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Did he know about Alex from the moment he was born?
By eleven a.m., the pills are working enough for me to stagger into the bathroom, but every movement is a slow step of anticipation and frustration. Running a hot bath, I stand in front of the mirror and write two names in the condensation. It’s a ritual I do every morning.
Afterwards, I close my eyes and imagine where they are and what they’re doing. Today, Frankie’s chain-smoking in a fancy office somewhere, reliving the past and plotting out the present. Alex is kicking a football against a wall on his own, stuck in a moment and constantly wondering.
Butterflies and parallel lives.
I sink down into the water and let the soothing heat do its thing. This time when I close my eyes, the only person I see is Roisin.
I need to get a message to her, but I don’t know how.
O’Sullivan has her trapped in another guarded fortress, and our lines of communication are constantly monitored.
I’m still thinking about her an hour later when I limp into the kitchen. I have a housekeeper called Valeryia, but I never see her. She scurries away like a frightened mouse whenever she hears my footsteps, but the place is always sparkling clean.I’ve knocked on her bedroom door more than once to introduce myself, but she never answers. When I try the handle, it’s always locked.
Adrik and one of his men are sitting at the table eating lunch, shovelling fistfuls of bread into their mouths like it’s their last meal on earth. When they hear me, they turn and scowl in my direction, as ifI’mthe unwanted intruder.
“Eat.” Adrik flings a bowl of salad in my direction, but I decline it with a tight smile. The pills and the company have made me lose my appetite. “Suit yourself.”
Crossing the room to the sink, I pour myself a glass of water and gaze out of the window, mostly so I don’t have to look atthem. Bright sunshine is spilling through the branches of an old oak tree, making a latticework of shadows on the green lawn below. Six armed men are patrolling the gravel path next to it, their long shadows a million shades darker. There are more men on the other side of the garden too and three more at the rear.
So many soldiers.
So many bars of my cage for Frankie to break through.
Behind me, Adrik and the other man have resumed their conversation in Russian, laughing and joking with the kind of scorn that tells me they’re talking about a woman. They still haven’t figured out I can understand them yet. I taught myself the language with the help of books from the local library.Yes, I kept that tradition going long after Frankie left.Every book I borrow is kept hidden amongst the shelves in the study.
Setting my glass down, I go to switch the tap on again when I hear Roisin’s name, and then another laugh. I pause, screening for phrases I recognise, and then ‘hospital’ and ‘suicide’ are slipped into the conversation like dirty bombs.
Oh God.
“Is she okay?” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. “I-I spoke to my husband earlier,” I add, quickly backtracking when I see Adrik’s face. “He told me what happened.”
“Youspoke to Semenov?” he says scornfully. “Do not lie to me.” He throws the rest of his bread down and rises to his feet, but he doesn’t sound as convinced as he should. In fourteen years of marriage, Kirill and I have rarely shared a bed, let alone a conversation. Then again, he’s not in the position to question anything about hispakhanafter what went down yesterday. His orders were to keep me in the private box, and I was stopped a metre from the door.“She is a stupid bitch.” He looks me up and down like I’m dirt, placing me firmly in the same bracket. “She could not even slit her wrists properly.”
I feel the colour draining from my face. “But she’s still alive.”
He scoffs. “Barely. I am surprised O’Sullivan did not let her bleed out. He has a new woman in Holland Park now.”
Why?Because he likes it so much better when Roisin and I suffer. He’s keeping her alive, just to deny her the peace of death.
“I want to see her.”
“I do not think—”
“Now, Adrik,” I say firmly, invoking some of my tiger spirit from yesterday, before adding, “Cian O’Sullivan would want me to be reminded that dying is never an option, unless it’s on his command.”
More satisfied with this answer, he tosses his napkin onto the table. “Be ready in five minutes.”
Nodding, I keep my composure until I reach the hallway, and then I’m biting down on my fist to muffle my screams.
No, Roisin. Don’t let him win. Don’t give him the satisfaction.
If we’d talked yesterday, we might have found another way for her. I could have told her that Frankie was close. That he was coming back.
His was the ghost that kept me going; the memory of a few hours that were strong enough to last a lifetime. Roisin has no one. O’Sullivan killed him to get to her. She has no comfort in the dark. No secret promises to hold her tight.
I think back to the night Alex was born. I think of her hand slipping into mine and her soft whispers, telling me that everything was going to be okay as I was haemorrhaging out on the hospital gurney. That I had a beautiful baby, and no one was going to hurt them, even when we both knew she couldn’t make that assurance. And then later, when I was screaming and crying for Frankie, she’d brushed my tears away and cradled my head to her chest as I’d slipped in and out of consciousness.
