Comes the Dark Stranger - Jack Higgins [7]
She spoke sharply, breaking into his reverie. ‘And now I think you’d better tell me why you’ve come here, Mr Shane.’
He shrugged. ‘I was Simon’s best friend. We joined up together, we fought together. I simply wanted to talk to your father about him.’
She frowned and there was a touch of impatience in her voice. ‘Simon was killed seven years ago, Mr Shane. You’ve certainly taken your time about calling to offer your condolences.’
He glanced up at her quickly, and his face was completely expressionless. ‘I’m sorry about that, but I’m afraid I’d no choice.’
There was a moment of silence and she frowned. ‘No choice? What on earth are you talking about?’
He got to his feet and moved past her until he was almost standing under the curtain of rain, and his eyes looked out across the garden into the past. ‘I’ve been in an institution for the past six years, Miss Faulkner. They only released me three days ago.’
Her breath hissed sharply between her teeth, and he continued, without turning round. ‘Just after your brother was killed I was wounded myself. Shrapnel in the brain. The Chinese got most of it out, but there was one tiny fragment they couldn’t touch. It gradually induced progressive amnesia. By the time I was repatriated, I couldn’t remember my name. Couldn’t even look after myself properly.’ He shrugged. ‘They put me into an institution. There was nothing else they could do. Any operation was out of the question.’
He was conscious of her hand on his arm, and when he turned, the dark eyes were warm with sympathy. ‘How terrible. But you said they released you a few days ago?’
He nodded briefly. ‘That’s right. I fell downstairs a month ago and sustained severe concussion. Apparently the shrapnel moved. After nearly seven years of living in a fog, I woke up in hospital one morning feeling as good as new.’ He grinned somberly. ‘The only trouble was that it was June 1952 as far as I was concerned. They had to fill me in on quite a few things.’
There was sudden understanding in her voice. ‘I see it all now. The last thing you remember was Simon being killed in the fighting before you were wounded yourself. That’s why you came today. To tell us about it.’
He dropped his cigarette into a puddle of water and watched it fizzle out, a slight frown on his brow. After a while he sighed, and turned and looked directly into her face. ‘You’re right except for one important fact.’
She frowned in puzzlement. ‘I’m afraid I don’t understand.’
He leaned back against the window and said calmly, ‘I mean that you’ve got it all wrong, Miss Faulkner. You see, your brother wasn’t killed in action.’
3
THERE was a look of complete astonishment on Laura Faulkner’s face. For a moment she stared blankly at him and then she frowned. ‘I’d prefer to discuss this in complete privacy. I’ve put my father to bed, but he’s perfectly capable of walking in on us at any moment.’
Shane nodded, and she led the way across the room and out into the hall. They passed along a narrow corridor into the kitchen, and she picked up an old raincoat and threw it carelessly over her shoulders.
‘I’m afraid you’re going to get wet again,’ she said, and opened the back door.
The garden fell in several terraces to a low stone wall and a large, wooden hut raised several feet above the ground on stilts. Laura Faulkner ran along the path, her head lowered against the rain, and Shane followed her. They mounted a flight of steps leading to the platform on which the hut was supported, and she opened the door and led the way in.
The far wall of the hut was one great glass window that looked out over a deep valley, through which the river ran towards the town. The view was magnificent. As Shane walked forward there was a menacing growl, and a superb black Dobermann, sprawled across a divan by the window, raised its head and regarded him suspiciously.