Sins of the Father (26 page)

“I didn’t bring one. I won’t stay.” She sat on the couch and took her tea. “I know you have a busy life.”

Kael sat and turned to face her, one arm slung across the back of the couch. “You can’t go back tonight. You’ll be too tired.” He paused. “Mum, what is it?”

“Your father,” she whispered, wrapping her hands around her cup more for comfort than anything. She might as well get right down to it. This had dragged on long enough. “He wasn’t a father to you. He was the man who got me pregnant.”

Kael went very still. His face had always been unreadable except when he was angry. Even as a kid, he had never smiled much. He was always serious, always reading or studying something. Always telling her about things she didn’t understand and would never have thought to question. “Go on. What?”

“Remember I said I met him at the Adelphi when I worked there?” He nodded. “He didn’t work there. He was staying there.”

Interest suddenly brightening his face, Kael asked, “Do you know his name?”

“No, I don’t. I don’t really know anything about him. I was a chambermaid, and he was a guest. The Adelphi was the best hotel in Liverpool for years. It probably still is.”

“Please, Mum. Tell me what happened.”

In a voice so quiet Kael had to ask her to speak up, she said, “I was changing the bed in his suite, and he came up behind me. He threw me down on the floor, and he was on top of me so fast there was nothing I could do. He was so quick and so strong.”

The memory of the rape, with all the fear and helplessness of the moment, returned, making her mouth dry and her heart pound. She looked down, wishing she had not told him, but she couldn’t stop now. He had a right to know where he came from. “Before he left the room, he said not to bother telling anyone and not to call the police because they wouldn’t believe me. And why would they? He was some rich bloke, and I was a cleaner from a council estate. Two months later, I found out I was pregnant with you.”

Easing the cup from her hands, Kael put it on the coffee table and pulled her close until her head rested on his chest. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“You don’t tell something like that to a kid. I wouldn’t have told you now, but you wanted the details when you were home last time. I thought it was time I told you.”

“I didn’t want to upset you, but I needed to know. I’ve always wondered who he was.”

“That’s only natural,” she said.

“Can you tell me what he looked like?”

She tried to think back to that awful day in 1977. It was June, and it had been unusually warm for Liverpool. “I never saw him very well. He threw me on the floor, and then he was on top of me. I was too busy trying to get him off me to look at his face. Then afterward he walked away. I wouldn’t know him if he was standing in front of me right now, and that makes it easier. If I remembered his face, it would make it worse. I’d be looking for him in you, and that’s the last thing I ever wanted to do. You’ve got nothing to do with him. He was scum, and you’re the best thing that ever happened to me. You’re nothing like him. Look how good you are. You’re such a good son.”

“I’m surprised you wanted to keep me,” he said quietly.

Those words made her sit up straight and look up into her son’s handsome face. “I never even thought about giving you up,” she said fiercely. “The moment I saw you, I loved you. That’s why I never told you what happened. I didn’t want you to think there was anything wrong with you because of how you came into the world.”

“What do you remember about him?” he persisted. “Anything, Mum. Please try to think back.”

“Oh Kael,” she sighed. “There’s nothing we can do. We’ll never find him, and I don’t want to.”

From the moment he was born, she’d been entranced by those gorgeous blue eyes. She could never resist him when he looked directly at her and asked for something. “Mum, please.”

Briefly she placed her hand on his cheek. “He was really tall. No one in my family’s tall like you. He was thin but very strong. I don’t remember his face.”

“Did he have a foreign accent?”

Surprised at the questions, she replied, “A bit of one, but he sounded posh. Like he’d been to one of them posh schools like you went to. At the time, I thought he was French.” She shrugged. “But what did I know? I left the job that day, and nine months later, I had you. I never told anyone what happened. My mum had died a few years before and my dad—you know what a nasty sod he was—he threw me out, so I went to live with your Aunty Eileen until you was born, and then the council gave me a flat.”

“It must have been difficult for you,” he said quietly.

Difficult? It had been hell. Year after year of struggling to make ends meet, working like a dog, and all the time trying to give her beloved son the best she could manage. And she’d made the worst choices possible in men, one abusive user after the next. “It was, but I’ve never regretted it. I don’t care how I got you. I loved you the moment I saw you. And you were so clever. You could read the newspapers by the time you was three. People didn’t believe me when I told them, so I made you show them all the time. I was so proud. There was nothing you couldn’t do. You were so different from all the other kids where we lived.”

Leaning down, he kissed her forehead. “I love you, Mum.”

“And I love you. To hell with Shawn and all those useless men I put up with over the years. And to hell with whoever your father was.” She tried to smile, but she knew it was strained. “Now, is there anything else you want to know? Not that there’s much else to tell.”

He shook his head and pulled her into a tight hug. She’d never in her life loved anyone the way she loved her Kael.

* * * *

As he walked out of the gates of Redmond Independent College, Angel knew Aubrey Carey-Fox was behind him. He had just beaten the other boy at a game of chess, and he knew Aubrey was unhappy about it. Given a choice, Angel would never have played him, but the mathematics master who ran the chess club had paired them up. Mr. Waterhouse must have noticed Angel’s reluctance because he had patted his shoulder and said quietly,
“Go on, Button. Beat the pants off him.”

Angel had indeed beaten the pants off Carey-Fox, and now Carey-Fox wanted to beat him. Literally. Wanting to avoid an altercation, Angel headed straight for Jack, who was waiting outside the gates for him. “Angel, how’s it going?” Jack called in his very gay voice.

“Hey, American boy. Do you only hang out with other queers like yourself?”

Turning to face him, Angel looked the fat boy up and down. Just the walk down the front steps to the school gates had him panting and red in the face. The boy’s girth was probably ten times that of Angel’s slender waist, and Carey-Fox was at least two inches taller. “What do you want, Aubrey?”

“I want to flatten you, you little queer,” the boy said, grinning, his cheeks pink, sweat trickling down his forehead.

“Try and catch me. I can outrun you any day, lard ass,” Angel said.

The grin on Carey-Fox’s face faltered at the insult. “You can’t run forever. I’ll get you.”

“What did I ever do to you?” Angel asked as Jack came up beside him.

“I don’t like bum boys, and I don’t like Americans.”

There was still a chance of getting out of this without having to resort to violence. “Then stay away from me.” Angel grabbed Jack’s arm and began to walk away. No more than two steps later, he felt a stinging slap across the back of his head. Angel whirled around and looked up into the fat, grinning face of the other boy. “That’s it. No more Mr. Nice Guy,” Angel said.

Drawing one knee into his chest, Angel paused for a split second and then thrust his foot into Carey-Fox’s knee with a sharp downward thrust. When the fat boy leaned forward to grab his injured leg, Angel balled his fist and brought it up hard under the idiot’s fat chins. Aubrey Carey-Fox fell backward onto the pavement, arms and legs splayed like a starfish.

Jack burst out laughing. “Way to go, Angel,” he said. The two boys were a block away when Angel turned to see Carey-Fox still attempting to struggle to his feet.

“That was bloody brilliant,” Jack said, clearly impressed. “Where did you learn to do that? No, don’t tell me. The daddy taught you.”

“That’s right,” Angel grinned. “Are we going to Starbucks?” He felt exhilarated. As much as he would prefer to get on with everybody, he was sick of the gay slurs and jokes about Americans.

“Yeah. So how is the daddy these days?” Jack seemed to think it was hilarious to call Kael
the
daddy.

Jack was the only friend around whom Angel openly referred to Kael as Daddy. Everyone else assumed Kael was some sort of uncle to him. When he was no longer at Redmond, there would be no more pretending.

Smiling, Angel said, “Fine. He’s over the shit I pulled at Barcode that night. You saved my ass. That guy was going to fuck me.”

“You should have done what you just did to Billy Bunter.”

“I was in no state to do anything that night. God knows what was in that pill, but I could hardly stand up. I was so sick. I threw up all night and pissed myself.”

“Nice,” Jack said as they turned onto Palmer Street. “What time do you have to be home?”

“Born This Way” began to play in the pocket of Angel’s school blazer. “Seven o’clock.” He pulled out his iPhone and pressed it to his ear. “Hello.”

“Angel, it’s Stephen Conran.”

“Hi, Mr. Conran.” This was weird. Mr. Conran had never called him before. Suddenly he was afraid. “Is Daddy okay?”

“Yes, of course. Everything is fine. I have a job for you.”

Excitement soared through him. “Really? Will I get paid?” The idea of earning his own money and contributing to the family income had been uppermost in his mind for a while. He’d even asked Daddy if he could apply at a restaurant that was looking for a busboy. Daddy had told him not to be ridiculous.

“Yes, you’ll get paid. Are you paying strict attention?”

“Yes, sir.”

“This is a security detail. A black Rolls-Royce will pull up in front of you in a minute. Get in and escort the occupant to the airport.”

“Mr. Conran, I don’t have a—” He glanced at Jack, who regarded him with curiosity. Angel turned his back before whispering, “A weapon.”

“You’ll be provided with one.”

“Okay, I’ll call Daddy and let him know.”

“No need. He’ll be informed. Pay strict attention to your work. The car is there now.” Conran hung up.

A gleaming black Rolls-Royce with tinted windows stopped at the curb. The door opened, revealing a dark interior. “Something has come up. I’ve got to go,” Angel said to Jack.

Confusion making him frown, Jack said, “Go where?”

“It’s work.” Angel climbed into the car’s warm interior and sat on the soft leather seat opposite a tall, older man. “Mr. Romodanovsky?”

“That is correct, Angel Gabriel Button. You will escort me home to Russia.”

“Mr. Conran said I was to escort you to the airport, sir.”

“Naturally. And then on to Russia. You’ll be home again in London in a day or two.”

“Sir, I don’t have a weapon.”

The Russian waved a finger at the man sitting beside Angel. He handed him a Glock 26. Angel checked that it was loaded and that the safety catch was on before putting it in his blazer pocket.

“So, young Mr. Button. Tell me about Mr. Saunders. Tell me everything you know about him.”

“Sorry, sir, but I can’t do that.”

The rest of the way to the airport, the Russian questioned him continually about Daddy, but Angel told him nothing.

Sven had owned a small plane with pontoons, but nothing like the luxury private jet they boarded with couches that converted into beds. A full kitchen and a bar made it like a small apartment. Worried that Daddy had not been informed yet, Angel pulled out his phone while they sat on the tarmac waiting for a runway. But Daddy wasn’t expecting him until seven anyway. A large man sitting across from him took the phone from his hands. “Give it the fuck back!” Angel stood up and attempted to grab his phone. He looked at the Russian, who smiled and spoke to the man in their own language. He handed the phone back with a shrug.

“Do you wish to call Kael Saunders?”

“Yes, sir.” The plane began to move along the runway.

“Go ahead.”

Angel punched in the number. Daddy had told him not to program numbers into his phone and had spent hours teaching him mnemonic techniques to remember his numbers. No answer. He punched in a text.
You know where I am, Daddy. See you soon.

* * * *

At a quarter past seven, Kael began to feel irritated. At half past seven, he went into the spare bedroom where Sharon was turning down her bed for later. “Mum, Angel’s late.”

“I suppose you’re annoyed with him,” she said.

“Actually I’m getting worried.”

“Has he sent you a text?”

“Shit!” he said under his breath and hurried back to the hall cupboard. He kept his secure line phone on his belt at all times, but his mobile he had left in the pocket of his leather jacket. Flipping open the cheap disposable phone, he saw the envelope icon at once. “You know where I am?”
You’re supposed to be here
. He punched in Angel’s number and listened while it rang and rang. Then he texted.
Where are you?

For long moments, he stood absolutely still while his thoughts came together. If he believed in intuition, he would say he was tuning into it, but he was far too practical to believe in such things.

“Kael?” His mum was standing in the hall looking at him.

“I’ve got to go out. If Angel comes home, tell him to phone me at once.”

“All right, luv. I’ll see what’s in the fridge and make some dinner. We don’t have to go out. It’s getting late.” Pulling on his jacket, Kael headed for the lift.

Jack McCarron’s family lived on a well-heeled street in Chelsea not far from Freddie and Adam. The man who answered was tall and thin, balding and older than Kael expected. “I’m Kael Saunders. Is Jack home?”

“Ahh, Angel’s…” His words trailed off.

“Angel is my partner. He lives with me. Is Jack home?”

“I’m Dr. McCarron.” The man opened the door wider. “You’d better come in. Go right through.” He pointed down a long hall to the back of the house.