‘Wonderful. Your husband is trying to kill me with an overdose of cholesterol,’ he joked. ‘And I confess it’s the best of deaths.’ A sign he’d eaten and drunk well in his life.
Raul said nothing. He hadn’t expected his wife there, much less in quiet conversation with the old man. But JC had a gift for making others admire him. Looking like a frail old man helped.
‘Are you all right?’ She was the one who asked. It seemed the old man also had a gift for resolving conflicts between husband and wife.
‘I’m better now,’ Raul confessed, passing his hand tenderly over her shoulder.
The phone finally rang, startling Raul and Elizabeth. Raul ran to it before the caller could disconnect.
‘Raul,’ he identified himself with a hysterical cry. He listened without saying anything and closed his eyes. ‘Thanks,’ was the first thing he said when the speaker stopped talking. ‘Thank you very much,’ the second. ‘I have complete confidence in you. I know it’s not going to be easy. You have half the world after you, so be very cautious. Call tonight so we can work out a plan. And thanks again.’
The conversation ended with a press of the button of Raul’s phone.
‘What? Who was it?’ Elizabeth asked impatiently.
‘Rafael. She’s with him.’ A smile from ear to ear. ‘She’s fine. She couldn’t talk because she was sleeping. But she’s okay. That’s what’s important.’
Elizabeth looked at JC, remembering his prophetic foresight minutes ago.
‘This is just a pause, my dear. Nothing’s resolved,’ the old man warned her.
‘Yes, but it’s something,’ Raul said.
‘Where are they?’ the mother asked, visibly relieved of the weight that was crushing her heart.
‘In a safe place,’ Raul replied with a smile. ‘A very safe place.’
41
She remembered parking in the garage of a house, but it seemed like ages ago. There was a car in the same garage, also deja vu. He’d asked them all to get into the vehicle. Of course, that was the difference, they were not alone this time, two or three more people were with them. She didn’t bother to count. They left the garage again in this other car, a new car being used for the first time; it had that new car smell. She’d gone into the backseat with one or two others, perhaps only one, thrown her head back and rested. Rocked by the motion of the car being put to the test by the city streets, the passing lights creating a dark, yellow glow, she’d fallen deeply asleep, leaning against a window, and ceased hearing the noise of the engine, the tires on the asphalt, breathing, life going on around her.
She couldn’t tell how long they’d been in the car, minutes or hours, but remembered a light caress in her hair at some part of the trip that made her feel as if she were floating suspended above the ground. She’d opened her eyes a moment and saw herself levitating over some familiar, dark wooden stairs inside a house that made a shiver run down her spine. She felt a body against hers, strong arms around her, and, finally, a soft pillow and sheets shutting out the cold. Voices whispering in the distance she couldn’t make out but one, both close and far away, she managed to understand, Not now, she’s sleeping, before she gave in to the absolute rest of body and mind. Sleep, body, because the fight has only begun. It renewed her energy, relaxed her nerves, cured her wounds, and forced her fear to retreat. After a very few hours, Sarah Monteiro opened her eyes and awoke.
It was already day. Sunshine entered the room between the red curtains. She looked around trying to recognize the place, a large bedroom, antique decor. An enormous dark wooden closet, familiar, took up one whole wall. She sat on the edge of the bed and put her feet on the soft green carpet that covered the wood floor. She risked getting up and brought her hand to her mouth, incredulously. A tear in her eye showed her emotion. This was her room in the old house on Belgrave Road. There wasn’t the slightest doubt. It had been almost a year since she last stayed here. Her uncertain steps made the wood creak from her weight, not that she weighed much, not at all, but it’s natural that such old wood would react to the slightest touch.
‘Good morning.’ She heard Rafael’s voice. He was standing in the door. ‘Better?’
‘What are we doing here?’ she asked sharply.
‘We’re safe. Nobody’s going to look for us here,’ he answered confidently. ‘I have breakfast ready downstairs.’ He left.
‘Whose house is this?’ Sarah had time to ask, raising her voice so he could hear her.
‘Mine,’ she heard him say before his steps told her he was going downstairs.
She was astonished. She took a deep breath and inspected the bedroom. It was the same as she’d left it that night when life spun out of control.
She thought about what Rafael had revealed and decided he’d chosen to give her the easiest answer, the one that needed no more explanation, but he was very mistaken. He wasn’t going to get away so easily.
He had appeared again in her life at a crucial time. This time she wouldn’t be satisfied with an excuse. She wanted to know everything… now.
She left the room impetuously in her night clothes, which were from the previous day, and bumped into the open door of the bathroom. Set across from a clear glass window, a bathtub challenged her decision to go downstairs immediately and demand satisfactory answers. She stopped and decided she might not have another opportunity to take a much-needed bath. Better take advantage now than be sorry later. She returned to the bedroom and opened the closet. She was surprised to recognize the clothes she hadn’t worn since she’d abandoned the house and sold it with the furniture and furnishings to avoid any further contact with that traumatic environment. Now, forced to but also grateful, she chose what to wear from her old clothes. It had to be practical. She picked out pants and a blouse, nothing fancy, took some underwear from the drawer, recovering little by little the habits and gestures the bedroom demanded of her when she lived there, as if she’d never left. All she needed was a towel from the bottom drawer, and she went into the bathroom, delighted by the prospect.
Twenty minutes later Sarah wrapped herself in a towel and left the bathroom, rejuvenated and smiling. Her glance crossed the windowpane, and in an instant she felt a shiver of fear. Two holes like those she’d seen in the Chelsea and Westminster Hospital, before these, that brought back the past and confirmed she was awake. It wasn’t a bad dream — if only it had been. She looked around the room fearfully, much more well-lit in the morning light than on that night. She could see the body of the man fallen over her.
Forget it, forget it. It’s over, she made herself think.
Everything was exactly as she’d left it, which amazed her. She’d left the house a long time ago. It wasn’t normal for some change not to have taken place, especially since she’d only had the most basic furniture for someone who didn’t need much, was at the beginning of her career, and wanted to save money for something better. It was all very strange.
The lower floor consisted of a living room and kitchen. In the living room where the stairs came down was a big sofa, pushed against the wall with a window. Stretched out on it was the friendly older man she still hadn’t been introduced to. In the kitchen, Simon Lloyd, more relaxed, was leaning on a table reading the paper. There was no sign of Rafael.
‘Do you feel better?’ Sarah asked, sitting down on one of the chairs.
‘Oh, good morning.’ He raised his eyes from the newspaper. ‘I’m much better. You?’
‘Not bad,’ she replied, looking around. ‘Yesterday I completely disappeared. Sorry,’ she excused herself.
‘You did well. After the night we spent…’ He changed the subject. ‘Who are these people?’ Simon asked in a whisper, like a child who didn’t want to be caught.