‘Nah, I’m having a coffee first.’ Sam ran at her and gave her legs a big cuddle before turning and running back to where he had been standing.
Sylvie headed into the kitchen to find Alex had put some cake out next to her coffee.
‘Black, one sugar? And some carrot cake.’
‘Wow! Today really is turning out to be the perfect day. I like that you now know how to do my coffee. And cake as well. Jobs, cake, occupied children. The day doesn’t get much better!’
‘For you maybe. The cake is a bribe so you stay here longer and help me come up with a plan.’
‘With the greatest respect, you have never struck me as the sort of man who needs help with anything much, but definitely not to plan.’
‘And I’m not, or I wasn’t. Until I moved to this place and had to deal with the likes of Marion bloody Marksharp. Honestly, give me a tribal warlord any day of the week.’
‘I mean, she’s bad, I give you that, but warlord bad?’
‘Oh, I know of what I speak.’ Alex nodded, and looked almost hurt that she had accused him of exaggeration.
‘I’m sure you do.’
‘No, really, that is how I earnt my living after all. Until I chose village life, and trust me, she’s up there. She may not have an automatic weapon strapped to her chest, but she has skills that could be classed as “enhanced interrogation”. Honestly. I’ve got myself out of some spots but for some reason I’m faced with Marion and speech dries up and pure survival instinct kicks in which means I just nod and say yes and pray for escape.’
‘OK, there’s too much here for me to take on at once. What do you mean how you earned your living? You’ve never told me. You’re really open in so many ways,’ she nodded to the coffee and cake, ‘and pretty private in others, so I don’t know what you do for work. I’ve just been taking the he’ll-tell-me-when-he-wants-to path. So now I’m a bit worried – tribal warlords, automatic weapons. Tell me I’m not drinking coffee with a fully paid-up assassin, and then we can discuss Marion.’
She felt the smile play at her lips, but half of her was serious; she knew very little about Alex, and had built a friendship with him based on instinct rather than any real knowledge. She hoped she hadn’t made a mistake. Obviously she was joking about the assassin bit but she wasn’t entirely sure what he did do, plus he had rocked up in Penmenna with a child of a markedly different ethnicity and no mother in sight. Maybe she should have asked a few more questions?
‘Put your mind at rest right now, I promise I’m not an assassin or mercenary. I’m a – or maybe that should be was a – journalist. To be honest I’m not sure where I stand when it comes to definitions at the moment. No, I am a journalist, have been for ever, and right now I’m working on a project to substantially fundraise for and raise awareness about the victims of the South Sudanese civil war. That idea I mentioned on our first ever pizza night, well, it has grown legs and has become an actual thing. Prior to this, for the last five years I was the Central Africa correspondent, so yeah, I know a bit about warlords and hotspots or at the very least have witnessed some truly horrific scenes. I was being flippant, of course, Marion isn’t an equivalent. Of course she isn’t. But does she scare the bejesus out of me when I should know better? Then yes, damn right she does. Which is why I need your help.’
‘OK, but can I ask you more about the journalism thing after we’ve sorted out Marion?’ She wondered if that was why she hadfelt that jolt of recognition when she first saw him on the beach. She must have recognized him from the television, reporting from a war-torn world as she cooked dinner with the TV on in the background.
‘I don’t think we have the power, even combined, to ever sort out Marion! She was frightening enough at twenty when I met her, and she’s had nearly two decades to hone her powers. She’s virtually indestructible.’
‘No, you’re probably right, but we can give it a go. I mean it, though. You’ve sat here the last few weeks, getting me to tell you all about my life in London and on the farm and you haven’t said a word about yours and now it turns out you’ve known Marion for ever. How come you know all about my ballet career and me but I have only just learnt what you do or did? Let alone that what you did involved travelling the world and probable tales of derring-do. You owe me an interrogation.’
‘OK, you can have it. No derring-do though, I think that died out with Robin Hood. But can we talk about today now, please. I’ve only got a couple of hours and it will make it you giggle.’
‘That I don’t doubt. You may continue.’ She sat back in her chair and looked at him through this different lens. A journalist – that made sense, and now that she knew, it kind of fitted. Central Africa can’t have been an easy posting, and had obviously had a massive impact if now he was working with the victims of something she wasn’t sure she had even heard of. There was a lot more to the man in front of her than she had perhaps realized. But then, wasn’t there always?
She had seen him as an all-action-hero type but even more questions were raised in her head. Presumably he wasn’t working overseas any longer because of Ellie, but she wanted to know more. Pushing was hardly going to be helpful and she recognized that it wasn’t really any of her business, but shedared any human being not to have their curiosity piqued even further by his revelation.
‘Hey, earth to Sylvie. I haven’t even started yet and you look like you’ve zoned out. Not cool, Miss Sylvie Williams, not cool at all.’
‘Sorry. I’m here, I’m listening. Now, tell me, whatareyou doing with Marion this evening?’
‘Stop smirking, and stop being naughty. You know full well I’m not doing anything with Marion as such this evening. I’m just doing what I’m told.’
‘Dear God, you tell me you’re going to tell me and then do exactly the opposite. Are you going to give me specifics or what?’
‘Give me a chance. Just eat your cake and listen for a minute. I can’t tell you if you keep talking. No, no hitting!’ Alex mock defended himself from an anticipated fictional blow.
‘You’re so bad. No one can see you, you know, and no one would believe I was as violent as you make out anyway!’
‘Shhh. Now you know Marion has got it into her head to matchmake on my behalf?’
‘Oh my! I thought she had dropped that idea.’
‘I wish. Unfortunately not. Anyway, she came over at the weekend with those three hell-spawn she calls “her boys” and told me she had the most perfect date lined up for me. A colleague of Richard’s, apparently.’
‘Hahahaha. No!’
