Erotic Refugees (25 page)

She was sitting on a bench in
Mariatorget, in the speckled shadow of a lime tree, gazing at the
spray of water that emerged from the bronze jaws of the sea-serpent
fountain. Around her the park was full of summer life. Children
played on the swings, people slouched around on the grass in
t-shirts and sunglasses, and there were even a few brave toddlers
wading in the shallow water and squealing with delight as the
serpent misted the air around them into shifting rainbows.

Anja looked up. Her shoulders
were barely covered by a loose blue top that showed off her pale
skin. Eoin liked that she avoided the whole tanned-skin thing
favoured by most Swedish women. In fact, he thought pale skin on a
woman was quite Victorian and sexy. Not that Anja needed it, as she
stirred enough physical sensations without extra assistance.

He said hello and settled down
beside her. They both sat there, not looking at each other, as the
shrieks of the children rang out around them. Eoin quickly began to
feel out of his depth. Dialogue had never been much of an issue
with Anja as usually their conversations were short and
monosyllabic. But now the silence stretched and he realised that
he'd had to say something, anything at all, to prevent things from
sliding from strained into embarrassing.

He cleared his throat, and was
all ready to babble when his thoughts were interrupted, strangely
enough, by the sudden mooing of a cow. Anja snatched up her mobile
with unusual haste and nodded as she read the message.

“
Oh look,” she said.
“We'll have to go to the café over here first. I have to pick
something up.” She glanced at him with an odd expression that he
couldn’t read. “If that's okay with you.”

Eoin shrugged. “Sure”. The
longer they stayed out, the longer he could avoid saying the very
hard thing he had come to say.

He followed after her. The
black straps of her bra were occasionally visible through the loose
neck of her top. He swallowed, glad to be outdoors and not within
falling-over distance of Anja's bed, where The Plan might find
itself temporarily shoved in a cupboard.

They crossed the street and
halted outside a café where a dozen or so tables were arranged.
Anja looked around, shading her eyes with a hand, and gave a little
wave. “Oh, here she is now.”

Eoin turned and felt the
emotional equivalent of a solid punch to the chest. Sounds faded
and all cognitive rubber belts at his command slipped their gears
and ended up flopping uselessly inside his head.

It was Maria, in the flesh and
approaching rapidly on foot. Eoin's face twitched, unsure about
whether it should be smiling or frowning or what. Having no
instructions to go on, it settled for a frozen grimace.

Maria came to a halt. She wore
a tight red polo shirt, olive green shorts, open-toed sandals and a
ring on the small toe of her right foot. She extended her hand but
he noticed she wasn't smiling. In fact he couldn't quite say what
expression she had.

Eoin shook the hand offered. It
was narrow and soft.

“
So this is Eoin?” she
said. “I remember. From midsummer, right?”

Eoin grunted and smiled
simultaneously, aware that it made him look slightly mad. “Sure, I
mean yes, I mean … yeah.”

Maria studied him for a moment
before turning to Anja. She pecked her friend on the cheek and
handed over a book.

“
Oh,” Anja said, as if
surprised. “Thanks. For that.”

Maria nodded and had a
leisurely look around, while Eoin's heart thumped so hard he could
feel it in his thumbs.

“
So,” she said. “Won't
you both have a coffee with me? Or are you in a crazy hurry? The
day is too nice to not sit a while, I think.”

Eoin gave a hopeless shrug, and
found a reason to check out some scuff damage on his shoe just so
he could snatch another glance at her toe-ring. Anja nudged him and
he nodded.

“
Great,” Maria said.
“Take that table there, I'll be back shortly!”

Eoin sat down, well aware that
he was doing a bad job of hiding his fluster. Anja, he noticed, was
tense too. Maybe she'd spotted some spark between him and Maria and
had concluded she shouldn't get in the way of it. Whatever the
reason, they sat through a painful few minutes of ignoring each
other while poking at zips, laces, fingernails and
salt-shakers.

Thankfully, just as all
distractions had ran out, Maria returned with a fully laden tray.
There were tea and coffee and buns on it, and it looked like she'd
already paid for everything.

“
Here we are,” she said
and placed on the table a latte for Anja, an over-sized cup of tea
for herself and another one for Eoin. Eoin sniffed at his tea and
was surprised to discover that it was Lapsang. He nodded as he
stirred the tea ball, relieved to have something to distract him
from all the strangeness with Anja. As he removed the ball Maria
slid forward a small dish on which sat a jug of milk and two sugar
sticks. Eoin poured in both sugar sticks and, with a gleeful grin,
reached for the milk.

Then he froze, realising
something very obvious. How did Maria know his favourite way to
take Lapsang? He lifted his gaze and saw she was staring at him.
And proper serious staring too. He glanced down at the milk jug,
and then back at the tea, and a host of daft explanations rattled
through his head.

There was, however, only one
that fitted. He'd just been rumbled.

“
I knew it was you
chatting to me,” Maria said in a low hiss. “Oh I wasn't sure at
first, but then Anja told me more about you, and I started to
suspect. But I thought no, he wouldn't do that, is he stupid? But,
see, I was right! So”—she leaned closer, her penetrating glare a
thing to be feared—“Eoin or Paul or John or whatever name it is
today, what the hell do you think you are doing?”

Eoin’s skin crawled with terror as he
realised, far too late, that his ghost profile plan had been well
and truly rubbish. And now he’d have to pay the price for it.

“
Look,” he said, holding
his hands up, “I didn't mean to hurt anybody, I just—”

Maria laughed. “Is that what
you think, that you hurt me? Well I know you were not trying to do
that. First because you were such a bad liar, you couldn't even
keep track of your own lies. Didn't you take notes?”

“
Ah,” he said hopelessly,
as he’d pretty much just winged most of it, making things up when
required. He hadn't counted on her paying that much attention. He
leaned back and built a defensive wall of crossed arms. “Look, I'm
so—”

“
Don't.” Maria shook her
head. “If you say you're sorry, I think I will spill this tea onto
your”—she pointed—“onto there, between your legs, whatever is
called. Do you follow me? And don't say anything else either. Anja
here, she said, oh no, he wouldn't do that, he is honest, this
Eoin—”

“
I did!” Anja peeped
up.

“
So I thought, maybe he
is not a bad person, maybe he does not want to play with women and
mess their minds. Maybe he just is incredibly stupid.”

Maria glared at him a while
longer, her chest rising and falling with every breath. Anja leaned
close to her and mumbled something, causing her to shake her head.
Then Maria shoved back her chair and stood up, continuing to
glare.

“
Well you can stop
mailing me, that is for sure. And I don't think Anja will be seeing
you again either.” She poked her. “Right?”

Anja nodded and Maria swept up
her bag.

“
Enjoy your special tea.
And your sad life.”

And then, Maria first and then
Anja, they were gone. Eoin's mouth opened and closed as he watched
them depart. He wondered if anybody sitting nearby had seen the
thrashing to which he'd been subjected. Not that it mattered—he was
at fault, he'd been out-manoeuvred and now both women were exiting
his life. Anja, of the fine lines and hard body. And Maria, of the
fine everything and very sharp tongue.

Hang on though. Wait a second.
He didn't have to let this happen. Why did somebody else always get
to decide? Every damn time, Eoin was the one reacting to other
people, saying yes or no to whatever they suggested. And why?
Didn't he get an opinion? Didn't he get a shot at running his own
life?

He stood up, feeling quite
swirly in the head, and strode out of the cafe. The women were up
ahead, not too far off. He could reach them in a minute. And when
he did, he'd damn well stand up for himself. It wouldn't get him
anywhere, of course, as his bridges were burned. But he was tired
of being shouted at, and being blamed for everything. And just this
time, just for once—

His phone rang. Eoin came to a
halt and swore as he dug it out of his pocket. He looked at the
number and all fight left his body. It was Jenny. He glanced up at
the retreating forms of Anja and Maria and then, with a sigh,
pressed the screen.

“
Hello,” he said,
attempting to sound cheerful.

“
Damien fell,” came
Jenny's strained reply. “And he hurt his head. And he puked and
there was blood and I took him to the, the akuten…”

She stopped talking and broke
into sobs. Panic roared through Eoin. Her English was failing her,
and that meant she was genuinely upset.

“
Where are you?” he
said.

“
Dalens
sjukhus.”

Eoin looked around. With the
phone still pressed to his ear he dashed across the street and into
the path of a slowly moving taxi. He flagged it down with some
frantic waving and clambered into the front seat. The annoyed
driver began to say something but Eoin cut him off and barked the
name of the hospital. The driver blinked, then gave a quick nod and
pulled out into traffic.

With his ex-wife still crying
on the line Eoin began to feel his adrenaline turn sour. He leaned
back and closed his eyes, feeling like an enormous arsehole.
Because while he'd been obsessing about women, sex, and secret
identities, his son had been lying on a hospital bed with sticky
blood pouring from his head.

They weaved through traffic and
Eoin stared out the window, suddenly unable to feel anything.
Because if Damien wasn't okay, if he'd been hurt while Eoin had not
been around to protect him, he'd just never be able to forgive
himself.

Chapter
26

When he tracked them down, Eoin
was red-faced, having charged through the hospital like a demented
bull. He found them in a room containing one bed and two chairs.
Damien was awake, sitting up in the bed, looking quite pleased with
himself.

“
Pappa!” the boy said and
gave a wave, as if everything was fine and dandy. There was a white
compress on his head, held in place by a bandage, but otherwise
Eoin could see nothing wrong with him. He kissed him on the head,
gave a stiff nod to Jenny and sat in the chair beside her. Her eyes
were red, her brown hair was missing clips, and she was very far
from smiling.

“
So how is
he?”

“
Well he fell and banged
his head on the wooden frame on the sandbox. And he had this huge
bump on his head and there was blood and he vomited—”

“
But what did they say?
The doctor or whatever?”

Jenny kept her focus on Damien,
not even looking at Eoin. “Well he has no brain-shaking, or what do
you call it—”

“
Concussion.”

“
Yes, no concussion. The
cut is small, he will be fine.”

Eoin nodded and felt he might
cry from relief. Damien was busy with a toy that looked like a
cross between an elephant and a robot. His t-shirt had a smiling
purple monster on it and Eoin was aware of how small he was, and
how cute he was, and how fast he was changing.

“
Look,” Jenny said, “you
need to be around in case anything goes wrong—”

“
Why, what did they say?
What can go wrong?”

“
Well they didn't say
anything, it's just if it does happen I don't want to take care of
it again.”

Eoin flushed with irritation.
“Look, this is not the place for this—”

“
I think this is the
perfect place, because here you can't run off!”

Eoin stood up. He turned to
Damien. “Back in a minute, kiddo. We'll be right out there outside
in the hall, okay?”

He turned to Jenny and jerked
his head towards the door. “Out there.”

They left Damien engrossed in
the plastic elephant thing and stepped into the hall. “Look,” Eoin
said when the door had closed. “You've got your parents to help and
the doctor said it wasn't serious. Now I have plans to go away, and
I know you're worried, but there’s nothing wrong with him, he's
fine—”

Her mouth tightened. “Oh well I
wouldn't want to ruin your going-away, not for anything as small
and not important as your son—”

He fought the urge to shout at
her and instead lowered his voice until it was soft and sharp.
“Don't give me that 'Eoin doesn’t care' crap. I gave you the damn
house, and the friends, and I let you pick whatever schedule suits
you best. Plus I see the kid four days a fortnight because you
wanted it like that. Now I don't see what the hell the problem is
with me going away and leaving my son in the care of his mother for
a few days, especially when the doctor says it's fine. And it is
fine, I saw that myself!”

“
Eoin, I don't want to
have this discussion now—”

“
Oh, you don't want it
now? So then why did you start it Jenny? Why are you always
starting this damn discussion?”

He paused for breath as two
nurses approached, but he didn't for a moment take his eyes off
her. They passed by and he went on.