‘You were bitter about me?’ Briony queried with a frown. ‘I’m afraid I don’t understand.’
Marian looked a little flustered.
‘Oh, my dear, I don’t want to re-open old wounds, but when Kieron came back from Africa and was so ill, I was sure you would have second thoughts. You see, he’d already told me about your first letter, but I persuaded him to write again. I was so sure you would relent. He told me what had happened, but when his second letter was returned without a word—well, I’m afraid I came very near to hating you.’ She broke off to stare at Briony’s white face. ‘Oh, my dear, I’m so sorry! I shouldn’t have mentioned it. Kieron warned me not to.…’
‘I’m very glad you did,’ Briony said in a shaky voice, ‘because you see, I’ve never written to Kieron in my life. Not when he walked out on me, leaving me to face the Press, and not even when I knew I was expecting Nicky, and everyone seemed to have turned against me. I vowed I never would. He’d made it plain that he wanted nothing more to do with me.…’
‘Nothing more to do with you? Briony, you’re quite wrong,’ Marian interrupted in shocked anger. ‘Why, when he came back from Africa, all through his illness all he thought of and spoke about was you. I never thought he would pull through, you know, and writing to you was my last hope. I thought that once he’d seen you, heard your voice, he would try to get better. It was almost as though he had a death wish, but his body defeated him, recovering against his will.’
‘Please…’ Briony demanded in a tremulous voice, ‘what are you talking about? Kieron left me after searching my flat for the evidence he needed for the Myers story, and I never saw him again. I woke up that morning…’ she broke off, blushing slightly, and then added bravely, ‘—expecting to find myself in his arms, instead of which I was completely alone. By the end of that day Kieron’s story was all over the papers and I was being interviewed by the police concerning my part in the Myers affair.’
Marian sighed. ‘Oh, my dear, I’m so sorry. I understand why you should feel so bitter.’
‘I waited for him to get in touch with me,’ Briony continued as though she had not spoken. ‘All through the court case I went on hoping, right up until Nicky’s birth, but there was nothing…nothing at all.’
‘Oh, my poor child!’ Marian said with compassion. ‘How could he contact you? Before the story broke he was contacted by the paper and ordered to take over from their war correspondent in Angola, who’d been shot and seriously wounded. He begged them for time—time to explain to you why he hadn’t been able to tell you about the Myers story, but they were adamant. Only a few planes were being allowed in and out of Angola and he had to be on the one leaving that morning.’
‘But surely he could have done something before he left? A note.…’
Marian’s eyes were puzzled. ‘But he did. He told me so himself, although very grudgingly. Kieron isn’t a man to confide his private hopes and fears freely to others, however close. He wrote to you begging you to trust him and have faith, saying he would explain as soon as he returned.’
‘I never got the letter,’ Briony said slowly, trying to remember the exact sequence of events on that dreadful morning. Had there been any letters that morning? There were some, for Susan, and she had left them in the kitchen. They had gone when she returned and one of her neighbours had told her with relish of how the police had arrived while Susan was in the flat and how the other girl had left with them. Susan! The blood left her face. What if Kieron’s letter had been delivered during the morning and Susan had opened it? Bitter and resentful, might she not have destroyed or withheld it as a means of getting back at the girl who had in all innocence been the means of her brother’s downfall?
‘You’ve thought of something?’ Marian declared shrewdly.
‘My flatmate, the girl whose brother was convicted—she returned to the flat that day.’
‘And she could have misappropriated the note and replied to it? But of course! Kieron did say he left instructions for it to be delivered by hand.’
‘But that doesn’t explain why he made no attempt to contact me afterwards,’ Briony persisted. ‘Surely.…’
‘Briony, he couldn’t,’ Marian said gently. ‘When he was in Angola he was taken prisoner and he was in gaol for six months. Eventually he managed to escape and make his way to the border where he was found in a delirious state. It was six weeks before he was well enough to leave hospital. He was as thin as a skeleton and had contacted a very debilitating fever. At one stage he even seemed to have lost his memory, and it wasn’t until he came to me to recuperate that I learned what had happened between the two of you. Oh, he didn’t tell me,’ she added when Briony looked surprised. ‘I told you, he had the most dreadful fever, and he was delirious. It didn’t take the intelligence of a genius to work out that the ‘Beth’ he called for so continuously was very, very important to him. When he had recovered enough I taxed him with it, and the whole story came out. He was very bitter about the whole thing. He’d wanted the paper to delay the story and give him time to tell you himself, but they were afraid that if they didn’t print it straightaway, someone else would. For a long time I honestly thought he was going to die. He made no effort to recover, and then at last, in desperation, I coaxed him into giving me your name and address, and I wrote to you begging you to get in touch with us. When the letter was returned unopened it seemed to change something in him. He became much harder, and then Louise came to stay with me, and she made him laugh, and I knew he was going to live.’