“He wouldn’t have seen it like that.You want to come with menow, though?Help me find him, and if we do—you’ll tell him whatyou just told me?Let him see you?”
“I do want to come with you.”Before Laurie could ask about therest, she sat up and turned to him—broke into a bright, sad smilethat made Laurie ache with recognition.“I’ve missed so much,haven’t I?Not only my boy but my...Oh, God.It feels like raidingthe orchard to call you my son-in-law.”
“I would have been.I will be.”
“Look at you.So handsome.But...you need to look different,if you’re going to run the streets with me.Less...”
“Conspicuous?”Laurie wondered if her refugee life had broughther into cinemas for shelter; if she’d kindly avoided sayingless like Devlin Steele.“I can deal with that.Just wait a minute here.”
Laurieran silently back upstairs.Sirens were drifting in the distance,speeding his progress into the bedroom, although Interpol wouldscarcely announce their arrival like that.He pulled open thewardrobe door.There was the drawer where Sasha kept his streetclothes.He glanced inside.Finding it empty scarcely touched him,even as a nightmare made real: he’d found two empty houses now, andsupposed that part of his worst had already happened.He scannedthe rail for anything else that would do.Most of their gear hadgone to California with them but Sasha had left behind a jacket, ablack woollen one he’d worn for festivals and trips to thebeach.
Laurie put it on.It fit him perfectly.Underneath it hisclothes were just as travel-soiled and anonymous as they needed tobe.He remembered the first night he and Sasha had spenttogether—how in the morning he had fantasised that he might put onSasha’s street clothes and creep out into the frosty dawn, leavingSasha behind, brilliant and beautiful, to enjoy the wealth andeducation that had been doing Laurie so little good.He facedhimself in the mirror.Streetboy, he thought.Homeless.Vagabond.
He’dthought that he couldn’t transform any more, that Devlin Steele hadkilled the gift in him.But when he dashed back down the stairs tomeet Elizabeth, she scrambled fearfully to her feet, blinking inthe hallway’s dim light.“Laurie?God.I thought a tramp had brokenin and murdered you.”
“Thanks.”
“No, it’s good.It’s very good.We’d better go, hadn’twe?”
She wasbrave and sweet.Laurie was sure of this much about her by the timethe two of them had made it out of Bloomsbury and onto Euston Road,following back alleys he’d never seen before, crossing streetsquickly, not looking back.He believed her when she said she’dshared Stefan Petrica’s crimes as well as his virtues.He didn’tdelude himself about the life such a woman must have led.But hewas way past judging anyone who shared his love for Sasha, and hewould have valued her companionship—her alert, sharp-eyed presenceat his side.
Itwasn’t an option.He understood this as they rounded the lastcorner before the Tube station.He stopped dead, instantly enragingthe dozen late commuters riding hard on his heels.This time it wasElizabeth who drew him aside.“What is it?”
“I need to do something.”Laurie had grabbed Sasha’s satchel onhis way out of the flat.He hadn’t forgotten the envelope or hisobligations.Until now he’d been unsure when he’d have a chance todischarge them, but now a new thought presented itself, unfoldinglike a paper flower in water, so much bigger and more vivid than hecould have predicted.Yes, she was nice.Laurie wished to protecther.He wanted to divert danger away from her, keep her far out ofharm’s reach, and these feelings were the product of just half anhour’s acquaintance.
Sashahad known and loved him for two years.Laurie had never forgivenhim for running away—not the first time, and this secondabandonment had put a knot of rage in his gut so tight it hadhampered his breathing.Understanding burned through him: thesimple knowledge that, in Sasha’s situation, he’d have done exactlythe same himself.Laurie had seen a bloody sparrow do as much,feigning injury, dragging a wing along a London pavement to drawoff the attentions of a cat.
Why did it have to take bitter experience to bring about thechange?It was the same for most people, he supposed, or thephraselearning the hard waywouldn’t carry such a punch.That wasn’t muchconsolation.Elizabeth was staring at him expectantly.“I promisedto hand this in for Sasha,” he said, tugging open the satchel.“Atthe Immigration Guidance Council.Did you know he workedthere?”
“I’ve seen him coming and going.I didn’t know what he did.Isit...”She paused, and Laurie saw the poignant glimmer of a prideshe didn’t think she had the right to feel.“Is it something good,something he likes?”
“He loves it.He does advocacy and translation work for newrefugees.He’s a C-grade officer now—last month he got his advocacydiploma.”
Shesmiled.She took the envelope Laurie put into her hands as if allher boy’s gifts and achievements had been packaged up inside.“What’s this?”
“Evidence in a case he was working on, important papers.TheCouncil’s just round the corner—up here on Gordon Street.I can’tgo in there dressed like this.They know me.They’d know somethingwas up.”
“You want me to...”She paled.“God, Laurie, no.People like medon’t go into places like that.I’d never get past the doorman, letalone...”
“Put your hood back.”When she just stared at him, Lauriegently did it for her.He was used to coaching scared young actorsinto finding their first new skins.It was a matter of deportmentmore than anything else, a few adjustments in clothing and aninward attitude change.“Can you tuck your hair behind your ears?And undo your hoodie so your nice T-shirt shows?That’sit.”
“I still can’t.Please don’t ask me.Is it soimportant?”
“When he first told me about it, I was so wrapped up in my ownstuff that I didn’t think it was.But tell me what you think.There’s this guy called Yosiri Cuza.He was some kind of politicalactivist in Bucharest, and his life was in danger.When he camehere as a refugee, he didn’t speak any English.He got lost in thesystem and he disappeared, him and his wife and their threekids.”
“What happened to them?”
“Nothing exciting.He set himself up as a greengrocer.They hada little shop, worked hard, learned enough English to get by.Butthen...”
“Immigration caught up with them.”
“Yes.Which mightn’t have mattered, because Sash was working ontheir case, and he knows all about helping immigrants get refugeestatus.But I dragged him off to America in the middle of his work,and the other side allowed a witness to give evidence—a racistbastard who should never have got through the courtroom door.AndCuza and his family were deported.”She was listening to himattentively.She moved to his touch, barely noticing, when hestraightened her shoulders, put a finger underneath her chin tomake her lift her head.She looked like a courier now, a littleworn out from a long day’s work, but ordinary, trustworthy.“Sasha’s dug up all the background on this guy.It’s all here inthis envelope—everything to show the trial wasn’t fair, that Cuzaand his family deserve a recall.”
“My son did all that?”
“So you do think it’s important?”
“Yes!”Her brow creased, and Laurie had a glimpse of themother-in-law he might have encountered in a differentworld—loving, not a bit concerned about his gender, but ready torip a strip off him from head to foot if he messed around with herboy.“Of course it is.He’s helping people, giving them what heshould have had when he first came here.How could you ever havethought otherwise?”
