Jake stared at Martha, comfortably ensconced between Aubrey and William in the lineup. He really didn’t care which of them had known each other all those years ago. What mattered to Jake was that these photos explained something. On his visitto see Arnold and Martha, he’d had a distinct sensation of déjà vu; he’d been to Cedar Grove before as a child. The fact that his parents had known Martha explained why he’d visited there as a child. She must have been living there for many years. It was a question he felt like putting to Arnold – how long had she been here?
Marcus said, ‘I don’t get it – where’s this kid, Ralph’s, father?’
‘Perhaps he was taking the photos?’ suggested Jake.
Marcus shook his head. ‘No, I don’t think so. I thinkhewas taking the photos!’ Marcus handed over another photo, surprising Jake that he had held one of them back until now.
On the back was the nameRalph.
Jake scratched his head. ‘Okay, I’m really confused now.’
‘Take a look.’ Marcus said nonchalantly.
Jake flipped the photo over. He looked up at Marcus.
Marcus shrugged and said, ‘He was always full of surprises.’
It was a photo of Aubrey, standing on the lawn in the sunshine, one hand tucked neatly in the front pocket of his suit jacket. The other held a cigarette with which he was pointing at something or someone out of camera frame and smiling broadly.
Jake put the photo of Aubrey back in the envelope with the others. Aubrey had always been vague when it came to his past, his background before meeting William, so this piece of news didn’t surprise Jake in the least. Especially since he had already found out, courtesy of the British police, that Aubrey Jones did not exist. So, Jake finally knew his real name – Ralph.
Jake opened the car door.
‘Where are you going?’
‘I’m still giving these back.’ Jake put one foot on the gravel drive.
‘But isn’t it odd? There’s a photo of some kid called Ralph, and he’s called Ralph too?’ Marcus snatched the envelopes out of Jake’s hand.
‘Just what do you think you’re doing?’ Jake turned to see Marcus opening the passenger side door.
‘I want to find out more about these, and I wouldn’t mind knowing just who Aubrey Jones is – for real.’ Marcus got out.
‘Look, I feel the same. Give them here. I’m going back in.’ He glared at Marcus. ‘On my own.’
Chapter 42
Jake hesitated before entering. He wasn’t exactly relishing seeing Martha or telling Arnold that he couldn’t really be of help. But at least he could hand the photos back. With that thought, Jake walked in and immediately stopped, stunned.
‘I take it you’ve been here before.’ A deep throaty male voice came from a heavily-built guy in a blue uniform, who was sitting behind a long, low desk spanning the width of the hallway. ‘It always takes people by surprise,’ his smooth deep baritone voice continued. ‘But like I said, they wouldn’t listen – board of trustees always get their way.’ He made a clucking sound with his tongue, noting disapproval.
‘You mean the …?’ Jake twirled his finger in the air, still getting over the shock of seeing all that beautiful mahogany wood he had been admiring only the previous day now whitewashed along with the walls. He blinked hard, wondering if it was all in his head and Marcus was right – that he did need to check himself in.
‘Scandalous, isn’t it? You’re not the first to walk in here and get a shock, I can tell you. And you won’t be the last.’
Jake was relieved to hear it. ‘It looks so – clinical.’
‘You know, I said the exact same thing.’ He leaned forwardand pointed a finger at Jake. ‘And that’s not the only thing that’s changed around here. The trustees have gone ahead and sold off some of the land, ostensibly to keep funding this place.’
‘The billboard?’ said Jake.
‘That’s right – sacrilege, isn’t it? Anyway, enough about that. Who are you here to see?’ He made a quick entry on the computer on his desk and then looked up expectantly at Jake.
Jake cautiously approached the desk, discreetly tucking the brown envelopes in his coat pocket. He decided he’d be better off speaking to the woman who had been there the previous day – she’d understand. ‘I’ve come to see a woman – she works here.’ Jake craned his neck to see down the hallway. He looked for the door with the wordReception,expecting her to be in there and expecting the man sitting in front of him to go and fetch her.
‘We’ve got lots of women here. Are you talking about a nurse?’
‘No, she’s not a nurse. She’s a receptionist.’ An assumption of course, thought Jake, but hey if you work out of a room calledReception… Jake took another look down the hallway to see if he could see the familiar room, but the big man in front of him was blocking his view, and the long, low desk prevented access to the passage where Jake had walked only the day before.
