Page 15 of Atlas: The Story of Pa Salt
The panel slid open, and the tall, tanned figure of Georg Hoffman appeared. Still dressed immaculately in his dark suit, it appeared that he had not even loosened his tie during the course of the three-hour flight.
‘Good evening, Merry. Or should I say good morning...’ His eyes moved to the blanket and pillow which had been handed to me by the steward, both unused on a neighbouring seat. ‘Ah. I take it you did not get much rest. Did you... open the package?’
‘I did, Georg. I read the letter and, of course, had to start the diary. It’s hugely long... as I’m sure you know.’
A hint of a smile appeared on Georg’s moustachioed face. ‘I have carried it with me for a long time, but I swear to you, I have never once turned its pages. It was not mine to read.’
‘So you’re telling me that you honestly have no idea about the history of Atlas?’
‘Ah, no. I did not say that. Only that I have not read the diary.’ Georg hesitated. ‘I know... IknewAtlas – your father – very well. He was both the bravest and the kindest man I’ve ever had the privilege of meeting.’
‘How long until we land?’
‘The pilot has just let me know that we’ll be starting our descent into Nice in a few moments’ time. Then we have a car arranged that will take us directly to the port where theTitanis docked.’
I looked out of the cabin window. ‘It’s still dark, Georg. What time is it?’
He checked his watch and raised his eyebrows. ‘Just approaching half past three here in France. I apologise, I appreciate what a whirlwind this must be for you.’
‘You can say that again. I still don’t know whether this is the right thing to be doing. I mean, do the other daughters know that... well... according to everything I’ve learnt... that I’m his biological daughter?’
Georg lowered his eyes. ‘No. I... they assume you are referred to as “the missing sister” due to the fact that it was Atlas’s intention to adopt you, but he was unsuccessful in doing so. I must confess that, as odd as it may sound, they are even unaware of his true name. As you know, he has simply always been referred to by his daughters as “Pa Salt”.’
‘Jesus, Mary and Joseph, Georg.’ I rested my brow in between my thumb and index finger. ‘Although I recall that when I met her, Tiggy had worked out the anagram.’ I lookedback at him. ‘That’s one of them, at least!’ I said with a dollop of sarcasm.
Georg nodded. ‘You must understand, Merry, I am but an employee. Even though I knew your father for nearly my entire life, and counted him as a dear friend, it is my duty to follow his orders, even in death.’
‘And yet, you seem to know all about me, Georg. You knew where to find me. You know that I am, apparently, Atlas’s descendant. And you say all of this has come to light in the last few weeks?’
‘I... yes.’ Georg shifted uncomfortably.
‘So, given the fact that Atlas has been dead for a year now, where on earth did you get all of your information from? Who told you about the ring I was found with?’ The exhaustion and frustration of the last few weeks was beginning to spill out. ‘And what about Argideen House? How did you discover that’s where I was born?’
Georg removed his pocket square and began to dab his brow. ‘Merry, these are excellent questions, and ones that I promise will be answered. But not by me.’
His response was not quite to my satisfaction.
‘I mean, and no offence intended to any of the sisters here, but did they never question why this strange man decided to adopt six girls and name them after the Seven Sisters? And that their surname, D’Aplièse, is an anagram of “Pleiades”?’
‘Many times. As you’ll see when you meet them, each of the girls is as intelligent as the man who raised them. They simply took his word that they were named after his favourite star cluster, and that their surname was a further reflection of his love for the heavens. They did not realise the connection – that they were so called because they were the daughters of Atlas.’
I closed my eyes, the prospect of walking into my ownhand-crafted fairy tale aboard theTitanbecoming less and less appealing.
‘How far into the journal did you read?’
‘Not far. Atlas is just a little boy. He’s been taken in by the sculptor and his family.’
Georg nodded. ‘I see. There is much to learn. I promise you, Merry, the more you read, the clearer the picture will become. You will understand who he was, who you are... and why he adopted the six girls.’
‘Well, that’s just the thing, Georg. I don’t know if it’s right that I’m the first to read it. As you yourself said, the other six girls were raised by Atlas. They loved him. I didn’t even know him. I think that the others should have access to it before I do.’
‘I... understand, Merry. This must be a very difficult situation for you. But please know, it was Atlas’s wish for you to learn his story as soon as we were able to find you. Because it is your story too. His whole life, he lived with the guilt of you believing he had abandoned you, which could not be further from the truth. It just happens that... events have collided, as, for some reason, they always seem to. I could not have predicted that we would be able to locate you at the exact time the other sisters were planning to lay a wreath to mark the anniversary of his death.’ The smile returned to Georg’s face. ‘One could say the stars have aligned.’
‘Well, you might see it that way. I feel more like they’re ricocheting than aligning. The letter says that my mother disappeared, and that Atlas didn’t even know whether she lived or died. So I’m guessing he wouldn’t be knowing anything about me being abandoned on Father O’Brien’s doorstep?’
Georg shook his head. ‘No. Once again, I can only advise that you read the diary. For the other sisters to understand why they were adopted, they must first understand who you are.’
‘Have you heard of the Parable of the Prodigal Son, Georg?’
