‘The true aim is to alter the human genome to survive under a toxic sky, as two species; the new homo-superiors, in reality, the homo-predators and what is left of a successful depopulation strategy—the genetically engineered and chipped slaves. The agenda in a nutshell is the quest for godhood, to live for hundreds of years and rule with unchallenged domination.’
‘Do we do nothing at all about it, then?’
‘What do you want to do, Sugar? Tell everyone? They would only brand you a fruitcake or a conspiracy nut. It is as I told Lana: what you fight you become. Are the Inquisitors better than the witches they burnt? The real battle is inside you. If every single person on earth refused to lift a gun, propel a drone, hurt another human being in the name of democracy, or ‘freedom’, or whatever shit they call their murderous ways, this world would be a paradise.’
Finally, I understand the confusion and vulnerability Lana had shown in her notes. I am afraid. Hold me, I want to say, but I don’t because I don’t want to taint my happiness. No, no, I won’t react now. I will think of it all tomorrow. I can unravel it then. Tomorrow is another day. Now I will just love this man with all my heart.
Still, I must have looked mournful for he caresses my cheek, and says, ‘The only thing we can really do is live our life to its fullest. We may be among the last of the humans to live and die on this world.’
I smile softly up at him, relieved that he is not Blake. He doesn’t have to constantly watch his back. Lana is braver than I. I don’t know if I have the strength to risk my man to machinations of sinister men like Monfort.
In the car I call Lana. She sounds sleepy. ‘Don’t go swimming alone after you turn thirty,’ I tell her.
For a moment there is silence. Then she gets it and there is bubble of laughter. ‘Oh! wonderful. I’m so pleased. Is he with you now?’
‘Yup.’
‘OK, tell me everything later, but we go out to dinner next week.’
‘That will be brilliant.’
‘Speak to you soon, babe.’
‘Lana?’
‘Yeah.’
‘I love you, you know.’
‘We were always meant to be sisters.’
Lana Barrington
Invictus
(Unconquerable)
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.
I end the call and smile. Stretching deeply I roll over and bury my face in Blake’s pillow. Ah! The smell of my darling’s head. It’s Sunday. The chef has his day off and Blake makes breakfast, I cook lunch, and we order in, or go out for dinner. Early Sunday morning is Blake’s time with Sorab. I lift my head and hit the button for Kitchen on the baby monitor. Blake’s voice is tinny on the monitor. He has no idea that I often lie in bed listening to his monologs. Crazy guy, he is talking to his fifteen-month-old son about his business deals.
I look at the time. It is still too early to call Billie.
I am dying to hear what happened between her and Jaron Rose. He surprised me. Billie had described a man she found in a club where everyone was off their cakes on drugs, and given me to believe that he was a rough and ready lad, who had taken her to an unremarkable, badly furnished flat, but the Jaron Rose who came to the exhibition was dressed in expensive clothes, hand-made shoes and spoke in a posh voice. And when he spoke to me he had come across as highly educated and suave. In fact, he was so sophisticated, charming and mysterious, he reminded me of James Bond. As if he might have been a debonair spy or something.
‘So what do you do, Mr. Rose?’
‘Please, you must call me Jaron.’
‘Jaron.’
‘Property,’ he said with a knowing smile. ‘I buy and sell property.’
‘Is the market good at the moment?’
‘Dazzling.’
He was so smooth and debonair that for the life of me I could not imagine a man such as him going to a club like Fridge and picking up girls with spider tattoos running up their necks. He was also with someone, a woman who draped herself possessively around his broad chest and looked daggers at Billie when she was introduced, but I saw him before Billie did, and the look in his face. He looked, as Billie would describe it, as if someone had pushed a cattle prod up his ass. And what of that fire of wild joy that briefly lit his eyes. He took Billie’s hand and held it for seconds longer than polite society required. Enough to pass on its own message.
‘It’s been a long time.’
‘Has it?’ Billie replied coolly.
‘Sometimes you win the lottery and lose the ticket.’
‘Faint heart never won fuck all,’ Billie retorted sweetly.
‘Introduce me, darling,’ the woman with him urged. Her voice was honeyed but there was a warning there, a deadly one. I am absolutely certain it said, ‘Behave.’
A shadow passed over his eyes. For a second he looked like a damned soul. ‘Of course, darling. This is the inimitable Billie. Billie, meet my fiancée, Ebony.’
‘Charmed, I’m sure,’ Ebony said sweetly, but her eyes clearly said, this is my turf. Go away. Get your own.
I get out of bed, brush my teeth quickly and go down the stairs. Every time I come down these fantastically grand stairs I almost cannot believe that I live here. That this is my house. That it is actually in my name. I cross the marble floor and make for the kitchen.
Sorab is sitting in his high chair and watching his father with big eyes. Blake is beating eggs. They both turn to look at me at the same time and my heart swells with pride. My beautiful boys.
First I kiss my son. ‘Good morning, darling,’ I say, then I go up to Blake and kiss him. ‘I love you so much.’
‘Show me how much?’
‘I’m not dislocating my arms this early in the morning.’
He laughs.
‘Lana.’
We both turn towards Sorab and then look at each other with astonished faces.
‘Did he just say “Lana”?’ Blake asks.
I laugh excitedly. ‘I can’t believe it. Other children start with babbling and my son calls me by my name.’
I go to Sorab and put my face level with his. ‘Mummy,’ I say.
‘Lana,’ he repeats loudly.
‘Stubborn little thing, aren’t you?’ I pick him up, all warm and sweet-smelling and nuzzle him. He smells of milk. One day this smell will be gone. I dread that day. ‘Julie called. Good news. Vann and she seem to have ironed out their differences.’
Blake cuts a bit of butter and puts it into the pan on the stove. ‘You think it’s a good match, don’t you?’
‘Made in heaven. What are we doing today?’
‘Feel like doing a bit of sunbathing?’
I put Sorab back into his high chair. ‘What?’
‘We are going to the Île de Groix for the weekend.’
‘Since when? I’m not prepared.’
‘All you need is a bikini and some toiletries. Gerry will meet us in the plane in two hours. Tom will be here in an hour.’
‘Are you serious?’
‘I never kid about important things.’
I shake my head in wonder.
‘Come on. It’ll be fun.’
‘Do you ever wonder what life would have been like for you if Rupert had not taken me to that restaurant that night?’
He shudders. ‘Don’t even go there.’
I walk up to him and push my body up against his. His reaction is instant.
‘You’re hard!’
‘And you’re wet!’
‘What’re you going to do about it, then?’
‘You’ll see, after I’ve charmed you with langoustines and champagne and when you’re on your back on the sand, the sun beating down on your naked body, and the waves lapping against your legs.’