Fiona opened her eyes, the ceiling above her was a dirty beige with tiny cracks creeping outwards from a centre ceiling rose. She was laid on a bed, her head nestled in a soft pillow. Gently she turned her head to the left and saw Stan sitting in a comfy cottage chair beside the bed. His smile, when he saw she was awake, highlighted his handsome, tanned face. He obviously hadn’t slept for his short, hair was in disarray and the fringe, which swept over his forehead, was squashed to his skin. He leaned forward and Fiona saw a sparkle in his eyes.
‘How are you feeling?’ he asked.
‘Better than you look,’ she lied.
Stan laughed and, rubbing the stubble on his face, he said, ‘You don’t like the rough look?’
Fiona mused for a moment, then said, ‘Suits you, but dreadful for kissing.’ She laughed but quickly stopped as the pain in her chest squeezed her. She took a deep breath.
Stan got up and offered her a cup with a straw in it. He gently raised her head high enough so she could drink without choking. The water was cool and refreshing and Fiona sipped a few mouthfuls. She hadn’t realised how thirsty she was, then her stomach grumbled, or how hungry.
Stan must have realised the same thing. ‘I’ll get you something to eat.’
‘Make it a whole hog, I’m famished.’
Stan chuckled and walked way. Fiona watched him leave, noticing how his gait was like that of a cowboy. When he had gone, she took note of the room. It looked quite an old room, with walls of whitewashed stone and a door made of old plank wood, stained a dark brown. The window, opposite her bed, had a dark metal-looking frame with the glass split into nine windowpanes. The curtains looked like heavy Victorian tapestry. She looked at the wooden floor and noticed large, colourful rugs either side of the bed. Even the bed and bedside cabinets looked weathered, like they had been made from recycled wood. Through the window she saw fields spreading out into the distance.
Stan returned. ‘Food’s coming.’
‘Where are we?’
‘A small village in France, near Broon. It’s a friend’s house.’ Stan sat down in the chair.
‘France!’ Fiona exclaimed. ‘How did you mange that?’ She stared at him shocked, remembering she hadn’t got anything with her, not even her passport.
Stan smiled. ‘A minor detail.’
Fiona tried to ease herself up, but the pain was too much. She groaned and rested back.
Stan got up and helped pack some pillows behind her, then he gently lifted her slowly, allowing her time, between each movement, to take deep breaths to contain her discomfort until she was sitting. He pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped away the sweat on her face. ‘Do you need something for the pain?’
Fiona looked at him. ‘You’re a doctor too?’
Stan laughed, ‘No, I’ve got tablets. Do you want some?’
Fiona rested back against the pillows. ‘No, I think I’d prefer you to mop my brow.’
Stan shook his head in, what seemed, disbelief and returned to his chair. ‘Do you realise what you’ve been through?’ he asked.
Fiona groaned softly as she shifted herself round to get a better look at him. ‘Yes,’ she said, her voice trembling slightly. ‘But people have died because of me and I don’t know why?’ She felt his eyes upon her, piercing and penetrating making her realise that she was looking at a man who had killed. She felt a shiver of anxiousness for a moment, then it was replaced by gratitude, for he had killed so she could live.
Stan’s South African drawl was strong when he replied, ‘Don’t you feel sorry for them.’
‘But the policeman,’ Fiona whispered. She saw a flicker of regret in his face, before he said, ‘It was unfortunate but nothing I could do.’
‘Why were they after me, what did I do?’ Fiona could feel tears coming to her eyes. She forced them away.
‘You did nothing. They wanted Mark, or Adrian as he was known.’
Fiona looked at him, the shock of his words sinking into her mind. ‘Mark isn’t his real name? Does Jane know?’
Stan nodded. ‘I don’t have the full story, just what James has told me. The man, behind those two thugs, is called Ferrand and he wants something from Mark.’
Fiona closed her eyes, how could this be? It sounded like something from a movie and she was caught up in it. She heard him get up and felt him sit on the bed. She opened her eyes when he gently took hold of her right hand.
‘You are a strong woman. What you endured, you didn’t deserve.’
‘But I wasn’t strong enough.’ The tears she had pushed back earlier returned to fill her eyes. ‘I… I told them where Jane was.’
Stan stroked the palm of her hand, avoiding the two broken fingers that were strapped together. ‘You survived. You did what you had to.’ His hand moved to touch the swellings on her face. ‘You suffered a long time, didn’t you?’
Fiona nodded slightly, remembering the onslaught of punches that had hit her face. The memory triggered more tears, and desperately she tried blinking them away. Some managed to escape and trickle down her cheek onto his fingers. She saw a flash of anger ripple across his face. ‘It’s okay,’ she whispered. ‘You stopped it happening, again. You saved me.’
The anger vanished, his eyes closed and his expression seemed to be filled with pain. When he opened his eyes again, she saw a deep sadness in him. ‘What happened to you?’ she asked softly.
Stan turned away with a shrug and a grunt of a laugh.
‘Please, I’d like to know.’
He glanced back and although he tried to smile, Fiona could see he was filled with deep emotion. ‘You remind me of someone I once knew.’
‘A lover maybe?’ Fiona couldn’t resist puckering up her swollen lips.
Stan’s fading smile grew into a grin. ‘I don’t believe you,’ he laughed.
‘Believe what? I’ve not told you anything yet.’ She heard him chuckle. ‘So who was she?’ Fiona pressed, sensing he was more relaxed now.
‘A friend, who got into trouble and I wasn’t there for her.’
‘She died?’ Fiona prompted softly.
He looked away and was about to get off the bed when Fiona caught hold of his hand with her thumb and forefinger. He looked back to her.
‘You didn’t get to her in time to save her, did you?’ Fiona whispered. He nodded, dropping his gaze to the floor. ‘I’m so sorry,’ Fiona said gently, her fingers squeezing his hand. He remained sat on the bed, looking at the floor, in silence.
Tiredness was creeping through her body and her eyes were heavy from the holding of her tears. She didn’t want to sleep but knew she couldn’t fight the need of her body to rest. She relaxed her head back into the pillows and closed her eyes. ‘I’m glad you saved me,’ she murmured.
The mattress moved as Stan got up and, easing his hand from hers, he gently placed her hand across her body. She felt the warmth of his breath near her face and heard him whisper, ‘I’m glad I saved you too.’ Then his lips gently touched her swollen cheek for a second, before he moved away. As she drifted off to sleep, she had one thought: I hope he’s still single.
* * *
Fiona was sat up in bed just finishing eating a bowl of warm, nourishing porridge. Her strength was returning and the pain in her chest and stomach was easing every day. She wasn’t sure how long it had been since Stan had got her out of the hospital, but she calculated that three days had gone by since she had first woken up in the room. A local French doctor had visited her everyday and whilst she didn’t understand what he was saying, she got the idea that he was pleased with her progress.
She hadn’t seen much of Stan, although she knew he often sat with her at night when she was sleeping. She had caught a glimpse of him one night, when the pain had woken her, unexpectedly.
There was a faint knock on the door and a small, slim, dark-haired woman entered.
‘Bonjour, Fiona.’
‘Bonjour, Madame Herbert.’
The woman tutted but smiled, ‘Emilie, it be Emilie. Tu friend.’
Fiona smiled at Emilie’s broken English. She thought Emilie looked over fifty years old, with grey streaks in her ebony-coloured hair and crow-feet wrinkles at the corner of her eyes. She leaned back and let Emilie take the tray.
‘Food good?’ Emilie asked, looking at her.
‘Excellent,’ Fiona replied, rubbing her stomach.
Emilie nodded. ‘You well soon.’ She turned and left the room, passing Stan in the doorway.
Fiona was pleased to see him again. She had been worried that their last conversation had put him off speaking with her. Today, however, he had shaved and looked even more handsome than before. She nodded admiringly at him. ‘My, you spruce up well.’
He frowned and then nodded when Fiona stroked her own chin. ‘And you are recovering quickly,’ he replied, sitting in the chair.
‘So what’s new? Have you heard from Jane?’
‘I’ve had a text from James. They are on their way to Glastonbury.’
Stan explained to her what Jane and Mark were searching for. She still found it hard to believe it was happening. Jane was her boss but also her friend and she knew that if Jane was doing this, it must be important. ‘Are you going to meet them?’
‘No. I’m here to protect you.’
Fiona felt a shiver of fear return. ‘Do you think they’ll try again?’
‘No.’ The bluntness of his reply puzzled her.
‘What’s the point of you being here, then?’
His penetrating stare was making her feel slightly uncomfortable, so she quickly said, ‘I know I’m charming and a good catch…’ she paused to brush a strand of hair away from her face. ‘…when I’m looking my best that is. And who wouldn’t want to stay in my company, all the time, but if you give me a quick kiss…’ she blew a kiss at him, ‘…it will break the spell and you’ll be able to leave.’ She squinted a quick look at him and saw the smile start, then she started to giggle herself. ‘That’s better, such a stern look you have.’
‘Focus is what it’s called,’ Stan replied.
‘Well, not the kind of focus I like,’ Fiona retorted. ‘Anyway back to my question, why can’t you just leave me here. It’s safe isn’t it?’
Stan leant forward so his elbows were resting on his knees and his hands clasped together under his chin. ‘Yes it’s safe, for now, but I won’t risk it.’
‘Why?’
‘Because of what happened last time.’
Fiona felt the chill return. ‘What happened?’
Stan waved her question away, as a way of dismissing it.
‘Stan, don’t give me a puzzle and leave me wondering about the answer. There could be something important for me to know.’ She could see he was hesitating but also thinking about what she had said. ‘Please tell me what happened.’
He cleared his throat and Fiona could see he was finding it difficult to start. ‘It’s to do with that other woman, isn’t it? The one you couldn’t save.’
Stan just gazed at the floor and when he spoke his voice was quiet. ‘I was protecting her from her rich boyfriend, a nasty, brutal man. It was after I had left the army and I was working as a bodyguard.’ He swallowed and looked up. ‘Extracting her from the boyfriend’s lair went easily. The thugs he had guarding her were no match for me.’
Fiona could believe that.
He continued, ‘I took her to a safe place and she stayed with some people I knew.’
Like you did for me, Fiona thought.
Stan stood up and paced the room as he spoke. ‘I’d known her from childhood, she was called Stacy and it was her parents who hired me. After a week of hiding, she persuaded me that she was safe and it was okay to leave her. I knew I couldn’t stay with her forever and I had to do other work, but I also knew what kind of person her boyfriend was and he didn’t like to lose.’
‘So you left her?’ Fiona cut in.
‘Yes, but with restrictions. They were to safe guard her and the people she was with.’
‘What happened?’ Fiona whispered.
‘She called her parents.’
Fiona looked at him puzzled, ‘So?’
Stan stopped pacing and turned to her. ‘She told them where she was.’
Fiona shrugged, thinking, how could that be a problem?
Stan’s voice was hard and cold. ‘Her parents had a visit from the boyfriend and his men.’
Fiona felt her stomach sink. She began to comprehend what had happened next. ‘He… he tortured them?’ she stammered.
Stan shook his head, ‘No, only threatened to. Then, when he got the information, he killed them.’
Fiona’s eyes widened. ‘And what about your friends she was staying with?’
Stan’s hands clenched into fists, ‘He killed them too.’
Fiona felt a nervousness creep through her body as she asked, ‘And Stacy?’
Stan stared at her but it was as if he was looking elsewhere. ‘The boyfriend beat her first, then cut her face to bits, before cutting out her heart.’
Fiona swallowed the lump that had appeared in her throat. ‘How do you know this?’ she croaked.
Stan’s eyes narrowed, his face emotionless. ‘Because I got there an hour after it happened and he had left me a message in her blood.’
‘What was it?’ Fiona whispered, hardly able to speak.
‘Stan’s voice held no emotion, ‘I will kill you.’
‘What did you do?’
Stan moved towards the door.
‘What did you do?’ Fiona called after him.
His hand rested on the door latch, then he turned, his face rigid, his lips tight together. When he spoke the tone of his voice was like ice, ‘I killed him and all his family.’
For a moment Fiona saw the beast hidden in the face; the killer with no remorse, then he turned away and left the room.
She rested back on the pillows and took a deep breath. Stan was a man of extremes all right, but even though she had seen his deadly side, she also knew in her heart that he was good. He both scared and excited her. ‘Remind myself not to push for an answer next time,’ she told herself. But at least now she knew what message the story had for her. “Be careful what you do.” Phew! She wouldn’t forget that story anytime soon. But it had raised a concern in her… what about her own parents?