Spring 1996
In the light morning mist, Jesse could see the white brick of the day marker on the cliffs cupping the entrance to Trevay’s harbour. For almost two centuries it had guided the fisherman to safety.
The engine of The Lobster Pot chugged reassuringly at just over ten knots. The sea was choppy and a cackle of seagulls followed the churning wake, hoping for a breakfast of fish gut and titbits.
Jesse was at the wheel. Over the last two years Edward had slowly handed the role of skipper to his son and now hardly ever came out on the boat. Not that he didn’t want to. He was a victim of the success of the merger between the Behenna and the Clovelly families, and spent almost all his working hours office-bound.
Jesse knew his father and father-in-law would be pleased with the latest catch. The hold was brimming with the best the sea could offer. He counted his blessings.
His own boat.
Money coming in.
A son he adored.
A marriage that was happy enough.
A secret that was safe.
The longer time went on, the more he began to feel sure that the moment of madness that he and Loveday had shared would never be discovered. He and she had buried it deeply. They never spoke of it. Anyway, Hal was a dead ringer for Loveday. Reddish hair, still plump. While blond, wiry Freddie looked every inch a Behenna. Everyone commented on it.
Loveday and Mickey were happy and were now expecting twins. Jesse had cried when he’d heard. He covered it up as joy but really it was envy. He would love more children but he couldn’t risk asking Greer. Risk her health. Risk the wrath of his father-in-law, who never let him forget that he would be nothing without Greer.
The only piece of grit in the oyster was Grant. Sometimes Jesse was certain Grant knew something. Snide comments. Quips with a sting.
Once, when he and Mickey had taken the boys down to the harbour to look at the boats and to give their mums a rest, they had run into Grant. He was on leave and was on his way back from the pub. He wasn’t drunk, but he’d obviously had a couple, Jesse could tell from his swagger and the taunt in his voice.
‘Well, well. What a stroke of luck running into you two, out with my two little nephews – oops, sorry, just one nephew, isn’t it?’
Grant bent down and ticked the chins of the two boys in their respective buggies. He pulled a face and little Hal laughed.
‘Funny thing is, if you didn’t know better, you might think these two little ’uns were related,’ Grant said, through narrowed eyes.
Jesse stiffened but Mickey interjected and said pointedly: ‘They’ll be like real blood brothers – who can rely on each other – like me and Jesse.’
Grant let out a guffaw. ‘Bleddy blood brothers! Be careful what you wish for, Mickey boy.’
With a raised eyebrow he went on his way, but it was the same whenever he saw Freddie and Hal toddling together. Playing together. Thank God he wasn’t home very often.
The next time he’d seen Grant, Jesse had challenged him.
‘Why do you keep saying stupid stuff about Hal and Freddie?’
Grant smirked. ‘You tell me.’
‘If you’ve got something to say, just say it.’
‘I think it’s you who’s got something to say.’
‘I haven’t got anything to say.’
‘Well that’s all right then, isn’t it?’ Grant gave him one of his trademark sly grins and Jesse had to fight down the urge not to wipe it off his face.
Grant had been away for a few months now, somewhere in the Middle East. Apparently he was doing well and had been involved in a successful raid on insurgents. Or at least that’s what he’d told their mum in one of his infrequent phone calls home.
Jesse pulled his thoughts back to the present. Nothing had been said. Nothing was going to be said. His secret was safe. Dead and buried. He concentrated on heading The Lobster Pot safely into Trevay.
*
Our Mermaid, Mickey’s dad’s boat, was already tied up alongside, its catch unloaded.
Jesse expertly manoeuvred himself next to him.
‘All right, Jesse?’ called Alfie Chandler.
‘’Andsome!’ replied Jesse. ‘Mickey in yet?’
‘He’s about an hour away. Got a cracking catch, he told me.’
‘Yeah. He was gloating on the radio last night.’ Jesse laughed, throwing a rope up to his deckhand on the quay. ‘Ever since he started skippering Crabline, he’s turned into the Midas of the ocean!’
‘It was good of your dad to let him have a boat.’
‘Mickey’s like family, isn’t he?’ bantered Jesse.
‘Aye. Like those two boys of yorn. Might as well be brothers.’ Alfie chuckled cheerfully.
A thread of fear dropped into Jesse’s stomach. First Grant. And now Alfie.
‘What do you mean?’ he said a bit too sharply.
Alfie was surprised. ‘Well, born on the same day and that, and you and Mickey growing up together. He’s more a brother to you than Grant, ain’t he?’
Jesse pulled himself together. ‘Oh, yeah, yeah. I see what you mean.’ He should be less sensitive. It was only his own jitters.
Alfie remembered something. ‘Oh, nearly forgot, your dad’s looking for you. He’s in Mr Clovelly’s office. He said if I saw you to tell you to go and see him straight away.’
*
Jesse strode through the busy fish market, full now of Alfie’s iced and boxed catch, shouting greetings to the customers he knew. ‘Don’t touch Alfie’s lot. Mine’s unloaded in a minute. It’s the best catch Trevay’s ever seen.’ Laughter followed him to the small office in the corner of the market. He knocked on the door and walked in without waiting for an answer. His father was sitting clutching a cup of coffee. His face was strained but he looked relieved when he saw Jesse.
Jesse was scared. ‘What’s the matter, Dad? Is it Mum?’
‘No. Not Mum. It’s Grant.’
Jesse’s mind’s eye flew to a scene in a hot desert where the bodies of British soldiers lay mutilated. Blood seeping into the dust and sand. He could see his brother lying wounded, lifeless … and he felt a surge of relief. Grant, the only person who might know something about him and Loveday, was dead.
‘What’s happened, Dad?’
‘He’s in trouble.’
Relief left Jesse, to be replaced by guilt that he could possibly have felt so good about his brother dying.
‘Trouble for what?’
‘We’re not sure of the details. Someone from his base is coming to see us this morning. Your mum wants you there.’
‘Of course. Can I unload the boat first?’
‘No. Leave it. I’ll get the lads to do it. Your mum’s in bits.’
*
The officer from 42 Commando spared none of the details.
‘It would appear that your son formed an attachment with a local girl whilst on deployment. Her family tried to stop her from seeing him and he went to the family home where he attacked her father. Her father is currently in a British field hospital and in a coma. The medical team are deciding whether to evacuate him to a hospital here in the UK.’
Jan pulled her crumpled tissue through her fingers, too shocked to weep. ‘Are you sure Grant did it?’
‘We have witnesses who would appear to be reliable.’
‘But Grant has wanted to be a Marine since he was little. He worked so hard for his green beret. Why would he risk everything he loved?’
The officer, looking embarrassed, pulled at the sleeves of his immaculate uniform. ‘His commanding officer has had previous cause to be concerned about Private Behenna’s attitude. It was only a matter of time before he was facing a lot of trouble.’
Jan stared at him from her dry eyes. ‘But he had been brave, hadn’t he? He told us he’d been on a raid against the bad men – he always called them the bad men – and had saved his friend’s life.’
The officer coughed and crossed his feet, his gleaming boots winking like mirrors.
‘Ah.’
‘That’s what he told us.’
‘Private Behenna has not been on active duty in the field. His unpredictable behaviour caused serious concern that he might be a danger to other men; he has been confined to base for some time. There seems little veracity to the story he has told you.’
‘You mean it’s not true?’
‘I couldn’t comment; I am sure his commanding officer will be able to give you more information.’
Jan’s heartbroken face spoke clearly of her pain. ‘He’s always been a liar. Ever since he was a little boy.’
Edward, sitting next to her at the old kitchen table, put his arm around her. ‘Jan, let’s get him home and then we’ll know more.’
The officer shuffled his feet again. ‘When he returns to the UK he’ll be held at the barracks until his court martial.’
Jan stood up so fast that she knocked the chair over behind her. Her voice rose in an ascending scale. ‘Court martial?’
‘Yes. I know this must come as a terrible shock to you.’
Now Jan’s tears came thick and fast, in a torrent that made her breathing difficult. Jesse went to her and held her as tightly as he could. She pressed her face into his dirty fishing smock and allowed Jesse to absorb the shock waves of her sobs.
The officer stood. ‘I very much regret having to make this visit.’ He took a card from an inside pocket of his jacket and handed it to Edward. ‘Here are my details if you need any more information. I’ll endeavour to be of assistance in any way I can.’
Edward took the card and placed it on the kitchen table, not knowing what to do next.
‘I’ll see myself out,’ said the officer.
*
Edward went on a bender like no other. He sat in a dark corner of the Golden Hind, rebuffing all overtures from friends and colleagues, and drank solidly and efficiently until Pete, the landlord, refused to serve him any more.
‘You’ve had enough, mate,’ he said, taking the pint glass from his hand.
‘Not yet,’ Edward replied thickly. ‘I don’t think I’ll ever have had enough.’ He left the pub and, after deciding that he wasn’t going home, he staggered up to the sheds and let himself into his old office. It was dusty from misuse, but he quickly laid his hands on the litre-bottle of Scotch he always kept hidden for emergencies. This was an emergency.
*
Jan had gone to bed, leaving Jesse not knowing quite what to do.
He needed to go home and get his head round what was happening. If Grant was found guilty, he could go away for a few years. If he knew anything about Jesse and Loveday, that secret would be locked up with him. Despite himself, and the evident distress all of this was causing his parents, Jesse felt a shot of elation.
‘Mum?’ He stuck his head round her bedroom door. ‘Mum. You awake?’
His mother didn’t answer. Shock had closed her down and she was in a deep sleep.
Jesse wrote a note and left it by her pillow. It said
Mum,
You’re sleeping and I need to get home. Give me a call when you wake up.
Love you
Jesse.
The late afternoon sunshine surprised Jesse. He was expecting it to be much later. Had it been only this morning that all this had unfolded? He walked back to the harbour and hesitated outside the Golden Hind. Should he go in and join his father? He had no doubts he was in there already. He was tempted, but decided he needed a clear head to think over what had happened.
He passed the Hind and turned left into the lane where Pencil Cottage stood. The small front courtyard was merry with spring flowers, basking in the late sunshine. Greer had been doing a distance-learning certificate in garden design; she had planted up dozens of terracotta pots of differing sizes with daffodils, blue hyacinths and cherry blossom trees. Their scent, and the news of his brother’s downfall, made Jesse almost cheerful.
*
‘I’m sorry to say it, but your brother is a horrible person,’ said Greer, swinging Freddie into his high chair and popping his pelican bib round his neck.
‘Yeah, but can you believe he would hurt someone so badly that he’d put them in a coma?’ asked Jesse, passing the bowl of freshly made broccoli gratin to her.
‘Yes I can,’ she retorted, before turning her attention to Freddie. ‘Freddie, it’s your favourite! Mummy’s made you yummy broccoli.’
‘No,’ said Freddie, turning his head away. ‘For Daddy.’
‘Come on, Fred, it’ll make you big and strong. Just like Daddy.’
Freddie pointed at Jesse. ‘Daddy, for you.’
Greer pushed a spoonful of the supper into Freddie’s mouth and watched as it came smoothly out again. ‘Come on, Freddie. This is silly, and Mummy’s not having any nonsense.’
Freddie put his pudgy hands over his eyes and blew a raspberry.
‘Let me help,’ said Jesse, trying not to laugh. ‘You go and watch a bit of telly, or do your nails or whatever it is you’d like to do.’
‘I do need to finish the last module on planting a fruit garden,’ she said, looking defeated.
‘Well, off you go then, and I’ll look after Littl’un.’
As soon as Greer had gone, Jesse shut the kitchen door and smiled conspiratorially at Freddie. ‘Want some ketchup on this?’ Freddie nodded gleefully whilst putting a finger to his lips and saying, ‘SShhh. Mummy no.’
‘Our little secret, son. And with a bit of luck she’ll never know.’
*
For the next few weeks, the local press were full of gossip about Grant, and all and sundry came out of the woodwork to sell their lurid stories about him. Local girls gave kiss-and-tells about his bedroom exploits, and so-called friends from school said how they’d always known he was a wrong ’un.
During that time, Jan was too ashamed to show her face outside of the house while Edward, by contrast, spent even more time in the pub.
One day at the Behenna and Clovelly offices, Bryn rounded on Jesse.
‘When is that father of yours going to stop drowning his sorrows in the bottom of a pint glass and get back to work? We’re running a business here.’
Jesse balked at the suggestion that the catches were suffering. He and Spencer had been holding the fort admirably; if anything, their yields had been up the last few weeks since Jesse had taken the helm.
‘You’ve got no gripes with the catches, Bryn?’
Bryn looked patronisingly at his son-in-law. ‘Ain’t a case of gripes, but it don’t look good, your dad not turning up to meetings. People are talking.’
‘Then your job is to shut them up. He’s your partner, ain’t he?’ Jesse said firmly.
Bryn pursed his lips tightly at this unwanted defiance from his son-in-law. ‘Now look ’ere—’
‘No, you listen to me, Bryn. You might think that you bought me and that you bought my dad too, but what you really bought is the Behenna family. And we’re strong.’ He took a step closer to his father-in-law. ‘You’re going to give my dad an official leave of absence and I’ll take a seat on the board till he’s better.’
‘I’m not sure that the shareholders—’
Jesse lowered his voice dangerously. ‘You’ll tell the shareholders what I tell you to, Bryn. Otherwise, word might start getting around that not only are you knocking off Monica and Doreen from the club, but also that you’ve been passing off second-grade fish as premium to one of your big clients. Where would your precious shareholder confidence be then, Bryn?’
Bryn’s face drained of colour and his voice was tremulous. ‘Jesse, that’s blackmail.’
‘Come off it, Bryn, no need to be dramatic. Just call in the shareholders and we’ll all get back to business. Catching and selling fish.’ He gave Bryn a cocky grin and a friendly clap on the back.
The following week, Jesse was installed on the board by a unanimous vote.
Edward pulled himself together eventually, but Jesse never relinquished his seat on the board.
It took almost six months for Grant to be found guilty of assault. He was sentenced to eight years. His mother was never the same.