Savage Awakening(19)

'Oh, yeah.' Matt's jaw tightened and he wondered why he'd bothered to  bring Abraham Adil to her attention. 'That was why I was in Abuqara. To  report on the rebellion that was trying to get rid of his  administration.'

'And did they?' Amy asked, her interest as innocent as her praise, and Matt sighed.

'Get rid of the government?' And after a quick nod of assent,  'Eventually.' He pulled a face. 'Unfortunately, the new government is  likely to be just as corrupt.'

'Corrupt?' Amy frowned.

'Bad,' amended Matt, straightening again with an effort. 'There are oil  reserves in Abuqara and everyone wants to control them. Not always for  humanitarian reasons.'

Amy clearly didn't understand now, and he realised he shouldn't be  talking of such things to her. She didn't understand. How could she? In  her world-thank goodness-people didn't lie and cheat and torture to gain  their own ends.

'Was it this man who put you in prison?' she asked suddenly, and Matt caught his breath.

'Who told you I'd been in prison?' he demanded, feeling unexpectedly betrayed. 'Your mother?'

Amy wouldn't look at him now. 'No one told me,' she muttered, turning  another page of the album and pretending to be interested in a picture  of sand-dunes. 'Is this in Abuqara, too?'

Matt sighed. 'Amy,' he said sternly. 'How did you find out?'

Amy glanced at him then, her brows arched in artless enquiry. 'How did I find out what?'

'Amy!'

She sighed. 'If you must know, I heard Grandad talking to Mummy,' she  admitted in a low voice. 'He was annoyed because she hadn't told him who  you were.'

Matt hesitated. 'And do you know who I am, Amy?'

She gave a careless shrug. 'Yes.'

'So who am I?'

'You're Matthew Quinn,' she responded at once. 'You told me who you were.'

'Mmm.' Matt considered her answer. 'I suppose I did. Not that it  matters. The whole village probably knows I've bought this place.'

Amy's brows drew together again. 'Do you mind?' she asked, and he was  unwillingly touched by her sincerity. 'Are you ashamed because they put  you in prison?'

'No.' Matt wished it were that simple.

'So why did they put you in prison? What did you do wrong?'

Matt sighed. 'In Abuqara, you don't have to do anything wrong to be put  in prison.' He grimaced. 'If you're in the wrong place at the wrong  time, you don't have a choice.'

Amy put the photograph album aside. 'And you were in the wrong place at the wrong time?'

'Yeah.'

'So why don't you want people to know where you are now?' she asked practically, and he couldn't prevent a wry smile.

'Do you know what the media is?'

Amy shook her head. 'No.'

'Well, it's newspapers and magazines and television reporters-'

'Like you?'

'Like I used to be,' he admitted honestly. 'Since I got back, they've all wanted a piece of me.'

'A piece of you?' Amy was perplexed. 'You mean, they want to cut you up?'

In a manner of speaking, thought Matt drily, but he didn't say it. 'I  mean, they all want a story-my story,' he said instead. 'I guess getting  kidnapped by guerrillas is news. They want to know how I survived it.'                       
       
           



       

'Gorillas?' said Amy curiously. 'Why would gorillas want to kidnap you? Did they hurt you?'

Matt couldn't help himself. He laughed, and, seeing his amusement, Amy  laughed, too. For a few moments, they were both convulsed with mirth,  and it was only when the door opened and Fliss appeared that Matt  realised she must have heard them and wondered what on earth was going  on.

'Is everything all right?' she asked, and Matt made an effort to control  himself. But it was the first time he'd laughed so unrestrainedly since  he got back from Abuqara, and it felt good. Really good.

'Everything's fine,' he said now, as Amy scrubbed the heels of her hands  over her wet eyes. 'Amy said something funny, that's all.'

'Did you know Quinn was kidnapped by gorillas?' asked the little girl,  trying to stifle her giggles, and Matt saw the look of comprehension  that crossed her mother's face.

'Guerrillas, Amy,' she said, and then, as if realising she was being too pedantic, she shook her head.

'Well, I can see you've been having a good time,' she remarked wryly. 'Are you ready to go home now?'

Amy's face dropped, and even Matt felt a reluctance to let her go. 'Is  it that time already?' he asked, gazing at his watch in disbelief. 'I  had no idea.'

'Do we have to go, Mum?' protested Amy. She hurriedly picked up the  album again and opened it at the page showing the picture of Abraham  Adil. 'Look, that's the President of Abuqara. Quinn says he knows him.'

'Really?' Fliss barely glanced at the picture before looking at Matt  again with concerned eyes. 'You haven't been telling Amy about-well,  about your experiences, have you?' she asked tightly, and he gave her a  narrow-eyed look.

'Oh, yeah,' he said. Then, seeing her dismay, he relented. 'What do you think I am? Crazy?'

'Of course not.' Her response was automatic, but he couldn't make up his  mind whether he believed her or not. And, dammit, he hadn't exactly  given her a good impression of himself so far.

'Look, we were just talking, that's all,' he muttered gruffly. 'If  anything, I was giving her a history lesson. About the problems in North  Africa.' He paused and then continued wearily, 'She already knew I'd  been in prison. Perhaps you ought to ask her how she knew about that.'





CHAPTER NINE





FLISS had to work at the pub that evening.

She didn't feel like it, particularly after the way she'd left the Old  Coaching House that afternoon. She felt on edge and uneasy, ready to  snap at the first wrong word. But, although she would have liked to  blame Matt for her bad mood, she knew it wasn't his fault that she felt  so depressed.

Yet it seemed that every time she and Matt seemed to be making some  progress, something happened to upset the balance. This time, it was  what Amy had overheard-and apparently related to him-and she hadn't  known what to say when he'd accused her of gossiping about him at home.

Of course, his response had been triggered by her reaction to Amy's  excitement over the photographs. She'd immediately jumped to the wrong  conclusion and there was no excuse for that. But, dammit, her fears had  been fuelled by what her father had told her. If he hadn't filled her  head with what he'd heard about Matt's supposed instability, she'd never  have suspected him of telling Amy horror stories in the first place.

Not that those things weren't constantly on her mind, too, she conceded  unhappily, heading back to the restaurant to take another order.  Although she'd attempted to convince herself that the scars she'd seen  on his back looked worse than they actually were, the images they'd  evoked simply wouldn't go away. What had he done, for God's sake, to  deserve such punishment? What kind of monster had done that to him? Did  anyone ever recover from that kind of experience?

'Hello, Fliss.'

Someone spoke, a man, and Fliss, who had been concentrating on adding  the table's number to her order pad, looked up in surprise.

Harry Gilchrist was one of the four young people who had recently been  shown to a table in the window. He and another man Fliss knew by sight  were sitting opposite two young women she didn't recognise. Pasting on a  friendly smile, she returned his greeting and then said, 'Are you ready  to order?'                       
       
           



       

'What are your specials?' asked the other man, nodding towards the extra  dishes that were posted on a board beside the bar. He raised his  eyebrows at his companion. 'I fancy a steak.'

'Do you?' she said archly. 'I fancy something else entirely.'

Fliss ignored this and recited the evening's special dishes, but she  could see that Harry wasn't comfortable with his friends' behaviour.  'Are you OK, Fliss?' he asked, showing her the kind of attention he  should have been showing his girlfriend. 'I heard you'd gone to work for  our local celebrity. What's he like?'

Fliss's lips tightened. 'You should know, Harry. I saw you talking to him yourself the other afternoon.'

Harry looked a little put out now and Fliss knew she shouldn't have  taken her bad mood out on him. 'I only meant what's he like to work  for,' he muttered. 'He's bit of a weirdo, isn't he?'

'Who, Matthew Quinn?' asked his male companion with interest. 'I didn't know you knew him, Gil.'

'I don't,' said Harry shortly, giving Fliss a resentful look. 'He came  into the store, that's all.' He paused, before returning to his earlier  comment. 'That's what I've heard, anyway.'

'Well, you heard wrong,' said Fliss, her nails digging into her pad.  'Now, have you decided what you want to eat or shall I come back?'

She was flushed when she got back to the kitchen and Eileen Reardon  regarded her curiously. 'Is something wrong, love?' she asked, her  gentle Irish brogue soft with concern. 'I saw Harry Gilchrist come in.  What's he been saying to you?'

'Oh-nothing.' Fliss couldn't let Eileen think Harry was to blame. In all  honesty, he had only been trying to be friendly, as always. 'I-it's  very warm in there, that's all.'