Truth and Lies

by Marguerite Valentine

  What should he do? Nothing seemed more attractive at that moment than swimming. However warm the water was, it would feel cool compared to the mid-afternoon heat of the Greek sun. He hadn’t brought his swimming gear with him, but that was of little consequence. He took a quick look around. It was siesta time; the bay was deserted, there was no one around other than Nixie and she was already swimming. He stripped off, and within a minute he’d entered the water and swum out to the rocks to where she’d been standing. The water felt deliciously cool. Treading water, he waited for her to emerge. She came up out of the water right by him and glanced at him. She must have known he was there because she didn’t seem surprised.

  ‘I had to see you, Nixie.’

  She didn’t reply, but dived under the water, and pulled away strongly from him. The water shimmered in the heat, but it was so clear, so translucent, he could see her swimming along the bottom. Kicking his legs, he pointed his body down through the water and followed. He swam until he caught up with her and for a brief moment they circled one another, before they both rose to the surface. He grabbed hold of the rock and looked at her. She was a couple of feet away and treading water. She looked inscrutable. He couldn’t make out what she was feeling, what her thoughts were.

  ‘Won’t you speak to me?’

  ‘What is there to say?’

  He hadn’t intended to apologise, but he heard himself say, ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘For what?’

  ‘For what I said to you.’

  ‘Maybe I deserved it. I have betrayed you.’

  ‘You’re leaving me?’

  ‘Of course. We can’t continue now. It would be impossible.’

  ‘I suppose so.’

  ‘I’m going back.’

  He watched as she swam away, pulled herself out of the water, and walked back to the beach. He followed, expecting her to leave as soon as he sat by her. But she didn’t. She pulled out her towel, dried her hair and, arranging the towel in a straight line, sat down and looked out to sea. He was unsure what he should say to her. He waited to see where she was in her head. She glanced at him, but she didn’t seem angry, more resigned.

  ‘I forgot to bring my towel.’ He didn’t know what else to say.

  ‘And your trunks, I see.’ She moved over, made a place for him to sit by her. ‘Shouldn’t you put your shorts on?’

  ‘There’s no one around. I will, when I’m dry. Let’s get some shade.’

  He put out his hand to pull her up and they walked silently towards a clump of trees. She didn’t speak but lay on her back, shielding her face from the sun with her hat. That way he couldn’t see her face, but then, neither could she see his.

  ‘Are you really leaving?’

  ‘I am.’

  ‘Will you forgive me?’

  ‘I might. In time.’

  ‘What do I have to do?’

  ‘Sort yourself out.’

  ‘Don’t I have a right to be angry?’

  ‘Yes, it’s not what you said, but how you said it. You have a cruel side… like what you did to my mother.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Nixie. But I was so angry.’

  ‘I know that. But it doesn’t excuse it.’

  ‘We might have worked something out.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘I don’t know, but something.’

  ‘Seb, I don’t want to argue any more, but I’m going to tell you, and this is whether you want to hear it or not, or whether you believe it or not, I have feelings for you. It wasn’t a case of me using you, like you said. It wasn’t like that.’

  ‘You have feelings? What kind of feelings?’

  She pulled her hat away from her face and looked directly at him. ‘Love. I love you, Seb. I’ve said it before. I love you − despite everything.’

  ‘I don’t believe you. How can you? I’m a bastard.’

  ‘Maybe. Maybe you have cause to be, but I think you don’t know what it is.’

  ‘You mean love?’

  ‘Love is what I mean.’

  She looked at him. Their eyes met. She smiled. Her eyes said everything and against his better judgement he leant over and, taking her face gently in his hands, kissed her. It was long and slow and her mouth was warm and receptive to his tongue. She pulled away from him.

  ‘Seb, I don’t want it to end. Not like this.’

  ‘What are you saying? How do you want it to end?’

  She looked away. ‘I think you know, I need you just one more time,’ she said, still without looking at him.

  ‘Are you sure?’

  She didn’t reply.

  ‘It’ll make it more difficult.’

  ‘Maybe. But you always make me feel good.’

  She gave him the smile, the one that reminded him of the time when they first met, pulled off her bikini and closed her eyes. He touched her. He’d never desired a woman as much. She was responsive, sensuous, her body warm, inviting. They made love, slept, and swam until exhausted and hungry, they returned to the villa, driven away by the sound of visitors clambering down to the bay.

  Her ferry left at eight. He accompanied her down to the harbour but just as she left, she gave him a note. ‘Open it after I’ve gone,’ she said, ‘but before I go, I’d like a photo of you.’

  It took him aback, and he said, ‘What for?’

  ‘To remember you by… we may never meet again.’

  He stared at her, ‘If you must,’ he said and forced a smile.

  ‘Do you want one of me?’

  ‘No.’ He turned away and walked back to the villa. His mood low, it was some time before he could open her note. It said,

  Dearest Seb,

  Soon it’s going to come out that you’ve been working undercover, so you have to leave Karpathos, and go some place off the map, where you can’t be found. You’ve got to keep on the move and you’ve got to live like that for months, possibly longer.

  I do truly love you even though neither of us has been straight with each other. I think that after what’s been said and what’s been done, the trust has gone between us and there is no going back. Please don’t try to get back in touch with me because I won’t answer. It has to be that way and I’ve no idea when or if it’s ever going to be okay.

  But whatever happens, I won’t ever forget you. I’ve said before, love is a strange thing and I don’t understand it, but it’s happened and you were and always will be special to me.

  With all my love,

  Nixie.

  He read it several times. It was poignant, sad, but she was right. He had to disappear. The word would soon get round that he’d been an agent working undercover. He began packing the same evening, took the next ferry and for months travelled round the Islands, stopping randomly, anywhere convenient, anywhere that appealed. He cut himself off from his previous life. Gimp contacted him several times, but he ignored him. Occasionally he read an English newspaper. He thought a lot about politics, the economy, the protest movements, what he’d observed, what he’d experienced over the past three years, and the discussions he’d had with Nixie and the others.

  He was hardly aware that he was changing. He’d been in a night club, when he heard an old jazz number. It was a mournful love song, sung by Chet Baker and it depressed him. He’d heard it first years ago and it had stayed with him. ‘You don’t know what love is, until you know the blues.’ Maybe he had loved her because she was always on his mind. He had a couple of short-term relationships, but they weren’t the same as with Nixie. No one interested him or turned him on in the way she had.

  The shock waves from the 2008 crash meanwhile continued reverberating across the world. Its impact was particularly destructive to the Greek economy, but the Greeks had a different political history from the Brits. They fought against the restrictions of the EU and IMF. For a while S
eb stood on the side lines and watched but the rise of Syriza interested him. In 2011 he moved to Athens. He’d decided to stay on in Greece.

  Part 2

  — 17 —

  Nixie came through to the Arrival lounge. Mike was waiting for her and walked forward to greet her, his eyes searching her face.

  ‘So did you tell him?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘And his reaction?’

  ‘What do you think?’

  Mike didn’t answer, but picked up her holdall, and said, ‘I’m in the short stay.’ They walked in silence to the car park. ‘You’re not very talkative.’

  ‘Not surprising is it, we’ve worked together. We’ve been close, and I liked him. A lot.’

  ‘Great. He’s a copper’s nark, but you liked him. That’s what’s important.’

  ‘Cut the sarcasm. No one’s perfect.’

  ‘I know you. It’s the sex you liked, not him.’

  Nixie stopped, glared at him, then she said, ‘None of your business.’

  ‘Just joking.’ Mike opened the boot of the car, and placed the holdall inside. He turned to look at Nixie and looked grim. ‘I need to tell you something… but get in first.’ Nixie didn’t respond. She sat in the front seat and stared straight ahead. ‘The police are onto us. They know about Langhithe and the hacking. We have a problem.’

  ‘Okay, but don’t hang about here. How long have you had this car?’

  ‘It’s not mine. Borrowed. Are you listening?’

  ‘I will be, when you move off.’

  ‘I’ve been pulled in. No idea how they traced it to us. So far, I’ve said I know nothing but if we spill the beans, Seb’ll be nicked, and, he’s hardly gonna keep his mouth shut, is he? He knows too much and he could bring the whole organisation down.’

  ‘What’s the alternative?’

  ‘We keep schtum, deny everything, in which case, he might get off, but they’ll be monitoring us for years after, and that’ll seriously cramp our style.’ Nixie was silent. ‘So… what do you reckon?’

  ‘It seems obvious to me, we keep schtum, like you said… unless you want to take revenge. Besides, Seb’s going into hiding. Where are we going, by the way.’

  ‘Not your place or mine, they’re sure to be bugged. To a new member.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘You don’t know her.’

  Nixie glanced at him. So this woman must be his latest. She silently wished her good luck.

  ‘Let’s hope she’s safe.’

  ‘That’s a good one, coming from you… She’s okay. She’s been checked out… So what more do you know?’

  ‘About Seb, you mean?’

  ‘Who else would I be talking about?’

  ‘Okay, I’ll run though the situation. He’s been followed, and there was the arson attack − that much you know. But there’s another incident, really hard core. Someone ran him off the road in Wales. He doesn’t know who did what, and he’s paranoid. Not surprising. He thinks we did the lot.’

  ‘Does he know we set up the woman?’

  ‘We? You mean ‘you’… He does now−because I told him.’

  Mike laughed. ’Well, he certainly knows how to operate… when it comes to women. Jealous?’

  ‘As I was saying… the arson and being driven off the road could have been anyone, in theory. But attempted murder isn’t usually in the Met’s bag of tricks, and as for hacking into Langhithe, he’s not important enough to be bumped off by Security or MI5. That leaves Fortescue, Makepeace and Melbury in the frame…Melbury’s a small player, using and selling his connections to make a little something on the side, Fortescue’s a fraudster, so far, so predictable, but Makepeace is something else. Weird. A piece of shit. He deserves everything coming to him, and he’s got a lot to hide.’

  ‘So what’s your point?’

  ‘With Seb out of the UK, we may be the next target. It could get heavy.’

  ‘You think I hadn’t got that?’ Mike turned off the A4 flyover and began negotiating a way through the heavy traffic towards Camden.

  ‘Where are you taking me?’

  ‘You’ll see when I stop. Don’t write it down. I’ll see you there tomorrow night.’

  He turned off the main road, drove down a side road, and came to stop just by a narrow passage way. He turned to look at Nixie.

  ‘We’ve been dropped right in it, by your lover-boy. You realise that, don’t you?’

  ‘You agreed to the plan. What do you want to do? Hang, draw and quarter him?’

  ‘Something like that.’

  ‘He’s made us thousands.’

  ‘At a cost.’

  ‘We’ll work something out.’

  ‘Yeah, well, in the meantime, watch your back. This is your stop. Got some stuff to pick up. See you here tomorrow. Four Potters Mews…Oh and by the way, if you miss lover boy, you know where I am.’ He leant over and opened the door for her.

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘For old times sake…if you miss him…I’m still here.’ Nixie glowered at him. ‘You’re an attractive woman Nixie, even if you do fall for unsuitable men.’

  ‘That includes you, so fuck off,’ she said, and jumping out, she slammed the door and made the V sign through the window. Mike wound the window down, and shouted as she walked rapidly away, ‘You know you want me, Nixie. We can make music together, baby.’

  Her flatmate was out. She glanced at herself in the mirror. Nice tan, but so what, she already missed Seb. She dumped her bag on the sofa, made herself a coffee and sat down. Her mind went into overdrive as she obsessively went over their row. Why did it have to end like this? She stood up and began going through her post. Her mobile rang. She picked it up. It was her mother.

  ‘Nixie, welcome back, sweetie. I had a premonition that you might be back. I tried to phone you in Greece, but there was no answer. Are you okay? You’re back sooner than you said.’

  Nixie did a mental run through of how much she was willing to tell her mother. ‘You’re right. I am back earlier. We quarrelled.’

  Her mother sighed, ‘I’m sorry. I know how fond of him you were.’

  ‘Fond… I loved him.’

  ‘You’ve said that before about other men.’

  ‘Maybe I have. This time it’s the real thing. Or it was.’

  ‘So it’s serious.’

  ‘As it gets.’

  ‘I thought you two got on so well.’

  ‘Well, we did, especially in bed. That always worked, but not this time.’

  ‘Do I need to know that?’

  ‘Just telling you how it is, or was… Mum, I’m tired. I’ll give you a ring tomorrow.’

  ‘I’d like you to come home for a few days. There’s someone I want you to meet.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Rose.’

  ‘Did you say Rose? The Rose? Rose from your past…? But you only saw her a few months ago.’

  ‘Yes, but it wasn’t for long. I’d said she could visit when next she’s in the UK, so she called me up. She’s at a conference. I’m pleased, Nixie. More than pleased and I’d like you to meet her.’

  ‘Mum, I can’t take that in. I’ve only just got back. It’s been hard and I need to sleep. I’ll ring later. Sorry.’

  ‘Well, come home soon, it’s been a while since I saw you.’

  Nixie sighed. ‘Okay. I’ll be in touch.’

  She put the phone down. She felt drained. The thought that her mother and Rose were re-establishing contact after all these years was more than she could comprehend. She’d hoped the brief meeting she and Rose had had in London would be enough, but apparently not. She distrusted Rose. She’d been her mother’s joint accomplice. She’d helped her to hide the baby after she’d snatched him, and a good friend would surely have talked her out of it.
/>   Now, on top of everything, she’d have to deal with meeting her, whereas what she felt now was devastation. She had nothing to give. The breakdown of her relationship with Seb was all consuming. Everything reminded her of him. She walked into the bedroom and burst into tears, when she saw his tee shirt he’d left behind. She brought it up to her face, then put it down and stared into the distance. Rose was sure to bring back the past for her mother − how she snatched the baby and how she’d kept him with Rose’s help.

  Had they thought about the impact it must have had on Seb? The whole experience must have been a major disruption in his life. She’d read once that early trauma could permanently damage people even if as adults they had no conscious memory. Maybe that was why he’d broken into their farmhouse at the dead of night. It was as if he wanted revenge and to pay her back, he’d left the giraffe in her mother’s bed to frighten her. It was weird. It was horrible

  She moodily made herself a coffee, sat down, and prayed her flatmate wouldn’t be coming home tonight. The thought of sitting idly chatting about Greece was the last thing on her mind. She pulled off her clothes and threw herself on the bed. Her mobile rang. Irrationally, she hoped it was Seb, but it wasn’t. It was an unknown number. She didn’t pick up. It was likely to be Bill, and she didn’t have the energy right then to speak to him. It went onto voicemail. ‘Nixie, it’s Bill, call me. a.s.a.p.’ Nixie sighed, too late, too tired. She’d call him tomorrow. She fell into a deep sleep, a sleep punctuated by fragments of the row and images of Seb.

  She was woken at eight by her mobile was ringing. She grabbed the phone. Bill ─ again.

  ‘Nixie. Where the fuck have you been? I know you’re back. Been trying to get hold of you. Need to see you. Today. Get your arse round her a.s.a.p. The usual place.’

  ‘What’s it about?’

  ‘You think I’m going to tell you? If I want it broadcasted, I’ll put it out as a news bulletin.’

  ‘It’s Langhithe, isn’t it?’

  He rang off without answering.

  She dragged herself out of bed, walked across to a desktop computer, and unscrewed the front fascia. It was an old machine, stripped of its electronics, she used as a convenient hiding place for sensitive documents. She removed the photos, the ones sent anonymously to Seb which she’d taken from him and the ones passed onto her by Freda Arnsberg. Then she showered, flung on some clothes, and joined the morning commuters fighting their way across London.