He read the letter back. It was short and dour, but it said what it needed to say. If they were smart and read between the lines, they would understand that he had been lied to since birth and hopefully they would perceive the myriad of implications that came together with that revelation.
With the pen still poised in his hand, he decided to write another letter. Dear Margaret, Well, my silent English friend, since my last letter things have gone from bad to worse. Friday I got into a terrible row with dad and we ended up yelling at each other. I blurted out what I knew about his past. He beat me real bad and I ended up in hospital. I’ve got a broken nose and I’m pretty bruised up. Margaret, I wish you would write me back—I could sure use your advice right now. Dad told Mom I got beat up at school, so she’s being nice at the moment—I wonder whose side she would take, though, if she knew the truth… I don’t know what to do next, now that I’ve blown the lid off it—Dad and I aren’t even talking—he only speaks to me when Mom’s around. I don’t know how much more I can take of it. What should I do, Margaret? I wish I could just get on a plane and head back to you in Folkestone. Do you miss me at all? If you get this, Margaret, I sure would appreciate a response. Yours, Jack xx
Jack looked at the letter and, for the first time, felt slightly foolish. What was he thinking? She clearly didn’t want to have anything to do with him anymore. In his current frame of mind, he was half-tempted to shred the letter, just like the first one that he had written to his grandparents. But no, he decided that he would send it.
He looked at the clock: he still had a couple of hours before Alice would return. Placing the two letters on the bed, he climbed out of the sleeping bag and dressed. He used the bathroom, picked up the letters and left the dorm.
Having posted both the letters off, Jack crossed the city on the T line to Boston University Central, then strode across the open courtyard of Marsh Plaza, a nostalgic familiarity from his brief spell studying here guiding him to the correct building on the campus.
He bound up several flights of stairs until he reached Laura’s bedroom. He knocked on the door and waited, unsure of exactly what he would say when—if—she answered.
Following a rattle of metal behind the door, it opened.
‘Oh my God! What are you doing here?’ Laura asked, throwing her arms around him.
He held her tightly, not expecting such a warm welcome. She felt strangely good in his arms. ‘Passing by, thought I’d call in, make sure you’re working hard.’
Laura broke their embrace and frowned at him suspiciously. ‘Wait. What happened to your nose?’
‘Long story. Got time for a hot chocolate?’
‘Absolutely. Wait there and I’ll go get my purse.’
Laura led them to a new coffee shop that had sprung up on Commonwealth Avenue. They carried their drinks to a small table close to the window.
Jack watched her as she wound the spoon slowly around her mug. She had changed in some subtle way since she had left the Cape six months ago. It wasn’t her appearance—she was wearing a pair of bell-bottomed jeans and a light-yellow top—both of which he had seen before. Something in her face was different. Maturity? A sparkle of confidence, perhaps?
She caught him staring and smiled. ‘What?’
‘Nothing,’ Jack said, flushing with inexplicable embarrassment.
‘Come on then, let’s hear this long story. As long as it’s finished before classes start again on Monday, that is.’
Jack took a sip of his drink then began to relay the whole story. Given Laura’s reactions, akin to Alice’s, her father had evidently told her nothing of his and his colleagues’ discoveries. He told her about the letter that he had just posted to his grandparents in San Francisco, feeling a peculiar sense of guilt at not mentioning the letter that he had also sent to Margaret.
‘And how’s the job going? Is my dad a better employer than Rory McCoy?’ Laura asked with a grin.
‘You know what, he’s been good to me,’ Jack answered. ‘Really good. You’re lucky to have him as your dad.’
‘I know. When I was younger I used to get embarrassed by him—he wasn’t like my friends’ dads.’ She sipped her drink and smiled at him. ‘I used to look at your dad and wish mine were more like him.’
‘Really?’
‘Yeah. A normal job, a normal car, a normal house. Just, normal, you know? But now I love my dad’s eccentricities.’
‘Funny,’ Jack began, ‘I would have called my dad normal too, but he’s anything but that…I just don’t know him, Laura. Who is this local businessman war-hero that raised me? Is he even a good man?’
Laura leant over and placed her hand on his. ‘You’ll find out—I know you will.’
Jack curled his fingers into hers, enjoying the warmth of her grasp. ‘Anyway, let’s talk about something else. How are you getting on here? When are you coming back? The semester ended ages ago and you’re still attending classes?’ Jack sat back and listened to Laura. The husk of shyness had gone and she now spoke with a soft self-assurance.
An hour later, it was time for Jack to leave. He walked Laura back to her room.
‘Well, thanks for dropping in, Jack—it was so lovely to see you.’
‘You too,’ he said. ‘Let me know as soon as you return to the Cape.’
‘I will. Take care with all your investigations, won’t you?’
