CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX - ALEC
Charlie came back inside, shook his head at his brothers, and all four of them exited into another room. Some telekinetic brother thing, I reckon. Now it’s just me, Eliza, and a small human with eyes that look still a bit sleepy and also strikingly familiar.
“Mummy,” the child says, “are you making tea?”
“I was.”
“Can I have some?”
Eliza continues looking at me and after a moment says, “Of course, dear.” She goes to the cupboard and takes out a delicate-looking miniature teacup and equally miniature saucer. As she pours, I approach the small human.
“Hello, little one, what’s your name?”
“Alecandra,” she says. It stops me in my tracks.
“Alexandria,” her mother chimes in. “Trust me, I’ll see to it that she learns to get all the syllables out.”
“What’s your name?” the little one asks. She’s a bit tricky to understand, but she talks quite well, I decide. I know nothing about children, but she seems bright. I’m going to decide that she is.
“My name? My name is Alec, funny enough. Alec van den Berg.”
She laughs. “That’s a silly name.”
I laugh too. “Yeah, I suppose it might be. How old are you, Alexandria?”
“Mummy? How old is I?”
“You’re two, luv,” Eliza says, setting the tea onto the table. “Two going on twenty. Now take a seat in your chair. Use both hands.”
With some effort, Alexandria scrambles up into a chair and grips her tiny cup with her chubby little fingers. She attempts to drink and manages to spill as much as she lands in her mouth. Then she pours some tea onto the teddy bear she’s still holding. The whole exercise is an adorable fokken mess.
I step to Eliza, who bristles as I approach.
“Nice kid,” I say, my voice low.
“She is.”
“Nice place,” I note, looking around.
Eliza’s eyes go cold and dead. Without taking her glare off me, she says, “Andra, dear. Go see what your uncles are up to, will you?”
“I was supposed to hopscotch with that other man.”
“That other man has to go, luv. See if Uncle Theo wants to hopscotch. You know how good he is at it.”
Alexandria giggles. “He is pretty good!” she says, with a giddy enthusiasm that I don’t think I’ve ever felt about anything. And then she finishes spilling the rest of her tea everywhere and goes.
Once she’s gone—“Why are you three still here?” Eliza asks.
“We’ve been here for five minutes.”
“That’s about seven minutes longer than you’re welcome.”
“Hey, you lot brought us here.”
“Yes, well, in the absence of a plan, I’m not sure what we were supposed to do.” She throws a dish towel down, saying, “Goddamn it, Alec.”
“Don’t blame me. I didn’t ask for you to come after me. I was figuring it out fine on my own.”
“Were you?”
I nod.
She shakes her head. “I must have gone right barmy to have agreed to assist in this.”
I take a risk and step in just a bit closer. “But you did. And I appreciate it. I truly do. I know you think I’m—”
“You can’t even begin to know what I think of you.”
“Perhaps not. But I know it ain’t nice. And regardless of what it is exactly, I know you think I’m incapable of gratitude. But I am. I’m grateful.”
“Fine. You’re welcome. Goodbye.”
“You don’t know what I’m grateful for.”
She cocks her head. “Don’t play games with me, Alec. I have four lads in the other room who would be just as ready to disappear you from the planet as I am. Stop pushing your luck.”
I put my hands up in a gesture of surrender. “I’m not playing games. I’m trying to tell you…”
“What?” she asks, with annoyance. “What are you trying to tell me?”
I take a breath. “I’m trying to tell you that I’m grateful you stood up to me the way you did. About…” I lift my chin in the direction the little one exited. “Because you were right. I’m not a father. There’s no way I could be. I had a terrible father for a role model, and the one chance I had to prove to anyone that I could be a better example myself was when I was left in charge of Lars. And we see how that has worked out.” I close my eyes, feeling a deep sense of… something I don’t like to feel. I continue, “So, when I say ‘nice place,’ ‘nice kid,’ I mean it. It’s far better than anything I could have provided. So… thank you.”
There’s no kindness or forgiveness in her stare, but at least the dead-eyed threat of annihilation is gone. And she says, more sincerely this time, “You’re welcome.” Something almost approaching a truce feels like it could be emerging when she adds, “Whatever happened to those blokes you were hiding from? The last time. The time when I told you that I was pregnant with her?”
I have to think hard to remember. “Which ones were those?”
She rolls her eyes. “The ones that you were going to have to stash us away in Japan to hide us from? The ones who stitched you up and left you burrowed away in that silly estate?”
I squint. Still trying to remember. “I don’t… I’m not sure. I honestly don’t recall which group of okes it was. But, I mean, the answer is that they’re dead. They’re all dead. Anyone who has ever posed a threat to me is gone. That’s how it works.”
She purses her lips and nods. “You mean anyone who has ever posed a threat to you or your triangle. They’re all gone. I know, because that includes me. And your daughter.”
That stings. I’ll admit it. But I can’t blame her. “Well, now, the way things are, anyone who poses a threat to you two is part of that equation. So…”
“What are you saying?” she asks. Somewhat rhetorically.
“You know what I’m saying. I’m saying that I won’t leave England until I’m sure that no one is going to come after you for helping today.”
“We can take care of ourselves.”
“I know you can. So can I. And look what happened to me.”
She grinds her teeth and pushes her hair behind her ear. “Fine. Do whatever you like. But it has nothing to do with me. Or my brothers. Or my daughter. Do you understand?”
I nod. “I do.”
“And if any part of it—and I mean any part of it—gets visited back upon me or them…” She pauses for a long time. A long, long time. I think she may be waiting for a prompt. When I don’t offer one, she finishes her thought. “I’ll kill you.”
I raise my eyebrows, press my lips together, and nod. “OK.”
“OK.”
And then we stare at each other. It’s a strange, strange thing. She’s beautiful. Beyond beautiful, in fact. And I do care for her. I always have. But she was right, back then, when she said I didn’t love her. I didn’t. I don’t. She’s impressive and I always liked how much she felt like a challenge, but when all is said and done, the only two people I love are sitting outside right now. They are the only two people I feel anything for. Truly.
Which is why I find it so very strange that if you asked me if I would be willing to lay down my life for a two-year-old person who I only just met moments ago, the answer would be yes.
Funny that.