Bernard Samson 7 - Faith by Len Deighton

Author:Len Deighton
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 1994-11-28T18:30:00+00:00

‘Please don’t, Daddy,’ said Fiona.

‘You’ve got to face it, Fiona. You can’t hide your head in the sand.’

‘I’ll see what I can find out,’ I volunteered. ‘I’m going over there next week. I’ll see what I can discover unofficially.’

‘I wish you would, Bernard. George has hired a Berlin lawyer, and some investigator at zillions of dollars a day, but I don’t hold out much hope that anyone can get those swine moving. I’ve heard nothing from him lately. Have you heard anything, Fiona?’

‘From George?’ said Fiona vaguely.

‘From anyone,’ snapped her father with that special wrath that parents save for inattentive children.

‘No,’ said Fiona. ‘Not from anyone.’

All of a sudden the door opened and the children came bounding in, shouting and laughing. Billy was fourteen now, the time when children undergo great physical change. Sally was two years younger. No matter how many times I’d tried to explain to her that both of us still loved her, Sally had never accepted and adjusted to the idea of her mother going away so suddenly and without a goodbye or explanation. ‘Why are you sitting in the dark?’ Sally asked without receiving an answer. But pragmatic Billy went round switching on the lights.

Billy was wearing a dark blazer and grey pants, but Sally was in a pretty dress. ‘Long trousers,’ announced Billy when there was enough light for us to see what he was wearing. This was why he was wearing school uniform on a weekend. He pointed to the badge on his pocket. ‘And this is the school motto in Latin. I do Latin now. And French. I’m third from top.’

‘That’s good,’ I said. ‘You need Latin for languages.’

‘Sally won’t be doing Latin for a long time,’ he said.

‘But I’m in the swimming team,’ said Sally. They were both standing close to me and waiting to be embraced in the way I always greeted them. But I didn’t grab them. I could see that Fiona was tense and frightened of this confrontation. ‘Go and kiss Mummy,’ I said. ‘You haven’t seen her for a long time, have you?’

They turned to look at Fiona, but didn’t move towards her. ‘Hello, Mummy,’ said Billy diffidently. ‘Was it nice?’

‘No,’ said Fiona and smiled. She’d dreaded this first meeting and done everything to put it off.

‘Are we coming home to live with you?’ Sally asked her mother in a whisper.

Fiona glanced for a fleeting moment at her father and then at me.

I answered: ‘Yes, of course. I’m going to cook spaghetti in our new home in London. I’ve made the sauce already. And you’ll try out your new bedrooms. Then I’ll bring you back here to Grandpa’s tomorrow night.’

‘Why?’ said Billy, his voice a wail of disappointment. ‘Why can’t we stay with you always?’

‘Just until the end of term,’ I said. ‘We think it might be bad to pull you out of school so close to the exams.’

‘I’ll do the exams,’ promised Sally. ‘I’ll do anything.’ They were wonderful children; uncomplaining and trusting; and resolutely cheerful despite the constant upheavals they’d been subjected to.

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