Book XII: Part Four

 

 

 

He had propped up the letter on his desk and sat unmoving in his chair, staring with the intensity - and caution - one might pay to an unexploded bomb. There were few doubts about the letter's contents. It had been written on fine handmade paper using a fountain pen, an old fashioned touch that only seemed to add to his sense of portent. This was not the kind of note one scrawls to rearrange a rendezvous or titillate a lover with some intimate tease. Nowadays cell phones and computers had all but replaced such trivial communications. It could have been a billet doux, but as it was neither perfumed nor elaborately addressed, that seemed unlikely. Even the writing had an almost perfunctory feel. 'Sergei', written with a staccato scrawl that seemed in itself laced with regret; the pen had skimmed the paper at speed, eager for the task to be over and done. Zoe had been afraid that she would be too late, and that he might return at any minute; she would have thus been forced to tell him to his face.

Sergei swallowed involuntary, his mouth and throat suddenly parched and the reflex action caused his some discomfort. It was, however, an attempt to control the pounding in his head where a pulsing vein betrayed his shock and anguish. His hand reached for the bottle of vodka, already uncorked by his side. He poured a large slug, drank, then smashed the glass against the wall at the other side of the room. Liquor spattered outwards, a silent scream mouthing long after the shatter of breaking glass had subsided. He sunk his head into his hands.

Why? Why had she done this? Why had she run? Why now, when they had everything to gain? 

Sense told him he ought to open the letter if he required an answer. There was always a remote chance if might explain her irrational behaviour. There had to be some explanation for her decision, surely? Yet by the same token he was not sure he wished to hear it. Whatever it was, it would not be good enough to excuse her this time. Nothing would ever be good enough again. She had been the only thing that made any sense of his existence. As she walked away, she took along the very last traces of his humanity.

So was this then indeed to be the price? There always had to be a reckoning in life. He had known this all these many years. One day, his would arrive. And now, arrive it had, in the shape of a beautiful woman who had blasted a hole through all his presumptions and beliefs, made him dare to hope that sentimental and naive dreams might come true, only to take away the forbidden fruit just as he had taken a bite - and was lost. Much had been granted to him in his meteoric rise to be the dizzy heights of the international corporate world, yet the cost had always been to his personal happiness. He had no family to speak of, other than his beacon, the little child Nikolai, There were few real friends. Nothing but his power and wealth to keep him warm at night. Even so, it wasn't just a matter of losing a woman he wanted. Want, desire, need - all those things seemed passing obsessions to him.

He loved Zoe Thorne. He loved her hopelessly, boyishly, innocently, without caution or restraint. She offered everything he had never even known he had longed for in life -- until this moment when the dream he had conjured was shattering, like the fragile glass it had always really been, leaving the silent scream reverberating around his head.

It appeared Zoe was not prepared to commit to him for reasons of her own -- he knew he would probably never fully understand. He could not work her out. He had never been able to read her correctly. Perhaps that had been part of what attracted him most. Here was a woman who seemed unaffected, if not repelled, by the world he belonged to when everyone else he had ever met wanted to own a part of him. He had thought she had wanted his heart, not his power or wealth - and that had been the hypnotic lure that had drawn him blindly in. He had loved the unpredictability of her, the intelligent free spirit that valued her own independence and wished to forge her way in life, even after all she had endured. He had loved her for her strength and purity of soul, her unconditional acceptance of her own failures and responsibilities. She had been prepared to put everything she had on the line to recompense for her own failures. Most people avoid blame-taking at all costs, twisting and turning in the wind to throw doubt on others merely to extricate themselves.

But not Zoe. She had never hid behind pretence or self-delusion as most people do. She had always been true to herself whatever that cost her. Or whatever it had cost him, and all those who loved her. Now he stared the truth in the face. He had wanted to give her his heart but fate had decreed instead she would take away his soul.

Sergei Litvinov picked up the letter and held it to his face, as if to capture her final caress. This might be the last part of her he ever owned. Inserting a letter opener, elegantly slicing in a definitive gesture honed steel through fine paper, to remove its contents, shaking out the fragile sheet to read:

 

 

Crumpling up the paper in his fist, he bent double, rocking back and forth at the confirmation he had so much dreaded. His first emotion was sorrow, as deep and gut-wrenching as if this letter had announced her death, but it was quickly replaced by another instinct - rage. For months this woman had held him in thrall, played with his life as if he were a marionette on a string. No more. Never again. Not in this life.

With a lunge, he thrust the chair away from the desk and stood up, striding across the room, flinging open the door. 

"Miss Khusnyetsova!" 

"Sir?" She stood to attention, immediately sensing his wrath, the earlier sound of breaking glass having already alerted the outside office that the note, delivered earlier that day by a beautiful woman who had refused to leave her name, had been a harbinger of bad tidings.

"Did you see who brought this letter?" He did not clarify which letter of all his daily mail he meant, but it was hardly necessary. The handwritten and hand-delivered note had caused some speculation within the office already.

"No, sir. The young lady left it with reception. It seemed personal so I left it unopened on your desk..." 

Only the tic in a muscle in his cheek gave Sergei away. "Any further communications from this woman - her name is Zoe Thorne - please destroy, unopened. I want her blocked. I will not accept calls, mails or any other kind of contact. Is that clear? I don't ever wish to hear her name again..."

Olga Khusnyetsova remained impassive, keeping her thoughts to herself. This had to be the woman he had taken to the Gala dinner, the woman who had made such a stir there, mentioned in the London and Moscow society pages the following week. It was obvious she had meant a great deal to Sergei, but the little fool had turned him down. What was wrong with young women these days? What girl would not want a man like him? None of this she betrayed, however, in her usual efficient and emotionless response.

"Certainly, sir. Miss Zoe Thorne. I will ensure all the relevant desks are notified..." 

"Good. Call my pilot. I need to get out of here. Moscow, this evening. Have the nanny prepare Nikolai for travel. He shall accompany me. That is all...!"

He turned back to the refuge of his office, his cave, but an afterthought brought him up short. "Hold my calls. Enough for one day..." and slammed the door behind him. He had said too much already.

Once back inside Sergei sank onto the floor, on his knees, burying his head in his hands. Somewhere inside himself he had to find the strength to move on. This woman could not be allowed to destroy him. He would not let that happen. Passion has many faces, deep love a mere broken heart away from intense hatred. So, she had made a mistake when she had turned to him, had she? She had let him believe she cared for him when it was nothing more than rebound from the death of another man? Which other man? Costello? Or this recent lover? Did she even know herself? What kind of pathetic and unsatisfactory reasoning was that? He had had enough of her waywardness and unpredictability. She was only one woman. There were plenty of women in the world.

In future, he would keep them all at bay. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

 

Liam had found the exercise challenging enough to hold his interest; up to that point, it had been a fascinating experience. But the long session of intense yogic meditation he was currently attending was proving somewhat more trying. Throughout the session, he had been possessed of a strong urge to giggle manically. A quick peek showed him all the earnest faces around him, intent on freeing themselves from the distraction of their overactive minds, clearing their thoughts, becoming one with the air and the spirit around them. They had opened their chakras and channelled their pranas. They had located their inner qi. Namaste, mate. Liam, however, couldn't get his head round any of it. He rather liked his bothersome thoughts and the inner turmoils of his mind. It was where he went to relax, work it all out, make sense of the madness. Why the hell would he want it empty?

Jake had taken him to Ganeshpuri, a famous ashram in the hills outside Mumbai for a four-day retreat. Today was the first full day and Liam was beginning to doubt he would go the distance. Jake, however, was loving it. His friend was close by in a relaxed lotus position, eyes closed, deep trance. It made him wonder if there was something wrong with him that he found it so hard to switch off. Or maybe he was the only sane one? What was up with these people?

The room was stifling in the late afternoon sun, a heavy miasma of heat rolling in from outside, despite the shady high-ceilinged, wooden room on stilts where the class was being held. Every door and window was thrown open for ventilation but the afternoon was so still that even the ancient fans overhead did little but waft about hot, humid gasps of air. Sweat trickled down the loose cotton tunic he wore, pooling at the crotch of his shapeless baggy pants. The clothes were regulation garb, faded and worn, intended to free the students from vanity and self-awareness, to detach them from their life of possessions and care, the leveler within this mandala to inner self-knowledge. Liam worried about catching a skin condition from the last wearer. His sensitive nose was picking up unpleasant body odours. Some of his fellow classmates were rather too devoted to the regimen for his tastes; washing seemed low on their list of priorities. He suppressed a grin. There was self-awareness for you - he had become such a princess, almost as bad as his sister. Yet he wasn't about to apologise for not finding sweat appealing. Maybe the yoga was working after all. His senses were beginning to take over.

Liam's ears eagerly picked out the background buzz from outside: distant voices; the rhythmic pounding of stone against stone, someone grinding out spices for the evening meal; the absurdly contrary crackle of a poorly-tuned radio belting out western pop; a child crying giving him immediate thoughts of his own little daughter far away. She would be one soon. He probably wouldn't be around. How to turn off the mind? The more he sank into himself, the stronger the external images that invaded became. Or maybe that was the point? To become aware? Who knew?

Eager for any distraction to pass time more quickly, his eyes surreptitiously darted about the room. A movement to the left caught his attention, a silvery dark flash moving smoothly between the mats. Liam frowned and concentrated. Seconds later he realised to his horror what he had seen. Slithering around the person in front of him, heading straight in his direction, was a snake. Not just any snake, either, but what even he could recognise as a cobra. For long seconds he froze in fear, almost immobilised by the shock of proximity to this dangerous reptile. His fear was compounded moments later when the glide of the snake came to a stop, coiling before his mat, rearing up, its head waving hypnotically mere inches from Liam's face, the hood up. Liam wondered if he would pass out with fear. He was meditating now. All other thoughts had fled.

"Jake!" he muttered, hoarsely. "For Christ's sake, Jake! There's a fucking cobra staring at me! Get someone..." 

"...Close your eyes. Forget the snake. Forget where you are. Feel only your body. Sink into yourself. The snake will not harm you unless you startle it. If you stay still and carry on with your deep meditation, he will soon pass by..." The calm voice of the yogi droned. The old bastard had known the snake was in the room and never even tried to warn them?

Forget the snake? Liam stared unblinking. The snake stared back. They locked eyes. It was insane. Moments passed, dripping down his prickly spine like the sweat that had preceded it - but this time cold and chill, freezing every muscle in his body into a rigor. He could not have moved even had he wanted to.

Then, as if at some secret signal, the hood receded, the snake sank down amidst its coils and slithered sinuously away, to disappear as quickly as it had come, out past the other students, all of whom did not seem to have even turned a hair at the incident. Pouring its body through the door, with a final flick of its tail, it was gone.

Liam jumped up, shaking visibly, rubbing at his limbs as if revolted by the experience. He'd seen enough snakes in Australia to give them plenty of respect. A king cobra rears up at you in a confined space? Only a fool isn't frightened by something like that. "Are you all fucking nuts? I could have been killed there! And none of you even moved, ya looney bastards...! Go after the damn thing, why don't you? Catch it! Kill it! It's out there lurking in the long grass or under the building. ...You cannot seriously allow it to wander freely...! There are kids running around out there!" he shouted.

"This is India..." The yogi answered, his voice still modulated in an even tone. "The snake has as much right to his domain as we do. More indeed. Who are we to choose what lives and dies? He did not touch you. He will not harm us. Snakes often appear in this place. It is what makes this site holy. It is why we built our ashram here. But seldom do they pay so much attention to one person. You should feel very blessed, my son. It is a good omen...You have been chosen..."

"Blessed? Chosen? Are you nuts? The fucking thing could have bitten me. He didn't exactly look friendly..." 

"...But he did not bite you. Instead he bowed and retreated. You won the day. The cobra is the king of snakes, my son. He is strong and powerful, fast and unforgiving. You cannot outrun or outsmart him. Yet he chose to respect you. The snake is the essence of lingga, the male force, phallic and ageless. He is wise, the bearer of truth - or the bringer of death. His kiss can be the kiss of wisdom or the mortal bite of venom. Today, he chose you and gave you his blessing. That is very fortuitous indeed..."

"Fortuitous? It's bloody lucky, I'm not dead, you mean..." Liam retorted, with a hefty dose of scepticism, still rattled by the whole experience. 

Jake took his arm. "He means it, Liam. It's like you're the chosen one. The king cobra is a powerful symbol of life and fertility. It's a very special omen to people here. Male power. But then, you always were The Man, hey?" Jake grinned. "Maybe you should see it as a different kind of omen, Liam. Sometimes things just seem happen, for no apparent reason but yet there is a reason somewhere, a karmic consciousness. Let life happen. Don't fight against fate. Go with it, and who knows? You might find yourself happier than you ever thought possible in those days when you raged against it all. Come on...let's take a walk outside. I know you freaked out there, man, but you have to admit, it makes a good story... You're still here, aren't you? And if you'd been meditating properly with your eyes shut, you wouldn't even have known, would ya? Can't you shut down even for a few minutes?'

Liam laughed, shrugging, allowing Jake to talk him down. "Nope. Only when I'm asleep. Maybe you're right, mate. I've always hated snakes, though. I'm not much good with creepy crawlies, either. Zoe used to be the one who got rid of spiders and stuff. She's fearless. Always was. If they don't scurry away when she approaches, she bloody nags the fucking things to death. You got a lucky escape, mate... And while we're on the subject, there'd better not be any snakes in our bed tonight. Well, apart from the ones we bring with us, that is...Our own bloody linggas...what the fuck is all that phallic power crap anyway...?"

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

 

Her parents were waiting at the airport as Zoe and Andreas rounded the barrier from customs; they were struck by how wan she looked, not her usual glowing and well-groomed self. Her hair was scraped back into a messy little pony tail. Her pale face bore not a trace of makeup. Andreas was tetchy, either needing sleep or having had too much, groggy from such a long flight without a stopover. He had probably been hell to occupy. No wonder she looked rough.

Terry and Annie stepped forward. Andreas whooped with excitement and dashed over to throw himself into his grandma's arms, his grumpy mood forgotten in an instant. Zoe trailed behind wheeling the luggage. Terry strolled over to her, placing his hands on her arms and pulling her against him for a hug. She nestled against him, sagging into his body; a small, almost involuntary, sigh escaping.

"Okay?" "Not really." 

"You gonna tell us what's up?" 

"Yeah. Later. When Big Ears has gone to bed." 

She smiled softly into his neck as he whispered, "Whatever it is, it's going to be easier now. Sometimes you have to stop trying to make things work for them to have a chance..." Zoe flashed him a look. Her father had obviously read it all wrong, imagining that Sergei had done something wrong or that it hadn't worked out after all. Sergei do something wrong? The idea struck her as so absurd. It was only then that it seemed to fully hit her, like a hammer blow.

She had lost him. The man she loved beyond words. So deep in denial for so long had she been that she had never even known the truth until she had had to say goodbye. Sergei had burrowed deep into her emotions, bypassing all the normal channels. Her perfect man. The one she had never dared hoped for. Hers all along. Irony piled on irony. She had let chance deprive her of the greatest gift. It felt like bereavement, not the end of an embryonic affair. The whole sorry mess was unjust and senseless, the ultimate satirical turn. To discover how much you loved someone only when you had been forced to give him up.

"....Straight up, Daddy, or maybe to finally accept that sometimes, they just never will," she replied with a sad ghost of a smile. 

It was hours later before the three of them sat down and could speak freely. Annie had taken Andreas as soon as they had reached the beautiful house on the harbour but the little boy had been so animated to be back home, remembering so much and keyed up despite his exhaustion, that it had been hard to settle him. At last, however, he was asleep. Annie wondered if Zoe too ought to turn in; they could always talk the next day. But her daughter shook her head. Whatever had brought her back so suddenly was on her mind; she needed to unload her burden.

"Glass of wine?" Terry asked, walking through with a corkscrew in one hand and a chilled bottle of white in the other. Annie found glasses. 

Zoe shook her head. 

"Not for me, Dad. But you two go ahead." 

"White wine? No chance. Your mother'll have to drink the bottle. Wouldn't be the first time, either. I'll have a Scotch." 

At last they had settled down, Zoe stretched out on the couch staring through the open French windows out to sea. The night was mild but the harbour waters choppy, a wind blowing in. The door blew back with a sudden gust. Annie got up to close it. "No! Leave it open. I need the fresh air," Zoe insisted. It seemed important to her that she had space to breathe.

Her mother sat back down. "What happened? What did Sergei do, darling?" 

Zoe smiled absently, shaking her head. "Everything right that a man can possibly do. This is not about Sergei Litvinov, Mum." 

Terry and Annie said nothing. A long pause ensued. Suddenly their daughter sat up, swung her legs round and began speaking. "There isn't an easy way to tell you this, so I'll just come out with it. I'm pregnant. About ten weeks. It isn't Sergei's, obviously. I just....I just couldn't take any more. We were so close to something extraordinary. I've been pretending to myself for so long. Not any longer though. I have loved Sergei from almost the first moment I met him. And since then I have been running scared."

Her explanations came out in staccato, random sentences. "These past few days I've found something out about myself. For all these years when I've longed for love, I don't think I really want it at all. I was getting off on being the tragedy queen. But a real adult relationship when it offered itself? I didn't have the guts to take it on. I wanted men who were shadows of what I really needed, men who could offer me some easy-to-manage fantasy version of what love was. Only Sergei was the real deal. And I was not able to face what it might cost me again to really love a man..."

Annie was still dealing with the revelation about her pregnancy to fully comprehend her daughter's declarations. "Pregnant? You mean by this guy Tom? What were you thinking? Didn't you use contraception? You meet a guy and sleep with him and take no precautions? Are you insane?"

"Shut up, Annie," Terry interrupted bluntly. "If she's pregnant, you know the answer already, so why ask the bloody question at a time like this? Leave her alone!"

Zoe looked across at her father and gave him a tentative smile. "I absolutely hate having to tell you this. Imagine having to admit to my father and mother what a cheap little fool I've been...?"

"Cheap?" Terry asked. "What do you mean? Men and women have sex when they're involved in a relationship. And sometimes babies are the result. It's kind of the biological point of it all, I believe..." he observed drily. "...That is not exactly being cheap..."

"I will have two children both by different fathers, neither of whom I married!" Zoe exclaimed. 

"Both men whom you cared about very much. Both men who were taken before they could do the decent thing. You were not sleeping around..." 

"...but I have slept around. Do you know how many men I have had sex with this year alone? 'Cause I don't. It was a lot, though. I pick men up and sleep with them. For kicks. And then there were men like Jamie. Regular partners whom I shagged when I was bored or lonely. Frequently. I used Jamie for years. Almost ruined his life...Jake, too. I'm poison for men. Brook, Nick, Tom - all dead. Because of me. Sergei, Jake and Jamie - badly hurt. I think that qualifies for cheap status, at the very least..."

"Did you leave Sergei only because of this baby?" Annie asked, almost ignoring her daughter's outburst. 

It had clearly upset Terry, however; he said nothing. Not that anything Zoe had admitted was new to him, but somehow, to hear it from her own mouth was another thing entirely than knowing it from his own judgement. She was wrong. She would never be cheap. But he couldn't bear to imagine some of the things she was speaking of. His own daughter. Picking up men in bars. Letting them use her. The utter degradation of it left him speechless. She was worth so much more - why did she punish herself so?

Zoe shrugged. "Well, what else could I do? The man adores me! And I'm carrying someone else's baby? How can I ask that of him? He must want children of his own. I won't want another for several years, at least...Sergei's already bringing up his brother's son and offering to be a father to Andreas...and then he has to stand by while I spend our first years pregnant or nursing a baby? How is that fair...?" "It's still early days, Zoe. Maybe you should consider a....." Annie began.

Zoe's head shot round to her mother's direction "Consider? Consider what, exactly? A termination? An abortion? Tom Quinn loved me, Mum! He gave his life for me! All that's left of that beautiful man is this baby, inside my womb, safe from harm. How could I repay his sacrifice by getting rid of his child like so much inconvenient rubbish? A child of our bodies, made in love, a child like Andreas? It's unthinkable! How could you even suggest it? I should kill Tom's baby so that another man can jump into the vacant spot in my bed? That's obscene...!"

"Annie...enough...!" Terry muttered. 

Annie looked shocked, not having expected the total rejection of her suggestion. 

"I was only trying to...!" Annie pleaded, upset herself now. 

"Not now! Please. Not now, Annie!" Terry cut her short. 

"...I just can't bear for you and Sergei not to have this chance!" Annie continued regardless. "You love each other. How can you be apart? It's so wrong! You'll both be so unhappy!" Annie cried out, tears running down her cheeks.

Zoe drew herself up to face both her parents. "I have to let him go. It's my decision and not one I took lightly. There's no other way. I cannot ask this of Sergei... The mistake was wholly mine, not his... He must not pay any more for my life choices..."

"You think he isn't suffering already? What does he know of this? Did you tell him about the child?" Annie said. 

"No." Zoe's answer came back immediately. 

"Why not? Why did you not tell him? How could you have left him with some lie, to think that you didn't love him enough...That is so cruel...!" 

"I didn't tell him the truth because if I had, he would have married me anyway. That's how much of a fool Sergei Litvinov is for me. But I can't ask it of him. I just can't. And that is my final decision! Do not dare interfere! I didn't tell you all this to ask for your help. I just wanted you to know everything this time. I'm sick of lies and half-truths. I want you to know what kind of woman I am. I promised Sergei that there would be no more pretence but I couldn't keep that promise. For his own good. Yet I will with everyone else. No more deception. You need to know what I have done..."

Terry reached out, taking her hands in his. She was on the verge of an emotional collapse, only her will holding it all together. She needed support, not interrogation. The facts could come out later. They were not important for now. "It's okay. Zoe, it's okay. Calm down. Annie - please, get a hold of yourself! We'll work this out together. As a family. I want to make one thing absolutely clear. This is not about your reputation or morals, Zoe. There is nothing you have told us tonight that suggests anything other than that you are a fine young woman who has endured traumatic events with courage and honesty. We know what sex is, and the powerful drive it has on us all. We also know that this is not really about sex at all. It's about love. You're searching for love, baby. And whenever you've found it, life has been cruel and taken away your chances for a settled future with a good man. This is not about 'what will my father - or my mother - think of me.' We think exactly the same as we did before you told us. That you are our daughter and that we are proud to be your parents. We will respect your decisions even if we believe you're being unduly harsh on yourself. I will make one observation, however. A man deserves to know the truth. Sergei Litvinov has a right to know the real reason. He loves you and his decisions are his own, just as yours are. You shouldn't be making them for him. But, first and foremost, you are my daughter, so I will not interfere in your life..."

Terry motioned to her to come to him and she did, slipping onto his knee and into his arms, to curl up as she had done when a young girl and they had made peace over some minor act of misbehaviour. He rocked her gently in his arms, letting her cry. She needed tears now more than ever.

"I love him so much...I love him so much...! I never told him how much I loved him...and now he's gone...! How will I live without him?" 

He didn't know for sure which man she referred to. Tom Quinn or Sergei Litvinov? Was she even sure herself? 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

 

Later that night, after Annie had settled Zoe and gone to bed herself, Terry sat out on the wide sweeping grand patio overlooking the harbour. It was chilly and windy; he was indifferent. There was a bottle of malt at his elbow to keep him warm. After thinking for a long time, he called Dino.

"Mate? I know I'm always asking for something when I call these days..." 

"As long as it's not a kiss, we're cool," Dino responded. "It must be late down there?" 

"It is." 

"Fire away..." 

"I read something in the newspaper today. I'll read it out... British press...." 

"A walker out early this morning on the beach at the popular Cornwall resort of Looe, made the gruesome discovery of the body of a middle-aged woman, washed up by the tide. Police have identified the dead woman as Miss Tessa Phillips, a resident of nearby Polperro. Preliminary investigations suggest she fell from the cliff while jogging. No evidence of suicide has been found..."

"The bitch from MI5?" 

"Yeah." 

"You think she jumped? Maybe you and Liam scared her well, my friend..." 

Terry pondered that, pulling at his lip thoughtfully. "No. She's not the scare-easy type. Get me a copy of the autopsy. Not the local coroner's version. MI5's. They'll have done their own investigation..."

"You got it. Might take a few hours but I'll do what I can to put my foot on this one..." 

"Appreciate it." 

"What's your gut feeling?" 

"She was offed." 

"MI5?" 

"Could be." 

"You're hiding something, Tio mio," 

"This one you're better off not knowing. Believe me..." 

Dino accepted that. It would not have been said idly. 

"Everything okay?" 

"So so. Zoe's pregnant. Annie's upset. We'll deal with it," he replied honestly. 

"Pregnant? By whom? Or immaculate conception?" 

Terry laughed despite himself. "No, conception the usual way." 

"Litvinov?" 

"No. Guy called Quinn." 

"The dead G-man? Jesus Christ!" 

"No, Jesus Christ would be the Immaculate Conception, mate. MI5 use standard methods of penetration, so I believe..." he retorted drily. 

"Mel said Litvinov was back on the scene..." 

"He was. No longer. It's over. Zoe's a bit of a mess but she'll live..." 

"Crap. Thought Ruskie had more about him than that. He drop her because of the baby?" 

"No, she dropped him because of the baby. Motivation here is a little skewed. She's highly emotional. Lots of guilt about Quinn. Feels she can't ask Litvinov to take this on...."

"Hardly the time for a woman to be making sane judgements. Mel was like a blubbing jelly when she was pregnant. Wouldn't have trusted her emotions to pick out new bedroom curtains, never mind negotiate that minefield..." Dino observed.

"That's a little judgmental, Red. Women are not completely at the mercy of their hormones. Be fair. Zoe has a point...It's not much of a start to a romance if your girlfriend is honking her guts up with morning sickness. - and it isn't even your baby..."

Dino gave it some thought. "If you love a woman, you stick by her." 

"Would you have?" Terry laughed bitterly. Neither of them had been the type of man much given to acceptance of another dog on their patch. 

Dino laughed back. "Ah well, I was a bit of a boyo, as you well know. But I'll tell you this, man. I never let down a woman I loved. And neither did you..."

Terry shook his head. "Not true, mate. Not for me anyway. I let plenty down...I'm not sure we would have seen it quite like that way back then..." 

Dino checked his watch, not wanting to argue with him. Terry was in one of his melancholy moods. It was two thirty a.m. in Sydney; Terry's huskier-than-usual voice hinted of a goodly amount of Scotch. It wasn't the time to call him on negativity where his own life was concerned.

"I better go chase up this report for you. Go to bed. I'll mail it while you're asleep. Expect it in the morning..." 

Long after he had hung up, Terry sat on, deep in thought, his laptop on the table nearby. He wouldn't rest until he knew for sure. An hour and a half later, the mail came in.

"Report attached but here's the nutshell. The body had a bullet wound. Back of the head. Professional job, close up. They say, shot on the cliff edge, execution-style, pushed over..."

Terry breathed out slowly. Tom Quinn. Had to be. The guy was alive, just as he had suspected. Tom Quinn ought to be told he was going to be a father. Just like he should have been told by Tessa all those years ago. And yet...if he told Quinn, then his daughter would no doubt end up linked with another guy in the murky world of intelligence. Quinn would be the type to stand by her. It was the last thing Terry wanted. Quinn had used Zoe, whatever his personal feelings had been. Quinn would continue to live in the twilight zone of counter-intelligence, drawing her back into danger - or at the best giving her the kind of high pressure life no father would want for his child. Any chance for her future with Litvinov would be over.

So much for the rights of the father. Terry closed down the computer. He had no intention of telling Zoe what he had discovered. If Quinn had wanted Zoe enough, he would have found a way to get to her, or let her know he was safe, 'dead' or not. Quinn didn't deserve her, very much as he himself had never deserved Tessa, or their child. The synchronicity of it all made a deep impression on Terry. Tessa, too, had been pregnant and alone, emotionally vulnerable, just as Zoe was now. The decisions Penny had made had not been entirely sound. Who could have blamed her? He had married Penny. Tessa knew he would have been unable to do more than offer a limited financial support at best and would have run a mile from any closer involvement. It was easy with the benefit of hindsight for him to be sanctimonious about his rights. In reality, he would have been furious and have wanted as little to do with it all as possible. He would probably have demanded a termination.

Young men, hey? He thought again of his daughter and felt prouder than ever of her choices. Zoe could have had the world with Sergei Litvinov, but she had given it all up for her child, asking nothing of any man in return. He would do everything in his power to support his daughter's decision. She had to have that emotional cushion. The lesson of Tessa Phillips was something he would never forget. A woman might give up a lot for a man - even the man himself - and move on. But if she should lose her child, then the damage was never going away. He wished he could quite say the same for men. He wasn't sure it would ever be the same.

Or maybe it was? What would he give up for his three children and his grandkids? His life would be the least of what he would offer. Not three. He had forgotten the fourth, the daughter he had never known and never would. In his head, he had already discounted her from the tally of those he recognized as his own. Male reasoning, logical and sane, but the kind of mindset that created women in the image of madonnas or whores, all the same. Thus proving his general point. Some children counted and some did not. To a man, that is, whose body merely provided them, but did not bear the consequences. Tom Quinn was a man. QED. He ought to try and understand his own motivation and think long and hard about his eagerness to reject this other child. But he would not. If he did, he might not like the results. If he did not, he wasn't sure he would much like them either. He was used to guilt. It almost seemed an end in itself.

So he grasped at guilt instead of self-knowledge, much as he had been doing all his life. At least he had finally realized why he was so drawn to it. Would Tom Quinn see it the same? Possibly not. Too late for him anyway. He had made his choices. Now he would have to live with them, too...

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

 

After their trip to the ashram, Liam and Jake made what they perceived as almost a pilgrimage to Tamil Nadu, to visit Nate Lapenti, who had taken a year off to work with a charity attached to the Asian Development Bank, building houses in the region for the thousands of dispossessed tsunami families. It was important work although, even after the short time they had spent travelling around using local buses and trains and living with the ordinary people, they realised how aid of any sort in stricken areas would only ever be a drop in the ocean. Yet, for all that, the great Indian cities they had visited were modern, the economy was booming and many people enjoyed a standard of living unimaginable in more rural areas. It was a vast subcontinent of contrasts, ancient cultures and age-old wisdom on one hand, but on the other inbuilt social exclusion rife in the caste-system. It made one think, confusing perceptions gained in an affluent west with all the so-called answers.

Nate was thrilled to have visitors, eager for news of home, and proud to show off the fruits of his labour. For a week, Liam and Jake joined the team of young volunteers from all corners of the globe, refusing to allow their celebrity status to get in the way of their desire to take part. At first the others kept a distance, either a little overawed or brusquely offended by what they saw as spoiled young princes bringing photo-opportunity charity. But, as no press was in sight and the two famous men did their fair share, they were soon accepted as everyone here was, on the basis of their contribution.

Both wished they could stay longer, despite the primitive conditions and the fierce and unforgiving climate. The people were a delight, so positive in their future vision, seeing each little tiny step forward as a major event for which to give thanks. They lacked any sense of injustice or that life had dealt them a bad hand. Maybe it was their religion that required acceptance of their lot, or maybe it was some inner sense of the true values in life. Liam felt more than ever that helping those less fortunate did far more for the aid worker than any of the meagre acts of charity they supplied. He was now more determined to put into operation his intention to set up a foundation back home for indigenous youth who were excluded from opportunity. Everything he encountered appeared to be a sign urging him to something worthwhile with the excessive wealth that fame and fortune had given him. Just as in the incident with the snake, each step of what he now felt was an epic journey seemed weighted with significance; fate was pointing him to an intended goal.

They met Nate's friend, the American girl whose presence in Nate's life had bothered Dino so much. Ariel Kreiger was not an unwashed hippie dressed in secondhand store clothes spouting naive and little-understood platitudes against corporate America, as Dino had implied. He had never even met the girl, merely imagining that his son must have fallen under the spell of a hippy-dippy weirdo. The real Ariel was a pretty wholesome blonde, a bright and talented honours student who had little patience with the aggressive rebellion of the rent-a-crowd mentality of many transient backpackers. She had completed her degree and chosen to give some time to a worthy cause. She was realistic about what they might achieve, well aware that corruption and inequity in the host country was as much to blame for the ills of the subcontinent as any perceived western guilt. It annoyed her intensely when she met travelers who railed against western companies employing young people and woman at low wages in sweat shops. The practice might be wrong but the jobs were all they had. Don't complain unless you offer them an alternative, Ariel would argue. Coming in and closing down their only means of livelihood on a moral crusade against exploitation was worse than the original situation. Fight for their rights to a decent pay. Encourage people back home to accept higher prices for goods made overseas. She would not tolerate naive arrogant yahoos do-gooding in areas they did not understand - and ruining countless lives in their blinkered progress.

Liam liked Ariel very much. There were times when her infectious positivism, down-to-earth good sense and forthright honesty reminded him of a younger Fliss. Nate was a shrewd cookie to hold onto this lovely girl. Dino would adore her if he ever met up with Ariel and gave her a chance. It crossed Liam's mind more than a little how like his father Nate was, even if they were on very different paths in life. Dino, even if he liked to pretend otherwise, hated injustice, spending his life working against it, protecting the innocent from those who preyed on them. It amused Liam how Dino complained about his son's decisions when they were much the same as his own had been. He knew it wasn't really about disagreeing with Nate, as much as he wanted his son's life to be easier, safer, less eventful than his own had been - for his son's good. But life wasn't like that. We are what we are. You can't deny your genetic makeup. Nate and Ariel understood from the start that Jake and Liam were more than just mates, exhibiting an instinctive acceptance common with young people amongst their peers It was refreshing. It was also the first time that either man had considered 'coming out.'

Nate commented only once. "I didn't realise you were bi..." 

"I'm not. Your virtue's safe..." Liam replied with a grin. 

Nate chuckled. "Just an experiment?" 

"Not really. I discovered that love doesn't seem to know about gender..." 

"You and Jake serious? Finished with women?" 

Liam laughed. "You crazy? I love women. I'm as straight as you are. I'm already having improper thoughts about the comely Ariel. Nothing's changed, mate. I want all the usual things, a wife, more babies, and a hell of a lot of gratuitous sex with as many ladies as possible beforehand. So does Jake. But for now, we're letting this thing happen. You grossed out, mate?"

Nate shook his head. "No way, man. I've often wondered myself, you know? Not that I generally lust after guys but, like, why shouldn't we try it, man? Sex is sex. Guess I'm curious mostly. Want to taste it all. Only got one life..."

"I'm not sure this is about sex, Nate. It's more emotional. A deep friendship. Trust. Discovery. Another level. Hard to explain..." 

"What happens when one of you meets a girl? You thought ahead? It could be really tough on the other guy..." Nate's perceptive question impressed Liam. He had his father's unemotional grasp of human behaviour.

"I don't know. There have been women; okay, nothing serious, but we do date when we get the chance. A real affair would change everything though, I guess. No woman would accept us, we know that. But we're both realistic. This is for now. I'll tell you something for nothing though, kid. Jake will always be my closest friend. Nothing could get between what we've shared now."

Nate gave that some thought. "What's the difference between loving a woman and loving a man? Or is it the same?" 

Liam grinned. "Not the same. Loving a man is easy. I understand how he thinks, what he wants. Women? Who the hell ever understands them?" 

"Isn't that the point, though?" Nate observed thoughtfully with a maturity that Liam thought he was himself still striving for. "I mean, your dad and my dad. They've been friends for centuries. Shared more than most men. Yet, I can't imagine they ever felt the need for anything deeper...When it came to sharing their lives, they chose two beautiful and very feminine women..." "Who wants to fuck themselves? My dad said that to me recently. We're not all the same. Or maybe they're the children of a different generation. You're right though. Jake and I are both on the back of bad breakups with women. That's gotta be significant. We're taking an emotionally safer option, even if it won't seem so safe if the press gets wind. In the long run, both of us will need the challenge of a real relationship with a woman. I think we agree on that one. That's how I know I'm straight. Else a man would do me better, huh?"

Nate nodded. "Man, I appreciate you sharing this with me, I really do. It's fascinating. I wish you both well. No one will hear about this from us, you know that, don't you?"

Liam patted him on the back. "You think I would have said anything if I hadn't already known that? You're a mate. Almost one of the family. We're cool..."

On the last day before they left, Liam put together a scratch rock band and gave a free concert. In one sense he thought it was absurd that he might think he could appease people still recovering from their descent into hell with the dubious gift of a musical performance, but in another, he strongly felt that there was a higher purpose in it. These people were human beings, not just a series of statistics on a UN report. Everyone needs their soul touched from time to time; gratuitous fun and celebration ought not be regarded as the preserve of the affluent nations only. His instinct was correct. Curious crowds came to listen. The exuberance and joy to have an occasion to party for once was electric. Liam had even found some local boys with aspirations to be rock singers to help as back up musicians and singers. He promised them support in the future, and made a note to ship out good equipment later so they could get a decent product together. A few rock songs could not in anyway compensate for what these people had endured living without even the basics his world regarded as prerequisite, yet again, as with the aboriginal kids back home, Liam understood that humanity was not just about food, shelter and clothing. All souls needed sustenance too; all spirits needed imagination. It fired him up even more to put into action the dream he had cherished for so long. Even his own songs, written with personal angst in mind, took on a whole new depth, a gravitas he was not entirely sure they deserved, sung to this audience. When he sang 'Last Chance' and 'Rewind,' they became anthems for a new life. Even the light-hearted 'New Shoes' was significant in the context, and caused a further stir when aid workers handed out dozens of pairs of Nike running shoes that Liam and Jake had jointly funded.

By the time their trip was over, both the young men felt that they had undergone an epiphany; their lives would never again been quite the same. India had left an indelible mark at a pivotal point in both their lives.

On the day they flew out back to the States, both heading for months of work and overloaded schedules, more life-changing news reached Liam. He called Zoe - and learned her news. Sitting in the airport lounge mulling in disbelief at the turn of events, he was devastated that his sister seemed again to have lost her chance of happiness.

Jake observed his mood, came over and sat by him, offering coffee. 

"She's pregnant." 

"Who? Christ, not Abigail?" Jake exclaimed, his face showing the potential nightmare that would pose for them both. 

Liam had to smile. "No, you nong! Zoe."

"Zoe? The Russian guy? Jesus, he's a fast worker..." Jake observed sardonically. 

Liam shook his head. "No, that's the problem. Not the Russian guy. She's left him. Didn't want to burden him with her problems..." 

Jake shook his head and sighed. That woman's life was blighted by disaster and bum choices. Bad karma. Fate. "Where is she?" 

"Back home in Oz. With Mum and Dad. Best place for her. Back to bloody square one, though. Jesus, if he wasn't already dead, I'd fucking murder that bastard spook myself. Two kids and neither with a father..." But he didn't say much else, sinking instead into his own thoughts, his little girl so far away much on his mind. Even when dads were alive and kicking, it seemed kids grew up without them..

 

~~~~~~~~~~ 

 

There was a houseful the next day when Jamie and Bibi arrived with little Ruby. Brenda was about to leave but couldn't let her Jamie go, especially not with his beautiful little baby girl. Andreas was wound up like a top; Jamie encouraged his excitement, running round the garden with him playing soccer. It seemed like old times - with a new twist.

Zoe seemed calmer, obviously delighted to see her old friend, thrilled about his baby and typically emotional, as one would expect a pregnant woman to be. She cried shamelessly over Ruby and carried her about, giving her Mum and Dad a much needed rest. Bibi was glowing but Jamie looked all-in, especially after his footie game on such a warm day. When the new mother left to feed her baby in a quieter room, he flopped beside Zoe on a chair round the pool while Andreas played in the water with his wings on. Brenda was preparing lunch.

"That kid should be swimming by now. Costello would freak at those water wings. He'd throw him in the deep end and tell him to swim out. And Andreas would..." Jamie observed.

"He can swim! He's actually a good swimmer, but on a day like this with people coming and going and Andy so excited, I need to know he's safe. So I made him wear the wings...He's a good boy. He knows I worry so he doesn't make a fuss, even though I know he feels babyish with them on..."

Jamie looked over at the little boy in the pool. "You need to stop worrying. He'll be fine. I'd jump in if he got into difficulty. What's up, love? When you going to tell me what really happened in London?"

Zoe sighed. "Don't be such a snoop. I'll tell you when I'm ready. I worry because I'm a Mum. Just like you will when your little princess starts running about..."

"This is more than that. I can tell," he added smartly. 

"Yeah, well, sometimes you can be too clever for your own good. Lots of things happened. Some good, some bad. Now is not the time to go over it all. One day soon in the office, I'll tell you everything but there is one thing I will tell you now. I'm pregnant, Jamie. About three months. So, I'll be needing some leave in a while..."

"You're what?" Jamie sat up sharply. "Knocked up? Who the fuck knocked you up? And where is the bastard now?" His husky voice betrayed itself in the belligerence of his response. Zoe leaned over and placed a hand on his arm. "Jamie, not so loud! Andreas doesn't know...and watch your language in front of him...!" She lowered her voice. "I met this guy. It's over now, okay? I found out I was pregnant after he left me..."

"Then go get him back! Jesus Christ, you can't do it all again on your own..." 

"I can't get him back. It isn't going to happen. You don't marry a man just because you're pregnant..." 

"You don't have his baby either unless you care about him..." Jamie argued with some reason. 

"If this was just a one night stand, you'd have a termination. You know you would..." 

"Actually, I am not entirely sure I would, Jamie, but that's not the point. Okay, he was important to me. But it's over, and that's that..." 

"He should pay maintenance. See the kid from time to time. Christ, you can't simply let him get away scot-free!" 

"I don't need any money. I can't see him from time to time. Please, Jamie, let it be..." 

"At least let me break his fucking legs?" he retorted, flexing his neck in typical Jamie-East End gangster-style. "Fuckin' hell, Zo! He can't just shoot his fucking load into a girl like you and run...!"

She laughed despite his words. "He didn't. It's more complicated that that..." 

"You mean he's married?" 

"NO! I do not sleep with married men..." 

Jamie gave her a disbelieving look. He knew full well that she had made a habit of picking up married men in the past because it was easier, less messy, than a guy who just might pursue her for a relationship. Married men were always grateful not to have to follow up.

"Then what the fuck is his excuse for getting a woman like you and then buggering off just when the going gets tough?" This was not where Zoe wanted to go today. She shrugged off his question. "It's over. Leave it, Jamie. Please."

He shook his head at her obstinacy but knew better than to try to talk her round in this mood. Instead he took her hand in his and looked into her eyes. "I hate this. There's no fucking sense in life. When I met you all those years ago in that hotel room in London for my interview with Liam and Costello, there you were, the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. You had everything. I had nothing. You had a man who adored you, the most formidable guy I have ever known. A man who wouldn't have let anyone or anything touch you, who had shit-loads of money...I felt like some wannabe peering in at the window of a life I didn't dream might be mine. Look at life a couple of years on? Here I am, happily settled with a woman I love and a beautiful daughter - and there you are, with every kind of shit that life can shovel pouring down on your head. Some god of mercy, eh? I never deserved a fuck, and yet I got it all. You deserved everything and you got shat on..."

Zoe smiled softly, rubbing his shoulder, unconsciously enjoying the feel of solid vital male muscle. "You have such a way with words, James, did I ever mention that?" He grudgingly laughed at his own direct language. "Jamie, there's another way of looking at this. When I see you so happy and settled in a life we never imagined you would ever find, then it doesn't make me wonder. It just gives me hope. If you can work it all out, then so can I. One day, I will find it. I just have to live my life, raise my babies, love my friends and family, be happy - and stop trying to expect a man to come in and be the answer to everything. They rarely are. But, if by some minor miracle, that blessed gentleman should ever find his way to my door, then I'll be grateful. The funny thing is, good things always come when you least expect them. So maybe if I stop trying, it will all come right in the end?"

Bibi came back in shortly afterwards, toting the baby. Brenda began laying the table for lunch. Zoe shared her news. Bibi was suitably concerned, if finding it hard not to betray her relief. Zoe was off the market and, no doubt, hankering after some man other than her own Jamie. A residual of tension would always hover between the two women, no matter how friendly they appeared to be. Jamie would always be between them.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~ 

 

The days passed uneventfully. Andreas went back to his former school, slipping seamlessly back with his old friends. That alone indicated to Zoe how much her son had needed stability and the familiar, particularly after the traumas of the past months.

Liam began his world tour over in the States. It would be months before he was heading down under again; they kept contact by calls and mails. He had been circumspect about his sister's pregnancy. It was none of his business, other than to offer her his support. She never seemed to catch a break. Terry and Annie settled back to their usual routine. Their daughter's news that had thrown them so much initially, soon became a fact of normal existence. Annie went to doctors' appointments with her daughter, Terry took Andreas out about as a surrogate father when he was free. In fact, life returned to much as it had been in the years after Nick's death. Zoe seemed composed, no doubt pregnancy hormones assisting; nor did she appear unduly unhappy. Brenda was a daily presence in the big house, resuming her alternative grandmother role.

But appearances can be deceptive. It took a great deal of courage for Zoe to conduct her life as she did. Sergei was constantly on her mind, loneliness her only friend. In the quiet of the night, alone in the solitude of the large empty home, she kept his memory alive as compensation for what she had given up. Sometimes in bed, she imagined him lying next to her fast asleep as she curled up longing for rest to come. There had been a time when she had once conjured up an imaginary Nick to hold her; now the man in whose arms she lay was Sergei.

At other times she would sit on her windswept deck, wrapped up warmly against the evening chill and close her eyes, letting herself drift back to the happier moments, all too few, that she had spent with Sergei. It would never be enough, but it was something to cling onto. He had loved her. She might have had a life with him if the cards had been dealt differently. No one would ever know what she felt inside. Sergei was her secret inner world, the memory that kept her sane.

Time is a great healer, or so they say. Everything passes. She knew that to be true. One day, just as with Nick, her heart would let Sergei go. But what surprised her most was how little that seemed to be happening those first months. Indeed, she observed the very opposite. All things became clear to her now, the mists of self-delusion that had cloaked her since she had met him evaporating to shine a bright light on her true soul. Now she could see what had been there all along. She had fallen in love with Sergei Litvinov almost from the first moment she had seen him and everything else since then had been a smokescreen, masking her real emotions. If only. If only she had had the courage, back after Tecala, if only then she had pursued him, she felt sure he would have come round. Her guilt had obscured her true feelings, making her shun him, part of the unconscious atonement she had demanded of herself. But love cannot be denied.

Tom was already a shadowy figure now in her memory, less clear to her every day than Sergei. He had been a much-needed friend, a dashing companion, a young man from her own world whom she had found exciting and challenging to be with. He had seemed the perfect answer to what she needed, but when is love ever rational? Just because he was exactly right for her, did not make him Mr. Right. Had she loved him? In a fashion, depending what one defined love was - and that was debatable, a moveable feast of an emotion. She had needed Tom. She had felt safe with Tom. She had been full of gratitude to find someone in whom she was in tune. Yet all the same she now began to wonder if she hadn't simply created a love affair with a suitable candidate simply because she had wanted so much to be loved. Was it possible that she had built up an artificial structure inside her head, made a hero and saviour of Tom, just because he had been there at a time when she had been lost - and because he was made up of all the prerequisite parts? The citadel she had constructed, however, had come tumbling down when he had failed her, leaving her empty and betrayed. That would not have happened if it had been true love. Sergei had not been able to stop loving her, despite what she had done. She herself had accepted Nick's grave faults and his regular misbehaviour. Lovers can forgive. She wasn't sure she had fully excused Tom, even now. Yet, there was atonement in the mix, too. Tom had died for her. She owed him her son's life. In return she gave him a child. It seemed a fair trade.

Her feelings for her baby, however, were not in the least ambivalent. She was as much in love with this precious gift as when she had carried Andreas. The child made her happy whenever she felt melancholy creeping over her. As she felt the first kicks of life quickening in her womb, she could not help but observe how complex love was. Even Sergei could not quite measure up to this little life she had inside her.

It was a boy; she found that out early. She had wished initially for a girl, but even that notion passed quickly once she saw the little naked form on the screen. He was perfect. Tom would have been so proud. It was right and fitting that there should be a son; she intended to call her little boy Quinn to carry on his name. He was the last of his line. She would not forget that.

At the salon one day, idly flicking through a society and gossip magazine, barely taking it in, she came upon Sergei's image, unmistakable. He was on his yacht in the south of France with a famous Brazilian supermodel, his constant companion of late, according to the columnist. Sergei looked tan and golden, dressed casually in a navy blue T-shirt, beige cut offs, deck shoes, sunglasses shading his blue eyes. The woman by his side was astonishingly lovely. Pain cut deep at the sight of the image, pain that she almost welcomed. This was what she had left him for. This was the atonement she had chosen to pay. There was something almost liberating in the brutal finality of it all. Maybe now Sergei at least was free. Zoe glanced down at her swelling belly and sighed. If only.

At least, please God, let him be happy, fall in love, marry, have children of his own. She longed to see him settled and at peace, no longer alone. Of all people, she knew how much he had wanted a family life within the sterile bubble of luxury and privilege he owned. Her own distress, the unwanted images of Sergei and his girlfriend making love, two deities of male and female perfection, seemed secondary somehow. He deserved happiness. He had done nothing wrong. Let him find it at last.

She tried to close the magazine but the picture drew her. Before leaving, she surreptitiously tore out the page and folded the cutting up in her pocket to be taken out later in her bedroom, the only image she had of him, other than her memories. That night she took it to bed, crying softly as she stared at the two of them strolling down the harbour at Cannes, hand in hand, ignoring the intrusion of the paparazzi who must have stalked their every move to take close up shots like this. She slept with the picture beneath her pillow, and dreamed she was strolling along on a sunny day holding the hand of a man whose face he couldn't quite see...

 

~~~~~~~~~~~ 

 

"Hi, Zoe? I know this is a bit presumptuous of me but..." 

"Fliss?" Zoe asked, recognising the voice on her phone immediately. 

"Yeah, me. I'm sure I'm the last person in the world you want to speak to, but I'm in Sydney and..." 

"Sydney? What are you doing here?" Zoe exclaimed. 

"Don't you read the gossip columns? I'm touring the region, starting in ten days. Thought I'd get over early to settle Nina and open up the house as a base. Liam said it was cool if we used it as he's in the States..." "Oh man, I'm so out of touch, these days! I had no idea! So you're at the house? I'll come on over..."

"I'm at a hotel. The house is being cleaned and stocked. The joys of having a team of people working for you, eh?" 

"Hotel? Don't you dare. Pack a bag and get over here at once, you, Kay and Nina. Leave the rest of the pack. You have to stay with us until your place is ready...oh, say you will, Fliss!"

Zoe's enthusiasm left Fliss somewhat surprised. Since her breakup with Liam, there had been no contact with his sister, yet now she seemed to be eager to revive their friendship.

"You sure?" 

"Of course, I'm sure! Fliss, I don't have it in me to judge other people any more. Made too many cock-ups of my own recently. Us single mums need to stick together. Liam's doing okay, now. It's all history. Let's put that aside. We were so close all those years and I need my girlfriends these days. So do you, I suppose. Please, come and stay?"

It was decided. Later that day Fliss and a convoy of her people arrived but Fliss soon chased most of them away, unwilling to inflict her entourage on anyone else. Zoe had her own security. It was more than sufficient. Andreas was thrilled to have Nina around, Brenda and Kay chummed up straight off, and Zoe planned a dinner party later on in the week for the family at large. But on that first night, once the little ones were asleep, the two young women sat up late talking, much as they had done many times before over the years. It felt good to recall how close they still were. Their relationship was nothing to do with Liam.

"So, you and Damon are history?" 

Fliss nodded. "Funnily enough, I felt a sense of relief when he left. Somehow being alone is so much easier than trying to have a relationship. I think I'm off men," Fliss observed.

Zoe laughed. "Me too, although my reasons are more by circumstance than choice. Did Liam mention I was pregnant?" 

Fliss looked aghast. Liam had been discreet. "Pregnant? By whom?" 

"You're out of touch. It's a long story but I had this thing with a guy in London over Christmas. He's gone now. As luck would have it, however, he left a little something of himself behind..." Zoe was reluctant to explain the full facts. One dead lover was tragic; two seemed almost to be reaching tragi-comic proportions. What was it Oscar Wilde had said about losing two parents smacking of carelessness?

"Does he know?" Fliss asked. Zoe shook her head. 

"You ought to tell him. Kids need a dad..." 

"In his case, he would be an invisible one, and I think that's even worse. No, this is my problem and my child. Oddly enough I'm delighted about the baby. In a way, it's time. Andreas needs a brother. Best thing to have happened all year, but..."

"...You miss him?" 

Zoe shrugged. She had a habit of merging Tom and Sergei into one story; the lover who had abandoned her becoming the one she had walked out on.

"Every moment. How's that for irony?" 

"Men, huh?" 

"Yep, men. Can't live with them, can't live without them and can't even blow a bullet hole between their eyes without getting sent down..." 

"Eyes? I'd aim much lower down," Fliss giggled. Zoe joined in the laughter, getting up to go to the kitchen. Fliss followed her. 

"D'ya fancy getting pissed on a few pints of ice cream, seeing as I can't drink? Oh, and Andreas doesn't know yet, so don't mention it when Mr. Big Ears is around. He'll drive me nuts asking questions so I want to leave it until I'm so fat he can't avoid noticing. Then he won't have so long to wait..."

"You think he'll be jealous?" 

"Probably, but he'll also be over the moon. Especially because it's a brother. He's going to be so excited about that. He loves babies. He's lonely, Fliss. Little Lord Fauntleroy in this big house with no one but me for company. It'll be good for him. Almost like a normal family..."

Fliss gave her a wry look. "Just without the father, you mean? It looks like none of them will grow up in a regular nuclear family. What's going to happen to them all?"

"Nina's got a dad. And a bloody good one, too. Kids'll survive if we love them and all pull together. A loving home, even an unconventional one, is better than unhappy parents any day in my book. Fliss, what can we do about it now, anyway? Make the best of it, is all. But I do worry about Andreas, all the same. He responds to male company so well. He needs it and so do girls. It's how we learn about men, isn't it?

They each set to work on a pint of ice cream, continuing to discuss their lot. This was what both needed; a 'safe' confidante of similar age who could share their inner thoughts. Everyone needs a girlfriend. Men you might just be able to live without, but not your girl. .

 

~~~~~~~~~~~ 

 

She noticed the bleep of her cell phone as she was gathering up her tennis bag after her lesson. Pulling out the small device, she saw the call had originated from Zoe's home number and redialled, nodding her thanks to her tennis coach as he hurried of to his next lesson.

"Annie?" Her call was answered by Brenda. 

"Brenda? What's up?" 

"Not sure, love. It's just that I found something when I was making Zoe's bed this morning. She was in a rush and had left the place her usual mess so I went up to sort things out a bit for her..."

"Brenda, you know you don't have to pick up after her anymore..." Annie interrupted. 

Brenda just laughed off her objection. "So, about this thing I found. It might be nothing, but it just seemed odd for a woman of her age to have a picture under her pillow...I thought maybe you ought to know..." "A picture? A picture of what?' Annie asked as she walked back through the changing rooms to take her shower.

"A picture of who, more like," Brenda retorted. "It's from one of those glossy mags kids buy. Our Kylie gets it for the celebrity gossip...You know, Hello, or OK? Something like that, with loads of pictures and stories about rich people."

Annie shrugged. She knew the sort of publication, mostly because her son regularly featured in them. "I'm not sure I quite understand, Brenda..." 

"Well, this picture had been torn out of one of those magazines and folded up under her pillow. Like it was special. Important. It seems a very odd thing for Zoe to do..."

"Maybe it was Andreas? Kids do odd things like that when they're playing imaginary games...He could have been playing postie or something..." 

"Where would Andreas get hold of Hello magazine? Zoe never buys crap like that. It doesn't seem much like the kind of picture to interest a little boy..."

"Why? What's the picture of?" Annie asked, curious now to find out why this had bothered Brenda so much. She trusted the woman's judgment, however. If Brenda was concerned then Annie was listening.

"It's got to be this picture because the other side is part of an advert but you can't even see the product...It's a photie of some guy walking along a harbourside. Somewhere hot, let me see if I can find my reading glasses..." There was a pause while Brenda must have been rooting through her voluminous handbag before Annie heard her exclaim 'Got ya!' and then return to the call. "Okey dokey...It says it was in France. Can-nes?" She pronounced the two syllables as if they were an alien name to her. They probably were. "This bloke, walking down by his yacht, bloody 'ell, he must be bleedin' loaded, with some model-type bimbo on his arm, usual stuff. He's pretty good looking if you like smarmy blonds with designer tans and Raybans. Not my type. I like my men a bit rougher and hairier..."

"Quite, Brenda, the photie?" 

"Ah yeah, the photie? He's wearing cut-off shorts, all pressed, not a bloody crease in them, the gay bastard. I mean, what real man has creases in his shorts? A silk T-shirt and those loafers that pooftas wear..." Annie smiled to herself. Brenda was rather given to sexual stereotyping. "His name, Bren. Who is he?"

"Er...let me see. Something foreign...Russian...Ser-gee something or other..." 

Annie's breath caught in her throat. "Sergei Litvinov? The picture is of Sergei Litvinov?" 

"Yeah, that's him. You know him? Says here he's a billionaire Russian business man...one of Europe's richest men...Jesus, you know how much he's worth...?"

"I know, Brenda. He's a very wealthy man indeed. Zoe had this magazine cutting tucked beneath her pillow?" "Bloody peculiar, eh? Why would she do something like that? Unless...bloody hell, he's not the bugger who knocked her up, is he? Poncy little Commie bastard like him?"

"No. He's not the father of the baby, if that's what you're referring to, Brenda." 

"Then why's she got his picture under her pillow?" Brenda reasoned with undeniable logic. 

Annie paused before replying. "Because whoever got her pregnant, the man she loves is Sergei Litvinov. It's a very long and rather pathetic story which I will explain when I next see you. Suffice it to say for now, Zoe was with him when she discovered she was pregnant - and left him immediately. But she's in love with Sergei. That was never in any doubt. And he was in love with her, too. It's a total nightmare, Brenda. She must be missing him so much. Imagine, all she has left of him is a torn out newspaper cutting? I can't bear what she must be going through..." Annie sank down on one of the changing room benches, deflated by this revelation. There was something so hopelessly pitiful in it, so unlike her spirited daughter in this sad little keeping of a memento of how Sergei had managed to go on with his life, while she was most clearly stuck in the past along with her memories.

"He didn't waste much time replacing her though, did he? Jesus, it must hurt to see him with another woman. What can we do for her? I can let her know I've been spying on her. She'd be annoyed with me for peeking at her private things..." Brenda admitted. "I just knew that this must point to her being in a bad way. Depressed even. It's not good for a girl at a time like this..."

"I know. You did the right thing telling me. Put it back where you found it and say nothing. Leave it with me..." "What are you going to do?" "I don't know. Give it some thought. Maybe talk to Terry. Whatever I do though, Brenda, I am not sitting down here any longer doing bugger-all while they both ruin her life. You can count on that for starters...I have to go. Thanks for this. I'll be in touch..."

Annie closed her phone, took a shower and gave the matter some deep thought. She had meant what she said to Brenda. This was going to require some assertive action, something she probably should have done weeks ago, if only she hadn't decided instead to abide by her daughter's request for them to keep out of her life. But Zoe had been wrong. Sergei at least had the right to know the truth. What happened then was his decision. It might even be too late by now. Maybe he had met another girl. But whatever, she was determined to make one last bid to save this doomed relationship. What did any of them have to lose? Back at home, Annie searched in her jewellery box for the card she had placed there for some obscure reason, never quite able to throw it away. A long time ago, Sergei Litvinov has given her this private number, telling her to call if she ever needed him. She needed him now. Let's see if he really meant what he had said. Taking a deep breath, aware that she had no idea where Sergei was and that he might well be in a time zone where it was dead of night, she made the call, her heart fluttering, trying to compose some coherent sentences in her head that wouldn't sound pathetic to this man who must surely be finished with the Thorne family by now.

The distant cell phone began to bleep. She almost stopped breathing as she counted the rings, wondering how long she should continue before giving up. Just as she was about to hang up, a voice answered brusquely.

"Who is this?" Sergei Litvinov had been in the bathroom when his cell phone went off. Claudia Bellarmino paused in her own toilette applying her mascara, and called out. "Querido...your cell..." He had been shaving after a shower. Wrapping a towel round his waist and grabbing a face cloth to rub away the remainder of the soap, he came through, picking up the device, frowning when the number was not recognisable to him. He almost decided to cancel the call. Some instinct stopped him.

"Who is this?" Annie was so surprised to hear the voice of the very man she had called, that at first she could not find her tongue. It was only when he repeated the question that she managed to utter a halting answer.

"Er..Anna..I mean, Anna...Thorne...Zoe's mother? We met in London last year? At the exhibition...of icons..." Her voice trailed away. He had said nothing.

"I know who you are, Mrs. Thorne. Why are you calling me?" 

"Sergei...Mr. Litvinov...I hope I didn't wake you, or disturb an important meeting...I would hate to inconvenience you in any way as I know how valuable your time must be..."

"Could you please get to the point. If you have a point, that is..." he added coolly. 

She swallowed hard, metaphorically banging her head against the wall. She was sounding like a jibbering idiot. This was already a total mess. Breathing deeply to control herself, she tried again.

"I'm sorry. I'm calling with some information that I believe you need to know. It concerns my daughter and her real reason for leaving London so suddenly..."

Sergei gave an impatient sigh. "I have no wish to know anything more about the matter. Your daughter made her feelings quite clear when she decided to leave. She asked me not to contact her again. I have no intention of doing so. Please tell me what information might add to this sorry business? If this is some pathetic attempt on her part to win me round using you, because she has decided she made a mistake, then you are wasting your damn time..." He spared her nothing. Why should he? They had not spared him a single thought.

"My daughter has no idea I am calling you. If she knew, she would be very angry with me. There's no need to take out your understandable anger on me. I have never done anything against you. In fact as I recall, during our first meeting, it was you who was planning injury to me. You changed your mind then. I forgave you for your duplicity on that occasion. Perhaps you could drop the belligerence with me in return?"

Sergei grunted; Annie was unsure whether it was embarrassment or agreement. Nevertheless, she was beginning to find her stride in this conversation. He was not going to hang up on her, she felt sure of it.

"Was that a yes, Mr. Litvinov? Or should I just put the phone down?" Make him beg for it, Annie thought to herself. That's what Terry would do in such a situation. Throw a crumb and then pull it away. The old carrot on a string. That's how you shifted play back into your own court. Much like in tennis. She smiled to herself as she sensed him taking the bait.

"Go on. Obviously you believe in the importance of what you have to say...don't waste my time...spit it out..." 

Sergei's reply was grudging but she could sense his curiosity. Otherwise he would have hung up on her long ago. 

"Zoe's pregnant. Is that succinct enough for you?" She decided simply to go for the body shot, leave him reeling. If he didn't have enough time to think, so much the better.

"What? Pregnant?" His exclamation said it all. He had no idea nor had he ever suspected such a thing. But he recovered quicker than she had expected. "Are you implying I had something to do with that? I hope you don't imagine you can hold me responsible..."

"Sergei, use your damn head! Stop thinking with your wounded pride. I know she hurt you, running out as she did. Her behaviour must have appeared inexplicable to you in the light of what had been happening the week before. She discovered she was pregnant in the days after she went out to the Gala night with you. Of course it isn't yours! That's the whole point of what she did. She was heartbroken. Devastated. She ran for the safety of home..." "Who is the father of this child? The man who died? The man she had been with over New Year? The intelligence officer?" Sergei was thinking now instead of reacting defensively.

Annie knew she had better be ready for his real response when he gathered his thoughts. "Yes. Tom Quinn was the father." 

There was a long silence on the line during which Annie could hear muffled speech. Someone was in the room with him. It sounded like a woman's voice. Her heart took a nosedive. The Brazilian supermodel? Claudia something or other? Had they become a real couple during the past months? Was this really too little, too late?

"Are you still there?" Sergei's voice again. 

"Yes." 

"I needed privacy. We can talk freely now. Anna, I'm not sure how this news changes anything. I am sure finding out she was carrying a child was a shock to her but why did she lie to me? Is it impossible for your daughter to be honest? I'm not sure I can trust a woman who seems incapable of distinguishing fact from fiction in her dealings with men..."

He had a fair point. This was the crux of the entire matter. It wasn't about a baby, it was about trust. "I know how it must have seemed to you, Sergei. But try and understand it from her perspective. She was just finding her way with you and then learned this news. How could she tell you? "

"I had a right to know! Do you think I would have abandoned her? When you love someone, you accept what they have done. You accept their life as it is. I would have accepted the child.. I would have done what was right by them both..."

"I think that is exactly why she left, Sergei. She knew you would see it as your duty to stand by her. She did not want to ask that of you. She did not believe she had the right to inflict her problems on you. So she went away, hoping that you would learn to hate her and in doing so get over her. I'm not sure any of us entirely agree with her reasoning, but know this. She made this very difficult decision for you. To save you. Not for herself. I doubt a moment has passed by for her since when she has not longed to be with you..."

He ignored her impassioned defence. "It was not her decision to make! No one tells me what I should do, or speaks for me! How dare she imagine that she could make a momentous decision affecting so many lives without even considering me!"

"That smacks of arrogance, Sergei. She meant well..." Annie countered unconvincingly. 

"Whose arrogance? Mine or hers, for God's sake? Why is she the only one who can decide? It was both our faults that we wasted our chance in Tecala. I cannot blame her for then meeting another man. We all must try to move on in our lives. But when we found each other again, I had won the right to be consulted. It makes no matter if she already knew what my answer would be. It would still have been my answer. Of course, I don't want to start our life together standing by the sidelines when she bears another man's child. What man would be comfortable with that? But if I love her, I must accept that just as I must accept any other problem...For better or worse...isn't that what you say in your ceremonies...?"

It was he who made the reference to marriage, a revealing tell of what he had expected would have happened had they still been together. 

A bitter gall rose in the pit of Annie's stomach. They had been so close. He would have wasted no time in proposing and marrying her. Instead of waiting for the arrival of a baby, the family might all have been gearing up for a glittering dream wedding had the dice rolled a different way.

"I'm sorry, Sergei. So very sorry...she was only thinking of you..." 

"Thinking of me?" he rasped. 

It occurred to Annie then that a man like Sergei Litvinov would most probably never have admitted frailty to anyone in years. It spoke volumes of how emotionally affected he now was to be revealing himself so openly to another person he hardly knew.

"I just thought you ought to know the truth, Sergei. I don't know what she told you, but it wasn't the real reason. That was why I called you today. I can feel assured that you know the whole story. What you do next is your own business..."

"At least you seem to appreciate that fact. Thank you for informing me. I'm sure it wasn't an easy decision." 

It seemed he would simply finish the conversation without giving her any indication of his intentions. Why should he inform her? It was nothing to do with her how he chose to use this new development. But just as she expected to hear the click of the call being cut, he spoke again - and this time his voice seemed different, more mellow, gentler.

"Is she well? How is the pregnancy...proceeding? I know little about such things but I'm sure it cannot be easy for her. In the circumstances. The little boy, Andreas...how is he?"

Sergei seemed awkward referring to personal issues but his very concern touched her. Even now his thoughts were all for Zoe and her son. Couldn't he see that instinctively he was taking the role of their protector, despite everything?

"She is well. It's been a text book pregnancy so far, thank God. She's blooming and the baby is thriving. It's a little boy. They can tell these things early these days. Andreas doesn't know yet. Nine months is a long time for a little boy to wait for his brother. When she begins to show more, then she plans to tell him. Nearer the time..."

"I can't imagine her round and full of a baby," Sergei said, with an awe in his voice that Annie had observed strong masculine men always seem to betray in the face of the mysteries of the feminine body. "She is so slender..."

"She still is. Slim as a reed. You can hardly tell yet she's five months gone already. Just a little bump. I think she looks more beautiful than ever. But then, I would say that. She is my daughter. I love her..."

"Then we share more than a love for beautiful icons, Anna. So very much more," he added sadly. "Thank you for sharing this with me. I wish her all good things. I hope all goes well and she delivers a healthy son. She's lucky to have her family round her. I have an appointment now, Anna. I'm afraid I must hang up. Thank you again. You did the right thing. It is better to know the truth..."

A click heralded the closing of the call. There was nothing but dead air between them now. Well, she had told him. Now it was up to him. 

"...Annie? You in there? I'm starving. What's for lunch?" 

Terry's voice shook her back to reality. Dropping her phone onto the bed and dashing to her feet, she ran out to meet him, as if she had something to hide. She did have something to hide. No doubt he would have gone crazy with her had he known what she'd been up to.

"I'm coming, I'm coming...I just got back from tennis. Are you incapable of making a sandwich for yourself? Or stopping and buying one in a sarnie shop? You're so pathetic!"

She hid her confusion in chiding him; Terry shrugged and paid no attention. She would get his lunch like she always did. 

Sergei returned to the bedroom where Claudia was waiting, now fully dressed and ready for their day out. She looked stunning. He did not even notice her, ripping off his towel and beginning to dress. Petulantly she flopped across the room to attract his attention, running a hand around his waist, dropping it to his genitals sensuously. He knocked her fingers away brusquely, pulling away from her to sit on the edge of the bed and pull on his shorts.

"Something has come up. I have to fly out," he announced tersely. 

"What? You promised to show me the sights! To go shopping! I've never been to Hong Kong before...!" 

"Stay as long as you like. The suite's paid for. Charge anything you wish..." He stood up, fastening his pants and pulling on a cashmere sweater. 

"Where are you going? You can't just leave me here alone! Let me pack. I'll come with you. I don't mind if you have a business meeting..." 

Sergei raised his eyes to her face. Claudia was betraying her desperation. She was annoyed at his manner but more than willing to swallow her pride and play nice as long as she was allowed along for the ride. Any cost rather than to upset him. Her billion-dollar meal ticket was just about to slip out the back door. This woman would not let that happen if she could find a way around him. Sergei was so tired of the whole damn charade. Another beautiful woman who would sell her soul to be his wife. Zoe's sacrifice seemed to stare out at him in even starker contrast by comparison.

"If I wished you to accompany me, I would already have asked. Stay here or go back to Paris. Your choice." He put on his jacket, gathering his personal effects together, already on the phone to his PA to arrange for packing and immediate departure, and then to his pilot to inform him of his flight plans.

"Sydney? You're going to Australia? I love Sydney. Why can't I come?" Claudia whined. "What did I do? I thought everything was fine. Last night, you liked me well enough. This morning, too..."

He fixed her one of his steely stares. "You really want me to tell you the truth? I'm sure you would rather I did not. Let me put it simply. I think we just came to the end of the road, Claudia. Let's not waste our energies in beating this thing to death. It's over. And I'm leaving. Please, don't be here when I get back..." The crystal vase she smashed against the door as he strode through it shattered but missed him; the torrent of Portuguese rang out a litany of his faults, raining curses down upon his head. Sergei smiled to himself as he exited the suite. That was probably the first true emotion Miss Bellarmino had demonstrated since the day they had met. It was quite refreshing to know what she really felt about him. .

 

~~~~~~~~~~~ 

 

The following morning found Terry lying on his back under the sink in Zoe's kitchen, unplugging a blocked pipe. Annie, Zoe and Brenda were taking tea while he muttered darkly from the bowels of the cupboard. "I bloody well fail to see why you waited all week for me to show when there are any number of snake-hipped layabouts hovering around your grounds purporting to be hard-arsed security men who could have done this job for you days ago."

"I can't ask them to unblock the sink! They'd go nuts. You think their job descriptions cover stuff like that? They'd be on the blower whinging to Jamie if I asked them to do something menial..." Zoe laughed.

"Remember how you waited for me to knock you up a sandwich rather than do it yourself? You do that because you think it's woman's work. So this is just the male equivalent," Annie threw back at him. "Hurry up, your tea's going cold..."

"Ever thought of doing the sensible thing and just paying a bloody plumber?" 

"Pay? When I have a perfectly useful father who will do it for free? Have you seen what plumbers charge by the hour?" 

"Don't tell the boys at the gate. They might decide a change of career is in order," he retorted. "Jesus, do you know what crap is in this pipe? What the hell do you do in that sink?" he complained.

"It's Andreas. He throws all sorts in there," Brenda observed. 

"Yeah, blame it on the only bloke in the house, why don't you? Like he spends much time at that sink?" Terry commented, heaving himself from underneath, carrying out a bowl of unspeakably noxious contents and disappearing to pour it down the drain. Back inside he went to the hall bathroom to wash up while Brenda and Annie replaced the contents of the sink cupboard he had pulled out. Zoe brewed a fresh cup of tea. She looked out over the sea view. It was turning colder. May already. Late autumn. The months were flying past. She felt the flutter of movement in her tummy, absently caressing the small round bulge. "We need to start thinking about Andreas' birthday. It's almost June. He's already making demands. He has his father's taste for excess in parties, I think..."

"Bloody hell," Terry observed as he sat down, taking a grateful swig of his mug of tea. "Five already? Where does it go to, eh?" 

The gate phone rang; Annie leaned over to answer it. "Yeah?" 

The young man on duty at the gate spoke up. "Bloke here to see Ms. Thorne. Name's...what's your name again, mate?" Annie heard the muffled sound of a voice merely enunciate one name. The voice was unmistakable.

"...Says his name's Litnobob or something like that. Where you from, mate? He says Russia. Bloody hell, mate, must be hot for you here even on a cold day like this... Should I send him up?" "Yes. Send him up, Gary. Nothing to worry about..."

Zoe looked up. "Who is it?" 

"Oh...it's just...actually.... Zoe, it's...." By then Terry and Brenda were also looking puzzled. "It's a visitor....oh, damn...it's Sergei Litvinov..." 

"WHAT?" Zoe screamed. "He can't see me like this! He cannot see me like this. Tell him he can't come in. I'm going upstairs. Send him away. I don't want to see him..."

"He's come a long way, Zoe. You can't refuse to see him!" Annie reasoned. 

"I bloody well can. Send him away, Daddy. You talk to him. I don't want to see him. Not like this..." she pleaded. 

Terry grimaced. "Annie? What's going on?" 

"Please, Daddy, he'll be here in a moment..." Zoe jumped up ready to run upstairs. Her father put out a hand to stop her. 

"Your mother's right. He came a long way to see you. He has a right to see you. I'm not here to fight your battles for you, love. Don't hide behind me. You owe him at least an explanation face to face...."

The bell sounded. Brenda made the decision for them, heading for the front door, leaving them all frozen in place. 

"G'day there...and you are?" 

"Litvinov. Sergei Litvinov..." 

"Oh right. Not from these parts then, eh? Come on in then, mate. They're in the kitchen. We just brewed up..." Brenda directed him to the kitchen, eyeing him up with rather more approval than she had anticipated. This Russian might be dressed to kill, but then Nickie had loved his designer clothes-and they didn't come any tougher than him. This man was no limp wrist either. He was powerfully made, muscular, with hands like a drover and a face that showed a fair old bit of life lived the hard way. Zoe knew horse flesh when she saw it, Brenda had to admit.

Sergei strode forward, stopping dead just over the threshold of the kitchen, so fast that Brenda almost ran into his back. She edged round and made a desultory attempt to announce the guest. "Mr...Litivov...was that it?" She made an involuntary curtsey-like bob. Sergei looked at her momentarily with surprise. Terry restrained the urge to laugh. They were like two creatures from alien planets.

"Sergei, me old mate! Now what brings you down under...?" Terry advanced, his right hand out, breaking the deadlock for the others. The two men shook hands. For a second or two Sergei seemed to relax but then his guard was up again. He glanced across at Zoe who was vainly trying to take shelter behind the table top and her mother.

"I came to see your daughter. We have unfinished business," he stated without any pretense at the niceties. 

"No, we haven't. You shouldn't have come, Sergei. I asked you not to. I've nothing more to say to you," Zoe answered forlornly, looking across at her mother for support.

Sergei observed her for long moments before answering. "Nothing more? Not even that you are pregnant? You would imagine that might have been news worth sharing?" he replied with sarcasm.

"How did you know?" Zoe gasped but even as she spoke, the truth dawned on all three of them as they turned to look at Annie, whose guilty expression confirmed their suspicions. "You told him?" Zoe exclaimed.

"I...I thought he ought to know..." Annie mumbled. 

Terry glared over at her. 

"Right. Get your bag and coat...we're out of here," he announced. "You, too, Bren. I believe my daughter and Mr. Litvinov have something to discuss in private..."

"No! Daddy, don't go. You can't leave me with him, please...!" Zoe begged, holding onto his arm. Terry gently removed it. "Annie! Now..." "Terry, I think we should stay...We can't just leave her if she feels she needs us around..." Annie insisted.

He merely took her by the arm and steered her towards the door, where Sergei still stood, tension rolling off him in waves, even though he stood as still as if carved from stone.

"Daddy! Brenda! Mum! You can't go. He's angry with me. I'm scared of him..." Zoe added. 

Terry spun round. "Do not even try that on with me! You're in a mess of your own making, lady. This man is caught up in it. Have the guts to clean up your own mess for once. Scared of him? You should be scared of him. It's about time you found a man who scared you. I've been trying and failing miserably since the day you were born. Sergei...she's all yours, mate..."

"Terry!" Annie protested. Brenda just grinned. 

"Out. Both of you. Now!" 

He led them through the hall and out of the front door to his car, Annie arguing all the while. Once there, he let go of her arm. "You called him. Now let it happen. One thing's for sure, you and I - and even Brenda - have absolutely no right being privy to what those two say to each other. Okay, you interfered. Which was wrong of you. But, now he's here, then let's see what happens. Alone. In private. This is not our business..."

"He might hurt her..." Annie objected. 

"Hurt her? Sergei Litvinov would give his last bloody drop of blood for Zoe if she'd let him. Hurt her? He's the victim in all this, Annie. He'll not be easy on her, though. Nor will he touch a hair on her head. Not unless she wants him to, that is...Which is another reason we really don't want to be there at this moment...Now home...and leave the two of them in peace..." .

 

~~~~~~~~~~~ 

 

He did not say a word until the sounds of two cars driving off had faded away into the distance. All the while, they stared at each other. Zoe hardly dared breathe. She felt faint, clammy, nauseous. She hadn't lied. She was scared of Sergei's wrath. She knew she deserved it.

"Why? Why didn't you just tell me the truth? You said no more pretence. Was that another lie?" Finally he blurted it out, beginning to pace like a caged animal as his rage became almost too much to contain. "I wanted to be honest with you, but about this? I'm pregnant. The baby isn't yours. End of story. I wasn't about to ask you to wait or stand by me, or raise my children. That doesn't happen in the real world. Only in stupid romantic novels where everything comes good in the end...So I wrote that letter to make you angry in the hopes that you would find it easier to forget me..."

"Angry? To make me angry? Have you any idea what it did to me? Angry?" he bellowed, grabbing the back of a chair so hard, she had an image of the wood shattering in his hands. But oddly enough he relaxed his pressure as he stared at her, his fingers almost caressing the wood, as if it were her skin, her arms, her hair. His eyes were riveted to her. Zoe trembled, gripping the edge of the counter top behind her to prevent her leaning towards him, seeking for the comfort of his strength, denying herself the sanctuary she longed for.. "It was meant for your own good..." "MY OWN GOOD? Who are you to tell me what is for my own good? I am not a child who needs protecting from the evils of the world. You had no right to make choices for me..."

"I made them for myself. Not for you. I spared you my choices...." 

"That is insulting nonsense. You make a decision that affects our lives - and tell me that it has nothing to do with me? I loved you! Just like all those poor fools before me, who were also willing to lay down their lives for you. Just as I was..." he paused, found his momentum and launched into the speech he had been rehearsing on the flight over, hour after nerve-wracking hour. It came out too pat, too easily. He knew to anyone paying real attention it revealed his desperation. But it was all he had. At least she would know what he felt by the time he was done. How can you think that when a man feels like that about a woman, he would be put off by anything that happens to her? I wish you had never kidnapped Nikolai. I wish my mother was not dead. I wish I had not left you after Tecala. I wish you had not met another man...There are many things I regret. We all make many errors of judgement, choose many wrong paths, wish things could have been different. We all have problems in our life. Nothing is ever wholly perfect. But we learn to accept what we must, especially from those we love...My brother was a foolish young man who threw his life away. Some would say he was worthless...but he was still my brother. I would have given my life for him if I could. You were the woman I loved. How could you think I would be happier without you?"

Throughout his harrowing declamation, Zoe said nothing, hardly breathing. Lights danced before her eyes, his voice resounded in her head, echoing and strange. His words made their impact; she feared she would faint. All her energies were concentrated in trying to keep on her feet. If she crumpled to the floor, he would feel the need to care for her. She did not want to force that situation on him; she did not deserve his tenderness. How she had wounded him! How wrong she had been! The instant she had seen him she had known that once they had been committed on that path, nothing should have kept them apart. She had destroyed them both in her naive and misguided attempt to play fair.

"I don't know what to say. I can't think straight. It seemed clearer then. Like I had no choice. I swear I wanted you to be free...I didn't think of myself. Truly. I did it for love..."

Her use of the word 'love' stilled his pacing. He walked briskly across to her; she instinctively shrank back, biting her lip to stop herself from keeling over. But when he reached her, he did not touch her. Instead he stood before her and seemed bewildered. "Love?" he whispered, as if he barely understood the meaning of the word. "Tell me&ldots; truthfully... honestly... with no pretence... of your real feelings for me, this very minute. Have you thought of me since you walked out...?"

She shivered, a thin trickle of tears finding a path down her pale cheeks. "Every moment. Think of you? I have never stopped. I never will. I pray you're safe. I long to hear news of you, even cherishing images from magazines of you with other women, hoping it means you have found love and peace at last... Sergei, I never loved you more than when I lost you. That is the truth, the naked truth I planned to always keep from you. I have taken the love of the most perfect man I have ever known and dashed it into pieces over and over again...and I do not even know why..."

She couldn't continue, her voice choked with sobbing, gasping for breath. Only then did he seem to realise the emotional stress this interview had placed on her. He tenderly took her arms and lowered her to a chair, reaching for a tissue box, offering her something to dab her eyes, sitting back on his haunches as she sniffed and sobbed helplessly.

"So, this is what it takes? It seems with you I have to strip my very soul bare - and perhaps so do you." He sat down on a chair facing her, across the table, his hand reaching out to take hers. "There is something I must now tell you. Something maybe I should have admitted to you right at the start. You were not the only one guilty of dissemination. I withheld something from you that a woman has a right to know before she considers making a commitment to a man...My foolish pride prevented me from being honest. We were both in denial, hiding our true selves all along. No more." He paused, even now finding this hard to say to her. She had no idea what was coming but instinct told her it was something he found almost impossible to admit. Some dark secret? Some fragile part of his soul?

"Go on...whatever it is. I'll understand..." she urged softly. 

A ghost of a smile flickered across his face. "Ah so...now at last you realise what love is...!" 

She blushed, smiling back shyly. 

"Some years ago, I was with a woman. A beautiful woman. Spirited. Independent. Successful. The kind of woman who needs no man. Not like the others who all wanted a part of me. We were close. I suppose you could say that with her I was closer than I had ever been to love..."

"You didn't love her?" 

He shook his head. "I wasn't sure. Now I know that if you aren't sure, then you're not in love at all...But I know she loved me. She loved me so much that she was ready to give up her freedom and independence to come live in my sterile little bubble of a world... One day she told me that she was thirty and it was time for her to have children. She wanted me to father her child. She didn't expect me to marry her or even take responsibility but nevertheless she suspected that I was at a time in my life when I should consider an heir. If it was my wish, she would be prepared to marry me and give me a child. She would sign any pre-nup I liked. This was not about my fortune but more about pragmatism. She loved me; I needed her. She would be a good wife and hostess - and if I needed other women, she would understand..."

"Christ," Zoe muttered. "Not much of a prospect..." 

Sergei gave her a wry look. "This is your perfect man, Zoe. Not so perfect now, eh? I was a bastard to her and to many women. Some of them even loved me. I was a bastard and I still am. I take what I want and walk away when I am bored..."

"You never walked away from me..." Zoe murmured. 

"I never loved any woman but you, I know this now. Walking away from you would be like walking away from myself. Impossible to do. You are the blood that pounds through my veins. Irony, no? That I who have ruined so many relationships, should find myself shattered by a mere slip of a girl like you...?"

He smiled; she smiled back, reaching out a hand to caress his face. "Go on with the story..." 

He let her stroke him, then caught her hand in his, raising it to his lips, kissing the palm tenderly. "I considered her suggestion. It made sense. But I am a businessman first. I never commit to any contract without first seeing the goods. I told her to get pregnant. When she was confirmed, we would marry. Then there would be no compromises. I would make her my wife in all things..."

Zoe listened, frowning. "What happened?" 

He shrugged in his dismissive way. "Nothing. Three months - and nothing, yet we certainly tried hard enough. So, I told her the deal was off. She was infertile..."

"You didn't put it quite like that, did you?" Zoe gasped. 

"No. I was more blunt," Sergei admitted, closing his eyes as if the memory still pained him. "She was a very passionate woman in all things, as much in her anger as anything else. She flared up at me. Who could blame her? She said she had already seen a doctor. There was no reason she was not pregnant. Thus I must be the one at fault. She said: 'You are only half a man.' Then she walked out. I never saw her again. Her words stayed with me. I consulted my doctor. There were tests. It was confirmed. I am sterile. Some illness when I was a young adolescent...I do not know the name of it in English...We had almost no decent healthcare in those days..."

"Mumps..." Zoe whispered. 

Sergei looked up, confused. "Mumps. It's the illness you mean..." 

"Ah...! I can never give you a child, Zoe. My sperm count is very low..." 

"But not zero...? Then there's a chance, perhaps? They can do so much in vitro these days..." 

He hunched his shoulders. "Maybe. Who knows? Unpleasant for either of us. That is not how I would have wished it to be..." 

She massaged his hand lovingly, quoting back his words. "We accept what we must accept, especially from those we love..." 

"You would do this for me?" 

"Sergei, I would do anything for you, if you would only stay with me this time. And anything includes never having another child again, if needs be. Back then in Russia, you were unconcerned when we had unprotected sex. Was that why? Because you knew there would be no accidents...?"

"I should have been more honest. But I was ashamed to admit such a thing to a woman...I still am ashamed. What kind of man cannot father children on the woman he loves? She called me only half a man. She was right..."

His cold assessment of himself almost broke Zoe's heart. 

"Half a man? What do you mean? You are more man than any man I know! It doesn't matter, Sergei! I have two children, enough for any man and woman. You also have Nikolai. Three little boys and all of them will call you father... My baby has no other dad, Sergei. Sure, he had a biological father, but that man is dead. My little boy would rather have a living breathing father that he knows and loves than a dead man whom he searches to find in every man he meets. I know this. I have watched Andreas' search ever since he could understand what a father was. This baby won't give a damn what your sperm count is but he will be proud to walk beside you and know that he is your son... just as Nikolai is... just as Andreas will..."

A solitary tear ran down Sergei's face; he brushed it away roughly. "I have never cried since I was a child. I did not even weep at my brother's funeral Now look at me! I thought myself incapable of emotional collapse. Not so. Zoe... I would be honoured to be a father to both your sons, to raise them as my own, to give them my name if you so wish. If I cannot have children of my own, what better than that the two people I have loved most in all the world - Alexei and you - should be the ones to give me my sons...?"

She stood before him, allowing him his first chance to see her body. She was dressed girlishly; he had barely noticed it until now. Her hair was hanging loose, tucked carelessly behind her ears, her face devoid of cosmetics. On her long legs she was wearing a low-slung pair of tight jeans below a white loose cotton smock, edged in lace. His hand instinctively reached out to touch but stopped. He looked up into her eyes, those startling sea-turquoise eyes that almost seemed unreal. "May I?"

Instead of an answer, Zoe took his large rough hand in hers, pulled up the soft fabric of her shirt, and placed it on her small rounded belly. 

Her body was changing. He could see that now. He felt humbled to be so close to this miracle of life. Suddenly biological paternity seemed irrelevant.

"Our baby..." she whispered, placing her own hand over his. 

He bent forward, and placed a kiss over where the baby lay. "It is beyond belief. Life, just beneath my hand...the mystery of femininity..." he muttered. Zoe sank down to sit astride his knees. "No, what is beyond belief is that you are here with me. Serzhya, I'm afraid to look away in case this is just a dream, just like the many times I have tried to conjure you here in my head. I cannot believe that what I see is really you. Every morning I would wake up to another day that took me further and further away from you...and suddenly, you are here, beyond all expectations...How can this be true?" He caressed her face tenderly. "I came here today to make you tell me the truth - and then walk away, determined to make you pay. Well, that was what I told myself. In truth, all I really wanted was to find an excuse to be close to you again. No more denial. No more self-delusion. Zoe, we are in love. Without each other, there would never be peace..."

He tilted her head towards him, stroking her cheeks, running his thumb along the seam of her lips. She caught it, biting gently. He groaned softly before jerking her closer, finding her lips in a kiss, his hand gripping the back of her neck, handfuls of her thick hair rolled round his fist. They broke the kiss, barely separating, lips hovering, tasting, breath shared, tongues playing; shy and teasing at first, growing more passionate as instinct replaced conscious thought.

Zoe broke away, brushing back his hair. "How do we do this, Sergei? Our lives are so different, there's Andreas and Nikolai to consider, and then the baby... I live in Sydney while your work is all over the place and..."

He placed a finger on her lips. "How do we do this? We do it one day at a time, the only way there is. We take life one issue at a time. We make plans as we need to. What we do not do is worry it all now. Let's take our time, see what works for us. None of it really matters, Zoe. We'll find a way. Together... if we truly wish to..."

No more talking. He was right. Time enough later for negotiating the minefields of living. Today was for being. They had all day long until Andreas finished school. She rose from his knee, held out her hand and led him through the house, showing him around but all the while heading for the stairs. Passing a series of framed photographs of Nick hanging on the wall, Sergei stopped and looked at them with curiosity. "Nicholas Costello?"

Zoe nodded, tracing the familiar lines of Nick's face through the glass with her forefinger. "Yes. My Nickie. A long, long time ago, on a very happy day..."

"He will always have his place in our lives. Those who have gone before are always with us in our memories and in the children they left in our care...Without him, Zoe, you would never have found me. I owe him everything...I promise you this..."

She looked up at him. "He was my first love. I was his last. I loved him for so long, Sergei. I suppose a part of me always will. But you are the love of my life. My maturity. It took me so long to work it all out. Now I have. He's gone. I've finally let him go. Sergei, now my safety passes to you. Keep me safe. Don't ever let me be alone again..."

Sergei pulled her into his arms. "As long as I live...I swear...Whatever I am, I am yours. Whatever you are, you are mine. From this day forward..." . 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~ 

 

He contemplated another cup of coffee but decided against it. His foot tapping against the table leg already betraying his agitation; a full bladder would only make it worse. He glanced at his watch, then swore under his breath. It was barely three minutes since his last time check. Looking around for something to distract him further from the entrance of the apartment block across the street, he noticed a girl on the next table watching him. She was a bohemian-style pretty young thing, all ethnic beads and blonde dreadlocks, probably a student, definitely too young for him; the kind of girl he would normally have checked out by now, a hint of forbidden fruit adding to the passing erotic buzz. Today, he hadn't even noticed her, a sure sign of his preoccupation.

"Nice day. I couldn't resist a table outside," she observed, offering him a way in. 

"Yeah. Almost like spring..." he replied. 

"You reading that paper?" He indicated a tabloid edition rolled up on the chair next to her. The girl frowned, throwing it across, annoyed that his interest should settle not on her but on the newspaper.

"It's not mine. I don't read crap like that..." She threw it across in disdain, obviously losing interest now that she had deemed the promising unattached male was not going for the bait and moreover had proved himself nothing more than a low brow, proletarian prat.

He smiled back in patronising macho-male fashion. "Just want to check the football scores, love&ldots; then I'll get back to my copy of War and Peace..."

She shrugged, gathering her bag and making to leave. "Smart arse..." 

The passing interlude had calmed him down; he smirked as he settled back behind the paper, leafing through the pages, his head slightly turned, still checking out the entrance across the street.

Until he saw the series of photographs, accompanied by the short article. Then he sat up sharply, his eyes scanning the text at speed: 

 

 

He threw down the newspaper just as a car pulled up to the apartment block across the street. The target. Tom Quinn's head shot up, now alert and ready, senses primed. What did he have to lose? There is little in life as lethal as a man who no longer cares. Rising from the seat, he fastened up his jacket, brushing his hand over the welcome bulk of the gun nestled beneath his arm.

Looking right and left briskly, he jogged across the street.... 

 

 

The featured songs: The Letter by James Morrison from 'Undiscovered' and Fragile by Sting. 

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