Lesson Learned- Mission Report 1

by G J Stevens

  “Hell, why not?” I said, and we both burst into a fit of laughter.

  Another bottle arrived. We were still laughing as the cork shot over the balcony and on to the teeming dance floor.

  The bottle finished too soon. The night dimmed in my mind. We hardly spoke on the cab ride home, both sleepy, hands held as we leant against each other, rousing only when the driver spoke.

  No payment necessary. Pre-booked and paid.

  I was in her bed, the rest of the night clearing. We’d padded up the stairs, no questions asked, no glance over to the house. My current home.

  We drank water in the darkened, silent kitchen. Closed the bedroom door, watched as we took turns to undress in the soft lamp light. I pulled on a borrowed nightie and slipped into bed. A peck on the lips.

  I remember asking if she knew how to do that thing he did, but sleep came before she tried to answer.

  Panic drained. My eyes rested on the comb and hairbrush at a right angle and I let myself drift back to the darkness.

  17

  The next time I woke, light poured into the room. Alarica, Ally, sat up next to me with a book in her hands. One of my favourites of Lee Child’s. She put it down as she saw me rouse.

  “Good morning,” she said. “How’s the head?”

  “Not bad, better than it was in the night.”

  “What a night,” she exclaimed. I nodded, wiping my hands over my face.

  “To be repeated,” I replied.

  “Soon,” she said; no mention made of my agreement to her proposal. No comment. No wink or nudge. She was all talk and bluster.

  I felt the relief as I changed into a pair of borrowed jeans and a loose t-shirt and headed downstairs, aiming for the door, but not making it before Lenara called my name.

  “Join us for breakfast,” she said, no room in her voice for a negative response.

  I turned and saw the children sat one either side, the table set for six with three spaces. One I filled, the other at my side grabbed by Ally.

  I ate eggs and toast as quick as I could between the small talk; the causal chat about our night out.

  My heart jumped as the front door closed. I looked at Ally, who hadn’t even flinched. Frank came in moments later, dropping the Sunday papers in the middle of the table, complaining about the queue at the shop.

  He said hello as if in surprise at my presence and waved a good morning to Ally.

  Within ten minutes I was out of the door, the food fighting to stay in place because of the speed I’d forced it down and the obstinance of my stomach to take on anything more than a few sips of water. I’d survived the breakfast with no funny looks from Frank or Ally, especially pleased I'd had none from Lenara. I pushed the memories of the night to the back of my mind.

  I returned to the house, grateful to find it empty and soon remembered today was the day of the new family member’s arrival.

  I forced myself into my running gear. I had to clear my head.

  After dumping the breakfast and the last of last night’s drinks a mile or so into the woods, I felt on the way to humanity.

  Another four miles and a long hot shower and I resembled a human again, just in time for the arrival of the three excited new parents and a dog the size of a baby leaving a trail of piss on the wooden floor as it explored its new home.

  Lenart’s eyes fixed on me as he issued his unvoiced command.

  After an hour of following in its wake, the new pup settled down on the sofa with the children, the most I’d seen the siblings together in the main part of the house in the weeks before.

  The next day, the dog found his name, Fuzz, because of the lay of its hair, the tight curls which would flatten out as it grew.

  The week felt as if I was looking after a toddler. Celina helped, but she was no good with clearing up the mess and would get so excited about Fuzz’s cuteness she’d forget all the important things, like keeping things out of its reach and making sure they regularly fed it.

  I think I enjoyed that time, helped because my relationship with Celina had changed. Previously I’d felt like prey stalked by a wild tiger; now we got along more like women of the same age.

  Despite being more reserved than Ally, our connection grew. I found her alone the following Friday after lunch, the kids staying away and Lenart out until late for drinks with people from his company.

  I joined at her side, a bottle of wine and two glasses in my hands. Her questioning the sanity of the idea showed how much our relationship had evolved.

  “Are you sure?” she said.

  “It’s a Wednesday,” I replied, and she took the glass without a word, instead sharing sight of the puppy as he harassed Brad, snapping at the hoe. Brad seemed to be enjoying himself as much as Fuzz, especially with us both watching.

  With the second glass and at Brad’s departure, we talked. Celina asked about my night out, her shoulders leaning forward as I told her how much fun we’d had.

  With the second bottle and the third glass, I couldn’t help but invite her along when we next went out.

  With the words her manner changed. Her smile softened as she sat back into the bench.

  “That’s very sweet of you, but I can’t do that,” she replied.

  “You can. I’m inviting you,” I said; I couldn’t help thinking she was trying to make me beg.

  “I’ve got responsibilities here,” she said. “I’m married.”

  I laughed. I couldn’t help it.

  She looked up.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “No you don’t, but you don’t need to,” she replied, finishing up her glass and topping us both up.

  This was interesting. I thought she would have jumped at the chance, but now she was backing down.

  “I wouldn’t enjoy it, anyway.”

  “Don’t give me that rubbish,” I said, my voice raising. “You can’t go out because of your husband?”

  Celina paused for a long while before she answered. “Yes, and my responsibilities to this,” she said, looking all around.

  “What about his responsibilities?” I said, feeling my anger building. “Doesn’t he have responsibilities to you?”

  “You don’t understand what I mean,” she said. “I just can’t do that.”

  “Okay, but I’ll say this then I’ll get on. You’ve got a messed-up set of priorities somewhere. You married him, you took on his kids, cutting off your youth prematurely. You’ve been trying to fuck me since I’ve arrived and now you’re saying that you can’t go out with me as a friend to have some fun for one night?” I shook my head. “I don’t get it.”

  I stood and turned to leave. Glancing back, I half expected her to be in tears, but she just looked up at me with a neutral expression and the glass empty in her hand.

  ***

  We didn’t cross paths until later the next day. She called me from downstairs, shouting up about a hand-delivered package.

  As I walked down the stairs, I heard the door click closed and her car start, the engine noise disappearing out into the open.

  My gaze fell to a beautiful cream box about the size of a telephone directory sat on the phone stand in the hallway. Tied to the box with a peach ribbon, a bow on top, sat a small white rectangle of card with my name written in a swirl of ink.

  I took the box and climbed the stairs, holding it as if there could be anything inside. Arriving in my room, I’d already ruled out explosives; too light and it gave off no odour other than a delicate musk of perfume.

  The contents didn’t move as I rocked it from side to side. I sat on the edge of my bed, looking all around, expecting some great surprise as I pulled both ends of the bow.

  There was no hiss of escaping gas. No cloud of powder pluming from behind the neat lines of the box. Instead, just the faint crinkle of tissue paper covering the contents. Placing the lid with care at my side, I lifted the delicate paper to find a note written by a curve-perfect hand.

  Not looking beyond, I read:

&nb
sp; My Dear Cat,

  Saturday is the night. Be around mine at 6pm. Bring an overnight bag, you won’t be back till the morning.

  Wear something short, cut low and heels. In the box are some nice things from a mutual friend who can't wait to see what they look like on the floor.

  Excitedly,

  A xx

  Oh, shit.

  It hadn’t been the drink talking.

  She'd actually gone through with it. It wasn’t an elaborate joke.

  Even though I knew it’s what she’d been angling at all this time, and pretending to go through with it was the only option I could think of for getting into the centre room, now she'd arranged the deed I felt a nervousness I hadn’t felt since my first days on the pommel horse.

  After all I'd gone through. My first experiences of Welbeck. The pain and fear of selection. The hidden objective. The attrition and aggressive pace of training and what happened after, stood naked taking two lives. Still, the thought of what they had planned for me made me barely able to stand with fear, my vision almost blurring to black as I pulled up the tissue paper again and saw the near see-through white silk edged in lace.

  Closing the lid I set the box to the side, not able to pull out the soft garments for fear I’d faint.

  I sat on the bed, not moving, taking slow, deliberate breaths for what seemed like an age, but was probably just a matter of minutes. I looked to the box and at my reflection in the tall mirror beside the dresser.

  After a moment I stood and slowly stripped down until naked.

  My gaze hovered over my reflection and I smiled. Turning to the box I leant towards it, but just as I was about to touch the sleek lines I changed my mind and swapped into my shorts and sports bra.

  I ran for longer than I'd expected. Struggling to get my bearings as I ran back, I had to get to the edge of the woods, turning back and counting in my head.

  The process worked and I was at my tree within ten minutes, back and in the shower within another fifteen.

  Not alone in the house anymore, it gave me reason to hide the box away in the wardrobe without exploring its contents.

  Distracted, I went about the next couple of days. Alarica didn’t call, and I walked the dog with just the children.

  18

  The next day I headed to town, my first excursion in the daylight since this area had become my home.

  I had nothing resembling short, other than my running gear. Nothing cut low enough for Ally’s request. I’ve never owned a tall heel.

  Combining a few of Celina’s requests, I took the car for the drive to the town where we’d spent those few hours drinking.

  I chose a department store similar to one I would have used at home, expecting they’d have all I needed. For once I was trying to dress my age and gender, not that of ten or twenty years older, usually trying to hide every aspect which differentiated the sexes.

  Despite their vast range, they had nothing close to what I needed and I ended up buying three choices for each of the categories; each of the nine items from different shops. For the first time I said things to myself others had said when I’d been forced to shop with them.

  In the end, I left satisfied with my decisions, knowing at least one of each choice should work whilst berating myself for even caring.

  I wrapped up Celina’s small purchases and stopped at the post office, purchasing a pen, some tape and small postal box. I discarded the pen and the tape after I sealed the box and addressed it. With my shopping back in the car I headed to the stout five-storey building a short walk from the main high street.

  Let in by a tall man dressed in a crease-free suit who grinned as he held the door wide, I thanked him without locking eyes, following the signs to the reception where I found a middle-aged woman behind a desk. Her face looked like she kept the major cosmetic companies in business single-handed.

  “Package for Mr Rozman,” I said in a forthright voice, placing the package on the desk between us.

  The woman behind the counter raised her eyebrows, tipping her head to the side. “No Mr Rozman here, my love,” she said, widening her eyes.

  I turned the parcel around with the address facing me and took time to read it back.

  “Is the address correct?” I said, turning it in her direction.

  She nodded after I’d watched her scan the words.

  “So no Lenart Rozman?”

  “No, I would know him. There’s only about a hundred people in the building and I know them all by name,” she said, her gaze wandering up to the ceiling in thought. “But hang on, let me check. He may be a new starter, but then again I do the inductions so that won’t be right.”

  Still she tapped her chubby fingers on the keyboard out in front of her, her eyes set on the screen below the counter top.

  Her face lit up after a few seconds. “Well I don’t know,” she said with surprise, her eyes widening so much I could see cracks appear in her thick foundation. “We have a Lenart Rozman, up on floor three.” Her voice slowed. “He must use one of the hot desks.” She took the parcel and placed it on the floor by her feet, her eyelids batting the thick false lashes together as she barely noticed me say goodbye.

  Now I had the information I needed.

  This place was a front.

  Lenart Rozman was a someone.

  I’d been told to concentrate on fifty-six, which meant either they were wrong or he was unconnected and this was something I alone could use.

  Grinning widely, I headed back to the car.

  19

  By Saturday morning the dog’s novelty was wearing thin with the family so I walked the woods with just my thoughts and the fuzzball for company. The afternoon came too soon and I busied myself doing what I thought someone in my situation should do.

  I took a long bath, shaved and tidied, washed my hair and preened and plucked where I had never preened and plucked before. I took time to dry before covering in a towelling robe to make the short journey to my room. Hesitantly, I slid the bolt and pulled the handle, preparing for who could be standing the other side of the door.

  “Catarina,” Celina said in a quiet voice. “Lenart wants me to ask you where you’re going tonight. To make sure you’re safe.”

  “Hi, Celina. How are you doing?” I replied.

  “I’m fine,” she said, her tone flat, gaze turning down the stairs.

  “I’m staying next door,” I replied with a large smile. “And I’ve got to get ready,” I added, already shuffling along the corridor before pushing the door closed at my back.

  I let my anger evaporate with two long deep breaths. The controlling bastard downstairs should be asleep by now. I waited until I heard footsteps headed down the stairs before I removed my robe.

  After hanging the gown on the back of the door, I hesitated, my hands lingering on the handles of the wardrobe.

  I didn’t believe in anything I couldn’t see, couldn’t touch, but in that moment I knew the next few hours, the next few days, had a weight I was only just beginning to realise.

  Shaking off the thought, I pulled the off-white box from its hiding place and laid it on the bed, where it sat as I stared, hoping for new-found courage. More than a minute passed before I told myself how stupid I was being and pulled up the lid, taking the note and reading it three times over before setting it to the side.

  Removing the final layer of paper, I stared at the thin pair of white knickers, my fingers reaching out to touch at the silk and trace the beautiful lace edge before pulling them from the box.

  A matching bra sat underneath, with cups of the same thin material, again edged with the fine lace finish.

  Standing, I slipped them on and turned to the mirror. A perfect fit.

  My mouth moved of its own accord and I caught myself smiling back. They were a beautiful gift, the fit so comfortable I could barely feel them against my skin.

  Letting my gaze wander, I circled the contrast of my areola, just visible as my nipples gave their own opinion, my look
drifting to the thin strip of hair I could just make out between my legs.

  I turned away, taking several deep breaths and pulled on a tight yellow vest top, wrapping the tops of my thighs in a thin black skirt.

  I couldn’t help but smile back in the mirror, drawing myself away, shaking my head, soon pulling a heavy coat over my shoulders, thankful its drop was so much longer than the clothes I was just about wearing.

  With the briefest of goodbyes and my small overnight bag in my hand, I opened the door into the warm night air, pausing only briefly as I saw six cars bumper to bumper and side to side in fifty-six’s driveway.

  For a moment I wondered if there would be an audience.

  The door opened after a short wait. It was Lenara. I let the breath catch in my chest.

  “Come in,” she said. “Don’t just stand there.”

  I took a tentative step, letting my gaze pass over new plasters on each of her thumbs before moving to the side to let her push the door shut.

  I heard a rabble of gossiping voices from the living room. All women. Not a team event, surely?

  “Come and meet everyone,” Lenara said, ushering me out of the hall.

  In the living room I forced my eyes not to widen as I saw seven middle-aged women turning with a smile at my entrance.

  “Ladies. This is their lady from next door. Catarina.” The group erupted with a series of hellos and raised glasses in my direction.

  Following the welcomes around the room, I searched out a friendly face whilst hoping Frank wasn’t among them. Before I could finish my greetings, a double blast of a car horn sounded from outside and the stairs lit up with the pound of rushing feet, Ally soon beaming at the door, followed by a gentle breeze of her sweet perfume.

  Also draped in a long coat, she grabbed me by the arm, shouting a goodbye, dragging me out of the door and toward a large Mercedes parked at the curb, the rear door held wide by a silver-haired man in a black suit.