Page 73 of Last Letter Home
‘As you know, Gordon, I’ve already got a huge amount to do. Can I think about it?’ She nearly reminded him how she hadn’t been well the term before, but bit her lip, realizing it wouldn’t help her status in his eyes. To a man with no imagination who had never suffered from depression or anxiety, people who did were practically basket cases. Of course, he wouldn’t have expressed it like that, he knew the jargon, but at meetings she had sensed his unease about the subject of well-being.
‘Of course, take all the time you like,’ Platt said affably, ‘but I need your decision by Monday.’ He smiled benignly at her and picked up a file from his in-tray, thus signalling that the conversation was over.
By five o’clock, Briony was mentally and emotionally exhausted, but also furious, with Platt, but also herself. This, she recognized, as she glanced at her watch, wondering what had happened to the student who hadn’t turned up, was a good thing. Anger could be a positive emotion, her counsellor had once suggested. It could encourage her to take control of a situation rather than allow it to defeat her.
The student obviously wasn’t coming. Wonderful, she could go home on time. Deliberately ignoring a sheaf of papers waiting to be marked, Briony locked her office and sneaked out.
At home she kicked off her shoes, poured herself a glass of white wine and went to run a bath. This evening would be for herself, she sighed, as she lowered herself into the hot scented water and closed her eyes. Supper, read more of Paul’s letters, watch TV. She wouldn’t worry about the wretched Platt. A phrase her dad’s father used to say floated into her mind. ‘Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof,’ and she smiled as she remembered asking him what it meant. ‘Live for the moment and don’t worry about the future.’
Her eyes snapped open. Luke, she was supposed to email Luke about Sarah’s letters. On the one hand she wanted to, on the other she didn’t quite know whether she was stirring something up by contacting him. Really, she told herself as she got out of the bath, pull yourself together. They were both grown-ups and contacting him with information he needed for his work was hardly unreasonable.
She had his email address, so after she’d eaten her supper she quickly wrote to him, hoping he was well and asking him what it was he specifically wanted to know. Then her phone rang and picking it up she felt a little shock as she saw the caller’s name. She swiped the screen.
‘Luke? Hello.’
‘Hi. I got your email and thought I’d give you a call.’ Was she imagining that his voice in her ear sounded tentative, not his usual light confident self? Her heart went out to him and in her agitation she got up from the sofa and went over to the window, looked down onto the night-time street below. There was a black and white cat walking along the top of a fence.
‘It’s good to hear from you,’ she said softly. ‘How are you?’
‘Fine. How about you? Have I got you at a bad time?’
‘No, no, I was watching telly, but nothing important. Anyway, what about things at Westbury Hall? Is the garden project going OK?’
‘Yes, it’s been going well. I’ve nearly finished drawing up the plans, then I have to cost them. I need a few more details about some of the plants, though. Kemi managed to borrow the picture of the garden from Mrs Clare’s flat, but it doesn’t go into enough detail.’
They talked for a while about the specifics. Had Sarah mentioned the location of particular plants in her early letters, Luke wanted to know, before the garden had been turned over to wartime farming? Briony didn’t remember.
‘I think it’s best if I simply send you the relevant transcripts,’ she said, ‘but there’s something I must tell you. You’re not going to believe it, but I’ve found the other half of the correspondence. Paul’s letters to Sarah, I mean.’
Below, the cat had settled itself on a fence post, its tail twitching as it stared at something down on the ground. A mouse, maybe, Briony thought, craning to see.
‘Have you?’
‘Isn’t it amazing?’ She described how she had come by them. ‘I’ve started reading them. Nothing useful about the garden so far, but, Luke, they’re full of his wartime experiences. He was in Egypt. At El Alamein!’
‘I take it he survived?’ Luke laughed. ‘Stupid question, I suppose. Unless you’ve found a letter that says I’m dying, this is my last will and testament.’
‘I haven’t,’ she said stiffly, thinking he was making light of her discovery.
‘You’re still very involved in it all, aren’t you?’ he said. ‘It’s more than academic, then.’
‘Yes, of course it is. It’s about my family. Paul quite often mentions my grandfather, Harry. And Ivor Richards. They were all there in the same infantry company together, which is not as much a coincidence as it sounds, since it was a Norfolk regiment. Though quite what they were doing there I don’t know, as on the whole, Norfolk Battalions weren’t sent to Egypt.’
‘I didn’t mean to sound flippant. You know . . .’ Briony sensed Luke searching for the right words. ‘It took a bit of courage for me to ring. I didn’t know whether you’d want to hear from me.’
She felt such a flood of feeling that it was hard to say, ‘Oh, why?’ with coolness.
‘I may be paranoid, but you seem to have been avoiding me lately.’
Outside, the cat pounced on whatever it had been stalking. A mouse or a shrew? Briony got a horrible glimpse of the creature hanging from its jaws.
‘Luke,’ she said, after a moment, trying out her strongest tone. ‘Of course I haven’t.’
‘Right.’ His voice was strained. ‘Scrub that then. Don’t worry.’
‘I saw Aruna last night. But of course you probably know that.’
‘Yes, she said it was the first time for ages and that it had been good to see you.’
