February 2014

London, England

 

Quinn smiled happily as she walked toward the Institute. It was warm for February, and the rain of the past few days had given way to pleasant sunshine, reminding her that spring wasn’t far off. She was due to meet Gabe in a half hour to register Emma for the nursery school they’d chosen. It was close to the Institute, which was convenient since Gabe would be able to drop Emma off and pick her up on his way home. The school was charming, and the staff left a very favorable impression on both Quinn and Gabe. Now that they had chosen a school, Quinn felt more at ease. It seemed utterly overwhelming at first, but things were starting to come together, and the initial panic of suddenly having to raise a child was slowly giving way to a sense of order.

We can do this, Quinn thought as she strolled along. Perhaps she could even talk Gabe into having a celebratory dinner at that Mediterranean place they both liked, since it might be their last for a while. They were going to pick up Emma from Gabe’s parents tomorrow. Phoebe and Graham were a little forlorn at having to part with Emma. She’d brought a ray of sunshine into their lives, but they saw the necessity of Emma being with her father and settling into a life in London. They called every night and put Emma on the phone to speak with Quinn and Gabe. Gabe dutifully reported on the progress of Emma’s room, and Quinn told her about the nursery school, describing it in the most favorable terms possible.

“I want my old school,” Emma wailed. “I miss my friends.”

“You will make new friends,” Quinn promised.

“What if no one likes me?” Emma breathed.

“Of course, they’ll like you,” Gabe assured her. “Why wouldn’t they?”

“Because I have a funny accent,” Emma replied. “Mrs. Edwards at the post office said so. She said I sound like a proper little Scot, and she can barely understand me.”

“Ah, Mrs. Edwards,” Gabe replied, clearly annoyed. “You pay no attention to her.”

“That’s what Granddad said,” Emma said. “He said she has a face like a smacked bottom.”

Quinn covered the mouthpiece, and snorted with laughter. Leave it to Graham to make the most inappropriate observation in front of a four-year-old. Quinn was sure that Emma would store that phrase and use it at the first available opportunity, most likely at nursery school. Quinn expected Gabe to say something very correct, but instead he burst out laughing and said, “She certainly does, and that’s on a good day.”

Emma’s tinkling laugh came over the line. She felt better, and that was that mattered. “All right. I’ll give it a go,” she promised. “Would Mum have liked this school?” she suddenly asked.

“I really think she would have,” Gabe replied.

“All right,” Emma said again, more subdued now. “I’m going to have my bath now. Bye.”

“I have to go,” Phoebe said after Emma ran off. “But, just so you know, Mrs. Edwards has been dealt with.”

“Right. Thanks, Mum.”

“What exactly does she mean by ‘dealt with’?” Quinn asked after they hung up the phone.

“I dare not ask,” Gabe replied, still chuckling. “But I never underestimate my mother. If Mrs. Edwards is suddenly banned from doing flowers for the church or isn’t invited to the next book club meeting, we know who to blame. My mother can be ruthless.”

“I better behave then,” Quinn quipped.

“Yes, you’d better. And speaking of spanked bottoms…” Quinn squealed as Gabe lightly smacked her bum, leaving her in no doubt as to his immediate plans.

**

Quinn glanced at her watch. She was a bit early. She could go in, but she had no desire to see any of her colleagues, so she decided to wait outside instead. She found an empty bench and settled in to wait for Gabe. She needed to ring Sylvia and check in with Jill. Jill seemed in better spirits the last few days, fueled by Quinn’s idea and looking for suppliers who might help her implement it. And Sylvia had left a message, asking Quinn to ring her back. Quinn was just rummaging in her handbag for her mobile when someone sat down on the bench next to her.

“Don’t even think of leaving,” the man said as his fingers closed around her wrist as she tried to flee. “I’d like a word.”

Quinn threw Robert Chatham a look of defiance and prayed that Gabe would come out early and rescue her. Chatham looked angry, and given that he’d found her despite her giving him a false name, she could understand why. That whole episode left her cringing with shame, both at the memory of Chatham’s advances and her own behavior. Perhaps it was best if Gabe didn’t see them talking to each other.

“How can I help you, Mr. Chatham?” Quinn asked, striving for composure. She wasn’t really scared since they were seated in the middle of a public park filled with passersby, but the man made her uneasy.

Chatham turned toward her and studied her for a few moments, his gaze filled more with curiosity than hostility. “I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to talk.” He finally let go of her wrist once he was satisfied that she wasn’t about to run off.

“I had a pleasant chat with Monica Fielding yesterday. She had a lot to say once your name came up. Did you think I wouldn’t find out who you are, Dr. Allenby?” he asked, amused by Quinn’s startled expression. “Once I Googled Monica Fielding, I had no trouble finding your profile on the institute website. So, let’s skip the polite chit-chat and get to the point. Why would a well-respected archeologist seek me out? And you did seek me out. You targeted me.”

Quinn pinned Robert Chatham with her gaze, impressed by how quickly he caught up to her. The man clearly didn’t make idle threats. He gave her a pleasant smile, raising one eyebrow to emphasize that he was waiting for an answer.

“Do you really want to know?” Quinn asked. She sounded calmer than she felt, but would not run from a confrontation with this man. She had nothing to lose, not anymore. “Thirty-one years ago, you invited a girl to a party at your house where you and two of your mates drugged and assaulted her. I was born nine months later. I targeted you because I thought you might be my biological father.”

“So, you accepted the invitation to my room to see if you could find any DNA?” Chatham asked. He looked amused, which annoyed Quinn, who had hoped for some expression of remorse.

“Yes. I wanted to know for sure.”

“And do you?”

“Not a match.” Chatham looked momentarily relieved, but then burst out laughing.

“You’re a lot feistier than your mother ever was; I’ll give you that.”

“Don’t you talk about my mother,” Quinn cried, furious at his levity. Robert Chatham tilted his head to the side and studied her, his mouth twitching with suppressed humor.

“Oh, let me guess. Poor Sylvia spun you a grim tale in which Snow White gets drugged and shagged by the evil dwarfs. Well, let me tell you, Princess, that’s not how it happened. Your mother had a reputation for being a slag, which is why I invited her in the first place. I wanted to have a merry Christmas, if you know what I mean. She could have refused the champagne, but she didn’t. She drank glass after glass, until she could barely stand. The other two girls offered her a ride home, but she decided to stay. She wanted to stay. She was so far gone, there was no need to drug her, not that I would have. That’s simply not my style. I like my women conscious. I kissed her and she kissed me back. She let me touch her and put my hand down her jeans. She liked it. She got a bit upset when Seth joined in, but she never asked us to stop. She was flattered by the attention. Surprised?” he asked, grinning at Quinn who looked mutinous.

“You’re a liar,” Quinn hissed.

“Am I? Are you sure?” Robert Chatham chuckled. “Rhys was a bit reluctant. He always was something of a coward, but by the time Seth and I were finished with Sylvia, one more bloke wouldn’t have made any difference. She just lay there, legs spread, just begging for it. We egged Rhys on; I admit that, but he didn’t need much persuading. It was his chance to lose his virginity at last, and with someone who was too piss-drunk to laugh him out of the room.”

Chatham caught Quinn deftly by the wrist when she tried to slap him. “And that’s not the worst of it, Sunshine. Sylvia clearly never told you that there was a fourth man.”

“What?” Quinn breathed. “You are saying that just to be cruel.”

Chatham shook his head. “No, I’m not. Ask Sylvia. There’s a reason why she never breathed a word of this to anyone.”

“Who was he? Was he a friend of yours?” Quinn demanded.

“No, he wasn’t, and he wasn’t there that night, but he’d shagged her, repeatedly; you can be sure of that.”

Quinn looked away as tears of anger and betrayal stung her eyes. She wanted to believe that Chatham was lying, but something in his eyes told her that he was telling the truth. Sylvia had lied to her, had omitted information for a reason. It was her word against Chatham’s on whether she was raped or had sex with the boys willingly, but she’d clearly chosen not to tell Quinn the whole story.

Quinn yanked her hand away when Robert Chatham took it in his. His expression had softened, and he looked at her with an expression of compassion and admiration.

“You could have just asked me, you know,” he said, his voice low.

“And would you have agreed to be tested?” Quinn retorted. She was trying not to cry, and it was easier to keep a rein on her emotions if she were angry.

“I’m not a good man, Quinn; I freely admit that. I’ve made mistakes, and I’ve hurt people intentionally, but had you been honest, I would have gladly given you a swab with my saliva.”

“Why would you do that?” Quinn asked, her eyes narrowed as she finally met Chatham’s gaze.

“Because I’ve learned that you must pay for everything in this life, and if the bill for that night came in the shape of a daughter like you, then I would have been proud that something good came out of it. I know that you are relieved that I’m not your father, and you probably have every right to be, but I must say that I’m a bit disappointed.”

Quinn gaped at Chatham. She hadn’t expected such a dramatic change in his attitude, nor did she think the man had any redeeming qualities, but perhaps she’d judged him too harshly. She still didn’t know the entire truth of that night, and until she did, she would reserve judgment.

“Tell me about Seth,” Quinn asked.

“There’s not much to tell. I lost touch with Seth years ago, after he went back to the States. He was a good bloke. He had that sense of fun that Americans so often have. No inhibitions, no reservations, and no apologies. I’m sure you’ll have no trouble tracking him down; it’s easy enough these days, but I’d talk to Sylvia first. I think you need to be in full possession of the facts.”

Robert Chatham gave Quinn a rueful smile as he got to his feet. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Princess. Perhaps life will throw you in my path again one of these days. Good luck with your search.”

Quinn watched as Robert Chatham walked away, his shoulders squared and his stride purposeful. She glared at the mobile that glinted in the sunshine in her open handbag. She would have to hold off on calling Sylvia until she felt calmer.

Quinn looked up and saw Gabe emerging from the building. He must have been rushing to meet her because his coat was unbuttoned, and his scarf was slung carelessly around his neck. He was patting his pockets to check if he’d taken his mobile and wallet. Gabe smiled and waved, and Quinn promptly burst into tears.