The journey from London City airport to Hampstead Heath was straightforward. The taxi pulled up in front of Rafi’s old flat at 7.45 p.m. They stood in the passageway by the front door to the flats. It was the first time he’d been back since that fateful February morning. It seemed such a long time ago now, but he was still uneasy standing there; too many vivid and painful memories flooded through his mind. He had hoped that returning to his flat would help him to slay the ghosts of the past. It certainly gave him the creeps.
Rafi pressed the bell. Saara answered. ‘Do come in.’
The door buzzed and opened. They entered. As they climbed the stairs, Rafi recalled his conversation with Kate, on their return from Cornwall, about where he might live. She had been surprised when he had asked if he could move in with her.
‘But my flat is bound to be nothing like as nice as yours. Jeremy tells me that they’ve done a good job in putting it back together again!’ she had said.
‘Your flat has nice memories – mine has too many ghosts,’ had been his reply.
They arrived outside the front door of his old apartment. Rafi knocked. It sounded different, very solid. The door opened and there in front of him was his little sister, looking very grown-up.
‘Come in, come in. Sorry about the chaos. We only just beat you here! Steve is dying to meet you, Kate.’
‘Hi there, I’m Steve,’ he said, cheerily as he appeared from the kitchen. Great to meet you at last, Kate. Can I get you a drink? A cup of tea… or something stronger?’
‘Tea would be nice,’ replied Kate, as she and Rafi walked through to the sitting room-cum-dining room.
Rafi saw that his minimalist decor had been replaced by an eclectic mix of furniture and paintings. Saara and Steve’s clutter was everywhere. Paperwork spread from the table, across the floor and on to the windowsill. It gave the place an untidy but lived-in feel.
Rafi looked at their faces. Their smiles said it all.
‘We thought that, if it was fine by you, we would eat out at your favourite Chinese restaurant. Mr Cheung is looking forward to seeing you. He says his turnover has hit wock bottom since you moved away!’
‘Sounds perfect,’ grinned Rafi.
‘Let me show you around,’ offered Saara. ‘The MI5 people arranged for the redecorating and the new steel front door. They said your old one had been sold for matchsticks!’
Rafi and Kate followed Saara into the spare bedroom. The pictures on the walls he recognised from her bedroom in their parents’ house and the duvet cover from her house in Birmingham. The bed and curtains were new and very John Lewis.
‘Kate, if you need anything when you’re getting changed, please shout,’ said Saara.
Rafi looked into the bathroom. He recalled the conversation with a man from MI5, apologising about all his furniture and personal effects. He now saw what he had meant. Everything had been replaced.
‘Come on – come and see what Steve and I have done to our bedroom,’ said Saara excitedly.
Kate and Rafi were ushered along the corridor and up the small staircase. Shambolic would have been a good word to describe the look of their room. Cluttered could have been an alternative.
‘Isn’t this great?’ beamed Saara. ‘So much floor space! Knocks our old house in Brum into a cocked hat!’
Rafi looked at Saara and noticed she looked a little apprehensive.
‘It’s been a hectic day. We prayed that your flight would be delayed, so we could have done a little tidying up.’
Rafi walked over to Saara and gave her a big hug. ‘It’s great. I’m pleased you enjoy living here. You should see Kate’s flat,’ he added with a wry smile. At which point he received a sharp dig in the ribs.
Saara looked at her watch. ‘Mr Cheung is expecting us in half an hour. And Rafi, thank you – Steve and I love it here.’
Before leaving Saara’s bedroom, Rafi walked over to the window and looked out. The Heath could be seen to the left and central London was in the distance. Rafi glanced down at the road. His heart missed a beat. There, in the evening shadows opposite, was the dark form of a large Mercedes car. Haunting memories rushed back. Kate, who was standing nearby, sensed his apprehension.
‘Seen an old ghost?’
‘Sort of,’ he replied.
‘We should be going soon,’ came a shout from downstairs. ‘We don’t want to keep Mr Cheung waiting, do we?’
Thirty minutes later, after a quick wash and change, they were standing in front of the restaurant. Saara was at Rafi’s side.
‘You first, big Bro.’
He opened the door. The sight that met his eyes stopped him in his tracks. There, standing in front of him, were John and Jeremy. To their left were Aidan, Emma and the doctor and his wife from Newquay. He looked around the room. It seemed that everyone was there. The commissioner was in deep conversation with Ewan at a corner table. The brigadier and Colonels Turner and Gray were talking to an elderly gentleman whose back was to Rafi. Suddenly it dawned on him; it was his grandfather’s back. He looked across to the other side of the room and saw Kate’s brother. He glimpsed Kate’s parents sitting down, looking very proper, with Air Chief Marshal Sir Nigel Hawser and the back of someone he couldn’t quite place. Ah yes, it was Donald Hollingsworth, and next to him was Kate’s former boss, David. He looked around again; to try and take in all the faces.
Rafi walked across the threshold and was greeted by a cheer. Mr Cheung, appeared as if out of thin air. ‘Mr Khan, so pleased to see you this evening. No takeaway tonight, I think?’ he said with a chuckle.
‘I thought we were going out for a quiet supper,’ Rafi said in amazement to Saara. ‘How on earth did you manage to arrange something so big and keep it a secret?’
Saara grinned. ‘It wasn’t easy!’
Jeremy stuck out his hand which Rafi shook energetically.
‘What a surprise meeting you here,’ he said with a broad smile stretching almost from ear to ear. ‘I had a devil of a problem travelling on the same plane as you without being spotted! Good training, eh? When Saara told me what she and her boss, the Chancellor, had planned for your party, I couldn’t resist hopping on a plane. Oh, I forgot, the PM, the Defence Secretary and the Chancellor of the Exchequer send their apologies. They’ve got a meeting which is running late, but they should be here in half an hour.’
‘You’re joking. They are not really coming, are they?’ asked Rafi.
‘’Fraid so. It seems the Chancellor reckons you deserved a proper thank you – it looks as if you’re going to have yourself some party! Better be on your best behaviour!’ said Jeremy with a grin.
‘What can I get you?’ asked John. ‘Champagne?’
Rafi looked at Kate, who had started to shift into party mode. Her eyes sparkled and she looked fantastic in her summer dress.
‘As this is a very special occasion, champagne would be great, please.’
As if by magic two glasses arrived.
Rafi gave Kate a kiss. ‘Isn’t this fantastic? Did you know anything about this?’
‘Honestly, no. But I should have guessed something was in the wind given the strange phone calls I’ve been getting from Saara and Emma over the past few weeks!’
‘How’s about we circulate? See you in a bit,’ said Rafi.
The evening went by far too fast – so many people to talk to and lots of news to take on board. As Rafi worked his way around the large room, he came across a few faces he didn’t recognise. The retired commander and his wife, their two daughters, the SBS boyfriends and the two SAS soldiers were on good form recalling their escapade and their close call with the Moroccan Air Force.