Savage Awakening(18)

       
           



       

Nevertheless, he owed a tremendous debt of gratitude to the rebel  captain. Without his intervention-and Matt had come to believe there  never had been any government forces in the area-he'd never have got  away.

So why was he so unwilling to talk about it? He had nothing to be  ashamed of. He scowled. The truth was, he was ashamed. Ashamed of his  own weakness; of his helplessness in the face of danger; of the  stupidity he'd displayed in letting such a thing happen to him.

And, even though he knew it was crazy, he couldn't confess his deepest  fears to a total stranger and there was no one else. If his father had  still been alive, he might have been able to talk to him, but Alistair  Quinn had died while his son was in captivity. Another burden Matt had  had to bear since he got back.

Discussing his imprisonment with his mother had been out of the  question. Louise would have been horrified at the news that her son had  suffered any kind of brutality at the hands of his captors. She hadn't  even wanted to see the scars on his back, that had had to be treated at a  hospital and which some news hack had found out about and made such a  big thing of. She'd been delighted to have him home. But she definitely  didn't want to be reminded of what might have gone on while he was away.

Diane had remained the only possibility, but she had quickly diverted  him from any discussion of the squalid conditions he'd had to suffer.  Like his mother, she didn't want to think about the past. She wanted to  talk about the future, their future. A future, Matt now acknowledged,  that had never seemed more remote.

He dressed in a cotton vest and drawstring sweat pants and was drinking  his first coffee of the day when Fliss knocked at the back door. He knew  it was her. He could see her shadow through the windowed half-panels in  the door, and, although he could have done with a little more time to  regain his composure before seeing her again, he had no choice but to  let her in.

She wasn't alone. To his surprise, when he opened the door, Amy was  standing at her mother's side. They were both dressed in shorts and  T-shirts, Amy's hair, which was longer than her mother's and straighter,  caught up in a pony-tail.

'Hi, Quinn.'

Predictably, it was Amy who spoke first and Matt saw the way Fliss  winced at her daughter's familiarity. But she had evidently decided to  put what had happened the day before behind her and her tone was coolly  polite as she said, 'Amy's got a day's holiday today. I hoped you  wouldn't mind if she came and played in the garden while I'm working.'

'No.' Matt took a step back, silently inviting them inside. 'I don't  mind at all.' His eyes moved to the child and he managed a grin. 'Hello  again, Amy. Or are you calling yourself something else today?'

Amy giggled. 'Well … ' she said thoughtfully, putting a finger against her lips, but her mother intervened.

'Amy will do,' she said firmly, stepping inside. She glanced behind her.  'Don't go out of the garden, will you, Amy? And if you want anything,  come and knock at this door.'

'She can come and have a drink,' said Matt, not quite knowing why he'd made the suggestion, but clearly Fliss thought she did.

'It's not necessary,' she said, her cheeks a little pink. 'I'll be starting work straight away-'

'Well, as I've just made a pot of coffee, why don't we all have a drink  first?' suggested Matt drily, and Amy gave him a huge smile.

'Oh, yes, Mummy. Can we?'

She was obviously eager and Fliss, finding herself outvoted, had little  choice but to give in. All the same, Matt noticed that she ignored his  offer of a seat and took her coffee standing, her hip firmly wedged  against the counter behind her.

And, conversely, he found himself resenting her behaviour. A few moments  ago, he hadn't wanted to open the door to her, and now he was finding  her polite detachment hard to take. Dammit, he regretted what had  happened just as much as she did. More, probably. And she hadn't had to  contend with erotic dreams that had tormented his sleep and left him  feeling strangely off-key.

'Grandad's going to make a bigger place for Buttons,' Amy offered, after Matt had handed her a glass of fizzy lemonade.                       
       
           



       

'An enclosure,' corrected Fliss and Amy nodded.

'Yes. A "closure."' She glanced about her. 'Do you have a straw?'

'Amy!'

Fliss was impatient, but Matt was grateful to the child for lightening  the mood. 'Sorry,' he said, pulling a wry face. 'But I'll be sure and  have some for next time.'

Amy beamed. 'Colonel Phillips used to buy straws just for me,' she said  proudly. 'Did you know Colonel Phillips? He was very old.'

'Amy,' Fliss said again, but Matt was happy to continue the  conversation. At least with Amy there were no undercurrents; no  suspicion that Fliss had only agreed to stay to prove something to  herself.

'No, I didn't know Colonel Phillips,' he said, wishing Fliss would sit  down so he could do the same. He could feel an ache in his lumbar  region, which he guessed was the result of the fall he'd taken the day  before. 'He was gone before I bought the house.' He paused. 'Did he let  you come here with your Mummy, too?'

'Oh, yes.' Amy spoke airily. 'He used to like me to come and play games  with him. Board games, I mean. Draughts and ludo, that sort of thing.  Oh, and he had boxes and boxes of coins and stuff. I used to like  looking at them.'

'I bet.' Matt's eyes moved thoughtfully to Fliss's solemn face and then  away again. What was she thinking? he wondered. That he was using the  child to find out more about her? He considered. 'I'm afraid I don't  have any coins, but I do have lots of books that need sorting out. How  would you like to help me this morning? We could sort them out  together.'

'It's a fine morning,' said Fliss at once. 'Amy will be happy enough in the garden. You don't have to entertain her, Mr Quinn.'

'I know I don't,' said Matt, and, seeing the little girl's disappointed  face, he couldn't help responding to it. 'But I mean it. Amy can help  me. You saw how many boxes of books there are.'

'I'm a good reader,' put in Amy at once. 'Mrs Hill says I'm the best reader in my class.'

'Brilliant,' said Matt, with a rueful grin at Fliss. 'You don't mind, do you?'

Fliss allowed a sigh to escape her. 'I-of course I don't mind, but-'

'That's settled, then,' said Matt, and, deciding there was no point in  being proud, he sank gratefully into a chair at the table. 'I'll be glad  of her help, and if she gets bored she can always go outside.'

'I won't get bored,' declared Amy, but Matt could see that Fliss still had her doubts.

'If you need help … ' she began, but he shook his head.

'She'll be good company,' he assured her. If only because she would stop him from dwelling on other things. 'We'll be fine.'

'Well, it's very kind of you,' Fliss said awkwardly, and he glimpsed a  trace of empathy at last. She finished her coffee and put down her cup.  'I'll leave you to it, then.' She bent and gave Amy a kiss. 'You be good  now,' she added. 'And don't get in Mr Quinn's way.'

The morning passed remarkably quickly. Matt hadn't exaggerated when he'd  said that Amy would be good company. She was. She liked to talk. She  chattered on about everything, from school and her family to what she'd  watched on television the night before. And he discovered she wasn't at  all inhibited about the fact that she didn't know her father.

'He went away before I was born,' she said matter-of-factly, spilling  books, that Matt had just sorted into categories, over his desk. 'Where  do you want me to put these?'

'Oh-just leave them where they are,' said Matt resignedly, beginning to  sort them all over again. 'You open that box over there. You might find  something interesting in it.'

Amy went to squat beside the box he'd indicated, and Matt wondered if  she'd say any more about her father. But she didn't. Instead, she used  the scissors to cut the string that bound the box, and then hauled out  the first of the photograph albums that were inside.                       
       
           



       

'Is this yours?' she asked, and Matt nodded.

'It's a kind of picture record of the different stories I used to report  for Thames Valley News,' he explained. 'I thought you might find it  more interesting than all these reference books.'

Amy's eyes widened. 'Did you used to work on television?' she exclaimed. 'Oh, wow! That's so cool.'

'It was just a job,' said Matt modestly, finding her innocent admiration  much more appealing than the insincere flattery he'd received from  various quarters since he'd got back. All the same, he didn't deserve  it, and to divert her he bent and pointed to a man pictured in one of  the stills. 'Did you know he used to be the President of Abuqara?'

Amy stared. 'Have you met him?'