Chapter 19
Thought of the day…
Trust your gut.
‘Do you remember the ethics professor I had at Oxford?’ he began, twin lines of concentration appearing between his brows. ‘You met him that one time at the pub.’
‘Professor Patel?’ I asked, remembering a slightly built, softly spoken man in his late forties.
‘That’s him. And do you remember the project I was working on after we got married? At Langford Rise?’
‘That council estate in South London – the builders cut corners, pocketed the savings, and extorted the council. You exposed them.’
‘That’s the one. Not really within my purview as an engineer, but too much didn’t add up and I wasn’t prepared to let it go.’
‘You did the right thing. I was proud of you.’
‘Thanks, that means a lot. But getting back to Professor Patel… It wasn’t just a catch-up that day at the pub.
After you went back to the flat, he got to the real reason he’d asked to meet.
He was recruiting me, Ally. Apparently, he’d been keeping an eye on me – for years – since our first tutorial together.
You see, he’s not only a professor; he also helps a particular organisation find people who might be…
suitable. For the sort of work they do.’
‘You mean espionage?’
‘Eh… that term’s probably a little loaded for my liking. And I’m not really a spy – more of an investigator.’
‘And you’re investigating Julian – you and Elsa?’ I asked, even though I already knew the answer.
‘Yes.’
‘And this business deal… Has Julian done something wrong?’
‘Not yet, but it seems like only a matter of time.’
‘Oh god, will he go to jail?’ I asked bluntly. My hand hovered over my mouth of its own accord.
‘That’s not up to me. I’m sorry.’
‘Is there a way he can avoid it?’
‘Like I said, I’m not the one who can make that decision. Nor is Elsa.’
‘Okay.’
Only it was very much not okay. Whatever Julian had or hadn’t done, surely he didn’t deserve to go to jail?
An idea came to me.
‘Is there any way I can help? What if I persuade him to cooperate?’
‘Ally…’ Tommy angled his body towards me. ‘Please stay out of this. There are too many unknown factors and—’
‘And Kovalec… He was the one threatening Julian on the phone,’ I cut in, ignoring his warning.
‘Ally,’ he said more firmly.
‘So, that’s a yes then,’ I shot back. ‘And Kovalec is your actual target, isn’t he? Not Julian.’
Tommy expelled a loud breath, which I also took to mean yes.
Hmm, maybe I can wear a wire – cosy up to Kovalec and get him to confess. Not that I know what he needs to confess to – not yet anyway – but I’m positive there’s something I can do.
But I still needed Tommy to fill in some gaps – well, lots of gaps.
‘So…’ I ventured, only to be cut off.
‘I should go.’ Tommy stood suddenly and headed towards the minibar where I’d torn his clothes off.
‘Wait a minute,’ I implored.
I got up and followed, bewildered as I watched him hunt for his briefs. He found them next to the window and shoved them into his pocket, then stooped to collect his T-shirt from the floor, pulling it on before picking up his shoes.
‘So, you’re flying out tomorrow morning?’ he asked, as if it were a foregone conclusion.
‘No. I told you, I’ve extended my stay.’
‘Jesus, Ally.’
He huffed, and I bit my lower lip, suddenly too weary to fight any more. What was the point, anyway? If he wasn’t going to tell me more about what was going on with Julian, why try to keep him there?
‘Well, go on then,’ I said quietly, nodding towards the door.
He held my gaze for a long moment, then left without another word.
The door closed and silence descended, thick and deafening. Julian’s mess, with all its confusion and contradictions, fell away, and in its place rose a stark and sobering truth: Tommy had been a spy all along.
And his decision to join a secret organisation that sort-of-but-not-really spied on people had left a wreckage in its wake – our marriage.
I sank onto the sofa, a lump rising in my throat as the sting of tears threatened.
All those lies he’d told…
Those trips that had kept him away for weeks or months at a time…
He wasn’t saving remote villages from flooding or preventing entire towns from crumbling to the ground whenever the tectonic plates collided.
He was sneaking around, pretending to be a skipper, and bugging people’s villas!
I cast my eyes about. Had he bugged mine?
God, I hoped not. The thought of Tommy listening in while I pleasured myself…
‘Ugh,’ I groaned with a shudder.
Then something popped into my mind – the story Tommy would tell the old ladies at the bus stop about treasure hunting in Peru… Was that actually true?
I shook my head, dislodging the notion. Tommy was an investigator, not Indiana Jones!
But at least the picture of him dressed head to toe in khaki and wearing that famous fedora was enough to stave off the looming tears.
I didn’t have the luxury of wallowing in what ifs.
I needed to focus on the what the fuck do I do nows.
‘What the fuck do I do now?’ I muttered.
Well, first there was the Instagram post. I could have missed an update while I was in the throes of passion, so I picked up my phone and checked.
Maya had emailed twenty minutes ago, CCing Claude. I opened it.
Hi Ally,
We’ve gone with the ‘lean into it’ approach.
I’ve reposted the original to our feed and shared it to our stories, clarifying that there is nothing romantic between you and Julian and that exes can remain close friends, like you two have.
We’ve already had some comments on the post – mostly supportive.
I’ll keep an eye on engagement overnight and come back to you in the morning.
Best,
Maya
PS I think Niki was relieved she got off so lightly.
Niki wasn’t the only one who was relieved, and I sent a quick reply to Maya to thank her for her excellent work.
Now, what to do about Julian? He obviously didn’t know who Tommy and Elsa really were, but I wasn’t about to blow their cover. I was already out of my depth – who knew what mayhem that might unleash?
But I could still be there for him – somehow… Then it came to me.
The thing about hosting a VIP is that you go above and beyond to make their experience extraordinary. If I knew Julian – and I did – he planned to do exactly that for Ivan Kovalec.
And I wanted in.
But who could get me the information I needed? Tommy wasn’t going to share any more intel than he already had – he wanted me as far away from this mess as possible.
Then I thought of the one person who’d be in the know and owed me. I picked up my phone and navigated to the itinerary Niki had sent, scrolling to the end where she’d included her phone number. Five minutes later, I had what I needed.
According to Niki, Julian was hosting a dinner for Kovalec aboard Ally’s Odyssey tomorrow night.
Trudy and Dale were invited, with Tommy and Elsa on board as crew.
That didn’t add up from a staffing perspective – the yacht had its own crew and surely Niki would have been a better choice as guest services director?
But perhaps Julian still had her on the naughty step for the Instagram debacle.
I didn’t ask, not wanting to rub salt in her wounds.
I also suspected that Tommy and Elsa had wangled themselves onto the yacht, which probably meant that something big was about to go down.
All signs pointed to this being no ordinary dinner.
So, first I needed an invitation. I was almost positive that Julian would say yes if I invited myself – he might even be grateful for the moral support. And once on board, I’d just have to keep my wits about me then figure it out on the fly. I could do that – I was great at thinking on my feet.
Not the firmest plan, but what choice did I have? Fly back to London and pretend everything was tickety-boo? Hah!
I called Julian, and he answered right away.
‘Three times in one day. I’m starting to think you might have a thing for me, Ally.’
‘Jules, I know about Ivan Kovalec,’ I said, cutting to the chase.
‘Er… know what exactly?’ he asked, a wary edge to his voice.
Bugger – I hadn’t meant that to sound sinister. But to be fair, I was new to all this spy stuff.
‘That he’s coming here, silly – a little birdie told me,’ I replied, steering us back to our keep-it-light comfort zone. ‘How come you didn’t say anything? I mean, Ivan Kovalec – that’s a big deal, Jules.’
He laughed, a sign that I’d covered my tracks. ‘To be honest, I didn’t think you’d care. Ivan’s a crusty old man who only talks about work.’
‘So, you have a lot in common then?’ I teased.
‘Ooh, low blow.’
‘Can I meet him?’ I asked, diving right in. ‘You must be planning something special?’
‘Er, yes, a dinner on the yacht, but aren’t you leaving tomorrow morning?’
Double bugger – I hadn’t told Julian I was sticking around.
‘Oh, I can stay an extra day,’ I offered, as if it had only just occurred to me. ‘It’s a special occasion, right?’
He was silent – probably deciding whether to invite me into the inner circle, where things got… murky.
‘Actually, you could be of use to me,’ he said after a long pause.
‘Oh?’ I asked, my gut gripping with nervous excitement.
‘Well, Dale and Trudy will be there, and you can keep Trudy company if the menfolk end up talking shop all night.’
‘Ahh, right. Well, I adore Trudy, so it would be my pleasure.’
‘Perfect,’ he said with a smile in his voice. ‘We’ll be flying over to the yacht at 7.30.’
‘About that…’ I ventured, figuring it was as good a time as any.
‘Mmm?’
‘Any chance you can change the name, Jules? You did promise ages ago.’
He chuckled. ‘God, I’d forgotten about that.’
‘You forgot that you named your boat after me? Gee, thanks.’
‘No, not like that – it’s just… that’s her name. I’m used to it. And she’s a yacht, not a boat,’ he retorted, his mild snobbery showing itself.
‘Yacht then.’
‘I’ll change the name, Ally.’ I took that with a grain of salt, but at least I’d asked.
As I had nothing more to say – I’d got the invite I wanted and asked about Ally’s Odyssey – I wished him goodnight and ended the call.
For some time, I sat with my phone in my hands, staring at the painting on the wall opposite. It was cobalt-blue geometric lines on a white canvas – a nod to Greek architecture, I supposed. I traced the lines with my eyes, mulling over my situation.
It had only been a handful of days since I’d taken Julian’s call and agreed to come to Aetheria. But that had been enough to turn my world upside down. Mostly because of Tommy.
It was surreal that he was there. That was the only word to describe it – both real and unbelievable at once.
The sex had been incredible, but we’d always had mind-blowing chemistry. Even after weeks or sometimes months apart, we would come together as if no time had passed, fluent in each other’s erotic landscapes, carrying us to another echelon. Like tonight.
Of course, a relationship is far more than sex. And Tommy’s job had caused an emotional chasm that widened with each separation. By the time I’d concluded it was over, we were barely speaking.
I cast my mind back to the last night Tommy and I stayed in our flat together, the night before I moved out.
We talked that night – really talked, as if we were famished for conversation, for each other.
At some point around 2 a.m. we were laughing so hard, my stomach muscles were screaming.
And I considered – just for a moment – that I could stay and we’d be okay.
That we really were in love and we got each other – we saw each other, who we truly were.
But then he’d set an alarm, saying he should probably get some sleep as he was flying out the next morning. And that’s when I knew I’d made the right decision.
A heartbreaking, gut-wrenching decision that ate me up from the inside. But the right one.
So, our goodbye – the one that ended our marriage – was a silent hug at the door of our flat, me in my pyjamas and Tommy dressed for the next adventure, duffel bag by his feet.
We’d held each other tightly and though I fought them off as best I could, my tears had drenched the front of Tommy’s shirt.
He’d released me, then cupped my face in his hands, pressing a soft kiss to my lips.
Easing back, he’d said, ‘I love you, Ally. I’m sorry you don’t think we can make this work.’ Or something to that effect – an insinuation that it had been my doing alone.
Before I could respond, he’d left, not even casting a look over his shoulder. Claude had come to stay for a few days, making sure I ate and showered and helping me pack up my belongings and move into a flat share across London, closer to her and Gregory.
And now I was in Greece with Tommy, and we’d just had our trademarked super-hot sex – but we hadn’t discussed us. Not properly.
Not how easily we’d slipped back into Ally-and-Tommy mode that day on Naxos.
Not the still-burning attraction between us.
Not that we’d admitted to missing each other, or blamed each other for our marriage break-up.
And definitely not how getting back together would be a seismic shift – professionally – for us both. If that’s what he wanted. If it’s what I wanted.
And that was the clincher. I loved being the Diva – what she stood for, what she’d accomplished, all the people she’d helped.
How would I find anything as fulfilling – and if I did, would I even feel like me? There was such a fine line between us – the Diva and me – and yes, sometimes I just wanted to be Ally, but I always wanted to come back to her.
Not that it was likely to matter.
Because on top of everything else was the gigantic lie that had torched our marriage and sat festering for a decade.
And instead of facing it, he’d skedaddled.
Maybe that told me everything I needed to know.