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Authors: Santa Montefiore
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early. Show him into my study and don’t tell me if he’s odd. I can’t cope with odd this morning.”
The brigadier sat at his usual table at the end of the dining room, beside the window. He was dressed in a three-piece tweed suit and pale yellow tie, drinking tea and reading The Times , chuckling loudly at the absurdity of the world. The room was blessed with tall ceilings and
giant windows that gave onto the magnificent cedar tree so that the
morning sun flooded the room with brilliance and lit up his head like
a halo. When he saw Marina, he staggered to his feet, in spite of her
repeatedly telling him not to, and greeted her cheerfully in a stentorian tone.
“What a delightful sight first thing in the morning.” His face was a
fleshy mass of ruddy skin and broken veins, with neatly clipped side-
burns and mustache, and a full head of thick white hair. His eyes may
have been as small as raisins, but his sight was perfect and he swept
them over her as if appraising a pretty mare. “You’re a picture of loveliness, Marina.”
“Thank you,” she said, sitting down.
“Grey lent me a very interesting book yesterday. I started reading it
last night and couldn’t put it down.”
“Which one is it?”
“Andrew Roberts’s Masters and Commanders . Great read. Beautifully written. Pure pleasure. Sometimes I wish I could turn the clock back.
Best days of my life.”
“I’m very glad we can’t do that.”
“Call me an old fool, but my life had purpose then. I had a cause to
fight for, and nothing has been as good in my life since. I’m like an old train in the junkyard, remembering happier times.”
“You have purpose, Brigadier. You have children, grandchildren, and
your great-grandson, Albert. You are certainly not in the junkyard.”
He chuckled. “Ah, yes. Children are a blessing. One doesn’t really
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The Mermaid Garden
41
feel one’s left one’s imprint on the world if one doesn’t produce off-
spring. I’ll die knowing my bloodline continues. We didn’t fight for
nothing, although most young people don’t appreciate what we did for
them. If it wasn’t for us, they’d be speaking German and kowtowing
to a load of Huns! Goddamn it!” He choked on his laughter, coughed
loudly, then cleared his throat of phlegm. “Speaking of children, how
are yours? That Jake gets taller every time I see him.” Marina didn’t
have the heart to remind him that they weren’t hers.
Talking to the brigadier had distracted her from the imminent ar-
rival of her ten o’clock interview. When Jake strode across the room,
she had almost forgotten about it altogether. “Ah, speak of the devil,”
said the brigadier.
Marina noticed the strange expression on Jake’s face. It was a mix-
ture of amusement and delight.
“Morning, Brigadier. Marina, the Biscuit has arrived,” he said.
“Why the funny look?” she asked, her stomach churning with an-
xiety.
“What funny look? He’s in your office.”
“And? Is he . . . normal?”
“I’d say he’s not normal at all.”
“You’re teasing me.”
“Just go and meet him.”
“What’s this about a biscuit?” interrupted the brigadier. “Sounds
good to me, especially if it has a little milk chocolate on the top.”
Marina reached the hall to find Shane, Jennifer, Rose, Heather, and
Bertha standing in a huddle by the reception desk, giggling like a group of silly schoolchildren. When they saw Marina, they sprang apart
guiltily. The air was charged with excitement, as if Father Christmas
had come seven months early and was waiting in her study.
“Would you like me to bring you some coffee?” asked Heather, her
cheeks aflame.
Marina narrowed her eyes. “Well, let’s see what he wants.”
“Looks like a coffee drinker to me,” said Bertha.
“And what brings you into the hotel, Bertha?” asked Marina.
“Run out of Cif,” she replied with a snigger. “Timing
The brigadier sat at his usual table at the end of the dining room, beside the window. He was dressed in a three-piece tweed suit and pale yellow tie, drinking tea and reading The Times , chuckling loudly at the absurdity of the world. The room was blessed with tall ceilings and
giant windows that gave onto the magnificent cedar tree so that the
morning sun flooded the room with brilliance and lit up his head like
a halo. When he saw Marina, he staggered to his feet, in spite of her
repeatedly telling him not to, and greeted her cheerfully in a stentorian tone.
“What a delightful sight first thing in the morning.” His face was a
fleshy mass of ruddy skin and broken veins, with neatly clipped side-
burns and mustache, and a full head of thick white hair. His eyes may
have been as small as raisins, but his sight was perfect and he swept
them over her as if appraising a pretty mare. “You’re a picture of loveliness, Marina.”
“Thank you,” she said, sitting down.
“Grey lent me a very interesting book yesterday. I started reading it
last night and couldn’t put it down.”
“Which one is it?”
“Andrew Roberts’s Masters and Commanders . Great read. Beautifully written. Pure pleasure. Sometimes I wish I could turn the clock back.
Best days of my life.”
“I’m very glad we can’t do that.”
“Call me an old fool, but my life had purpose then. I had a cause to
fight for, and nothing has been as good in my life since. I’m like an old train in the junkyard, remembering happier times.”
“You have purpose, Brigadier. You have children, grandchildren, and
your great-grandson, Albert. You are certainly not in the junkyard.”
He chuckled. “Ah, yes. Children are a blessing. One doesn’t really
30067 The Mermaid Garden.indd 40
1/21/11 2:21 PM
The Mermaid Garden
41
feel one’s left one’s imprint on the world if one doesn’t produce off-
spring. I’ll die knowing my bloodline continues. We didn’t fight for
nothing, although most young people don’t appreciate what we did for
them. If it wasn’t for us, they’d be speaking German and kowtowing
to a load of Huns! Goddamn it!” He choked on his laughter, coughed
loudly, then cleared his throat of phlegm. “Speaking of children, how
are yours? That Jake gets taller every time I see him.” Marina didn’t
have the heart to remind him that they weren’t hers.
Talking to the brigadier had distracted her from the imminent ar-
rival of her ten o’clock interview. When Jake strode across the room,
she had almost forgotten about it altogether. “Ah, speak of the devil,”
said the brigadier.
Marina noticed the strange expression on Jake’s face. It was a mix-
ture of amusement and delight.
“Morning, Brigadier. Marina, the Biscuit has arrived,” he said.
“Why the funny look?” she asked, her stomach churning with an-
xiety.
“What funny look? He’s in your office.”
“And? Is he . . . normal?”
“I’d say he’s not normal at all.”
“You’re teasing me.”
“Just go and meet him.”
“What’s this about a biscuit?” interrupted the brigadier. “Sounds
good to me, especially if it has a little milk chocolate on the top.”
Marina reached the hall to find Shane, Jennifer, Rose, Heather, and
Bertha standing in a huddle by the reception desk, giggling like a group of silly schoolchildren. When they saw Marina, they sprang apart
guiltily. The air was charged with excitement, as if Father Christmas
had come seven months early and was waiting in her study.
“Would you like me to bring you some coffee?” asked Heather, her
cheeks aflame.
Marina narrowed her eyes. “Well, let’s see what he wants.”
“Looks like a coffee drinker to me,” said Bertha.
“And what brings you into the hotel, Bertha?” asked Marina.
“Run out of Cif,” she replied with a snigger. “Timing
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