7
The hole in the ground had been meticulously dug, its sides perfectly vertical, the corners square. All of the soil was heaped on a tarpaulin off to one side, in the shade of a dense yew tree.
The sky was a deep blue, the day growing so hot already that now, no longer in the cool of the church, most of the men had removed their jackets. Luke kept his – his father’s – jacket on.
Helena Matheson stood towards the far side of the gathered mourners. She watched Luke closely, a strange expression on her face. It was a kind of smile, he thought, but there was far more to it than that. It was a knowing look. Maybe a compassionate one. Luke couldn’t work it out, then realised that he was probably trying too hard to do so.
He stared at the hole in the ground, then shuffled back as his father’s coffin was placed on a metal stand above the grave.
Harvey had been standing nearby. Now he moved forward, nodding at Luke and Alfie and their mother as he passed. Luke felt his mother squeeze his arm. Where before it had been the merest of touches, now he felt as if he was bearing some of her weight.
At a nod from Harvey, the winch started to lower the coffin.
“We therefore commit his body to the ground,” said the vicar. “Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust; in the sure and certain hope of the Resurrection to eternal life.”
Luke shuffled forward with Alfie and his mother. They each tossed a handful of soil into the hole. The dirt made a muffled, rattly sound when it hit the coffin.
That was when his mother started to sob. She turned to Alfie and buried her face in his shoulder, and Luke watched, unable to do anything, not knowing what he could or should do. His hand hovered for a moment by her shoulder, and then he snatched it away, turned, swallowed.
Then he felt hands pulling him in... Alfie and his mother drawing him into their embrace.
After the church they went back to Alice’s house. Sir Peter had insisted on this a few days ago when they had organised the day: he would get people in to take care of everything, and Julie wouldn’t have to concern herself with the arrangements. “The least we could do,” he had said. “The very least, don’t you think?”
The house was one of the largest and oldest in the village, set back from the road along a gravel drive that was lined with roses and, further back, majestic trees. The caterers had put food out on tables to the side of the house, in a paved area that held more rose beds edged with knee-high box hedges.
Luke left his mother talking with Beth’s mother, and went to one of the tables to fill a plate. It wasn’t that he was particularly hungry, just... a distraction. A normal activity. As he looked around, he thought again that they would have to repeat all this next week for Uncle Phil’s funeral.
Again, he wished he could get back to normal, although he was starting to properly understand that normal would never be the same again. It would be a new normal. He just hoped that it could be as... well... normal as possible.
He wished he really believed that that could be the case.
Helena Matheson was standing at the far side of the terrace, sipping at a glass of rosé and chatting to Mr Mahmood.
Just then Alice joined him.
“Hey dude, how you doing?”
He waggled his head from side to side. So so.
She reached over and took a vol-au-vent from his plate. “You simply can’t just have one of these, can you? I’ve had five already.”
“I... haven’t had any yet.”
“Go on,” she said, picking out another one and holding it up to him. “Try it. It’s lush.”
He bit into the small pastry and felt a creamy, fishy, herby explosion in his mouth.
“Good?”
He nodded. He felt as if he hadn’t eaten for a week. He downed the rest of the vol-au-vent in one.
“So who is she?” asked Alice, two vol-au-vents and a crustless cucumber sandwich later. She nodded across the terrace. “The woman. You keep looking at her. Bit old for you, I reckon. Fab shoes, though.”
Luke took a second or two to catch up.
“Was it that obvious?” he asked. “That I was looking, I mean.” He hoped he hadn’t been staring. And he couldn’t help but look again at Helena Matheson. He hadn’t noticed her shoes – so delicate they almost looked painted on, held in place with a single ankle strap and with heels almost as high as a small dog.
He dragged his gaze away, and saw that Alice was smiling at him. “So are you into the older woman?” she asked. “You shouldn’t feel ashamed of it, you know. People are into all kinds of kinky things, you know. Rubber, ropes, fur, nappies even. I saw a programme about it once.”
He shook his head. He knew from long experience that there was no point trying to keep pace with Alice when she was like this. “Whatever,” he said.
“You’d sell body organs or small children for those Jimmy Choos, though, wouldn’t you?” Alice went on. “The shoes, bumpkin. The shoes. So what’s with her, then? Why are you looking at her like you’re not sure whether she’s the spawn of the devil or your latest pash?”
“Will you just...?” He stopped, then started again, when he suddenly felt disarmed by the smirk on her face. “She worked with Dad. I don’t know anything about her. Seems nice enough, even though she’s talking to knobwipe Mahmood–”
“But...?”
“She said... something like: ‘Your father was a good man. He told me all about you. He told me you’re special. Very special.’“
“So? Christ, Luke, I’m really having to drag this out of you, you know? There’s a skill to communicating, and it involves, you know, communication. Isn’t that the kind of thing anyone might say?”
“Remember that odd message I got yesterday?” Luke asked. “The one that vanished. The one that said the future depends on me and they were out to protect me from knobwipes like Mahmood?”
“Ye-es,” said Alice, slowly.
“It said I was ‘special, very special’, too... It seems like an odd thing to say, and she said it, and the message said it, exactly the same.”
“You think she sent the text?”
“I don’t know,” said Luke. “It just seems odd.”
“Why don’t you ask her?”
“What? How can you ask someone a thing like that? ‘Hello, did you send me a text message that said I was special and that the future of the world depended on me?’“
“That would be one way to do it, yes,” said Alice, that smile on her face again. “Or you could just be the good host, go and say hello to her and can you get her anything, and thanks for coming, and see if she takes the opportunity to say anything more.”
He hesitated, and so Alice simply took his arm and led him across the terrace to where Helena was now standing on her own.
“Hello,” said Alice. “We were just admiring your Jimmies. Weren’t we, Luke?”
Helena stretched a foot out, as if she had noticed her own shoes for the first time. “Thank you,” she said, smiling from Alice to Luke. “I must admit I’m a sucker for a bit of Mr Choo.” She held out a hand then, and said, “You must be Alice Seaton. It’s very generous of you and your parents to invite us all back here. Most kind. Julie must appreciate it so much.”
“You’re very welcome,” said Alice. “Can I get you anything?”
Helena hesitated, then shook her head. “No,” she said. “No, thank you. I’m fine. The food was splendid. I must thank your parents.”
Then she turned to Luke, and reached to take the arm that Alice wasn’t holding. To Alice, she said, “But first I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask if you’d awfully mind if I were to steal your young man away for a minute or two? Luke: would you walk with me through the garden for a minute?”
Startled by the sudden move, Luke turned to Alice as she released his arm. She was smirking again, no doubt at the phrase your young man.
“Of course not,” she said to Helena. “Feel free.” And with that she turned, and walked back towards the food tables.
“We must stick to the paths,” said Helena, as they headed away from the gathering. “Paths are important. And in any case, I need to stay on the paved bits, darling. Can’t go over the lawn in in these Choos – the heels would sink in and I’d be marooned like a beached whale.”
In her heels she was as tall as Luke, and he was very conscious of her watching him, her eyes on the same level making her gaze seem all the more intense for some reason.
“I come to these things all too often,” she said, once they were away from the crowd. “Unavoidable in my line of work, and always so tragic: a father or mother, gone far too soon... a young man who had his life ahead of him... In my work I tend to be all too concerned with the broader canvas, the ebb and flow of grand events, the shaping of history that goes on all around us. On days like today, though, I see the individual tragedy, the people who have been left behind.”
Luke glanced across at her and was surprised to see the track of a tear glistening on the cheek he could see.
She turned to him. “You do know what my line of work is, don’t you, Luke? What your father did. I think you’re smart enough to have pieced things together. Your father was no desk-bound civil servant.”
“I... he never said. He never talked about what he did. Something to do with national security? The War Against Terror?”
Helena nodded. By now they had reached the summer house, and they paused here, looking back towards Alice’s home and the small clusters of people on the terrace.
“All these incidents,” she said. “All these little tragedies – they shape the future, Luke. They add together to complete that broader canvas. That’s what we do, people like me and your father. We shape the future. We steer it towards the most viable path.”
Luke didn’t know where to look so he stared at the bank of trees at the far end of the garden. Helena’s manner was a bit too creepy for his liking.
“I know you’ve read your father’s aides memoire,” she said, and now he looked at her, into her eyes, transfixed. “The notes he left on his laptop. Don’t worry. It’s fine. You reading them hasn’t done any harm.”
“How... how do you know?”
She smiled. “I know because that’s what the historical record will say.”
“But...”
“Your father was special,” said Helena. “He would have played a pivotal role in history. But his death changes that. He can no longer do the things he would have done. He has been erased from the canvas, darling. History has been rewritten by this small tragedy.”
Luke’s head was spinning with all that this woman was saying. He wanted to walk away, back to the terrace, to his friends, his family... back to reality. But what Helena said next stopped him in his tracks.
“History is never totally derailed though, Luke. It has momentum, it takes a lot to change it. The history reshaped by your father’s death now puts you in that critical role: the future depends on you, Luke. You really are special. The things you do will steer us through one of the most treacherous times in history and give us hope to survive. It is as big as that.”
“You texted me, didn’t you?” For some reason Luke latched onto that detail amid all the extraordinary claims Helena was making.
She nodded, then continued, “The next century is a critical time for humankind. The climate is changing, the ice caps will melt and the oceans will rise. This will flood coastal regions where perhaps a third of our population lives, and where the majority of our food is grown. Billions will die around the world, and billions more will be forced to migrate, looking for somewhere new to live. Resources like oil and fresh water will start to run short. People will be at war with each other, fighting for territory and resources, fighting to survive.”
None of this was entirely new to Luke, although Helena’s version was far more extreme than anything he had heard before. He had studied climate change and its consequences at school, and he had discussed it often enough with Alice and Alfie. Alice could be quite obsessive about it at times. But hearing it described so calmly and set out in such stark terms seemed shockingly different somehow. As if it had already happened.
“Island nations like ours have a chance of survival,” Helena continued. “Things will get tough, but we can grow our own food, we can defend our borders against those who would seek to take what we have – and they will. It’s a harsh future, Luke, and it will take strong leadership to get us through.”
Luke thought of his father’s last file, the one that had talked of tanks in the streets. That sounded very much like Helena’s future.
“You sound like a Nat,” said Luke.
“The Nats are a foolish, misguided rabble,” said Helena. “But they have their place in the course of history. I have seen this future, Luke. Or at least, I have seen evidence, reports which set out in cold detail what it will be like. And I have seen who will lead this country through the early, most critical period of this chaos.”
Luke realised that he was holding his breath. He swallowed. Was she trying to tell him he would lead the country to survive all the chaos she had described? Despite her calm and assured manner, despite her well-educated voice and her expensive shoes, he was listening to a mad woman, and the only thing that stopped him walking away right now was that she knew about his father’s notes and was talking about the same things he had written about. If she was mad, then she shared her madness with Luke’s late father.
“Who will that be?” he asked her, dreading the answer.
“Your brother,” she said. “Alfie.”
“Alfie? What do you mean – Alfie?”
“Alfie has the understanding to see solutions,” said Helena. “He has the charisma and strength of character to unify people behind an unpalatable route. He will be a great leader, Luke.”
“But... I don’t get it,” said Luke. “Why am I so special, then? Why are you telling me all this stuff about the future and telling me I’m going to shape it when you think it’s Alfie who will save the world or whatever?”
“Sometimes,” said Helena, “it’s the people around the leader who are just as critical in shaping events. And the people who stand against them... One person who can stop Alfie is Alice Seaton.”
“Alice? I still don’t get it...”
“You’ve seen how Alice can get under Alfie’s skin, how she can always deflate his big ideas by winding him up and then knocking him down again with some kind of joke or an argument that ties him in knots. He doesn’t know how to handle her. Alice, too, is destined for a prominent role. She will lead opposition against him. She has the same kind of charisma: she will rally people against the strong leadership Alfie could provide. The two of them will end up fighting each other, rather than uniting the nation to fight for survival.”
It all seemed fantastical to Luke. Insane. Yet Helena clearly had a good insight into how Alfie and Alice interacted: they were exactly like this now, bickering and squabbling, and alternately running rings round each other. For a moment, he could picture Alfie as some kind of militant leader, and Alice always there to wind him up and knock him back down again, exactly as Helena described.
“So why is it that I’m special?” asked Luke.
“You’re special because you will stop Alice from derailing Alfie’s political career,” said Helena.
That sounded quite final. “How will I do that?” asked Luke.
“How?” said Helena. “You’ll be a hero, Luke, and she will fall in love with you.”