Page 84 of Atlas: The Story of Pa Salt

‘Don’t worry about it, Georg,’ Ally comforted him. ‘It’s a stressful time for us all. Are you positive that sharing won’t help?’

He let out a large sigh. ‘It’s nothing, really. Claudia was just updating me on some personal matters that I’m currently unable to resolve. That’s my job, Ally, I solve things. And it frustrates me that I’m powerless to help someone very important to me.’

Ally frowned. ‘Sorry, Georg, did you say Claudia?OurClaudia, from Atlantis? I thought you were on the phone to your sister.’

Georg’s mouth opened wide. ‘Uh, I’m sorry. Yes, I made a mistake. Well, no,’ he corrected himself, ‘I didn’t. My sister is also called Claudia. The two Claudias, aha!’

‘Did you make a mistake, Georg? Or, for once, did you actually speak the unfiltered truth?’

Georg Hoffman put his head in his hands. ‘Where are you up to in the diary?’

‘Pa’s living at High Weald.’

He took a moment to mentally check something. ‘Yes, Ally. Claudia is my younger sister. The circumstances of our meeting with your father are detailed in the pages of his journal. I will let him tell you in his own words.’

Ally was lost for words. ‘Georg... I... why on earth would that be kept a secret?’

Georg shrugged, his thread well and truly unravelled. ‘Your father was doing what he did best – protecting us, that’s all. Read on, you will see.’

Ally thought this day couldn’t get any more chaotic. The sight of a manic Georg was deeply unsettling. It was a bit like seeing the little man behind the curtain inThe Wizard of Oz, frantically operating the complex machinery to maintain the illusion. Suddenly, Ally felt a strong urge to gain control of the situation. ‘Now tell me, Georg, what was the news that Claudia was giving you? The news that literally caused you to pound the floor with rage?’

Georg threw his hands out. ‘Really, Ally, it’s nothing related to—’

Ally snapped, and grabbed Georg by the lapels of his linen jacket. ‘Georg Hoffman, for the first time in your life, you are going to tell meexactlywhat is going on. I want to know what Claudia was telling you, and I want to know why it made you so very angry. Then I want to know why you’ve had so many secretive phone calls during the past month, and why they started as soon as Claudia went on leave from Atlantis. Remember, Georg, you work for me and my sisters. And we want answers. This isn’t negotiable.’

Georg’s shoulders slumped down, and Ally looked deep into his reddening eyes.

‘Okay, Ally. I will do as you have asked. But please, do not blame me. Believe me when I tell you that I have done my best.’ Georg began to quietly sob.

‘I don’t doubt it, Georg. But we are ready for the truth.’ She released him and looked into his tear-stained eyes once more.

‘Yes. You are,’ he said emphatically.

1944–51

Personally, I have no idea why the Vaughans wish to live in their old, crumbling mansion, when this picture-perfect estate cottage, which Elle and I inhabit, exists. It has a wood-burning stove, large exposed beams and views over the rolling green expanses of the ‘Garden of England’. I love it.

In terms of work, Elle and I have found fulfilment in our everyday activities. Elle cooks for grateful mouths, and I tend the beautiful grounds that High Weald boasts. On occasion, we even manage to collaborate, with Elle utilising the produce that I grow in the vegetable patch. In all honesty, I thought that our minds would be restless and unsettled, as neither of us are able to express our passions in symphony orchestras – but the quiet, wholesome life we now live is, dare I say... preferable? Never in my life have I felt safer, or more tranquil. My landscape sketches have certainly improved, with Elle even permitting me to hang one or two on the walls of the living room.

In the evenings, we huddle together in front of the fire and read books. Occasionally we’ll switch on the wireless, to be reassured that the Allies are holding the Axis powers at bay, but in all honesty, the war seems a million miles away fromthe pastoral idyll in which we exist. As the conflict has progressed, Archie Vaughan has had to spend more time at Ashford airbase, but is endlessly chipper. His wife, Flora, is a true delight, too. She spends hours working alongside me in the gardens. Her passion for flowers clearly has the ability to soothe her soul and transport her to another world. I recognise this in her, because music does the same for me.

Flora is particularly patient with me, as she realised very quickly that I am not a gardener by trade. Each day I have learnt something new from her, and have grown to appreciate the true beauty of the natural world. It is delicate, intricate and harmonious in its majesty. During our long afternoons tending perennials and pruning shrubs, Flora has told me her story, which I must say nearly rivals my own in terms of drama. I am very happy that she and Archie eventually found one another.

‘I spent many years trying to deny love, Mr Tanit,’ she confessed to me. ‘But I have come to realise that it is a force stronger than any human being has the capacity to control.’

I smiled. ‘You’re correct there, Lady Vaughan.’

‘I know I am.’ Flora snipped a browning bud from her white rose bush. ‘Now tell me, Mr Tanit, how did you meet Eleanor?’

I pondered my response for a while as I dug out a tenacious weed. ‘We met as orphans in Paris, Lady Vaughan.’

She put her hands on her hips. ‘Goodness me! I didn’t realise that you were both parentless.’ She paused. ‘You know, Teddy...’ Flora stopped herself, and shook her head. ‘Anyway, you are both very well suited, I have to say.’ She examined a delicate white petal. ‘The older I grow, the more I begin to think that love is simply written in the stars.’

I looked up to meet her eye. ‘Oh yes, Lady Vaughan. That I know for certain.’

She tutted. ‘Please, Mr Tanit, I don’t know how many times I have to tell you. You can call me Flora.’

‘Sorry, Flora. Please, call me Bo... Bob. Robert.’