‘And don’t pretend you’re doing it for us!’
‘But I am; if I accepted, I would be, to an extent …’
‘The bottom line is I don’t think you should make a decision based on money, that’s all.’
Which is a noble sentiment, and a very Connie thing to say, Connie the nurturing artist. But substitute that chilly word ‘money’ for ‘security’ or ‘safety’, substitute ‘money’ for ‘comfort’ or ‘peace of mind’ or ‘well-being’, ‘a good education’ or ‘travel’ or simply ‘a happy family’. Often — not always, but often — didn’t they equate to the same thing?
‘No,’ said Connie. ‘Not at all.’
‘So what would you have me do? If it was up to you?’
‘It isn’t up to me. It’s your job, your career—’
‘But if it was up to you?’
‘I wouldn’t take the job. You’ll lose your freedom. You’ll be working for accountants, not for yourself. If you’re not making money for them, they’ll cut you off and you’ll hate that, and it won’t be fun. There’ll be no joy in it. Find something better paid or more secure by all means, but I wouldn’t take this job.’
I took the job.
She did not berate me for it, or very rarely, though Albie certainly would in years to come. But neither was she sympathetic if I struggled in at eight or nine or ten at night, and there was no doubt in my mind that I had slipped somewhat in her estimation. An awful feeling, that; sliding down the scree, scrabbling at the dust but unable to get a grip. That shine, the idealism I suppose, that had caught Connie’s attention on the night we met, had faded. It couldn’t last but still, I regretted its passing. Connie had always said I was at my most attractive when I talked about my work. ‘The lights come on,’ she had said. Now I’d have to find another way to make that happen.
A little before seven a.m. I was woken by a warder bearing an excellent cup of coffee. I had eaten nothing since the jelly sweet that I’d taken from the boy on the Siena train, and though the thick black liquid burned my mouth and made my stomach spasm, it was delicious. I sat on the edge of the cell bench, sipped from the plastic cup, rubbed my eyes and forced myself to acknowledge the full, all-encompassing hopelessness of my situation.
Grimly, I sketched out my retreat to London. I would walk down the hill to Siena station, find out the cost of a single ticket to Florence, and plead with the clerk — in English? — to take my wristwatch and phone as security for the train ticket. That accomplished, I’d retrieve my property in Florence, withdraw cash, return to Siena to buy back my watch and phone, then try and catch the next plane to London from Pisa. It was a dull and dispiriting plan, requiring some leniency on the part of the Italian Rail Service, but the alternative — phoning Connie and asking her to wire some money — was unacceptable. What did that mean, anyway, ‘wiring money’? It was one of those things that people only did in films.
I switched on my telephone. Battery power stood at 2 per cent. Without considering what I would say, I decided to call home. I pictured Connie’s phone on top of her pile of books, her sleeping figure, recalled the comforting scent of the sheets, and I imagined how things might have been had all gone to plan. Imagined the sound of a car on the driveway, Connie going to the window, seeing Albie and me stepping out of the taxi, Albie smiling a little shame-facedly, raising his hand to the bedroom window, me joining him, my arm around his shoulder. I imagined the tears of gratitude in Connie’s eyes as she ran for the door. I had returned him safe and sound as I had promised. ‘You found him! In all of Europe! Douglas, how did you do it? You clever, brilliant man—’
Back in the real world, Connie picked up. ‘Hello?’
‘Darling, it’s me—’
‘It’s six in the morning, Douglas!’
‘I know, I’m sorry, but the phone’s about to die, and I wanted to tell you—’
I heard the rustle of sheets as she sat up in bed. ‘Douglas, have you found him? Is he safe?’
‘I lost him. I almost had him, almost, almost, but I lost him.’
A sigh. ‘Oh, Douglas.’
‘You mustn’t worry, he’s perfectly safe and well, I know that—’
‘How can you know that?’
‘I found Kat.’
‘How on earth did you—?’
‘It’s a long story. My phone’s about to run out. Anyway, I’m sorry, I failed.’
‘Douglas, you didn’t “fail”.’
‘Well, I didn’t achieve my result, so yes, I did fail.’
‘But at least we know he’s safe. Where are you now? Are there people with you? Are you safe, are you well?’
‘I’m in a hotel, in Siena.’ I tapped the stainless-steel toilet with my toe. ‘It’s very nice.’
‘Do you want me to come out?’
‘No, no, I want to come home.’
‘Good idea. Come home, Douglas. We’ll wait for him together here.’
‘I’ll be back tonight, tomorrow at the latest.’
‘I’ll be waiting. And Douglas? At least you tried. I’m grateful—’
‘Go back to sleep.’
‘And when you come home—’
A bleep, and the phone died. I fastened my watch, placed the phone in my pocket, folded my blanket neatly on the bench and left my cell, closing the door behind me.
