Anyway, in a few minutes they would be in the air, flying south, leaving it all behind them.
And yet, secretly, he knew that he was lying to himself. As his flight was called and he picked up his carry-on luggage, Alex gritted his teeth. Trouble never seemed to leave him alone. Well, let it follow him to London. He’d just have to be ready for it when it showed up again.
6
NINE FRAMES PER SECOND
ALEX WAS GLAD TO BE HOME.
First of all, Jack was there, waiting for him, surrounded by presents she’d brought back from America.
Alex sometimes wondered what people would make of the two of them, living together the way they did. With her baggy clothes, her wild red hair, and her constant smile, Jack was more like a big sister than a housekeeper. And although she was actually his legal guardian, she never nagged or lectured him. They were really just friends and Alex knew that he couldn’t have gotten through the last twelve months without her. She knew what he was doing. She had tried to talk him out of it. But she had never stood in his way.
She’d bought him new jeans, two shirts, a Barack Obama baseball cap, and a pair of fake police sunglasses. And over their first dinner together, he had told her what had happened at Loch Arkaig . . .
but with no mention of any sniper.
“I just don’t believe it, Alex!” Jack exclaimed. “You go off for a nice New Year’s Eve party and you end up sixty feet under a frozen loch. Only you could manage that.”
“It wasn’t my fault,” Alex protested. “I wasn’t driving.”
“You know what I mean. How’s Edward? How’s Sabina?”
“They’re okay. They were shaken up. We all were.”
“I’m not surprised. Do you know how it happened?”
Alex hesitated. The one thing he wasn’t going to do was lie to Jack. “Nobody’s quite sure. They haven’t gotten the car out yet. It’s possible they never will. But Edward thinks one of the tires blew out.
He felt something just before he lost control.”
“And what about the man who helped you?”
“He didn’t hang around. He didn’t even wait to be thanked.” Alex wouldn’t have mentioned the accident at all, but he knew it would come out the following weekend when he and Jack went to Heathrow Airport to say good-bye to Sabina and her parents, who were finally returning home.
It was an uneasy last meeting, the five of them standing together, hemmed in by the crowds and suitcases and bright lights of Terminal Three.
“We’ll see you again in the spring,” Edward Pleasure said, reaching out and shaking Alex’s hand.
“We’ve got a spare room and we can head up the coast. I’m sure you’d enjoy trekking in Yosemite, or we could stay on Big Sur.”
Sabina’s mother gave him a hug. “I know what you did,” she said quietly. “Sabina told me. Edward would still be in that car if it hadn’t been for you.” Alex said nothing. For some reason, it always embarrassed him, being thanked. “I hope you’ll come and see us. And you too, Jack. Maybe you should come over together.”
And then it was Sabina’s turn. She and Alex moved a little to one side.
“Bye, Alex.”
“Bye, Sabina.”
“I thought you were brilliant in the car. When I started to swim up to the surface, I was certain I was going to die. But I knew my dad would be all right because you’d promised you’d look after him.”
“It seems that every time your family meets me, something bad happens,” Alex said. It was true. In Cornwall, the south of France, and now in Scotland . . . sudden violence had never been far away.
“Will you come to San Francisco?”
“There’d probably be an earthquake or something.”
“I don’t mind. I still want to see you.”
Sabina glanced at her parents. They were standing with their backs to her, talking to Jack. She quickly leaned forward and kissed Alex on the cheek. Then, suddenly, the three of them were picking up their carry-on luggage and making their way through to the security checks and passport control. Sabina looked back one last time and waved. Then they were gone.
The next day, Alex went back to school and the Christmas holidays were forgotten in a whirl of seating assignments, schedules, textbooks, new teachers, and old friends. Brookland was a sprawling, mixed comprehensive school half a mile north of Chelsea. It had been built only about ten years ago and it prided itself on its modern architecture, with double-height windows and bright primary colors. At the same time, though, it still had an old-fashioned, friendly feel. Everyone wore uniforms . . . sober shades of blue and gray. The school even had a Latin motto:
“No running in the corridor, Alex.” Miss Bedfordshire, the school secretary, greeted Alex with one of her favorite phrases, even though Alex had only been walking quickly. She had stepped out of one of the classrooms, blocking his path.
“Hi, Miss Bedfordshire.”
“It’s good to see you. Did you have a good Christmas?”
“Yes, thanks.”
