Omega

Only coming from a soldier as distinguished as the colonel-general could such a suggestion have had any credibility. Blaskowitz had commanded the armies in the east for ten years. He had reduced their reliance on the monolithic army groups of old by pioneering the use of emergency action formations comprising mobile units that could speedily be dispatched to hotspots. This had helped stabilise the front. It remained a mystery to many of his men that he had not yet received an overdue promotion to field marshal.

“It’s not so easily done,” Sir Gruffydd said. “Some might see it as tantamount to surrendering.”

“And those who advocated it guilty of treason?”

Owain’s uncle made a scornful sound.

“Only a madman would question your loyalty,” he assured Blaskowitz. “It’s more a question of what such a declaration might signify. It could lead disaffected groups within our own territories to come wriggling out like worms in a bud, demanding autonomy, independence, God knows what!”

“I am not suggesting a capitulation. We would consolidate agreed borders and focus our energies on establishing and maintaining order within our dominions while rebuilding a civilised civilian society. It did once exist, you know. Europe was renowned for it.”

Blaskowitz’s face betrayed no smile. Years of the harshest responsibility had made his eyelids and jowls sag. He came from a military family of consequence. His grandfather, a field marshal who had commanded Army Group Centre in the post-Hitler period, had eventually been appointed C-in-C of the Wehrmacht. He had suppressed pro-Nazi elements within the armed forces and facilitated the integration of French and British units. Later he had been instrumental in the establishment of a Jewish homeland in Palestine. The generaloberst, a maternal descendant, had reverted to his grandfather’s family name while still a young man.

Uncomfortable at the feeling that he was eavesdropping on matters too elevated for his rank, Owain walked around the base of the monument. He had once visited its equivalent in Hampton Court. As Europa had been sculpted to embody Marianne here, at home it was the personification of Britannia. Both monuments stood on eminences, surveying the stately contours of past glories. Both had an air of daunting grandeur best appreciated from afar.

Sir Gruffydd was calling him.

“Help me up, my boy.”

Owain raised the old man to his feet.

“I have confided in you, field marshal,” Blaskowitz was saying, “because I believe you are a man who understands that human welfare must sometimes take precedence over short-term military advantage. Our enemies are not demons. There must be those among them who have arrived at a similar view. Sooner or later, someone has to take the initiative.”

Owain’s uncle was silent for a moment. Before he could reply there came from the direction of the lake the sound of a gunshot.

TWENTY

A narrow white-painted bedroom. I was pacing around a single bed, listening to a cassette recording of Sara and Bethany singing “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star”.

The recording had been made a year or two before—I couldn’t exactly remember when. Lyneth had left me, taking the girls, some time ago. Last summer, perhaps. I still couldn’t imagine why, though I was convinced it had nothing to do with Tanya. I’d been living alone—where? In our house, I was positive, though no details of it would come. Lyneth had taken the girls away, gone first to Swansea to stay with her mother. And thence to Australia. Old South Wales to New South Wales. A trial separation that had turned into an extended, possibly permanent one.

Was this true? I didn’t honestly know.

I was in the spare bedroom of Tanya and Geoff’s house. They’d brought me here when I was released from hospital. Days ago. I’d had an extended period of mental abstraction. In fact, my episodes of lucidity were the exception rather than the norm.

The machine fell silent. I recognised the black carryall sitting on top of the pine wardrobe. Opening the wardrobe doors I saw that Tanya had stacked it with clothing that she must have fetched from my house. Everything neatly arranged on hangers. Enough for several days or more.

Frantically I went through the pockets of coats and trousers and jeans; rummaged in the drawer units where she d placed my underwear, even investigated the zippered compartments of the carryall. I found only crumpled tissues and spare buttons in plastic sachets. No keys or driving licence or credit cards or photographs, not so much as an old shopping list. There was only the cassette, which Tanya must have brought from the house as a memento of the girls. Had I asked for it?

“O?”

Tanya, calling up the stairs.

“Yes?”

“You OK up there?”

I replaced the carryall on top of the wardrobe. The room was a mess. “I’ll be down in a moment.”

I tidied everything as well as I could and went out. Four other rooms gave off the landing: the bathroom, Tanya’s study, herf coats anGeoff’s bedroom and another room next to it that was locked.