I don’t know if I can settle for a chaste relationship in the long term. But for the time being, it doesn’t matter. She has me and I have her. That’s enough. For
now.
EIGHT
A pattern develops over the next fortnight. Days spent working on the book with Joe, time moving with all the speed of a slug. Nights devoted to Andeanna, hours slipping away
like minutes.
I can’t stop thinking about Andeanna, the Turk, the pressures he brings to bear on her, the restricted nature of our relationship. I fantasize about killing him, catching him alone and
cutting the bastard down. But Andeanna told me that his bodyguards are always with him, except when he’s at home. I’d have a crack at him there if not for her. She’d be with him.
If she saw me kill him, she might hate me, even though it would mean her freedom. I can’t risk that.
I try to lose myself in work. Joe and I have come up with a name for our central character — Don Sanders. In the book, when Don comes back to life, he sets out to find answers to explain
his return. If you want to learn more about life after death, you track down people who deal with the dead. So Joe and I set off on a trail of fortune-tellers and clairvoyants. I’ve got the
names and addresses of many reputable mediums – including Andeanna’s friend Etienne Anders – but I don’t pursue them. Instead, imagining ourselves in Sanders’s shoes,
we turn to the internet for leads, and our search engine results lead us from one merry fraud to another.
In other research, I discover that spontaneous human combustion isn’t confined to humans. There are reports of animals, furniture, books, all sorts of objects bursting into flames.
I’m not sure how to work that into the novel, so I’ll just neglect to mention it. What the readers aren’t told can’t confuse them!
Andeanna agrees to spend an evening with Joe and me. We’ve nothing special planned – meet at a pub, go for a meal – but it’ll be nice to get them
together at last. We’re due to meet at a quarter to eight. Joe and I arrive a few minutes early, order drinks and find a table in clear view of the door. Joe has dressed smartly and even came
equipped with a tie. I told him not to be so formal, but he insisted on looking his best. ‘I feel like a father waiting to grant approval of his son’s fiancée,’ he
said.
Eight comes and goes. No sign of Andeanna. I don’t worry. She’s a woman, so I hardly expect her to be on time. But when nine o’clock ticks by, I’m sweating. She
can’t have got the pub wrong – we’ve been here before – but maybe we got our times mixed up. I ring her cell phone, but it’s switched off.
Joe’s mood darkens before mine. He was telling loads of terrible jokes earlier, but they’ve dried up and he’s tight-lipped now. Even though he doesn’t know her, he
guesses the truth before I do — she isn’t coming. He doesn’t say anything, but I can see by the way he keeps looking around that he’s embarrassed. Finally, with ten
o’clock looming, I try her cell again, then give up. ‘She’s blanked us.’
Joe sighs with relief at having the truth out in the open. ‘Maybe she was delayed,’ he says diplomatically. ‘Traffic. A puncture. An accident.’
‘No. She stood us up. She’s gone out of her way to avoid meeting you. I don’t know why, but she has. She told me she’d be here tonight, but I don’t think she ever
meant to come.’
‘Why would she be anxious to avoid me?’ Joe asks, startled.
I frown, considering it. ‘Maybe you know her. She said her maiden name was Emerson, but maybe she lied. Hell, Andeanna might an alias too. It wouldn’t be the first false name
she’s given me.’
Joe tugs at his beard. ‘You really think I might know her?’
I shrug. ‘Probably not. Maybe you’re right — she could have been delayed.’
‘Sure.’ Joe beams encouragingly. ‘She’ll most likely ring any minute now and
now.
EIGHT
A pattern develops over the next fortnight. Days spent working on the book with Joe, time moving with all the speed of a slug. Nights devoted to Andeanna, hours slipping away
like minutes.
I can’t stop thinking about Andeanna, the Turk, the pressures he brings to bear on her, the restricted nature of our relationship. I fantasize about killing him, catching him alone and
cutting the bastard down. But Andeanna told me that his bodyguards are always with him, except when he’s at home. I’d have a crack at him there if not for her. She’d be with him.
If she saw me kill him, she might hate me, even though it would mean her freedom. I can’t risk that.
I try to lose myself in work. Joe and I have come up with a name for our central character — Don Sanders. In the book, when Don comes back to life, he sets out to find answers to explain
his return. If you want to learn more about life after death, you track down people who deal with the dead. So Joe and I set off on a trail of fortune-tellers and clairvoyants. I’ve got the
names and addresses of many reputable mediums – including Andeanna’s friend Etienne Anders – but I don’t pursue them. Instead, imagining ourselves in Sanders’s shoes,
we turn to the internet for leads, and our search engine results lead us from one merry fraud to another.
In other research, I discover that spontaneous human combustion isn’t confined to humans. There are reports of animals, furniture, books, all sorts of objects bursting into flames.
I’m not sure how to work that into the novel, so I’ll just neglect to mention it. What the readers aren’t told can’t confuse them!
Andeanna agrees to spend an evening with Joe and me. We’ve nothing special planned – meet at a pub, go for a meal – but it’ll be nice to get them
together at last. We’re due to meet at a quarter to eight. Joe and I arrive a few minutes early, order drinks and find a table in clear view of the door. Joe has dressed smartly and even came
equipped with a tie. I told him not to be so formal, but he insisted on looking his best. ‘I feel like a father waiting to grant approval of his son’s fiancée,’ he
said.
Eight comes and goes. No sign of Andeanna. I don’t worry. She’s a woman, so I hardly expect her to be on time. But when nine o’clock ticks by, I’m sweating. She
can’t have got the pub wrong – we’ve been here before – but maybe we got our times mixed up. I ring her cell phone, but it’s switched off.
Joe’s mood darkens before mine. He was telling loads of terrible jokes earlier, but they’ve dried up and he’s tight-lipped now. Even though he doesn’t know her, he
guesses the truth before I do — she isn’t coming. He doesn’t say anything, but I can see by the way he keeps looking around that he’s embarrassed. Finally, with ten
o’clock looming, I try her cell again, then give up. ‘She’s blanked us.’
Joe sighs with relief at having the truth out in the open. ‘Maybe she was delayed,’ he says diplomatically. ‘Traffic. A puncture. An accident.’
‘No. She stood us up. She’s gone out of her way to avoid meeting you. I don’t know why, but she has. She told me she’d be here tonight, but I don’t think she ever
meant to come.’
‘Why would she be anxious to avoid me?’ Joe asks, startled.
I frown, considering it. ‘Maybe you know her. She said her maiden name was Emerson, but maybe she lied. Hell, Andeanna might an alias too. It wouldn’t be the first false name
she’s given me.’
Joe tugs at his beard. ‘You really think I might know her?’
I shrug. ‘Probably not. Maybe you’re right — she could have been delayed.’
‘Sure.’ Joe beams encouragingly. ‘She’ll most likely ring any minute now and
Similar Books
