really. They described people who were small-time but thought they were big-time and went around screwing up their own lives and the lives of a lot of people all around them. I’m not going to let you do that. To yourself. Or anyone else. We’re going to talk it through and we’re going to bring out all the problems – imagined or otherwise – and we’re going to solve them, imagined or otherwise. And you’re going to grow up and stop thinking you need special favours and special treatment.’
Ruth interceded, deciding it had gone on long enough, getting the long-ago offered sodas and Blair took the hint and stopped. Realistically acknowledging that to attempt any sort of family gathering on the first night would be impossible she fed the boys first and put them to bed and Blair stood once more at the bedroom door and watched while she kissed them goodnight but didn’t try to kiss them himself because he knew Paul would resent it and John might be confused and he didn’t want either reaction.
She had steaks and he cooked them outside, remembering his promise to Ann and afterwards he and Ruth sat in the living room where the confrontation had taken place and Blair said, ‘I’m not sure I did it right.’
‘I’m not, either,’ she said. She moved quickly to explain what sounded like criticism but wasn’t. ‘Not that I think you said anything wrong. I just don’t know how it should have been done. Who the hell does?’
‘He used to be a bright kid, able to express himself!’ said Blair, disbelievingly. He looked at his watch, working out the time difference. It was too late to call Ann now.
‘You have to go somewhere?’
‘No,’ he said.
‘It’s good having you here,’ she risked. ‘I agree with everything you said, about the divorce and not being an excuse or a reason or anything like that, but I could never have spoken to them like that. Women can’t kick ass; not this woman, anyway.’
‘We just agreed that we’re not sure kicking ass was the right way.’
Shit, she thought, disappointed at his response. ‘You haven’t said how long you can stay,’ she said.
‘As long as it takes,’ he said. It was an exaggeration and he’d better call Langley tomorrow and see someone to make it possible. But he sure as hell wasn’t going to run out on them again, not until everything was sorted out. And call Ann, too. He hoped she was all right.
Brinkman went back over everything, examining all the clues and all the indicators and then he arranged a meeting with Mark Harrison and offered more from his period as interpreter – glad he’d held something back to bargain with – in the hope of getting from the Canadian some hint of what he might haved missed or overlooked which had taken Blair back to Washington. And found nothing. He’d spent too long ahead of the pack, with the plaintive cries behind him and decided he didn’t like being back there among them, with someone else out in front. He considered making some social approach to Ann before the planned birthday celebrations; not that she would have known anything positive, of course, because that wasn’t the way things were done but there might be a hint of a nuance that would be sufficient to show him where to look. But he decided against it. If she told Blair – which she undoubtedly would – then it would show he was anxious; using the friendship, in fact. Better to wait. It wasn’t long. He’d make it a good celebration, though.
Chapter Fourteen
Blair was still disorientated by the time changes and despite the final head-dropping tiredness as he sat with Ruth he awoke early, while it was dark. Seven in Moscow, he calculated: his normal time. Would Ann be awake? He’d have to call her today. He had to call a lot of people today. Blair lay, feeling the familiarity of his former home wrapped about him, thinking about the previous day and trying to decide whether he had handled it correctly. Unsure, too, about some of the things he’d said to the boy. Maybe thousands of kids stayed straight and all right after their parents divorced but could he dismiss it entirely? No, he thought, honestly. Continuing the honesty Blair realised he’d tried to take the divorce out of any discussion as much for his own conscience as to get through to Paul: maybe more so. The acceptance discomfited him, making him feel guilty. He had given the kid a bad shake. He’d given all of them a bad shake. Ruth worst of all because they were only kids but she’d been able to understand it all. He’d behaved like a shit and she’d behaved like a saint. Like she was still doing. He had to do more, determined Blair: not just now – he was doing all he could now – but later, when this had been settled. She deserved it; the kids deserved it. Conscience again? Sure it was. What else could it be? But proper conscience this time.
Blair reviewed the day ahead, watching the sky gradually lighten outside and listening intently for the sounds of movement elsewhere in the house. When they came, after a further two hours, Blair remained where he was, the earlier feeling of familiarity giving way to another sensation, the awareness that it was no longer his home and that he was a visitor to it and like a polite visitor it was necessary to wait until the people who really lived there got through their established morning routine and cleared bathrooms before he intruded. The boys were at the breakfast bar when he emerged, Ruth cooking the pancakes at the stove. She wore a housecoat but her hair was carefully brushed. The boys appeared tidier than they’d been the previous day; he saw Ruth had cleaned their shoes. The tightness remained between them all but Blair thought it was slightly less strained than yesterday. Awake for so long he had prepared for the encounter. Deciding it was important to create some sort of balance – even if the effort appeared obvious – and not refer constantly to the reason for his being there he asked if there were a team they supported and hesitantly, almost unconvincingly, they said the Orioles and Blair said if there were a game that weekend would they like to go out to Baltimore and take it in? The acceptance was hesitating, too. John made an effort, asking what Moscow was like and Blair snatched at the opening and said it was very different from America and he had a lot to tell them about it and why didn’t they talk about it over dinner? John nodded eagerly, the excitement at having his father again in the house obvious. Paul gave no reaction. Why the hell does he behave all the time like some goddamned dummy! thought Blair, irritably. They were waiting, lunch pails ready and packed, when the car sounded outside. Ruth kissed them both but Blair held back, like he had the previous night. Maybe it would be possible before he finally went back, he thought: but not now.
With the importance of that in mind he telephoned Langley while Ruth was clearing the boys’ breakfast things and setting places for them. He didn’t know whether the division chief would already be in but was glad when Ray Hubble came on to the line. It was insecure, so the conversation was necessarily general. Hubble had been the supervisor in Rome when Blair had been there and they’d worked together at headquarters before Blair’s London posting, so an acquaintanceship at least existed between them. Hubble said he was sorry to hear Blair had a problem and was there anything he could do and Blair said that was what he wanted to talk about. Hubble offered that day but Blair said tomorrow: he wasn’t going to rush the encounters with the counsellors. Blair had thought about them, in the early hours, wanting to get the maximum out of the meeting so he telephoned them both and suggeted a combined rather than separate encounter. Both agreed. Erickson’s office was decided upon.
Ruth had brewed fresh coffee by the time he returned to the kitchen, which was all he wanted. He told her about the altered arrangements with the counsellors and the reason and asked, in afterthought, if she wanted to come.
‘Would it help?’ said the woman at once. ‘I’ve seen them both, several times. But if it would help of course I’ll come.’
‘Maybe better by myself the first time,’ he agreed. He finished his coffee and said, ‘I’d like to make another call.’
‘All local calls are free in Washington,’ she reminded him, imagining he had forgotten.
‘This isn’t a local call,’ he said.
‘Oh,’ she said, realising. She seemed to spend longer than was necessary with her back to him, getting more coffee, and then she said, ‘Sure, go ahead.’
‘Collect calls are difficult in Moscow,’ he said. ‘If you’ll let me know the cost when the bill comes in I’ll send you a cheque.’ Polite visitor, he thought again.
‘No problem,’ said Ruth. She looked down at the housecoat, as if surprised to find herself wearing it. ‘I should get dressed,’ she said.
Blair used the kitchen extension. It was a bad connection and he had to shout over the echo on the line, wishing it hadn’t been necessary. Each agreed they were fine. Ann asked how things were and he said he didn’t know, not yet. He didn’t know, either, when he would be getting back. She told him she was taking Brinkman to the
