Joe tugs at his beard. ‘You really think I might know her?’
I shrug. ‘Probably not. Maybe you’re right — she could have been delayed.’
‘Sure.’ Joe beams encouragingly. ‘She’ll most likely ring any minute now and clear things up. We’ll be laughing about this by the end of the night.’
‘Yes,’ I say, not believing it for a second.
I down more rum than I should. Joe looks on worriedly and suggests it might be for the best if we drink up and leave. My nasty streak coming to the fore, as it sometimes does when I drink too much, I sneer at his worries and tell him to lighten up. I urge him to take off his stifling shirt. When that suggestion upsets him – maybe he thinks I want to mock his scars – I make a bullying grab for the top buttons. He loses patience and storms out, saying I can follow if I want, or stay and rot.
‘Fuck him,’ I growl, tossing back another shot of rum. Then I forget about Joe. Andeanna’s treachery consumes my thoughts. I’ve started thinking of things I could do to hurt her – maybe call Mikis and drop a few hints about his wife’s indiscretions – when I spot a girl staring at me. ‘Help you?’ I snap.
She turns away and says something to the two girls with her. All three glance at me, giggle and return to their drinks. I keep watch on the one who first caught my eye. She doesn’t look more than eighteen or nineteen, dark blond hair, lots of make-up. She has nothing in common with Andeanna except her gender, but I convince myself otherwise and pretend she’s my beloved’s spitting image.
I wait until one of the trio heads for the toilet, then slide over and take her seat. As the others start to object, I raise my hands, smooth as silk now that I’m half-steamed. ‘It’s OK, ladies, I’m not stopping, I’d just like to apologize for my rudeness earlier.’ I smile broadly, and the pretty young blonde smiles back.
‘Are you American?’ she asks.
‘Yes.’
‘New York?’
‘No, but I know the city well.’
‘I have a brother in New York,’ she informs me. ‘I’m going over for a visit next month.’
Her friend returns and I swiftly vacate her seat. ‘Would any of you care for a drink?’ I ask. They all place an order and I shuffle off to the bar. Handing out the cocktails when I get back, I murmur as sexily as I can, ‘My name’s Ed. Could I have yours?’
After checking with her friends, who give her the nod to show they think it’s OK to speak with the tall American, the blonde tells me her name is Louise Maloret and she’s from Kent but is currently living in Roehampton, studying to be a teacher. The address rings a bell and I recall John Meyher. Excited by the coincidence, I tell her I was out her way recently. When she asks why, I let her have it. ‘Research. I’m a writer. Ed Sieveking. You may have heard of me?’ I don’t grow discouraged when she says that she hasn’t. Instead I say I’m big in the States. ‘Your brother’s probably read my books.’
A fourth chair soon materializes – nothing’s too much for a famous American author! – and it isn’t long before I’m spinning yarns that would make Pinocchio blush. Stephen King? Sure I know him. Have they read his latest novel? They haven’t? Oh, they should. I’m mentioned in it. ‘A character’s reading one of my books,’ I chuckle modestly. ‘I’ll have to return the favour, keep Steve happy.’
They’re more interested in movie stars than writers. I tell them that two of my books are being adapted, and of course then I have to name all the actors who’ve been linked with the imaginary films.
The girls drag me to a nightclub when the pub closes. After a couple of painful numbers on the dance floor, I hurry to the toilet and throw up. I feel better after that, and better still when someone in the next cubicle offers me some Charlie at a good price. I don’t normally do drugs, but the spirit of the night takes me, and by the time I track down Louise, I’m wide-eyed and jerking convulsively to the beat. This time, when we get on the dance floor, there’s no stopping me. I hold Louise captive for most of the night, a true party animal.
Later on I find myself locking lips with the girl in a niche near the cloakroom. I don’t know how we got here — the last hour or so is a blank. Between kisses I suggest we slip back to the Royal Munster. After some hesitation – she doesn’t want me thinking she’s easy – she agrees, but first goes to tell her friends where I’m taking her. I start to feel guilty while I’m waiting for her to return, thinking about Andeanna. Another shot of rum helps drive the guilt away.
In my room I throw Louise on to the bed and practically rip off her clothes. She stops me as I’m pulling down my trousers, panting like a horny dog. ‘Hold on a sec.’ Rising, she empties the contents of her purse and finds a cache of condoms. Tearing one open, she tells me to put it on.
‘Anything to please,’ I mumble, sliding it over my erection.
‘You speak funny,’ she laughs, then turns off the light.
Sex is swift. As I thrust blindly into her, I moan, ‘Andeanna!’ Louise overlooks the slip and yells my name out loud. I clutch her tightly and grind into her, lips pulled back over my teeth, sweating like crazy from the mix of sex, drink and cocaine. It isn’t long before I climax with a groaning shudder, porn-star style. Louise lets rip with a considerate fake groan.
In the aftermath she peels off the condom and wraps it up neatly in a tissue. ‘You’d better keep this,’ she says. ‘Safer that way.’
‘What do you mean?’ I pant, needing a glass of water but not trusting my legs to support me if I get up.
‘You’re a famous writer,’ she giggles. ‘I could slip in some seed and hit you with a paternity suit.’
‘Christ! Is that what they teach you in university these days?’
‘No. It’s what my mum taught me.’
We fall asleep chuckling.
Louise is already up when I wake with a hangover that isn’t as bad as I thought it would be. She bounces around in the buff, examining the hotel room. She tells me about her digs, the students she shares with, the awful state of the kitchen, their landlord from hell. Typical student troubles.
After breakfast we shower, dress, swap numbers and kiss goodbye. Louise says I don’t have to call her if I don’t want to. I say that I will but I don’t mean it. By her relieved smirk, I know she knows it’s a lie, so I don’t feel guilty.
I also don’t feel guilty for what I’ve done. I should – I’ve betrayed the woman I pledged my heart to – but I don’t. Thinking about that after Louise has left, and the normal night of fun we shared, I realize it’s because life with Andeanna is so abnormal. Why should I feel guilty for cheating on a married woman who can offer me nothing but kisses?
I love Andeanna, and I think she could love me if the circumstances were different, but right now we aren’t a good match. She’s trapped and I can’t help her break out of the prison of the Turk’s making. One of us needs to stand up big and break this off before we destroy ourselves.
I’m going home to Montana.
Joe’s face drops when I tell him I’m quitting London. ‘What about the book?’ he splutters.
I shrug. ‘I’ll work on it from home. I’ll keep in touch with you. It shouldn’t make much of a difference now that we’ve put in most of the legwork. I can work better in Montana. Fewer distractions.’
‘You mean Andeanna,’ he says quietly. ‘Is she the reason you’re going back?’
I see no point in lying. ‘Yes.’
‘Have you told her?’ he asks.
I shake my head.
‘Are you going to?’
‘I don’t know,’ I sigh. ‘I’d like to see her one last time, but I haven’t been able to contact her. I’m booked to fly out early tomorrow, so it –’
‘Tomorrow! Why so soon? Jesus, Ed, I know you’ve been unhappy, but running away like this . . . Are you sure it’s a good idea?’
‘I’d have gone today except I wanted to talk with you first and clear the air. I acted like a dick the other night.’
‘Forget it. We all do stupid th
ings when we’re drunk.’ Joe sits back and looks around at the cases I’ve packed, one for my clothes, two for the notes, maps and research material. ‘You’re really going,’ he says glumly.
‘Afraid so.’
He sighs. ‘I’m not too surprised. I sensed things weren’t working between you and Andeanna.’ He thinks for a minute, then says, ‘I could go see her if you want, take a message, give her your address.’
‘Why bother?’ I scowl.
‘It isn’t nice to slip away without saying farewell. Besides, I’d like to meet this beauty you’ve been bragging about.’
I squint suspiciously. ‘You’re not thinking of making a move on her when I’m out of the way, are you?’
‘Certainly not!’ he howls. ‘Ed, how can you even think such a –’
‘Joking,’ I smile.
‘That wasn’t funny,’ he sniffs.
‘Sure it was,’ I chuckle, then shake my head fondly. I’ll miss Joe. My smile fades. Maybe as much as I’ll miss Andeanna.
I almost don’t phone her. As day turns to night, I argue the decision with myself. She’s the one who broke our appointment. If she cared, she’d call. But what if I’ve misjudged her? Maybe she did have an accident. What if she’s been in a crash or a fire or . . .
Eventually, knowing I won’t be able to rest easy if I don’t attempt to make contact, I try her cell phone again. This time it rings. I disconnect before she can answer. I’m shaking. What will I say? Should I be cruel or compassionate? I’m not experienced in scenes of this nature. Finally I hit redial and let the conversation take its own course.
‘Hello?’ Her voice is low, trembling, pained.
‘It’s me.’
A long silence. ‘I didn’t think you were going to call.’ She sounds like she’s been crying.
‘I almost didn’t. I’m leaving tomorrow, going home to Montana.’
‘Oh,’ she says emotionlessly.
‘Is that all you can say?’ I snap.
She sighs. ‘I’m tired, Ed.’
‘What sort of an answer is that? For Christ’s sake, I’m leaving! You’ll never see me again, and all you can say –’
There’s a click. Staring at the phone, I realize she’s cut me off. My initial reaction is to hurl it away and let her go hang. Then I consider the way she spoke, the tremble in her voice. Something’s wrong. Redialling, I walk to the window and gaze out at the quiet road, letting the calm of the external world wash through me. ‘I’m sorry,’ I mutter when she answers. ‘I didn’t mean to get angry. I’m upset. Not thinking straight.’
‘That makes two of us,’ she half laughs, then chokes back a sob. ‘Are you really leaving?’
‘Unless you can convince me to stay.’
‘I don’t want you to go,’ she says in a monotone. ‘But as for convincing you . . . ’ I sense her shrugging. ‘I can’t think of anything to say that would keep you.’
‘Why did you stand me up?’
‘It’s a long story.’
‘Has it got something to do with Joe?’
‘Joe?’ She sounds confused.
‘You’re avoiding him. Every time I set up a meeting, you . . . ’
Sardonic laughter cuts me short. ‘It has nothing to do with Joe,’ she sneers. ‘Your friend was the last thing on my mind.’
‘So why didn’t you show?’
She pauses, then whispers, ‘I love you.’ That’s followed by tears. ‘I have to hang up now.’
‘Andeanna! No!’
‘Goodbye, Ed. I’ll read your new book when it comes out. I’m sure it will be –’
‘I’m coming to see you.’
‘No!’ she gasps. ‘You mustn’t, it isn’t safe.’
‘I don’t care. I’m coming.’
‘I won’t let you in. I’ll keep the gate locked. I’ll summon Mikis.’
‘That won’t stop me. I’m not leaving until I find out what happened. If I have to go through the Turk to get to you, I will.’
She moans, then sniffles. ‘You’re being a damn fool, but OK, come if you must. Wait until you see the gate open and a car leaving. Axel’s on duty tonight. I think I can persuade him to pop out, like when you came before. But if he won’t go – if you don’t see a car pulling out – promise me you won’t come in.’
‘I can’t. I’ve got to see you.’
‘If you don’t promise, I’ll be gone when you get here.’
I rest the phone against my forehead, then lower it and answer in as controlled a tone as possible, ‘OK. I promise.’
‘If you break your word, it’s over between us.’
‘You know me better than that.’
‘Yes. I do. See you soon. I hope.’
I park fifty yards from the turn-off to the mansion. It’s a clear night. I can’t fail to spot any exiting vehicles from here. Switching off the lights and crouching low, I keep vigil.
An hour passes. Two. Three. Patience has always been one of my virtues. I’ve sometimes spent a week shadowing people, sitting quietly in hotel rooms or cars, watching, waiting. I was never nervous then, but I am now. My hands are shaking.
Finally, close to one in the morning, the gates open and a car emerges. I throw myself sideways before the driver completes his turn. He passes by moments later, picking up speed, engine loud in the still of the night. I give it half a minute, then sit up and make the call.
‘Ed?’ Andeanna answers on the first ring, breathless.
‘A car just passed. Axel?’
‘Yes. He should be gone twenty, maybe thirty minutes.’
‘Have you turned off the CCTV?’
‘No. I’ll delete the footage from the hard drive later. There isn’t time to go fiddling with it now.’
I don’t like the sound of that, but I have to trust her.
‘You want me to drive in or walk?’ I ask.
‘Drive and park round back.’
‘What about getting out again?’
‘I’ve spent the last few hours in the music room, listening to classical records. You can hide when Axel returns. I’ll take him in there. He won’t hear you leave.’
Again, I don’t like it. I think it would be less risky if I left the car where it is, but I don’t want to start an argument, in case she changes her mind and forbids me entry. So I go with her call and hope she knows what she’s doing.
The gates are opening again when I reach them. I glide through, take a sharp left at the end of the driveway, then a right around the building. Once I’m parked in the shadows, I leave the keys in the ignition and look for Andeanna. She isn’t here, but one of the doors is open.
I enter a huge, cool pantry. I expected Andeanna to meet me, but she’s nowhere to be seen. I pad cautiously through the pantry and kitchen, not turning on any lights, finding my way through the darkness by touch. When I reach the door to the main hall, which is brightly lit, I take stock of the situation.
This feels wrong. Why hasn’t Andeanna come to greet me? For all I know, the Turk is lying in wait beyond this door, about to spring a trap. One more step could be my last. It’s not too late to retreat. Unless guards have closed in behind me, the route is clear. I could crash through the gates, hit the road at full speed and slow for nothing. To push ahead is suicidal.
My ghosts sense my uncertainty and press close around me, making spitting gestures, shrieking silently, doing their best to unnerve me and force me back.
Thinking of Andeanna and the fear in her voice, I ignore the ghosts, turn a deaf ear to reason and advance.
The hall is clear. No Mikis Menderes. No Bond Gardiner. No armed guards. Just emptiness and silence.
‘Andeanna?’ Her name echoes back. I move to the foot of the stairs, determined to go no further unless she returns my call. ‘Andeanna?’ When she doesn’t answer, I start up, ignoring my vow to myself. The ghosts dart around me, doing their best to freak me out. They’re loving this, more animated than they’ve been in a long time.
There are footsteps behind me.
I turn quickly, hand reaching for a gun which isn’t there, then relax when I spot Andeanna emerging out of the gloom of a dining room.
‘Sorry,’ she says, stopping in the doorway, hands crossed nervously over her abdomen. ‘I was watching for Axel, afraid he might forget something and return.’
‘You startled me,’ I smile, stepping down towards her, through the phalanx of scowling ghosts. ‘I thought . . . ’ I come to a halt. Andeanna hasn’t moved into the light, but now that I’m closer, I can see more clearly. Her face is a mess. Bruises on her cheeks and forehead. Split lips. Black, puffy eyelids. ‘Jesus,’ I whisper.
‘Pretty, isn’t it?’ A hand sneaks to her left cheek and one of the larger bruises. ‘Nothing broken, thank God. None of the cuts needed stitches. I’ll be OK in a week or two.’ A thin smile. ‘Maybe three.’
‘The Turk?’ I ask, and she nods. ‘He knows about us?’
‘No. I’d be dead if he did.’
‘Then why . . . ?’
‘Come here,’ she says, backing up. I follow reluctantly. When I get there, she’s reclining on a couch. She pats the space beside her. As I sit, she lays a hand on my knee and leans forward to kiss me. Winces and stops. ‘Sorry. It hurts.’
She slips into silence. I study her, appalled. I’m glad it’s dark. The shadows mask the worst of the damage.
‘I wanted to ring you but I couldn’t. Yesterday I was in no shape to talk – you should see the state of my ribs – and today I was penned in by guards. It was lucky you rang when you did — Axel was in the toilet. I was about to call you. Strange, the timing. Maybe we’re telepathic.’
‘Why did he do it?’ I snarl.
‘A poem.’
‘What?’
‘I’d booked in to see Etienne before meeting with you and Joe,’ she explains. ‘Etienne Anders, the mystic I told you about?’
‘What does she have to do with this?’
‘She read my fortune.’ Andeanna’s cracked smile tears at my heart. ‘She predicted wonderful times, happiness, companionship. She doesn’t know who my husband is, but she’s always been able to sense my sadness. This was the first time she’d made such promises. She said there was a new man in my life and he’d care for me, love me if I let him, and everything would work itself out.’