Jake walked down the path towards the car. Marcus had his eyes closed and was moving his head back and forth in rhythm to music blaring out. Jake got in the car and switched the radio off.
Marcus opened his eyes. ‘I was enjoying that,’ he said glumly.
‘That was weird,’ said Jake, looking back at the house.
‘Classical music is not weird. I know you’re a jazz man yourself, but you really need to broaden … you’re not talking about the music, are you?’
Marcus started the car and moved off as Jake recounted the conversation with the old man, including the mysterious mention ofthe old oak. ‘Wasn’t exactly helpful, was he?’ muttered Jake.
‘Then why did he invite you inside?’
‘I don’t know,’ Jake said wearily. ‘Let’s head for the airport.’
Marcus unexpectedly turned off onto a stretch of road unfamiliar to Jake. ‘Where are we going?’
‘You’ll see.’
What Jake wanted to see was the back of this place and the back of Marcus. ‘I thought you were anxious to get back to London?’
‘I am,’ said Marcus, ‘but I’ve been driving around all morningnot knowing what the hell is going on. So,’ he grinned, ‘it’s my turn.’
Jake wondered what he had let himself in for, but he was too tired to argue. He slumped down in his seat and watched the world go by.
‘Here we are.’ Marcus pulled into a carpark, put the handbrake on and switched the engine off.
Jake turned in his seat to look at Marcus. ‘You’ve got to be kidding!’
‘Uh-uh.’ He shook his head and got out of the car.
Jake sat for a moment, staring at the row upon row of gravestones. Marcus tapped on his window, making Jake jump. Marcus waved his hand for Jake to get out.
Jake opened the car door. ‘How did you even know where this place was?’
‘When things looked bad, we discussed it, remember? The family did, for Eleanor, as her final resting place.’
Jake remembered now.
‘So, one day I came to have a look.’ Marcus stared off in the distance. ‘It’s bigger than I remember,’ he said, striding off.
‘Ok, so what are we doing here?’ Jake called after him.
Jake followed Marcus in the direction of the most recently departed. By the time Jake reached them, Marcus had already walked off in another direction.
Jake peered at the sticks. They were numbered, with no names – the graves so fresh that memorial stones had yet to be erected. Jake glanced at the row of brand new memorial stones behind these, which were dated the previous year. Jake looked up and spotted Marcus a little way off to his right, talking with what looked like the gardener or caretaker. He was shaking his head, no.
Marcus walked back towards Jake, rubbing the side of his head. ‘Gardener wasn’t much help.’
‘So what?’ The surroundings were not conducive to Jake’s mood, or to his holiday, come to that.
‘I think I was hit by a damn acorn or something.’ Marcus nursed his head.
‘An old oak.’ Jake suddenly recalled the old man’s parting words. He started walking towards the massive tree that Marcus had just been standing under.
Marcus said, ‘Yeah, tell me about it. This isn’t called Old Oak Cemetery for nothing. Damn tree!’ he added. ‘The gardener will only say the same thing to you that he said to me,’ Marcus said, mistaking Jake’s intention.
Jake ignored him and walked over to the tree. He stared up at the massive branches overhead, hiding a dozen gravestones from the bright sunshine.
Marcus hung back out of the range of the falling acorns. ‘I’d be careful under that thing if I were you.’
