Ethan Justice: Origins

15: Sunday 25th September, 01:20

TIREDNESS ENVELOPED SAVANNAH as she lay in the deep bath covered in citrus and ylang ylang scented bubbles. The bath was so wide and deep that at times she found herself floating and needing to grab the side to steady herself.

She was worried about John. He had been a tower of strength all day. Even when she thought he was truly disturbed, he had continually acted with her best interests at heart. He'd even sold his outrageously expensive Rolex. So what if it didn't keep perfect time? It was a huge gesture all the same. He really was an enigma of the most baffling kind. Could he possibly be right not to trust the two agents? She didn't think so and she didn't understand his reluctance to team up with them. Surely they had a better chance of getting out of this mix-up unscathed with their help than without it.

Savannah fought the compulsion to shut her eyes. Half an hour ago she had been so alert that she imagined sleep to be several hours away, yet the second Johnson had agreed to John's request to deal with Christos by themselves, the familiar lethargy, which accompanied abject disappointment, had returned with a vengeance.

Tiredness won and her eyes closed briefly. Images of Christos and Tibbett flooded her mind, and her eyes popped back open. She pressed the scented bar of soap against the complimentary white flannel embroidered in gold thread with the Ritz family crest and began to lather up her whole body with suds. She rinsed away the foamy bubbles and repeated the process several times. Each time she pressed a little harder. Not an inch of her skin went unwashed but no matter how much pressure she applied, the feeling of being dirty would not be washed away. She realised that this feeling came from inside and could not be reached with a flannel or even the roughest of brushes.

If she were to feel clean again, she would need to come to terms with the events of the day as well as the possible outcomes of the one to come. She would take her own life before letting Christos sell her to the Arabs. Damn John for wanting to take on Christos without assistance.

With two hands on the side of the bath for purchase, Savannah pulled herself upright and showered off the soft bubbles from her body. Her skin was as soft as velvet. No wonder the rich always looked so good. Limitless money could make a princess out of a harridan. If only they had enough money for her to disappear.

She dried herself with the large, fluffy, white towels but even these hurt when in contact with the places she had scrubbed the hardest. She put on her second set of underwear from Harrods, a soft pink matching set of bra and panties, and stormed back into the bedroom to confront John.

*

"Am I attractive?"

John was on the phone checking his new watch for accuracy against the speaking clock. As he looked up at Savannah, the handset, which had been held in place between his shoulder and his ear, fell to the bed by his side. Savannah stood in front of him dressed only in her sexy underwear.

While John believed the question was delivered with implied ogling rights, the sight of this damp-haired, crazy specimen, who had never looked more beautiful, brought out the bashful in him. Surprised at himself, he turned his head to the right, picked up the phone, put it on the base and concentrated his gaze on the cream-coloured wall.

"Smith, look at me!" she bellowed, marching around between John's position on the bed and the wall he was watching. "Am I attractive?" she repeated.

"Jesus, Savannah, what's got into you?"

"Look at me, Smith," she demanded more loudly.

John, concerned that Savannah's volume would only get louder and they would be ejected from the hotel, reluctantly and yet somehow not, turned his eyes towards a nearly naked Savannah Jones. Not wanting to be accused of focussing on one particular body part, he attempted to take in the view without moving his eyes, but the only way he could manage this was to look beyond her to the wall behind, leaving her quite out of focus.