It was a long way to Lyon, but when we eventually got there Javier adamantly refused any payment for the trip. I had no idea how the train timetable ran so I was taking potluck. I'd chosen to set off from Lyon because that way my starting point would be much further down the line than Cody's so I had it figured I'd be well ahead of her; that way there was little chance of us running into each other during the journey.
Javier stayed at the station with me until the first train to Paris arrived and when it did, he wished me a safe journey the way only a Frenchman could another male. Somewhat embarrassing for my repressed English character to get accustomed to.
The express train took me directly to Paris, where I jumped on the Euro-Star to Waterloo. Then it was the underground system to the station closest to my parent's house where, I'm pleased to say, I was received like the prodigal son.
I noted that my father took a quick look up and down the road, as if he was expecting someone -- I assumed Codi -- to be with me; but if it was, he made no comment concerning her absence. It was embarrassingly obvious to me that all of my family avoided mentioning or asking questions about Codi at all though. At the time I assumed that there was something about my demeanour that told them that Codi was history; whatever she was not mentioned by anyone.
It was to be sometime before I worked out the reason she was never mentioned, and I've chosen to never broach the subject with any of them.
Julia arrived at the house shortly after I had and I got the distinct impression that she'd turned up especially to see me. But that idea I had trouble understanding, because even if someone had called her the second I'd arrived at the house to tell her that I was home, she hadn't had the time to drive over from her own house.
All the family appeared to have assumed -- correctly -- that I'd stopped off to see them on my way back to the Willows.
"Have you called Bev to let her know that you're coming?" my mother asked.
The familiar name that my mother used for Beverley didn't really surprise me. I was well aware by then that the two women had been in regular contact with each other for years. Later I learnt that my parents had been up to stay with Bev and George for a few days, more than once, while I'd been away.
"No, I figured that I'd surprise everyone up there, like I did you lot," I replied. "Bev wrote me a letter last week and invited me back for the season so I planned on just turning up."
"You don't know then?" my father asked.
"Know what?" I replied, but before my father could say anything further my mother cut him off.
"No, father, it's Beverley's surprise; don't you dare go interfering!"
My dad clammed up after that and no matter how much I pushed him; he wouldn't elaborate on the comment he'd made. He just gave me the kind of smile that he had always reserved for my eldest brother in the past. I'm not sure how to describe it, but for once in my life I got the idea that my father was proud of me. Pride was something that I had never known him show where I was concerned before. Considering what a fuck up I'd made of just about everything in my life up to that point, I had some trouble understanding that smile.
That night as a family, we all went out for a meal together, after which some heavy drinking took place. It might sound odd - and I got a few strange looks from the family of beer drinkers - but I found myself drinking quite a bit of wine during the evening, a habit that I'd picked up in France. Although it was nice to get back to some decent beer for a change.
I know that I consumed a little more than I usually did and I'd been mixing my drinks a lot more than is prudent, but it was a family celebration after all. Anyway even in my inebriated state, I did feel that there was something not quite normal about the atmosphere and almost every one of my relatives' behaviour. They obviously asked me about my travels, but not one of them ever mentioned Codi by name. As a matter of fact not one of them mentioned her at all, unless I related a story to them.
Not that I was going into any detail about what had happened in the previous few days. I figured I'd let them assume I'd returned to the country because of the letter Beverley had sent me, asking me if I was returning to the pub for the season. After the way I'd fucked things up so completely with Lindsey and got everything all arse about face, I could just imagine what they'd make of me telling them that Codi had done the dirty on me. Can you imagine it? 'Mack's cried Wolf again!'
The other strange thing that for some time I was to have some difficulty understanding was that Lindsey's name didn't crop up in conversation either. For any of my relatives to talk to me for more than ten minutes without Lindsey's name being slipped into the conversation eventually had been very out of character for all of them for some years. In the end I figured that they were trying to keep the whole of my debacle with Lindsey and, possibly women in general, out of the conversation.
By coincidence later on some of my old mates turned up in the pub that we'd ensconced ourselves in, and they joined the party.
By an even greater coincidence, one of my mate's sisters worked in the same office building as Lindsey. Consequently later -- and I never did understand why - when I found myself standing at the next urinal to his, I found myself dropping a question that I really didn't intend to; well, consciously anyway.
"Cathy still work with Lindsey?" I asked, wishing that I hadn't asked even as the words were coming out of my mouth.
"No, mate, as I heard it Lindsey threw the job in last year. About the time you went sailing, I believe."
"Oh, do you know what happened to her?" I still couldn't understand why I persisted in asking him about her.
"Ain't got the faintest idea, Mack; Meg and Lindsey never were too pally. I think Meg said that she went back down Bristol way, where her parents live, but I can't be sure. To be honest I never took much notice when Meg mentioned it; I know Lindsey hasn't got that flat of hers anymore though. A guy from my office lives there now. Why, what's up, you missing her?"
"No, not really Nick." I lied, "Just curious about what happened to her, that's all."
"I hear tell you shacked yourself up with a right little babe out in Spain," he commented. "American, weren't she?"
Just where Nick had heard about Codi from, I had no idea, but from his statement it was apparent that her existence was common knowledge. I wondered how the word had gotten around.
"Yeah, we had a good thing going there for a while. But how come you know about her?"
"Can't remember exactly who told me, Mack. Christ, you know how the rumour mill works, mate. Supposed to be American and a real looker, so the story went. But then, you always did manage to hook the good-looking birds. Never could understand why; it ain't like you're no oil painting or nothin'," he jibed.
"Codi could take your breath away when she put a bikini on, I can promise you that," I replied, trying as hard as I could to put a convincing smile on my face.
I really didn't want to discuss Codi with anyone, but I couldn't let on that she'd shit all over me to my friends, so I had to act casually about her; as if I didn't really care.
