John Matthews: Past Imperfect

The conversation returned to light incidentals for most of the rest of the dinner. Then with the dishes cleared away, Yves and Gerome left for St Maxim and Dominic sipping at a brandy, Monique asked: 'When did Eyran finish therapy?'

'When I saw him with Stuart last year at the Palais de Justice, apparently he had just three more sessions to go. So perhaps a month after at most.'

Monique was thoughtful. 'From what you've mentioned, he's obviously a lot happier now. More settled. The past year has made a big difference.'

'It looks that way.' And suddenly looking back at Monique, it struck Dominic why it was important to her. She'd initially pushed away full acceptance of a PLR bond between the two boys, ' some vague, unexplained psychic link' was as far as she would go. But if she was now finally going to accept, it was important for her to know that Eyran was also happy. Her pain and grief — as with any mother who had lost a young child — was not only the personal loss, but the thought that that young life had ended with so much ahead. A tragic waste which flew in the face of all precepts of balance and order in life. Yet if she could believe that there was some continuance, some hope beyond, then it might help salve some of the pain and sense of loss.

A single night-light flickered on the table between them. In the background crickets clicked softly. A calm and balmy night. Almost surreal that just a year ago it had been the scene of so much mayhem. He reached out and gripped Monique's hand, and smiled. He could see how desperately she was now clinging to that hope, and he knew that if she could finally believe, it might quell the last lingering shadows in her eyes. 'Yes,' he said. 'I think you're right. He is very happy now.'

That night, as Dominic started to drift off to sleep, the events of the day all jumbled together: the Capels, Yves and Gerome, the news swapped about Duclos, Corbeix and Calvan, and Monique's final fight with acceptance.

But the image that lingered strongest in his mind was of Monique and Eyran standing by the back wall looking out over the field beyond. For a moment he was concerned — as he had been the year before standing in the wheat field with Stuart and Eyran — that future nightmares might be sparked off in Eyran's mind, that the field might somehow unlock past buried memories of Taragnon. But the images that flashed through his mind were from his own past dreams: the gendarmes tapping across, the field alight and burning around him, the assassin stalking through… Bright, burning lights which seared at the back of his eyes.

As the stinging light faded and he pictured clearly again the two of them standing by the wall, now beckoning towards him, he knew that there was finally nothing to fear. And in that moment, looking on, he saw Monique's hand join with Eyran's. Or was he already dreaming?