Saints and Sinners

“Cheerio”, says Jessica with a cheeky smile, “behave yourself and don't do anything I wouldn't do.”

She is off to the ski slopes with Klaus, her instructor, and leaves the two 'old birds' to converse in peace.

“She has the measure of me”, sighs Lottie, “I am not a saint, Jeremy.”

“Despite the fact that our marriage was one of convenience, Hugo was a kind, affectionate husband but not passionate”, she goes on, “and perhaps it was inevitable that a sensual person like me should succumb to the temptation of an occasional fling. If you remember, I nearly seduced you during my visit to London.”

I wonder if she expects a quid pro quo for her candid revelation; that I should reciprocate by disclosing my peccadilloes.

I prevaricate but start talking about my past in vague terms. About the time of my father death and of his will, of which I was not the only beneficiary.

“My older brother Justin inherited the bulk of the estate that included a palatial house in the Shires. He was an army officer who was sent to Afghanistan in 1998 where he met Francesca, a war photographer whom he married.

They had a narrow escape during a missile attack carried out by the US in the hunt for Osama bin Laden but on their return to England my brother suffered from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

He developed a religious obsession and expected divine retribution for being so rich and neglecting the poor. That he should become a missionary was for him the only solution. He left everyone and everything behind and sailed to Africa to fulfil his mission.

It was a couple of months later that a distraught Francesca knocked at my door with the worrying news that the ship in which Justin was travelling was suspected to have been hijacked by Somali pirates.

My brother had disappeared without trace but no ransom demand was ever received.

In the wake of this distressing event Francesca and I found solace in each other arms for one night only.

What astonished me, though, was to learn that her husband had made love to her the night before his desertion.”

“When she became pregnant, it was a natural assumption that the child was his”, I say, “and she never admitted to the contrary.”

“But you had doubts...”

I see that Lottie is on a fishing expedition and, ignoring her speculation, I continue.

“There was no more intimacy between us, we were just good friends and we helped each other out in bringing up the baby, with the aid of a nanny.”

“It was in 2003 that disaster struck. Convinced that Jessica was in safe hands with me and the nanny, she accepted an assignment to go to Baghdad to cover the Iraqi war. She was a victim of the 'shock and awe' bombardment that the US and its allies launched on the capital.”

“As I was the child's next of kin, I became her guardian.”

© Luigi Pagano 2020

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