Time Changes

Part Nineteen

Peter opened his eyes, it was after nine am, it wasn’t like him to sleep late like this, but then he’d had a late night with Megan, another college professor had organised a party in a hotel in Sydney. They’d danced, drank and eaten into the early hours, then travelled back to the house in a taxi. Despite both having their own room, they’d not slept apart since that first trip to the local bar six weeks earlier.

Looking to his right he saw the bed was empty, Megan had been asleep there when he’d fallen asleep. He wanted to go back to sleep, but his mouth was drier than the Sahara desert, so he climbed to his feet, slid on some boxers, then made for the kitchen. Running the cold tap he filled a large glass, then downed it, before refilling to take back to bed with him.

As he left the kitchen he heard a sound, and walking to the back door he could hear a voice in the distance...Megan. And she was at the furthest end of the veranda on the telephone. He wasn’t one for snooping, but the gentle breeze seemed to be blowing her voice into the house.

                “Of course I miss you! You know that! But things happen...Once I’ve done this we’ll be sorted...He’s got money! I TOLD you that! He lives in some huge house in Switzerland!...I’m telling you darling he, and more importantly his fake baby, are going to help us get that house deposit. Ok?”

Peter stepped back in the house, his heart racing, nausea taking over, but this time not through any misplaced hangover. As he crawled back to bed, he tried to think. She was planning to scam him? Carefree, good for a laugh Megan? When did his judgement become so poor?

She was insatiable, throwing herself at him morning and night, but now that he thought about it, the rest of the time she wasn’t really that bothered. Fortunately, he was ALWAYS careful. And until now he’d not slipped up. He had to find out if there was any truth in what he heard. Then a voice laughed in his head, ‘yeah hang around and commit suicide by sex.’ Nope, he had to keep away from her, and work out a decent excuse to stop having sex with her, without her turning psycho. Because he was now scared, really scared of where this could be heading.  

Alexis wondered what to do for a long time. Suddenly now that she’d parted company with Luiz, she hadn’t heard from Thiago or any of the other’s. For the first time since leaving London she was lonely. Add that to the fact that a huge part of her wanted to call Peter, then she was in real limbo. She was desperate to find out what really happened between him and her father, and she also wanted to hear his name again. But the other part of her couldn’t cope with rejection again, even though he’d declared undying devotion to her a month earlier, she was never confident of anything when it came to Peter Marlow. He wasn’t her Achilles heel, he was far, far more potent, and she was almost safer alone.

Work was hectic, and on one particular day, a hot humid Wednesday, Lex had been called to a house near the clinic by a distraught woman in her early fifties. Gabbling in Portuguese Lex ran behind her with her doctor’s bag, Paolo her translator/security companion was trying to translate as they moved.

                “Her son has been shot. She doesn’t know how or where, she came home to find him.”

                “Shot? Then we need an ambulance.”

He nodded, “but it’s difficult getting one to come this deep into the favela. Whilst she waits she wants any help she can get.”

The boy was younger than her, delirious with pain, blood bumping rapidly from an abdominal wound. Dropping to her knees she tried her best to stem the blood flow. To slide an IV into his emaciated arm, to get fluids at least in to him. The distant sirens were a welcome relief, but she knew she was losing this boy, and when she heard footsteps and looked up her heart sank. Rather than experienced paramedics, a group of armed policemen burst into the building and started searching the house.