Augusta slumped forward, leaning on the rail to ease the agony in her back, and watched the big trunk fall slowly, tumbling end over end through the air with the snowflakes. It hit the water with a mighty splash and went under.
A moment later it surfaced. It would float for some time, Augusta thought. The pain in her back was excruciating, and she longed to lie down, but she stayed at the rail, watching the trunk bobbing on the swell. Then it disappeared from sight.
She heard a male voice beside her. 'I thought I heard someone crying for help,' it said worriedly.
Augusta composed herself rapidly and turned to see a polite young man in a silk dressing gown and a scarf. 'It was me,' she told him, forcing a smile. 'I had a nightmare and woke myself up shouting. I came out here to clear my head.'
'Ah. Are you sure you're all right?'
'Quite sure. You're very kind.'
'Well. Good night, then.'
'Good night.'
He went back into his cabin.
Augusta looked down at the sea. In a moment she would stagger to her bed, but she wanted to look at the sea a little longer. The trunk would fill up slowly, she thought, as water squirted in through the narrow gaps. The level would rise up Micky's body inch by inch as he fought to open the trunk. When it covered his nose and mouth he would hold his breath for as long as he could. But in the end he would give a great involuntary gasp, and the cold salty sea would pour into his mouth and down his throat, filling his lungs. He would squirm and fight for a little longer, racked by pain and terror; and then his movements would become feeble and stop, everything would slowly turn black, and he would die.
Section 6
HUGH WAS DESPERATELY WEARY when at last his train pulled into Chingford station and he got off. Although he was looking forward to his bed, he stopped on the bridge over the line, at the spot where Micky had shot Tonio that morning. He took off his hat and stood there for a minute, bareheaded in the snow, remembering his friend as a boy and a man. Then he walked on.
He wondered how all this would affect the Foreign Office and their attitude to Cordova. Micky had so far evaded the police. But whether Micky was caught or not, Hugh could exploit the fact that he had witnessed the killing. Newspapers would love to publish his moment-by-moment account. The public would be outraged by a foreign diplomat committing murder in broad daylight, and members of Parliament would probably demand some kind of rebuke. The fact that Micky was the murderer might well spoil Papa Miranda's chances of getting recognized by the British government. The Foreign Office might be persuaded to support the Silva family to punish the Mirandas--and to get compensation for British investors in the Santamaria Harbor Corporation.
The more he thought about it, the more optimistic he felt.
He hoped Nora would be asleep when he got home. He did not want to hear what a miserable day she had had, stuck in this remote village with no one to help her take care of three rowdy boys. He just wanted to slip between the sheets and close his eyes. Tomorrow he would think over the events of today and figure out where they left him and his bank.
He was disappointed to see a light on behind the curtains as he walked up the garden path. That meant she was still up. He let himself in with his key and went into the front room.
He was surprised to see the three boys, all in their pajamas, sitting in a row on the sofa looking at an illustrated book.
And he was astonished to see Maisie in the middle, reading to them.
All three boys jumped up and ran to him. He hugged and kissed them one by one: Sol, the youngest; then Samuel; then eleven-year-old Toby. The younger two were simply overjoyed to see him, but there was something else in Toby's face. 'What is it, old man?' Hugh asked him. 'Something happened? Where's your mama?'
'She went shopping,' he said, and burst into tears.
Hugh put his arm around the boy and looked at Maisie.
'I got here around four o'clock,' she said. 'Nora must have gone out shortly after you.'
'She left them alone?'
Maisie nodded.
Hugh felt hot anger rise up inside him. The children had been alone here most of the day. Anything could have happened. 'How could she do that?' he said bitterly.
'There's a note.' Maisie handed him an envelope.
He opened it and read the one-word message: GOOD- BYE.
Maisie said: 'It wasn't sealed. Toby read it and showed it to me.'
'It's hard to believe,' Hugh said, but as soon as the words were out of his mouth he realized they were not true: it was all too easy to believe. Nora had always put her own wishes above everything else. Now she had abandoned her children. Hugh guessed she had gone to her father's pub.
And the note seemed to imply that she was not coming back.
He did not know what to feel.
His first duty was to the boys. It was important not to upset them any further. He set his own feelings aside for a moment. 'You boys are up very late,' he said. 'Time for bed. Let's go!'
He ushered them up the stairs. Samuel and Sol shared a room but Toby had his own bedroom. Hugh tucked the little ones in then went in to the eldest. He bent over the bed to kiss him.
'Mrs. Greenbourne's a brick,' Toby said.
'I know,' Hugh said. 'She used to be married to my best friend, Solly. Then he died.'
'She's pretty, too.'
'Do you think so?'
'Yes. Is Mama coming back?'
That was the question Hugh had been afraid of. 'Of course she is,' he said.
'Really?'
Hugh sighed. 'To tell you the truth, old man, I don't know.'
'If she doesn't, will Mrs. Greenbourne look after us?'
Trust a child to go right to the heart of the matter, Hugh thought. He evaded the question. 'She runs a hospital,' he said. 'She's got dozens of patients to take care of. I don't suppose she has time to look after boys as well. Now, no more questions. Good night.'
Toby looked unconvinced, but he let the matter drop. 'Good night, Father.'
Hugh blew out the candle and left the room, closing the door.
Maisie had made cocoa. 'I'm sure you'd prefer a brandy, but there doesn't seem to be any in the house.'
