Page 178 of Atlas: The Story of Pa Salt

She had looked as if she might cry. ‘Really, Pa? Oh, thank you, thank you. I would adore it.’ As she had moved to hug me, I noted that she kept her belly away from my embrace, so I could not feel what was growing inside her.

It will not surprise the reader to learn that Maia did not return to university to begin her third-year studies. She conveyed to me that she was experiencing a nasty bout of glandular fever, and that she would resume her course as soon as she felt able. As she grew larger and larger, I saw her less and less, and my heartache increased. In truth, I longed to wander down to the Pavilion, wrap her up in my arms, and tell her that everything was going to be all right. But I appreciated that her autonomy had to take precedence. I frequently reiterated to Marina to convey to Maia that, if she told me, I would be nothing but sympathetic and loving. But that day did not come.

Ally must have known. Maia’s eldest sister would spend long hours in the Pavilion with her, and I was glad that Marina did not have to bear the burden alone.

I thought perhaps that another member of the family had worked it out, too – Tiggy. I caught her, once, staring at Maia’s belly when I had taken my eldest a cup of tea and a slice of cake to the Pavilion. Due to her ‘glandular fever’, we were never permitted to come too close. But even from several metres away, little Tiggy’s eyes were totally fixated on her sister’s stomach.

One evening, when Maia would have been about six months pregnant, Marina told me of my eldest daughter’s decision about the future. ‘She wishes to give the child up for adoption.’ I was unsure of how to respond.

‘Is that what she truly wants?’ I asked. ‘Because if she is making this decision out of a sense of shame or guilt, I’ll simply have to say something, Ma.’

Ma nodded. ‘It is what she desires, Atlas. Wholeheartedly. She does not believe that she is ready to be a mother, and thinks that her baby will be better cared for by someone else. She said she thought of her own mother, and her decision. Because of that choice, she ended up with you as a father.’

I shook my head in disbelief. ‘What a tragedy. What a great, great tragedy.’

Ma hugged me. ‘I know,chéri. But if you take away one thing from this awfulness, it is that you should be so proud of your eldest daughter. She has been braver and more resilient than I ever thought possible. She is amazing.’

‘She is,’ I agreed. ‘Being practical, as you know I always must be, Georg is the man to speak to about where Maia’s child should be placed. I expect he’ll even be able to arrange a private adoption, by a family who will love and care for... my grandchild.’ The word pierced my heart. ‘Because, despite absolutely everything, that is who they are. We must ensure that they are given the best life possible.’

‘We will, Atlas, we will.’

‘I will transfer you a few thousand francs. Please offer to pay for any hospital or method by which Maia chooses to give birth. As usual, money is not an object.’

The child, a boy, was born three months later at a private hospital in Geneva, and Marina was with Maia every step of the way. Unbeknownst to anyone else, I had worked very closely alongside Georg to ensure that the adoptive family were well placed to give the boy all the love and care he could ever wish for. I hoped that Clara Hale would be proud.

I did not see my daughter, nor Marina, for three weeksafter the birth, under the pretence that they were on a mother–daughter holiday, as Maia had finally ‘recovered’ from her long bout of glandular fever. When she did eventually step back onto the shores of Atlantis, I held her in my arms for a very long time. I wonder if she knew thatIknew. Something tells me that, perhaps, she did.

‘I’m well enough to go back to university now, Pa. I’m feeling so much better.’

‘That is wonderful to hear, Maia. But only return when you are ready. The Pavilion will always be here for you, whenever you need it.’

‘Thank you, Pa. I love you.’

‘Not as much as I love you, little one.’

June 2008

‘He knew all along. Oh God,’ Maia cried, allowing the final pages of the diary to fall to the floor of her cabin.

‘Knew what, Maia?’ Floriano asked quizzically.

‘My baby that I gave away. Zed Eszu’s baby.’ Maia saw Floriano involuntarily bristle at the mention of the situation. She did not begrudge him that. When she had first told him of her past, he had been so sweet and understanding. But the last few days had added a lot of new context to what had happened all those years ago.

‘I’m so sorry, my darling Maia.’ He wrapped her in his arms.

‘It all sounds stupid now, reliving it from his perspective. All those months I spent cooped up in the Pavilion at Atlantis, pretending I had glandular fever. Of course he knew.’

‘But he never mentioned it, because he loved you. So much.’

‘That’s the worst thing about it, Floriano. I let him down. He was my world, and I let him down.’

‘No. Do not talk like that, my love. You knew nothing of the past he shared with this Kreeg. You were targeted. An innocent victim. Nobody could ever possibly blame you.’

Floriano stood and went to draw the curtains of the cabin, as darkness had begun to descend on theTitan.

‘Pa and Georg worked together to find a suitable family. I could find out who my son has become.’

Floriano bent down to the miniature fridge and pulled out a beer. ‘It is as if the winds of coincidence are swirling around the ship. Would you like anything?’ he asked Maia.