of receiving my honorary award. It’s obligatory. In the small print on the contract I signed it insisted on total compliance—I’m the archetypal good citizen being rewarded for services rendered to Queen and country.
Bullshit!
As the Rolls edges closer to home, microscopic molecules merge and create an opaque barrier between me and the world blurring outside the windows. With my forefinger I draw a heart; it’s not perfect, it’s not symmetrical but it’s recognisable as a love heart. Inside it I draw a jagged A + B, and in that singular act, I’m reminded of my state of utter powerlessness.
The capitalised A dissolves; strips of moisture descend like tears, washing away the B. In what seems like the blink of an eye, our seemingly unbreakable bond has been vaporised. All that is left is my ghostly reflection on smeared glass.
Jamie spoke tonight about his craft; photography having ‘little to do with the things you see and everything to do with the way you see them.’
Up until tonight, I saw only one way out of our intolerable situation, but now…
Like a woman with the gift of foresight, or some kind of prophetic talent, Beth urged me to promise not to put myself in dangerous situations, as if she could look into the future and see an ominous occasion brewing like a curse.
Should I rethink my plan?
Could my association with Pendleton blow up in my face, leaving me fearing for the welfare of my family, or—worse still … dead?
Lester parks up outside Stone Heath and sensing my meditative mood, remains seated for a minute or two. He inspects the street and opens my door, in no hurry to get inside.
“Thanks.” I step out onto a pavement peppered with raindrops, having spent the night with two talented individuals. Thanks to Jamie, I see what lies ahead with fresh eyes. And thanks to Lester, I’ve seen first-hand what it means to use your status to ensure someone you care about lives a happier, drama-free life.
Two valuable lessons learned—one decision made.
Tomorrow I’ll go ahead with the rehearsal. On Friday I’ll do whatever is necessary to put this fucking nightmare behind us, undaunted and undeterred and let the chips fall where they may—Beth deserves nothing less.
Thursday
AS THE LAUNCH MOVES away from the Athena, for what might be the last time, I cast a carefree glimpse of the pristine wedge of white that has been my floating residence for almost three weeks. Of course, there have been trips onto dry land: to the hospital, a half-moon of golden sand, sight-seeing and that day trip to see Ayden two days ago, but apart from that, it has been my home from home.
I heard the launch making this same journey this morning at dawn, laden with the remaining pieces of equipment. This second trip has Bernie, Sam, Richard and me gripping onto the sides while Phil steers the small boat through the rippling tide. My cheeks ripple as he picks up speed; the salt clings to my lips and tingles my tongue, leaving a bad taste in my mouth. It’s only nine o’clock and there is that unmistakable smell of ocean brine and damp air—I’ll remember it for as long as I live.
The ten-minute journey to the Port de Cannes gives me time enough to contemplate my fate. I didn’t sleep well and the fearful flashes of what might go wrong came and went like lightening. I close my eyes and breathe deeply, combining air and sea salt with the heat from my lungs. Silently I’m praying it will invigorate every molecule and muscle in my body with the force of jet fuel. I need to be fired up, focused and fearless if I’m to play my part—I know I’m the weak link in this unbreakable chain of courageous men and women.
I don’t want to let anyone down.
By ten o’clock the morning mist has cleared, but I’ve been told to remain indoors—the pool and the patio are out of bounds. From the upstairs window of this three-story villa, I can see across the rooftops of detached homes and hotels all the way to the sea. Phil said the sliver of white in the ocean is our Athena; there she rests unmanned but unconcerned about the prospect of being boarded or claimed—her imposing form is enough to keep unwelcome guests at bay.
Lance has installed his equipment in the largest of the bedrooms and has been monitoring the progress of our assailants for most of the night. When I enter the room,