Touching the Wire (23 page)

He captured her hand and
held it. ‘What for? I did attack you, and I was
a bit rough. You took me
by surprise. It was as if you thought I was going to murder you.’

Actions have
consequences.
She withdrew her hand, his
touch a gift she couldn’t accept. ‘I thought you were Robin, my husband.’

‘You’re married?’

It was an innocent enough
question. ‘We’re having a trial separation.’ She stopped herself adding,
you?
She’d caused Grandpa
pain
with an innocent question:
she didn’t want to see that look in Adam’s eyes. If he wanted her to know, he’d
tell her. And anyway…

‘You’re saying your husband
does want to kill you?’

‘No, it’s just… he has a
temper.’

Adam’s cheek muscles tensed.
‘He hurts you?’

Her fingers found the empty
place on her ring finger and twisted the non-existent band. She stared into her
wine as if the blood red liquid could colour her future with hope.  ‘It’s
not like that. He doesn’t mean… Robin’s complicated.’

 ‘You don’t have to put
up with abuse. You’ve taken the most difficult step… taken control of your own
life. Today’s the first day of the rest of your life.’

She hadn’t looked on it as a
step, difficult or otherwise, more an enforced, temporary state of existence.
‘A step to where, though?’ Divorce, or life with the husband she still loved?

‘Only you can decide where
the rest of the journey takes you. Why don’t we drink to that?’ He raised his
glass. ‘To the journey.’

She blinked a tell-tale of
moisture from her eye. ‘To the journey.’

***

Charlotte woke to the sound of singing. Robin
and Adam had chased through her dreams, leading her down dangerous roads. Adam
would be gone soon, out of her life forever. He met her in the kitchen and
moved aside to let her into the small space. The kettle puffed steam. 

‘Tea or coffee?’

‘Tea, please. Toast or
cereal?’

‘Breakfast is on the patio… well,
not literally, I hope. On the patio table. Fruit juice, cereal, and the toast
is…’ Toast popped from the ever-enthusiastic toaster. He caught it deftly, spun
on his heel and dropped it with a flourish. ‘On the plate. Take it with you.
The butter’s out there. I’ll bring the tea.’

Early morning sunshine
promised a hot day. Chairs were placed to catch the sun’s warmth; roses and
honeysuckle from the garden overflowed a jam jar and threatened to engulf the
table. She swallowed a sudden lump. She couldn’t remember anyone doing
something like this, just for her. She flipped open her mobile determinedly,
and thumbed in Robin’s number. ‘Hi, Robin.’

‘You just caught me. I’m on
my way to my second counselling session.’

‘How’s it going?’

‘It’s okay.’

‘And the anger management?’

‘Relaxation techniques…
meditation… I don’t know.’

‘
It’s
early days.’

‘I miss you, Charlotte.’

‘It won’t be forever,
Robin.’

Adam arrived with a tray, a
charity shop find. He placed the cup in front of her and passed her the milk,
spilling some on the table. ‘Sorry.’

Robin’s voice interrupted.
‘You’ve got someone there?’

‘A friend.’

‘A man?’

‘Dr Bancroft. He’s helping
me look into Grandpa’s carvings.’

‘Look, I have to go, my
appointment…’ His voice changed. ‘I’m only doing this for you, Charlotte. I’ll
speak to you soon. You can tell me all about this Dr Bancroft.’

Robin ended the call.

Adam sat beside her. ‘Sorry.
I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.’

‘I was checking on Robin.
Counselling seems to be helping.’ She smiled. ‘This is lovely, Adam.’

‘It’s a pleasure. A
broom-cupboard can get claustrophobic.’ He surveyed her across the floral
extravaganza, his expression like a puppy that needed re-homing. ‘I… I wish I
could do this for you every morning.’

‘I’m married, Adam.’ She
blinked away tears: Adam touched a need deep inside her.

‘No tears, Hellcat. Remember
the journey. It’s down to you which path you take. Today is the second day of
the rest of your life.’

She wanted there to be a
third. ‘You barely know me.’

‘You know nothing about me,
either. We can change that. I have a teenage daughter, Gabrielle. She’s in
France with her mother at the moment.’ He raised an eyebrow.  ‘Your turn.’

‘You’re married too?’

‘Effie was my partner. We
split a couple of years ago. I see Gabrielle as much as I can.’

‘That must be hard.’

‘It’s not what I wanted.’ He
shrugged. ‘Effie and I parted amicably. She’s still part of my life, but not my
future.’ His concerned smile broadened into a grin and the puppy disappeared.

Why had she encouraged him? She
wasn’t being fair: Robin needed her. She needed… she needed someone who loved
her, made her happy. Robin loved her, but could he ever make her happy, this
happy? She and Robin might be having problems but he was trying hard: she
didn’t have the right to throw herself at the first man who smiled at her. And
then there was her infertility: she wasn’t ready to slip that personal
bombshell into casual conversation.

She changed the subject. She
and Adam were non-starters: it wasn’t going to happen. ‘How long do you think
it will take us to reach Coventry?’

The bells of St Michael’s rang out across the
city. Graceful windows threw patterns of sunlight across shadowed stone paving.
Above the broken walls the new cathedral rose, blending yet contrasting: a
strong, purposeful building. 

Charlotte grabbed Adam’s
hand. ‘There, look.’

His fingers tightened around
hers. Before her, the Sanctuary windows arched against blue sky; upon the altar
stood a charred timber cross. On the wall behind the cross were the words that
had led them here:
FATHER FORGIVE
.

‘What now?’ Adam broke the
spell.

‘There’s nothing of
Grandpa’s here… Perhaps it’s in the new cathedral.’

Adam released her hand, as
if only now realising he was holding it. ‘Let’s go and see.’

A hushed awe pervaded the
nave of the new building; saints and angels danced on gossamer wings in a
filigree of delicate movement. Before them a window blazed, a glory of coloured
light. Her footsteps echoed as she moved past the plain stone walls holding
their massive Tablets of the Word.
Come unto me… I am the word…
She
swivelled on her heel and the zigzag walls all but disappeared, giving way
instead to columns of rainbow-coloured light. ‘Wow.’

The austere splendour of the
interior had not given up its secret. Perhaps, whatever it was, it was no
longer here. Ahead, a plaque caught her attention.

The Chapel of
Unity is a star-shaped structure signifying the unity of the world.

Through the doorway, tall
splinters of white and coloured sunlight flooded the space from all sides. It
was as if God, or Grandpa’s gods, flooded her heart with truth, blessing
Tykhe’s gift of happiness: if she had only this
one
day with Adam.

His breath was warm on her
cheek. ‘The stained glass is a gift from churches in Germany.’

‘It’s beautiful.’

Two candles burned beside
the central altar.
Hair of innocents: candles to burn eternally in their
memory
.
An arrangement of white peace lilies and blood red roses graced
one alcove. Opposite, on a narrow table, stood flames of destruction: the
Flames of Hell.

Adam’s hand rested on her
shoulder. ‘You were right, another carving.’

Christian
faiths from around the world joined together to build The Chapel of Unity after
the bombing and the destruction of the old cathedral by fire in 1940. The
Flames of Hope, given on a ninety-nine year loan by W Blundell, England, in
1978, symbolise purification, and the rising of new hope and friendship from
the ashes of enmity and despair.

She ran her fingers over the
carving, feeling the connection. ‘COU. The initials on the back of the
quotation in the Mason and Hargreaves carving.’

‘Chapel of Unity.’

She smiled and turned to
face him. ‘Grandpa would have liked you, Adam.’

He stroked her cheek with
the crook of a finger and moved it gently beneath her chin, tilting her head.
His lips met hers… soft, passionate: her body moulded to his. Shocks of longing
arced through her.

‘The next service starts at
a quarter-past five. Please feel free to join us in worship.’

She pulled away: a child
caught with her hand in the sweetie jar. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment
as she looked into the brown eyes of a balding, elderly man. Her eyes strayed
back to the flames. ‘We came looking for this.’

‘Our Flames of Hope. It’s a
beautiful piece.’

‘I’m Charlotte Masters,
Walter Blundell’s granddaughter. This is… Dr Adam Bancroft.’

The man held out his hand in
greeting. ‘Charles Bowyer, a Canon of the Cathedral. I’m pleased to meet you.
You must be very proud. Have you not seen it before?’

Adam shook the Canon’s hand.
‘We weren’t sure it existed. I work at the Imperial War Museum. We have one of
Mr Blundell’s carvings on loan at Duxford, and Miss Masters has two more,
similar to this one.’

‘I had no idea there were
more. That’s quite a leap of faith, searching for something you didn’t know
existed. It seems God guided your steps to the right place.’

Adam took a number of photos
from his wallet, among them pictures of the other carvings, and showed them to
the Canon. ‘Your carving is one of a set. We feel strongly that we need to
reunite this one, if only temporarily, with its sisters.’

‘As I understand it, the
carving is here on permanent loan.’

‘Ninety-nine years.’

‘Quite.’

‘We need to ascertain its purpose.’

‘Purpose, Dr Bancroft? What
higher purpose is there than giving hope in a troubled world, and following
God’s will?’

‘It may be that my
grandfather’s will
is
the will of God, Canon.’ She’d talked to Grandpa,
and read enough since to understand his view of religion. The canon would frown
on Tykhe and the daughters of Night. How could she convince him? ‘This was
carved for a reason… It is only on loan…’

Adam shot her a warning
glance. ‘I’m sorry, Canon, we haven’t explained ourselves very well. I have the
details with me.’

‘You’d better come to the
office.’ The Canon led them through the cathedral and opened a small door she
hadn’t noticed. ‘Sit down, please. I have to tell you this is not my decision
to make. The Chapel of Unity is fully ecumenical. It’s administered by the
Churches Together in Coventry and Warwick. If you tell me more, I can judge to
whom it would be best to pass your enquiry.’

Fully ecumenical? She
suppressed a smile; had Grandpa thought that included Greek goddesses? She went
through the events, from the finding of the first carving to the litany and
drawing that had led them here.

‘That’s quite a story.’

‘The Imperial War Museum
would have an interest in mounting an exhibition of all the carvings, a
travelling exhibition, perhaps. This would be a wonderful venue. If you have
any information regarding the Flames of Hope…’ 

The Canon pursed his lips.
‘You might find something in the city archives.’

Adam leaned forward. ‘Where
are they kept?’

‘John Sinclair House, in the
Canal Basin.’

She looked at her watch. ‘We
have a couple of hours.’

The Canon smiled.
‘Unfortunately, I haven’t. I have other duties and this is outside my remit.
I’ll pass your name and telephone number to a colleague of mine. He’ll be able
to help you further.’   

It was late when they
arrived home. Charlotte unlocked the door and the cottage enfolded her once
more. She switched on the light and drew the curtains, shutting the night, the
past and the future outside. Adam was here
now
. ‘Coffee or a glass of
wine?’

He drew her closer, tangling
her hair in his fingers. Their lips met, leaving her breathless.

She pushed him away. ‘Adam…’

‘I love you, Charlotte. I
know we’ve only just met but I feel as if I’ve always known you.’

‘Adam, I can’t. Robin…’

‘Does he make you happy?’

‘It’s not that simple.’

‘Life isn’t simple. Hard
decisions have to be made. You said so yourself.’

‘Did I?’ She wanted nothing
more than to be held, loved. Adam’s grey eyes pleaded: Robin’s dark brown eyes
overlaid the grey. She shook her head. ‘Robin needs me.’

‘So why are you here with
me?’

‘You know why.’

‘You can’t live in fear of
the man you’re married to.’ Adam’s voice was gentle. ‘Fear is no basis for a
lasting relationship. This is
your
life… you don’t get a second chance
at it.’

She slumped onto the sofa,
her head in her hands. ‘I know… I’m so confused… so tired of fighting… trying
to do what’s right. Robin, the carvings… you…’

The sofa springs moved.
Adam’s hand rested on her forearm. ‘You don’t have to fight me. No pressure, not
now, not ever. I know this is hard. I also know what it means to lose someone
you love. Robin may not deserve you, but if he loves you…’

‘I think he does… I don’t
know anymore.’ Her finger traced the scar on his cheek. ‘I wish I’d met you
years ago, before I met Robin.’

‘I…’ He rested his hands in
his lap and stared at them. ‘Only you can decide if Robin is worth fighting
for, but… I had to let Effie go. It wouldn’t have worked. If the love is
one-sided…’ He glanced towards the sleeping bag and airbed, half-hidden behind
the sofa, but made no move to pull them out. ‘I don’t mind if you want to go to
bed.’

She wanted him to go with
her, to feel for herself the heaven his kiss had promised.

He picked up one end of the
sleeping bag. ‘I shall have to make an early start to miss the traffic.’

‘I…’

He began to unroll it. ‘I’ll sleep here…’

‘Adam…’

He dropped it and took her
in his arms. ‘I want you so much.’

‘It’s not…’ Her words came
out in a sob. ‘I
can’t
.’

He held her head against his
shoulder and stroked her hair. ‘It’s okay. It’s okay.’

***

The BMW roared into life. Adam waved to
Charlotte, standing in the doorway of Sunnybank, and headed home. Unwilling to
face an empty flat, he made for the IWM and Roger. He was waiting in his colleague’s
office when Roger rolled into work twenty-five minutes late.

‘Accident on the M25.’ Roger
dumped his car keys on his desk. ‘I thought you were going to ring me.’

‘I was. Have you had the
Duxford carving back from the restorers?’

‘I’m very well and coping
magnificently without you, thank you for asking.’

‘Sorry.’

‘You have the look of a man
with either bike or woman trouble. If it’s got tits or wheels it’ll give you
grief.’

‘I’m missing her already.’

‘The lovely Charlotte, I presume?
You have got it bad.’ Roger fetched a box from a shelf. ‘Here it is.’

‘They’ve done a brilliant
job. I’ll get it back to Duxford this morning. With luck I shall at least still
have my job.’

‘So, you and Charlotte?’

‘It’s complicated.’

‘Women are. You should know
that by now.’

‘I think we could have
something good going.’

‘But?’

‘She’s married… husband has
a temper. They’re having a trial separation.’

‘And has he been convicted
during this trial?’

‘The jury’s still out.’ He
yawned. He hadn’t slept much after Charlotte had gone to bed, alone.

‘Are you planning to ride to
Duxford in that state?’

‘I’ll grab a shower and pick
up the other two carvings from home. I’ll be fine.’

Roger put a fatherly hand on
his shoulder. ‘Don’t let what Effie did spoil this for you.’

Adam rode through London to
his broom-cupboard. It wasn’t his idea of home: home was somewhere you shared
with those who loved you. Roger’s advice was sound, but that didn’t make
trusting any easier. Effie had hurt him: he’d caught her in bed with his best
friend. The relationship hadn’t lasted but he’d lost her, his friend and, for a
while, his daughter. He could have taken Effie back: she’d asked, for
Gabrielle’s sake. He’d loved them both enough to consider it, but it wouldn’t
have been a relationship founded on mutual love and trust. He’d faced the fact
that he couldn’t make Effie happy and let her go. He wouldn’t let her ruin his
future… as Charlotte appeared to be prepared to let Robin ruin hers. It wasn’t
his call, he had to abide by Charlotte’s decision, but he couldn’t imagine a
future without his hellcat.

***

Charlotte reached for the phone, heart
thumping. She calmed herself with deep breaths. It wasn’t Adam’s number or
Robin’s. ‘Charlotte Masters speaking.’

‘Ah yes… Miss Masters, this
is Henry Charles, secretary of the Joint Council of Trustees, administrators of
the Chapel of Unity at Coventry Cathedral. Canon Bowyer passed your details to
me? I’ve been looking into the conditions that apply to your grandfather’s loan
of the Flames of Hope. I take it you still want to remove it?’

‘Yes. Thank you for phoning,
Mr Charles. I have proof of ownership…’

‘It was sent to us on loan
for ninety-nine years… we are to return it to Harris, Harris and Mason in
Northampton.’

‘I expected that to be the
case. Mr Mason will confirm that the carving is now the property of my
grandmother. I have authority to act on her behalf.’ She pushed back her hair.
She’d been awake half the night. She couldn’t think straight. ‘I’m sorry, Mr Charles,
but I can’t say when I’ll be able to get back to Coventry.’

‘Perhaps I could contact Mr
Mason direct to confirm what you’ve told me, and arrange to post the carving?’

‘That would be fantastic.
Can I ring you back with his phone number, Mr Charles?’

‘Yes, of course. I shall be
here until five-thirty.’