“Only an Englishman could write something so dignified and restrained. And don’t be shocked that I’ve committed it to memory; I am a historian, after all! Retaining exact quotes is part of my craft.
“But, alas, the hour grows late and there are still many questions to be answered. After Hanna had laid Glover to rest and settled his affairs, it was time for the full consequences of her fateful discovery to come to light. It never crossed Hanna’s mind that Robert was in it for money; he would have had countless opportunities to make a fortune off the Hopper. The fact that he had forbidden Glover from ever selling it proved that was never his intention. No, something far more troublesome was at play. Hanna remembered one moment from the night they fled the hunting lodge that had always bothered her: before they set out for Spain, Robert had insisted on going back to the lodge. It now made sense. It wasn’t for clothes, or that so-called secret map of weapon depots. No. It was the Hopper painting all along. Hanna could still picture the satchel Robert kept by his side for the entire escape, how he never let it out of his sight, not once during the crossing into Spain or aboard the ship. This led her to one inevitable conclusion: Sam had revealed the hiding place to Robert, and her husband had been lying about everything all along. But that wasn’t all. Remember back at the cemetery, when Jorge said that he himself had been suspected of betraying the others? Hanna had asked for news of Titon, Robert’s partner on the tandem for that ill-fated mission. She thought of him because of a lingering doubt still gnawing at her, one glaring discrepancy Hanna had observed as they first fled. An important part of Robert’s story made no sense. He claimed to have snapped the driver’s neck en route to the Germans, which would have left him stranded in the middle of a country road. So, how then had Robert managed to recover that tandem?”
“I never thought of that,” I admitted. I looked at George-Harrison.
“Me neither.”
“No, but she did,” Morrison continued. “And the only logical conclusion to this discrepancy represented a grave dilemma for lovely Hanna. Because if Robert had been lying about the bike, it could only be for one reason: he had lied about his escape . . . because, in truth, it wasn’t an escape at all.”
“And she didn’t try getting to the bottom of it by asking Robert what really happened?”
“At the time, she had good reason not to question the man who was helping to save her life. But now, the truth had turned her life upside down. There was no turning back, and Hanna was never the same again.”
“But why not just come out with it and tell him?”
“Because of the ties that bind us. Because at times we need lies, or things left unsaid, to avoid facing certain earth-shattering truths. On the trip over to see Glover on his deathbed, Hanna had been struck by several bouts of nausea. While she initially thought she was unwell out of concern for Glover, it soon became clear . . . that nature had finally given her the one dream she thought would never come true.”
“But you said Hanna already had a child—my mother.”
“Not quite. I said your mother came into the picture, and my choice of words was no accident. They had adopted your mother, Sally-Anne, because Hanna was convinced she was barren. Later, she got pregnant out of the blue. Alas, any joy came hand in hand with deep sorrow. Her future child’s father was the very man responsible for her own father’s demise. Hanna had no illusions about it: to gain his freedom, Robert must have divulged the location of the hunting lodge, and Sam and the Resistance fighters had paid the ultimate price for his betrayal. One can only imagine the Cornelian dilemma in which the poor woman found herself ensnared! Yet, Hanna wasn’t about to forget two of Glover’s cardinal rules of the art world: everyone knows everything, and discretion is essential. If the truth were to come out, it would ruin more than just their marriage. It would lay waste to their reputations, tainting their name forever. Bid adieu to the thriving art gallery. No one would even think of doing business with them after such a vile scandal.
“So, Hanna placed the Hopper in a simple art portfolio that she bound with a wax seal and stored away in her husband’s safe. She told Robert that the portfolio contained a work to which she was especially attached. She made him swear on the lives of their children never to break that seal. It was a cruel and subtle breed of revenge. Every time Robert opened the safe, his eyes would drift to that portfolio, only to wonder if Hanna had discovered proof of his guilt, or if it was all in his head. Although seemingly untenable, this status quo was maintained over the next eleven years. Of course, Hanna was never again the close, loving wife she had once been. Instead, she saved all her affection for her son. Robert, meanwhile, grew to cherish his daughter most. Sally-Anne, who did not get along with her mother, returned that love unconditionally. Until one fateful day—”