The Son by Marc Santailler

you alone. But not until then!’
    He was quivering with fury, but I was past caring myself.
    â€˜I’ll see you outside, Eric, when you’ve finished. I’ll wait in my car.’
    I waited an hour for Eric to come out. I had parked up the street this time, close to the restaurant. I was afraid he might duck out the back way, but in due course he emerged. He walked along through the pedestrian mall but I drove round and caught up with him on the other side. I slowed down beside him.
    â€˜Go away!’ he cried, and I heard the anguish in his voice. ‘You heard him. Why are you harassing me?’
    â€˜We need to talk, Eric,’ I said. ‘Come on. I’ll drive you home. Then I’ll leave you alone.’
    I leaned over and pushed the door open and he grudgingly got in.
    â€˜Why do you keep pestering me like this?’ he said as I drove off.
    â€˜Because you don’t know what you’re getting into, Eric.’ I tried a more reasonable tone. ‘That man’s a thug, and you’re letting yourself get dragged into something which has nothing to do with you. Let him fight his little wars if he wants, but why should you waste your time on him and his group?’
    â€˜They’re my friends! They’ve looked after me.’
    â€˜So what? You’re working for him, aren’t you? You’re earning your pay? You don’t owe him anything else! All that talk of fighting the communists is outdated, Eric. It’s prehistoric!’
    â€˜You have no right to tell me how to live my life!’
    â€˜Somebody has to, when you make that kind of mistake. Your father’s dead, and so’s your uncle and at least one of your grandfathers. Whether you like it or not I’m probably the nearest thing you have to a male relative in this country.’
    â€˜You’re only doing it to get close to my aunt! Why did you ask her to come and live with you? That really upset her!’
    As I’d guessed. Why did she have to tell him? I really must have got under her skin.
    â€˜Look, I only suggested it so she’d be able to stay longer.’ That was less than the truth, but I wasn’t going to tell him that. ‘She couldn’t stay with the cousins forever!’ I took a breath. ‘And besides, what’s wrong if I am attracted to her? She’s a very attractive woman! Don’t tell me you object to that!’
    He said nothing. For the first time it struck me that he might be a little jealous.
    â€˜In the meantime I think you’re heading straight into trouble with that gang of yours.’
    â€˜You don’t know about the communists! They killed my father. They killed my grandfather! My mother died because of them! Don’t preach to me about forgiveness!’
    We’d reached his house. I pulled up outside, and tried one more time.
    â€˜Look, Eric,’ I said more gently. ‘I understand. But not this way! They’re not all like that. And you can’t solve the past with more violence. You’ll only end up destroying yourself.’
    â€˜They’re not thugs! They’re my friends, and they’ve done more for me than you’ll ever do! Stop pestering me like this! And stop pestering my aunt too. I know what you want! You just want to fuck her! Well go fuck yourself! She doesn’t want you, and I don’t want you! So piss off!’
    He got out of the car, slamming the door behind him. The front door to the house opened and one of the young men looked out, attracted by the noise. With a sinking heart I watched Eric storm inside.

    For an ex-spy who was supposed to be good at handling people I’d made a right mess of things: Eric, Vo Khanh, Mr Bach, even Hao on the personal front. Only Quang stood by me, and only his innate courtesy and the Vietnamese reluctance to make you lose face had stopped him from telling me straight out what a fool I’d been to go and see Bach.
    I knew why I