Past Imperfect

A gentle breeze wafting across the field suddenly became more violent, bending the sheaves almost at a right angle. Their gentle threshing with the sticks was drowned out by the sound. He stood up after a moment and was clearly exposed. But the gendarmes were looking away, holding onto their caps and shielding their faces from the harsh wind stinging their eyes. He called to them, but his voice was lost among the wind and the wild rustling of the sheaves…

Dominic woke up with a start. He was sweating profusely. Outside, the wind had risen and the branches of the trees close by his window whipped back and forth. He got up and walked onto the small balcony, looking down onto the garden. There was a tall jacarandah tree close by, and its branches and leaves moved like surf rising and falling with the wind. It could be the first stages of a mistral, Dominic thought, or hopefully a small summer storm that would blow over by the morning.

Dominic's heart was pounding. He wasn't sure if it was the dream or something else that he suddenly remembered would happen the next day. A reporter from La Provencal, the area's main newspaper, had called the station that evening. Two hours later Poullain had released a statement that would no doubt appear in the paper the next morning.

The attacker would know then that the boy he had left for dead was still alive. He would feel threatened; the boy could possibly later talk and indentify him.

FIVE

When the phone call came about the accident, at first Stuart thought it was his alarm call, but it was Helena. Stuart’s clock showed 6.08am.

She was babbling and incoherent, and 'Is terrible.. so sorry,' were repeated among the jumble, along with a number he should ring for the Oceanside police who had called her just ten minutes before. Emerging from his drowsiness, Stuart tried to clarify some points, but Helena was not very forthcoming, as if she either didn't know much or didn't want to be the messenger of bad tidings. The tears and the trembling in her voice betrayed the worst.

When Stuart got through to the Oceanside police, he was asked to call back in ten minutes. 'Lieutenant Carlson has all the details for that. He should be finished with his interview then.'

After confirming his relationship as Jeremy's elder brother and Eyran's uncle and godparent, Stuart felt himself go numb as Carlson went through the catalogue of horror, as if it was a routine shopping list: 'We have one female, Caucasian, pronounced DOA at Oceanside County General. The other two occupants of the jeep, a Caucasian male and a young boy are both still in emergency. The boy was critical at one point, but he's more stable now. We're waiting on more updates. Can I ask, sir, do you know of any other relatives the victims might have here in California who we can contact?'

'No, I can't think of anyone. We're all here… here in England. We've got an uncle in Toronto, but we haven't seen him in years.' Stuart felt lame and helpless due to the distance, an image of Jeremy and Eyran cut off and alone. He knew he should be there with them.

'Can I rely on you then to make contact with your sister-in-law, Allison Capel's relatives in England.'

'Yes, yes… of course.' Stuart was still numb, trying desperately to work out how he could get out to California quickly. He'd never actually met Allison's parents, only a sister over six years ago at one of Jeremy's parties. To his side Amanda was stirring, squinting over at him quizzically.

'From identification found in the car, we have your brother's age, thirty-eight years old, but not that of your sister-in-law or the boy.''

'Allison was thirty-five, I think. Eyran was just ten years old last April.'

'What number can we reach you on to inform you of any developments?'

Stuart gave Carlson his home number then, as an afterthought. 'I'll give you my work number as well, just in case you don't hear anything from the hospital before tonight.'

But as he said the words, it suddenly hit Stuart that he couldn't possibly just sit there through those hours waiting for the phone to ring, knowing that Eyran and Jeremy were laying in hospital beds ten thousand miles away. He made the decision. 'I'm coming out there. I've been thinking about it as we've spoken. I've got to be there with them.'

'That's your prerogative, sir, but with all due respect, we might know something within the next hour or so from the hospital. They're both in emergency right now.'

'That's okay, I'll book the ticket and phone you before I leave for the airport, then again just before the flight leaves. But I've got to start making my way out there.' Amanda was sitting up now, following every word of the conversation.

'I fully understand, sir. I'll wait to hear from you.'

It took Stuart only half an hour to make all his travel arrangements, part of which was explaining the situation to an incredulous Amanda and leaving her a few vital numbers to contact. All San Diego flights routed through L.A, though there was an average four hours delay between connecting flights. The first direct flight to L.A was an American Airlines flight leaving at 10.55am from Heathrow, and from there a bus or train could take him down to Oceanside, 55 miles south of LA.

On the flight out, Stuart tried to read a magazine or a book, anything to distract him. But he just couldn't concentrate, he found himself scanning the words blindly, his thoughts still with Eyran and Jeremy, trying to read something into Carlson's bland status report on the call he'd put through just before the flight announcement. The news from the hospital was that Eyran was out of emergency and had been transferred to intensive care, and that Jeremy was still in emergency.

Stuart put down the magazine and closed his eyes briefly, knowing that sleep was hopeless, but trying to force some calm into his nerve-racked body. He let the images wash over him slowly: the night they celebrated Jeremy passing his bar exams, Jeremy helping him unload some antique timbers for the cottage, Eyran asking for a ride in the sports car he'd bought to celebrate the first major account of his new agency, the surprise on Jeremy's face when he turned up in the hospital with a half bottle of scotch in his coat pocket the night Eyran was born. 'What, no cigars?'

Eyran. So much of their lives had revolved around Eyran. He remembered now that it had been almost eight months since he'd seen Jeremy when Eyran was born; yet another futile argument that had forged a divide. As the first born of the two families, Eyran had created a bond that just wasn't there before. A simple focus of love and affection which crossed over any boundaries and past differences between himself and Jeremy. The petty arguments continued, but suddenly Eyran was an overriding force pushing them into the background.

Probably even Jeremy sensed he had become more than just an uncle, he'd stepped into the role of a second father to Eyran. The fact that he'd been unable to have children with Amanda, despite numerous tests and clinics, had intensified that bond. Eyran became like the son he could never have.

After another year of trying vainly with Amanda to have a child, they'd applied for adoption, taking Tessa as a two year old eight months later. Amanda had suggested a boy, admitting in the end that she thought Stuart had wanted a boy because of Eyran. He said that he wanted a girl because he didn't want their child seen as some sort of replacement for Eyran. They'd both told only half the truth. Stuart didn't want a child that might eclipse Eyran, perhaps dilute or distract his affection for the boy. A girl could be seen as a separate entity. Amanda had wanted any child that would return Stuart's focus to his own family, breaking what she felt had become an unnaturally close tie between himself and Eyran. He remembered Amanda's anger brimming over one day, as not for the first time he brought home two toys, suggesting that they drive over later to give Eyran his. 'Is this your idea of the perfect family, Stuart? A girl in our family and a boy in your brother's.'

Throughout, Jeremy had never shut Eyran out of their lives. He could have become jealous and guarded about the relationship, fearing that Stuart might steal some of the limelight of Eyran's love and affection. Yet he seemed to welcome it, as if he understood that somehow it fulfilled something he himself could not provide: a kinship of free spirit and shared likes and dislikes. Jeremy appeared happy in his role as guardian angel, of both of them: warning Stuart about bad business deals and investments in the same way that he would warn Eyran about climbing too high or not going near the electrical sockets. Jeremy didn't feel