Topspin

by Soliman, W.

  No! He pulled his hand away so fast that he obviously surprised her, shut the door with unnecessary force, and rounded the bonnet to get to the driver’s seat. He called Calvin Peters every name under the sun as he did so, cursing the coincidence that had brought him to Porchfield at this particular moment in time. What were the odds of him finishing up there when there were hundreds of other clubs he could just as easily have been drawn to?

  If he hadn’t seen him in action again, hadn’t seen first-hand evidence of just what a slime bag he was, how women in general found it impossible to resist his reptilian charm, how he exploited his knowledge of Claire’s misdemeanors to get what he wanted from her, then perhaps time and the existence of his son might have caused memories of him and Tania together to fade.

  But fate had intervened, and he knew he’d never be able to get it out of his head that Tania had gone to Calvin and given herself to him voluntarily. Apparently even Claire hadn’t done that. The image would always come between them, and Jack knew the damage was irreparable.

  Jack slammed the car into drive so forcefully that his shoulder screamed in protest. Cyril cast him a look, but had the good sense not to comment on Jack’s somber mood, speaking only to give directions through Croydon’s one-way system. Tania sat in the back and said nothing at all. When they reached the club, Jack opened the rear door and held out his arms to take Dimitri from Tania.

  “You do not ’ave to stay. We will be quite safe now.”

  “I’ll carry him up for you,” he said. “I want to know a whole lot more about him before I go anywhere.”

  “If you insist.”

  Tania tossed her head, sniffed, and having passed Dimitri into Jack’s arms, walked ahead of him without another word. Cyril disappeared into the club. It was an American-themed speakeasy, aimed at those with a bit of dosh to spare, rather than teenage drug addicts. Jack reckoned Cyril had found a niche in the market because the place seemed to be doing a roaring trade. He chuckled as two attractive hostesses wearing tight dresses slashed to their thighs materialized out of nowhere, each of them taking one of Cyril’s arms. VIP treatment reserved for the boss, obviously.

  “His room’s down here.” Tania led the way into her flat and down a narrow corridor, opening a door on the right.

  Jack laid his son on the bed. Tania removed his shoes and outer clothing without disturbing him. Jack lifted him again so that she could pull back the covers and place him between them, pulling them up to his chin when he was safely ensconced. They were putting their son to bed together, as naturally as though they’d done it a thousand times before. He glanced at Tania and suspected she too was reflecting upon wasted opportunities. Jack brushed the hair from Dimitri’s brow and dropped a kiss on it.

  “He looks just like you,” Tania whispered.

  “Yeah.”

  Reluctantly, Jack stood up and followed Tania from the room. She left the door slightly ajar and a night light burning.

  “He’s afraid of the dark.”

  “With good reason, after what he’s just been through.”

  They entered the sitting room, which Jack noticed was pristine. He guessed the kitchen would be too. Cyril, the hard gangland boss whom everyone feared, had found the time to phone someone and got them to clear up all signs of Kevin and Wilf’s presence, leaving no unpleasant reminders for Tania and Dimitri. Jack chuckled. It wasn’t often that Cyril revealed his soft underbelly. Tania must mean a lot to him.

  Tania, without asking, poured Jack a large glass of bourbon, with just the amount of ice he preferred, no water. He took the glass from her, careful to avoid contact with her fingers.

  “Thanks. Aren’t you having anything?”

  “No. I’m tired.”

  “Of course. That was stupid of me. Go to bed, then.”

  “In a minute. Take your shirt off first.”

  Jack raised a brow and flashed a languid grin. “What, now?”

  “I need to clean up that wound because I don’t suppose you’ll go to the hospital.”

  “Nope.”

  He pulled his shirt over his head, not quite able to suppress a grunt as the pain hit him. Tania had disappeared and returned with a bowl of warm water, salve, and dressings.

  “Don’t be such a baby,” she scolded when he winced at her touch. “It’s not a deep wound, and I’m not hurting you.”

  Little did she know! It wasn’t her gentle probing that agitated. It was the searing of his skin beneath her fingertips wherever she touched him that was making him uncomfortable, but probably not for the reasons she supposed.

  “You’re a brutal woman.”

  “Don’t make so much fuss.” She efficiently applied a dressing to the affected area. “Dimitri wouldn’t be so squeamish, I think. There.” She sat back and nodded with satisfaction. “It’s done. Now, you want to know about your son.”

  “Tomorrow will be soon enough. I’ve waited this long,” he said after a significant pause, “so I guess a few more hours can’t hurt.”

  “If that was supposed to make me feel guilty, it won’t work.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me, Tania?”

  “Would you ’ave believed he was your child?”

  He should have anticipated that, probably deserved it, and wasn’t sure how to respond. “You still should have told me,” he said lamely.

  “Well, you know now.” She stood above him, arms akimbo. “So what are you going to do about it? I won’t have him upset. He has grand ideas about his father coming to be with him one day, and I won’t spoil his dream. Better he never knows who his father is than he’s disappointed.”

  “You think I’ll be a disappointment to him?”

  “You will be if he never sees you.”

  “We’ll work something out. But tomorrow. You look beat.”

  “Where will you sleep?”

  He patted the settee he was sitting on. “This looks comfortable enough.”

  “Go to a hotel, Zac. Nothing will happen to us now.”

  “No, this’ll do.” Jack was reluctant to leave and told himself it was because he wanted to stay close to his son. “I won’t get in your way.”

  “Well, all right.” She spoke with transparent reluctance. “Just for tonight, then.”

  Tania disappeared and returned almost immediately, throwing a pillow and blanket in his direction.

  “Thanks.”

  “Good night,” she said, turning abruptly on her heel and shutting the door behind her.

  Jack waited, sipping at his drink, until he thought he heard the bathroom door open and close and then another door quietly shutting. He waited a few minutes more, wanting to be sure she wouldn’t re-emerge, before going in search of the bathroom himself. She’d made it abundantly clear that she didn’t welcome his presence in her flat, and he didn’t want her to feel threatened by his refusal to leave.

  Deeming it safe to move at last, he headed down the corridor. The bathroom was on the left, immediately opposite his son’s bedroom. He pushed the door open, careful not to make any noise, and simply gazed at the child as he slept, flat on his back, limbs thrown in all directions. His child, his future! The fierce pride and unconditional love that swelled inside his chest was almost painful. It was unlike anything he’d ever known before.

  Creeping quietly from the room, he knew he wouldn’t be able to walk away without resolving a few issues with Tania first. Whatever objections she might throw in his path, it was desperately important to him that Dimitri should know who he was. The child needed to understand that his father wanted to be a part of his life.

  Jack stripped down to his boxers, folded his clothes over a chair, and stretched out on his make-shift bed, knowing sleep would be a long time coming. He stared at the patterns caused by the lights outside the club dancing across the ceiling and listened to the late night revelers noisily leaving the premises two floors below. He hoped they wouldn’t disturb his son. Dimitri badly needed to sleep after all he’d just endured.

&n
bsp; Exhaustion must have eventually triumphed over his erratic thoughts and the sun was already high in the sky when something pulling at his closed eyelids woke him. Peering through half-open eyes he discovered his son hovering over him, looking scrupulously and uncomfortably clean, his hair slick with water but already rebelling and standing up in spiky peaks.

  “Are you awake, Jack?”

  “I am now.” He leaned up on one elbow and smiled at the boy. “You look smart. Going somewhere?”

  “To church.” He pulled a hard-done-by face. “Mama and I always go. And then I’m going to my friend Grigor’s because he’s having a swimming party for his birthday this afternoon. He has a house with a swimming pool, and I can swim without armbands now. Can you swim, Jack?”

  “Sure I can. Where’s your mother?”

  “Making breakfast.”

  Dimitri moved toward the table under the window. He’d obviously been settled in there for some time before getting fed up with waiting for Jack to wake up under his own steam and deciding to help the process along. Jack pushed the blanket aside and strolled across the room in his boxers to peer over his shoulder.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Drawing.”

  There was a matchstick woman in his picture, with a much larger matchstick man standing protectively in front of her. Dimitri keeping his mother safe? An even larger matchstick man was bashing some hapless soul over the head. This was Dimitri’s pictorial account of the events of the previous day, obviously, and Jack didn’t know if he ought to be disturbed by it or pleased that his son could handle the memory of his ordeal so dispassionately. The new responsibilities of parenthood hung heavily on Jack’s shoulders at that moment.

  “Is that you?” he asked, pointing at the figure protecting the woman.

  “Yes, and that’s my papa.” He indicated the largest figure. “I draw everything that happens to me and keep the pictures for Papa so that when he comes home he’ll know what I’ve been doing.”

  “I think that’s a very good idea.” Jack struggled to get the words past the lump that had formed in his throat.

  “He’ll be pleased with me because I looked after Mama.”

  “I’m sure he will.”

  The smell of fresh coffee and bacon frying reminded Jack that he hadn’t eaten since the previous lunchtime. He was ravenous. Conscious of a presence behind him, he looked over his shoulder and discovered Tania leaning against the door jamb, watching the two of them, her eyes once again damp with tears.

  “Good morning.” He smiled at her. “Did you manage to sleep?”

  “Yes. You?”

  “Some.”

  “How’s your shoulder?”

  Jack had forgotten all about it. “Stiff,” he said, rotating it experimentally, “but otherwise fine.”

  “That’s good.”

  He examined her. Her hair was damp from the shower, hanging loose around her shoulders. She wore tailored trousers, a white blouse. With no makeup on her face, she still managed to look sensational.

  “Don’t you want to shower?” she asked, casting a significant glance at his almost naked body. “Breakfast will be in ten minutes.”

  Taking the hint, he gathered up his clothes and went to make himself respectable.

  “I wish Jack could come to Grigor’s party with me,” Dimitri said wistfully as the three of them sat around the table, Jack consuming most of the food single-handedly.

  “Perhaps I’ll see you afterward.”

  “Will you still be here?”

  Dimitri’s face lit up cautiously, as though he’d been let down before and didn’t intend to get his hopes up. Tania’s men friends—and there must be men friends—presumably made the boy promises they didn’t always keep just to get close to her. Tania’s censorious gaze warned him not to give the boy false hope.

  “Sure, I’ll be here,” he said. “Do you like football? We could play.”

  “Yes, sometimes. But I like tennis more.”

  “Dimitri plays in a junior league and is already winning medals.” Tania’s pride in their son’s achievements was unmistakable.

  “I beated a much bigger boy than me the other day,” he said proudly.

  “You beat,” Tania corrected.

  “That’s what I said. I’ve finished, Mama. Can I be excused?”

  “Yes, dushechka. Go and clean your teeth now and put your shoes on or we’ll be late for church.”

  Dimitri pulled a face at Jack but scampered off obediently enough.

  “I’ll drop Dimitri at Grigor’s and be back by noon.” There was a soft smile on Tania’s lips as the whirlwind that was her son disappeared from the room.

  “I’ll buy you lunch.”

  “No. We will talk here, and then you go, no?”

  “We will talk here, and then I’ll go, maybe.” He looked into his wife’s eyes, finding it impossible to interpret her thoughts in the way that he’d once easily been able to do. “I want to know a lot more about my son, Tania.”

  “So you say.” She consulted her watch, the gold Cartier he’d bought for her in another lifetime, and stood up, collecting empty plates and cups as she went. “But it’s more complicated than that. We will talk about this later.”

  Alone in the flat, Jack explored. There were just two bedrooms. Dimitri’s was a typical child’s room, cluttered with possessions that reflected his exuberant personality. Tania’s was minimal and overtly feminine. No signs of a masculine presence, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t a significant other in her life. He wondered why the prospect made jealousy rip through him, having already decided that a reconciliation with Tania was out of the question. He checked the wardrobes, but they revealed no unwelcome surprises. What they did do was remind him that he’d been wearing the same clothes for over twenty-four hours and that he didn’t want his son to keep seeing him in a shirt covered with blood.

  He let himself out of the flat and didn’t have to walk far before he found himself in the High Street. Thanks to Sunday trading, he’d soon kitted himself out. By the time Tania returned, Jack had utilized his new shaving gear, cleaned his teeth, and was dressed in new cream chinos and a pale blue polo shirt.

  “You’ve been shopping.”

  “How was church?”

  She shrugged, looking nervous as she threw her jacket across the back of a chair. “We can sit outside and talk, no?”

  She reached into the fridge for a bottle of wine. Jack opened it while she sought out a couple of glasses and led the way to a pretty rooftop terrace. The heady perfume from a riotous array of colorful plants, spilling over the sides of their pots and jostling with one another for domination in the limited space, assailed his nostrils. This was typical Tania. She’d created tranquil beauty out of nothing and had probably suggested sitting out here now because the atmosphere of calm would help them to confront the awkward conversation they could no longer postpone. A table and four comfortable chairs were arranged around a closed parasol. Jack erected it and poured wine for them both.

  “Cheers!” He raised his glass to hers. “Congratulations, you’ve done an amazing job.” They both knew he wasn’t referring to the patio.

  “Thank you. It ’as not always been easy.”

  “I can imagine, but Dimitri appears to be well-adjusted and happy.”

  “He is.”

  “Tell me about him.”

  “Well, he goes to the local fee-paying school. Cyril,” she added when Jack raised a brow, wondering how she could afford to pay for his education.

  “Not Russian?”

  “No, I thought about it, but as we live in England he must learn to be English.”

  “I noticed he addresses you as Mama.”

  “Da. I speak to him in Russian, but everyone else uses English.” She smiled. “He is fluent in both and changes without thinking about it.”

  “Kids are like that, I’ve noticed, when they learn languages young enough.” Jack stretched his legs out in front of him and settled into a
more comfortable position. “When is his birthday?”

  “September sixteenth.”

  Jack tried to mentally work out when he might have been conceived but gave up when he felt Tania’s eyes resting censoriously upon him.

  “When are we going to tell him?”

  “Tell him what?”

  “You know what. That the father he’s desperate to meet has come for him.”

  “We are not. I won’t have him upset.”

  “I want to be a part of his life, Tania. Is that such a bad thing?”

  “It will unsettle him. First you almost get us killed, and then you want to turn his life on its head and do everything on your own terms.” She stood up and glared at him. “He’s full of what happened yesterday, and I don’t want him to think such things are glamorous. You do not ’ave the right to do this to us, Zac.”

  “I think you’ll find,” he said icily, “that as the boy’s father I have a whole raft of rights.”

  “You’re being unfair. We were quite happy until you came back.”

  “Which is why Dimitri spends all his time dreaming about his absent father and drawing pictures for him.”

  She sniffed. “That’s not the same thing. You bring violence with you, Zac, and are already turning Dimitri’s head. I don’t want that sort of life for him.”

  Jack felt his temper slipping. “I’m not the one to blame here, Tania. You knew what I was when I married you. I promised to get out of that life and I did. You’re the one that strayed and then didn’t even bother to tell me I was a father.”

  “I wanted to tell you,” she shot back at him, “but I knew ’ow it would be.” She folded her arms and turned away from him. “And I was right.”

  “You don’t think I had a right to be ever so slightly pissed off when I came home and found my wife having sex with another man?”

  “You only see what you want to see, Zac.”

  “There’s no mistaking what I saw.” He paused, his anger draining away, replaced by sadness for what they’d lost. “Why did you do it, Tania? Was there something you wanted that you weren’t getting from me?”

  “You wouldn’t understand.”