“Possibly, but that’s the beauty of life. You get one crack at it, if you make mistakes, then you have to learn from them and just keep on going. Regret is a luxury few of us can afford, so one makes the best of what one has, whether one has made the right decisions or wrong ones. We have no one to blame but ourselves, and that’s what so sad, when people spend all their time looking for someone else to blame for their own mistakes and foolishness.”
“Sometimes others are to blame for things going wrong,” I pointed out, thinking of my own situation. “I mean, I don’t blame anyone for having to resign my commission, as I made a choice to do what I did, so I have to live with the consequences. But here, when things went wrong, I don’t believe that was all my fault, and the fact I got no help at all from those who could help really hurt. I admit that I should have done more preparation, but I was limited by time constraints.”
“I agree, and in those cases they should be called to account. I accept a measure of responsibility for what happened to you, and I hope that I’ve made up for it, in part. I realise I can never return the time you spent behind bars and neither can I undo the pain and suffering that you experienced. I have to live with those things, but for the most part people tend to deny responsibility and attempt to shift blame.”
I couldn’t disagree. It was a very different meal, as we talked of many things, some of them deep and meaningful, while others just gave each more understanding of the other. I warmed to Maryanne, as she let down her guard to let me closer. I guessed she seldom did such a thing, so felt quite privileged.
“If it’s any consolation, I did blame you, but I think I have forgiven you now. You’ve gone to enormous trouble and expense over me, not all of it is guilt, why?” I asked.
“I like you,” she said. “I did from the moment I met you, as you reminded me of me at the same age. I never had children, so, in a funny sort of way, I see you as the daughter I never had, particularly as I have to teach you how to be a woman. I also believe that you have a future in this business.”
“What business is that, Mummy dearest, burglary or undergoing surgical procedures?” I asked, with a little sarcasm dripping off my words.
She laughed, appearing relaxed in my company.
“That’s another thing I like about you, your quirky sense of humour and total lack of respect. We relate to each other like a parent and child, not as two strangers. Actually, I meant the information business. Whether you like it or not, you do need a job, so I believe I can find you one.”
“Like fashion reporter?” I asked sarcastically.
“Believe it or not, you’ve shown remarkable promise in that field, so you never know.”
“I’d rather not. I don’t think I’ve a future there. I don’t mind bullshitting for a couple of days, but I’m not cut out for a long career in the fashion world.”
“Hmm, if it’s any consolation, I don’t disagree, but I do have an idea where you will be better suited. Your special talents will be more appropriate in areas more closely connected to those things with which you are familiar.”
“You mean blood and guts?”
She laughed again.
“You’re a soldier, regardless of what you look like and what clothes you wear, your training and experience are what makes you what you are. I value that, so we can use that experience in a more positive way than simple warfare Think of the possibilities, a trained soldier that looks like a fashion model.”
“Firstly, warfare isn’t simple, and secondly, I’m not model standard,” I said, making her chuckle.
“I agree to both of those, but you know what I mean. The collection and careful dissemination of intelligence and information is the most important aspect of any potential conflict situation. I’m not sure how many wars my organisation has prevented, but I think we’ve saved many thousands of lives,” she said.
“By playing one off the other?”
“Don’t knock it, because sometimes it works more effectively than supporting one with military aid and advisers; look at Vietnam a few decades ago.”
“So, where do I fit in?”
“I want you to work alone on assignments of my choosing. You’ll be answerable only to me, and if necessary you can call on any of our resources to assist. I promise that you’ll never face incarceration again; neither will you face too much danger. Mistakes were made, and I will never let you take a fall like that again.”
“Too much danger? Does that mean a little danger is acceptable?”
“Come on, Julianna, you know you relish a challenge, what’s life without just a little spice?”
She called me Julianna and I didn’t register it immediately. I realised that Robert was completely dead now.
“When do I start?” I asked.
“You already have,” she replied, smiling.
Chapter Thirteen
After my recuperation period and having accepted Maryanne’s offer, she’d left me at the airport as she caught a flight to New York and I flew out of Vietnam direct to London, truly on my own for the first time in ages.
That was so weird. In fact, both being alone and being in London was weird.
It was autumn in England, so as usual it was raining and the world looked bleak and unwelcoming. I didn’t feel as if I was coming home. I landed at Heathrow in the early morning and as I stood in the queue for non-UK passport holders, I worked out that I’d been in Britain for only a few weeks over the last five years, and this was my first time back after just over a year. The last time I’d been here was as a disgraced army officer with reporters camped outside my flat.
The Immigration officer who checked my passport was a bored Indian wearing a turban.
“What is your purpose for coming to the UK?” he asked in heavily accented English, flicking through my passport.
“I’m just here for a few days, so hope to see some sights before heading back to Canada,” I said, the Canadian accent second nature to me now.
He seemed interested in some of the stamps in the passport, which was amusing as I hadn’t a clue where it said I’d been, having only used it to get from Thailand to Vietnam and now to here.
He can’t have been put off, as he stamped me in and handed the passport back, already looking at his next customer.
I had no home to go to in London anymore. In fact, I didn’t know very many people and those who did know me, knew me as Robert and not who I now was. Besides, most would probably not want to know me in any case. After I collected my case and dragged it on its little wheels out of reclaim, through Customs and into the arrivals hall, it was somewhat a surprise to see someone I knew scanning the crowd of arriving passengers.
I smiled slightly, as this wasn’t the scenario I’d ever imagined in which we meet for the second time. I waited a moment, just to see if she was meeting anyone else. She seemed unsure exactly who she was meeting, as she looked at anyone who was roughly my age and size, both males and females.
I walked over to her.
“Excusez-moi, mais peut-être vous cherchez me?” I asked in French.
Sarah stared at me, losing her cool and collected look as her jaw dropped. Automatically she started a denial, but then stopped.