The Final Falcon Says I Do

‘I’m sorry,’ he said harshly. ‘I didn’t mean—’

‘Neither did I,’ she said, in a voice whose harshness matched his own. ‘Please go now.’

‘Freya, my dear—’

‘I’m not your dear. I’m not your anything. Just because Dan dumped me, did you think I was there for the taking?’

‘Of course not. I wasn’t trying to make love to you. I promise that’s one thing I’ll never do. You can count on that. It was meant as comfort.’

‘That’s one kind of comfort I don’t need.’

He seemed about to say something, but then his shoulders sagged as though he realised it was useless and he turned to the door.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘It’s not what you think. Don’t be angry. I only wanted to help you.’

‘Not like that,’ she snapped. ‘Goodbye, Jackson.’

He gave her an uneasy look, then left without another word.

He left her standing alone in the middle of the room, until her legs gave way and she collapsed onto the floor, wrapping her arms about her head, burying her face as though trying to hide from herself.

How could that have happened? How could she have felt that flickering of treacherous desire for Jackson when she was still dead inside from Dan’s betrayal? She’d been so sure that all feeling was over for her, yet in a moment the old attraction for Jackson had come flickering out of the shadows, confusing, threatening.

‘No,’ she muttered. ‘No, no, no!’

She’d run into his arms, grateful for the safety he’d seemed to offer. But there was no safety—only more devastation. The only safety lay in escape. She must get far away from him.

Monte Carlo. Janine and Amos would be leaving soon and she would go with them. Once there, she could retreat into herself and cease to exist as far as Jackson was concerned.

Cease to exist. It had a reassuring sound. And it was the only refuge that would not betray her.

She lay down on the bed and stared into the darkness for the rest of the night. Even darkness was reassuring now.

The next morning Freya went to Janine’s and Amos’s room, glad to find her mother alone. Janine was delighted with her daughter’s decision.

‘You’re coming with us? That’s wonderful. If only we could convince Jackson to come too. He was here an hour ago and Amos was hoping to persuade him, but no luck. Such a pity.’

‘He’s starting a new job,’ Freya said.

‘So he said, but Amos is furious. They’ve had a big row. He’s as stubborn as his father, so it’s stalemate for the moment. But perhaps Jackson will change his mind and join us soon.’

‘No,’ Freya said quietly. ‘I don’t think he will.’

For Jackson to join them was the last thing she wanted. Nothing mattered now but to get a safe distance from him until she could cope with what had happened.

* * *

The next few days passed in a daze: the flight to Monte Carlo, the drive to Amos’s magnificent house overlooking the bay, the feeling of having put trouble behind her at least for the moment.

Jackson stayed in touch, linking up via a video connection every evening, talking cheerfully to them from the screen. At first Freya watched these occasions from the sidelines, out of Jackson’s sight, not joining in the conversations.

But then he noticed her before she could slip away and cried, ‘Hey, there’s my little sister. How’s it going, sis?’

His use of the word ‘sister’ sounded like a message. He was telling her that their old pleasant relationship could be restored. But she doubted that could ever happen.

‘It’s going well,’ she said.

‘Glad to hear it.’

‘Is everything all right with you?’ she asked politely.

‘I’ve never had such a fascinating trip. And, Dad, when I see you I’ve got something to tell you that’ll really make you sit up...’

* * *

At last Jackson arrived at the villa. His greeting to Freya was friendly, without any tense edge. She knew a moment’s resentment that he’d brushed everything aside so easily. Clearly what had happened mattered little to him and he thought it was the same with her. Yet he was right, she realised. Casual indifference was the only thing that would make each other’s presence bearable.

Over a pleasant dinner Jackson told vivid tales.

‘I’ve never regarded myself as a man susceptible to magic,’ he said, ‘but the magic began as soon as I arrived. I was in a hotel that looked out over the desert where the great pyramids are, and I could see one from my widow. I’ll never forget standing there as dawn broke, seeing the pyramid slowly emerge from the darkness. And everywhere I went—the temples, the Valley of the Kings—there was something that would make me stare with amazement.’

‘But what was it you had to tell your father?’ Janine said. ‘We’re dying of curiosity.’

‘All right. Here goes. I had to study the Egyptian gods. There are many of them, with varying degrees of power. One of the most powerful is called Horus.’

‘But why should I be interested in him?’ Amos wanted to know.

‘Because he’s known as the Falcon god. I couldn’t believe it when I first heard that, but in pictures and statues he’s represented as a falcon. Look.’

He reached into a bag and brought out a small statue of a bird with a cap on its head.

‘That’s Horus the Falcon god,’ he said, handing it to Amos.

Janine burst out laughing at the sight of Amos’s face as he studied the figure.

‘You said it was powerful,’ he murmured.

‘He’s the god of the sky, the sun and the moon,’ Jackson explained. ‘I thought you’d enjoy that.’

It was rare for Amos to smile with genuine pleasure, but now he managed a grin.

‘That sounds about right,’ he said.

‘They knew about you all the time,’ Freya teased him.

As the meal ended Jackson drew his father aside to tell him more colourful stories about Egypt.

‘I’m so glad about that,’ Janine told her daughter when they were alone. ‘Amos is really enjoying it.’