Page 21 of Companion Required

Chapter Ten

Kieran

3:10 a.m.

Kieran sat up in bed, wide awake, hands clasped behind his neck, listening to the gentle hum of the air conditioner and the distant but constant night-time sizzle of cicadas from outside. Just as he’d predicted, he had plunged into a deep sleep the moment his head hit the pillow, but found himself waking fresh as a snowflake a few hours later. He’d already checked his phone, read and answered his messages and emails, had even tried Kennedy’s suggestion and watched television, but nothing really caught his attention.

Of course, he had texted Cole and Jules about the past twenty-four hours. The flight—he had kept the menu as a souvenir—the amazing house Kennedy’s parents lived in with five bedrooms with its own private swimming pool, and the amazing banquet they’d served up to welcome them. Even though they seemed formal with each other, the family had been friendly and civil to him. So much so that Kennedy’s earlier belittling of his parents felt brutal and unwarranted. But then, what did he know? Maybe they were putting on a show for his sake.

Eventually he got up, went to the window and pulled aside one of the heavy blinds. Below, lights illuminated the pool. Would he disturb anyone if he got up and had a swim? Kennedy’s parents’ bedroom stood at the far end of the house, while Kennedy’s own bedroom was next to them.

What the hell, he thought.Who would even know?

In the bathroom, he squeezed back into his damp swimming shorts and grabbed one of the plump white bath towels. With the addition of a plain white tee and flip-flops, he collected his laptop and headphones on the way out and made his way quietly back to the pool.

For half an hour, he swam freestyle up and down without stopping, enjoying the freedom, the release of energy and the water cooling and caressing his skin. When he finally stopped, panting heavily, he hauled his dripping body out, ready to dry himself and relax alone at the small table where he’d left his things.

Except someone else was sitting there, puffing blue smoke into the night air.

“When I mentioned an early morning swim,” said Jefferson Grey, with good humour, “I was thinking more along the lines of six or seven in the morning. Couldn’t sleep, young man?”

“What can I say?” said Kieran, towelling his hair. “Turns out jet lag is a real thing. So I thought I’d use the time to exercise. What’s kept you awake?”

“Insomnia. Comes with old age, I’m afraid. And I heard someone swimming. Either my son or you, I figured. So here I am.” Jeff blew a cloud of smoke into the air and wiggled his cigar. “Which also gives me the opportunity to smoke one of these babies without being badgered. Do you smoke?”

“I don’t,” said Kieran, taking a seat at the table. “Well, actually I did once—cigarettes—but label myself a non-smoker now. Sometimes I have the occasional puff—if I’m stressed. Not very often. Don’t say anything to Kennedy. He thinks I’ve never smoked.”

“You’ve only just met. I’m sure there’s a lot you don’t know about each other.”

“I know he can be very particular.”

“Just like his mother,” said Jeff, nodding and flicking ash into a plastic saucer. “You know, you’re a lot different from Patrick.”

Kieran sat back then, wanting to take advantage of the opportunity.

“Kennedy doesn’t talk about him. What was he like?”

Jeff sat quietly for a moment. He appeared to be considering Kieran’s question.

“Did Kennedy tell you what I used to do for a living?”

“You worked for the British High Commission.”

“For over forty years. And, let me tell you, in all that time thousands of souls passed through our offices. Not only did we have dignitaries, but also people from all walks of life, and from all nations. Something my wife will tell you about me—one of the nicer things—is my ability to sum up a person’s character. Within a short space of time, I can tell whether someone is open, honest and trustworthy. She calls it intuition, but I think it’s more a skill one builds over the years working as a public servant. Patrick was—he came across as—sullen and distant. Both times he stayed here, he barely left his room. If we managed to get a ‘good morning’ out of him over breakfast, it became a cause for celebration. Not once did he thank us for our hospitality, the way you did when I met you at the airport yesterday. But they lived together, had known each other for nine years, so we assumed they were content. Their last time here, he and Kennedy argued constantly. Maybe the writing was on the wall. What I’m trying to say is, when they were here I sensed no happiness between them. I’m sure Kennedy told you we weren’t exactly thrilled with our son’s lifestyle choice, but parents still want to see their children end up happy. Five years ago, just after they broke up, Kennedy came here alone. He never told us exactly what happened between them, but I could tell that my son was changed, had put up a wall around himself. I can only assume the break-up did that to him. The whole week he was here, I don’t remember seeing him smile once, let alone laugh.”

“He laughs now. Usually at me. He has a pretty cool sense of humour.”Key West, indeed, thought Kieran, remembering and smirking.

“He’s different with you.”

“Is he?” Why did that observation send a small thrill through Kieran? “How do you mean?”

“Calmer. As though he has less to prove. As though he can trust you, I suppose.”

Kieran deflated. Of course Kennedy would be calmer, Kieran was being paid to be there, a little snippet he would definitelynotshare with Jefferson.

“And I get the impression you like him, too,” added Jeff.

“I admire him.”

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