"Uncle Terry? You look awful..." Mol giggled as he walked into the kitchen the next morning. The girl was wearing riding gear.

"I love you too, darlin'," he replied. "Haven't you got a school to go to or something?"

She grinned. "Day off. Going riding with a friend. When did you get here? Is Annie with you? Or Liam...?" He detected, with a wry amusement, that it was Liam who was the real draw.

"No, love. Just ugly old me. Sorry about that."

"You're not ugly...you just look like you've been up all night..."

"I notice you went with the old, though..." he muttered but the young girl didn't pick up on that retort.

A car horn sounded. "That's my ride. Great to see you, Uncle Terry..." She reached up and pecked his cheek before running out. "See ya, Mom!"

Mel ducked in from the patio. "Bye! Oh...you're up! I thought we wouldn't see you for hours yet... How you're feeling?"

Terry shrugged. "I've felt better. Jesus....what happened? Was I very objectionable?"

"You don't remember?"

"Not much."

"God, I could tell you anything now, couldn't I?" she teased. "You were okay. Totally plastered and slightly over-amorous but on the whole you were a good boy. Sit down. I'll get you a mug of tea and a fry up. That should settle your stomach - or the opposite. Either way you'll feel better... Go sit on the patio. It's a beautiful morning. The fresh air will clear your head..."

He wandered out into the sunny breezy morning, wincing slightly at the brightness of the sun. The Lapentis had finally taken the big step and moved to the wealthy suburbs across the bridge when Mol was a baby. Neither Mel or Dino were much taken with life outside the city but it suited the children better. Dino constantly moaned about commuting and being bored and neighbours who mowed their lawns and tried to involve him in golf club fund raisers.

But he was a member of the golf club and he was also a rather desultory member of the PTA. That had always made Terry howl. He had studiously ducked all such duties. Annie had long since given up on making a decent citizen of him. Annie. The jolt kicked him in the chest at the passing thought of her drifted through his brain. Annie.

He walked around the pool idly, toeing leaves as he lost himself in thought. Summer was turning to autumn, another year passing. He tried not to let it seem like some symbolic thing but it was difficult not to with his current morbid turn of mind. What now? He couldn't face going home without her and she clearly didn't want him anywhere near her at the moment. The job in the Middle East beckoned. He didn't want it but he couldn't quite see any reason not to take it now. It would be a long intractable negotiation and he would have to keep his wits about him. But it would take his mind off everything. Help him drop the veil again. Find some sort of rhythm to keep going. Nothing helps you forget your own problems like taking on someone else's.

"Penny for them?" Mel called over and indicated brunch was served. He smiled and strode to the table.

"That looks...enough to lay me low...What do you think I am...a prize fighter?" he laughed as he looked at the large platter of bacon, eggs, sausages, tomatoes and kidneys.

"Get it down you and drink a pot of tea. Here..." she poured out a mug for him and one for herself, sitting opposite him, resting her chin on her hands.

He settled down and began to eat, observing her quiet appraisal. "So? What's going on inside your pretty head?"

Mel smiled. "Don't patronize me, Terry. Just eat up."

He grinned and stopped. "You could always cook well. In fact that always amused me really. I mean there you were, the archetypal IT girl with the high powered job and the high maintenance life style and yet you could always whip up a storm in the kitchen..."

His train of thought amused her. She realized straight away that he was subconsciously comparing her to Annie. It revealed a lot about his state of mind. Clearly in every other way he didn't think she came as high on the list. It indicated, however, that whether he was mentioning his wife or not, she was evidently uppermost on his mind.

"Yeah well, even I had to have something going for me. How's Annie, Terry?"

Her sudden introduction of the name caught him off guard. His face stiffened and his chin shot up. She already thought she knew all she needed to know.

"Okay. I guess. Maybe you should call her. She probably needs a shoulder. Then you can come back and throw the plate at me."

Mel winced. "Ouch! That bad, huh?"

"Yeah, that bad..." He grimaced and returned to his food.

"So, she walked out....?"

"This twenty questions? Yeah...she walked out...Look, Mel, I really don't want to go into details. I'll leave that to you girls. You can have a real good bitchy girl session on this one. I fucked up and she walked. Okay? Then I got pissed. End of story. Today I'm sober and intend to go back and get on with it. That do you?"

Mel ran her hands through her hair. He obviously thought this was his fault. With relief she realized that her suspicion about Nicholas Costello was unfounded. Whatever had brought him to mind, it wasn't in conjunction with Annie, thank God. "Terry...you are my friend. Whatever you've done, you're still my friend. I don't intend to let anything that came between you and Annie affect that. Although I might kick you up the arse if you've been a dick."

He looked her straight in the eyes. "Tell me that again after you've spoken to her. Somehow I think you'll be gunning for me then too."

"Let me get the violins out, Terry. Someone's feeling very sorry for himself this morning..."

He gave her a bashful smile. "Mel, I really don't want to talk about this..."

"Then don't. Talk about something else. The kids?"

He groaned. "Can we stick to something safer?"

Mel whistled. "What, like our reminiscences of the past? What was it you said to me last night....Something about 'memorable fuck'...?"

"Christ, Mel!" He looked about him. "The kids might hear!"

"Don't worry. Dino left hours ago."

"I said that? To you?  Jesus, Mel, I apologise..."

Mel grinned over. "Hey, I was quite chuffed you even remembered! I mean memorable, hey? So much so that you never so much as tried to call me again?" He detected a slight lingering annoyance in that comment.  Was she still feeling some residual anger after all these years?

"Actually I did call back the next week but you'd already replaced me. I got the door and a flea in my ear..."

Mel pouted. "You didn't come back for me. You came back for her. I worked that out long ago."

Terry knitted his brows. "I did?"

"Sure you did. You had seen her that day when you called for your phone and she had got under your skin. I was the excuse you gave yourself for looking her up again. And the rest is history...I wasn't even in the game, Terry...not in your head..."

He leaned back and took a swig of tea. His head was still pounding and he suddenly felt tired again. Where was this leading? "What are you trying to say? That I saw you as a one night stand and Annie as something else? I was a young man. I was looking for something. Who knows? You still holding a grudge against me for that? You wish we had made something out of that night? That what you saying?"

She shook her head. "No. That is not what I meant. Frankly, you and I would have been a disaster. But it's a fact. You weren't really interested in me more than sexually. And I suppose I wasn't in you either. Strange though, how differently you reacted to the two of us girls. I got Casanova and Annie got Prince Charming..."

"I'm not really in a mood to analyse it, Mel. Way I see it is, we never really knew each other as people until a long time after we had had sex. With Annie and me it went the other way round. If you must know I think you're a wonderful woman and Dino is a very lucky man..."

"You been sleeping around, Terry? Is that what this is about?" She suddenly changed the subject.

"No...I've been screwing around. Feel better now you know that? Annie found out and it was the last straw for her. She's gone back to her mother or something." He lit up a cigarette and coughed.

"I suspect there's a little more to it than that..." Mel insisted doggedly.

"There is always a little bit more than that. But that is enough for now."

"Go to her. Talk with her. You know she won't slam the door in your face once she's cooled down. The woman's crazy about you. That's half the problem with you two. It always was. You spend half the time protecting each other because you adore each other so much and then the rest letting rip because neither of you even now seems to have accepted your good fortune in finding the person you needed in life. You really are two headcases, you know?"

He laughed at that, blowing out smoke and stubbing the cigarette end out on the remains of his food. "Nasty habit. Smoking and using a plate as an ashtray. But, I can do both as much as I like now. She won't take my calls. This time she wants to make some sort of point. Well, that's fine with me. .."

"Don't lie...."

"Okay, actually it isn't fine with me. But I have no choice in the matter. She's calling the shots and has the kids in her corner, I would imagine. So I'm going back to work. Thanks for last night, Mel. I really appreciate what you both did for me. I was on a knife edge but today's another day, as they say. I'll be fine. Honestly..."

He stood up and looked a little lost. She came over to him and took his hand. "Anytime, Terry. Anytime. I don't care what you did wrong. I know who you are - and what you are. People fuck up. I'm still your buddy. If you need a friend..."

He pulled her close and kissed her softly. "You know something? You might not have been the woman I needed - but I know a man who couldn't live without you. And he's my friend and in his way was as much in need of salvation as I was. Just a different salvation. And, mate, for that alone, I will love you forever." She hugged him close.

"Terry, take care. Don't make any mistakes now. You've got too much to lose..."

He took his leave and promised to stay in touch. She thought then that he looked doubtful. She felt there was a kind of finality about his demeanour as if he was almost accepting defeat this time.

He called a cab and left for the city. Mel picked up the phone and rang London.

She woke up early disturbed by his moving. Nick was wrapped around her; he was hot and she felt sticky. His arm was pinning her down and one hand was entwined in her hair. She could hear his breathing steady and slow as she eased her curls from his grasp and turned slowly. He rolled back onto the pillow and slept on. Zoe lay on her front and watched him. He was just so fine. She looked at his face and smiled. Nick was so handsome. Manly features, strong nose, etched jaw, heavy stubble already after just one night, long dark lashes over eyes closed in peaceful sleep. He was tanned after days in the sun, golden brown. His thick dark hair flopped on his forehead, shining with health.

Zoe reached out her hand to brush his fringe back and his eyes flickered open. He always woke so quickly and seemed able to become alert without that usual confused dreamy state most people passed through. Dad was like that. If you woke him he just ran a hand down his face and seemed to be immediately alert. She supposed it was something to do with their background as soldiers when they had needed to be able to respond immediately.

"What you looking at?" He smiled lazily and reached a hand to touch her face. "You forgiven me, then? Look, Zoe, I'm sorry about last night..." They had fallen asleep without speaking; she had turned her face away and refused to be cajoled by him.

She shrugged. "Suppose so. I didn't mean it like you thought. I wasn't thinking of some real wild scene. It's just that, well, I'm pretty naïve, Nick. I was always this really sensible well-behaved girl. My friends were up to all sorts but I was serious and studious and didn't really want to get involved. Liam was always up to all sorts of bother. He got in trouble at school you know for having it off with one of the teachers. She was just a substitute teacher - only about my age now- he was eighteen - but it caused a stink. Dad saw the headmaster and managed to calm them down and they didn't make a big deal of it. But I was never like that..."

He grinned. "But now you wish you'd been a bit wilder?"

"Not really. I was always too scared of consequences. But with you...there's nothing to fear. You can keep me safe from anything. That's all. But Nick...if you don't want to, then it's okay. It was just a crazy idea. Anything you want...nothing you don't want. Applies to you as well as me..."

That made him smile even broader. Then he thought a while, playing with her hair and rubbing his leg up and down hers sensually. "You're right in a way. Everyone's got the right to explore their sexuality. Look, Zoe...if you need to experience some of this, I can arrange it for you. Some set up that you don't need to feel threatened in. But just don't ask me to be there. I don't want to know the details or when or where or who with or anything like that. But if you need to play...who am I to stop you?"

His comment stunned her. It seemed to her to be incredibly selfless of him even if it was a pretty outrageous suggestion for a man to make to his girlfriend -but typical of Nick and his unorthodox philosophy of life. She hugged him close and whispered in his ear.

"You would agree to that? To keep me happy?"

"I would do anything for you. Anything..." he replied kissing her softly.

Zoe snuggled against him. "And that is why I will never mention this again. It was a stupid idea. Immature and sordid. I apologise. Nick, I would do anything for you....anything....you know that?"

He began to make love to her, smiling as he rolled over her body and massaged her breasts, sliding between her legs. Her head fell back on the pillow and her hands reached between his thighs to stroke him. Nick groaned and then something seemed to occur to him. He stopped and raised his head.

"Zoe? There is something I want you to do for me. I want it so much. I'm scared to ask you really but...it's really important to me..."

"What is it? Scared? Come on, Nick....you can say anything to me! Is this some sex thing you want me to do?"

He smiled as he shook his head. "Not really...well, in a sense it is, the ultimate sex thing...."

"What do you mean?" His manner was diffident as if he was skirting a topic he found very difficult. She sensed something very significant was coming.

"I want to be a father. I want you to have my baby. Our baby...Look, I know this wasn't what you had in mind but I've been thinking about how we could work it out and it wouldn't mean too many changes in what we'd planned..."

"...What? Baby?" Zoe stared openmouthed as he rambled on.

"...Okay, it would mean you had to put off starting work for a while but you don't officially finish at Uni for six months and it's really only another half year and then if we got a good nanny..."He slowed down as he observed the look of horror on her face. "What's the matter, Zoe...? Say something....please..."

"A baby? You want us to have a baby?"

He nodded and opened his mouth as if to start speaking again. She placed a finger on his lips. "Nick...I'm twenty two years old. I have not even finished my education. I'm just a kid. You can't expect me to give up everything for motherhood at this stage in my life!"

"Well, that's just it...it wouldn't be such a big deal. You're young, at the best age for childbirth, strong and healthy....we can employ a nanny...any sort of home help you like... I can work from home..."

"..You've got it all worked out, haven't you? Good God, Nick...are you crazy?" She sat up and pulled the sheet around her naked body. "You are going to stay home and help? Did I hear that right? Have you even the first fucking clue about what a baby requires? Don't make me laugh! And how can I work? How can I travel and cover stories in other parts of the globe with a baby in tow? Nick, this is just impossible!"

Her dismissive attitude clearly annoyed him; he did not take rebuff very well. "I didn't say we wouldn't have to make some sacrifices. Of course, things have to change a bit. I gave up my job for us...obviously you can't expect to have it all your own way..."

"Have it all my own way? Nick, I haven't even got a career to give up. I can't start a job giving them a list of things I can't do. I have to build my professional life up first! You are asking me to sacrifice everything I have ever dreamed of just to have a baby! Excuse me, but I don't really see where your so-called sacrifice comes even close! You still have a career and new prospects - it is me who has to be the fall guy for all this!"

Nick sat on the edge of the bed, his back to her, sinking his head into his hands. "I just want this so much. I want to marry you...straight away....why should we wait? What's the point? Zoe, I'm not getting any younger...please...please...I love you so much..."

"Nick! We've only known each other three months! Sure, I want to be a mother one day. Maybe when I'm in my thirties or something...but not now! Not for years yet. And we don't need marriage. I like things the way we are...for God's sake, Nick, who knows if this is forever! It's too early to tell! Of course I'll have your baby one day, if we're still together- but we have to be realistic. Things might change. A baby's for life..."

He got out of bed and began pacing about. "Forever? You think I can't tell the difference? This is forever. I'll never stop loving you. Three months, three years, thirty years - it doesn't make a bloody bit of difference...marry me....you'll never regret it...I'll spend my whole life giving you everything you need..."

"I don't want you to give me things! Don't you understand? I want to earn things for myself in another way than on my back with my legs open..."

"That is not the way it is..."

"Oh but it is! Nick....I love you....but give this time to grow. Give me time to grow. Don't push me too fast. Don't crowd me..."

He sighed and walked away out onto the deck and stood staring out to sea. Zoe slipped out of bed and wrapped herself in a silk robe before following him out. She lay against his naked back as he leaned outwards on the wooden rail pensive. "I'm sorry, Nickie. I don't want us to fight. I hate to deny you anything. But this is not right. You have to see that, baby..."

He nodded but said nothing, his eyes still fixed on the horizon and his face still and hard to read. With a shrug he escaped from her embrace and walked over to sit on a cane chair. Leaning forward, his hands joined and resting on his naked thighs he started speaking. "When I was in Perth, I went home..."

"To see your Mum and Dad?" Zoe gasped.

"Yeah. But they weren't there. They died a couple of years back." He sighed deeply and narrated the events of the previous day. Zoe dropped to her knees and sat at his feet as he quietly filled her in. "So...in the end, whatever I had done - or not done- they still loved me best. How to explain that?" He laughed sadly. "The only thing they ever asked for from me was that I give them some grandchildren. Carry on the name, you know? He might have been an old bastard but it still wasn't much for him to want at the end of the day..." He turned to her, his eyes limpid and more exposed than she had ever seen him. His emotions seemed raw and bloody. This had profoundly shocked him. "I realized...too bloody late, of course...that I had missed my last chance to make peace with them. I've lost my family. I don't deserve to have them anyway. I have nothing and no one in this world but you..."

"You have your sisters! You've begun to heal the breach with them! What you did was so right..."

"Ahhhh....it's too late, Zoe. I've got nothing in common with them nor they with me. Now that Mama and Papa are gone there's nothing to bring us together again. I want to try and make amends. To give my parents, albeit posthumously, the place in the future that they wanted. To give myself a stake in that future, too. Zoe...my life has been a worthless one. It has had no real purpose. I want to make it count before it's too late. God knows when my chance is gone forever. I suddenly got this feeling that I dare not wait anymore. Or there will be no more chances. I want a family, Zoe. I want to belong. I want people to care whether I live or die. I want to be part of some continuous thing...I want to be a better man....finally, I want to be a better man..."

His words tore at her heart. This was entirely a different matter from what he had said at first. Something very fundamental in him had shattered at the discovery of his parents' death. It was as if some floodgate to the man he might have been had been unleashed and he was foundering, trying to cling on to something in the tidal wave that was sweeping him along.

"Oh, Nick...Nick...I am so sorry. So very sorry. I never saw it from your perspective....you're right....things have altered. That happened the moment we met, didn't it? Something began which neither of us expected, or looked for, and it could be the only chance both of us ever get. Maybe I do have to look at my life differently from now on and realize that without you all the rest would probably be meaningless anyway..."

He grasped her hands. "I had this dream. I'm not sure I ever articulated it fully to myself. But it was you and me. You full of my baby. Mama clucking over you. Papa beaming proudly: 'That's my boy' and all that crap. Like some silly kid's fantasy. I wanted it to be real. Then I found out it never could be. But if we get married...make a baby...then part of it comes true. It's stupid and naïve of me but it seems so right. I can't explain it. It will change my life and all my goals. I will never be the same again. And I will give you everything in the world for this. Because I know it's not fair on you. I know I am asking too much. But I'm still asking. And I swear that you will not regret I if you say 'Yes'..."

He wasn't able to continue then, his voice choking on the words and his eyes wet with tears. She couldn't believe how vulnerable he was before her, practically begging, prepared to let her see what she knew nobody in this world had ever seen of him. He hadn't been angry that she had opposed him in this, just desperately sad and defeated. It made her feel selfish and immature, to be so shallow in the face of emotions of this depth.

"Nick....I don't know what to say....Don't cry...I can't bear that...you are so strong and fearless....I'm scared to see you brought so low. It makes me feel so worthless of your love...that I could hurt you so much...Nick....you're always the brave one..."

He made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a gulp for air. "Brave? I'm not brave. I'm scared of everything actually. That's why I live as I do. I'm too afraid to face the reality of life. That's the big secret about Nicholas Costello. He's afraid that someone may find out one day just how frightened he is of real life...of loneliness...of death...of growing old...and of all the sins on his soul..."

"Sins? What do you mean....sins?" Zoe asked wide-eyed. He fixed his soulful eyes on her and just shook his head. 

"A man like me can't live a life without committing every sin in the book...at some time or other..."

She slipped onto his lap and held his head to her breast; he hid his face like a little child. "I'll keep your secrets safe, Nick...you know I will...Nick? Let me think about the baby and the wedding. Get used to the idea. Give me a little time to get my head round it first? I promise that I will give you an answer soon...I just need to take it all in...."

He raised his head and gave her one of his beautiful smiles. "That's all I ask for. Whatever you decide. That's fine by me..." He reached out and kissed her softly, standing up and carrying back inside to bed. "Nothing to say we can't get a little practice in just in case though, huh?"

Annie sat cross-legged on her bed surrounded by documents and files each laid out in some particular, if haphazard, order of her own. She was dressed in pyjamas with her hair loosely tied in a messy pony tail. Sitting back she surveyed all that seemed to remain of her life. On one pile were all the deeds on this apartment. It was in her name, some tax dodge of his. She had decided to sell it. It was far too big and also at the current market value for central London would fetch an enormous price. He would give her anything she asked for, she knew that; this was enough. With the sale of the property, she could buy a smaller place further out and still have a substantial lump sum to invest for her future.

It wasn't that she wished to deceive him but she simply wanted to take a reasonable but not excessive share of the spoils. Part of what had driven her to this final act had been to prove that she could stand on her own to feet, that her useful life was not over and that she was still in a position to look after herself in future. As for the rest that was driving her, she was unsure. But the discovery of his infidelity, his lies and then the sordid reality of having picked up a venereal infection had simply finished her off

The children were independent now and had no need of her in a practical sense - this one apartment was enough to secure her future while still leaving her a little bit of pride and ensuring that she needed a job to supplement her income - and she had one now. It was still a bit of a shock to her that someone was actually willing to employ her after all these years. One interview - and a job offer on the spot. How lucky was that at her age? Of course, she was vastly overqualified for the position and the salary was pretty miserable - it was hard to see how many people could survive on that pittance in London considering the cost of housing and transport if you weren't independently wealthy to start with. But even so, she had made a first impression and was starting on the first of next month as a copy editor for a publisher who specialized in historical non-fiction.  It was the first step on a ladder.

Then there was the life insurance that Terry had taken on her years ago. It was a really big sum and she wanted that to go to the children. That was all she would probably have other than a little bit of property and a small sum that her Dad had left her - apart from her jewellery, which she hoped would stay intact and go to Zoe. She was trying to work out relative values so that she could decide on what she should allow for Liam. The problem was the cost of insuring the gems. It seemed wrong for Terry to be footing that bill anymore so she planned to take out a safety deposit instead and just stow it there, cancelling the policy. She wouldn't be wearing the vast majority of it ever again. Where would she be going that warranted diamonds and pearls?

She didn't need a car if she chose a smaller apartment near a tube station with shops close by. That was one expense saved that she could cross off the list. All in all, she knew she would be well provided for and safe - but her own boss. There was already an offer on the apartment and she had taken out a bank account in her maiden name to deal with the transaction. Picking up the large kitchen scissors, she cut up all the credit cards in her married name. She wasn't having him paying her bills anymore - or tracing her movements by her spending. Her mobile phone account was cancelled already; she had a new number which she still hadn't given out, even to Liam and Zoe. They could mail her or use the internet phone if they wished to talk to her for the time being. Not that there was any apparent sign that either wished to get in touch in more than a perfunctory way these days. But it had always been like that. If she hadn't insisted on getting in touch in the past they would probably have never got round to it. Kids, hey? Well, it suited her fine for now - she really wasn't in the mood for explanations anyway.

Realistically she knew that if he wished to trace her, Terry would find her in two minutes - her maiden name was not exactly going to fool him one bit - but that wasn't quite the point. If he wanted to she had no objection to him knowing where she was living and working but he would understand her message. Keep away from me. I have broken my ties with you. 

She knew that was cruel. He called her several times a day at home and mailed her incessantly. She had answered sometimes, enough to be civil, but keeping contact short and to the point. There was to be no discussion of anything personal at the moment. 'If you want to call me, Terry, make sure you have a valid reason - or I'll hang up', she had told him. He was subdued and quiet when he rang, thankfully not trying to reason with her but just enquiring how she was and did she need anything, had she heard from the children, was her Mum around, that sort of thing. He had obliquely referred to her health problem with a curt. "I got a course of treatment. Thank you for that. I am very sorry to have put you though it," but she had not answered. What could you say? 'It's okay that you gave me a sexually transmitted disease and I'm over it now?'  Again he hadn't pushed. But then he wouldn't, would he? Who knew better than Terry Thorne when and what to say to negotiate his way carefully through dangerous waters?

Working out a few sums on her calculator, she sat back and gave it some thought. She had ten days before she started work and decided to give herself a treat. It had been a pretty grim couple of weeks; she was lonely and depressed and in need of somewhere to go and hide for a while. Picking up the brochure for the luxury health farm resort in the Berkshire countryside she read through it. Where else can a woman go on holiday alone without being the target of unwanted attention or just left in solitude feeling even more isolated amongst the crowd that she did already? Plus there would be the added bonus of having a series of treatments guaranteed to help her relax and chill out: meditation, yoga, massage, alternative therapies, detox...As she poured herself another belt of malt and lit another cigarette, she knew she needed to prise herself away from the booze and the fags - not to mention the sleeping pills that were the only way she ever got any rest these days. Annie was a wreck and she knew it.

It was another glorious morning in the Hills, a warm breeze blowing as Liam poured himself a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice and rested his arm on the parapet of the balcony where breakfast had been set out by a maid. He felt at peace with the world here, absolutely in his element, and full of a quiet contemplative calm. His unruly hair was ruffled up by the wind and his recent sleep, his cheeks were stubbly with a bristly beard and he was dressed in nothing but a worn old pair of denims, his feet bare and his chest naked apart from the leather thong around his neck which held a crudely wrought cross and the braided bands around his wrist. He didn't even wear a watch these days.

Carrie observed him from where she was sitting on a mat on the floor nearby in the middle of her early morning pranas. It was hard to keep your mind clear of thought when faced with such a delightful sight as young Liam first thing in the morning.

"Liam! Sleep well?" She addressed him with a smile.

"Didn't want to disturb you there. Sorry...yeah, slept really well. Like a baby."

She rose and went to the table, selecting a few pieces of fruit and beginning her breakfast. "Come and join me. We haven't had a chance to talk for a few days. How's it going?"

In a rather bizarre train of events typical of the incestuous bonds that seemed to permeate the entertainment business in Los Angeles, Liam's producer just happened to be the daughter-in-law of the best friend of his current benefactor. She was a former actress of some note who after a rather scandalous life of sex and drugs and failed marriages had gone into therapy and emerged as a new woman. Now she was a novelist and raconteur, a witty and irreverent observer of Hollywood and its many eccentricities. She was also genuinely interested in nurturing careers that she believed were worth the time and often opened her luxurious home to fledgling performers. There was often salacious talk about what she was really interested in: such behaviour in show business circles usually smacked of the casting couch or the sort of 'aging beauty exploits tomorrow's next best thing' and vice versa scenario, so ably captured in films like Sunset Boulevard.

Yet the cynics would be wrong in this case. Carrie was actually more of a mother figure than a marauding siren. Daughter of celebrities herself, the victim of their broken and multiple marriages and total lack of concern for anyone but themselves, she had reduplicated the pattern in her own marriages and with her children and now felt a deep sense of loss at the waste of the years. She saw the birds of prey that still circled in this shallow and immoral world but also recognised the talent and genuine creativity that existed and could so easily be warped and frittered away if young hopefuls became ensnared in the many traps. So when she could, she took some of these up and coming men and women into her circle, gave them a comfortable and secure home, advice when they needed it and nudged them towards the better contacts and away from some of the wolves. They were like her babies and she followed their later careers with pride.

Liam Thorne was just such a young man. She had liked him instantly when they had met at her friend's house. At that time he had been living in a hotel and she had detected that he was a little lonely and fairly confused by the whirl of attention being shown him - not to mention the cloying and over-effusive friendship of many. The boy was not the sort of young man to find this very appealing and she sensed an unease with it all and in the whole scene in general. His music was not the typical pretty boy ballad material but introspective and beautifully elegant love songs or observations about life with intelligent literate lyrics and profoundly moving insights into men and women. Liam's voice was unusually, husky and plaintive with a soft high tone which never seemed effeminate. He was also very good to look at even if he seemed little bothered by his appearance and without much vanity. There was that Australian manliness about him that was very opposite from a lot of the self-obsessed young Californian men. He reminded Carrie of the young men she had known and loved in her youth when she had been a flower child and danced naked at Woodstock, listening to songs about saving the world and giving peace a chance.

Now he was residing in her house and seemed to be very happy there. His days were full, often downtown at the studio working with musicians who were building on his acoustic guitar and piano melodies into more slick arrangements, or in his room here writing and composing. He had even made a few recordings in one of her bathrooms where he said the sound echo was great and suited the melancholy hollowness of one of the pieces he was working on. It was still not ready, he said, but he knew what he was looking for. But the lyrics still needed honing - he wouldn't let her hear this one until he was entirely satisfied.

Carrie often wondered about Liam's private life. There was no sign of a current girlfriend and he didn't seem to do much partying beyond what was minimally acceptable to put his name about. There had been no wild drunken scenes which were often a consequence of having young people with a lot of freedom and disposable income in her home nor did he appear to be a user of illegal substances - one house rule she was strict about having herself been a drug taker with a police record in the past. That was where he seemed to differ from the hippies of her past - tripping on acid had been almost de rigueur for them all. The little he had told her of his family was that his Mum and Dad lived in France and were not too happy with his chosen career; he had a sister who was either in Boston or Sydney, he wasn't too sure at the moment. Beyond that he didn't seem inclined to enlarge on his background and Carrie didn't push. It might have been his natural reticence or it could be that he had broken with them - time alone would tell. But he was a fine young man, a boy any parent should have been proud of and she was determined to be there for him and keep him safe. His family must be wearing blinkers not to value him and his singular talent and integrity more.

"What are your plans for today?" She asked him as he tucked into crusty bread and cold meat.

"Thinking of taking a drive. Need to get out. I've been working too hard and forcing things. I think I need to chill for a while. I might even take a short break. Go see a few people. I think I'm at a place with it all where I'm in danger of trying too hard...does that make sense?"

She nodded. "Very much so. You often need to step back and take time for things to percolate. Use any of the cars you like. Or take a holiday. Where would you go?"

He shrugged. "If I had my way, I'd go and see Mum and Dad. We need to talk about a few things. We've always been pretty close, even if not always together, and recently things just haven't been firing on all cylinders, ya know? I feel I need to make peace with them before I can really be ready for all this. I might ring Carla and ask her if I can disappear for a week or so. We're ahead of schedule on the album and have come to a bit of a standstill over the final few tracks. I can work on those anywhere and might very well get more inspiration if I get away..."

"You do that. She's very approachable. I think it's a great idea. Are they in France?"

Liam hesitated at that. "I think so. I mean, that's where they're based. Dad travels a fair bit and I got the impression Mum's been in UK from something she said about my grandma in an email. But honestly, I haven't been keeping in touch much. I think I'll go call them and see what's new..."

Carrie smiled in agreement. It seemed that her fears were unfounded. Maybe this fall out with his family was only minor. Whatever it had been, Liam's attitude seemed mature and grounded on a number of levels. It would soon be solved if he approached it like that.

"Liam, can I ask you something? Have you a girlfriend? You don't seem to be seeing anyone."

He shook his head and grinned. "No, I haven't. It's been a bit quiet lately on that front. Actually, and this will probably sound a bit off, I've been enjoying the break from all that. Sex and stuff, you know? I think celibacy can be good for the soul at times." He laughed at the pretentiousness of his remark. "Christ, that sounds such 'auteurish' crap, doesn't it? But it's true. I used to be always chasing girls or letting them chase me and basically getting nowhere. Got laid a lot but my heart was rarely engaged. And when it was, I usually behaved badly and fucked up. I've got tired of all that and now I feel I'm ready for something more meaningful. But you can't just make it happen. Until it does, I rather think the absence of intimacy is feeding my muse. They always say when you're lonely or sad, you write better..."

"...And are you? Lonely? Sad?"

He tilted his head to one side and thought awhile. "Not exactly. I enjoy my solitude and don't feel unhappy. But there are things in my life that are missing and I'm aware of that. But plenty of time. I'm in no hurry..." He grinned across and Carrie thought what a charmer he was, all the more so because he didn't seem to be using it. She wasn't sure about him, but she guessed he'd break a few hearts before he was finished. Liam excused himself to make a few phone calls but not before he had helped himself to half the fruit basket. That boy could eat. He seemed to appeal to her maternal side in everything he did.

The Vineyard Spa In Berkshire was not only a luxurious five star retreat set in rolling countryside with sports and leisure facilities but it was also a prestigious spa and health resort which managed to combine a Michelin star restaurant and impressive wine list along with its other indulgences and its totally narcissistic programme of therapies.

Annie had been there two days when she met Jens. So far she had kept herself to herself, smiling at other residents, engaging a few in bland conversations and filling her days with treatments, classes and meditation. She had left the pills at home; healthy exhaustion and relaxation sent her to sleep at night without the need for anything artificial. Today, after a morning of yoga and swimming, she took a light lunch and then made her appointment in the spa for a body scrub massage. In a beautiful treatment suite, stylishly zen and with sitar music playing softly in the background, she divested herself of the white robe she had been wearing and lay beneath the sheet on the bed waiting for her masseuse, already drifting off to the hypnotic beat and with the fragrance of ylang ylang from a subtle burner stimulating her senses. Lying naked in this peaceful and luxurious surrounding, she found herself sexually aroused in some subliminal way. It was a long time since she had had sex. It was a long time since she had wanted it, to be perfectly honest; the thought of it usually brought back the unwelcome and painful memories of her separation back and soon killed off her libido.

But today felt different. Her thoughts were not specifically sexual but merely sensual; her skin felt sensitive and her senses felt aroused but her thoughts were not particularly framing any overt erotic notion. She found herself listening to her body and delighting in the awareness of her senses. Just then the door opened and someone entered. She did not even open her eyes as the person moved about the room and finally took a seat by her side. Not until he spoke, that is. Then her eyes shot open.

"Good afternoon, Ms....Dwyer...may I call you Anna? I am Jens. I will be your masseur today..."

Annie gasped. "You're a man!" He certainly was a man. The young man perched on the stool by her waist was a startlingly handsome young man. His accent and his name suggested he was Nordic as did his white blonde hair, masculine etched jaw and the clear blue eyes. He stood up with a smile and she saw that he was very tall, at least six feet or more, broad-shouldered and very muscular beneath his white outfit of tight fitting T-shirt and pants. He looked like a body builder, tanned, with that all-year round look, fit and athletic. The impressive bulge at his groin was positioned right in her line of vision.

"I am. Is this a problem? I assure you, I am extremely professional about such things..."

Annie blushed and suddenly felt naïve and rather prissy for her comment. She realised that these things were entirely normal and it was only her own hang-ups that were making her feel shy. "No...Of course it isn't a problem. I was just expecting the girl who showed me in..." she retorted lamely.

"Good...then we can begin...."

The body scrub required a fairly intimate access to her body although Jens used the towel to cover her sex at all times possible. She was wearing a rather absurd pair of paper panties provided with the robe but he moved those out of the way as he massaged her sensually with the abrasive aromatic scrub to reach every part of her, apart from her actual genitals. His touch was provocative and she felt herself becoming wet as he rubbed and stroked her buttocks and inner thighs. She found herself having to breathe deeply to try and control her rising ardour.

Jens seemed unconcerned and methodically worked his way through the process, deftly but professionally. Finally, he slipped away the towel covering her upper body and, as she lay on her back, he began to massage her chest, rubbing the exfoliating gel over in a wide arc and then working in ever decreasing arcs until he was cupping a breast in each palm and tenderly stroking. Annie began to wonder if his motion had changed from efficient technician to something approaching an erotic touch. Did she imagine that he lingered there longer than he needed to?

But almost immediately he replaced the towel and helped her to a sitting position. "Take a shower through there and then dry off and come back in. We need to moisturise and massage that tension away..." Annie looked at him wondering what did he mean by tension? She had felt laid back and loose. Or was it a euphemism? Was he offering her further services?

Whilst showering she thought about it. She was hardly naïve. No matter how respectable these places were, she knew that a blind eye was turned to private arrangements and that many women actually went for a legitimate excuse to get laid by younger men. Terry had often remarked about how the girls even in the spas of up market hotels usually indicated to him if he took a massage that for a small extra charge he could have special relief. Was Jens merely giving her the opener to request such a bonus treatment?

Annie giggled to herself as she dried off and donned another pair of the rather unsexy white paper panties. She might be desperate but a hand job from a masseur was hardly the replacement for what she lacked.

Back on the table, she let him begin the deep and sensual massage of her back and legs. He gave her buttocks careful attention, nudging her legs apart to work the upper thighs. Again she felt his touch arousing but hid her face on the soft pillow and tried to think of something else. The atmosphere was soporific with the hypnotic music, the fragrant aromatic scent, his strong hands manipulating her and the thick viscous massage oil trickling down her heated skin. She felt herself dozing off and her dreamy brain filling with idle, not sexual but more sensual, thoughts and images. Jens eased her over onto her back and this time, when he leaned over from behind and massaged her breasts, she felt her nipples peak. Her eyes fluttered open and she watched his big hands touching her, noticing every detail, even down to the golden hairs on his impressive tanned forearms. This time she was in no doubt. He was lingering on her breasts and kneading them in a sexual way.

Glancing up she saw he was watching her reaction and had shed the professional distance. He smiled seductively. "Don't be embarrassed, Anna. It's a natural reaction to stimulation. Part of the release of total relaxation."

Annie felt impelled to glance down further to his groin. And she saw the evidence she needed. Where before she had observed a soft if impressively large bulge, she could now clearly see the awkward jut of a pronounced erection.

"Yes...the same for me. A natural reaction to the sensory pleasure of a woman's breasts. It is nothing we should feel ashamed about..."

She held her breath but he merely continued down her body, stopping pointedly when he reached her lower groin, adjusting himself discreetly and then continuing on. Shortly afterwards, he helped her up and handed her the white robe while turning away for her to don it. It seemed a ludicrous courtesy after what he had recently discovered about her body from the intimate massage.

As she was rearranging the thick towelling robe, Jens spoke softly, still facing the wall. "Anna? Can I ask you something? Would you join me for dinner tonight in the restaurant? I would be very honoured..."

He turned round slowly and smiled. "You are a very beautiful woman. This would be a private matter..."

Annie stared at him, completely stunned at the turn of events. "Dinner? Tonight?"

He shrugged. "Why not? I would like to get to know you better...unless you have other plans....?"

She shook her head and found herself accepting his invitation. Seven thirty in the hotel restaurant. She had a date. With a man. 

Terry stood at the gate and watched his youngest son stroll along, swaggering slightly with a grin on his stubbly face. He was wearing the ubiquitous worn denim jeans, boots with a pointed toe that added to the cowboy roll, a black T-shirt and a battered old leather jacket. His hair was longer than before, the curl taking over. But he looked lean and tanned, relaxed and happy. He had a sudden dart of happiness at the sight of his son and then realized that it had been a long time since he had felt pleasure. In fact it had been a long time since he had felt anything. His former aptitude for burying emotion deep had resurfaced with a vengeance in recent weeks. And the worrying thing was, he hadn't even noticed it.

"I see you dressed for the occasion..." Terry held his hand out and Liam grabbed it; his father pulled him close and gave him a hug. "It's good to see you, mate..."

"Same here, Dad. Couldn't believe you were still in New York. What's up?"

Terry shrugged. "Just business. Nothing important. Let's get you downtown and smartened up and I might just stand you a decent dinner..."

Later that evening, Liam joined his father in the bar of the hotel where they were saying. Terry was impressed at the transformation; his son had taken him at his word and was now well turned out in a velvet jacket with a white shirt over a well cut pair of black wool pants. Liam had shaved and tamed his hair and looked both healthy and handsome; his father did not miss the effect the young man had on women in the bar as he strolled in jauntily.

"My God, who are you? Got a date?" Terry grinned.

Liam laughed. "Oi, I can do smart casual too, you know? Anyway I knew a date with the old man would require some effort - but no tie. I refuse to go that far, even for you."

"No worries. I think I can stand the informality. Beer? Or are you hungry? We could go straight there?"

"Where's there?" Liam asked.

"Good Vietnamese a few blocks away. I know you prefer that."

"Great. Let's find a decent bar first and get a proper drink. I hate these poncy hotel lounges."

The two men rose and left to step out into the raw cold of a November night. Liam shivered in his light jacket. Terry belted up his overcoat. "You'll catch pneumonia the way you dress..."

But his son just laughed as if he was invincible. You are at twenty one. Nothing can ever bring you down - not until something actually does.

In a lively Irish bar, they ordered Caffrey's and sat at the bar talking quietly. A rugby match was playing on the TV; they sat watching and making observations. Liam loved the game with a passion, much as Terry had done at that age. He'd played for his school and university too. Terry could see he missed that part of his life, the Saturday mornings on the pitch. He recalled being on the sidelines watching Liam, feeling that swell of pride when he made a break with his quick burst of speed, shrugging off the challenges of bigger men who tried to take him down. Liam had been as brave a kid as you could wish for and a delight to watch on or off the field. He felt he could just sit in this bar all night and watch his son, listen to him talk and soak up his company. God, he loved this boy so much.

"So....tell me all...let's get another round in and you can fill me in on the details about life as a rock star..."Terry asked, calling over the barman for a refill.

"I'm not a rock star! But things are great. Really good. Better than I 'd ever hoped for...." Liam related the events of the past two months. Terry was amazed. Either his son was exceptionally talented or he had had a phenomenally lucky break - or perhaps it was both?

"...Look, Dad...I'm not trying to prove you wrong here. I just want you to see that I have got something worth selling and it isn't some naïve pipe dream. I truly believe I have something to say and can't imagine any other way of spending my life. It's not about money. I would be happy with just getting by. Music is just my life, Dad...that's what I want you to understand about me...."

His father smiled. "Hey, don't get me wrong, Liam! I don't care what you choose to do as a career. I'll support anything you decide. But when you dropped that clanger on us, you didn't give us much to go on. I thought you hadn't got a real plan of action. It seemed like you were just making some wild shot in the dark. I was wrong. You did have things worked out. Mate, I have no objection to being the son of a millionaire rock star. Imagine how comfortable that will make my old age?"

They both found that comment amusing. "I'm not a rock star. How many times I got to tell you that? And to be honest when I spoke to you, it was a bloody wild idea in my head. I had a lot of material but it was amateurishly put together and I knew no one. You were dead on. My reaction was immature and frankly I'm ashamed of it. You know something? I wouldn't do that to anyone but you. Why is that?" Liam took a long drink of his beer.

"Because you can. Because I'm your Dad. Because you always feel like a kid when you're back home but elsewhere you feel like a man. Liam...I reacted badly too. I just want to put that behind us and for you to know that your success delights me more than you can know. I'd love to hear some of your songs. Would you give me a tape?"

"I'll give you a bloody recital if you want. Wait..." Liam walked up to the bar and had a word with the boss. The guy nodded and pointed to the small sound stage. Liam ambled over, picked up the guitar that was resting there waiting for the band to come on later, ran a few test chords and then perched on the stool. "This is for my Dad," was all he said. "He used to be a soldier."

Terry frowned slightly wondering what was coming. Liam was resolutely anti-war and he wondered if he was about to get some song with a 'Give peace a chance' theme. But he was intrigued and settled back to listen, lighting a cigarette and smoking pensively as the sombre opening bars sounded.

There are children standing here,
Arms outstretched into the sky,
Tears drying on their face.
He has been here.
Brothers lie in shallow graves.
Fathers lost without a trace.
A nation blind to their disgrace,
Since he's been here.

And I see no bravery, 
No bravery in your eyes anymore.
Only sadness.

Terry's throat constricted as the moving and sometimes harrowing lyrics unfolded in the husky soft voice with its edge of pain. He had been there, witnessed countless scenes like that as both a soldier and over the years in other capacities. He had once had a long talk with Liam about war, triggered by the situation in the Gulf on a TV news programme. Liam had wanted him to explain what it was like from a soldier's point of view to witness the brutality and even to be aware that your actions might have caused it. Liam had been about seventeen at the time. He had asked his father had he felt courageous to walk along beside a tank carrying a gun. Was that his definition of bravery?

Terry had smiled sadly and said it was not. He remembered saying to his son, "You have to be there for many reasons. Some are right. Some are wrong. But they are not of your choosing. But once you are there, few men see what they see and are not affected. There's no bravery on any side, only sadness that people can do this to each other in the name of an ideal. You learn very quickly that ideals are worthless if they cause you to lose the main plot. That life is about life. And anything that brings death and misery can never be good. Don't shoot the man you send to do your dirty work. Change the mindsets of the men in power. Until they shake off their obsession with hollow arguments then these scenes will reduplicate again and again and again all over the world..."

Liam had listened and the comments he had made were here, set down in a hauntingly beautiful lament, a paean to the forgotten innocent casualties of war. It honoured them and it honoured his father's experiences, too. The simple power of the lyric and its poignant truth staggered him. How had this boy synthesized this message so acutely from a few passing reminiscences and TV newsreel? It was at that moment that Terry understood what a talent Liam possessed and he felt shame to know his son so poorly as never to have recognised the depth of his soul before.

Houses burnt beyond repair.
The smell of death is in the air.
A woman weeping in despair says,
He has been here.
Tracer lighting up the sky.
It's another family's turn to die.
A child afraid to even cry out, says,
He has been here.

And I see no bravery,
No bravery in your eyes anymore.
Only sadness.

Terry noticed the attention of the audience. It was hardly the typical song to open with in a crowded bar early evening. But whether it was the startlingly original subject matter, the elegant and haunting music, or the sheer power of Liam's stage presence which was undeniable, they were all caught up in the moment. He felt his heart swell with pride and almost had to restrain himself from standing up and telling everyone in sight: 'That's my son!' He wished Annie were here to see this. Imagine how she would feel!

There are children standing here,
Arms outstretched into the sky,
But no one asks the question why,
He has been here.
Old men kneel and accept their fate.
Wives and daughters cut and raped.
A generation drenched in hate.
Yes, he has been here.

And I see no bravery,
No bravery in your eyes anymore.
Only sadness.

He strummed the final jarring dirge-like chords and hung his head for a moment as the plaintive echo of his voice died away. Applause rippled through the bar and people asked for something else. Liam shook his head saying "Some other time, maybe?" replaced the guitar and moved back to his father at the bar. A fresh beer was set down by the owner, a big red faced chap with a pronounced Irish brogue.

"That was a fine song, son. You Irish?"

Liam shook his head. "Not really. My granddad was..."

"Your son? You the soldier?" He addressed Terry.

"Correct," Terry replied, his guarded diffidence returning at being identified by a stranger. 

"British?"

"Australian."

The man grinned. "Thought you'd been in Ulster there for a minute. Wouldn't make many friends in here if you had."

Terry's mind shot back to years before on the streets of the Province. To assassination squads and bomb blasts. To undercover surveillance and to the terrible cost that period of his life had demanded of him.

"That's the sort of reason he wrote the song, I think. Reactions like that, ya know?" Terry replied softly.

His comment was met by a blank stare but Liam grinned broadly at the observation. As the owner moved away, Terry turned to his son.

"I cannot even begin to tell you how much that moved me. Apart from to say this. I never dreamed I could raise any kid to be a halfway decent citizen. And yet somehow I managed to father a man like you. It's taken me half a century to get to the place you're already in. Liam...all debts are paid in full. What else can I say?"

The smile he got back was an even greater reward. "You just did. I've never quite been able to deal with the fact you are my father. All I ever wanted to do was make you proud of me. If you are....then I ask for nothing else that that..."

It was an intensely emotional moment in the most incongruous of places. They could hardly have a guy moment there and then, so they both just looked, downed their beers and Terry settled the bill.

Before walking out into the night, at the door, Liam put his arm on his Dad's back affectionately. "Now where's this restaurant? I'm fucking starving, mate..."

Camilla Evers was holding a dinner party at her spacious harbourside mansion with its impressive outlook and dramatic designer inspired décor. Her husband, Mark was a self-made entrepreneur, a chancer who had begun by selling mobile phones on the streets of Sydney when they had first entered the market, gone on into opening the first chain of one-stop cell phone shops in Australia and then, after making several fortunes, had expanded into telecommunications in a wider sense, entering a partnership with a major Asian manufacturer of parts. This had taken him into the super-league, making him one of the country's richest men and a shining example of the Australian success story.

He was also a rather coarse, opinionated, overbearing and unpleasant man - the very image of a pushy salesman who actually does get to live the dream to which he aspires. His fourth wife, Camilla, was thirty one, a beautiful former model and a younger replica of the former three. Zoe did not envy her position much, despite the obvious advantages of her husband's fortune. She had a young son and had thus staked her claim successfully - but he was only the youngest of six children, the oldest of whom, Sean, was already being groomed for his future role as Chairman of the Board. She wa way down in the pecking order when the spoils were distributed.

It was a select gathering of about twenty guests at a sit-down dinner in a dining room perched on an elevated projection from the main house with dramatic views of the city and the harbour from its glass walls. It was an interesting mix of influential businessmen, political figures and a few famous celebrities with their partners - and into this walked Nick and Zoe.

Nick had been impressed from the outset once he had realized who these people were. This was real money and an introduction to the highest level of the Australian meritocracy - not an opportunity to be taken lightly. He was aware that their invitation was not much more than making up the numbers with a couple who would be the entertainment for this largely jaded and incestuous crowd. Nick, the action man, and this rather startlingly lovely young woman of his. Such situations held no fear for Nick. He was a past master at blending in with any society given the advantage such behaviour might offer him. This was work and he approached it like any other assignment - with professional expertise and ruthless efficiency.

He knew everything about everyone there, more than they would ever imagine that anyone could get on them. He was already fully up to speed on their businesses, financial positions, personal lives and the deeper dirt that only an intelligence officer of his background would know how to uncover.

He had dressed exactly as he wished to portray himself - a working class boy made good who was a bit cocky and certainly on the make. It was not a role that actually required much acting from him. In a pair of tight snakeskin dark brown pants, a matching velour jacket and a white open necked flamboyant shirt, his cuffs unfastened and folded back casually over the edge of his jacket, his one leather glove appearing an amusing affectation, he seemed to be a rather self obsessed fashion victim. Zoe knew he was trying to give an impression that he was rather tough and street wise but a bit of a baby in this world of seasoned financial sharks. God help them, she smiled to herself. Nick would eat them all for breakfast.

Mark had sent a launch to their home and as they ran up from the jetty, Nick breezed into the reception room where everyone was having drinks and almost stopped the show. The women, mostly young and beautiful trophy wives and girlfriends turned and almost absorbed his aura, while the men, mostly older and showing signs of too much good living and not enough exercise, gave him the once over. But they were alphas, the leaders of their packs and this young buck was like the pretender to the crown; they fixed him warily in their sights and kept a tight rein on their women.

Until their eyes alighted on his companion, and another shimmer of interest rippled through the gathering. Women sharpened claws and men felt the stirring of interest. Young meat: a beauty that no one had yet met. This new couple was going to present everyone with an extra charge to the occasion. The evening began to take on a whole new dynamic.

Zoe was impressed with Nick's capacity to be charming and appear apparently guileless. He spoke openly about his military background, admitted the loss of his hand in action as if it was nothing special and spun a very plausible yarn about his US business in security and how he had decided to return home now that these concerns were pressing in the previously fairly safe region. We all lived in dangerous times. By the end of the evening he had a major contract with Evers and several other men present had made appointments to see him in the following week. It was a very useful night's work.

Whilst the men talked business, the inevitable separation of the sexes occurred at these sorts of gatherings where the men rarely regarded their arm candy on equal terms when it came to social conversation. But then the women for the most part were merely tolerating their partners, acting out the façade which was largely based on a financial agreement: my youth and beauty for your substance and wealth. Not much new in that deal.

She found herself standing on a balcony with Susie Carmichael. Susie was an English girl, a former tennis player and her husband, Conor, was an Australian player himself, a former Wimbledon champion. They were perhaps the only relatively normal couple present in many ways - both in their mid thirties and with a small family. Susie was watching Nick at a distance.

"Quite a specimen. He's turning heads, love," she observed.

Zoe looked across and smiled. "He always does. Women adore him. Men are wary."

"Does that worry you?"

She thought about it for a few moments. "Sometimes. But the strange thing is he's very faithful to me. He seems to have no interest in anyone but me. He's not really like anyone else I have ever known."

"He keeps looking over at you. He must love you very much."

Zoe smiled shyly. "Yes. He does. But he's moving so fast. He wants me to have a baby. Get married. I wish he would slow down...but I adore him so. I truly do. There's no man in this world like my Nick..."

The older woman looked affectionately at her young friend. "Make him wait. You mustn't be pushed into it, Zoe. You have to be ready to have a baby. They take so much from you -e ven when you want one more than anything. Give yourself a few years yet. He has to understand that..."

"Wish I could talk to my Mum...." Zoe idly observed. Susie realized straight away that she was inadvertently standing in for the maternal role in Zoe's subconscious.

"Then talk to her..."

"Can't. She...doesn't approve of me and Nick..."

"She's still your Mum. Hey, my advice is get in touch and try and clear the air! Then ask her to help you. If you feel you need her, then, girl, you do need her. You're so young. Believe me, you must never break with your Mum...or your Dad. In the end it will destroy you...and Nick. It will lie between you. Life can't always  bethe dream is seems to be now... One day when things get tough, you will look at him and blame him unless you sort this out. I know...I've seen it happen." She finished with an arm placed on her friend's shoulder. "But enough of that! It's my very last word on the subject..."

"I have another suggestion, gentlemen," Deborah Stavin's comment brought all eyes around the table to her. "...Whilst I fully understand your feelings about requiring to have an agent on him, particularly in account of the sensitivity of the assignment and his maverick reputation, but if we use an officer on the ground it will immediately cast doubt with his contacts on his reliability, Similarly, if we bring in another operative that he doesn't know, he will be uneasy..."

The chairman of the small discussion group interrupted. "...Then what have you in mind?"

"I'm a linguist of some note. I'm fluent in Arabic and have already an academic reputation as something of an expert on the region and the political issues. Furthermore I am known as holding a position in a government think tank which specializes in policy planning and risk assessment in these very areas. If I turned up as his translator and advisor it would be easy to justify. I'm also a woman - once burqa'd up they'll barely give me a second glance. It would also be comparatively easy to put around the intel that Thorne and I are actually lovers  and that is the real reason why he 'arranged' for my appearance on this jaunt. How convenient to bring his mistress with him? It will be a perfectly acceptable explanation in their mindset."

"Any truth to the rumour?" The director asked her with a cynical smirk.

'Well...actually....!"Deborah gave him a wry grin and rolled her eyes at him. "I cannot tell a lie, sir...but, if the story is true, so much the better, hey? And Thorne isn't going to give you the run around if I'm the designated agent, now, is he?"

The men round the table exchanged glances. "You are not field trained. It's a highly dangerous city."

"I'm a patriot. Furthermore, he's the expert in the field. Let him show what he can do. And I do not intend to take any chances at all anyway...Come on, guys....you know it's the best deal you have..."

A further look around the table confirmed that she was right. "You got it then....join him over there. If you were his mistress you wouldn't fly over together. That would alert the wife - and we want this to look suitably sordid....Deborah...you are one hell of a girl...!"