Date: Wednesday 26th April Time: 12:54 Irina Akis
The room looked just right. In one corner she had set up a small table for refreshments and a pile of cushions for the children to sit on. In the other corner was Abrams’ king size waterbed, covered with a red silk sheet and black lace cushions. The daylight was obscured by heavy curtains, so that the room was lit by lamps. It looked seductive and sensual. She was pleased with the effect. It was much better using Abrams’ parents’ house than the studio, even if it was a way out of the city. She left the door to the en-suite bathroom ajar so that a little more light fell into the room, and opened the old casement window, leaning out to breathe in the soft afternoon air. Spring was here already.
Irina had been determined that her films would be of a better quality than the rubbish usually available, a standard that had repaid her efforts handsomely over the past four years. A standard that would, at last, allow her to get away from her father. He had held her body and soul for thirty-six years, had taken her mother, her brother and would take her child if he could find him. But now, she could pay back all that she owed him and walk away. She would join her son in Sweden and they would have a different, cleaner life.
Irina had shrugged off any guilt about her methods for paying off her debt years ago. No one had cared what her father had done to her when she was a small child. No one had stopped him parading her and finally selling her to his friends. There was no loving mother to spirit her away like she had spirited her own boy out of the country. So why should she care about squalid children in a foreign country? They were well paid. She checked her reflection in the mirror and removed a tiny piece of fluff from her black top.
Turning away, Irina parted the curtains and looked out onto the drive again. She had a nagging feeling that Grigor had not gone shopping at all, but had tried to find Filip in the hospital. Her heart thumped as she considered that he might try to rescue Filip and return him to the house. They could have the whole of the British police force after them if he did something stupid. She should never have taken on two such close friends to assist her. She knew better than anyone that the ties that bind you to the past are the strongest. Until you break them, that is.
Irina pulled out her phone and tried to call him, but the phone went straight to voicemail.
‘Answer the phone, Grigor,’ she shouted. ‘Don’t you ignore me. Answer the fucking phone!’ Enraged, she threw the phone onto the bed. Nobody ignored her and walked away. She picked up a china figurine from the window ledge and hurled it to the floor. It bounced on the thick carpet. She screamed at the ornament for not breaking. Screamed at Grigor for caring more about Filip than he did about her. Screamed at her sick bastard of a father. Screamed at her mother for dying instead of saving her. Screamed for herself until the clamour faded to a hoarse whisper and she could lie on the bed, spent and whimpering. She slept for an hour.
Calm after her outburst, Irina rinsed her face and re-applied her make-up in the bathroom, helping herself to Abrams’ mother’s creams. She smoked a joint in the over-stuffed living room. It was all going to be fine. The last job. The last trip. It would be fine.
Grigor would return. He would be too frightened of the consequences to run away. She was not going to take Filip back with them whatever happened. He had to stay and pay the price for being caught, the fool.
Irina checked her watch. Three hours until they would start filming. She had drinks, drugs, and snacks to prepare. She wanted the new ones quiet and compliant.