by Liz Fielding
‘Something like that,’ she mumbled.
‘Because the same thing crossed your mind when you were out there?’ Her eyes slid away. She’d wanted to, she was still ashamed to be part of a world that left children to suffer so. ‘I know how difficult it is to leave the children. Believe me, I know. But it is for the best. Their country will need them, every one of them—’
Her head came up. ‘If they survive.’
‘They will.’ He reached out, touched her cheek with just the tip of his fingers, and she jumped, physically jumped, as the contact fizzed against her skin like a tiny electric shock. Gannon curled his fingers into a loose fist, as if it was the only way of controlling them, before letting his hand fall to his side. ‘With people like you on their side.’
‘If that’s so, why didn’t you leave Sophie with her mother?’ she challenged him.
‘It wasn’t possible.’
‘Why?’
‘Leave it, Dora,’ he said irritably. ‘It’s history. Is that soup ready yet?’
She stared at him for a moment longer, then turned back to the saucepan and switched off the heat. ‘Just about. Can you put a couple of slices of bread in the toaster while I fetch Sophie?’
Sophie had settled on a dark blue T-shirt, a pair of trousers that were a shade too long and, despite the grey, miserable weather, a sunhat. Now she was sitting on the floor, switching the television from one channel to another with the remote control, staring in fascination as cartoons, old movies, a golf tournament and a talk show followed one another across the screen in rapid succession.
Dora took the remote from her, settled on a cartoon and then bent to roll up the child’s trousers before finding a pair of socks and trainers from the heap. The effort required to get her into them as Sophie dived around, determined not to miss a second of the cartoon, at least helped to blot out the endless questions racing through her head. Briefly. That done, she took Sophie off to wash her hands, resorting to picking her up and carrying her when encouragement didn’t work.
Dora could see she was already ten times better than she had been last night. Food, warmth and antibiotics were all doing a good job. But she still wanted her looked at by a professional.
And she still wanted some answers. Particularly about Sophie’s mother. She wanted to know what had happened to her, and, history or not, she wouldn’t be put off for ever.
She had just reached the kitchen when the telephone began to ring.
She paused, looked uncertainly at Gannon.
‘Aren’t you going to answer that?’ he asked.
‘The machine’s on. Whoever it is will leave a message.’ And please, please don’t let them say anything to undermine her story. She picked up Sophie and popped her onto a stool, handed her a spoon, all the time trying desperately hard not to listen while her voice invited her caller to leave a message.
‘Dora? It’s Richard. I just spoke to Sarah and she said there had been some bother at the cottage, that you’d left in a bit of a hurry—’
Before she could even turn, Gannon had crossed the hall and picked up the telephone. ‘Richard. This is John—John Gannon—’
‘John?’ There was a pause while Richard absorbed this information. ‘What the devil are you doing in Dora’s apartment?’
‘I’m afraid that I’m the bother.’ Gannon turned and looked at Dora, white-faced across the hall in the kitchen. ‘I broke into your cottage last night because I needed somewhere quiet to stay for a few days. I had no idea it was occupied—’
‘Good grief, John, you must have scared poor Dora out of her wits.’
‘Not half as much as she scared me.’ He was silent for a moment while his knuckles whitened as he clutched at the receiver. ‘I understand congratulations are in order. I didn’t know you’d remarried.’
‘What? Oh, yes. At Christmas. I’d have had you as best man if I’d known what country you were in. I’ll bore you at length about how happy I am when I get back from the States—if you’ll still be around?’
‘My wandering days are over, Richard. I look forward to seeing you.’ His voice had a struggle to get past the hard lump in his throat. It barely made it. He forced himself to repeat the words, with conviction. ‘I look forward to it.’
‘Great. So tell me, John, what have you been up to that you were forced to hide out at the cottage? Woman trouble?’
‘Something like that. Let’s just say that my place is off limits until I’ve sorted out one or two things. Dora kindly offered to put me and my daughter up for a few days...I hope you don’t mind.’
‘Why should I mind if Dora doesn’t? What—?’ Before Gannon could think of an answer, Richard had put his hand over the receiver briefly, turning away to have a muffled conversation with someone. ‘Look, I’ve got to go, John. We’ll catch up on all the news when I get back. You’ve obviously got plenty. A daughter, did you say?’
‘Yes—’
‘Well, whatever kind of mess you’re in, Dora’s your girl. She’s got serious guts, and she knows everybody. I’ll see you when I get back, John.’
‘Don’t you want to speak—?’ But he was talking to the dialling tone.
He replaced the receiver with extreme care on the cradle. Richard Marriott was a man he had looked up to and admired all his life. He’d seen him on the rack when one marriage failed and put the blame on Elizabeth without question. But suddenly he wondered if he had been right. Any man who was that casual with his wife scarcely deserved her love and loyalty, let alone the kind of happiness that he boasted of.
Dora was waiting, poised, expectant across the hall, yet with something, apprehension almost, clouding her eyes. ‘Richard sent you his love,’ he said, putting all the feeling he could dredge up into the words.
‘Did he?’ She very much doubted it. He was just saying what he thought she’d want to hear. Protecting her from disappointment. It was oddly touching.
‘He was called away,’ Gannon went on, his hands curling with the effort it took not to cross the room, take her in his arms and hold her, love her as she should be loved instead of making excuses for her husband. No meeting could be that important. ‘He didn’t seem to mind that I was staying here,’ he added.
‘Why should he?’ Dora asked, pushing her luck a little, still unable to quite believe that she’d got away with it. ‘You’re his friend.’
‘That’s what he said. He obviously trusts you...and me...’
‘He’s no reason not to.’ For just a second their gaze met, and Dora felt a charge of heat light up her insides as they both remembered the moment in the woods when neither of them had been thinking about Richard. In her case it was understandable. In his... well, it seemed that Gannon was having a little trouble deciding whether to be saint or sinner.
The doorbell rang and he peeled away, releasing her from the intensity of his searching gaze so that her breath came back in a rush and her legs quite suddenly didn’t have sufficient strength to hold her, so that she had to hang onto the counter top.
The reprieve was all too brief. ‘The guy at the door wants some money for the food mountain he’s brought’
‘It’s in my handbag.’ There was the slightest wobble in her voice. ‘Help yourself.’
Once again their eyes met briefly over Sophie’s head. ‘I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Dora,’ Gannon said, his own voice tight in his throat. ‘You never know where an invitation like that might lead.’ And he passed the bag to her.
CHAPTER EIGHT
‘WHERE are you going, Dora?’
Dora shouldered Sophie and stood her ground. ‘Sophie almost fell asleep over her soup. I thought I’d put her down for a nap. Any objections?’ she demanded, when Gannon continued to block the kitchen doorway, a box of groceries in his arms. Then, ‘She didn’t get much sleep last night.’
‘No, I suppose not.’ He struggled to contain a yawn that caught him out. ‘None of us did.’
‘The spare room is the one on the right. Help you
r—’ Dora bit back the words. He acknowledged her mistake with one of those lazy, economical smiles that lit up something inside his face and turned the lights on inside her. The kind of smile that curled her toes and threatened an emotional chain reaction that could so easily wipe out her determination to keep her distance. ‘You’re most welcome to use it,’ she said, with careful politeness.
‘Thank you,’ he replied, mocking her. ‘But I’ve got a few things to do before I can take a nap.’ He stepped aside, and Dora felt rather than saw him catch his breath as his damaged ribs grated together, and she shuddered as her own body seemed to echo the sickening sensation.
‘There are some painkillers in the drawer. They might help,’ she said, on a sharp breath. ‘Or maybe you’d rather wait for the doctor to prescribe you something stronger?’
‘I don’t need anything,’ he muttered, sweat standing out on his brow. ‘Just you to move out of the way so that I can put the siege rations down.’
She would have taken them from him, but burdened with Sophie, half asleep on her shoulder, she was unable to do more than step out of his way, glancing back as he crossed the kitchen.
Unaware that she was still watching him, Gannon slumped against the island unit, his breathing shallow as he fought to control the pain. He was hurting a lot more than she had realised, certainly more than he would ever admit to, and she wanted, needed to go to him, take him in her arms and hold him until the hurt went away.
Before she could do anything, however, he quite deliberately straightened, his teeth clenched against the pain, and she stepped out of sight before he turned and caught her staring at him. He was a man who lived on his strength, and she knew he would hate her to see him kitten-weak, even for a moment. But as she moved quickly down the hall she was more determined than ever that the doctor should see him, too.
She laid the sleepy child on her bed and pulled off her shoes, socks and trousers before brushing her hair out of her eyes and tucking the quilt around her, taking time to recover from the racketing heat of her pulse, time to remind herself of all the good reasons not to open her heart. It was getting harder each time.
‘I’ll call the doctor now,’ she said, returning to the kitchen. Gannon turned to look at her, and all her hard-won determination to keep her distance evaporated. The greyness of his skin had intensified and his face had the pinched look of a man near the end of his tether. ‘John?’ she murmured uncertainly.
For a moment he remained perfectly still. Then he turned and pushed past her, and a moment later she heard him retching painfully. She hesitated. She longed to go to him, hold his head, bathe it, cradle him. Only the certainty that he would rather not have a witness to his weakness kept her rooted to the spot.
There was a long moment of silence, and, suddenly afraid that he had passed out, she began to run. Then she heard water running as he turned on the taps, and she stopped with her hand on the door. He didn’t need her this time. But she could do the next best thing and call the doctor, tell him that he had two patients to look at and ask him to come as quickly as he could.
She had just replaced the receiver when she realised that he was standing in the doorway and she spun around. ‘You’d better sit down before you fall down, Gannon,’ she said tightly.
For a moment she thought he was going to argue. Then he threw up a hand in what could only be a gesture of resignation. ‘You could be right,’ he said, crossing slowly to the nearest armchair and lowering himself cautiously into it. ‘Remind me never to let you drive me anywhere again.’
‘Oh, I see, that was travel sickness, was it?’ she asked, with teasing sarcasm that nearly choked her.
‘What else?’ he said, and clutched at his chest, holding himself together as he was shaken by a coughing spasm.
What else indeed? The kind of travel sickness that occurs when the journey ends somewhat abruptly in a field. The kind of travel sickness that you get when you ignore cracked ribs and make a run for it with a child in your arms. The kind of travel sickness that could get very complicated indeed without medical attention. ‘I think I’ll wait for the doctor to make a diagnosis if you don’t mind,’ she said.
‘You’ve called him?’
‘Of course I’ve called him. I’m in enough trouble without having to explain away the body of a strange man in my flat.’
‘I’m not about to expire, Dora. I just need to rest for a while.’
‘Is that all? You’ll have to forgive my lack of confidence, but I’m the one over here looking at you, and frankly I think it’s going to take more than a nap to put you right.’
He squeezed his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and long, slender fingers. ‘Maybe you’re right. But before I can think about a trip to Casualty for an X-ray I should make some calls, too.’
‘I agree. And a solicitor should be at the top of your list. I can give you name of a good one, if it’ll help?’
‘Thanks, but I have my own. But you wouldn’t happen to have a friend in the Home Office, would you? Richard said you know a lot of people.’
She frowned. ‘Did he?’ If Richard had said that, he obviously assumed that she was helping Gannon out of his difficulties and clearly saw nothing wrong in that. ‘Actually, he’s right. In fact I met the Home Secretary himself once, at a dinner party—’
Gannon raised his eyebrows. ‘Did you, by God? Well, perhaps we shouldn’t bother the boss just yet.’ He offered a smile. ‘Better keep him in reserve, just in case. For the moment I’d be quite happy with someone at Principal Secretary level. Just as long as he’s friendly.’
‘Would a friendly female Principal Secretary do?’ It was his turn to lift an eyebrow. ‘Not all my friends are male. Nor are all civil servants, come to that.’
‘I’m not prejudiced, Dora. I don’t care about the sex, just as long as he, she or it is likely to be sympathetic.’
‘That probably depends on just how many laws you’ve broken—’
‘I wasn’t counting.’
‘And, more importantly, which ones.’
He shrugged. ‘Let’s see. There’s removing a child from a refugee camp without permission—I’m not quite sure what law that breaks, but there’s bound to be one.’
‘Several, I should think.’
‘Then there is the small detail of smuggling her across more international borders than I can at this moment recall.’
‘Borrowing a plane without the owner’s permission?’ Her prompt was greeted by a fleeting smile.
‘Thank you, Dora, I hadn’t forgotten that one, but Henri won’t press charges once I’ve had a chance to explain. Making an unauthorised landing, entering the country without informing Immigration or Customs and Excise, and bringing in an illegal alien might, however, prove a little more problematical—’
‘I imagine it will.’ She waited, then, when he didn’t offer any further misdemeanours, she asked, ‘Is that it?’
‘All I can think of. Apart from breaking and entering, of course. But you already know about that one. Will you press charges, Dora?’
‘Don’t get smart with me, Gannon. I’m already an accessory after the fact in that one. I meant drugs, smuggling of dutiable goods, possession of illegal firearms—serious stuff. If I’m going to ask friends for favours I need to know that you’re not...’ A crook. Using Sophie as a shield. Using me. He was looking at her with a slightly detached expression, as if he knew exactly what was coming next but was damned if he was going to help her out with the words. She gave an awkward little shrug. ‘Well, I don’t know a whole lot about you,’ she finished, somewhat lamely.
‘I just wanted to get my daughter to safety, Dora. Bring her home. If you’ve any doubts about that, you’d be well advised to pick up the telephone again and call the police right now.’
Dora was perplexed. ‘But if she’s your daughter, Gannon, why didn’t you just go through the proper channels?’
‘Do you think I didn’t try that first?’ He leaned ba
ck in the chair, with every appearance of a man at the end of his tether. ‘Have you any idea how long it would have taken? Most of the people at the camp just thought I’d taken a fancy to the child, wanted to give her a chance. Some thought I was trying to get her out for adoption by a couple desperate for a child. And they were the charitable ones. No one actually believed that I was telling the truth, and she wasn’t in the kind of place you can get a genetic blood match at the drop of a hat, you know.’
‘No, I suppose not. But taking her was—’
‘An act of desperation? I was desperate. It was that or leave her there while the wheels of bureaucracy ground ever so slowly.’ Despite the pain and weariness, his look was suddenly razor-sharp. ‘You wouldn’t have left her there, would you, Dora?’
She had the feeling that he was pushing her into an admission that she would have done what he did, that they were cut from the same cloth. Maybe he was right, maybe pushed to the limits she would have done exactly what he did, but under the circumstances it seemed madness to admit it. ‘They’ll know you took her, won’t they?’
‘Of course they’ll know. It’s why I took Henri’s plane. I’d never have got through Immigration with her. And I couldn’t ask him to break the law and fly me in himself.’
‘You didn’t care about involving me,’ she declared, leaping to her feet, suddenly very angry indeed.
‘That’s not true, Dora, you involved yourself. You had any number of opportunities to get away and you didn’t take them. Remember that when you’re being cautioned by the local constabulary.’
‘Cautioned?’ She stared at him. ‘What will they charge me with?’
‘I’ve no idea. But I’m sure they’ll think of something. Unless we can sort everything out first. How friendly is this girl you know at the Home Office?’
‘Very friendly at a dinner party, or a first night, or the kind of charity function that we both seem to go to. But this is unexplored territory; I can’t guarantee that she won’t go straight to Immigration if I call her. She’ll have her job to think of. In retrospect, I don’t think calling her would be that bright.’