar is already there, tail wagging expectantly.
‘Only me,’ calls Max. ‘Thought you might have gone to the pub.’
‘We weren’t expecting you till tomorrow,’ says Sam, stepping back as Max climbs up towards him.
‘Yes, sorry about that. I texted Cara, forgetting that she was going to the opera, and I was nearly here when I remembered so there didn’t seem much point in ringing. Paul is back from his conference at Harvard and it’s a bit of a squeeze so we decided that I was surplus to requirements now he’s back.’ He strokes Oscar. ‘Hello, old chap. Have you been a good boy?’
‘Tea?’ offers Sam. ‘Coffee?’
‘Actually,’ says Max, ‘I think something stronger might be in order. It was a long drive home.’
Sam grins. ‘You sound like Hal. Let me guess. Gin and tonic?’
‘Now you’re talking,’ says Max, subsiding at the table. ‘I am feeling very, very old. Gin’s over there. Tonic and lemon in the fridge.’
Sam makes the gin and tonic to Hal’s strict specifications – plenty of gin, not too much tonic – and hands the glass to Max, who takes it gratefully and sips.
‘Aaah. I approve of someone who knows how to make a decent G and T. You’ve clearly had training from Hal. Good man. So what’s new?’
‘Nothing much.’ Sam sits opposite and tries to think of anything that’s happened since Max left for Oxford.
‘Oh, come on,’ says Max encouragingly, stretching his legs comfortably beneath the table, one hand on Oscar’s head. ‘So I left you at The Keep …’
He looks expectantly at Sam, who nods. ‘OK. So we all had coffee with Fliss and Hal. They really hit it off with Cara and she’s coming over for lunch next week. Well, you too, of course, if you want to come. And then I drove Cara to Dartmouth and along the coast.’ He wonders whether to mention the breakfast at Blackpool Sands but for some reason decides against it. ‘Really, I’ve just been letting her get a feel of the area. It’s been great fun.’ He pauses. ‘So when’s Judith coming home?’
Max sips some more gin and tonic. ‘Don’t quite know. It’s easier now Paul’s home and Freya’s ankle is on the mend, but it’s still a tough call with Poppy, who’s very demanding, and the baby due any minute. I have a feeling Judith will hang on a bit if they want her.’ He smiles at Sam. ‘Families, eh? So how are you doing?’
Sam looks at his godfather, longing to confide in him but he resists it.
‘I’m having a great time, actually,’ he answers. ‘I hadn’t realized how good it is to show places I really love to somebody who’s never seen them. It’s made me think …’
He hesitates. It’s not in his nature to bare his soul but one of the reasons he’s come to Salcombe is that he’s hoping to bring his confusion into the open: the thought that somehow, by simply joining the navy, he’s inviting into his life the same kind of disaster that happened to his grandfather and father.
‘To be honest,’ he says, ‘it sounds a bit weird but since I passed the AIB it’s like all my past has suddenly resurfaced. You know? Mole being blown up and my grandparents being killed out in Kenya? It’s like I’m hearing it for the first time and having to deal with it. And at the same time I never knew any of them so I’ve nothing to work with. It’s always been a part of my life – I’ve grown up with it – but suddenly I’m having this problem with it.’
Max turns his glass round and round, his eyes fixed on it while he thinks about what Sam has said.
‘I suppose,’ he says at last, ‘we all come to that moment when we cross the divide between childhood and adulthood. Suddenly, you’re assuming responsibility for yourself, making up your own mind about things, taking your own decisions. Who we are plays a big part in that. It seems to me that two major things have happened to you. Lizzie, who has been your continuum, has married and moved on, and you’ve passed the AIB. Right so far?’
Sam nods. He feels uncomfortable, already wishing he hadn’t spoken out, but he’s got to run with it now.
‘Up until now,’ says Max, ‘you’ve been part of a big noisy clan of people and you’ve been swept about in all the activities and excitements that go with being a small part of a large family. But now, suddenly, it’s time to step forward and stand alone. Oh, they’ll always be there – they’ve got your back – but it’s time to be independent.’
There’s a silence. Sam knows that there’s a great deal of truth in what Max has said and he feels a strong affection for his godfather. He doesn’t know quite what to say but Max helps him through.
‘And all that pomposity,’ he says reflectively, ‘on one gin and tonic.’
‘But they were navy rations,’ says Sam, smiling. ‘Have another?’
‘I think I might just do that.’
The door opens below them and they can hear Cara calling goodbye to Jack. The atmosphere changes as Cara comes up the stairs, exclaiming at seeing Max. Now the story of his Oxford trip must be told again and Sam is able to relax. He knows what Max has said is good sense: at this moment in his life the opening of the door to his past is a necessity but it’s still going to be difficult to come to terms with his family’s tragic history. As Cara and Max talk, Sam wonders again why he’s never told Max about Ying-Yue. Was it because he thought Max wouldn’t understand; wouldn’t be able to accept the intensity of his loss? And what about teaching? How can he explain to Max – his naval role model, his father’s friend – of his doubts about joining the navy, and his pull towards a different vocation, especially when his memories of teaching in Shanghai, the pleasure he took in it, are so inextricably linked with his love for Ying-Yue? Some deep instinct warns him against talking with anyone about his confusion. This is something he must deal with alone. After all, who else would understand his dilemma?
Cara is telling them about the opera, about Jack inviting them to a lunch party, and Sam sinks back in his chair and prepares to join in the conversation.