This is the best part. He had known where Liza was for years – through his contacts in the police, probably, or some kind of private investigator. The irony was that he had wanted her to stay away from him as much as she had wanted to stay away. He said his mother had told Liza the child was dead, partly because at that point they thought it might be true, and partly out of spite. Then when they discovered that Liza had disappeared, they’d decided it might be useful to let her believe it, that it would be an easy way to have her out of their lives. She was a loose cannon, a threat to his career and his future, an obstacle to his happiness with the elegant, dark-haired Deborah. And they had what they wanted. He had the grace, she said, to look a little ashamed. He wanted proper access, he said, the kind of man who at least wants to behave as if he still has control of a situation, and Monica told him he could have his access – as much as his daughter wanted.
Then, accompanied by a lawyer and with a child psychologist at the ready (Mike’s sister was a little afraid by then, never having dealt with children herself), they went to the house to tell Letty she was going on holiday. It was quick. We worried later that it was too quick, given the shock that the girl experienced on being told that her mother had not abandoned her, after all. But, sounding as unsure as Mike had ever heard her, Monica admitted that until they left the drive, she had been afraid Villiers would change his mind.
There were so many lies that Letty would have to learn to disbelieve, so many secrets. Mike’s sister said she was a bright kid, that she wanted to know everything. It was night-time there now, and they were letting her sleep, but in the morning, our evening, Monica would ring us and, after five years, Liza would be able to speak to her. Her younger daughter, her baby, risen from the dead.
I saw the light on in the Whalechasers Museum as I let Milly out for her last walk of the night, and I guessed pretty quickly who it might be. I don’t bother locking it half the time – there’s nothing of monetary value in it to steal, and Milly would let us know if strangers headed up here when they shouldn’t.
Liza and Hannah were upstairs making their telephone call and they needed to be alone, so I grabbed a couple of beers and went out there. He was probably feeling like I was, a bit of a spare part. This was Hannah and Liza’s time. We could be happy for them, overjoyed even, but in truth, not yet knowing Letty, we could only ever feel a fraction of what they did. Being in that house while that conversation was going on upstairs felt intrusive, like listening in on someone’s love affair.
Besides, I was curious about what Liza had told me the previous day, before her whole world had changed again – about the possibility that the development might not go ahead. It was nothing certain, she said, and she was not meant to tell anyone until it was confirmed. But she said it was down to Mike and then, her face darkening, she said that he would be leaving for good tomorrow and after that she wouldn’t say much at all.
He didn’t hear me at first. He was sitting on one of Maui II’s rotten timbers, one hand resting on it, and his shoulders were stooped, as if he were carrying a great weight. Given what he had achieved, it seemed an odd stance.
Milly shot in past me, wagging her way to him, and he glanced up. ‘Oh. Hi,’ he said. He was almost directly under the strip-lights, and they cast long shadows on his face.
‘Thought you might like this.’ I held out a beer to him. As he took it I sat down on the chair a few feet away and cracked one open myself.
‘Not like you,’ he said.
‘Nothing normal about today,’ I said.
We sat and drank in companionable silence. The barn doors were open, and through them, in the near dark, we could see the shoreline, the distant lights of people’s cars, of fishermen’s boats preparing for their night’s work. The gentle, humdrum life of Silver Bay pottering on, as it had done for half a century. I still couldn’t believe what I’d been told – that it was possible Mike could pull us back from the brink. I couldn’t believe that we might be allowed to stand, undisturbed, for a little longer.
‘Thank you,’ I said, quietly. ‘Thank you, Mike.’
He looked up from his beer.
‘For everything. I don’t understand how you’ve done it all, but thank you.’
His head dropped again then, and I knew something was wrong. The dark, contemplative expression on his face suggested that he was not out here to give Liza space: he was out here because he had needed to be alone.
I sat and waited. I’ve been around long enough to know you catch a hell of a lot more fish by keeping still and quiet.
‘I don’t want to leave,’ he said, ‘but it’s the only way I can stop the development.’
‘I’m not sure I understand . . .’
‘There was a choice . . . and I couldn’t make it hers. She’s had to make too many hard decisions already.’
He was holding so much to him, I swear he could hardly move.
‘I want you to know this, Kathleen. Whatever you might hear in the future, whatever you hear about me, it’s important she knows she was loved.’ His eyes were burning into me. Their intensity made me a little uncomfortable.
‘I don’t want you to think badly of me,’ he said, choking, ‘but I made a promise . . .’
‘You really can’t tell me what any of this is about?’
He shook his head.
I didn’t like to push him. Call me old-fashioned, but I think a man becomes physically uncomfortable if you make him talk too much about what he’s feeling.
‘Mike,’ I said finally, ‘you saved Liza. You saved both my girls. That’s all I need to know.’
‘She’ll be happy, right?’ He wouldn’t look at me now. I had a bad feeling about why that might be.
‘She’ll be okay. She’ll have her girls.’
He stood up and walked slowly round the room, his back to me. I realised then how sorry I was that he was going. Whatever wrongs he had done us, he had put right in spades and then some. I’m no great romantic – Lord knows, Nino Gaines could tell you that – but when it came to him and Liza I had hoped for a happy ending. I knew now that he was a decent human being and there are few enough around. I would have told him as much, but I wasn’t sure who would be more embarrassed.
He stopped in front of my Shark Lady picture. When I sensed he might be a little more comfortable with proximity, I raised myself out of my chair and walked over to join him.