Roman grimaced tightly at Jean-Paul. ‘We’ll just have to wait and see which way he finally jumps.’
‘If there was any way to avoid sending you back, I would, Lorena. But there’s nowhere left for me to go with this. Can’t you see that?’
‘Yes, I… I suppose I can.’ Lorena eyes flickered down and she bit lightly at her bottom lip.
The first acceptance, perhaps even a shade of guilt at the trouble she’d caused. But it had been a tough few hours to get there, Elena contemplated.
Lorena had heard her on the phone and at first thought of running away. She went out of the mall and got as far as sixty yards down St Catherine St before the confusion of people and traffic passing made her realize that she’d be lost and alone in a strange city. She returned to the mall and stood inside a shop doorway, trembling, trying to frantically think of what else she might do. She could just see Elena from where she was, but was careful to duck inside the shop when Elena turned. Then, as Elena appeared about to give up and go, she rushed over and clutched on to her and burst into tears, saying she was sorry, sorry, sorry. Between the tears she explained what had happened and begged and pleaded for Elena not to send her back tomorrow.
The display took all the steam out of Elena’s anger. All she did was wipe away Lorena’s tears, order a coffee for them both and sit Lorena down and try and calmly explain her dilemma.
But Lorena was practically beyond consolation. ‘Mr Ryall will be angry with me… much worse than before. I can’t go back now.’
Elena reasoned and cajoled, but Lorena clung on obstinately, still pleading and panicked at the thought of having to face Ryall again. And in the end all Elena could think of to break through was being dramatic.
‘You don’t understand, Lorena. If I don’t send you back to England tomorrow, I’m going to jail for this.’
‘But that tape. I thought that was to help you… so that you wouldn’t get into trouble.’
‘Yes, that helped us for the last few days. But after tomorrow, that won’t help anymore. And they could send me to jail for a long while, Lorena. You wouldn’t want that would you?’
‘No… no, I wouldn’t.’
Watching the heavy shadows in Lorena’s eyes as she looked away awkwardly — torn between her own very real fear and getting Elena into such serious trouble — Elena felt immediately guilty using such tactics. But she hadn’t seen much choice.
She’d had to break off to make her call to Claude Donatiens. Claude said that the officer he’d spoken to, Michel Chenouda, was non-committal, but at least had said he’d contact her; he hadn’t closed the door straight away.
Elena was suddenly apprehensive when Claude said he’d passed on her details. She’d hoped to just be given a number, have that option of whether or not to brave making contact. Now that had been taken from her grasp; probably best, she might have balked and never made that final move. But she was nervous that now the police had her name and where she was staying, they could already be checking her out. She could return to the hotel to find it ringed by police cars with their beacons flashing.
Both her and Lorena were silent heading back to the hoteclass="underline" her worried about impending arrest, Lorena about returning to Ryall.
There’d been no flashing lights at the hotel, but Elena had been too tense waiting on Chenouda’s call to talk much about Lorena’s concerns. She’d just placated that Lorena shouldn’t worry so, they’d sort something out.
‘We’ll go for something to eat and talk then.’
Chenouda’s call had been a non-event after the level of anticipation and panic she’d worked herself up to: all he did was confirm with her the details Claude Donatiens had passed on to him, then suggest that they should meet and talk fully at eleven-thirty the next day. He gave her an address on Dorchester Boulevard and asked that she bring her passport and all relevant paperwork regarding her son.
But soon after putting down the phone, she began to panic how on earth she was going to face walking into a police station, right into the lion’s den!
They found a restaurant on St Denis that had a special on lobsters, and Elena talked Lorena into trying one as a change from pizza.
‘If this meeting doesn’t work out tomorrow, I’ll be heading back with you.’ Elena was still throwing across everything she could to reassure. Lorena had earlier looked concerned when she’d explained that if she was staying on, all she could do was walk Lorena into the nearest British embassy and give them the Ryall’s details; they’d have to arrange transport back for her. Anything to meet the deadline. ‘I don’t think much will come of it, so you’ll probably end up with my company.’
The shadows only eased from Lorena’s eyes a fraction. Elena once again opted for dramatics to shift Lorena’s mood. She decided to open up more about her son, explain why tomorrow was so important to her.
‘I said that I hadn’t seen him in a while, but I lied. Truth is, I’ve never seen him since he was born. I was very young when I became pregnant… and my father gave him away to another family. I was given no choice in the matter.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Lorena said, appearing confused for a second how else to respond. ‘You missed him a lot?’
‘Yes… very much.’ And now I don’t know if I’ll ever get to see him again. She blinked slowly, but suddenly there were no more welling tears: the see-saw events of the past forty-eight hours, the valerian pills and her mounting tiredness had battered her senses numb. Sometimes she felt completely empty of emotions, little more than a hollow shell. Or was it simply a protective barrier so that any new shock wouldn’t send her reeling and rip her insides out? She was finally battle-hardened for the worst.
‘Was he cruel, your father?’
‘No… just very strict. Impossibly strict.’
‘So he wasn’t someone for you to be afraid of — like Mr Ryall?’
‘No, I suppose not.’ Elena smiled wanly as she made the concession. She’d raised it as a trump card, but Lorena had deftly slipped it back in the deck where it belonged. Of course, she had been afraid of her father; but that suddenly put it all in perspective: if Lorena’s claims had substance, Lorena had a real fear to face.
Suddenly Lorena was once again the frightened little girl reaching out a hand for help from the back of Nicola Ryall’s Range Rover. And whatever rationale Elena threw across, she knew that she could never shift the lingering fear in Lorena’s eyes. Jail sentence or not, in the end she just didn’t think she could face sending Lorena back to Ryall tomorrow.
Another restless night.
Elena had been hoping finally to get a good night’s sleep. She was so exhausted and so keen to make the right impression for her big day tomorrow. Get rid of the blood-shots in her eyes and steady her nerves, hopefully not come across how she felt: haggard, desperate, at her wit’s end. There’s no way this half-crazed woman is getting to see him.
But, perversely, the worry about how the day might go kept her thoughts churning; and now she still had Lorena to worry about. She’d hoped to at least put that to rest. All she’d said in the end was for Lorena not to worry, she didn’t think that she could send her back. ‘We’ll try and sort something out tomorrow.’ Left that small gap open in case finally there was no choice. Sometimes she wished that she were arrested so that she didn’t have to make the decision. It was frustrating. She’d set her game-plan, was almost there in convincing Lorena, getting her to accept — then suddenly she’d been slam-dunked at the last moment.
The problem was, which was the right Lorena? Had Lorena purely stumbled on hitting the right chord about her father through a child’s naive bluntness, or had she planned it — her street-wiliness showing through? Was Lowndes right that Lorena had formed an unnatural attachment to her and this was all just a cry for attention, to grab back some of their old bond together? In which case Lorena must have planned everything practically from the start.