A/N - Again, this chapter contains strong stuff - violence, bad language, peril, adult issues and lots and lots of melodrama! Readers of a nervous disposition, look away now! Also the format on WP's desktop version keeps getting screwed up, although mobile looks okay. There's meant to be gaps at the end.
* * *
What I feel, I can't say
But my love is there for you anytime of day
But if it's not love that you need
Then I'll try my best to make everything succeed
Tell me, what is my life without your love
Tell me, who am I without you, by my side
I can't breathe.
I'm in front of Bobbie in her playpen, covering her with my body to protect her. George is six feet from me, standing in the centre of the green thick pile rectangular rug in front of the desk. He's half turned towards me, half towards them. Why is he here? He shouldn't have come back. I wish he hadn't, but at the same time I am so thankful that he has.
Frank Heath blocks the exit, as tall and solid as the heavy oak door he holds open, palm flat on it. His eyes dart around the room. He seems anxious, unsure. George arriving was clearly not part of the plan. He keeps glancing towards his brother for instruction, but Dennis ignores him.
He is beside the desk, gun arm extended and hand bobbing, like it's too heavy for him to hold straight. He has one eye closed as he aims, like a child with a pop gun. He moves it from George to me and back, undecided about who to point it at.
'I think...' Dennis sweeps the gun back towards me. 'Our little party has been gatecrashed, Darlin'. We're gonna have to take it elsewhere.'
George looks at me. I try to talk to him with my eyes; Don't move, George. Don't do anything stupid. Don't do anything to make them...
He winks.
'Move it, Hannah,' Dennis says flatly, jerking the barrel of the gun towards the door. 'And you, Boss, you just stay where you are.'
Did he? Did George wink at me? Did I imagine it?
'Are you hurt?' George asks me, his voice low.
I shake my head.
'Bobbie?'
I shake my head again.
'Didn't you hear me?' Dennis says. 'I said it's time to go.'
I wet my lips but my mouth is dry. 'No,' I say, hoarse.
'What's that, Darlin'?' he taunts.
'No,' I repeat, louder.
'That's your favourite word, eh?' Dennis chuckles. 'We can play this game later, Baby. Frank, get ahold of her.'
Frank steps into the room, mouth open, teeth bared like a dog. He is a dog. A guard dog, fierce and strong and dangerous, but under his master's command, following orders, grateful when he's given direction and lost if he has to think for himself. He was the same with Ronnie Kray. He did everything he told him to, never disobeying, never stepping out of line... except for once. When I saw them kill Joey.
My memory is hazy. The moments following it are a blur, but they discussed killing me too. Ronnie wanted to, and it was Frank Heath who argued with him. I can't remember exactly what was said. I just remember him, standing with his shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbow, gun still in hand... Bobby wouldn't like it... She's Rick's wife... Reg would be upset. She's his star turn, isn't she...?
Why didn't he do it? Why didn't he murdered me too?
Frank strides purposefully, meaning to pass George, headed for me, but when George puts his hand up to him and says, 'Ah-ah, no you don't,' he stops, confused.
'Hold it right there, Frank,' George says, cockily. 'You ain't going nowhere.' Then the corners of his mouth turn up and a grin spreads over his face. He fights it but he can't stop childish sniggers and giggles spilling out. The giggles quickly turn into large guffawing laughs.
I don't know who is more surprised. For a few seconds, we all stare at him.
Dennis moves the gun back to point at him, but still George laughs, holding his sides, doubling over. Frank looks at Dennis for instruction. He opens his mouth, but no words come.
George waves his hand at them, patting the air. 'No,' he says, trying to get his breath back. 'No, you're not. You're not taking her anywhere.' More chuckles. He turns his head to me, glee lighting his eyes. 'I couldn't keep my face straight. I tried but it's like something out of a bad gangster movie, isn't it? How do they say all this rubbish? How do they do it without laughing?!'
It's not, I think. It's bloody real, George. Real gangsters and real guns with real bullets.
'You'd better shut the hell up--' Dennis starts.
'No,' George says, mirth dying as quickly as it arrived. 'You'd better shut the hell up, Den, and get the hell out.'
'That we can agree on, Boss. Frank--'
George sidesteps to block Frank's path. 'I think you misunderstood me. You two--' He waggles his finger between Frank and Dennis, 'You'd better be on your way if you want a fighting chance. Police are coming. They'll be here any minute, but if you go now, you might just make it.'
Frank's eyes widen and he takes a small step backwards. Dennis scoffs and shakes his head. 'You're fuckin' lying.'
'Stick around and find out then,' George says, flippantly.
'You've not called the police. When? When you were checking the bloody post?'
'In Henley. Red phone boxes on the green.' He twists his head around to the grandfather's clock in the corner of the room. 'Time's ticking, Den.'
'Jack...' Frank says. 'Let's just go, man.'
'Take no notice,' Dennis says. 'He's bluffing. He hasn't called anyone. The police wouldn't let him come back here if he had.'
'You're fired, Dennis,' George says, smirking. 'Or is it Jack, then? And you must be the infamous Frank Heath. Your reputation proceeds you, mate.'
Frank remains silent, viewing George suspiciously. George stands in front of him. George is five foot, ten but he only comes up to Frank's shoulder. He must be six foot six, but if anything it's Frank who seems to be intimidated.
'You're not all that scary,' George says.
'George, they have a gun,' I say, because he doesn't seem to have noticed.
He turns to me with what can only be described as mischief in his eyes. 'I know, love. Funny, isn't it?'
Has he lost his mind? None of this makes sense.
'Funny that they think waving a blunt block of metal at us gives them all the power. It doesn't.' He turns back to Dennis. 'No fucking gun is going to make a difference. You could have a bloody flamethrower and I still wouldn't let you walk out of here with her.'
'Is that so?' Dennis replies.
'What are you doin' in here anyway? Why come back here? You had Hannah. I saw her get in the car with you. You didn't have to bring her back here... But you need something, eh? You're looking for something.'
Dennis doesn't flinch but Frank shifts his weight, betraying him.
'It's not here,' George says, smug. 'So you can go.'
'Where is it then?' Dennis challenges.
'With a solicitor. If I'm not there on Monday to collect it, he'll take everything to the police.'
Dennis sucks his cheeks in. 'Bad move, Boss,' he says, thoughtfully. 'That mighta been the only thing to keep us from finishing you off. Frank, deal with it.'
Frank doesn't move.
'Frank, deal with it!' he repeats through gritted teeth.
'What do you want me to do?' he says.
'Christ, Frankie, do I have to think for you now too? Get the girl. If the bastard stands in your way, knock him out. Kill him. Do whatever you like.'
He turns his head to him. 'I'm not killing a Beatle. I told you that before.'
'What? You're a music fan now, are you? Just do as I bleedin' tell you.'
Frank chews his lip and looks at George, then Dennis, then George again.
'Knock him on the head then,' Dennis says, exasperated. 'Just be quick about it.'
Frank steps forward. George moves into his path again. 'Do you always do what he tells you?' he asks, nodding his head towards Dennis.
Frank is taken aback. 'Yeah,' he says, simply.
'Why?'
'I, uh... Because...' Frank looks at Dennis. 'I don't know.'
'You don't have to do what he tells you,' George says. 'Look at the size of you compared to that fat slob. You're the one who should be calling the shots, not him. C'mon, Frank. Be smart. Police are on their way and you're wasting time. Just go, man. Leave Hannah, leave everything and run.'
'We should go, Jack...'
Dennis throws his hands up. 'Frank, he's manipulating you, you dumb shit!'
'And he's not?' George says.
'Do you think this is a game?' Dennis asks, stepping closer to George and Frank, gun pointed at both of them. 'Do you doubt I'm serious? That I won't do it? I'll put a bullet right between your eyes, Boss.'
'Don't, man...' Frank says, low.
'Bobby Teale.' Dennis swings the revolver towards me. George neatly steps into it's path. 'Where's your precious Bobby Teale, Darlin'?' Dennis says to me, leaning round George. 'Is he coming to save you? Is he going to protect you from all these big bad men?'
'You... You said he told you to look after me,' I reply, warily, already anticipating what he's going to tell me.
'Yeah, yeah,' Dennis nods. 'He said something along those lines. He said something like, "Please don't hurt Hannah." I think he was on his knees at the time. Begging. Begging for his fucking life.'
My throat tightens, but I'm determined not to cry. I swallow. It hurts. Frank moves his eyes to Dennis. There's something there. Surprise, maybe? Confusion?
'I killed Bobby Teale,' Dennis says, taking pleasure in the words.
I don't want to react, but I can't look at the gratification on his face. I move my eyes slightly to the left of him, staring at the trees outside the tall window, trying not to listen to his taunts.
'That fucking nark deserved it. I shot him in the back of the head. So if I killed him, what makes you think I won't kill you?'
'Jack, I wanna go, man.'
'We are going.'
'Jackie, this is too much.'
Dennis rounds on him. 'You always want to quit, don't you? We can't, Frank. We've come this far. We're not leaving without her or without the papers. Have you even checked the bleedin' desk?'
''Course I have. It was... locked.'
George laughs.
'Christ, Frank! So break it open, you big goon!'
'He said it wasn't even here.'
'You are trying my patience, brother. Go and look! See for yourself, don't take his bloody word for it.'
Frank goes behind the desk. He rattles the top drawer, which as he stated, is locked. He looks around for something to open it with, muttering, 'Too fuckin' dark to see...'
'Have you got the key?' Dennis says to George.
'Nope,' George grins.
'Stop pointing that at me,' Frank says, stopping to straighten his back. Dennis has the gun on him. He followed him with it as he went behind the desk and now he stands, adjacent to George, pointing the revolver at his own brother. 'Give it to me.'
'Just get on with it.'
Frank frowns. 'Give me my gun back.'
'No.'
'No?!'
'This is my little insurer. It insures everyone, including you, baby brother, do exactly as I say.'
'Are you bloody insane?' Frank asks, coming round the side of the desk. 'Give me the gun. You're a damn liability, Jack.'
Dennis laughs, cruelly. 'Liability! Well done, Frankie! Five syllables in that one! That word of the day calendar is really paying off, eh?'
Dennis steps forward and Frank comes to meet him. 'Give me the fuckin' gun! Now!'
George takes a sideways look at me and gives me a sly smile. I stare back at him, astounded, wondering if he has, in all seriousness taken leave of his senses. He looks at Bobbie, giving a very slight jerk of his head towards her. 'Get her,' he hisses.
'What are you...'
'Never mind. Be quick...' He indicates to Frank and Dennis with his eyes. They're lost in their bickering, voices rising.
Carefully, trying to move unnoticed, I twist around to Bobbie behind me. She looks up at me, blinking tired eyes. George steps in front of me as I bend over the side of the playpen. I ensure I scoop up Bun-Bun at the same time, but Bobbie still drops him as I lift her. She half-whines, half-murmurs a protest. 'Shh, love,' I soothe as I bring her into my chest.
George half turns towards us, using his body to shelter us as we start, cautiously, for the door. 'Move slow,' George warns, whispering in my ear. 'Then when we reach the hall, run for the front door. Don't look back, don't stop.'
I inch my way across the floor, desperate to run but terrified of attracting the attention of the two arguing men. I keep my eyes trained on the door as they shout at each other. On the edge of my vision, Frank tries to grab the gun and Dennis snatches it away.
I drop my eyes to the floor and grip Bobbie tightly, one arm around her, my other hand covering her head. We take a couple of steps, George behind me. It's about three yards to the door, four or five normal strides. Taking tiny, careful baby steps, it's more like twenty.
'Hey, Baby, where do you think you're going?' Dennis is suddenly in front of me, gun barrel raised.
I gasp and stumble backwards, nearly falling, very aware that I am putting Bobbie directly in the sights of the gun. George puts his hands on my back to steady me.
'Come here, you stupid bitch,' Dennis says and gun in one hand, he lunges for me with the other, wrapping his thick fingers around my wrist. He pulls me towards him and I nearly lose my hold on Bobbie.
George throws himself at Dennis, knocking him to the floor and landing on top of him. They sprawl on the rug, attempting unsuccessful punches as they writhe and wrestle against each other. I glance at Frank, still beside the desk, unsure whether to wade in as well. He looks up at me and holds his hand up in a warning not to move as he puts himself between me and the door.
Dennis uses his bulk to get George onto his back, covering him with his body, but George is lithe and quick and Dennis can't pin him down. They're a mess of limbs. I can't tell what belongs to who, arms and legs and shoulders and solid, black, cold metal.
'George, look out, he's still got the--'
BOOOOM!!!
The gun explodes. I scream and turn my back, shielding Bobbie. Frank cowers, covering his head with his arms like a bomb's gone off.
Then everything goes... still.
It must only last seconds, but it feels an eternity. It's broken by Bobbie. Gripped tightly in my arms, she starts to bawl.
'George?!' I cry.
There's no reply.
'George, no, NO! Please, Georgieeeee...'
I hold Bobbie tighter, but I'm unable to rock her to comfort her. Tears flow down my cheeks too. I can't turn around. They haven't moved. I can't let her see her father if he's...
'I'm alright,' George says, not sounding too sure but speaking loudly. 'I'm okay.'
I turn my head, but not my body, still protecting the baby. 'Are you shot? Are you hurt?' I'm shaking.
They move. Dennis gets to his knees, levelling the gun at George again. 'Stay where you are,' he tells him but George is already halfway to his feet.
'No, I... The bullet went in the wall, look,' George answers, his voice wavering with shock. Still bent over, he nods his head towards the wall beside the door. A chunk of plaster the size of a cricket ball has crumbled away.
'Give me that,' Frank says to Dennis, stepping forward, holding his hand out for the gun.
'Fuck off,' Dennis says, staggering to his feet. He starts coughing, hacking, nearly retching, brought on by the exertion of the fight. He bends double and put his hands on his knees, resting the gun in his hand there, trying to stop the violent coughing racking his body.
'Give it to me,' Frank demands. 'You don't know how to handle it, Jack.'
'I can handle it fine,' Dennis splutters.
'You're going to shoot yourself in your bleedin' foot!' He tries to take the gun. Dennis pushes him away, spinning around.
As Frank shouts and Dennis chokes, George moves to me and Bobbie. He puts his arms around us both, but I can't reciprocate. I'm squeezing Bobbie so hard between our bodies, I think it's hurting her.
'Georgie...' I cry. 'I thought you'd...'
'I'm okay,' he repeats, calm, but his face is deathly white. 'Come on, walk with me. The door...'
We're only a couple of feet from the hall. We move again, determined, George supporting me. We're within a step of it.
'Stay where you are, you bastard,' Dennis says, behind us. 'Or the next bullet won't go into the wall.'
We halt but George doesn't let go of me. I glance at his face. He has his head bowed, chewing his lip, trying to think.
I step back from him, pulling Bobbie and myself out of his arms. 'Stop,' I cry, turning to Dennis, covering Bobbie's head with my hand. 'Stop, enough. I'll go with you, just stop everything, please!'
'Hannah, no!'
I glance at George, apologetically. 'I'll go with you now,' I tell Dennis. 'But only if you don't hurt Bobbie or George, and only if they can stay here.'
'You're in no position to make demands, Princess,' Dennis says, doubtfully. He thinks I'm lying, that I'm trying to trick him. There's no trick. I mean it.
I blink the water from my eyes. 'What I said before, what I promised you before George came in, that still stands. I'll do it, but only if you let me leave Bobbie here with George.'
'What did you say?' George asks. 'Hannah, what have you promised?' He takes a step towards me.
Dennis shoves his brother. 'Get her in the hall.'
'No,' George says. 'You're not taking her anywhere. Where are they taking you?'
Frank puts his hands on my shoulders, standing behind me and angles me towards the door. George tries to reach me but Frank turns me around, placing himself in between George and me.
'Stop!' George shouts, trying to get through to me. 'You're NOT taking her!' Frank holds him back effortlessly with one arm as he maneuvers me into the dark hall.
'Wait,' I say, pushing back. 'Wait, let me give the baby to George!'
'I think we'll take the baby too,' Dennis says, following us. 'Extra insurance that you'll behave.'
Frank pauses but he doesn't release me. Then he shoves tries me towards the front door, but I'm fighting him now, trying to hold onto Bobbie. I can feel her slipping from my grasp. 'No!' I shout. 'No, you have to let me leave her here, or I won't... I won't...'
Frank sighs as if he's weary. He wraps his arms around my waist and lifts me off my feet, Bobbie and all. I squeal, kicking out at him, but I can't move much, I'm terrified of dropping Bobbie.
There's a crash, glass breaking behind us and Frank spins round with me.
George and Dennis grapple with each other. George has him against the wall, the glass from the picture frame they just knocked off crunching under their feet. Dennis holds the gun aloft as George tries to reach for it. They stumble into the small telephone table, knocking it over, the phone brrrriiiiiinnnnnngggggs brightly as it hits the floor.
George gets his hand on the gun, trying to prise it from Dennis's grip as Dennis grunts and groans. Frank puts me back on my feet and goes to his aid. Bobbie screams. I scream for George. Frank gets in between them and pushes them apart, holding his arms out at both of them. Dennis stumbles backwards, waving his gun around. George stands his ground, breathing hard, staring warily at them both. He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand.
'Fuckin' moron,' Dennis shouts at Frank. 'Get out of the way!'
'NO!' I scream, trying to be heard above Bobbie. 'NO! Don't shoot him!!'
'You can't kill him,' Frank yells back. 'He's a goddamn Beatle, Jack. You can't kill a Beatle! They'll fuckin' hang you!'
'I can do whatever the fuck I like!'
'You'll have to kill me if you want to take her,' George growls. 'Because there's no way she's leaving with you otherwise!'
'Can be arranged, Boss.'
Dennis raises the gun but Frank shoves him backwards, into the wall. 'I said no!' he barks at him. 'We're in enough shit already. We're leaving. We're taking the girl and we're going.'
George steps up to Frank. 'I'll go,' he tells him. 'You can take me with you and leave Hannah and the baby here.'
'Why would we want to do that?' Dennis scoffs, stilling held back by Frank's arm across his chest.
'I'm a Beatle,' George says, opening his arms to him. 'Take me. Like you said, I'm... valuable. They'll bargain with you for me. They'll do whatever you want. Give you what you want. I can give you anything you want. Money. Cars. What? Name it, I'll give it you.'
'You don't have anything we want,' Dennis says, slickly. 'Except her.'
He shakes his head, stepping forward. 'I'm worth much more to you than she is.'
'Ricky,' I say, desperately, moving to George's side. I bounce Bobbie vigorously, trying to calm her. 'He says Ricky's in England and looking for him for... revenge or something, I don't know. They want me to speak to him. That's all they want, then I can come home.'
George stares. 'Ricky's not--'
'He is. That's all you want, isn't it?' Neither Dennis nor Frank reply. 'Isn't it, Dennis?' I repeat, louder. 'I'll speak to Ricky and then you'll let me go.'
Frank takes his arm from Dennis's chest. Dennis steps forward, gun still in hand, but lowered now. He regards George, then coughs and nods. 'Yeah.'
George frowns, conflicting emotions running through him. I can read them all perfectly in his eyes. Confusion, frustration, denial, anger...
'Why would-- He didn't fuckin' listen to you when you were his wife, why would he--'
And finally, realisation. He stops speaking.
Ricky's not looking for anyone. He's not in England. They don't want to kidnap me to take me to him. I don't know what papers they're looking for, but I can guess it's something to do with what George's private detective has discovered. Telling me they need me to speak to Ricky for them is a ruse in the hope I'll go along with things. Dennis wants to take me somewhere for a different reason entirely. I think that's the only thing which has kept me alive this long. After that, when he's finished with me, I expect they'll kill me. I'm the only witness to Joey's murder. I'm the only one who can convict Frank Heath.
'No,' George says, all of those emotions converging together into fear and rage. 'No! Absolutely not, Hannah.'
'I have to,' I say, quietly, unable to meet his eyes.
'You don't have to do anything,' George says. 'Hannah, for fucks sake, for once in your life, do as I tell you to!' He turns back to Frank. 'She's a mother,' he tells him. 'Our daughter is eighteen months old. Don't take her from her.'
Frank twists his mouth. 'I'm sorry,' he says. 'I gotta.'
'You don't,' George says, gently, persuasively, engaging his best Beatle George charm. 'You don't at all. Come on, Frank. You lost your mother when you were a kid, didn't you? I read it, in the... the thing. You were only four. Hannah's mother died when she was four too. Don't do it to Bobbie too, don't take her mum from her. She needs her.'
Frank shakes his head and walks away, but George follows on his heel, chattering about mothers and orphans and offering himself in my place.
'Look, Ricky West won't listen to you,' Frank says, putting his hand up to George. 'I'm sorry. It has to be her.'
The three of us - Dennis included - stare at Frank in disbelief. Frank Heath is tall and strong, but he's uneducated. He's used to being the muscle, the follower, the foot soldier. Easily lead and easily manipulated, he's believes everything Dennis has told him.
Dennis comes to my side. I step back from him, but the front door is behind me. There's nowhere to run to.
George tries again, a more frantic edge to his voice. 'Frank, please. I'll go. I'll come with you instead. I'll make sure you get away. You can leave the country. I'll give you the money for the plane ticket. Just leave Hannah here. Bobbie needs her. Please, mate, have a--'
'If you don't stop, I am gonna knock you on the head,' Frank says to him, flustered.
'George,' I say, evenly. 'Don't. It's okay.'
'It is NOT bloody okay!' George shouts, charm slipping, replaced with desperation. 'Stop saying you're going with them because you're not!'
'Love, don't do this. Don't fight--'
George's eyes flare. 'Do you expect I'll step to one side and let him take you away? Take you somewhere so he can rape and murder you?!'
'Can't rape the willing,' Dennis says.
I blink a few times. 'It'll keep you safe,' I say, trying to keep the tremble out of my voice. 'And Bobbie. I'll go with them and you stay here with Bobbie.' I move towards him, holding Bobbie out, her crying now reduced to distressed grizzling. 'Take her from me.'
'Han, you can't...' George says, but steps forward for Bobbie anyway.
'Stay where you are,' Dennis says, waving for me to get back from George with the barrel of the gun. 'We're taking the kid as well.'
I pull Bobbie back into my chest, away from the path of the gun. She whines. 'No,' I say, very evenly, swallowing my fear. 'No, you'll let me leave Bobbie here with George or I won't go with you.' Dennis smiles and shakes his head. 'Frank,' I say, turning to him. 'Let me leave Bobbie here. I'll go with you but let me leave the baby.'
Frank raises his eyes to Dennis. His resolve is waning. I could see it when George was badgering him. He's giving in.
'We were all involved in this,' I tell him. 'Me, you, Joey, Ricky... But George and Bobbie weren't. Please, Frank. I'll come with you, but you'll let me leave Bobbie with George, where she's safe. She's just a little girl.'
Frank considers me. 'Give him the child,' he says, gruffly, turning away.
'We're taking the baby,' Dennis says, glaring at him.
'No,' Frank says to him, firmly. 'We're not.' He steps past us both and opens the front door.
'Frank--'
'Goddammit, Jack! The baby stays here!' Frank grabs the front of Dennis's shirt, shoving him against the door jamb, shocking him into silence. He turns his head to me, still holding Dennis there. 'Give her to him.'
Frank releases Dennis and he straightens his shirt, ruffled by Frank's outburst both in appearance and in himself.
I kiss the top of Bobbie head and step over to George.
'Slowly,' Dennis warns me, glaring at Frank. 'No sudden movements, Hannah.' He raises his gun towards Frank. 'Do anything like that again and you'll taste this.'
Frank swears at him and steps outside.
Cautiously, I pass Bobbie to George. He puts his arms around her securely, moving into me. 'Police are coming,' he breathes in my ear. 'Stall them.'
George rests Bobbie on his shoulder, holding her with one arm. I step back from him. We have stalled a long time already. I can't hear anyone coming. I can't risk George or Bobbie being hurt. I give him a very small shake of my head.
George's eyes are blazing with a fear he's desperately trying not to show. As I step back from him, he reaches and grabs my wrist with his free hand. 'You're not going with him. I won't let you,' he says.
'It's okay,' I say, quietly. 'Really, George.' I smile at him, but he doesn't return it.
'Let go of her,' Dennis snarls.
George shakes his head, not taking his eyes from mine. 'No.'
'Let go of her,' Dennis repeats, slowly. 'Or I'll shoot her dead in front of you.'
Suppressing a growl I hear bubbling in his throat, so soft, George reluctantly releases me. I step backwards, in line with Dennis.
'Take care of Bobbie,' I tell him. 'Bobbie is what is important. Bobbie is all that matters. This is what I want. I need to know she's safe with you.'
'Hannah...' he says. His voice cracks.
'Remember, George, I chose to do this,' I tell him, saying the words very deliberately. 'I chose to go with them. It was my decision, not yours. There was nothing you could do to change it. It is not your fault. Remember that, whatever happens.'
He shakes his head. 'I love you.' It's a plea. Desperate.
I smile. 'I love you too.'
'Very fucking touching,' Dennis says and nudges me in the direction of the door with the barrel of the gun. 'Get moving.'
I turn away from George and step towards the door. I'm not going to look back, I'm adamant I won't, but I can't resist taking one last look over my shoulder as I reach the threshold. George holds Bobbie tightly in both arms now. I can see the thoughts racing through his mind as he desperately tries to think of a way to stop this. He can't. There isn't a way.
I give him one last smile and step into the darkness outside.
*
Sirens. Wailing and screaming, they echo around the park, bouncing off the stone walls of the house, reverberating through the black and grey shadows of the surrounding trees and bushes. The noise swells around us like ocean waves, filling up the night, wrapping us in it and rendering it almost impossible to tell which direction it's coming from. The only sound for miles around. Police cars. Help, coming. Coming now. I could laugh, I'm so relieved.
But it's short lived. Dennis grabs my arm at the elbow, gripping tight as he shoves me into a walk, gun barrel pressed into my back. We set off across the front of the house, the gravel churning up a racket below our feet. Heath trails a pace or two behind, mumbling something that makes Dennis twist his head round and snap, 'Shut the fuck up, will you? I know what I'm doing.'
Frank falls in line with us, walking at my other side. He goes silent, head down, mouth small and shoulders hunched, unhappy but obedient again now. We go around the north side of the house and towards the car garages. There's usually a light here, attached to the side of the house, but everything is in blackness. I can still see the shapes of the carvings on the wall there. George has researched the house and it's history extensively since we moved here. He's got every book and old map he could find. These carvings, gargoyles of a sort, are the four Friars Of The Winds; North - blustering, East - piercing, West - Watery and South - smiling and sunny.
Frank looks up too, following my eyeline. 'This place gives me the fuckin' creeps.'
South, smiling. West, water. South West.
'Not the car,' Dennis says, stopping abruptly and yanking me back with him. 'They'll know it. Besides, they could be checking vehicles.'
'What, then?' Frank asks.
Dennis pauses. 'We'll go on foot.'
'On foot?'
'Through the woods.' He points out, over the grounds to the right of us. The Alpine gardens which were so badly overgrown and the tall fir trees beyond. George has been working and clearing this section recently. Beyond the trees is a quieter road which snakes around the boundry of Friar Park. 'We'll slip past them in the dark, silent as the grave.'
'We'll get lost in the dark.'
'We won't. Walk in a straight line. We're bound to hit a road sooner or later.'
Frank chews his lip, but when Dennis starts walking again, pulling me with him, he follows without protest.
'Get off the path, dumbo,' Dennis snaps at Frank. 'Do you want to let them all know where we are?' He pushes me onto the grass verge which runs alongside the driveway. It's a step up that I didn't see in the dark. I trip and stumble, but Dennis's hold stops me from falling. It's sodden underfoot, muddy from recent rainfall and George's digging and clearing. My shoes have a two inch heel and they sink into the ground with every step. I feel like I'm walking through quicksand.
The moon goes behind a thick cloud and the little light we had fades to practically nothing. We walk on across the garden and into a field, moving as quickly as possible but hampered by the uneven ground. Dennis has his hand wrapped around my arm still, his fingers digging in so hard I think it leave a bruise, but the gun isn't pressed in my back anymore. He has to hold his gun arm out for balance as we stumble through the dark. The police sirens continue to wail, but they're more distant now, left behind us somewhere.
'Fuck's sake, what the--' Frank mis-steps and nearly falls into an unseen hole, a foot deep. 'The fucking ground is a bog,' he cries, pulling his foot out. It squelches loudly and Frank swears.
We're in the paddock, I realise. We're not headed towards the gardens for the road beyond Friar Park. We're going east, not north. This is the wrong way.
'I can't do this, Jack.'
'You can and you will.'
'My fucking shoe has come off!'
'Stop being such a pansy.'
Frank stops. Dennis walks on for a couple of steps before he notices. 'Frank!' he growls through gritted teeth.
'Stop talking to me like that.'
'What?'
'Like I'm something you've just trodden in. Stop calling me names, stop calling me stupid.'
'Are you fucking serious?!'
'I'm not stupid, Jack. I'm doing my best.'
'Now, Frank? Honestly? You're going to have a tantrum now?! Want to know why I call you stupid? Because you are bleedin' stupid! You're so bloody thick, it's painful! All you had to do was find the papers and get rid of the nanny. You've managed neither, have you?'
'Stop it. Stop saying things--'
'Remember, brother, you're the entire reason we're in this shit. You killed a New York mobster's boyfriend, and now he's gonna kill you. How fucking stupid is that?!'
'Is he?'
'What?'
'She said he wasn't here. She said he's in America. And Harrison said the same .'
'You gonna believe this dumb bitch or me?!'
Frank doesn't reply. I can't see his face well in the dark. His head, his whole shape is just black.
'Get walking. Do you want them to find us?'
Dennis shoves me and we start walking again, Frank following, going across the boggy field, still in the wrong direction. We're headed towards the fields, not the road. There's only acres of dark, muddy fields this way. A moment later, Frank skips in front of us, getting under foot. He grabs my free arm, yanks me away from Dennis and throws me onto the ground. I squeal in surprise and fear as I land on my hands and knees in the mud.
'Frank! What the hell-- What are you doing?!'
'What I should have done in the first place,' Frank says, calmly, holding his hand out to Dennis. 'Give me the gun.'
'What? You're not doing that here!'
He turns his head to him. 'The gun, Jack.'
'We need her, we're--'
'No, we don't. We don't need a hostage. She'll slow us down, and there is no fucking Ricky West, is there?'
Dennis pauses, making a herculean effort to bite back his temper. 'Frankie, I've explained to you,' he says, smoothing his voice like he's talking to a child. 'Riccardo Vescio and his cousins are in London and they're asking for you. Why do you think you've had to hole up in that shitty flat for the last few months?'
'Well, I don't know. Why? Because I've not heard anything from anyone about bloody New York mafia. I think you're taking me for a fool, Jack.'
'Now you're being a damn fool. We can't get out of this without her.'
I turn over, sitting on my bottom on the wet ground. Dennis and Frank stand close together in front of me, trying to keep their voices down as they argue. Frank is bigger than Dennis, but he seems cowed by him. Each time Dennis speaks he moves forward and Frank steps back. Can I get to my feet? Can I scramble up fast and run for the woods? Can I get away?
I try to raise myself up but Heath is there, bearing down on me. 'Stay where you are, miss.' His eyes black holes with nothing inside.
'Frank, stoppit! Get the fuck--' Dennis tries to shove him back but Frank puts one arm out, solid as a tree trunk and Dennis runs right into it, bouncing off him like a beach ball.
'Frank,' I say, my voice trembling beyond my control. 'Do you... Do you remember that day, in the back yard, when... when Joey... You let me go. You...'
'It won't hurt miss. I promise. It'll be quick.'
'You let me go and you told me to run,' I say. 'I should have kept running. If you let me go now, I won't go to the police. I'll run. I'll go back to America. I'll...'
'I'm sorry,' he says to me in a tone of voice which sounds sincere, almost humble. 'I did. I did you a favour but you shouldn't have come back here. I wouldn't have had to do this now. I don't like to kill women. It's not right, especially when they're mothers. But when it comes to a case of you or me, I've gotta think of myself. You can understand that can't you?'
'You let her go?!' Dennis echoes and laughs. 'She was a witness and you allowed her get away from you?!'
He turns to him. 'Yes,' he says, like Dennis is finally understanding him. 'She's the witness. She can't live. We need to simplify the situation. Give me the gun and I'll do it.'
Dennis steps back.
'Give me the sodding gun!'
'I'll do it,' Dennis says. 'I said I would, didn't I? I want to do the little tart.'
'So do it.'
Dennis doesn't move. 'Later.'
'Do it now.'
'No. When I say, Frank. I'm in charge here. I'm not doing all this for nothing. We have to--'
'You won't do it,' Frank says. 'We both know you won't. You don't have it in you. You just want to play with her for a while and then you'll let me do it, like the other one.'
'What other one?!'
'The blonde. The girl you beat half to death. Her own mother wouldn't have known her. She couldn't live after you did that, and this one can't live either.'
Dennis is silent, unmoving. I want to scream for help, but my voice has abandoned me. I can't even find words to beg for my life.
'What's so special about her?' Frank asks. 'I'll buy you a whore, if that's what you're bothered about.'
'No.'
'Give me the gun and get walking,' Frank says. 'You don't have to watch.'
Dennis still doesn't move.
Frank shakes his head. 'I'll break her bloody neck instead then.'
He steps over to me, arms reaching. I try to scramble away from him but the soil is wet under my hands and I keep slipping. Frank stands above me. I turn my head away with a strangled whimper and close my eyes. I put my arms out, expecting to feel his hands on me but nothing comes.
I open my eyes.
Dennis points the gun at Frank. 'Get away from her.'
Frank steps towards him. 'What are you--'
'We're not doing her here. We'll do her later, like we planned.'
'Goddammit, Jack...'
'Fuck off, Frank. Stand down or I'll...'
'What? Shoot me?! Come on, then!' He slaps his chest, walking towards Dennis. 'Fucking do it, Jack! Why the hell not?! You've always wanted rid of me, now's your chance! I'm wide open!'
'I will. I will if you don't--'
'No, you won't. You haven't got the bollocks.' Frank spreads his arms to him. 'Know what, fuck you, Jack. Fuck you to hell. I'd rather do the prison time.'
And then, he's gone. Into the dark, swallowed up by the blackness.
'Frank!' Dennis yells. 'Frank, get the fuck back here now or I'll-- FRANK!! FRAAAANNNNNK!!'
Nothing.
Dennis grips my arm and pulls me to my feet. 'Get walking, Princess,' he snarls and shoves me forward.
We take a couple of steps and he yanks me back, making me cry out. He pushes me in the other direction and we set off again but a moment later he stops. He whips his head round, disorientated in the dark.
'Which way is it?' he asks. 'The back road.'
I don't reply.
'Which WAY, Hannah?!'
'This way,' I say, pulling him.
We set off, crossing the boggy land and out onto the proper grass a minute later. It's harder underfoot, solid turf. This seems to satisfy Dennis that we're headed in the right direction, but I know we're not. He's lost. He doesn't know where we are, but I do. I've spent hours walking round the park with Bobbie. I know it pretty well. George studies the antique maps of it and he's told me, bored me, with all the details about it. I'm so thankful for that now. We're not going north, like Dennis wants. We're going south-west, towards the lake and close by, the underground caves. When we near the water, I will shove him with all of my strength and run for the caves. I can hide there. I don't think he'll find me. It's my best chance.
Dennis mutters under his breath as we walk, cursing Frank, cursing me and everything and everybody. He holds my arm again, but looser now. I walk with him, not pulling back like before. The night around us is dense. It submerged Frank immediately when he left. When I have an opportunity, I'll yank myself away from Dennis and run. With luck, the darkness will hide me. We're nearing the lake. I think I can hear the water. I think---
SPLOOSH!
'What's--' Dennis walks straight into the shallow waters at the edge of the lake. He stumbles, clinging ono me so he doesn't fall and dragging me into it with him. We were closer to the lake than I realised. 'You malicious, conniving bitch!' He spins me round with him, kicking water up as we stagger back onto the sandy bank next to the water's edge. 'This isn't the way to the road! This is the fucking lake! You're taking me back to them!'
He puts his hand to my head, grabs a handful of hair and yanks downwards. I yelp, but the sound dies on my lips as he presses the gun to my temple.
'You think you're clever, don't you? Manipulating Frank like that. Manipulating me!! You are going to regret this. I was going to treat you nice, like a lady, but what for? You're just the same as any other cheating cunt--' He yanks my hair again and I wail, more in terror than pain, screwing my eyes shut.
'Let go of her, now.'
I open my eyes, but I can't see anything. Darkness, blackness, all around us. I think for a moment I imagined it, but Dennis freezes. He swings the gun round, pointing it in all directions, listening.
'I said, let go of her.'
'George..!' I try to shout, but it comes out as a squeek.
'The police are here. Can't you see the lights?' George asks calmly.
There are lights. Dazzling flashes of red and blue can be seen through the trees. Sirens and car engines as they race up the main driveway of Friar Park, not far in front of us. The noise echoes all around, disorientating, making it difficult to determine where each sound comes from, including George's voice.
'Let her go and run, Den, while you still can. They'll be here any minute.'
Dennis sweeps round to our left, taking me with him, and fires.
Once. Twice.
The gunshots crack, deafeningly loud, then nothing. There's a moment of silence. Even the sirens have dulled. In the vacuum the clouds above us part and the moon returns, casting silvery light around us. It illuminates the rocks at the water's edge, the large, flat stepping stones which reach out across the lake, the path we'd strayed from, the trees and plants surrounding us and the huge house beyond, but not George. I still can't see George.
'They'll be at the house by now.'
Dennis swings the other way, firing bullets in a wide arc, booming and echoing. I scream. Dennis stops.
'Where the fuck are you?!' he shouts wildly, into the night. 'Fuckin' coward! You want her? Come and get her!'
'What's fucking cowardly?' George says, his voice unexpectedly close. 'Using a woman as a shield.'
Dennis tightens his grip, wrapping my hair tighter in his fist. 'Fucking show yourself!' he demands, but his voice is rising, betraying him, betraying his panic. He swings the gun around wildly, pointing in the dark, this way then that, at every tiny sound, real or imagined.
'Come out or I'll kill you both!'
George is silent.
Dennis pulls my hair again, yanking my head up so he can put his mouth to my ear. I feel his breath on my neck. 'Frank was right about some things, but very wrong about others,' he says to me, voice low. 'It's a shame, baby, we could have been good together.' He kisses me there, half on my ear, half on my neck. His lips are hot and dry. 'Come out, Harrison!' Dennis shouts as he moves the gun to my head. 'Come out now or she's dead! Hannah's brains will be all over this goddamn sandbank! I'll do it! I'll shoot her right here!'
'You won't,' George says, behind us. Dennis spins round, dragging me with him. We stumble into the water again.
'Fucking try me!' Dennis screams, pressing the edge of the gun barrel so hard against my temple, I'm sure it will have drawn blood.
'Your gun is out of bullets.'
I close my eyes and Dennis fires.
He fires again and again and again. The gun clicks metallically. I hear the bullet cylinder rotating clockwise with every squeeze of the trigger, but nothing is discharged. No bullet explodes. It's empty.
With a wail of frustration, Dennis pitches the gun. It lands in the lake, a dull sounding splash, devoured by the dark water, lost.
When I open my eyes again, George is in front of us, standing only a yard away, his face illuminated by moonlight. The whites of his eyes are big, his hand is outstretched, I can see his chest heaving. He wasn't one hundred percent certain that the gun was empty.
'You've lost, Den.' George says levelly, but he sounds less confident than before. 'The police are here. Let Hannah go and run. The deal still stands. Release her and we'll let you go. I'll say I didn't see which way you went in the dark. It'll give you a head start.'
Dennis seems to consider it for a moment. I hold my breath, but as George tries to inch closer to me again, Dennis snatches me backwards with him. I stumble, water from the tide of the lake splashing under my feet. George stops.
Dennis shakes his head. 'Get back, Harrison.'
'Let her go,' George says, calmly, smoothly, like he's trying to approach a nervy horse. 'Just give her to me.'
'I was saving this for you for later,' Dennis purrs in my ear. 'But you might as well have it now.' I feel Dennis's hand on my neck. I think he's going to choke me but then I feel something pointed and small, sharper than a fingernail. 'Can you feel that, darlin'?'
'No--!' George puts his hand out and snatches at Dennis, knocking him off his balance. He lets go of me.
Dennis puts a foot back to steady himself, then he punches me, hard, in the stomach. I double over, winded, my arms folding over my stomach instinctively but even as I gasp, trying to get air into my now sealed up lungs, I think, How stupid to punch me. Everything he could have done and he just punches me.
Dennis doesn't withdraw his fist immediately. He keeps it there in the concave shape of my stomach for a few seconds, a couple of beats of a bass drum, then it's gone, and he's gone, and I'm standing, free, alone, but my legs are weak. I feel weak. Blood rushes to my head, my vision blurs and I feel like I'm going to faint.
George stares in shock, frozen.
I take a couple of stumbling steps forward and unfold my arms. I look at my hands. They're covered in something wet, slick and black like treacle in the moonlight. It takes me a moment to realise it's blood.
My legs give way but George is there, saying my name over and over. He catches me as I crumple and flop like a ragdoll. Gently, George lowers us both to the ground, turning me onto my back, cradling me, and at the same time yelling for help into the night.
'Ge... Georgie,' I say, my voice trembling.
'It's alright. You'll be alright,' he says. 'Hold on, Hannah.' He whips his head round, searching for something, and shouts into the abyss which surrounds our world.
'I'm bleeding,' I tell him, in disbelief. My breath is getting short, I'm panting, like I'm panicking. 'He... hit me... in my stomach...'
George doesn't reply. He's still calling for help but I can't hear any reply. Shaking, I take one hand from where I'm gripping my stomach and place it on his arm. Smudges of my blood transfer from my fingertips onto his sleeve. I intend to wrap my hand around his wrist and tug his arm to attract his attention, but I don't seem to be able to make my fingers curl. George looks down at me.
'They're coming, Han,' he promises. 'I can see the lights. They're coming.'
'I can't... breathe...' I try to say. I'm not sure the words are loud enough to be heard.
'Fuck,' George says, not listening anyway. 'Fuck, they're all the way over by the-- Han, can you hold on if I go and fetch them?' As he's speaking, he's moving me, trying to lie me down on the damp sandy soil.
I try to grab him, but the effort makes me dizzy. Blotchy grey patches crowd in from the edges of my vision.
'I'll get help, love,' George says. 'You'll be alright. I promise, you'll be alright...'
'Don't go...' I cough. 'Please... don't leave me...'
George slips his hand into mine. 'It's okay,' he says, trying to make me calm. 'Just breathe. Concentrate on breathing, Han. Don't worry. Everything is going to be...'
'George?' I cry, strangled. I can't see him. I can't see anything. Dark. Blurry. Something in my eyes. Mud and water.
'Here, love,' he says. 'I'm here.'
I blink hard a couple of times, then I can see him, above me. He's holding me, arm around my shoulders. I'm half lying on his lap, my head against his stomach. I can't remember him doing that. I might have been unconscious for a moment. With his other hand, he's pressing down on my abdomen as he holds me awkwardly. Pressing hard.
'You didn't... leave me...'
He tries to smile. 'No. Never could leave you, could I?' he says.
'You came back.'
'I didn't go in the first place,' George says, twisting his head round. 'I didn't think I should leave you on your own.' He bites his lip, anxious and mumbles, 'Where the fuck are they?'
I shake my head, but George isn't looking. 'You came... home... How did you know he'd...'
'I didn't, not really. It was because of what you said and... I'll explain properly later, when you're better.'
'Glad you...' I try to reply, but the effort leaves me breathless.
It's warm tonight. I'm not cold, even lying half soaked on the muddy bank of the lake. I can hear the water running, lapping gently. It's soothing. The sirens have stopped and it's quiet now. Friar Park is very peaceful. Serene. Above us, the sky is a blanket of dark navy with thousands of tiny pinpricks of stars. It's beautiful. I don't hurt. I can feel it and the pressure from George's hand, but it doesn't hurt. I feel like I'm floating, floating...
....Floating down the stream of time from life to life with me....
I wonder if this is how Minnie felt...
'Keep talking to me, Han,' George says, desperately, shaking me. 'You need to keep talking.'
'Bobbie--?'
'She's okay. I locked her in the study. Police will have found her by now.'
'Emma's... Knocked out, took her off--'
George presses his lips together. 'They'll find her too. Don't worry.'
'He-- Dennis--'
'He's gone. The police are coming. Am... Ambulance is coming too. They're all at the house. I can see them searching it, but I can't make them hear us... They'll be here soon though, Han. They'll find us. You just have to hold on, okay, love? You can do that for me, can't you?'
'Hannah! HANNAH!'
I snap my eyes open again. George is trying to shake me awake without moving his hand from my stomach, jiggling me with his leg. I'm lying half in his lap. Where he's pressing down hurts now. Sharp. I try to raise my hand to tell him, but I haven't the strength.
'Don't fall asleep,' George says, desperately. 'Talk to me, keep your eyes on me. Look at me, Han.'
I cough, my throat full of liquid.
'Talk to me, love. Say something.'
'You have... beautiful eyes,' I tell him.
George smiles. 'So do you,' he says.
I laugh, or try to. It sounds guttural, like I'm drowning. 'I don't.'
'Yes, you do. I love your eyes, Hannah. I used to dream about your eyes.'
I laugh again, more normal sounding. 'Corny...'
'But it was your smile that made me fall in love with you,' he tells me. 'And your laugh. When you laugh, you light up, Han. You come... alive...'
He chokes on the last word. He shifts his weight and tries to pull me up.
'And when you sing, that's the same,' he continues. 'You're different when you sing. That's why you can't give it up. It's the only time I think you look truly happy and content, and... free... No cares or worries. Except when we're in bed together.' He grins, but the smile quickly fades.
This morning George was making love to me in our bedroom. We were talking about Minnie's album and George's solo one, making plans for the weekend, looking to the future. It feels like a long time ago. A lifetime ago.
'I'm sorry, George...' I mumble. I'm so tired. My eyes are closing. 'I brought this to you... I should have... stayed away...'
'Hannah?' he asks, shaking me. 'Han, come on.'
I open my eyes.
'You've got to stay awake, love,' he says again, like he's trying to reason with me. 'Don't go to sleep. You've got to talk to me. And you've got to... to be alright, Han, because you have to sing again. You've got to sing for an audience so I can see you happy like that again. And Bobbie's never seen you sing properly live.'
'Bobbie...' I breathe.
'Don't worry, she's okay. The police are there. They're looking for us. They'll be here any minute.'
'Tell her... when she's older... I'm sorry...'
'What? No--'
'Look... Look after her, will you?'
'No!' George says, firmly. 'No, I won't, Han, because you're going to do that. You're going to be here, with me and Bobs and we'll all be okay.'
I want to go to sleep. I feel heavy with it. I'm breathing slowly, like I'm already asleep.
'Music...'
'What?'
'Music... Play to her... Sing to her...'
'Hannah,' George whines. 'Han, please--'
'I'm sorry, Georgie...'
'Don't. Don't say things like that.'
'Look... Look at the stars,' I tell him, forcing the words out.
George raises his head. 'They're beautiful.'
'Count them... The whole universe...'
He looks down at me again, blinking.
'The North Star, the brightest star... Look at the North Star, Georgie. I will be looking at it too from where I am. Then we're... we're still connected.' My breathing is shallow. I makes it hard to speak. 'Together. Never far away from you...'
'Han, stop saying these things,' George pleads, distressed. 'You're not... You're not going to...' He inhales sharply, trying to stifle something, a cry, a sob. I wish I could hold him.
'I...' Sudden pain in my stomach takes my breath away. '...love you,' I finish. 'Always love you, George...'
I haven't the strength to speak any more. I look at George's face, his deep, dark eyes full of fear. One side of him is illuminated by the light from the house. They've found the fuse box. Every window in the building blazes with yellow light as the police search the rooms, searching for us. I can hear them shouting but I can't make out the words. There are dogs barking. They're close to us, but so very far, far away.
I try to smile at George. I don't think I manage it. I try to keep his face in my mind as I close my eyes, but I can't do it. Broken images, shards of dreams and memories crowd in, tumbling through my half-conscious mind uncontrollably.
...George, teddyboy hair, his brother's pink shirt, 'Can I, uh... Can I see you again?' - - - My mother's lavender perfume - - - Minnie in her orange dress and white heels - - - Ricky West's green eyes - - - Bobbie's toy rabbit, Bun-Bun - - - George holding me against the bedroom door, 'When I wake up in the morning, when I go to sleep at night and every minute in between. You.' - - - You're my good girl, Hannah, aren't you? - - - My wooden box of diaries, lid open, lock broken off - - - Beatle George with his cherry red guitar - - - Minnie squeezing my hand, 'Don't let him see you crying.' - - - John Lennon, raging, 'What did you bloody do, Spanner?!' - - - 'Hannah, I am in love with you,' George whispers. 'I loved you when I was seventeen and I still love you now.' - - - It's a girl, Mrs West. You have a daughter...
George pulls me closer to him. Holding on to me, arms wrapped around me. His stained, dirty fingers are interlocked with mine, as he presses down on my stomach. He's rocking us, gently swaying, only slightly, like we're slow dancing. I feel like I'm floating again. George is holding me tightly, but he can't forever. Soon, I will drift away on the lake I'm lying next to, washed away by it's tides.
...We can see the whole universe from here. You can look up at the North Star where you are and I can look up at the North Star where I am and it's the same thing we're looking at. The handle of the plough points to the North Star and that's home. Home is where all the people you love are...
He mumbles something close to my ear, words I can't pick out at first, until I realise he's chanting. I'm chanting too, but I don't know if he can hear me. I like to listen to George's mantras. His soft voice, rhythmic and soothing as he repeats it over and over again. I can't tell exactly what he's saying, but as I float away from him I chant my own mantra to the same time...
...I love you, Georgie. I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love...