to know sometime.
‘ I ’ ve left the marines . ’
Another silence. Maybe a slight nod, as if this was only to be expected.
‘ Your decision or theirs? ’
Jack took another breath before he answered. ‘ Mutual. ’ Technically, a medical discharge, but Harry didn ’ t need to know that. This time, there was a definite nod beside him.
‘ A step too far, was it? ’
For a moment the rage surged back, hot and furious, but Jack took another breath and focused on a pine tree out on Witt Point. He couldn ’ t see the traces of the old chapel from here, but it was still one of the most peaceful views he knew and he stared at it until he could pick up his glass, without shaking, and take a sip that tipped into a gulp. There, he was learning.
‘ That ’ s right, I couldn ’ t hack it. ’ Jack refilled his glass, hoping he ’ d put enough derision in his voice to make Harry wonder if he was lying. He wasn ’ t going to try to explain. Harry had served twenty- two years in the Royal Engineers without being shot at, always managing to be somewhere else when things got nasty, like being in Germany during the Falklands War . A warrant officer second class when he retired, a parade- ground s ergeant major . Sure, he ’ d been to trouble spots. Northern Ireland, even peacekeeping in the Balkans, but he ’ d never seen action. He wouldn ’ t understand.
‘ So what are you going to do? ’
‘ Odd jobs, while I work out the next steps. ’ And living off his resettlement grant.
Harry breathed deeply a few times, as if he was working up to something.
‘ Pass us that glass then. ’
Great. They might even have a conversation. Harry held the glass, not drinking, sitting upright and square so his shoulders filled the space between Jack and the figurehead, crowding him into the corner.
‘ Here ’ s to Grandpa, then, ’ Jack prompted, and drank. Harry made a token sip.
Another pause.
‘ You always was close, ’ Harry said after a while. It was a statement, not a question, and it hung in the air with an implied criticism. ‘ Closer than you was to us, ’ he might have added. Shit, did he really wonder why Jack had spent his boyhood weekends on the water with Grandpa rather than at home, enduring the salad-crunching silence of Sunday T ea ?
‘ We got along OK . I wasn ’ t frightened of him. ’ Jack let Harry digest that for a while, and then waved the bowl of raspberries at him. Peace offering. Harry shook his head. Another long pause.
‘ Will you sell this place, Dad? ’ Jack would miss it, if he did. His father had no siblings to share the inheritance, and the cottage must have been worth a bit. Ten or twelve miles away by road, two across the water, Furzey was a playground of the rich, all smart yachts and apartment blocks. The same distance the other way, over the ferry at the narrow harbour entrance, was some of the most expensive real estate in the country. You ’ d pay more for a sea view round there than the average person would earn in a hundred years. Grandpa ’ s cottage was small, one half of a semi-detached pair, and too remote from the bright lights to command top prices, but it was the sort of place a City family would snap up as a holiday cottage, like the one next door. Plus there ’ d be a huge premium for a mooring in the only deep- water inlet on five miles of shoreline.
‘ Probably. ’ Harry sipped his wine, a larger pull this time, and rubbed his spare hand on his trousers like he was wiping sweat off his palm.
‘ Oh, there ’ s a letter for you. ’ He handed over an envelope with Lieutenant Jack Ahlquist, RM in Grandpa ’ s script. Not any more, old man. It was still sealed.
‘ Can I ask a favour? ’ Jack held the letter loosely in his hand, unwilling to open it beside his father.
‘ Depends what it is. ’
‘ I ’ d like something to remember him by. That photo of him in Draca . Maybe the model of a longship that he made. Perhaps his diaries, if you ’ re going to chuck them? ’
‘ Yeah. S ’ pose . But let me think about the diaries. ’
Harry spoke without enthusiasm. Jack stood and took the letter down the garden.
He felt the intensity of Harry ’ s scrutiny as he came back, but his father was too proud to ask what was in it. Jack gave it to him anyway and watched his eyebrows fold as he read it.
‘ I don ’ t understand. ’
‘ Neither do I. ’ Jack took the letter back and read it again. It was dated three months previously , so he ’ d written it after he knew he was dying.
Jack, my boy. He always called Jack that.
I have a request, something they wouldn ’ t let me put in the Will. That, by the way, is with Cartwright and Johnston in Furzey .
Draca is in the boatyard. George Fenton runs it now, and will show you where to find her. She don ’ t look in great shape any more, but then she don ’ t need to for what I have in mind.
See if you can find a way of putting me on board, will you? Then take the old girl out to sea and sink her. Best of all, burn her. Somewhere off Anfel Head. Draca will know where. It ’ s where she wants to be, and I quite like the idea of going out like an old Viking chieftain.
There ’ s a challenge, eh? See what you can do.
Thanks for being around, these past few months. It ’ s helped a lot.
Be strong, Jack. You always were the best of us, and still are.
Love,
Grandpa
*
That last sentence raised a lump in Jack ’ s throat.
‘ He ’ s mad. ’ Harry still used the present tense.
The anger flared, and died as Jack realised his father wasn ’ t talking about ‘ the best of us ’ . Mad? Yes, ‘ Draca will know where ’ was a bit strange, but the cancer had spread to Grandpa ’ s brain by the end. He could act strange, sometimes, but Jack didn ’ t think he was mad. He ’ d loved that boat. He ’ d rebuilt it from a wreck, with his own hands, and it was a part of him. Some people want their ashes scattered in a place that ’ s special. Grandpa wanted to go down with his boat. Jack could understand that.
‘ I ’ d better go and talk to that solicitor. ’ When Harry stood up, he needed to duck to fit under the bows of the boat shelter.
‘ I ’ m not driving anywhere. ’ Jack poured more wine. ‘ I ’ ll sleep here, in my old room. ’ He ’ d done that a lot while Grandpa was sick. ‘ And the offices will be shut by the time you get there. ’
Harry snorted as he left. Jack didn ’ t blame his father for the lack of emotion. Not really. Harry and Eddie had never been close. They lived ten miles apart and hardly saw each other. Strange how life repeats itself. A couple of times Jack had been here when his father rang, maybe after Jack had taken the old man out for a birthday pint, and the half of the conversation he could hear always sounded stilted, a duty performed and received, technically connected but not connecting in any personal sense. Soon Grandpa would say ‘ Jack ’ s here – want a word? ’ like he was keen to hand over the phone. Afterwards the cottage would be quieter, as if some sadness or regret had settled on the place, and Grandpa would go and sit on his dinghy seat, even in winter, and smoke.
*
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