The Legacy

sighed and self-consciously pulled a jumper from the suitcase, folding it neatly in what was almost a reflex action. Sleeves across the shoulder then fold at the chest. She had done it a thousand times at Grange Hall; taking in laundry had been one of the ways it had demonstrated its ‘usefulness’ to the local community. Then she picked up another. Peter looked at her gratefully.
    ‘You’re not angry?’
    He seemed relieved, like he really thought everything was OK now. Anna’s eyes narrowed; she threw the two jumpers back into the suitcase, ignoring the mess lying beneath them.
    ‘Of course I’m angry.’ His words had revealed his complete lack of understanding of the situation. Now she wasn’t even going to pretend to be OK with what he was doing.
    Peter looked stunned. ‘I won’t go for long,’ he said, as though that made a difference.
    ‘You won’t go for long?’ Anna looked at him in disbelief. ‘An hour is long. A day is long. Peter, you’re leaving us alone up here. Richard Pincent wants you dead, wants us all dead, and you’re going to London? All because you want to be close to the action? What action, Peter? What could matter so much?’
    Peter sighed, cleared his throat, took a breath. ‘You know what matters so much.’ He was looking at her, but she refused to meet his eyes.
    ‘No,’ she lied. ‘I don’t.’
    ‘Yes you do,’ Peter said tightly. ‘We might be safe up here for now, but we won’t be for ever. I know you want to stay here and pretend that the world doesn’t exist, but it does. What about the Surpluses, about the children hidden in attics? And now there are dead bodies. Can’t you see? We need to fight, Anna. I need to fight.’
    Anna could feel her hands clenching into fists. He was right and she hated him for it. ‘Why can’t other people fight?’ she said in a strangled voice. ‘We’ve been fighting all our lives.’
    ‘Other people are fighting. Every day. But I can’t sit back and let them do it for me. You know I can’t.’
    ‘I know you won’t .’ Anna saw Peter’s face tighten, could feel him drifting away – already she seemed to be losing her grip on him. ‘Anyway, you can’t go now. We’ve hardly got any food,’ she said, resorting to practical obstacles, knowing already it was futile.
    ‘I’ll dig up some vegetables before I go.’
    ‘And I won’t be able to do all the planting while you’re away. Not if I’m looking after the children all the time.’ She sounded petulant and it irritated her, but she could see that it irritated Peter more. Impatience filled his eyes.
    ‘Whatever,’ he said, banging the lid of his case shut. ‘I’m sure we’ll manage.’
    ‘There’s still a “we”?’ Anna asked, sticking out her chin.
    Peter’s eyes met hers and immediately she regretted the words.
    ‘I didn’t mean . . .’ she said, but it was too late. He was heaving his case off the bed, dragging it out of the room, down the stairs.
    ‘I’ll get the vegetables now,’ she heard him say.
    ‘Don’t bother,’ she called back. It was his fault, after all, that she’d questioned their future. He’d driven her to it. ‘Go to London. See if I care. See if any of us do.’
    Margaret paused outside the door to catch her breath, collect her thoughts. It was open – the visitor was already in the room waiting for her. The visitor . . . But who?
    ‘You going in?’ The guard looked at her impatiently. She nodded.
    Slowly, she walked into the room. There was a man sitting at a small table on the other side of the toughened glass that separated them. A man who was utterly familiar and yet a total stranger.
    ‘I didn’t expect you,’ she said, her eyes narrowing. ‘Why come now? Why come at all?’
    The man stood up and smiled. ‘Margaret,’ he said. ‘It’s good to see you.’
    She pursed her lips. ‘I doubt it,’ she said. ‘I can’t imagine you relish the sight of me. The decay. I’m part of you and yet here I am, fallible. A failure. That must be hard to accept.’
    Her eyes were stony; she felt nothing but contempt for the man who was her father.
    He nodded slowly, appearing to digest her words. ‘You’re right,’ he said eventually. ‘It is hard. And yet I have made my peace with the disappointment you have given me over the years.’
    It still hurt, even though Margaret would die before letting him know. She steeled herself. ‘What are you doing here?’ she demanded.
    Richard Pincent smiled. ‘You