Time Changes

Part Twenty

Peter stared at him, “YOU organised that?”

Oliver shrugged, “I might have been a little frugal with the truth.”

                “Does she know you did that?”

Pulling himself to his feet, he walked towards the mantelpiece, then stopped resting an elbow on it, “why do you think she went away? She thinks I told you to leave, on her birthday, and she thinks I orchestrated your meeting in Stockholm.”

Lifting his cup Peter let the silence of drinking coffee allow him some time with his own thoughts. She’d be furious, he could imagine that, and quite rightly. What gave Oliver the right to act like God?

                “You might think I was wrong, both times, but I knew that I caused a rift years ago, and as I got older, as she got older I realised that maybe you were due another chance...I didn’t think either of you have forgotten the other. "

Peter knew that it was all way beyond him now, he’d been an idiot on numerous occasions, and no amount of misplaced matchmaking from this man would make things right. He sighed, "Ok Oliver, you can have your pound of flesh! I love your daughter, I can’t get her out of my head, but she hates me, and I can’t blame her. I had so many chances to sort things out with her, and I’ve blown it SO many times! I’m now up to my eyes with a conniving woman in Australia, she’s met someone else. I just have to move on. She has!"

Oliver chuckled, "you youngsters and your stubbornness. Tell her how you feel!"

Peter smiled ironically, "you think I haven’t done that?"

The light faded in Oliver’s eyes at that, and ultimately the older man started to get tired. And so the conversation started to wither. So he left the family, promising to call in again before he left London.

Back at the hotel, he sat staring into space, how typical that the moment he blows it with Alexis, Oliver lifts the veto on her! The very reason he’d avoided her, was the verbal ban that Oliver had put over her six years ago, and the threats he’d overheard, even in Stockholm he’d feared facing the man knowing how he felt about Alexis. Now he was doomed to live and die by the ham fisted way he’d tried to uphold those words in respect to the older man.

Later that evening he called his PA Hilda, a short stout German speaking Swiss woman in her fifties. She was his godsend, running his office, fielded his calls, organised his diary. She was stoical in her job and an asset he respected.

“Hi Hilda, is there any urgent news?”

He heard her tut and smiled to himself, “Herr Marlow, you have not checked your emails for four days! I have tried my best to fend off the director from Charterol. You promised him something three weeks ago?”

He sighed, “Sorry Hilda, I have had jetlag and this conference is more than hectic! I’ll get onto my emails right away. Anything else?”

"Not really, Marco called about some conference in Nice. You apparently are aware of it, and he’s emailing you the details. Your mother phoned and asked if you can pass her your new mobile phone number, the one you’re using in Australia, as she keeps getting a woman replying? That is probably the most urgent! Oh and there was a call but no message from a woman looking for you last Thursday.

"A woman?"

"Yes,” Hilda replied, “...sorry she wouldn’t leave a message."

He bit his lip. "Was she English?"

"Yes, a very well spoken voice!"

Peter knew he was jumping to conclusions thinking it was Alexis, hell it could literally be anyone, but a part of him hoped upon hope. "Thank you Hilda, I’ll check my inbox now and call you tomorrow.”