‘Do you think it’s something to do with the way…?’ Ben clenched his jaw but continued reluctantly, ‘To do with…’ He trailed to silence, took a breath as if for courage, then finished in a rush, ‘The way she wasconceived—me, having no memory at the time?’
‘Huh?’
Ben looked furious for a moment at his genuine confusion then slumped. ‘I mean, if you’re on heroin or something it affects a baby, doesn’t it? Or drink or smoke or something. So what if my mind being all weird and mixed up made her come out a bit…mixed—stop laughing at me! I’m being serious!’
‘Don’t hit me! You’ll spill my wine. I think it’s more the unusual life she leads? And maybe speaking the two languages doesn’t help. What is reality if things have many names? We learn our definition of reality through language. Remember, you learnt Danish as an adult. It’s not the same when as a child you have more than one native tongue.’
‘I guess. We’re going to have to decide what to do soon. Sarah will stay on after her honeymoon if we need her to, but I know she really wants to set up home with Daniel in Tavistock. They were looking for somewhere to rent at the weekend, but everything is so expensive, and his salary won’t go up until he becomes a vicar.’
He snorted, and Ben looked at him curiously. ‘What?’
‘As if.’ At Ben’s continued puzzlement, he explained dryly, ‘I couldn’t think of anything else to give them as a wedding present! I had to do something! It was that or a scented candle. It’s only a very small house…’
He didn’t really deserve the gratitude or the kissing or the offer of more wine and general pampering. He’d pondered having Daniel Kennedy killed once or twice. Had even jokingly planned it out with Peyton, but their extravagant ends for the shy young curate had become wildly impractical, so instead he’d set the big guy to sourcing a sunny little cottage for them near Daniel’s church, with a garden for Sarah. Not nearly so much fun. But he was fairly sure amongst the list of things Ben had made him promise—start eating, stop drinking, stop taking drugs, stop lying, stop having any fun, blah, blah, blah, there had also been the promise to stop killing people. This wasn’t working out particularly well for him so far this year, but it was a work in progress. No, Sarah was going to leave them. And, as Ben had just pointed out, something had to be done.
* * *
Chapter Five
It only occurred to Aleksey to mention the odd final remark the moron had made when Ben was already asleep alongside him in bed. He debated waking him to ask him if he knew what it meant, other than the obvious which he had worked out for himself: Timothy Watson was contemplating fatherhood. Aleksey smiled slyly and wondered if Ben would go for offering Molly up, but decided he probably wouldn’t. What an ideal situation that would be though. Rather than living in their garden, as she had so astutely worked out that she did, she could live at the farmhouse. A nice two hours away on foot. He could probably sell it to her by pointing out how extra-special her special nights with them would then be. After Sarah and Babushka, the professor probably looked after her more than anyone. He then smirked even more maliciously and wondered how long it would take Ben to realise the transfer had occurred. Would he look around one day and wonder vaguely where his daughter had gone? Ack, knowing Ben, he’d probably miss his friend’s company first. And Aleksey had no doubt at all that they’d be seeing a lot less of the good professor should he undertake fatherly duties for Ben’s daughter.
He could not deny that she was odd.
He was almost to the point of wondering if he shouldn’t seek some counsel on the matter. Obviously not therapy. They weren’t American. But maybe some advice from someone who knew about children. Like a mother. He thought he might ask Enid. She had done two stints in this role, firstly for her own daughter and then for her grandson.
Bizarrely, despite Ben’s earlier assertion that Molly’s behaviour resembled his own childhood demands for attention, Aleksey believed she more resembled him. Which would be a neat trick really. Who knew? Maybe Ben had been so full ofhisDNA that at that critical moment of conception some of it had just joined in the party and swum merrily along…although probably not from where he usually deposited it, he supposed. She was wilful, stubborn, demanding, fiercely intelligent, independent, and yet above all she was intensely loving—all the things he had been until life had taught him that that final trait was better kept hidden. His had been the kind of love that got people killed, for it scared them, made them shy away, and in that fearful movement they were sometimes lost. Thinking all these things, he made a mental note to stop Molly putting Jenna into her unicorn suitcase. Obsessive love smothered people, and he didn’t want her to discover this too young in life through a dead kitten.
But he was no further forward with solving their current dilemma. Concluding that Ben would not allow Timothy Watson to adopt his daughter, some other accommodation had to be made for her. Was four too young to go to boarding school? Ack, they had ludicrously long holidays anyway.
He turned his head lazily to view his other half, deeply asleep and breathing softly beside him. He could probably get away with smoking a cigarette. He blamed much of his current inability to make swift and decisive decisions on this new rule of Ben’s and felt the pull, the deep need for nicotine. He even pictured the motion of blowing a stream of smoke into the dark room, his worries then dissipating along with its faint trail. Instead, he put a hand on Ben’s warm, naked back and spread his fingers over the smooth skin, pressing very lightly to feel the muscle beneath. He propped himself up on one elbow and studied the sleeping figure. Phillipa had been right in her joking assessment of Ben: he did get better looking every day. It didn’t seem possible really. And what washeto do with this awareness? What more could you do than irrevocably fall, as he had done the first time he’d seen that face? What did you do after that, when you studied features and saw even more depth of beauty in them now than then? You changed, that’s what you did. You made promises. You stuck to them. He’d always said there was nothing he would not do to have this man by his side, but none of the things he’d offered up to fulfil that vow had actually involved any effort on his part. Sure, killing people, creating havoc, ruining lives, but not anything that really affectedhim. But to havethisBenjamin, he’d done the impossible—or was trying to. He sighed and rolled onto his back once more.
He did not think he fell asleep. Would have sworn, if asked, that he’d merely closed his eyes for a moment, but he jerked when something bounced and cried, ‘Papa.’ It bounced again but he kept his eyes closed, hoping it was just a dream, or, that being unlikely, it would just go away if ignored. ‘Papa?’ He grunted noncommittally, not admitting for a moment that he answered to that designation. ‘Papa!’
‘What!’
‘Can we go to Russia today?’
He opened his eyes and regarded her. She was jumping on Ben’s empty side of the bed, using it like a trampoline. Jenna was darting around, making up her own game with the rumpled sheets.
‘Can we go to Russia, Papa, to seeDed Moroz? I said the lights were so pretty last night, but Babushka said they were muchmorenicer in Russia and that then there would be snow. She said there was so much snow that sometimes Ded Moroz gets stuck and has to spend the night, andthenI could ask him lots of things. And he comes on New Year’s Eve, so I could have presentstwice. Can we go to Russia today, Papa?’
With a final bounce she flung herself down. He increased his grip upon the covers, given he was naked and other things beneath them. ‘Where is your father? Why are you here?’
‘Because Sarah can’t catch me.’ Her honesty was almost endearing. ‘And she won’t come down here to get me, so I’m safe. Get up, Papa; I want to go to Russia and see the snow.’
‘No.’ Before the inevitable tears, he added swiftly, ‘Jenna would not be allowed to fly, and you would have to leave her here. Do you want her to be on her own for her first Christmas?’
He almost regretted saying this, wondering whether Molly would come out with another odd comment about the kitten—possibly that it wasn’t her first Christmas at all—but she only changed tack and asked, ‘Can we decorate today?’
‘We are going to the island for Christmas. You can decorate there if you want to. Go back to the kitchen now and apologise to Sarah. She will be fretting, biting her nails and hovering by the entrance to the swim lane.’
Molly smiled to herself as she clearly saw the slightly malicious truth in this. She regarded him for a moment then tucked herself under the sheet and copied his position, on her back, staring up at the sky. She’d apparently worked out for herself that the reason her nanny would not come and fetch her was exactly the same reason why he could not get up and force her to leave. She began to sing to herself. Suddenly, there was a barked, ‘Molly!’ from the swim lane and they both jumped. They rolled their heads at exactly the same time to regard the other, and he murmured gleefully, ‘Now you’re in trouble.’
Ben stormed into the room in his running gear, took in the scene and pulled her from the bed. ‘You’re a naughty girl. You know very well you’re not allowed into our room unless I’ve said you can come down here.’
‘Jenna wanted to see Papa.’
‘Do not use your kitten to explain away your bad behaviour.’ He grabbed up the astonished cat and, carrying them both, one under each arm, strode out of the room.
