They carried on.Ben took the keys to drive.“You have copies of all my films?”
Nikolas agreed they did before he saw his error.
It was inevitable when they got home, therefore, that Ben wanted to see them.Once more, Nikolas had to fumble with buttons and remotes until with a sigh of exasperation Ben put out his hand.“You can’t see those without your glasses.Gimme.”Nikolas handed them over, wondering if Ben would realise what he’d just said, the intimate knowledge he’d thoughtlessly revealed, but he was intent on the start of the first film—the ANGEL logo, copyright details—and then on himself, on screen.A stranger in a strange place speaking words Ben didn’t remember saying.
Nikolas leant back in the sofa as he had earlier, studying Ben.It was like living with a Ben mannequin with the real man trapped inside and desperately signalling his existence—a light of awareness and knowledge flashing occasionally from inside.Nikolas saw this concept as a tangible reality and wanted to smash open this impostor and drag his Ben to freedom.But what damage would ensue from that destruction?Ben had encapsulated this succinctly, if unconsciously, that night.What if he didn’t want the same things when he came back?What if Ben didn’t wanthim?Wouldn’t Ben’s state of mind upon return be entirely dependent onhowhis memories were returned to him?As desperate as Nikolas was to tell Ben the truth (show him the truth also—Nikolas’s body was beginning to suggest very physical ways to return Ben to his lost life), he believed Andrea Gillian—Ben needed to come back gradually and naturally, not be forced.
Nikolas was extremely wary, therefore, of Ben watching these films but knew there was nothing incriminating about their relationship in them.It was ironic when you thought about it, which he did whilst staring at Ben’s flickering expressions as he followed the life of this beautiful stranger on the screen, that after eight plus years together there was nothing anywhere to show this relationship.Once Ben’s clothes had been moved from one wardrobe to another, their entwined life was, on the surface, entirely separate.Had he not recently sat on a tor and congratulated himself on this?
They were onto the tsunami now.Nikolas had forgotten.A few frames, one moment when Ben was to the side of the shot as a spokesman for the Philippines government had been talking to camera, and Ben turned to look at a tall, blond man leaning against a signpost.Ben stopped the film.“That’s you!”
Nikolas shrugged.“I often go to ANGEL projects.”
Ben studied him.“This was before ANGEL.This is a ChannelFourdocumentary.”
Nikolas began to light a cigarette, hoping to distract Ben into an argument about him smoking, but Ben jiggled the frame-by-frame button to where the figure on screen began to turn and played the sequence again—frame by frame.Done like that, each tiny facial muscle evident, it was obvious to Nikolas what he was seeing.He wondered if Ben would see it, given he had only the visual to go on and not the knowledge of what those smiles, the light in the eyes, the slight change of stance meant.Ben wound it back and played it again.Nikolas blew some smoke between them, waiting.Ben pursed his lips, tapping the remote on his wrist then leant back, very carefully studying both of them caught on eighty-four-inch high definition, declaring a love which in the real world made no appearance in the day to day.
Nikolas took the remote from him and switched the picture off.
“You look tired.You’ve had a long day.I’m leaving early—probably before you’ll be up.Philipa will be here by nine.The cleaning service—”
“You have a cleaning service?”
“Will be here for the whole morning.Philipa plans to take you out.”
“Fucking hell.Will she make sure to hold my hand if I have to cross a road?”
“I’ll be back late—probably after you’ve gone to bed.”
“No, I’ll wait up.Hey, I know, I’ll get this Philipa to take me to a shop, and I’ll cook something for dinner.”
“That would be—nice.”
* * *
Nikolas was in London by midmorning.He’d summoned his whole team—except for Andrea Gillian, who wasn’t involved in the Lancashire business.He was swiftly updated by Squeezy—Doctor Wood’s London office was closed.The website was temporarily disabled for maintenance.The doctor’s receptionist didn’t know where her boss was but thought he’d had an emergency in the family and would probably be back in a few days.Could she make them an appointment?
The manor house in Lancashire was empty.It had been stripped bare of cameras and what little furniture there’d been.The American psychologist, Grantley, was apparently back in the States.He wasn’t practising—his licence had been revoked in 2006 for moral turpitude.As no one knew what this was, including Nikolas, they glossed over it to discuss the actors.
Kate was having trouble following the money trail.She excused herself from the meeting after her update and promised she’d carry on working from home.
* * *
Philipa arrived at exactly nine a.m.Ben was watching for her.In a glass house this wasn’t hard to do.She was not what he’d been expecting.He’d pictured an extremely thin, glamorous, exceptionally beautiful and stylish woman.He had the distinct impression Nikolas Mikkelsen wouldn’t want anything but perfection in his life—in hisbed—as everything else in his life was exquisite and just so.He’d clearly done the man an injustice because this woman wasn’t even pretty.She clamoured out of an old Land Rover wearing tweed, sturdy shoes, and a headscarf.For one bizarre moment, Ben felt as if the Queen were visiting him.He went to the door and she embraced him.“Hello, Ben, darling.Dreadful business, but you’ll bounce back.You always do.Now, Niki’s decreed I can’t tell youanything, so don’t try to badger me.Whathaveyou done to your hair?Ghastly.Right, that’s the first thing we can do today.You look like a bloody badger.What’s that appalling thing on your neck?Oh, don’t tell me you got his—so, how are you, other than the obvious?Right, are you ready?Where’s that smelly old dog?Where’s my best boy?Hello, darling, good boy, yes, you’re a good boy.You want to come out with us?No, don’t do that, darling.”
They were seated in the old vehicle and clattering down the lane toward the ford before she stopped for breath, and Ben quickly interjected, “How long have you known Sir Nikolas?”
She glanced sideward at him.“Don’t fish.He warned me you would.”
“That’s about you!Not me!”
She hooted with laughter.
“What?”
“That’s the first time in ten years you haven’t called me ma’am and stuttered like a guilty puppy sitting next to a pile of pooh.”
“Err…”
