Homecoming
Early January, 2009
The New Year had been rung in, the family had dispersed to their various homes, and the time had come for me to make good my promise to Caroline to take her back to Ancient Earth to talk to her friend Sir John.
After that first, rather strained conversation with myself and Wolf in the gazebo, she had settled down a little, and initially, at least, her general demeanour had become slightly less that of a seriously pissed off rabbit in headlights. Although it was obvious that she wasn't particularly comfortable with my crazy, mixed up family.
As far as Wolf was concerned, the fact that Ava seemed to accept her - and vice versa - had softened his feelings towards her, not least because since her comments about the little cat talking to her, my son had found the same thing himself. Quite how she'd suddenly begun to communicate was less certain, although one evening over a drink he'd told me that the first thing she'd said to him that he'd understood was ‘at last!', which implied that it wasn't a new thing. It certainly explained just how expressive she'd become in the last year or so - maybe we'd been picking up her thoughts subconsciously. It did make me wonder where she'd come from, though, especially as all Wolf himself knew was that she'd turned up on his doorstep when he'd needed her.
The problem was Artur. From the moment they met, she was hostile to him, although I'm not sure even she could explain why first off. But things clicked into place bloody fast when she out and out asked him where he was from and what he did. When put in the same position, Wolf had dissembled and Armand had brushed off similar queries by emphasising his work in Amber and with Hawke Security. But with Artur, pretty much everything he does revolves around Dieter and his plots and schemes, and he doesn't consider that to be anything he needs to be ashamed about.
Sometimes he forgets that people in England don't feel the same way. Hell, before I made my semi-peace with my father-in-law, I wouldn't have his position well, eight. Although pots and kettles get involved once the Random Working is taken into account. And so he told her.
Armand fell on the metaphorical grenade almost as soon as Caroline could tossed it, and stepped in to ask Artur to help him with out with something. Then he'd guided him out with a friendly arm over the shoulder. She'd watched them go, and the look of hatred on her face towards her brother was frightening.
"Your son is a card-carrying member of the Nazi Party, and a high-ranking SS officer?" she demanded, turning back to me.
I'll admit, just how high-ranked had surprised even me. At New Year last year, he'd been a humble captain, and while I'd been there after the Germania Coup, when he'd been rewarded with the rank of colonel, now he was something like a brigadier general. I guess that's what comes of being high in your commanding officer's esteem, and proving your loyalty on multiple occasions.
"I did tell you they were still active here," I answered, "and on Germania they're even more prominent."
"But can't you tell that he doesn't follow the Light? I can feel the stink of it all over him."
"He's still my son," I said, quietly, "whatever his flaws."
"So you knew he was a Thulist?"
"I could hardly not."
I shrugged, curious as to know how she was aware of that delightful organisation, and knew to identify their style. The mysterious Sir John, no doubt.
"The Oakwood Group opposes people like that...we don't invite them over for New Year."
"My universe isn't as simple as yours, Caroline..." I tried to sound patient, but she was so set in her views it was difficult. And in response she just looked at me, obviously trying to figure out how I got from that, to having a member of the Thule Group as a house guest.
"...it used to be, but things have changed a lot since I discovered that both Wolf's mother and my wife were the children of an SS general."
"The same SS general. Who's now your father-in-law. Do you have any idea how creepy that is?"
"Nothing is black and white with the Amber Family. I know you've avoided them for the most part, but even you have to realise that."
"The Thule Group is evil. They murder people for personal power. How is that not black and white?"
And that was the turning point. From then onwards, she stopped even trying to be sociable, and made it perfectly clear that she had no intention of staying. She was just counting the minutes until I made good on my word and take her back to Ancient Earth.
I did ask Wolf to grab a Trump deck for her, so that she could get in touch with me if she wanted to. Not that I really had any expectation that she would. I even offered to show her how it worked, but she brushed off my offer with her usual curt refusal. I also debated whether to make her a token-ring, so she could get back to Tenterden if she wanted to, but in the ended decided there just wasn't any point.
When I finally had the opportunity to take her back to Ancient Earth, I pondered whether to just gate there and have done with it. But in the end I decided to drive. My old Land Rover wouldn't be out of place there, so that was my vehicle of choice. The dogs had got very excited, as getting it out of the garage usually meant we were going on a shoot; but sadly I had to disappoint them. I was apologising to them when she came out to join me. She had her small pack on her back, and was ready for the road.
"Ready?" I asked, quietly.
"Let's just get on with it," she answered, rather less quietly.
I gestured for her to take the passenger side, then climbed behind the wheel and started up the engine. I headed down the drive, and travelled a few miles before I began to Shadow-shift. I took it quite slowly - I don't find driving and shifting all that easy, despite the fact that Wolf seems to be able to do it at 80 miles an hour on a motorbike - but soon we were moving towards Ancient Earth.
We drove in silence for a couple of hours (I was concentrating, and she didn't seem interested in conversation), and eventually I felt the Shadows coalescing into the pattern I was aiming for. At that point I ceded control to her, and let her guide us in, as she knew exactly where we were going. Soon we were driving though country roads that seemed semi-familiar.
"We'd better stop, so I can call ahead," she said, finally, "I wouldn't want to drop in on him unannounced."
It made sense, so I pulled into a petrol station on the outskirts of Tenterden - the town, not the Shadow - and she jumped out to make a call. She came back about five minutes later.
"Okay. I've let him know. Take a right as you pull out of the forecourt."
I let her navigate, but from her directions, it soon became apparent that we really were heading for the village of Wittersham. It confirmed what she'd said, when she'd described my home: how similar it was to where she was used to. It's just here there was less traffic. After about twenty minutes, as the winter dusk was gathering, she indicated for me to pull into a driveway, with an impressive gate - which was open - supported by curved brick walls supporting it. The legend Oakwood House was displayed on a brass plate on the right hand side.
The moment I passed through the plane of the gate, I felt the wards, and I saw her glancing at me, trying to gauge my reaction. They felt familiar...very similar to the ones around Wittersham House, but much, much older, as if they had been maintained over generations, rather than the mere decades of the ones I'd built since I became aware of the Old Religion.
I headed up the drive at a steady pace, taking in the scenery. The similarities between here and home really were startling. Sure, the trees and shrubs were different, and the animals in the field weren't the same ones I let graze on my land, but the place as a whole...
"I see what you mean," I commented, as we turned a corner and the old half-timbered Tudor manor house appeared before us. The similarity with the pictures I'd seen of the building that had originally been on the site where Wittersham House was now was uncanny.
"About what?"
"When you said that place was right but the house was wrong."
I pulled up in front of the house and turned off the engine. Standing on the step were two figures: a butler who looked like he was cut from the same cloth as Carmichael; and an older man, dressed in dark trousers and a dark turtleneck jumper.
No, not dark. Black.
His appearance immediately called to mind the day Wolf and I had gone to see Dieter, to stop the hurricane which Random was sending down on Amber; the first time I'd Worked with him. I'd dressed that day for a similar effect.
We got out of the car, Caroline grabbing her bag as she did. The butler took it from her, while she went and greeted her friend with a hug far warmer than anything she'd offered to me in our brief acquaintance. I tried to fight down the pang of jealousy, instead occupying my thoughts by taking a good look at the mysterious Sir John.
Caroline had described him as in his eighties but pretty well preserved, but that didn't cover the half of it. If she hadn't mentioned his age, I would have put him in his late-60s. He had a lean build, which showed no signs of running to fat or infirmity; a pleasant, lived in face; and salt and pepper hair that had probably originally been dark brown. But what got me most, as she stepped aside and he approached me, was his eyes. Clear, hazel, with a keenness that probably rarely missed anything. It was like watching myself staring back at me.
We paused for a few seconds, sizing each other up, and no doubt recognising each other for what we were...senior adepts in a very similar tradition. Once I got over the initial impression, there was something more than just his eyes which familiar about him, and it annoyed the Hell out of me that I couldn't place it.
As I joined him on the step, he offered his hand. As we shook, his grip was surprisingly firm, and more to the point, I could feel the strong personal wards around him. But I was also left with the impression of something else. Something Real, which made me wonder if he was Family. And off to one side, I saw Caroline watching our reactions to each other.
"Ian Cushing..." I offered, "pleased to meet you, Sir John. Caroline speaks well of you."
"Enter and be welcome, Mr Cushing," he answered, and I will admit to being slightly relieved that he, at least, had not found me wanting.
He led us into a cool hallway with a flagstone floor, where the butler took my jacket and hung it up, and through into a well-appointed library, where a fire burned in the grate. The butler followed a few steps behind.
"Do you want anything? Tea? Coffee? Something stronger?"
"Coffee thank you," I answered, knowing that I had a long drive home ahead of me, and noting from the grandfather clock against one wall that it was nearly five in the afternoon.
He gave instructions to the butler and then indicated for me to take a seat. Caroline, I noted, had already made herself scarce, and I couldn't decide whether to be disappointed or relieved. Maybe she would rejoin us once she'd freshened up, but I didn't hold out much hope.
"So you're Caroline's father," he said, finally.
"So it appears, although I heartily suspect she'd prefer it if that honour fell to you."
"How long have you known her?"
"Just a couple of weeks. I only recently found out that she existed, and I hadn't had a chance to introduce myself before."
"Should I surmise from your comment that once you did, it didn't go particularly well?"
"Not particularly, no," I answered, quietly, "but then, I suppose I shouldn't be that surprised. The circumstances were probably less than ideal, and I suspect neither of us saw each other at our best. I tried, but..."
I suppose I'd got lucky with Wolf, and Bobby just seemed too vague to even have an opinion, but after first the difficult meeting with Artur, and then what happened with Caroline, I was becoming firmly of the opinion that the tack I'd decided to take with Adam, Richard and Geoff - of not presuming anything - was the best one. I wouldn't be looking for that last son I had out there in a hurry.
"I was worried about her," he said, finally, "I tried to call her when I didn't see her at Winter Solstice, but I couldn't reach her."
Which of course, he wouldn't have been able to, given that the phone hasn't yet been made which can communicate cross-Shadow.
"Would you care to tell me where she was?"
It was such a simple question, and yet it was obvious from the way he asked it that he knew the answer would be far from simple. Thankfully, the butler came in with the coffee just then. He placed the tray on the table between us, and then my host thanked him and he departed. Graham poured us both a coffee, and then we sat back in our chairs.
"Is there something wrong?" he asked, finally, taking my silence for an unwillingness to answer, rather than and uncertainty on my part what to say.
"Not particularly," I answered, "I was thinking. In answer to your question, she'd managed to find her way to the home of a cousin of mine. But she couldn't work out how to get back. He gave me a call when he realised she was my daughter."
"And how did he come to that conclusion?"
"He did a DNA check."
I decided I didn't need to mention the fact that the check in question had been a magical one.
"Obviously he has access to significant resources, to get the answer back that quickly," he answered, mildly.
"Yes, he does. And when he had an answer, he got in touch with me."
"So where does he live? Where did Caroline end up, that I couldn't reach her?"
"A long way from here."
"Are you willing to be any more specific?"
"Not particularly," I answered, "she's obviously safe; she isn't lying dead in a ditch; she hasn't been sold into slavery, or given over to an Eastern European sex ring. And more to the point, she obviously considers this to be her home, as she made it very clear that here is where she wanted to be. So what does it matter where she was?"
"Perhaps it only matters, because you seem unwilling to tell me," came the reply, his tone matter of fact.
"No doubt you'll find her more expansive," I replied, and I could hear the coldness in my own voice.
However I'd expected this to go, it wasn't like this.
"No doubt," he answered, his tone mild enough, but I saw a flash of impatience in his eyes .
Believe me, it was mutual.
Which was the point at which it dawned on me why he seemed familiar.
On the whole, it's hard to form a mental picture of yourself ten, or twenty, or thirty years older. But that's what finally clicked. He reminded me of how I'd looked before I'd first walked the Pattern. When Bleys came back for me for the first time in seventy years. Could this overly-perceptive old man be my Shadow?
Until now, the only Shadow of myself that I'd actually met - who was still breathing, at least - was Sean, the young man we'd freed from the Lynxes prior to taking down Immelman. Other than that, my only experience had been the pile of bodies we'd had to bury when Armand and Wolf had been taken by the Lynx, and I hadn't exactly been checking them over for signs of aging.
"Is there something wrong?" he asked.
"Apart from the fact that you seem to want to give me the third degree, when all I've done wrong is bring her home."
"You're right," he replied, "I haven't been particularly hospitable."
"You think?"
"I was concerned for her safety. I care for her."
"Good luck with that."
We fell into an uncomfortable silence, sitting back in our respective chairs and sipping our coffee as the clock ticked in the corner. I needed to be getting back, and truth be told, I wanted to leave this disturbing man, and my hostile daughter to their own devices. They deserved each other.
I drained my cup and got to my feet.
"I should be going. I've done what I came to do, and that's that."
"Before you do, will you answer me one last question."
"I doubt it, but ask away if it makes you feel better."
"Are we related, you and I?"
Now that, I wasn't expecting.
"Why do you ask?"
"Something just fell into place, that's all."
"To do with Caroline?"
"No, something else," he answered, I've been trying to figure out why I think I should know you."
Which was interesting, if unsurprising, given I'd been doing the same thing.
"And you've come to some conclusion?" I asked.
"Perhaps. You remind me a lot of myself when I was your age...or perhaps, I should say, the age you appear to be, because you certainly don't look old enough to be Caroline's father. Which is why I immediately started asking questions, when my first instinct should have been to trust you, as a fellow follower of the Old Ways. When I was younger, I was in Army Intelligence. I used to analyse oddities and discrepancies, to discover the underlying truth behind them. And old habits die hard. So please, forgive me."
As he spoke, he gestured for me to sit once more. I debated with myself for a moment, trying to decide what to do, and then eventually curiosity won out and I did as I was bid. At which point he poured us both a refill.
"I suppose I understand that," I conceded, "I did a stint in the Intelligence Corps as well, before moving over to the SIS."
"How long ago?"
"A good while now."
"Another evasion?" he said, but this time his tone was more gentle, "you really are the most frustrating man I've met in a long time."
"I find it hard to confide in someone I don't know."
"I rather suspect, you also find it hard to confide in people you do know. My guess is that you have maybe half a dozen people in your life that you trust to that extent."
He was so close to the mark that I couldn't even think of an appropriate answer to that one, so I went back to what he'd said before.
"It's still a big jump from there to ‘are we related'.
"Yes, but to add to the oddness, Caroline reminds me a lot of my daughter, Audrey, when she was her age, and so..."
"Your daughter's called Audrey?" I asked, surprised. "Audrey was my wife's name."
"Was?"
"She died in a car accident."
"I lost my wife in similar circumstances."
Now I was beginning to get disturbed by the coincidences. I know probability gets a bit wacky around members of the Family, especially Pattern initiates, but still. My conviction that the man in front of me was my Shadow was increasing.
"Did she know about the Old Religion?" he asked, after a few moments, "Your wife?"
"She was the one who introduced me to it.
"Not your parents?"
"No. My mother was more an unconvinced Anglican, and my father moved on when I was still a baby. Divorced."
"Strange. Our tradition more often run in families, passed down through the generations. The Grahams and the Jordans - the family which owns this lovely house, and who have been kind enough to let me live here since my daughter married the previous Earl - have both been inclined in that direction for a centuries."
"As far as I know, neither of my parents share my beliefs...although quite what they do believe is anyone's guess."
"They're still alive? Interesting."
Old he might be, but he was obviously sharp as a tack and he didn't miss anything. It was rather daunting, to tell the truth. He seemed able to read me as well as Wolf can.
"Audrey's family had been involved with the Old Ways for generations, and when we first met, she recognised me as a kindred spirit. Someone who had followed their path in a past life."
"So she was Caroline's mother?"
"Audrey and I were never blessed with children."
"Then not everything about us is the same," he commented, quietly, and I suspected that he was beginning to be as curious about the similarities between us as I was.
I suppose that's when I finally began warming to the man.
We sat back in our respective chairs, sipping on our coffees and regarding each other. The only sounds in the silence were the fire crackling in the great and, over to one side, the tick of a grandfather clock.
"This is more than just a chance meeting, isn't it?" he said, finally.
"I think so."
"I wonder if that's why the gods bought Caroline to my door? To bring you and I together?"
"Who knows," I answered, "but if they did, then I suspect she was an unwilling tool. She's made her opinion of me perfectly clear, as I mentioned before."
"But it brings me back to my earlier question. Are we related?"
"No, I don't believe so."
"But there is some kind of connection between us, isn't there?"
"Yes."
"And you think you know what it is."
"I have a theory."
"Well, it obviously isn't that you're my son..."
"Where did that come from?"
"It crossed my mind because, as I said, you remind me of myself when I was younger. But you seem certain that isn't the case. So what's your theory?"
What could I actually say? Did he have any idea of multiple Shadows, and even if he did, did I really want to tell him the truth?
"In your studies of our tradition," I answered, cautiously, "have you ever considered the possibility that this isn't the only world? The only universe?"
"Some might say that describes the Second Road," he answered, "although I prefer to consider that the Astral Plane is overlaid over this one."
"Any more than that?"
This time it was his turn to think before answering.
"Sometimes I dream," he said, finally, "of other places, other lives...Not past lives exactly, although there have been those as well, but more as if I'm tapping into something, or someone, beyond myself."
"Would it surprise you to know such places really exist?"
"At my age, very little surprises me," he said, with a slight smile, "presumably you know they exist because you come from...elsewhere?"
"In a nutshell," I answered, "when Caroline first saw my home, she said it reminded me of here. And when we drove up this evening, I could see what she meant. I think that in the greater scheme of things, you and I are... perhaps counterparts is the best term. On our respective worlds, we seem to fill the same niche in the scheme of things. We follow the Old Religion. We've loved and lost in similar ways. Heck, we even both worked in intelligence."
"Me rather earlier than you, I suspect," he commented.
"Actually, I wouldn't be too sure about that. As you said earlier, I don't seem old enough to be Caroline's father, and that's true. I'm significantly older than I look."
"That's certainly not unheard of in our tradition. People who follow the Old Ways are often blessed with robust health and a long life...
"Yourself being a case in point."
"Thankfully, I've been thus blessed. Which is not to say that its always been easy. My wife died before the war, and my son Richard died during it, as did my nephew and my best friend. So I've been alone a long time."
"I'm sorry."
"It was a long time ago. I'm just lucky to have Audrey and her husband's family, and that they've welcomed me into their home."
"For me it's a genetic thing."
"Which somehow lets you understand about different worlds? I assume that's why you were so cagey, earlier, about where Caroline was. Because she'd gone somewhere else."
"It's an ability I inherited from my father. We undertake a form of initiation, and that unlocks our inherent abilities."
"Much like, say initiation into the Old Ways? The process triggers something within you. And it also causes you to age slowly?"
"Yes," I answered, although by now, I suppose I really shouldn't really be surprised at his ability to tie loose ends together. He was, after all, a self-confessed intelligence officer, like me.
"So how old are you?"
"I was born on Beltane 1910 on my world, which was 98 years ago as time is calculated there."
"That's an odd way of putting it."
"Time flows differently on different worlds. So here it's what, 1983 or thereabouts?"
He gave a slight nod.
"On Caroline's homeworld I think it's now something like 2018. Where I'm from..."
"It's 2008, if I have my maths right."
"Exactly. I joined up in the early days of WWII. I was at Dunkirk. Then I went back to France with the SOE, and I eventually joined the Intelligence Corps after my services were no longer needed on the Jedburgh teams. I was posted to Berlin for a while, after the peace treaty was signed, as I speak both German and French, as well as English, but that didn't work out so well. I was finally demobbed in 1949. Since then I've been a lawyer and a journalist, and in the latter capacity, I was still unofficially employed by the SIS until the early-80s."
"Odd combination."
"I trained as a lawyer after university, before the war. I went back to my grandfather's business for a while, but after Audrey died I wanted to do something different, hence journalism. The law was a career I went back to on and off after that."
"And since the early-80s?"
"I went back to university, studied history, worked in the US for a while, drifted back into journalism while I studied for my Doctorate in my spare time. And most recently I've been lecturing in War Studies at Kings College London, and doing a fair bit of writing."
"About what?"
"History and alternative history."
"Such as?"
"What would have happened if Operation Seelöwe had or hadn't happened. What if Hitler had been assassinated before 1945? What if Heydrich hadn't been? That kind of thing."
"All twentieth century?"
"No, but that's the period I'm most interested in, given that I lived through it."
"In many of its variations, I'd surmise. I'd be interested in reading some of your work."
"I'd be delighted to show you,," I answered, rather surprised at myself, given my initial reaction to him, "assuming we have the chance to meet again."
"Surely you'll come and visit Caroline?"
"That, I rather doubt," I answered, and for a moment I thought he looked almost sympathetic.
"Is she your only child?"
"No. I have several sons, and one other daughter."
"Are they older or younger?"
"They're all older, except for the twins with my second wife. They're still infants."
"So you've married again?"
"Comparatively recently, but yes."
"After my wife died, I never found another soul mate," he said, with a sigh, "but I suppose that's the thing about soul mates...they only come along once in your life. You're lucky."
"Marina isn't exactly my soul mate. Not the way Audrey was. And she doesn't follow the Old Ways, although she certainly has an awareness of the occult, which comes from her father. But we care about each other. We even love each other, in our way. Would we have got married if it wasn't for the twins? Probably not."
"That's honest, at least."
I shrugged. What else could I say?
"I assume you're familiar with what happened here during the War?" he said, backtracking the subject, "So what happened on your world?"
"Hitler insisted on launching Seelöwe before the plans were really ready, and after some initial success, we kicked them out of the British Isles, before rallying the European allies to force them back. Hitler was assassinated in 1941, after which they chose to settle with the West. The treaty with Germany was signed in 1942, but it was decided not to force demilitarisation on them, because that had worked out so well after Versailles. There was also the issue that the allies were concerned about Russian intentions: probably the one thing we actually could agree with the Nazis on. And sure enough, once the ink was dry on the Peace Treaty, they launched Barbarossa."
"So they only ever fought on one front. Interesting. What happened in the East?"
"They fought to a stalemate. Germany made gains, but they weren't conclusive, although they held what they took; on the other hand, the elite Waffen-SS units didn't die in the snow through lack of equipment, either."
"And now?"
"They're still arguing."
"So Nazi Germany is still a force to be reckoned with?"
"They were never defeated the way they were here. Russian troops never made it into Eastern Europe, let alone Germany itself."
"I think I prefer our outcome."
"To be honest, so do I," I answered, "but now, sixty-odd years later, we've learned to live with it."
"Is the Thule Group also active, still? They were at the heart of our Nazi philosophy."
"Yes. And that gets more complicated still. As no doubt I'm sure Caroline will tell you. That was rather the final straw which made sure she and I weren't going to have a storybook reunion."
"Surely you aren't a member of it?" he said, although as he did, I saw uncertainly cross his features. I tried to keep my expression neutral, but of course, he was as good at reading people as Wolf, "but there's something, isn't there?"
"I was involved in something I shouldn't have been to protect my father and his world. It's why, unlike yourself, I'm not Man in Black of my Group at this point. Rehabilitation if you will."
"Is that why you and Caroline didn't hit it off?"
"Not entirely. I actually tried to explain that to her. No her problem is that both her brother and my father-in-law are members of the Thule Inner Circle."
"Active members?"
"Active members."
"I can see that would be a problem. In her mind, things are still very black and white."
"And yours?"
"I've lived too long not to see the shades of grey. I've seen good men fall into bad situations, and likewise, I've known bad men who rose to the occasion when they had to. How come your son is involved?"
"He was born in Germany, and brought up in the Lebensborn Eingetragener Verein."
"That wasn't much more than a brothel system for the SS here."
"On my world, in the sixty plus years that it's existed, it's evolved a lot further than that. It's a huge State children's home and education system. Some of the children within it are orphans, or offspring of mothers who didn't want to be bothered with bringing them up. But there are as many who have families who choose for them to be educated within it."
"And your son?"
"Marina and I had both a professional and a physical relationship for a long time before we finally got married. Almost thirty years. Artur was conceived early in that relationship. Trouble was, it happened around the time her father and I had a pretty spectacular disagreement, which involved my seriously buggering up a particularly nasty black ritual he was organising as Master of the Thule Group. Learning that his daughter was carrying my child did not go down well. He took Artur from her minutes after he was born, and arranged for him to be brought up by the State. He wasn't even happy for her to see him, let alone tell me about him. I only learned he existed about eighteen months ago."
"So once...Artur...was old enough, Marina's father decided that his grandson should become a member of his Group."
"And as he was head of the Ahnenerbe at the time, he had the power to make it happen."
"Then how did Caroline meet him?"
"He was at my house for Christmas and New Year, along with my eldest son, his lad and assorted other family."
"I definitely prefer the outcome here. Nazism is a philosophy which deserved the fate we gave it."
"And you don't invite the Thule Group round for New Year."
"Quite."
"My world is what it is," I said with a shrug, "but the time I learned that I could have changed the outcome, it was too late."
"You are an interesting man, Mr Cushing."
"By now, having pretty much bared my soul to you, you might as well call me Ian."
"Oh, I very much doubt you've done that...Ian. But perhaps it's enough for today," he answered, with a wry smile, "my friends call me Gray, by the way."
"Are we friends?"
"Maybe not yet, but we will be. I think we're too connected not to be. So I think we'll meet again."
"Although with Caroline here, I'd have to pick my times to avoid her."
"You really don't want to see her again?"
"More she really doesn't want to see me. As I said earlier, we didn't exactly hit it off. Maybe that will change in the future, but for now, it's best to let sleeping dogs lie, I think."
"Perhaps you're right. She was very lost and confused when I first met her. It's taken a long time for her to learn to trust me and mine. I can imagine suddenly learning you're her father would have been difficult for her."
"I'd like to give her the benefit of the doubt, but she hasn't made it easy."
"That I can imagine. She's a very forthright young woman."
"Yes she is."
I sat back in my chair and finished my now cold coffee, then glanced over at the grandfather clock.
"It's time I was on my way," I said, as I realised it had got to half-six.
"You're welcome to stay here, if you wish."
"I don't think that would be a very good idea," I answered, as I got to my feet, "she needs to settle, and I suspect she won't come out of her room until she sees me drive away."
"You care for her?"
"I'd like to. But again, she hasn't made it easy. But maybe, if she asks, you could put in a good word for me."
"Let's see how things go, eh?"
"Yes. And if I'm in the vicinity again, I'll get in touch. And maybe next time, you'll me more about yourself than I end up telling you about me."
He smiled as he got to his feet.
"Old habits die hard, but we'll see. Let me walk you out."