37

Clive felt all the guilt of a married man, since his wife had not divorced him. Noreen probably didn’t know about his present movements or whereabouts. On the other hand she hadn’t fully informed him; so he had no information about what she may be doing over there. His ex-wife had absconded to Seattle on a safer bet, taking their son with her. No doubt she was settling into the new house, enjoying the new lifestyle, establishing the new business over there. Why hadn’t she been in contact at all? Or had he missed her communications, due to his erratic movements? After all he only had second-hand explanations of her actions and motivations.

Yet, for all his conflicted thoughts, he felt a powerful attraction to Pixie. Their mutual attraction was intensified by the danger he faced, they faced. Their passion was inflamed by an existential sense of only having each other; of only being able to depend on each other.

This isolation induced vertigo and dread in Clive. He was in an impossibly fragile place in his life, which no man could envy. The sensation contrasted with the excitement of holding Pixie in his arms, absorbing her passionate kisses, of feeling her smooth cheeks against his face, of breathing her exquisite feminine scents. There was a dizzying unreality to this combination.

“Are you coming back to the hotel with me?” Clive wondered.

“That wouldn’t be a clever move,” she demurred.

“Yes, but I thought you’d feel safer... if we stayed together,” Pitt insisted.

“It’s true that we only have each other,” she concurred.

“I definitely want to make love to you,” Clive said.

“When we feel more relaxed,” she told him.

“That’s when I can repair my thoughts,” he told her. “When I can bring back vital evidence of the deal, with your support.”

“But I don’t know where you put your memory either. I’m literally as lost as you,” she reminded him.

“Fair enough, but if I could get a clue about my strategy at the time,” he said, squeezing his mind again.

“Sadly you didn’t include me on that, Clive.”

There was a hint of fear and panic etched into her refined features. Superficially at least the scene was normal; they didn’t stand out. The Square was punctuated with such lovers, from home and abroad, on holiday or after work; as varied and cosmopolitan as the patients at the ZNT hospital, having their minds and ideas set.

“We may be safer if we separate,” Pixie replied.

“How can we possibly separate? I want to stick with you now!”

“We are being watched again,” she told him.

“Are you serious? How can they find us here?” he lamented.

“They’ve literally caught up with us again...unless we are unlucky to attract the attention of those creepy guys over there. Do you see?”

“Where are they?” Pitt said. He attempted to look back over his shoulder, without making the fact too obvious.

“Enjoying a beer outside that bar, under a striped canopy in the plaza....do you see? Do you recognise them?”

“Where do you mean? Are you sure they are suspicious?”

“Unless we are interesting to a group of voyeurs,” she remarked.

“You get all types here. You picked a right place to meet, didn’t you?”

“They seem very concentrated on us. Although at this moment they have no idea we are watching them back,” she added.

“Now I see them,” he told her. “What a bunch of charmers. An unmistakable combination of designer labels and obsessive gym work. Maybe we’ve already met, but after a while they all look the same,” Clive remarked.

He observed them, as secretly as possible; took in their burning goggle eyed looks, and discomforted shuffling between strained conversations, attempting to seem casual over inflated tourist beers. In truth nobody gave even this group of heavies a second look. Leicester Square is a marginal space, where people could operate freely.

“They are watching us,” he noted.

“I told you.”

“What concerns me is that they’ve seen you, with me. It’s the first time they have linked us, since my return. These things get around you know.” Nerves made him joke at this stage. He was secretly devastated that she was identified and involved.

“They already think that we are lovers. Now they have literally seen us kiss and hug. Hopefully they imagine I am a silly girl... that I don’t understand anything. Anyway I know about personal danger. When I was a schoolgirl in Geneva my boyfriend was on the run from national service. He faced prison and disgrace in his own country. I felt an intense risk every time we met in public... we usually met under the bridge in the old town,” she recalled.

“Try to land softly at the bottom of Sep’s heart. Don’t let him realise that you’re even more rebellious than his daughter,” he urged her.

“Sep has no idea that I looked through hospital databases.”

“Then don’t ruin his illusions, Pix,” he told her. “Let him be fond and foolish.”

“Do you have any other ideas Clive?” she replied. “We must literally separate now. We should dash into the crowds in opposite directions. We’ll be hidden immediately if we do that. I’ll get towards Shaftsbury Avenue and you can go into Piccadilly Circus. Just get on the tube as normal, do you understand?”

“They must have found where I’m staying now... the hotel. I’m not going back to that place...together or alone,” he argued.

“You see I had a clever idea in meeting in Leicester Square, because there are always crowds. It will be difficult for them to isolate us.”

“I’m not exactly in a hurry to separate from you,” Clive said. “You’ll need a bit of protection at this point. We should try to get out of the country together. I’m serious. That isn’t a guarantee of safety. But it will confuse them and give us more time.”

“If you gave up fighting the deal,” she said. “If you were able to forget...”

“You should know the chances of that,” he replied. Warily, cautiously, he kept an eye on that bunch of guys, who were eyeing him back, nervously across the square.

“Why don’t you borrow another phone and call me up? When you feel there’s a proper moment?” Pixie suggested.

“What happens if they ask you about our date?” he replied tensely.

“There’s no more information to report back,” she insisted.

Pitt was sceptical of her chances, but he kept his fears to himself. “All right Pixie, I agree that I’m going to call you later... at the first opportunity.”

“Then kiss me again Clive and say good night.”

He carried out this instruction and then, without hesitation, they dashed into opposite directions. Immediately Pitt felt himself surrounded by other bodies, trying to squeeze through packed spaces; trying to get between those hordes of visitors, making their ways in multiple directions, towards the numerous attractions of the capital city.

She was gone, like a bottle top in a rip tide; even while he retained impressions of her touches and kisses. He was pressing towards the even more intense crush of Piccadilly Circus, as she had suggested.