punctuating each phrase with bulldog puffs of air through his lips. ‘ Good God! When I joined the service, there were three absolute no- nos : druggery , buggery and treason. ’ He slapped the table in pretend anger. ‘ Now druggery earns a slap on the wrist and buggery is positively encouraged! Next thing we know, treason will be a matter of conscience. ’
Charlotte laughed. Jack could do a pretty good imitation of her father.
‘ Daddy thinks the world of you. They both do. And they know things have been difficult. ’
‘ You ’ ve never told them you ’ re gay, have you? ’ Jack remembered the hurt on Charlotte ’ s face at that dinner.
‘ I ’ m not gay, I ’ m bi. ’
Jack shrugged. ‘ Bi, then. ’ He didn ’ t challenge her. ‘ But have you? ’
She shook her head. ‘ I think they were starting to suspect, though. ’
‘ And marrying me gave you ‘ air cover ’ . ’
‘ I hope I was never so cynical. ’
‘ You should have told me though. Before we married. That ’ s the only thing that still rankles. ’ His words tasted of strong coffee and stale alcohol.
‘ We ’ ve had this argument. I thought that part of me would go away. ’
Jack opened his mouth and shut it again, realising they were being drawn back into a well-worn channel. They were quiet for a while, watching the view, until she touched his hand again.
‘ We ’ re best like this, Jack, almost like brother and sister. ’
‘ But it ’ s not enough, is it? For either of us. ’
‘ We make love, sometimes. ’
‘ So when was the last time? ’
Charlotte let go of his hand, and began fiddling with the frilly edging to the carpet around the carving.
‘ You ’ ve changed, Jack, since you were wounded. It was easier to love the laughing hero. You ’ ve been pretty hard to live with lately, chum. ’
It was a morning for long pauses.
‘ That thing ’ s looking at me. ’ Charlotte stared at the rug, where one corner had fallen open, exposing the carved head like a monster in a baby ’s blanket. The way the light caught its carved eye gave it life. From this angle, the gaping jaw was a lascivious grin rather than a snarl. Charlotte pulled her shirt closed across her chest and held her hand there, beneath her throat, as if she ’ d spotted a peeping Tom.
‘ It ’ s got good taste. ’
Charlotte stretched to spin the wrapping so that the head was pointing away from them, towards the water. ‘ I don ’ t like that thing. It ’ s creepy. ’ Her breasts slipped within her shirt as she moved, pushing free. Jack swallowed, and shuffled a little closer on the bench.
‘ It ’ s growing on me. Grandpa used to talk to it, like a pet. ’
‘ Bloody ugly pet. ’
A mile away over the water, the triangular sail of a yacht ghosted seawards. Jack put his arm around Charlotte ’ s back and let his hand rest on her hip.
‘ I wondered, you know, Lottie. Even before we married. The way you look at beautiful women, it ’ s the way I look at them. The way I look at you. ’ There was something about this place that inspired calm. It made for honesty.
‘ But you still married me. ’
‘ Being with you was always so easy, so natural. And when I walked into the officers ’ mess with you on my arm, I was king of the world. ’
‘ Nothing to do with me being a g eneral ’ s daughter then? ’
Ouch. ‘ I hope I was never so ambitious. ’
‘ Do you want us to separate? ’ She said that so lightly that she might have been offering him a cup of tea. Jack thought long enough about his reply for her to turn and peer at his face.
‘ We ’ re still friends, Lottie. Does that have to change? ’
‘ No. Our trouble is that we don ’ t love each other enough to make a go of it, even if I could, and we like each other too much to end it. ’
‘ But I think I ’ ll live here for a while. Restore the boat. Try and make sense of my life. Think things through. ’
‘ I ’ m cool with that. Don ’ t spend too much time on your own, though. It makes you moody, these days. ’
‘ Then come and see me. Come for weekends. ’ The thought of not seeing her, of drifting apart, was suddenly frightening.
‘ I could. ’
‘ How about you, Lottie? Do you want to separate? ’
‘ Nah. I think playing ‘ happy families ’ suits us both. ’
Jack sipped coffee. They hadn ’ t spoken so calmly since he was repatriated. Perhaps being in the cottage, away from their normal lives, was letting them look back on themselves from the outside. Charlotte pushed a curl of dirt from a whorl in the wood with a fingernail, grey spiralling over rose.
‘ What are you thinking about, Lottie? ’
‘ George. ’
Jack ’ s shoulders slumped as he remembered the funeral.
‘ Someone else who deserves an apology. ’
‘ Precisely. Let ’ s go down there later, after I ’ ve checked in with the office. ’
Jack groaned. He didn ’ t want to see George Fenton, not until he was feeling stronger. He ’ d grovelled enough for one day.
*
Two hours later they sat together in the cottage ’ s front room, Charlotte in an armchair with an iPad in her lap, bare legs stretching forever from beneath the modesty square of plastic. Jack sat at the desk, flicking through Eddie ’ s diary of four years before, reading the entries for the Channel Islands voyage, and then on into Eddie ’ s last excursions of the season, after Jack had returned to his unit:
*
23 rd September. Wind WS W Force 5, falling. Fair.
Had an overnight sail with the usual reprobates from the yard. Rode the Westerly flow and put into Dartmouth for the night. Had a bit of a run ashore and were late starting back. Tide turning against off Anfel Head. Wind picked up. Seas short & ugly.
The lads said I carried too much sail. Dangerous, they said, and not the first time.
But Draca loved it. You could feel her come alive. That dragon on the bow is like the chrome Jaguar badge on Harry ’ s car bonnet; makes you feel strong & want to go faster. It was like she was playing with the waves, dancing, and I was dancing with her.
I gave Chippy Alan the helm, and let him feel the ship at her best, but he was frightened. Not like him. We sort of fell out.
Wimps.
*
Charlotte ’ s phone rang, and she answered it in the clipped, high-energy voice she kept for business.
‘ No problem … yah … I ’ m on the case … ’ She sat straighter in the chair as if her body was part of the voice, making her shirt gape. From time to time she ’ d lean forward for something in her briefcase, then sit back, not meeting Jack ’ s eye. She seemed even more feminine