Stealing Time
Page 23
Disappearing into a tiny, dispersed community of people all trying to live outside of the strict government rules, using the fake IDs Reg, Elena and I had organised for her and Kir, was a piece of cake.
It’s a shame about Elena, you know, a real shame. I’ll miss her.
I didn’t hear from Varya for a whole week after she took off. Had the bloody cops on my doorstep daily, no thanks to Sebastian, who came in here damn near bashing down my door.
“Where’s my son?” he demanded, standing in that cocky legs-spread, arms-tensed stance guys like him have.
I just blinked at him slowly a few times while my brain caught up. I slotted all the puzzle pieces into place pretty quick-smart though. Took all the self-restraint I had to not burst out laughing. Good for you, Var’. That’s what I was thinking—good for you. I put on my best sweet-submissive-woman face and asked him, “Are you okay, sir? What’s happened?” Like I had no idea, like I barely remembered who he was.
He didn’t believe me, of course, that I didn’t know what he was talking about. I was a little hurt, I have to say. I was putting on my best performance, after all.
A couple of times over the next day or so, I tried to head out and shake the cops who stalked me, but they were sticky bastards. I got as far as the corner store a couple blocks over before I gave up. Grabbed some snacks and headed back home to wait.
It took a whole week.
Text message from an unknown number to my special, unregistered soirée client phone. It’s the old-fashioned kind, no data connection. A ‘dumb’ phone.
“Here are the coordinates if you care to join us. Be discreet and be certain. You won’t be able to go back.”
I grinned, then dismantled the phone and took a hammer to the SIM card. You know, just in case. Can’t be too careful.
Spent a few days tying up some loose ends. I still had my time tab display stock, which I didn’t fancy trying to smuggle out of the city with me. Moving a few tabs around the inner suburbs for wealthy clients was one thing, but driving them through the outer suburbs where I could be stopped for anything. Well, that’s something else entirely. Seemed a shame to just throw them out, though. Popped into the women’s refuge and donated the whole lot. You should have seen Lenny’s face: “I’ll have to get me some new Georgette Heyer novels,” she told me. I told her it was the last batch of tabs she’d probably ever get. “Spend them wisely,” I told her. She smiled. “Maybe I should read a real classic romance, then. Like, you know, Twilight or something.” I just snorted and told her to scram before I changed my mind.
Okay, so there was just one loose end to tie up, really. What can I say? I live a simple life.
After that it was my turn to head east. I still had to break into Varya’s apartment one last time, though, to grab my fake ID. Getting past the cops stationed outside wasn’t easy. Sebastian was always a bit delusional. He had to have known she wasn’t coming back—why bother with surveillance? But I got in there eventually, found the shoebox, right where I’d left it. Just my passport left in there, along with some spare cash. ‘Estella Ramirez’ is my new name. It means ‘star’. Elena’s idea, but I like it.
With a bit of luck, Sebastian will have bought into Varya’s chattering about Canada and New Zealand and is putting out feelers to look for her and Kir there. I trust he’ll eventually get distracted by an issue of great importance to national security and leave off searching. He’ll accept the fate that’s been handed to him and get on with the job. He’s done it before, after all.
We’re all happily settled out here in the sticks now. I won’t tell you where. Just picture us—Varya, Kir, Reg and me—in a little town not far from the beach, knocking back a few bottles of beer at sunset. Okay, so Reg and me knocking back beer. Varya’s more a mojito kinda gal and Kir loves his kiddie pineapple sangrias. Varya was right. They let old Reg off pretty quickly after they realised that whatever they threw at him would come back to bite the government.
You still can’t hold Varya back from work. Connor’s taken over running the Minor Miracles Foundation officially, but paperwork and job titles never stopped Varya. She spends a large chunk of each day in the back room with the fan going, tapping away at her laptop. I have no idea what she’s doing. Research? Blackmailing rich people to raise funds? I know she’s in touch with Connor, though, and I know the Foundation’s still pumping out cures regularly.
Reg and me, we look after Kir and share the cooking. Reg is kind of like the grandpa Kir never had, and it turns out he knew Elena better than any of us, so they have fun telling each other stories about Nanna, may she forever rest in peace.
Kir will start school next year and then I really will get into my early retirement properly. Maybe I’ll take up surfing.
In the meantime, I’d say we’re all pretty happy down here. Life is slow and easy, and the views are fairly spectacular. It feels like we’ve got all the time in the world, really.
Take care of yourself out there. And may your time be plentiful.
About the author
Rebecca Bowyer lives in Melbourne, Australia with her husband and two sons. She can be found writing about books, reading and writing at www.storyaddict.com.au.
Stealing Time is her second novel.
Connect with Rebecca Bowyer:
Twitter: @rebeccabowyerau
Instagram: @rebeccabowyerwriter
Facebook: /rebeccabowyerwriter
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Other books by the author
Maternal Instinct