by Emmy Ellis
“You hurled yourself off the side of the boat hoping to become shark supper during the one before last.”
Scowling, because I had no argument for that accusation, I spat the words, “Is there no limit to your lies? You’re a bastard, Sutton. You knew I wanted to go to Guilia.” I rushed up to him, fists balled. “That was all I wanted.”
He didn’t budge as I banged his chest as hard as I could. I drummed over and over, the red heat of anger blistering through me. He was expressionless, and that got me madder.
I threw a punch at his face, intent on breaking his nose, seeing blood trickle from his nostrils to his mouth.
But he was quick and grabbed both my forearms. “Claudine.”
“I never should have trusted you, never should have… You’re a lying bastard. Just like everyone else.”
I wriggled within his grip, but he was too strong and his hold vice-like. So I sagged my knees, dropping my body weight. He countered that by spinning me to the wall and ramming my back up against it.
“Stop this.” His nose was nearly touching mine, his beard almost tickling my skin. “You’re behaving like a spoilt brat.”
“And whose fault is that?”
He tipped a little closer and pressed into me with his body. The material on our jackets slid together, and the heat of his breath brushed me.
“Have you quite finished?” Father said.
Sutton didn’t move; instead, he stared at me, a tendon jerking in his cheek.
Suddenly, he released me and stepped back. He pushed his hand through his hair and turned to face the door.
I was breathing heavily, my mind spinning as I rubbed my fingers and thumb tips together.
“Sit down, Claudine.” Father grasped my elbow and steered me to the chair he’d vacated.
It was warm on my bum and legs.
“I know this has been hard for you, and I never wanted your or your daughter to get involved.” He squatted so his face was level with mine.
“Guilia—you can say her name, you know. She has your blood. She is our family.”
“Guilia,” he said softly. “But she isn’t our family, Claudine. She has a new family who love her and are giving her a good life.” He paused. “She isn’t ours.”
I hated his words because of their truth. “But don’t you feel anything in here for her?” I flattened my hand over my sternum. “Are you really so dead in your heart?”
“It is true part of my heart died when your mother left me,” he said.
“And we all know whose fault that was.” God, why were we bringing this up?
“I have never professed to be perfect.” He took my hand again.
I wanted to snatch it back, but something about the way his big fingers wrapped around mine prevented me from doing so. Age had swollen his knuckles a little, and his skin was creased with large dark freckles spreading near his wrist. My father was getting older, and I hadn’t even noticed.
“I have plenty of room in my heart for you, Claudine. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”
I huffed. Now he was just being ridiculous. “You mean apart from your multi-billion-pound business in the illegal arms trade? A business that maims and kills?”
“That wasn’t something I set out to become involved in, but it happened.” He turned my hand over and appeared to study my palm. “And Guilia, she happened, too, and of course I care for her, love her. I would do anything to protect her. But she’s not in our destiny, Claudine, not in your destiny.” He ran the tip of his finger over my life line, following the curve across my palm. “She’s not here, not in your future.”
Damn, those tears were back and pricking my eyes with mean little stabs.
“And however much you want her to be, that can’t happen,” he went on. “You signed her over to a new family, and whether she even knows she was adopted isn’t clear. You may love her but you could also destroy her.”
I looked up from our joined hands. He was studying me with such earnestness, watching how his softly spoken words were settling in my psyche. And they were settling, the way a heavy winter duvet floated down on a bed after being shaken. I’d always known the truth would land again—the truth that Guilia wasn’t mine—but for a few hours, days, she’d become the centrifugal force in my life. All that had mattered.
I nodded slowly and allowed one tear to overspill.
He reached out, caught it on his thumb. “You have been so brave through all of this.”
“I don’t feel like I have.”
“You have. Many women, made of weaker stuff, wouldn’t have coped so admirably.”
“That’s strangely like saying you’re proud of me.” Something he’d never said. In fact, this entire conversation was completely unique to anything we’d ever previously communicated
He inclined his head. “You should take it that way.”
I wanted to say thank you but wasn’t quite there yet with those words.
“So when are they going?” I asked. “To start their new life?”
“Who?” Father frowned.
“Guilia and her parents.”
“Er…I’m not sure I follow what you’re asking.”
I shot a glare at Sutton, who was hovering by the door. “Was that a lie, too?”
“Not completely. I thought it might be a possibility.” He looked at my father and raised his eyebrows.
“Not necessary.” Father stood, once more uncurling his back at the speed old bones preferred. “Fabian will not be a problem again.”
“How can you be so sure?” My mind had filled with horror at the thought of Guilia staying here. She was such an easy target. Surely Father wasn’t serious.
“I am very near to a resolution with this whole situation.”
“Well, it didn’t bloody sound like a resolution earlier. And let’s face it, these dealings are hardly honourable. Who’s to say anyone will stick to anything they say?” I stood, a fresh wave of adrenaline sending my legs jittery. “Land mines, child soldiers. They’re capable of anything.”
“You’re going to have to trust me on this one.” Father glanced at Sutton. “I have agreed to what they want for now and I am setting in motion a plan to extract myself, safely, from doing business with them.”
“I don’t think we can take that risk.” I held out my hands and shifted them as though they were scales. “The odds are too great.”
“It is me who decides the wager,” Father said.
“No, no, it’s not. Not when Guilia is what could be lost at one pitch and toss.”
“I’m balancing the risk of uprooting her and her family against what it actually is, and now that those nasty pieces of work have bled out up at the lodge, Austria is a safe place for her. Fabian no longer has her on his radar.”
“But what about when he finds out we killed his men? Or if Jan and Rick passed on detailed information to Fabian about Guilia’s whereabouts?” I had to make him see sense.
“To make you feel better, I will leave my detail on Guilia for the foreseeable future. Unknown to her and her family, she will have a guardian angel in the shadows. Likely the most protected child on the planet.” He huffed. “But in truth, Fabian will not be concerned about his dead men. There are more where they came from who can be hired for the price of a good suit. All he’s bothered about are that the mines and guns are on their way.” He rubbed his fingers over his forehead and frowned.
I paced to the wall and back. This whole situation was shitty, and I felt out of control yet again. As usual, it was all in the hands of Father. He held the strings, I was just a puppet. Hell, everyone around him was a puppet.
“I want to see her,” I said, “before I go back to Juniper Hall.”
“You’re not planning on continuing your travels? What about Blooms?”
“Oh, come on, that was just a ruse to get me out of the way, wasn’t it.”
“Yes, I’ll admit that. But I did think the whole project would suit you rather well. If you
still want to continue with it, my support is there.”
“You should do it,” Sutton said. “Even I can tell you have a natural flare for flowers.”
“What?” I jabbed my hands on my hips. “Did you not hear what I said? I want to see Guilia—now.”
Father sighed, and I knew he’d ignored my request on purpose. “I can’t let you do that.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Because I fear you won’t be able to stop yourself from speaking to her, telling her who you are.”
“Of course I won’t. I’m not some stupid seventeen-year-old who doesn’t understand consequences anymore. I know all about consequences, thank you very much.”
“I will supervise,” Sutton said. “If you allow it to happen, sir.”
I threw a grateful glance his way. Though in truth, his support was the least he owed me.
Father creased his brow into one of the deepest frowns I’d ever seen. He glanced at his Rolex. “School will be out soon.” He paused, then, “From a distance, Claudine, only from a distance.” He gave a resigned shake of his head.
“Yes. From a distance is fine.”
“And I will organise the jet to return you to London later today and let the staff know to expect you.”
“Yes, okay.” Again I looked at Sutton. Did that mean we’d be saying goodbye in a few hours?
An image of Kolya seared through my brain. Losing people was becoming a habit. One I wanted to break.
Father sat and rested his hands on the table. He locked his fingers together.
“Are you coming home, too?” I asked.
“No. I have business to attend to.”
“More war business? Death and destruction business?” I couldn’t deny that my father’s dealings made me sick.
“I make money in many ways, Claudine.” He paused. “But I do feel it is time to part company with some traders.”
I thought about throwing a smart comment his way but held myself in check. He appeared weary with the whole thing. He didn’t seem larger than life anymore, the way he always had done to me. I wondered if he wanted to retire, if arms dealers could even do that.
“But I will try and come to Juniper Hall soon,” he said. “Perhaps we’ll eat dinner together.”
I walked up to him, stooped, and brushed a kiss to his temple. A meal together in our grand dining room that could seat eighteen people but for years had been unused, wasn’t a particularly appealing thought, but I couldn’t deny, seeing Father at home in his own surroundings and relaxing, was something he needed. And in turn, something I needed, too.
“But there’s one thing,” I said, and this was something I wouldn’t negotiate on.
“What?” he asked, gazing up at me.
“When you get your annual updates, photographs of her, I want to see them.”
He hesitated for a moment, no doubt wondering how I knew about that, then, “It’s a deal.”
Without speaking, I turned and hooked a finger in Sutton’s direction. “Come on, you. Seems you’ve volunteered to supervise me.”
And he also owed me a damn good apology after all the crap he’d pulled.
Chapter Thirty
We parked up outside the school with around ten minutes to go before the children were set free. I was antsy, unable to sit still, and bounced one foot continuously.
“Will you stop that?” Sutton asked gently.
“I can’t.”
“All right.” He placed one hand on my thigh, the one that wasn’t bouncing, and stroked me with his thumb.
The movement had a good effect on my skittish nerves, and I let out a long breath and stared out of the passenger-side window to watch other vehicles arriving. Some parents got out, mainly women, and made their way to the school gate then on through into the playground. They gathered, some in groups, some alone, and waited for the most important people in their lives to make an appearance.
A man got out of an SUV and strode towards the gate. Although he had his back to me, something about him was familiar. My stomach contracted, and my breaths became short. Where had I seen him before?
“I know him,” I said, wanting to warn Sutton in case the man was someone we needed to worry about.
“I know you do. Intimately, in fact.”
What?
“I do?” I leant forward to get a better eyeful.
The man glanced over his shoulder and stared directly at us. He lifted one hand then resumed watching the playground.
“Linus?” I shrieked.
“One of your father’s right-hand men,” Sutton said. “He must be the one sent to watch Guilia this afternoon.”
“Pardon me for being un-PC, but he’s mute. How in the hell can he alert someone if she’s in danger?” I didn’t like the idea of Linus being the man to watch out for Guilia at all. I’d speak to Father about that on the phone later.
Marion came along then, bundled up in white winter gear and resembling a snowball. She stood beside her son.
“There’s your answer,” Sutton said.
A tumble of thoughts cascaded through my mind. I’d thought Sutton had, in cold blood, murdered this mother and her big son. Genuinely believed it. Imagined him chopping them up with those damn pliers. Feeding them to gators. “But you…I…”
“What?” He frowned.
I shook my head. “Nothing.”
He stared at me as though puzzled by the emotions undoubtedly dancing on my face, flooding my eyes, then, “If you want, there could be someone else in place by tonight. If you don’t like Linus and Marion.”
“You? Instead of them?”
“Um, no. My detail is to watch out for you, same as it has been for the past few months. Except now I don’t need to hide.” He stroked my thigh harder.
“No, it’s okay. I’m pleased to see Linus and Marion, actually.” More than he’d ever know, because it felt like a weight had been lifted off me. The leaden knowledge that the man I had feelings for could kill in cold blood.
And I’d still hit the deck for him, big-time. What did that say about me?
Rattled by this latest turn of events, I shook my head. I’d examine my thoughts more later. Right now I was just glad that two people on the death list in my head had been brought back to life.
“But there’s one other thing.” I paused with my hand on the car door.
“What’s that?”
“You said you were taking my daughter to Mr Summer when those two pricks were at the back of the school.” I screwed up my forehead. “But that wasn’t true, was it?”
He shook his head. “No, it’s not. But I couldn’t leave her.”
“Why? She was in school.”
“She wasn’t. Well, she was. The teacher brought a few of them out to do tracings, on the front railings, the wall. I dunno, some art project. It was too risky; anyone could have walked past and grabbed her.” He paused. “And to be honest, there was a shifty character about. Turned out to be nothing, but I didn’t know that at the time. When the teacher took her back inside, you were gone.”
I studied him for a moment. He’d done the right thing, even though it had meant the shit had hit the fan for me.
“Come on, we have to go, it’s time.” I got out of the car and stomped over the snowy path, unable to acknowledge Linus and Marion as I walked past. I concentrated on what I had in mind next.
Here I was, hunched into my jacket, hands stuffed in the pockets. I curled one of those hands around the set of Russian dolls. I looked like any other mother collecting her child with the father, what with Sutton standing beside me. Except I wasn’t collecting her—I was collecting yet another memory instead. Sutton had his arm hooked through mine, more to stop me running towards Guilia, I imagined, than for anything else. Still, it gave the illusion we were parents and had the right to be here, no one anybody needed to fret about.
A door opened, presumably to one of the cloakrooms, and a woman—a teacher or an aide?— stood propping it wide. She kept the str
aggle of children indoors until they had spotted whoever had come to collect them before allowing them to leave. The kids appeared around seven or eight, older than Guilia, but I didn’t know the school system here and whether there were a range of ages in each class. I squinted to see better, to spot Guilia as soon as possible, but so far her blonde head wasn’t visible.
Another door gaped, another teacher standing against it. This was going to be difficult, trying to keep my attention on both exits.
“You watch the first door.” My breath puffed out in a cloud, and, God, my stomach turned with several somersaults.
Sutton grunted in response.
I concentrated on door two. A dark-haired boy held the teacher’s hand. He scanned the crowd, pointed, then peered up at the woman beside him. She nodded and let him go. My heart contracted at how he ran across the playground towards the crowd of parents, flinging himself at his mother and wrapping his arms around her waist.
I would never have that pleasure. Not from Guilia doing the same to me, and not, I was convinced, from any other child. I wasn’t cut out for motherhood.
Was I?
No. I doubted I could bring another innocent into the world, knowing the risks as I did now. I couldn’t face looking over my shoulder all the time, worrying over whether someone would turn up to snatch my baby. I never wanted to go through that again.
And suddenly there she was, my Guilia, my little girl, standing where the boy had been, clutching the teacher’s hand just the same. My chest filled with what I could only describe as love and a deep longing to hold her. Tears came, and I dashed them away—I didn’t want my view of her obscured for even a millisecond. My breath caught in my throat as Guilia glanced around for her parents, a smile in place that was quickly replaced with a downturn of her lips.
Are they late? That was what I imagined her thinking. Have they forgotten me?
A woman beside me stepped forwards. Then Guilia’s smile was back, bright and beaming and wonderful, one tooth missing at the front, and she let out a cry of delight. Jealousy gripped me at that—I would never experience such a moment, so I pretended it was me she was pleased to see, me she’d hurtle herself at.