Blake’s father is true to his evil. The Independent and the Guardian are the first to report that the CEO of the International Monetary Fund, Sebastian Straus Khan, has been implicated in a scandal. A Burmese maid working at a hotel in New York has accused him of rape. He has been apprehended at the airport. The BBC runs the story at lunchtime. By evening every TV channel is running the story. There appears to be no investigation. Simply a story that is repeated almost word for word by all the different news feeds. Each one gleefully convinced of his crime.
That night when Blake comes home, I have painted my face and dressed in the sexiest outfit Fleur sent. The tight pink leather pants that Billie said, made my bum look all trapped and ripe and in need of rescuing, and a little top that leaves my shoulders and back bare.
His eyes light up. ‘Wow, what’s the occasion?’ he breathes against my ear.
‘We’re not spending the night here,’ I tell him. ‘I’ve booked us into The Ritz.’
He smiles slowly. He has no idea. Inside I am dying. It is our last night together, a night I will never forget. We have dinner, I taste nothing, and then we go upstairs. There is champagne waiting in a silver bucket. I did not order it. Compliments of the house. I don’t drink. I don’t want anything to be fuzzy. I want to remember every last detail.
That night I am insatiable.
Again and again we make love until he says to me, ‘Go to sleep, Lana, I don’t want you falling ill on me again.’ Even then I reach down and take his big, beautiful penis in my mouth and mumble, ‘Use me for your pleasure. You have paid for this.’
And he looks deep into my eyes and says, ‘Consider the debt paid in full.’ The irony stabs me in the heart. He has no idea.
When morning arrives, I pull him close and whisper, ‘I love you. I’ll always love you.’
And when he is leaving, he says, his voice husky with emotion, ‘I’ll miss you terribly until I see you again…tonight.’
And I almost break down. He will never see me again. Tears blur my eyes.
‘Hey,’ he calls very softly. ‘Nothing can keep us apart.’
A sob breaks through. He does not understand.
When he is dressed and leaving, I hold on tight. He looks at me with strong, sure eyes. ‘Nothing can keep us apart,’ he says again. And then the door closes behind him and I sink to the ground. I cry as if I will break apart. When I am all cried out on the floor of The Ritz hotel, I rise numb, but ready. This is for him and Sorab. This will keep them both safe. I get into the lift, between my legs sore and the tips of my breasts singing from being sucked and bitten all night. Tom is waiting in the lobby for me. My thick coat is folded over his arm.
‘Mr. Barrington had me get this from the apartment for you. It’s a cold morning.’
Again I am struck by how carefully and thoroughly Blake’s mind works. Always he is one step ahead. Except for the most important thing of all. I take off my light coat and get into the coat Tom has brought for me. I turn my head and notice a man looking at me. Our eyes meet. He does not drop his. I look away. The world has changed for me. A few months back I would have assumed that he found me attractive; now I am not certain if he has not been paid to watch me.
Outside an icy wind hits me. I am glad for the coat.
In the car I stare out of the window. I am actually in a state of shock. The thought of leaving Blake is so painful I refuse to think about it. It is almost as if I am on autopilot. There is an accident ahead and Tom takes the longer route through South Kensington. We pass an old church. The door is ajar and I jerk forward.
‘Stop the car, Tom.’
Tom brings the car to a stop by the side of the road.
‘I’m just going into that church.’
Tom looks at me worriedly. ‘I can’t park here.’
‘I won’t be long,’ I say, and quickly slip out of the car. I go through the Gothic wooden doors, and it is as if I have stepped into another dimension. It is cool and hushed, the sound of the street outside strained out. The stonework is beautiful. I see the holy water, but I do not cross myself with it as my mother used to. I follow the gleam of candles into the belly of the church. There is no one else there. My footsteps echo in the soaring space. I go to the front of the church and sit on a wooden pew.
I close my eyes. I don’t know why I came here. I don’t believe in God. God has done nothing for me. All he has ever done is take and take and take every fucking thing I’ve ever had. I feel so incredibly sad and defeated I wish I did not have to leave this quiet sanctuary. Hot tears are pricking the backs of my eyes. Life is so unfair.
Suddenly there is a gust of cold air. I open my eyes and look around. There is no one there. A draft? And then I have the strange sensation that my mother is there with me. I stand.
‘Mum?’ I call out.
My voice sounds strange and loud in that empty space.
‘Mum,’ I call out again, this time more desperately.
Nothing. I sit down again and close my eyes and presently the sensation returns that my mother is with me. The sensation soothes me. ‘I love you, Mum,’ I whisper. ‘You left me too quickly. I never even had a chance to say goodbye.’
A feeling of peace settles on me. There are no words to describe the sensation. A timeless moment and I don’t know how long I sit there. It is only the sound of footsteps that rouses me. I look behind me. Tom is standing by one of the pillars at the entrance. I stand up and go to him.
We walk silently to the car. There is a yellow parking ticket stuck to the windshield.
‘Sorry,’ I say.
‘Laura will take care of it. My instructions are clear.’
We get into the car and Tom drives me to Billie’s.
‘Can we take a small walk down by the canal?’ I say to her.
‘What’s wrong?’
I put a finger on my lips. ‘I just fancy a walk.’
‘All right,’ she says, frowning.
‘It’s cold outside. Wear your coat.’
She takes her coat and follows me. When we are in the bracing air I tell her everything. Sometimes she will come to a sudden stop and stare at me mouth agape, and then I will take her arm into the crook of mine and we will continue on our path. I have never seen Billie look so white or totally robbed of her trademark wisecracks. It serves to highlight just how shocked I must be to be able to act so normally.
After the walk I kiss Billie’s stunned face goodbye, and she pulls me hard against her body as if she could pass me some of her strength. Both of us know exactly how to contact each other. She is blinking back the tears.
‘Be safe,’ she calls as I push Sorab away from her.
Then I go home to await my next instructions.
When the call comes I leave my cellphone on the dining table and push the pram out to the front. I wave to Mr. Nair and he looks at me with confusion. I know that only a few minutes ago he must have seen my look-alike push an identical pram out of the door, perhaps to the coffee shop where she will have cake and coffee. Just outside the front door a car is waiting for me. A man jumps out of the front seat. I take Sorab out of his pram.
He holds open the back door while I slip into it. When I am settled in, he closes it with a gentle click. He folds the pram quickly, stores it in the boot, and gets into the front seat. Not a word has been exchanged by any of us. The car pulls away.
I think of my lookalike. She must have reached the patisserie by now. She has probably finished with her slice of cake. I imagine she must be an actress. Paid to play a part and then disappear. She will probably push her pram back into the building. Perhaps Blake’s father has another flat where she can drop off the pram and effect a change of clothing. A hat, a scarf, a wig, before she exits the building forever.