A Good Catch Part 23

Jesse strode through the busy fish market, full now of Alfie's iced and boxed catch, shouting greetings to the customers he knew. 'Don't touch Alfie's lot. Mine's unloaded in a minute. It's the best catch Trevay's ever seen.' Laughter followed him to the small office in the corner of the market. He knocked on the door and walked in without waiting for an answer. His father was sitting clutching a cup of coffee. His face was strained but he looked relieved when he saw Jesse.

Jesse was scared. 'What's the matter, Dad? Is it Mum?'

'No. Not Mum. It's Grant.'

Jesse's mind's eye flew to a scene in a hot desert where the bodies of British soldiers lay mutilated. Blood seeping into the dust and sand. He could see his brother lying wounded, lifeless ... and he felt a surge of relief. Grant, the only person who might know something about him and Loveday, was dead.

'What's happened, Dad?'

'He's in trouble.'

Relief left Jesse, to be replaced by guilt that he could possibly have felt so good about his brother dying.

'Trouble for what?'

'We're not sure of the details. Someone from his base is coming to see us this morning. Your mum wants you there.'

'Of course. Can I unload the boat first?'

'No. Leave it. I'll get the lads to do it. Your mum's in bits.'

The officer from 42 Commando spared none of the details.

'It would appear that your son formed an attachment with a local girl whilst on deployment. Her family tried to stop her from seeing him and he went to the family home where he attacked her father. Her father is currently in a British field hospital and in a coma. The medical team are deciding whether to evacuate him to a hospital here in the UK.'

Jan pulled her crumpled tissue through her fingers, too shocked to weep. 'Are you sure Grant did it?'

'We have witnesses who would appear to be reliable.'

'But Grant has wanted to be a Marine since he was little. He worked so hard for his green beret. Why would he risk everything he loved?'

The officer, looking embarra.s.sed, pulled at the sleeves of his immaculate uniform. 'His commanding officer has had previous cause to be concerned about Private Behenna's att.i.tude. It was only a matter of time before he was facing a lot of trouble.'

Jan stared at him from her dry eyes. 'But he had been brave, hadn't he? He told us he'd been on a raid against the bad men he always called them the bad men and had saved his friend's life.'

The officer coughed and crossed his feet, his gleaming boots winking like mirrors.

'Ah.'

'That's what he told us.'

'Private Behenna has not been on active duty in the field. His unpredictable behaviour caused serious concern that he might be a danger to other men; he has been confined to base for some time. There seems little veracity to the story he has told you.'

'You mean it's not true?'

'I couldn't comment; I am sure his commanding officer will be able to give you more information.'

Jan's heartbroken face spoke clearly of her pain. 'He's always been a liar. Ever since he was a little boy.'

Edward, sitting next to her at the old kitchen table, put his arm around her. 'Jan, let's get him home and then we'll know more.'

The officer shuffled his feet again. 'When he returns to the UK he'll be held at the barracks until his court martial.'

Jan stood up so fast that she knocked the chair over behind her. Her voice rose in an ascending scale. 'Court martial?'

'Yes. I know this must come as a terrible shock to you.'

Now Jan's tears came thick and fast, in a torrent that made her breathing difficult. Jesse went to her and held her as tightly as he could. She pressed her face into his dirty fis.h.i.+ng smock and allowed Jesse to absorb the shock waves of her sobs.

The officer stood. 'I very much regret having to make this visit.' He took a card from an inside pocket of his jacket and handed it to Edward. 'Here are my details if you need any more information. I'll endeavour to be of a.s.sistance in any way I can.'

Edward took the card and placed it on the kitchen table, not knowing what to do next.

'I'll see myself out,' said the officer.

Edward went on a bender like no other. He sat in a dark corner of the Golden Hind, rebuffing all overtures from friends and colleagues, and drank solidly and efficiently until Pete, the landlord, refused to serve him any more.

'You've had enough, mate,' he said, taking the pint gla.s.s from his hand.

'Not yet,' Edward replied thickly. 'I don't think I'll ever have had enough.' He left the pub and, after deciding that he wasn't going home, he staggered up to the sheds and let himself into his old office. It was dusty from misuse, but he quickly laid his hands on the litre-bottle of Scotch he always kept hidden for emergencies. This was an emergency.

Jan had gone to bed, leaving Jesse not knowing quite what to do.

He needed to go home and get his head round what was happening. If Grant was found guilty, he could go away for a few years. If he knew anything about Jesse and Loveday, that secret would be locked up with him. Despite himself, and the evident distress all of this was causing his parents, Jesse felt a shot of elation.

'Mum?' He stuck his head round her bedroom door. 'Mum. You awake?'

His mother didn't answer. Shock had closed her down and she was in a deep sleep.

Jesse wrote a note and left it by her pillow. It said Mum, You're sleeping and I need to get home. Give me a call when you wake up.

Love you Jesse.

The late afternoon suns.h.i.+ne surprised Jesse. He was expecting it to be much later. Had it been only this morning that all this had unfolded? He walked back to the harbour and hesitated outside the Golden Hind. Should he go in and join his father? He had no doubts he was in there already. He was tempted, but decided he needed a clear head to think over what had happened.

He pa.s.sed the Hind and turned left into the lane where Pencil Cottage stood. The small front courtyard was merry with spring flowers, basking in the late suns.h.i.+ne. Greer had been doing a distance-learning certificate in garden design; she had planted up dozens of terracotta pots of differing sizes with daffodils, blue hyacinths and cherry blossom trees. Their scent, and the news of his brother's downfall, made Jesse almost cheerful.

'I'm sorry to say it, but your brother is a horrible person,' said Greer, swinging Freddie into his high chair and popping his pelican bib round his neck.

'Yeah, but can you believe he would hurt someone so badly that he'd put them in a coma?' asked Jesse, pa.s.sing the bowl of freshly made broccoli gratin to her.

'Yes I can,' she retorted, before turning her attention to Freddie. 'Freddie, it's your favourite! Mummy's made you yummy broccoli.'

'No,' said Freddie, turning his head away. 'For Daddy.'

'Come on, Fred, it'll make you big and strong. Just like Daddy.'

Freddie pointed at Jesse. 'Daddy, for you.'

Greer pushed a spoonful of the supper into Freddie's mouth and watched as it came smoothly out again. 'Come on, Freddie. This is silly, and Mummy's not having any nonsense.'

Freddie put his pudgy hands over his eyes and blew a raspberry.

'Let me help,' said Jesse, trying not to laugh. 'You go and watch a bit of telly, or do your nails or whatever it is you'd like to do.'

'I do need to finish the last module on planting a fruit garden,' she said, looking defeated.

'Well, off you go then, and I'll look after Littl'un.'

As soon as Greer had gone, Jesse shut the kitchen door and smiled conspiratorially at Freddie. 'Want some ketchup on this?' Freddie nodded gleefully whilst putting a finger to his lips and saying, 'SShhh. Mummy no.'

'Our little secret, son. And with a bit of luck she'll never know.'

For the next few weeks, the local press were full of gossip about Grant, and all and sundry came out of the woodwork to sell their lurid stories about him. Local girls gave kiss-and-tells about his bedroom exploits, and so-called friends from school said how they'd always known he was a wrong 'un.

During that time, Jan was too ashamed to show her face outside of the house while Edward, by contrast, spent even more time in the pub.

One day at the Behenna and Clovelly offices, Bryn rounded on Jesse.

'When is that father of yours going to stop drowning his sorrows in the bottom of a pint gla.s.s and get back to work? We're running a business here.'

Jesse balked at the suggestion that the catches were suffering. He and Spencer had been holding the fort admirably; if anything, their yields had been up the last few weeks since Jesse had taken the helm.

'You've got no gripes with the catches, Bryn?'

Bryn looked patronisingly at his son-in-law. 'Ain't a case of gripes, but it don't look good, your dad not turning up to meetings. People are talking.'

'Then your job is to shut them up. He's your partner, ain't he?' Jesse said firmly.

Bryn pursed his lips tightly at this unwanted defiance from his son-in-law. 'Now look 'ere-'

'No, you listen to me, Bryn. You might think that you bought me and that you bought my dad too, but what you really bought is the Behenna family. And we're strong.' He took a step closer to his father-in-law. 'You're going to give my dad an official leave of absence and I'll take a seat on the board till he's better.'

'I'm not sure that the shareholders-'

Jesse lowered his voice dangerously. 'You'll tell the shareholders what I tell you to, Bryn. Otherwise, word might start getting around that not only are you knocking off Monica and Doreen from the club, but also that you've been pa.s.sing off second-grade fish as premium to one of your big clients. Where would your precious shareholder confidence be then, Bryn?'

Bryn's face drained of colour and his voice was tremulous. 'Jesse, that's blackmail.'

'Come off it, Bryn, no need to be dramatic. Just call in the shareholders and we'll all get back to business. Catching and selling fish.' He gave Bryn a c.o.c.ky grin and a friendly clap on the back.

The following week, Jesse was installed on the board by a unanimous vote.

Edward pulled himself together eventually, but Jesse never relinquished his seat on the board.

It took almost six months for Grant to be found guilty of a.s.sault. He was sentenced to eight years. His mother was never the same.

23.

September 1998 Greer couldn't help the tears as she bent to straighten Freddie's school tie.

'You've got your lunch box?' she asked him, pointing at his school bag, which looked enormous hanging from his narrow shoulders.

'Yes,' he said.

'I'll be waiting here when you're finished.'

'Right here? By the gate?'

'Yes, right here by the gate.'

'Will Daddy come?'

'Yes, he should be back by then. You'll have lots to tell him.'

Freddie looked so smart in his new uniform. Exactly the way she remembered Jesse on their first day at school. St.u.r.dy legs sticking out of his grey shorts and bruises all down his s.h.i.+ns. 'Two peas in a pod,' her father-in-law was fond of saying.

Freddie fidgeted under her gaze then pointed behind her. 'There's Hal!' Then he shouted, 'Hal!'

Hal was walking fast, his hands holding the edge of the double buggy as Loveday had taught him. 'Can I see Freddie?' he asked his mum, who was looking ragged with the stress of getting all three children dressed in time to drop Hal for the school bell.

'Just wait till we cross the road,' she said, looking both ways and then heading towards Greer.

'Morning, Loveday,' Greer said as she kissed her friend's cheek. 'How are you?'

'Knackered. The girls got me up at half five and Hal insisted on making his own lunch box.' She turned to Freddie. 'Hiya, Fred. All ready for your first day?'

'I've got houmous and crudites in my lunch box.'