by Mandy Baggot
He’d fought in all four corners of the globe and taken on assignments no one else was willing to entertain. He’d spent time in anger management—that she wasn’t surprised about, and she was sure it hadn’t worked—time under psychiatric care after the death of his wife and child—she wasn’t sure that had worked either—and he’d also been a bodyguard for an Austrian princess. She didn’t like the idea of that.
She knew she couldn’t take the file with her, but she was sure one photo wouldn’t be missed, and she didn’t have any of her own. She needed something to refer to, because no matter what people said, memories did fade. There was one that said it was taken in Mexico. Nathan had been part of a team sent in to extract a billionaire UK business man after he was taken hostage. In the photo, he was half-smiling, wearing combat gear and camouflage paint, but it was his eyes that made her want that picture. They were staring out of the photo as if they were looking straight at her. She wanted to keep that image, and hold it in her heart forever.
Chapter Forty-Two
“Now, how about some eggs? I’ve got some salmon we could have with it.”
She wasn’t sure she liked the new mother who had come into her life. She had installed Autumn in the spare room of her luxury house in Mayfair, and had hardly left her side. She knew she should be grateful for finally receiving the love and attention she had craved, but it was already starting to suffocate her.
“Mother, I don’t like fish,” Autumn reminded her.
“But, Autumn, you hardly ate a thing last night. You need to keep your strength up if you’re going to travel to the US tomorrow.”
That trip was another bone of contention between them. It was less than a week since her kidnapping, but she had decided to travel back to America to take part in the IMAs.
She had done three solid days of sitting in the spare room at her mother’s house, looking at the gilded wallpaper and counting the number of flecks in each strip. She couldn’t think about anything else but Nathan. The photo she sometimes kept on the nightstand—but mainly in her hand—was the only thing she looked at apart from the wallpaper. She’d picked at meals her mother had brought in, meals Alison had no doubt paid a fortune for to be delivered, as there was no way they were home-cooked. Then, as soon as her mother was out of the room and out of earshot, she had sloped off to the en-suite and thrown up what little she had eaten. On the third day, Nathan’s eyes told her she was wasting away, not through lack of nourishment, but through lack of will. Her will had left her, and she didn’t know what to do. Long term, she still didn’t know what to do, but she didn’t want to be holed up in her mother’s house. It was almost as bad as being held prisoner in a warehouse. The only difference was filtered water on tap and Egyptian cotton sheets.
She needed something else to think about. She needed a distraction, and the IMAs were her distraction of choice. The sooner she got back into the world, the quicker those photos of her after the kidnapping, after the death of her boyfriend, after the Rockweiler/Janey debacle, after Blu-Daddy, had been published, the sooner she could move on. Where she was going, she didn’t know, but she had to get this done before she made any real decisions about the future.
“I am going. You won’t change my mind,” Autumn said, picking up a cup of coffee.
“I know.”
“And I don’t want you to come with me. I’ll have the usual team of…security.”
She’d hesitated slightly before she’d said the word. It didn’t feel right. Nothing felt quite right. It was like the past couple of weeks of her life had meant more than the rest of her life put together, and now she was at a loss.
“I’ve hired someone to go with you, a new PA. You can’t go without someone to manage your schedule. If you win those awards, Autumn, there will be meetings and television interviews. You can’t coordinate that yourself, and the last person from the record company was utterly useless,” Alison said, breaking eggs into a bowl and getting yolk on the sleeve of her blouse.
“Mother! You can’t just hire someone without asking me! Look what happened the last time you did that.”
She tried not to cry, but the tears were at her eyes so easily these days. Two sprang forth and fell down her face. She grabbed a linen napkin from the table and swiped at them.
“It will get easier, Autumn. It might never go away, but it will get easier,” Alison said, her tone soft.
Autumn put her coffee cup down with a shaky hand. “I don’t want it to go away. I never want to forget him.”
The intercom heralded a caller, and Alison moved into the hallway to answer it. Autumn let out a heavy sigh and picked up a piece of toast. She wasn’t hungry, but Alison was right about America. She didn’t want to turn up there frail and ready for nothing but collapse. Nathan had fought his whole life, and that’s what she had to do. She had to honor his life. She had to win those awards for him. And when she did, she would stand on that stage and tell the world how much she loved him.
Alison returned to the kitchen. “Autumn, the new PA is on her way up. Will you let her cook you some eggs?” she asked.
“You mean, she cooks as well as handling my schedule? What else does she do?”
“People say I am quite good at braiding hair, child.”
Autumn choked on a mouth full of air as Tawanda entered the room, her hands in the pockets of her denim pinafore dress.
Autumn leaped from the table and ran to the woman, throwing her arms around her and squeezing tight. Tawanda held her close, and Autumn let herself weaken. She reveled in being held by someone she cared so deeply about. Someone who understood, someone who had known Nathan.
“I can’t believe you’re here.” Autumn looked at her friend, held onto her hands. “I wasn’t sure I’d get to see you again.”
“Your mother found my number, said you were looking for a new personal assistant. I told her I already had the job,” Tawanda said, her eyes moving to Alison.
“We needed someone you could really trust this time, not just someone who looks the part,” Alison remarked.
“What are you saying, Foreign Secretary Raine? That I don’t look the part?” Tawanda asked, acting affronted and lifting up one high-top sneaker.
Autumn let out a laugh, then hugged Tawanda close again. She wanted to keep her with her in case she disappeared.
“You have lost more weight. This is not good. I will make you eggs, and you will eat them,” Tawanda ordered.
“I remember how good they were,” Autumn whispered, a faint smile on her mouth.
“I usually burn mine anyway, but look,” Alison said, indicating her sleeve, “I ruined a good blouse in the attempt.”
“It isn’t ruined, Mother, that will come out with a bit of pre-wash and a forty degree cycle,” Autumn stated.
Tawanda grinned at her. “My, my, child! You really did listen to Tawanda. I’m impressed.”
“I should have listened a lot more,” Autumn admitted.
“Ah, well, you listen right now, and I’ll teach you how to cook the best scrambled eggs, Jamaican style.”
She’d eaten at least four eggs made into scramble and a whole bowl of fresh fruit salad. She was full to bursting, and at the moment, she had no urge to go and lose it all down the toilet. The scene at the breakfast table was bizarre, but, strangely, it worked. There was her mother sipping at an herbal tea from a proper cup and saucer and reading the paper, and there was Tawanda, one of her big hands closed around a mug of coffee, a pen in the other hand, marking at the crossword. She wondered what Nathan would have thought of it.
After the kidnapping, and the death and destruction that had been brought into her life, it was like everything had suddenly stilled. There was quiet here, even with her mother’s constant fussing. There was time to think, time to recollect her feelings and memories. She liked the calm.
With that sentimental thought, Alison caught sight of the wall clock and leaped out of her chair.
“I have to go. I have a meeting in half an
hour, and I can’t be late.” She slipped her jacket over the fresh blouse she had put on before they’d sat down to breakfast.
Autumn was about to let out a sigh of relief, but she held it in. She was glad her mother was going out, but she didn’t want her to think that she didn’t appreciate her care. She did appreciate it, more than she was ever going to confess to.
“You’ll be okay?” Alison asked, putting her purse over her shoulder.
“Yes, of course,” Autumn answered.
“You’ll take care of her?” Alison directed the question to Tawanda.
Tawanda looked up from her puzzle. “That’s the most important part of being a personal assistant, as far as I am concerned.”
“Right, well I’m leaving then. If you need me, for anything, just call. You’ve charged the new iPhone I got you?”
“Yes, Mother,” Autumn replied, this time letting the sigh come out.
“See you later then. I shouldn’t be later than six. Perhaps we could go to dinner, if you feel up to it.”
“Perhaps.”
As soon as she heard the front door close, Autumn let out a breath that drifted on and on. It felt as if she had been holding onto a lungful of air for days. She took hold of her coffee mug and drank the black liquid down quickly. She coughed as some of it went down the wrong way then grabbed at her napkin to wipe her mouth.
“You will end up with indigestion if you aren’t careful,” Tawanda said. She poured water from a jug on the table into a glass. “Here, have some water.”
“Sorry,” she apologized, seizing the glass and taking a sip.
“You have nothing to apologize for, child.”
“God, Tawanda, I don’t know what to do! I’ve been here for days, but it seems like years. She’s treating me like a baby, and I know I should make the most of it, but, to be honest, it’s driving me mad.”
“She is a very complex woman, and she has dealt with a lot in her life. I think you should make a few allowances for how she behaves now. She has shared her deepest secret with you…about your father. She told me in case you wanted to talk. I’ve kept more secrets than I’ve made chicken dinners. Child, she wants to make up for all those wasted years when you didn’t understand each other.”
Autumn put the glass of water down and got up from the table. “I need to go out, will you come with me? We’ll go shopping. I need to choose something to wear to the IMAs.”
“Shopping isn’t one of my great loves, child.”
Autumn smiled. “I bet you’ve never done it with a platinum credit card.”
Chapter Forty-Three
“Autumn, just a few words. Are you going to the International Music Awards? We hear there’s going to be a tribute to Blu-Daddy. Will you be taking part?”
“Autumn, have you anything to say about Rockweiler and Janey Jacobs being charged over Blu-Daddy’s death?”
She didn’t even look at the cameras or the reporters shouting questions. Tawanda had positioned herself between Autumn and the paparazzi as they made their way from the cab into the exclusive boutique.
The sales assistant was at the door, beckoning Autumn and Tawanda toward her, ready to let them in and shut the rest of the world out so they could shop in complete privacy.
“Come in, Miss Raine. Would you like me to arrange some security for the front of the store?” the sales assistant asked as Autumn and Tawanda entered.
“No, that won’t be necessary. It’s Lydia, isn’t it?” Autumn asked, looking the girl up and down and hoping she had remembered correctly.
“Yes, it is, Miss Raine.”
“Please, call me Autumn.” Autumn turned, pulled a top out from a display, and held it out. “I remember you because you make the best coffee. I’ve yet to figure out the secret ingredient, but I know it definitely involves alcohol. So, hit us with two of your special coffees and some of those ginger biscuits,” Autumn told her.
“Yes, Miss R…I mean, yes, Autumn,” Lydia said, her cheeks pink.
Autumn took down the top and held it up to her body.
“What do you think of this one, Tawanda?”
“I think it will make you look like a broomstick in a sack.”
“I love your honesty.” Autumn passed a dress over to her friend. “Here, why don’t you try something on?”
“You want me to try this on?” Tawanda looked at what Autumn had chosen and screwed up her face. “You think I need to wear cocktail dress?” she asked.
“You’ll need something to wear to the IMAs. It’s broadcast in hundreds of countries, and it gets prime time on one of the big US networks, you know.”
“And you think I don’t have something suitable at home I can wear?”
The tone of Tawanda’s voice made it obvious she had made a faux pas. How stupid was she? How utterly contemptible, suggesting one of these outrageously expensive outfits to her friend and insinuating that anything she already had in her wardrobe would be inadequate to wear to the IMAs.
“Oh, Tawanda, of course not. I didn’t mean that. Well, of course, I did mean that. But I didn’t mean it quite like that. Of course, wear whatever you’d like.”
“This dress is almost three thousand pounds,” Tawanda remarked.
“Is that all?” Autumn said as she dropped down onto one of the leather sofas nearby.
“Why are we here?”
The black woman sat down on the sofa opposite. Autumn felt the intensity of her stare. Prickles started at the base of her neck under the scrutiny.
“I don’t know. I just needed to get out of the apartment, and I needed to get back to being Autumn Raine, pop star. It just doesn’t feel the same anymore,” she said, toying with the clasp on a new purse her mother had brought home for her.
It was smaller than the one the terrorists had taken, and it didn’t feel quite right yet. The clasp was still tight, but apart from a wallet and the new iPhone, it carried her precious photo—not the one of her father—that had been lost.
“You’ve been through a lot in a short space of time. You’re bound to still feel unsettled,” Tawanda offered.
“It isn’t just that. I can’t stop thinking about him, Tawanda.”
“Mr. Nathan,” she guessed.
“His real name was Scott. Did you know that?” Autumn asked, her eyes wide.
“Yes.”
“Of course you did. You’re part of that group, aren’t you?”
“Not this Section 7. This is new to me. I was in the Army. Scott and I—Nathan—we worked together for a number of years. He was someone I’d always trusted, and he felt the same. We were bonded by the terrible things we’d seen and the awful things we had to do. When you are in those dreadful situations, you form close friendships, and friendships built on life and death situations tend to be deeply forged.”
“Were you and he…?”
“No! No, child, never like that. There was never a connection like that. Besides, I am ten years older than he is…was,” Tawanda said.
“He was almost ten years older than me, according to his file,” Autumn said, her eyes glazing over as she thought back to the papers she had looked through, hoping to learn so much about the man she loved.
“He was married when we met,” Tawanda said, “devoted to his wife, and they had a child. She was a beautiful girl with dark hair like her father, in curls like her mother.”
Autumn could see the emotion sweep over her face as she remembered someone she had respected and admired.
“He told me, about Carolyn and Marie, about what happened, what that man did to them. And he carried that guilt around right until the end. That Nigel Farlow killed his family, and he took part of Nathan with him, too,” Autumn said.
Lydia arrived back with coffee and biscuits.
Autumn took the cup from the tray. “Thank you, Lydia,” she said.
“You’re very welcome. Now, did you want me to select some outfits for you? I take it you’re looking for something for the IMAs. I’m so sorry about Blu-Daddy
, I adored his songs. And your collaborations were always wonderful,” Lydia said, galloping over her words.
Autumn gave the assistant a small smile. “Could you leave us for a bit? We could just do with the coffee for now.” She sipped a bit of her drink.
“Of course. Just let me know when you need my help, and I’ll be right over,” Lydia said, an eager bounce in her step as she trotted off.
Autumn took another sip of her coffee then put the cup down on the table in front of her.
“No one ever talks about him, Tawanda. No one ever says his name. You heard Lydia. She said she was sorry about Blu. No one says how sorry they are about Nathan, and the press reported we were dating. Why does no one care about him?”
“You know how it works, child. Nathan wasn’t anyone to them. He wasn’t someone who had been on a chat show. He wasn’t a candidate for the Big Brother house. You told them he was the head of a computer company. That isn’t news to them. Besides, no one really knows what went on. You were taken. You were rescued. That’s all the details the press were given.”
“I just… I just can’t grieve for him like I want to, because no one wants to listen. I mean, my mother tried, and I asked her about a funeral for him. She said that the pathologists still have his body.” Tears welled up in Autumn’s eyes. “What are they doing with him?”
“I will listen to you, child, whenever you want to talk, but we don’t have to come to an expensive dress shop to do it.” Tawanda reached across and took one of Autumn’s hands in hers.
“It was either here or the coffee shop on Penny Road,” she said with a sniff.
“How about I take you to where I shop? That green dress of yours, the one Mr. Nathan like so much, we find something like that for you,” Tawanda suggested.