‘It’s hard, sure it is,’ Derek says. ‘Your momma loved you though. What about your daddy?’
‘He was a cunt,’ Ria sobs with a half-choked laugh. ‘I didn’t mean that . . . Oh god, I didn’t mean that . . .’
‘Hey, it’s fine, sure it is. Those people? In the bar? They good?’
‘Yeah . . . busy . . . Everyone’s so busy . . .’
‘They talk to you?’
‘Try, but . . . I don’t know them . . . My brother is, like . . . He’s this genius and . . . Oh fuck, it hurts, Derek. It hurts so much . . .’
‘Hey, it gets better. My daddy died. It gets better . . .’
Silence for a second. Ben can visualise Ria looking up at him. ‘Your dad?’
‘Yes, ma’am. Iraq. Ten years ago.’
‘He was a soldier?’
‘US Marine.’
‘Oh. Oh, I see . . . Oh, that’s so sad.’
‘He died serving his country. It hurts. Sure it does, but it gets better.’
Miri stiffens. Her face hardening. Ben sees the flash of pain in her eyes, fleeting and quick, but real. Then it’s gone and the mask is once more set in place.
‘My mum died protecting me and Bertie . . . my brother . . .’
‘That’s brave.’
‘She was so scared. The look on her face . . . She was cold . . . She tried stopping them . . .’
‘Them?’
‘Be ready to move,’ Miri murmurs.
‘Some men . . . They came into our house . . .’
‘Like a home invasion?’
‘Er, yes. Yes, like that. Me and Bertie got out, but . . .’
‘Your daddy?’
‘He ran away,’ Ria says softly, weakly, ‘left us . . . He’s a coward. Those people you saw in the bar?’
‘Careful, Ria,’ Ben mutters.
‘They were there, they helped . . . They were so brave . . . They didn’t run . . . They . . .’ She breaks off to sob quietly. ‘They . . . they would have died for Bertie . . .’
‘And you,’ Derek says.
‘No,’ Ria says with kind sorrow in her voice. ‘My brother is special . . .’
‘Can’t we get her mum out?’ Ben asks.
‘You know we can’t.’
‘Can’t we go in after? Take, like, a second to pull her out.’
A blink of an eye. Every situation offers opportunities to plant seeds. If she wins Ben, she wins the team, and she needs all of them to win the game.
‘I admire your morals and honour, Mr Ryder, but it cannot be done.’ She pauses for effect. ‘The British government will torture the mother if she survives, and all of Bertie’s friends, and all of Ria’s friends and everyone that ever knew them. If they don’t, the Russians will, or the Chinese, or the Americans . . .’
‘If the mother survives, we can take her,’ Ben says.
‘This is the level we are at, Ben. We must do whatever it takes. We cannot use the device to go forward past the attack on the house to see the world or how it lies because time is not fixed and it does not matter what happens, but only what we make happen. Do you see? I need you to see. The only thing of importance now is what we do.’
Ben listens to Miri. He listens to Ria crying and Derek giving what words of comfort he can find which right now is better than possibly anyone else in the world. The view of it all opens, and for a brief second the isolated life they have in the bunker vanishes.
‘How do you make a government stop?’ Miri asks, staring at him.
Ben goes to answer, then stops with the surreal notion of such a strange rhetorical question.
‘Listen, you’re a lovely boy, but I want to go home now.’
‘Sure, yeah, sure, Ria. I’ll walk you home.’
‘No, it’s fine. Honestly.’
‘It’s not safe here. I’ll walk you back . . . Hey, you got money. I’ll call a cab.’
‘Honestly, it’s fine. I think my, er . . . well, the people at the bar, they’ll be nearby . . . Miri will be anyway.’
‘Miri?’
‘The older lady. She’s amazing. Like, so cold and brutal, but . . . She’ll be near here waiting.’
‘She’s smarter than we thought,’ Ben whispers.
‘Will I see you again? When do you go?’
‘I’m not sure.’
‘I’d like to see you again. Can we email? You on Facebook? Hey, gimme your number and . . .’
‘I don’t have a phone. We lost it in the . . . the thing . . . and I haven’t replaced it yet.’
‘Oh, damn, I got an old phone. You want it?’
‘What’s your name? I’ll find you on Facebook.’
‘Derek Collins. Milwaukee. I finish work tomorrow at six if . . . you know . . .’
‘I’ll try. I’ll ask Miri if . . . maybe . . . We’ve got a lot to do, but I will try.’
‘You’d better say yes,’ Ben whispers, looking at Miri. ‘If you bloody don’t, I’ll tell her she can go.’
‘What’s your name?’
‘Ria.’
‘No, your last name . . .’
‘Oh, er, gosh, sorry, had a bit to drink . . . Calshott. Ria Calshott.’
Ben snorts a laugh. Miri deigns to twitch the corners of her lips.
They listen to the kisses goodbye, which grow into heavy breathing and even heavier petting. Ben leans against the wall. Miri stares at the wall opposite.
‘You are so beautiful,’ Derek whispers.
‘You’re lovely too,’ Ria whispers back.
Finally, they hear the door open, but then more kissing comes. The stairs creak. More kissing. They get to the ground floor inside the building and stop to kiss. They reach the street door and kiss. Ben hums to himself. Miri thinks forward to tomorrow and what she has to do.
‘Come see me tomorrow,’ Derek says as the street door finally opens.
‘I’ll try, promise . . .’
Ria walks out and looks left, looks right, then goes back to kiss him again before pushing him back in the door and telling him to go to bed. She finally walks out across the road, peering round before spotting the mouth of the alley. She hesitates, as though unsure, then heads for it.
‘Miri?’
‘Here,’ Miri says, shutting the phone down and stepping out from the shadows.
‘Hey,’ Ben says, moving out.
Ria looks at them, her face showing fleeting emotions one after the other.
‘We just wanted to make sure you were okay,’ Ben says. ‘Everything alright?’
‘Yep,’ Ria says simply. ‘He’s a nice man.’
Ben nods. He wants to tell her Derek is a very nice man and that men like that don’t grow on trees, and that in actual fact he wants to walk over and shake his bloody hand for being such a decent human being. But he doesn’t. He smiles instead and walks out to offer his arm. ‘Walk you home, m’lady?’
‘Thanks,’ she says, smiling shyly, hesitant at looping her arm through his. He is Ben Ryder after all. ‘He asked my name,’ she says, taking his arm. ‘I said Ria Calshott. Was that okay? I said I lost my phone too . . .’
‘It’s fine,’ Ben says, leading her back behind Miri. ‘Absolutely fine. You want to see him again?’
‘Um, he, er . . . Well, he said he finishes work at six tomorrow, but I’ll ask Miri. I said we’re busy . . . but I didn’t say anything about the . . . the thing or . . . anything. I promise.’
‘Oh,’ Ben says, as though taking it all in and thinking. ‘Well, he seemed a good lad, you know, just from meeting him briefly in the bar. So, yeah, sure, why not? Maybe watch a movie or something with him. Do you good to get out of the bunker a bit.’
‘He is nice, and he has a huge . . .’