‘I have to get a new identity, and I have more work to do. I didn’t defect, Claire. I believe in truth and honor, and I will always work to defend my country, but I can’t do it here. I can’t do it with you and your mother. It would put you at too much risk, and that’s the very last thing I want.’
Truth and honor. Where had she heard that before? From Nathan’s lips. The lips that had kissed her so roughly, sought out every part of her, inside and out. She felt sick and panicked, overwhelmed by nausea.
‘Claire,’ Rick said as he reached for her hands.
‘I don’t want you to go, Daddy. Please,’ she begged, ‘don’t leave me again.’
Forty-One
She didn’t know how long he’d held her. He’d moved around the table and knelt beside her and cradled her against his body, rocking her slowly as she sobbed. But then, when her crying had subsided, he had kissed her, and then he’d left. She would never see him again.
She was exhausted, wrung out, and emotionally drained. She just wanted to lie down somewhere, go to sleep, then when she woke up, she wanted all that had happened to be nothing more than a terrible dream.
How long were they going to keep her here? She’d been debriefed now. After her father had left, she’d told the woman in the Audrey Dupont skirt everything she knew about what had happened. The names of the terrorists, what they looked like—at least what she could remember before the hood went on—what had happened, how she’d been treated, what they’d said, how they had beaten Nathan. No one had said his name. No one apart from her father had acknowledged what had happened to him. It was like he hadn’t existed, that he had been some figment of her imagination.
The door opened again, and she moved in her chair until she felt the back of it firm against her shoulder blades. She raised her eyes to see who it was. Her mother.
Autumn dropped her eyes again and clasped her hands together, counting each finger in turn.
Alison put a file on the table then sat in the chair next to her, the chair Rick had brought round to sit in and comfort her. It was too close. Unnaturally close for her mother.
‘I won’t ask any stupid questions,’ she said. ‘I expect you’ve had enough of those from that Priya girl. I have no idea how she got a job here. Actually, no, I take that back. Given her glossy black hair and figure, I know exactly how she got a job here.’ She adjusted her skirt and crossed her legs.
Autumn raised her eyes to meet her mother’s. She had no energy left to feel anything for her. She felt paralyzed.
‘You should come and live with me. I was thinking about altering the second bedroom anyway. It’s been over a year since it was last decorated. We can have a look at some designs together. I was thinking of taupe, but maybe you have another idea.’ Alison played nervously with her hands in an action that almost mirrored Autumn.
‘Live with you?’ The words came out in a hoarse voice, only just audible.
‘Yes, well, I know all about what that awful PA did to you, and that terrible boyfriend of yours, DJ Doggy, or whatever he was called. Cheating on you, plotting to kidnap you for money. They’re being held by the police, being charged with organizing your record producer’s murder.’
A glimmer of gladness washed over her brain, just enough to make her care slightly more about what her mother was talking about. ‘Have they caught the man that shot him?’ Autumn whispered.
‘Not yet, but it’s only a matter of time before your ex-friends start giving up names. They are going to be doing some time in prison. There’s no doubt about that.’
Autumn managed a nod then let out a chesty cough. When was her last drink? She had turned down coffee earlier, and the bottle of water on the table was empty. Suddenly, her throat felt as dry as sandpaper.
‘Shall I get you a drink? Have you eaten? I tell you, the service in this place has gone downhill. And you’re not even a suspect! I expect the suspects are on their third martini by now,’ Alison continued.
‘I saw Dad,’ Autumn said, tears welling up in her eyes.
‘I know, I saw him, too.’
Alison took hold of her hands and held them in hers.
‘We won’t see him again, will we?’ Autumn asked.
‘No. Not unless there’s another “situation”, and I hope there won’t be.’
Autumn could see her mother was holding in her feelings like the consummate professional politician, but the sentiment was there all the same, bubbling up inside her, threatening to expose her as a human being.
‘It must have been hard for you,’ Autumn said.
With those words hanging in the air, Alison burst. Down went the hardened exterior, followed by an outpouring of grief that Autumn hadn’t been prepared for. Her mother sobbed, her mouth open, her eyes gushing with tears, her arms curled around her stomach as if she was holding herself together.
Autumn reached out to hold her shoulders. ‘Oh, Mother.’
Alison shook her head and tried to restore some of her composure, searching the pockets of her jacket for a tissue. Autumn put her hand out. In it was her father’s handkerchief. She pressed the cotton fabric into Alison’s hand.
‘I can’t imagine how hard it must have been for you,’ Autumn said. ‘The things I said before were mean and cruel. I was just thinking about myself because I thought everyone knew and I didn’t. But you’ve lived seventeen years without a husband.’
Alison only managed a nod and dabbed at her eyes with the handkerchief.
‘Why did you push me away?’ Autumn asked.
‘I shouldn’t have, but I didn’t know what else to do. When I found out your father had to go, I felt as if someone had cut my heart
