Chapters (38)
- COVER
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
- ALSO BY ROBERT GODDARD
- DEDICATION
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- RE-EMERGENCE
- READ MORE
- ONE
- THIS IS JUST THE BEGINNING
‘No one exactly knows. They were drunk. They were high. They were on the beach. Night fell. They went in for a swim. Well, Peter and Alison went in. Marty had fallen asleep. They left him behind. After that … it’s anyone’s guess. But they didn’t come back. And two days later Alison’s body was washed up.’
‘What about Peter?’
‘His body was never found. It’s probably in a sea cave somewhere, trapped between rocks. And that’s always been the problem for Marty. Without a body, he’s never managed to convince himself Peter’s actually dead. I’m not sure he’s ever really wanted to.’
‘But you’re in no doubt?’
‘We were at first, of course. We all wondered if somehow he could have survived. But, if he had, where was he? And the longer it went on, well, the more obvious it became. He’d drowned too.’
The conversation paused as their plates were removed. They asked for time before considering dessert.
‘A tragic accident is what it amounts to,’ said Miranda musingly. ‘But Marty’s never been happy to leave it at that. And now …’
‘Now what?’
‘This hasn’t got anything to do with your father, Nick. Geoff didn’t go on that Cornish jaunt. I guess Marty’s mentioned him because he thinks that’ll get you to listen while he sets out his latest theory. Maybe he hopes you’ll give it more credence than I did.’
‘And what is his latest theory?’
‘Somehow, he’s got hold of an advert that appeared in the Evening Standard back in the early nineties. A woman in Japan – yes, Japan – was seeking information about a young Englishman called Peter Evans who’d worked for her late father in London in September 1977. There was a photograph printed in the advert. Of Peter Evans. And, well, he looked a bit like Peter. Our Peter.’
Nick looked intently at her, studying her face to see what she believed in all of this. ‘You’re saying Peter Evans was Peter Ellery?’
‘I’m saying there was a resemblance. In a blurry newspaper photograph. That and the similarity of the names was enough to convince Marty Peter hadn’t drowned in Cornwall. He was alive and well three months later, working for a Japanese businessman in London.’
‘But what did you think?’