Dreaming of the Bones

upset him—”
    ”Bollocks! How do you think he’s going to feel when he finds out you couldn’t be bothered—”
    ”Shut up!” Ian rose half out of his chair. ”Just bloody shut up. It’s too close. I can’t bear it. I can’t see Kit without seeing her in him, and I don’t think I can stand that. Don’t you see? I loved her-—” He broke off and covered his face with his hands.
    After a moment, Kincaid said, ”Listen, Ian. Kit’s not with his grandparents. He ran away.” He caught a glimpse of Nathan’s startled expression and raised a restraining hand. ”I found him here. He’s staying with some friends in London until we can get things sorted out.”
    Ian raised his head. His eyes were bloodshot, the lids swollen. ”But why would he do such a thing? He was always a good kid, in spite of—”
    ”All this—Vic’s death... I don’t know how bad things were with his grandmother before, but she’s impossible now. She means to keep him, and she’s not fit to do it. And I don’t know how much power her husband has over her.”
    ”Oh, Christ.” Ian rubbed his forehead. ”Eugenia was always a bloody bitch. But I thought with Kit—”
    Kincaid shook his head. ”Kit won’t stay, and we can’t take a chance on what might happen to him if he runs away again.”
    ”I can’t have him with me, do you understand? And I can’t come back.” There was a hint of apology in Ian’s words.
    ”Let me tell you what I have in mind.” By the time Gemma came in with the tea, Kincaid had outlined a plan.
    When they’d filled their mismatched mugs from the teapot, Kincaid said, ”Ian, as far as Kit’s concerned, you’re his dad. He needs to see you. Tell him these arrangements are your idea of what’s best for him. Tell him you’ll have him for a visit at the end of term. Surely you can give him a half hour, after what he’s been through.”
    Ian looked away, and Kincaid thought he would refuse even that. But after a moment, he rubbed at his face again and sighed. ”All right. I’ll come this evening. And I’ll make the necessary arrangements with his grandparents. They’ve no right to dispute my decision.” He wrote Gemma’s address on a page tom from Kincaid’s notebook.
    Kincaid met Ian’s eyes as he returned the pad. ”Don’t tell him about me. He doesn’t need that right now.”
    Ian held his gaze, then gave a barely perceptible nod of agreement. ”I’ll get the rest of my things,” he said. ”Now— if you don’t mind...” He gave them a slightly sardonic smile as he stood.
    ”Ian,” Kincaid said before he could leave the room. ”You haven’t found one of Vic’s books in with your things, by any chance?” He described the Marsh memoir. ”And there were some poems—”
    ”Lydia’s poems?” said Nathan. ”The ones Vic found in the Marsh book?” He frowned at Kincaid. ”Why didn’t you ask me before? Vic gave them to me.”

    Cambridge , Addenbrooks Hospital
    15 December 1975

    Dear Mummy,

    No, I can’t come home. As much as my heart cries out to see your dear face, and to receive the comfort only you can give, I must get well on my own. Oh, physically, I’m all right—a few lacerations, bumps and bruises, nothing that won’t heal. They shall keep me in hospital, ”under observation,” for another day or so, and after that Daphne will come and look after me as it’s her Christmas break.
    I honestly don’t think I mean to harm myself, though I’d toyed with the idea of the grand gesture. I saw myself noble and tragic as Virginia Woolf walking into the river, stilling the clamoring voices of madness, but it was only my own voice I wanted to silence, the one that kept telling me what I’d become.
    What have I done to deserve Daphne’s forgiveness, or yours? Why do you insist on loving me in spite of myself? I’ve spent years trying to run away from my life, my past, my self. I’ve written shallow and sensational poems which traded on others’ misery. I’ve sold my voice for a few pretentious reviews in the Times. I’ve shunned my friends for the company of sycophants. I’ve tried to lose the last bit of myself that mattered, but your love held me accountable. I see now that I must try to live up to it—I can’t bear it otherwise.

    Lydia

    They’d spent most of the afternoon at Parkside police station going over things with Alec Byrne, and had achieved little more than confirming that Ian McClellan’s documents did indeed show him to have