TERRY

I called in at lunchtime when the place was quiet. The last thing I need now is to make it look like I am still meeting her in secret. But, the aftermath of the hockey match had led to a scene very close to a catfight. Gaia had calmed down but I wondered if Uma was more upset than she was letting on. Time to play the peacemaker.

"Hey, Tez...you been sent to pick up the plates like a good boy?"

"Huh?" She has a way of never asking me what I'm expecting. She must be the queen of lateral thinkers. God knows how her brain is wired.

"Your girlfriend left her dishes when she got a cob on her and walked....Let me just get them...they're in the back...I even washed them myself..." Uma had that edgy, belligerent mood on her. She would force you into an argument if you didn't choose your words very carefully.

So she was hurt then. She's like a wounded bear when she's licking at a cut. 

 I waved my hand about. "Just off to a meeting. I didn't call in for the plates...you okay?"

"Sure. Why wouldn't I be?"

I shrugged and took the beer she set down in front of me. "Just thought you might be a bit fragile after last night. Tempers were running high..."

She folded her arms and looked at me. "Yeah...they were, weren't they? I'm fine, Terry...but thanks for asking. Want a sandwich or anything?"

I shook my head and lit up. Time to step carefully. "It's just natural. She feels some sort of competition with you...in time she will see that she has nothing to worry about..."

"Fine, Terry. Let's put this one to bed, hey? The problem's hers not mine. She can bloody sort herself out..."

"You sure about that?"

Uma waved her finger at me. "Not gonna work, mate. I'm not talking. Give up."

Just then Andy blustered through, pulling a jumper over his naked chest. Christ, was I ever that thin and toned? "Throw us your keys, I want to take a look at your motor...it's turning over too fast... Terry...mate...your plates are in the back..." He gestured as if he was going to get them for me. I held up my hand.

"No...leave them...Gaia will be in for them...Thanks anyway...Look, about yesterday..."

Andy glanced at Uma. I was surprised by the look they exchanged. It was...full of some kind of knowledge I couldn't fathom. As if they were speaking without words.

"No worries, mate...don't give it another thought...well, I'll love you and leave you...gotta run." And he jogged through the bar to the car park as if he hadn't a care in the world. Maybe he doesn't. Lucky bastard. Must be great to be in your head, mate.

"He seems chirpy enough. Thought he might have had some objections to Gaia's little chat with him in the ladies...?" I began feeling her out.

"Terry....you want a refill? Or another cigarette? Please put something in your mouth to stop you talking so much. The topic is closed. I'm not upset. Neither is he. Just go to your meeting and get over it. Okay?"

I raised my eyebrows. She was not budging on this. Nor was she telling the truth. But there was only one person to whom she would open up now.

And it sure wasn't me.

"So...this meeting. Business?" Uma asked. How does she do that? Touch the very topic that I won't want to talk about?

I closed down. "Just a meeting."

"Top secret then. If I find out you'd have to kill me?" She giggled and helped herself to one of my cigarettes. I leaned over and lit it.

"Something like that..." I replied, faking a smile. Her eyes were dancing. Uma knows when I'm evading the issue. She still wasn't going to bloody find out though.

"Look, I'd better be going then...how much do I owe you?" I went for my wallet.

Uma smiled enigmatically. "Nothing. You owe me nothing, Terry. This one's on the house. This time..."

I got the message. She was not pursuing any vendetta. But she wouldn't roll over in future. Not her style at all.

And a wounded female is always twice as dangerous when her mate is threatened.

I was already late for my lunch meeting when I pulled up at the riverside restaurant. Running up the wooden stairs to the upper deck, I entered the chic bistro and gave the name of my host, François Dumas, to the maitre d'. He nodded and led me over.

"Terry! Ca fait une paie! Good to see you...qu'est-ce que tu bois?" Shaking hands, we settled down at our places.

"Une bière...just a glass..." I smiled politely over.

We ordered and made the usual small talk as we waited for our entrée. François Dumas was a contact from the old days, now a military attaché to the French embassy in London. But before that he had knocked about the world for the French Foreign Affairs and got to know almost everybody in diplomacy's small world. You can imagine that not much escaped his eyes. But he owed me a favour or two so I had decided it was time to call in a marker. It's the way we work. Scratching each other's backs.

"...Is this woman in some kind of trouble, Terry?" He tapped the dossier thoughtfully.

I smiled my professional smile. "No. Juste la routine..."

He gave me a knowing smirk back. "Personal, then. Un vrai canon, cette fille. I see you haven't lost your edge with the ladies, my friend?" He rested the dossier before me and indicated the photographs.

"A routine matter...nothing more than that..." I insisted again. He shrugged.

"Your business. She's clean. I'm sure of that. Mais il y a quelques connections qui pourraient se révéler problématiques...Read it. We can talk later if necessary."

I frowned. What did he mean? Troublesome links? I had an urge to read it there and then but lunch arrived so I had to spend the best part of the next hour pretending I was interested in his new country home in Provence. I got the full tour from the hand made tiles in the master bathroom down to the piping for the downstairs dunny...fascinating stuff...

Finally pleading a prior urgent engagement, I extricated myself when the proper courtesies had been fulfilled and drove back to the office where I told Rachel to hold my calls. I sat down to peruse the document with a strong feeling of apprehension already forming like a lump in my gut.

Bloody hell! I read the information through a few times, looked at the pictures and maps, made a few notes - and then threw the fucking folder across the room.

Christ - why the fuck hadn't she told me? What did she imagine I would say? Didn't she think I could help her? So much for trust, hey?

Maybe I was just chasing another pipedream here. Gaia doesn't even trust me enough to tell me the single most important thing that there is in her life. You would have thought it might have come up somewhere when we were having all those meaningful heart to hearts, wouldn't you? Or rather when I was spilling my guts and she was pouring on the sincerity. She just forgot to be sincere in the other direction.

"...Terry? I know you said you wanted to be left alone but...they're waiting for you in Conference One. Policy meeting? You didn't forget, did you?"

"Fuck!" I muttered under my breath. "I'll be there in five. Make sure there's a pot of strong coffee..."

"I already have, boss," she smirked as she slipped back out of the room. I stood, picked up the scattered contents of the folder and stowed them in my wall safe. Gathering up some relevant documents, I rushed out, noticing I had a voice message on my cell, retrieving it as I walked down the corridor.

"Ciao, Bello, stasera e una notte speciale all'insegna dell' Italia. ...Meaning, we have something special to celebrate tonight. You'd better remember what it is about, Terry!

Sneaked out from work early today to prepare this little Italian party at my apartment. Come to my place, let's say 7 o'clock? The 'spumante' is already cooling, the food is about to get prepared and I'm listening to Luciano Pavarotti's 'O sole mio'. So, if you want to spend a romantic evening, you know where to head..."

I stopped dead. This was all I needed now. Bloody hell...what's the occasion? Some kind of anniversary? Significant date? When's her birthday? Why do women do that? Okay, flowers, champagne and wing it. She's bound to say something that'll give me a clue...maybe pick up some jewellery to keep in reserve? Give it to her if the occasion warrants? Pretend I kept it back to tease her I'd forgotten...

I swung back the double doors and stormed in - by the look on the faces of the teams waiting for me, I must have looked as scary as fuck. Trying hard to fix a grin on my face that looked more like a grimace, I shook hands, sat down and asked Noel to fire away. And promptly stopped listening... If it's just some 'so many days since the first time we....' anniversary, I won't give it to her. Then tomorrow morning I'll leave it on the pillow....that'll give me some brownie points, keep me ahead of the game....

"...Excuse me..." I interrupted Noel in full flow and walked back out of the room, calling Rachel who came running down the corridor from her office. Must have been a bit sharp in my tone at the look on her face.

"Yes, Terry? Everything all right?"

I acted nonchalant. "Rachel! Do me a favour? Get me Tiffany's online. I need to choose something for someone....oh, and order flowers and a bottle of Dom Pérignon...then call the jeweller's and pick up whatever it is. I need this by six tonight......"

Rachel rolled her eyes and smiled patronisingly at me. I felt about six years old. I bloody hate it when women assume that Mother Superior look.

"Well, what you waiting for?" I barked back; she jumped and ran back off to do what I asked. I pulled out my cell and replied to Gaia. Maybe tonight was for the best. I could wait for a suitable juncture - by the time which we would both be well-fed and loose with wine and loving - and then maybe I could raise the topic in a way that might put her at her ease?

'Fino a sette...Ciao, bella....'. I tapped out my reply and then snapped the phone shut.

That should do the trick. 

Running a hand through my hair, straightening my tie and flexing my neck, I strode back in... 

GAIA

Today was supposed to be a special day for Terry and me. It's been exactly four months today that we were a couple...Four months since that evening when we passed from sex buddies to lovers. Four months since the moment I gave him my absolute and total trust. And the most wonderful thing about it? We were still both alive! Which was not granted when you think about it. Two strong minded and independent persons who decided to tempt fate and try to build a common relationship on foundations that were the least solid.

We both had our shares of disillusions. Yep. Rough times too. But now we both wanted stability in our lives. For different reasons. 

Terry? He had traveled the seven seas and wanted to settle down. I don't think he was the kind of man with a woman in each port. No. I think he's the kind of person who needs tenderness. A whole lot. And he took it wherever and whenever he could. But now that I know him better it seems to me that his heart is scattered all over the world to the women who counted in his life. A small piece for each of them. How many there were didn't matter to me. It was the past. And I've learned that you don't build anything strong on jealousy, bitterness and suspicion.

Since we came back from Australia, I had noticed something different in his eyes. Like a light that wasn't present before. Like a prayer. It was telling me 'Make me whole again'. That simple fact was enough to make me want to fight for him. Make all the necessary sacrifices to bring him what he needed.

Me? Well, I had been with several men in my adult life before Terry. Only three had counted in fact. The first one had opened me to the wonderful world of sex during a cultural journey in Tuscany. The second had made me discover the happiness of loving and being loved in return. The third one destroyed everything I once was. Four years had been necessary to rebuild myself. Piece by piece. Tear after tear. Until one fine day I was finally able to see myself in a mirror again without bursting into tears. Looking back, I now know that it wasn't me I had been seeing. It was the shame and culpability that this man had successfully poured into my soul until it had rooted.

See? Two different courses with only one goal. Feel whole again with the help of the other.

But, don't misinterpret stability with domesticity. Neither of us had dared talk about living together. To share an apartment ("his" in a matter of fact because mine was not much bigger than a sardine tin) was a huge step that we were not ready to make. Imagine Terry's face when I unpacked the more than 150 pieces of my dolphins' collection?  "I thought that your fireplace mantle would be a great place to display them..."C'mon. He'd either have a stroke or strangle me. Definitely not. And some important issues still hadn't been raised yet...

So sitting at my desk, this "anniversary" sounded just like a perfect idea to celebrate that small miracle as it should. I only needed some time off to pay a visit to my favorite Italian caterer who always has the most delicious idea to spoil her clients' guests.

Looking at my watch, I frowned. It was almost 2 pm and Terry still hadn't called me. Which was unusual. Several weeks ago, he had started to call me during lunch time to chat about the morning we had or the plans we had for the evening. If I was eating with some colleagues then the game was on: Terry had one minute to talk dirty to me while I had to pursue an innocuous conversation as if speaking to a client. Without raising my colleagues' suspicion about the explicit words that were dropped into my ear. Of course. A game Terry was a master at, I have to admit.

Nicolas had understood our little game a week before. Don't ask how he got to know. It must have been the slight color of my cheeks or my shallow breaths that gave me in. Anyway, at that moment, Terry was telling me in crude words how he wished I was in his office. Well, his words were more about me being on my knees while him sitting in his chair, my head down between his legs...you get my drift.

Just before we finished our little "conversation", and to my greatest shock, Nicolas who was sitting beside me, leaned and whispered "Toutes mes salutations à Terry!" with a mischievous smile.

Sainte-Marie Mère de Dieu! I wished that I was swallowed up by a hole in the ground this very instant. But Nicolas put me at ease instantly. His hand reached for my arm and he patted it affectionately "Ne t'en fais pas, je serai muet comme une tombe...bon dieu, vous faites vraiment une sacrée paire tous les deux!" I've never paid much attention about what people thought about me. But you can't prevent me from feeling a little bit awkward that my boss thinks I have a depraved sex life!

Still no news from Terry. What the hell was he doing? Maybe he was stuck in one of these endless meetings from which you go out with the brain in compote and the urgent desire to shout at anyone who just looks at you the wrong way... Yes, that was certainly the explanation...

Some files on my desk were still waiting for my approval but I decided to tempt fate with Nicolas. You never know, it could be my lucky day! When I found him, he was just back from a meeting with the big boss and seemed in a very good mood, a steamy coffee in his hand, joking with his secretary... So this WAS my lucky day indeed. The last monthly figures had been better than expected and Nicolas must have received some kind of congratulations for his excellent work. Which had to be shared with all his team...that goes without saying. But you know bosses...it's "I did great" but "They screwed up". In less time you need to say "spaghetti", Nicolas gave me the green light for leaving early. The reason why he agreed so quickly, I suspect is that he was quite relieved that I only asked for some time off instead of a brand new cellular gadget or even worse...a raise.

"Italia Gastronomia" was a small caterer a few streets from my home. Sandra, the owner and my friend also, was from Parma, a region well-known for its particularly diversified cooking and its beauty. Her motto was: "Chi mangia bene, mangia Italiano!" (Who eat well, eats Italian). As soon as you pushed the door you would find yourself in the middle of Italy. First the smell. It was something so wonderful. If I closed my eyes I could imagine myself in a mama's kitchen in the middle of the Peninsula. Pans all around, dinner boiling on an old oven for a whole family that would be served in the yard under a fig tree by a calm summertime evening. Humm, don't get me started here!

Then, the view. It was a treat by itself too. All kind of salamis, cooked hams and bouquet of fresh herbs were hanging from the ceiling. Pastas, wines, vinegars, olive oils, coffees and sweets were displayed in a convivial manner.

Finally, the take away zone would knock you out. Plates full of seafood, sauces, pastas, antipasti, vegetables kept in olive oil and desserts. But most of all your eyes would be drawn to the season's dishes that Sandra would prepare herself with only the freshest ingredients from the market and some direct import from Italy. Depending of the moment of the year, you could find asparagus rollups, artichokes in gratin, chicken with a tasty lemon flavored sauce called "alla Scarpariello", risottos, pizzas, foccacias, fresh pasta...the list is never ending. We would talk about Italy for hours. The places we had been, the food we had eaten, the wines we had tasted, the people we knew. The funny thing that always made me happy no end was that after my visits to Sandra's I would catch myself "talking" with my hands again. Italians don't hold their body language like we do. They emphasize each word or expression with a grand gesture. I know it sounds crazy, but it felt so good. It felt like home.

Back at my apartment, I left a message on Terry's cell phone inviting him for a romantic evening to celebrate our anniversary. Would Terry remember why this evening was special? I doubted it. Only women could imagine celebrating a four months' anniversary... What a great joy to tease him during the course of the evening and watch him act nonchalantly as if knowing perfectly what it was all about. What kind of tactic would he adopt to make me name the occasion? All I knew is that he would never ask me bluntly. He was too much of a gentleman. Or maybe it was just because he wouldn't want to sadden me and then have to deal with my possible anger...you never know. The real question was: how long would I prevent myself from laughing at his embarrassment? Not long, I feared...

I got everything ready for the meal while listening to Mozart's "Nozze di Figaro". Put the black olives in a small bowl for him to eat them while dressing the plates, grated the lemon and the Parmigiano cheese, chopped the artichoke hearts, sliced the smoked salmon and washed the salad. The only concession to this "home made meal" was the dessert. The tiramisu. But the fact that I had to let it rest for more than several hours in the fridge before being able to eat it was such a torture I simply couldn't stand. So I usually bought it only a few minutes before the meal...if I ever wanted my guests to have some luscious mascarpone/coffee cream dripping dessert at the end of their meal, I mean...

Heading for the shower I was cut short by the ring of my home phone. 

"Gaia speaking" I said while removing my shoes and turning to my skirt zipper.

"Salut Gaia, c'est Stéphanie." 

Stéphanie! My long time friend. She was the personal attaché of the French ambassador in Italy. A very skilled and intelligent person whose culture was always stunning me. In her mid fifties now, she had dedicated her life to work, spending her energy to support her boss and promoting France in the Peninsula.

During my long stay in Rome, she had dragged me all around the Eternal City to a tremendous lot of concerts, theatre plays, exhibitions that her responsibilities were making her attending. Je fais ton éducation culturelle, si je ne m'en charge pas...qui le fera ? She used to tell me. Most of all, she had made me discover some Roman secret places only known by residents. We would reach those places by foot or taxi and she would spend long moments describing to me the special events which took place or the famous people who made what Rome as we know now, her voice filled with pure passion. As a reward we would end in a local gelateria and eat until none of us could take any more.

We had never lost contact with each other after my departure. Even if we were both aware that we wouldn't be able to see each other again. I had never wanted to travel back to Rome not after what I had lived. It is there, in this wonderful, sumptuous and romantic city that I had met my former husband. Yasim. Where we had lived happily (and naively for me, I might add) for more than 5 years before my life turned into a nightmare. No, I couldn't go back. Ever. She wouldn't leave her job to visit London, even for a couple of days. She would send me personal invitations to big gatherings she was organizing for the embassy in the secret hope I would attend to them. Me? I would regularly email her some news and pictures of my new life or call her when something funny happened to me. We both loved so much to laugh at own expense.

<< Stéphanie! Comment ça va? Ecoute, cela me fait vraiment plaisir de t'entendre mais je suis assez pressée à vrai dire. Est-ce que je peux te rappeler...demain par exemple?

<< Ce que j'ai à te dire ne sera pas long. J'en ai juste pour une minute >> She added quickly.

It was the first time I could hear concern in Stéphanie's voice for a long time. What could possibly bother a person like her? She was the kind of woman who had dealt with major diplomatic crises in her life and was well-known to always keep her calm when everyone around was running like lunatics. I leaned against the console waiting for her to tell me the reason of her call.

Their secretariat had treated an information request about me two days ago. She had found it very strange that a man like François Dumas had wanted this information. François Dumas? Now my interest was piqued. I had met him once in Italy through my father who had introduced us. Only a vague memory of the man lingered inside my brain. Mid everything: mid height, mid weight, mid-forties. And that was pretty all I remember of him.

She asked me if I had applied to a more "sensitive" job by any chance. "Of course not!" I answered. Nicolas was sometimes driving me crazy but he had his nice moments too. I was quite independent and had a quite decent salary. What more could I ask for? Furthermore, I would have told her about my plans. "That's what I thought," she said enigmatically.

After a few long seconds, she dropped the bomb. "Ever heard of a company called Paul? It's mentioned on the form. A few months ago, a new line had been added on the information request forms. A sine qua non condition to have the dossier treated...you have to mention the company name for which you make the demand..."

"Paul? No. Never heard of it." 

"Not "Paul" with a "P". TOL with a "T" like Thérèse."

Every single particle inside my body froze. It only took a nanosecond.

TOL, Terry. Terry. Had. Run. A. Check. On. Me. He knows everything. He knows now. He knows everything now. It was the only coherent thought that my mind could hang on to. A thunder of emotions, tormenting me, hurting me, scratching me rolled over me. I felt like a sand grain in the middle of a storm. I felt like falling from a cliff. I felt like a piece of wood in the middle of a typhoon. The panic hit me and I found myself on the floor, shaking from shock, gripping the phone so strongly that my knuckles were turning white.

"You never told Terry about Yasim, n'est-ce pas?" The only whisper of his name inside my brain could make me lose my sanity for good. How could have I talked about Yasim to anyone? Especially to Terry? As the wonderful and attached-to-justice man he is, I feared that he never could understand the reasons that were keeping me from asking for justice. That by leaving Algiers, I had implicitly accepted my conditions of the guilty wife. Abandoned all my right to my ex-husband's profit. The battle was lost, why would I want to twist the knife a little more?

Stéphanie was the only bridge from my previous life in Italy to my new life in London.  The only living connection to the Gaia I once was. During one of our open-hearted conversation late at night, when the barriers had fallen, it had hurt me deeply to hear her telling me how much she missed the old Gaia. The Gaia with her soft illusions, soothing naiveté and natural freshness. "She is dead," I sadly told her. "No" she had added "One day, you'll see, she'll bloom again. I've faith in life. I've faith in you. Have faith too." We had both wept hoping that this day would come soon. Sometimes I also missed that old Gaia too...

An invisible hand was constricting my throat. No sound could come out. I couldn't even breathe.

Stéphanie's voice seemed so far away as she went on: "Gaia, a situation is never as desperate as it first seems. You can't hide from your past anymore. Don't you see? Maybe it's the perfect moment to sort your life. To stop hiding behind this façade you carefully built around yourself. With Terry's help, you can make it. He looks like a sensible man. Talk to him. He'll understand. The sooner you accept it, the best it will be. For both of you. He deserves to know the whole story. He only got dates and facts on a sheet. Take the risk. Gaia. Tell him about Algiers, tell him about your...  "

It clicked inside my brain like a lightning.

"No!" I shouted. The cry came out from nowhere, so loud that my ears rang.

"Gaia!" She pleaded, "You won't even let me speak about Luca. Don't be too hard on yourself. Whatever you blame yourself for, don't lose from sight that Yasim forced you to..."

My darkest side was about to surface. My blood was starting to boil like a river of fire inside me as my wicked brain was already locking on a new target. A new target called Terry...instead of the most obvious one: me and my inability to manage the big mess I had put myself into. By omitting to tell the man I loved so deeply about the terrible experience that had branded my life, I had now to face more terrible consequences.

"We are not talking about Yasim here, Stéphanie...but about TERRY! He didn't have the right to DO THIS to ME! HE SHOULD'VE ASKED ME FIRST!!!" I yelled at her.

That wasn't fair of me. Stéphanie was my long time friend and she had called to warn me and try to help me on this. To help me save the love that Terry and I shared. To help me get over what happened with Yasim. Once and for all. Or to simply save my life. But, you know, it's always easier to blame someone else than really accept that you're the one who was screwing up at the moment.

"You're either too blind or too dumb to accept the truth, Gaia...Even if he had put a gun on your temple you would never have told him that you had been married or most importantly that you have a son! Stop acting like Daddy's little girl and grow up. Call me back when you found the little piece of sense left in that big empty box up your skull that is called "brain."

With that she hung up and left me stunned and crushed with grief.

Next thing, the beeping receiver flew across the room. Fortunately for me, it was a wireless phone. If not, I would be missing a few teeth right now. Am I not wise?

Well, what else to say that the phone scattered into a million pieces and left a permanent black notch in the wooden door of my room? Nothing much. And then light came down on me. There was a rather evident parallel between the phone's state and my future with Terry. Both were fucked.

So what did this tough and hardened woman do at that crucial juncture? She wept like a child and then tried to regain some composure before her lover's arrival.

She entirely put the blame on him. 

TERRY

On the dot. As always. Hit the bell and waited, wine and flowers in hand, gift in my pocket and my knee jerking slightly in that internal rhythm that is the dead giveaway to show my anxiety even when everything else about me seems rock still.

I knew when she opened the door. No idea how she found out. She must have some connections even I'm not aware of. 

"This where I say, 'Hi honey, I'm home!'?" I tried for glib self-confidence, smiling anyway, reaching in for a kiss that barely brushed the cheek as she pulled away and followed her into the apartment. Time for straight talking. "What's up?" I gave her an opener, setting down the flowers and champagne on a side table. "Something happened? Gaia...you okay?"

I got an angry glare. But she was trying to keep her cool. Her eyes were red and swollen; she'd been crying. I breathed out slowly. Then she lost it.

"HOW COULD YOU? HOW COULD YOU POSSIBLY DO THIS TO ME? MR 'LET'S-TRUST-EACH-OTHER-COMPLETELY'? Oh boy, you can really be proud of yourself... what a fool I've been!!!!" I got it both barrels then. And when she wants to, Gaia can raise the roof.

Holding my hands up, I advanced slowly - she backed away in step until she reached the wall behind her. "I can explain...Gaia, it's standard procedure...for your own safety..." She bridled at that, tossing her head wilfully. Some self destruct button in me made me twist the knife in even further; I knew it was unwise even as I said it. "...and if we're talking about honesty, love, you've not been entirely honest with me yourself now, have you...?"

That's when she really blew, as I should have known she would. "You mean it's a 'standard procedure' to run a check on your girl friend? I'm not a terrorist waiting to bomb your bed, ya know! In what world are you living in, Terry? For my own safety? How lame of you to try to turn that into something noble! You bastard! You did this behind my back...where is the trust you so wanted us to share?"

Her comment hit my mark too. She was right. Why could I not have really taken that step and trusted another human being just because my instinct told me that this time I had found the real thing? What doubt still gnawed at me that when things are so good then there has to be a catch? But, as ever, the closer she got with her darts, the faster I ricocheted them back. "I think you just missed what I said..." I was not proud of the cold note that had entered my voice. "...You won't put me off my stride that easily, baby...you want to lay your cards on the table now as well? So lay them down, chérie ...Let's talk trust, shall we?"

Gaia looked on me with an almost pitying expression, her wild temper of moments ago subsiding into a more steely rage. "What could I possibly tell you that you don't already know after you contacted the 'Département des Affaires Etrangères'? Hum? They even must have given you my knicker size! Did I sin by omission? Is it what you wanna hear? The answer is YES! I did not tell you everything. But I never lied to you. Ever...Can you say the same to me, Terrence Thorne?"

I avoided her gaze at that. Lied to her? I'm not sure anymore. My truth is so selective that I sometimes wonder if I have the ability even to grasp the concept of simple truth anymore.

This was the moment when any skilled negotiator would sit down and change the tactics, open up and give enough away to make the other feel their worst suspicions were unfounded. This is when you have the opportunity to make your first real move; your opposite is actually giving you a chance to win their trust.

So what did this professional negotiator do at that crucial juncture?

He walked out, slamming the door forcefully behind him.

And heard a hundred doors from his past echoing back down the years as he made the same damn mistake again.

GAIA

He walked out. And that was it. The end of my world. The end of the world. One second I was happy, carefree with my deepest needs fulfilled. The next one, 'poufff', everything had vanished. Isn't it funny how we live our lives, so sure of being invincible and eternal? So sure that we are special, intelligent or above all the crap that lays around us! How presumptuous can we be! So conceited. So naïve.

And then the magic cloud in which we were so carefully wrapped would finally disappear. Leaving us empty, nude and totally vulnerable. Like a crab without a shell, like a warrior without an armour, like a newborn without a Mom. Just like that. Such a common feeling. So terrible. So human.

When Terry slammed the door I jumped, woken up from my reverie. Standing in the middle of my apartment. Lost. One day I had been found...it was over now.

A black veil came down upon my soul. Enveloping me with cold and despair. I shivered. Safe...I had to feel safe. Had to hide. To protect myself. And there was now only one place where this warm feeling could save me...One place left.

I dizzily walked to my bedroom, grabbed a blanket and my pillow. Crouching, I lifted the side of the quilt covering my bed and crawled. Pushed the shoe boxes with my feet and made myself a tiny nest. Curled in a foetal position, I was hidden. Nothing could reach me. I just had to let the time go by. I would heal. Eventually. With time, I could. I always could.

TERRY

It wasn't the best few days of my life. I knew that I had fucked up big time. I shouldn't have checked her out before simply asking her a few questions outright. I shouldn't have gone into defensive mode and slugged her back as soon as she voiced her opinion. But most of all I should not have walked out. If I'd been in her shoes, I would have reacted as she did. She had the right to be angry. I did not have the right to behave as if her feelings must always take second place to my career.

I might be an arrogant bastard but I do know when apologies are in order. Eventually, that is. It took me the best part of a week to talk myself round to making the first approach, after I had picked up and put down the phone a hundred times and even once or twice hung around outside her office contemplating intercepting her when she left work. Okay, so Steve isn't the only man in the world to chicken out - we all do it.

It was first thing in the morning when I finally reached her apartment, determined this time that we would have a mature and rational conversation. I do this sort of thing for a living, remember? Calm and logical, reasonable and clear; put the facts on the table and take responsibility for where I made an error of judgment and then do what I can to prove that she no longer needs be concerned about issues like trust and honesty.

As I entered the front door of the old house where she rents a small apartment, I bumped into her struggling with a large suitcase.

"Gaia!"

She paled. "Terry...qu'est-ce que...?" her voice trailed off.

I took the handle of the case; she tried to hold on but then let me have it and gave one of those dramatic 'Pouff!' noises she makes, throwing her hands up."I thought we might talk..."

"Vraiment? Is there anything to say? Anyway, I am catching a plane. The trip, you know? To Taos?"

I frowned and then remembered some talk about a spa for the ladies. I nodded. "Sure...let me give you a ride to the airport?"

"Pas la peine, I have a cab waiting." As we went back out into the early morning sunshine, I saw the cab. Heaving the case into the trunk, I held the door while she got in - and then slipped in next to her. "Where do you think you are going?" she asked in annoyance.

I leaned forward to the driver. "Airport, step on it..." and shut the window between us, sealing us into the black cab.

Gaia sat back, folded her arms and stared out of the opposite window. 

"Come on..." I began. "Don't start that..."

"Start what?" She turned her head and glared at me.

I shrugged. "I am trying to create an environment where we can have a sensible conversation like two adults. We have both said and done things we should not have. Let's talk about it honestly..."

"So, you are accusing me of childish behaviour?"

"No...they are your words not mine..."

"...If we are not adults then we must be children. You apparently think you are being the mature one, so I must presume..."

"...Shut up, Gaia. Stop nit picking. Let's talk," I'm sure you are all impressed at my eloquent negotiation style. The ultimate in diplomacy...not.

As anyone knows who has ever tried to mediate in anything, we were off to the worst possible beginning. I had made her feel patronised. She had closed down on me. I took a deep breath and tried again. This time, swallow the blame, Terry.

"It was my fault for being so covert in a matter that should have been handled with more discretion and honesty," I stated rationally.

"Is this 'definitive action report Terry', 'father confessor Terry' ou juste 'I know bloody everything so you better just shut up and listen Terry'...?"

I gritted my teeth. "I am trying to open a dialogue here..."

"Open a dialogue? What am I, an errant nation at a UN summit? Pour l'amour du ciel, Terry! Can't you talk like a person or must you always sound like a military interrogation manual...?"

That woman can push my buttons better than anyone I have ever met. "Fine...let me put it another way then...!" I shouted back "...I fucked up. In doing so, I found out that you had not told me anything really about yourself, omitting to share with me a rather central facet of your life. I felt like you didn't trust me. I felt like I had poured out my heart to you and you had not reciprocated. I felt like most women make me feel. Like my purpose in their lives is to wine them, dine them, give them multiple orgasms, take care of business, buy expensive gifts, make them feel loved... and theirs is just to take it and never give me any fucking thing back. Like trust. Like love. Like sharing. I'm not a fucking lovebot, Gaia. I have feelings, too. Occasionally, I get hurt and bleed. So pardon-fucking-me if I reacted with a bit of a knee jerk this time instead of with understanding and forgiveness...."

"...THIS IS ABOUT YOU SPYING ON ME! TRUST, LOVE AND SHARING? Ca te dit quelque chose?"

"You are missing the point..."

"Of course, the fault must be mine...The wise, the mighty Terrence Thorne could never miss the point, eh?"

"That is not what I meant..."

"It is what you said..."

"No, it isn't"

"You should listen to yourself sometimes..."

"I would love to. It would beat listening to your shitty female logic..."

I won't go into the rest. It nose dived even further downhill then into the usual gender insults and irrelevant mudslinging. By the time we reached Heathrow we were sitting in silence, body language screaming out, arms folded and both staring out of opposite windows.

She jumped out as soon as the taxi stopped. I followed to help her with her bag. This time she yanked it from me. "Je peux le faire! I always could!"

I ran my hand back through my hair. "This is not how I meant it to be, Gaia...please...I..."

She waved her hand as if to say "Just go!" I realised that she was so close to tears that f I hung around much more she would begin to cry and that would have killed her. She did not want me to see her vulnerability. Not anymore.

I backed away, pulling a trolley for her so she could load her case. "Enjoy your trip. Maybe that's what we need. Some space?"

"Space? Laisse moi rire! I'm not sure Mars would be far enough at the moment..."

I watched her go, seeing my world crumbling before me. Why had I not simply said, 'I love you? I think we should try and get over this. I think you love me, too. Let's start again...'?

But it isn't how I talk. I swallow it down and go for smooth and rational automaton man over spontaneous passionate lover. It's okay...walk away... I'm a big boy...Raising my eyes to that God who must dine out on my fucked up attempts at love, I turned my back, stiffened my shoulders and hailed another cab.

"The nearest bar, mate. And step on it."