“I do have to.”Sasha stroked the still-damp cheekbones withhis thumbs.“I gave you some vague ideas about how I made a living,didn’t I?Back when we first met.And I told you it hadn’t alwaysbeen good.That sometimes I didn’t have choices.”
“Yes.You did tell me.I’ve got no idea why I just freaked outabout it.”
“Because I never sat there and told you flat-out that I wasraped.”
Laurie’sface twisted.He recoiled from Sasha’s grasp and slammed one handto the stair carpet, whose luxuriant depth even here absorbed theimpact soundlessly.“Fuck.Where are they, Sash?The bastards whodid it?”
“Long gone.They were...just clients.I never knew theirnames.”
“Then I can’t go after them and fucking kill them.”
“No.But I know you would if there was any way, and that makesmy whole world better.Laurie, you’re my world.All that badstuff’s gone, and if I can’t get that fact through to my stupidsubconscious...Olivia says you’re to wake me up from these dreamsnow.”
“She does?”Laurie swallowed.“That’s a bit of a volte-face,isn’t it?”
“Well, now she knows the plain ugly truth, just like you, youpoor bastard.She also fired herself.”
“No.You need somebody to help you.”
“She’s gonna send me someone’s name.But I’m not sure I evendream about that part of it—not all the time.”
“What, then?Oh, Sash—you always say you don’t remember.Pleasetell me.”
“My father.Stefan.Testifying against him was the only thing Icould do, and I don’t regret a word of it, but he rears his uglyhead, you know?”
“I know.”Taking Sasha’s hand, Laurie turned it over as iflooking for the future in its palm.“You felt like you’d betrayedhim, despite...”
“Despite the fact he’d sent a hit man after us.Yeah, I did—andbelieve me, I tried to get over it.Stefan’s in jail.In Bucharest,and probably for life.”
“Yes.You never have to see him again.”
“So what with that and our new dream regime, we’re...WhatdoesAll’s WellKenneth say when things are going right?”
“We’re laughing.”Laurie smiled weakly.“We’regolden,darlings.”
***
Olivia managed her timetable so that Laurie and Sasha wouldnever run into Marielle Fitzroy in the clinic.Today her schedulehad been interrupted, though.Or perhaps poor Marielle was havingone of her frequent crises and needed an unscheduled consultation.At all events, there she was, being aided out of the familylimousine by a smart female chauffeur in impeccable grey.Laurietightened his arm around Sasha’s waist and glanced round the foyerfor somewhere to run.“Oh, Christ.Notnow.”
“It’s okay.”Sasha would have preferred to dodge her, too.Heand Laurie might be golden but he wanted them home, in the ordinaryworld of daily bread, radio on in the background, paperwork spreadout across the kitchen table, chatter about their working day.Buthe was fond of Marielle, against all odds having formed a kind ofexiles’ bond with her in the wake of Clara’s disappearance.“Comealong, soldier.Best meet our deaths bravely.Has she got a newdriver, by the way?”
Laurieglanced at the impeccable girl now manoeuvring the limo neatlyround the clinic’s tiny car park.“Wow, yes.I hope Charlie’s allright.”He took Sasha’s advice, braced up and went smiling to openthe door for his mother.She was leaning heavily on the arm of agrey-haired lady whose face lit up at the sight of him.“Hello, Ma.Hi, Mrs Gibson.”
Gibsonmomentarily forgot herself.Since Sir William’s death she had beennot only housekeeper but loyal companion and guardian to LadyFitzroy, but Laurie had been her pet all his life.She droppedMarielle—Sasha stepped in and made a subtle catch—and threw herarms around her boy.“Laurence!We came and saw you at theQueen’s—Charlie and I did, that is.”For some reason her round facereddened a little.“You were lovely.We saw your Guardian reviewstoo, and...”She dropped her voice to a discreet whisper.“And thearticle in the Star.That wretched girl!We didn’t believe a wordof it.”
“Good,” Laurie told her, laughing.“Because not a word of itwas true.Never mind that—how are you?What has Ma done withCharlie?”
Againthat blush, knocking about forty years off her sixty.“Oh, that oldfool—he’s off on his holidays with some of his friends.Boys’ week,you know.”
Lauriecouldn’t imagine the sober, imperturbable man who’d ferried theFitzroys about their business for decades helling it up with thelads in Ibiza, but he let it go.His mother was winding herselfaround Sasha’s arm like a beautiful vampire clematis.“Gibson,Sasha needs a bail-out.”
“Oh.Bless her—she’s been much better.But she had a littleturn today, and I thought I’d bring her in.What are you boys doinghere?”
“Just passing.We popped in to say hi to Olivia.Ma, put theyoung man down.”
Marielle turned a bright face to him, and surrendered her gripon Sasha as Gibson took her in hand.“Maisqu’il est beau!Le pauvre garçon—je suis tellement desoléeencore...”
She lapsed into French a lot now that Sir William could nolonger scold her for it, as if making up for lost time.And Sasha,no matter how well he thrived, would always be her poor boy, theone she had betrayed for the sake of protecting her daughter.Shewould always be desolately sorry.Gently Laurie pushed back a lockof satiny hair that had tumbled into her eyes.“Yes, he’sbeauall right,” he toldher, shooting Sasha a sly glance.“But he’s not sopauvreany more.Look athim—smart suit, nice briefcase.”
