Proserpina
It had been a month since our last, violent meeting, and I had not set eyes on Lucien since.
We, the children and I, never went down if there was a hint of guests arriving. Instead, we hid away like ghosts, staying upstairs until Beatrice appeared to announce that the coast was clear.
The man I had married never came to see us, the twins and I. But his friend, James Schwartz, often turned up, to stay for hours, playing with the kids, quite happy to be in his shirt sleeves, becoming a horse, a donkey, or whatever the kids wished him to be. He would make them laugh as he sat on the floor of the nursery, or carry them around on his strong shoulders, whooping and shouting, making them laugh. I saw the gentleness, the tenderness in his face as he watched my children, and I knew that he was a good man with a tragic story.
At first, I kept my distance, and apart from an occasional remark, he did not seem to want to talk to me. But on more than one occasion, I caught his green eyes on me, speculative and with a hint of something that made me feel skitterish. Not threatening, but a gentle adoration that made me feel restless.
Gradually, I began to open up to him, to laugh at his ridiculous jokes, and to enjoy his lavish compliments as he sat down to lunch on more than one occasion. Cooking up a storm had been my way of coping initially, but soon, I realised that everyone relished the food I prepared and soon, I had taken over the kitchen, planning and executing the meals.
My wardrobe had also been mysteriously revamped. Beatrice had brought in boxes of dresses and skirts from well-known designers one morning soon after that disastrous day. Tight-lipped with disapproval, she had left with my old, familiar lounging outfits, the shorts and the Tees that I so loved. In her wisdom, she knew that it was even worse than being forced to stay all day long, for months on end in a large house.
A prisoner in prison uniform, I thought bitterly. Not that the clothes were ugly and ill-fitting; on the contrary, they were definitely expensive and the colours suited me, rich, vibrant hues that set off my brown hair and eyes, making me look good, I thought glumly.
But for whose sake, I asked myself forlornly.
Now I only wore flowing peasant skirts and blouses that moulded my body effectively or pretty dresses that floated around me as I moved. They were beautiful no doubt about that; they were also expensive and I recognised the labels from my scanty idea about the latest trends in fashion. Ria watched me in awe as I chose my clothes every day.
'Mumma, now you look like a princess,' she breathed one morning and I burst out laughing and then scooping her up I kissed the pert little nose.
The clothes were beautiful; what annoyed me was the fact that Lucien had taken it upon himself to decide how his doll should be dressed, I fumed.
Lucien had also appointed a woman named Sita Kumar, a pretty, slim woman, to take care of the children. It baffled me; we already had three nurses and Beatrice at our beck and call. Why had he appointed this slight woman with the large doe eyes and shy smile?
I had also begun to work.
It began as a way of helping old Professor Sonne, who had taken the paper on Buddhist studies when I was at University. Along with my law studies, I had become interested in his lectures which were full of interesting facts. And when he happened to call me one evening, asking if I would help him with a project, I had jumped at the chance, elated.
Lucien had not responded to my message informing him of what I was doing and shrugging my shoulders, I had thought bitterly,
'If it had been anything to do with the S*X word, he would have been here in a flash. "
What began as a way of staying engaged, became a full-fledged job in a month's time for the Professor, old and absent-minded as he was, was pleased with all the documentation I did for him. Of course, I worked from him, but the results were good.
Soon, the old man urged me to join a course and become his full-time assistant.
Buoyed with the appreciation I was getting at my workplace, I had taken to sitting up late into the nights, thumping away on the new laptop that had also mysteriously appeared one morning, no questions asked. Sometimes I fell asleep with the lights on in my room, the laptop beside me, too exhausted to do anything more than turn around and fall into a deep, dreamless sleep. Very often, I would come awake and see to my surprise that Beatrice or Sita had come in while I was asleep and turned off the lights and covered me with my quilt.
***
Lucien
It had been weeks since Lucien had gone home but the thoughts of his wife and family were uppermost. Broodingly, he looked at the phone, wondering if he should call HER. If nothing, to hear her melodious. throaty voice, he thought and groaned.
"F*ck sake,' he thought, furious with himself and swearing loudly,' I'm behaving like a f*cking schoolboy in love.'
These days he slept at the townhouse, drinking himself to a daze but always alone. He had dispensed of the women after his wife's accusation and her hurt had seeped into his mind.
The awareness that Dmitri was out there, had come as a shock, for the old fox had turned out to be closer to home than Lucien had ever imagined.
That evening, the phone on his desk pinged and he frowned.
The number was an unfamiliar one but since the line was one he used for his work purposes, he checked the message and froze.
An attachment appeared.
It was a long shot of Proserpina in the garden with the children. She had been speaking to the twins who were beside her; little Ria with her arms akimbo, obviously arguing, Piers was standing beside them, looking up at his mother. It had been taken by a camera that was positioned far away and he felt a chill race up his spine as he read the message accompanying it.
You have a beautiful family; a lovely wife, lovely children.
Dmitri had reached his home.
***
Proserpina
Sita Kumar was a new addition to our household. The twins now had a teacher- a governess who had also been appointed by my husband. It was Schwartz's idea and he had introduced me to the woman, a cheerful, spunky young woman named Sita Kumar. She was from India, she explained and was a couple of years older than me. Her dark hair fell around her shoulders and she was agile and swift in her movements.
I did not know if she had been appointed because Lucien wanted to avoid having sex toys being lobbed at his guests but her presence was not objectionable. With her cheerful demeanour and down-to-earth remarks, we soon got along like a house on fire. She was always around, although she had no formal degree in teaching or experience in looking after kids. In fact, she was more like a companion to me.
Idly, I wondered why Lucien had employed her but put the thought out of my head soon enough as Piers dashed across me, snivelling as he was receiving the brunt of Ria's pranks.
Sita carried a torch around for Schwartz, as I soon discovered much to my amusement.
She had dimpled and dropped her eyes when I asked once how she had met Schwartz. And I guessed that she was more than simply fond of the handsome man who often turned up at our dinner table, his buffoonery and light-heartedness having endeared him to my twins.
***
Lucien
Lucien moved swiftly. He knew that it was impossible to keep the family indoors; Proserpina would probably hit the roof, his lips twitched as he imagined her reaction. She could be soft and submissive but the moment one messed with her, she blew up like a fuse!
Schwartz suggested a woman who had been in the Army and had left recently; a trained commando.
When Lucien met Sita Kumar, her diminutive figure and appearance bothered him. That was until he read the brief he had managed to get about her exploits.
A trained assassin, she had served in Afghanistan for a while.
Immediately, he sent her to his home under the guise of a teacher companion.
Knowing his trusting wife, he guessed that she would not suspect anything.
He wanted his family safe; he also wanted Proserpina to remain calm. He did not want her upset.
Later, as he ran his hands through his thick greying hair, he thought fleetingly that she had begun to change him; he was now discovering that he was capable of caring.
He sighed. After the disappearance of little Bet, his half-sister, he had become hard-hearted, unwilling to care, unwilling to love. He had killed a man to save her from the clutches of a monster who had raped her; but when he emerged from juvenile prison, he found she had vanished...
Youthful Proserpina had walked into his life with stars in her eyes, with her large and loving heart, and her trust in him and he had damaged her, hurt her.
The realisation ate into him.
Yet she had changed him.
She was making him a better man.
But the knowledge that Dmitri's minions had managed to circle around his security men and taken a snap made him furious and frightened for his family. Now he feared for his woman and his children...