More than anything. The words rung in Flic’s ears, and she believed it wholeheartedly. For Anna to love anything more than the church was something monumental indeed. She silently vowed to protect Anna’s heart always.
“You wouldn’t make us a cup of tea, would you?” Anna winked.
“Oh, here we go, domesticated bliss at its very best.”
Chapter Twenty-six
It was odd lying in bed next to Flic. Naked.
Although Anna had her conscience to battle, she also had the endorphins, or whatever she thought they were called, of love to deal with. One moment she would remember, with alarming clarity, the moment she orgasmed, and she could swear her heart would double in size, but another moment, that same thought would scare her and send shocking waves of guilt and shame to her core. The rollercoaster ride continued.
“You okay?” asked Flic.
It was three in the morning, and although Anna had slept soundly until then—pure exhaustion ensured that every time Anna was on the verge of drifting back to sleep, a jolt of guilt would awaken her.
“I feel like a cheating wife.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Pardon?”
“Oh, I’m sure you feel guilty, but you’ve not hurt anyone. You’ve not even cheated on God really. A nun would have a strong argument, I’ll grant you that, but you’re not married to God. You haven’t cheated. You’ll never have to look at the person you cheated on and admit you’ve behaved like the lowest of the low. Hopefully, you’ll never wear that label, because no matter how hard you try, you can’t take cheating back.”
“This sounds like the voice of experience.”
“It’s the voice of someone who wears the label with shame. We all burden guilt in some way or another. Some things are harder to forgive yourself for. Trust me, you’re not a cheater.”
“Will you tell me about it some time?”
“One day I will, but for now, all you need to know is that the person you made love to is right beside you, and she’ll help you through absolutely anything.”
Anna snuggled into Flic’s open arms. “It’s fleeting when it comes over me, but it’s real.”
“It won’t last forever. I promise. Plus, surely the world is a better place if we’re all filled with love? I honestly can’t see the real God, if there is one, begrudging you that. In fact, I’d say she’s pretty pissed off with organized religion right now. She’d be delighted for you though, I bet.”
“She? Since when did God become a woman?”
“Since in my mind she can. Prove to me she’s not?”
“Oh no, we’re not going through this again. If I hear one peep out of you about Santa or the bloody Easter Bunny—”
“What about the tooth fairy?”
“Or her too—”
“Him.”
“What?”
“In my mind, the tooth fairy is a man. A big raving—”
“Yes, thank you. I get the drift.” Anna nuzzled closer. “You challenge just about every belief I have.”
“That’s good, right? I mean imagine if I just agreed with everything you said and did.”
“Can’t see any problem with that.”
Flic continued unperturbed. “And regardless, it’s not so much that I want to challenge you; it’s just that I hope you learn to see that we can all make choices about who we are and what we believe.”
Anna pinched Flic’s backside. “I think your mantra is sinking in.”
“Yeah, well, it doesn’t make us any less a good person.”
“Is that correct English?” Anna was finally feeling drowsy. She looked at her phone. It was four thirty. “I feel better now.”
“You do?”
She was keen to relieve Flic of her sermon duty for the night. “I do. I’ve found love. I’m not hurting anyone. I have nothing to feel guilty for.”
“And?”
Flic knew her so well. Anna loved that about her. It astounded her how someone, just one person in the world, could know her more intimately than absolutely everyone else. And the best thing about it was its effortlessness. They understood each other without effort. In fact, she realized, she loved Flic without effort. The only obstruction was her beliefs—the ones she had previously thought expanded her mind. She was beginning to wonder if the knowledge of religion would continue to expand her mind, not necessarily her faith. By forging her own path and choosing her destiny, in partnership with that knowledge, she determined that only then would she truly be open-minded.
Flic nudged her, waiting for an answer. “Well, with all the wars and suppression in the world caused by religion, I’m beginning to see your point that God would just want people to be in love and at peace. Why do so many people have to hate so many other people?”
Flic yawned. “I think that’s a discussion for another middle of the night chat.”
Anna turned her back to Flic and pushed her backside into her middle, encouraging Flic’s arm to encircle her. “I’ve imagined you holding me like this.”
Flic squeezed. “I’m your big spoon.”
“Night night, big spoon.” Anna could barely whisper the words.
“Night, little spoon.”
*
Anna made it to seven o’clock sleeping soundly, but her need for the toilet and a strong cup of tea saw her slip out from beneath Flic’s arm. She scrounged around the floor for her pajama bottoms and a hoodie and padded into the kitchen. The smell of coffee greeted her only moments before an MI5 agent.
“Good morning,” he said.
“Morning.” Anna eyed the coffee and decided to forgo the tea. “Do you mind?”
“No, of course not. Help yourself.” He seemed to fidget for a moment. “Um, is Miss Bastone up yet?”
Anna eyed him warily. “No. She’s still asleep. Why? Is everything okay?”
The officer appeared undecided. “Yeah, I guess. Well, maybe no.” He sighed. “Look, perhaps I’ll wait until she’s up.”
“Is she compromised again?” Anna didn’t want to even contemplate what another attempt on her life would do to Flic.
“No, nothing like that.” He reassuringly touched her shoulder.
Of course they weren’t. If they were, organized chaos would reign. She tried to relax.
She spotted a newspaper on the table. “Do you mind if I take a look at that?”
“What? That newspaper? It’s yesterday’s tabloid shite. You don’t want to read that.”
With the days all merging into one, it made little difference what paper it was, tabloid rubbish or not. “Sure, it’s better than none.”
“Oh, no, no, no.” The officer stood firm. Firm and weird. “Sorry, miss. It’s Anna, right?” Anna nodded, eyebrows raised, wondering if he’d overdosed on caffeine. He sighed again, clearly uncomfortable. “I’ll show you. I’m Leo, by the way.” He went to the table and turned the paper over to reveal the front page.
Anna’s hand covered her mouth in shock and sadness.
The ex pope was in hospital. He’d suffered a stroke.
But the officer didn’t linger on the front page. He continued two or three pages in. Anna gasped.
“It’s not good is it?” Leo said. “I mean as hard as it is, I’d want to know that that was in the paper.” He shook his head for a long moment. “It’s probably better coming from you anyway.”
The headline read—Bastone Body Parts Arriving by Mail.
Similar to charts seen in doctors’ surgeries, an anatomically correct picture of a woman with a superimposed image of Flic’s head filled the front page. Blackened out were body parts that the newspaper claimed to have been sent to them by those holding Flic captive. Body parts that the sender was claiming to be Flic’s. “It would take the paper five minutes of actual journalism to find out that this is all rubbish.” Anna was disgusted.
Leo shrugged and looked embarrassed. Usually people with alarmingly low IQs bought this particular newspaper. “I like the crossword,” he said.
“Do they really expect people to believe that someone has sent Flic’s finger, hair, little toe, and eyeball to a newspaper with the threat of more body parts if her book isn’t removed from shelves?” Anna thought for a moment. “Could this really have come from the people after her?”
Leo shook his head. “I’ve no doubt someone has sent body parts to the paper. But the Order aren’t claiming it’s them. And it’s hardly their style.”
Anna agreed. Plus it didn’t make sense. The Order don’t have Flic. MI5 do.
“I reckon it’s some other wacko with access to dead people and a grudge against Flic’s, sorry, I mean, Miss Bastone’s, book,” said Leo.
Poor Flic.
Anna closed the paper and poured a coffee. The ex pope was in hospital—probably caused by stress—and Flic’s body was being chopped up and delivered to the crappiest newspaper in Britain. She had to tell Flic about it.
“I’m sorry,” said Leo. “Of course I can throw out the paper and ask the officers who come here not to mention it, but I just know if it were me I’d want to know.”
“She’ll want to know, too. She’d be disappointed if she found out I knew and didn’t tell her.”
“She’s famous. I suppose as shit, sorry, I mean as rubbish as it is, it’ll only be news for a day or two.”
Anna had her doubts, and even if it did blow over that quickly, she doubted Flic would bounce back with the same speed. Isolation was wearing her down, and this wouldn’t help. Anna tipped the remainder of her coffee down the sink. She closed the paper and folded it neatly before disappearing with it into the bedroom.
Flic didn’t stir as Anna slipped out of her clothes and slid under the covers. The newspaper on the bedside table was the only reason she couldn’t relax.
Flic rolled over and wrapped an arm around her. “Where’d you go?”
“Coffee. I needed a coffee.”
“Where’s mine?”
That was a good question. She’d forgotten. “I’ll get you one in a minute.”
“Is everything okay?”
“Of course.” Anna knew she was rubbish at lying, and it was certainly a ridiculous lie. Everything was not okay, and pretending that it was and then waiting until Flic woke fully to tell her was just stupid. “Actually, no. There’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”
Flic shot into a sitting position. “I’m glad you feel comfortable enough to talk about it. If there’s anything about last night you didn’t like or you want me to change—”
“It’s not about last night, Flic.” There was nothing Anna could do to prepare Flic for what she was about to see. “I need to show you something and it’s going to upset you.” Anna retrieved the paper.
“The pope, a stroke? How sad.” Flic obviously copped a glimpse at the cover page.
“No, unfortunately, that’s not it.” Anna turned the pages and rested the paper on Flic’s lap.
“Oh, my fucking hell. I’ve been shot and blown up and now some clown is sending body parts to a newspaper and claiming they’re mine.”
“I know. It’s ridiculous.”
“No, what’s ridiculous is that the paper is printing this shit. How on earth, even if they were dumb enough to think the odd limb arriving at their office was actually mine, do they think printing this would help me?”
Anna wanted to say something helpful, something positive, but nothing sprang to mind. She knew Flic was upset because her life had now been reduced to newspaper sales. Anna looked on helplessly as Flic’s eyes darkened.
“I’ve risked everything for this fucking book. Half the world wants me burnt at the stake and the other half probably couldn’t give a fuck because I’m making shed loads of money out of a gay pope.” She threw the paper at the wall. “Well, everyone’s making money out of my fucking misery now.”
“Please try not to let this get to you.”
“Get to me? It’s already got to me” Flic’s face was red and her eyes were moist. “I can’t take much more of this.”
Anna pulled her into a strong embrace. She’d wondered how long it would be before Flic finally broke. Everyone has a threshold and it looked like Flic had finally reached hers. Anna wasn’t surprised that this had toppled Flic over the edge. Having Anna there as support was probably what gave her permission to fall apart. Sometimes all it took was knowing that there was someone there to pick up the pieces before you broke. Anna rocked her back and forth. Flic was well and truly broken.
“You’re still here?” Flic said after many minutes.
Anna held her at arm’s length. “And where on earth did you think I would go?”
“I’m famous for this book. Soon I’ll be famous for having a relationship with my Catholic PR expert. All of this will stay with me forever.”
“And if you play your cards right, so will I.”
“Forever is a long time.”
“I don’t want to put pressure on you, but what does forever look like to you?” asked Anna.
“It means commitment. It means a romantic marriage proposal followed by a simple but elegant wedding, and it means a lifetime of happiness.”
Anna smiled, relieved. “Then maybe forever isn’t long enough at all, but for the time being I think it sounds reasonable.”
“I feel empty.”
Anna guessed Flic’s dally into a whimsical life together would be short-lived.
“I wish I could make the hurt stop.” Anna squeezed her tightly.
“I just feel so hopeless, so disconnected.”
“I’m not sure this’ll help, but we have to try to move forward. If we think of a problem, we try to think of the solution at the same time. Sound like a plan?”
“I can think of a problem.”
“What’s that then?”
“There’s fucking mad men out there trying to kill me, and our country is full of idiot bloody newspapers that publish utter shite.”
“And your solution?”
“Blow them all up.”
“Great plan, Einstein.” Anna squeezed Flic. “You’re a wasted talent as an author.”
Flic stared at Anna. “How on earth did I manage to win your heart? And all in direct competition with the church.”
“Perhaps I found something to love more than I love the church.”
“I just want this to end.”
“And it will. I promise. In the meantime, we have to learn to live with it.”
“I’m the source of scandal after scandal. I think my author days are over.”
“Nonsense. What a ridiculous notion. Although you can’t see it now, and I’ll forgive you if you can’t see it for some time, but all of this is an opportunity.”
Flic rolled her eyes.
“Write a book about it. About the attempts on your life and about the safe houses. That will shut them up.”
“A book?”
“Yes, silly. A book.”
“I really can’t see how that’s a good idea. I’m finished as an author.”
“Think about it. It’ll make a great story.”
Flic seemed to process the thought. “Maybe it’s not a bad idea.”
Anna watched her mull it over.
Flic developed a grin. “I think it could work.”
“Trust me, it will work. It’s my job to spin lines for stuff like this. I harness quality opportunities out of rubbish situations, do I not?”
“Will you help me?” Flic was excited.
“Of course I will. But get Cameron to help you with the actual plotting and writing. He’s the best of the best.”
Flic agreed.
Griffin’s editor was the best person to help her, but she appeared keen to begin immediately. “I’ll make a start on it today and then speak to Cameron when we’re out of here.” The prospect of writing again was exciting her. “I mean, when will I have time on my hands like this after we’re safe and allowed to go home?”
Flic smiled warmly causing Anna’s head to go all mushy. “It’s a gr
eat plan, and when better to begin than now?”
Flic eyed her thoughtfully. “Where will home be for us when this is over?”
“London, I presume.”
“No, I mean for us. Will we have the same home?”
This time it was Anna’s turn to laugh. “Can I make a confession?”
“There’s a million jokes in there somewhere, but go ahead, my child, I’m all ears.” Flic pretended to cross herself.
“I had no intention of sleeping with you when I came here.”
Flic raised her eyebrows.
“Well, I told myself I had no such intention.”
“Then what exactly was your intention?”
“I wanted to explore what it would be like with you. I came because I realized I couldn’t function without you in my life. I ridiculously told myself that we’d be married before we had sex for the first time and then we could live together.”
“And now?”
“And now we should move in together.”
“Oh, that’s so lesbian!”
“What? It is not.”
“You know the lesbian joke, right? One date and then move in together.”
“Well, in that case, it’s smooth sailing for us and not stereotypical at all.”
“How do you figure that?”
“Because we haven’t been on a date yet.”
Chapter Twenty-seven
Flic knew she’d fallen in love, but by the end of their first full day and night together, it was clear she was done for. Anna let her explore her body, allowing her to do things to her that she’d never before experienced, and Flic found herself experiencing things for the first time, too. She’d never felt more responsible for someone else’s body or heart. She’d never felt so protective, so adoring, and so gently nurturing of the love that was developing between them.
The countryside was spectacular—when the rain stopped—and they spent their days anonymously exploring the coast discussing the contents of her new book, often taking notes as they sat and watched the dull gray water of the North Sea. On rare occasions they encountered other walkers. No one recognized her or bothered with much more than a friendly hello. If they intended on going too far, an officer would accompany them, but on shorter walks, they relished time alone.
The Fifth Gospel Page 23