Time Changes
Part Nineteen

Peter opened his eyes, it was after nine am, it wasn’t like him to sleep late like this, but then he’d had a late night with Megan, another college professor had organised a party in a hotel in Sydney. They’d danced, drank and eaten into the early hours, then travelled back to the house in a taxi. Despite both having their own room, they’d not slept apart since that first trip to the local bar six weeks earlier.

Looking to his right he saw the bed was empty, Megan had been asleep there when he’d fallen asleep. He wanted to go back to sleep, but his mouth was drier than the Sahara desert, so he climbed to his feet, slid on some boxers, then made for the kitchen. Running the cold tap he filled a large glass, then downed it, before refilling to take back to bed with him.

As he left the kitchen he heard a sound, and walking to the back door he could hear a voice in the distance...Megan. And she was at the furthest end of the veranda on the telephone. He wasn’t one for snooping, but the gentle breeze seemed to be blowing her voice into the house.

                “Of course I miss you! You know that! But things happen...Once I’ve done this we’ll be sorted...He’s got money! I TOLD you that! He lives in some huge house in Switzerland!...I’m telling you darling he, and more importantly his fake baby, are going to help us get that house deposit. Ok?”

Peter stepped back in the house, his heart racing, nausea taking over, but this time not through any misplaced hangover. As he crawled back to bed, he tried to think. She was planning to scam him? Carefree, good for a laugh Megan? When did his judgement become so poor?

She was insatiable, throwing herself at him morning and night, but now that he thought about it, the rest of the time she wasn’t really that bothered. Fortunately, he was ALWAYS careful. And until now he’d not slipped up. He had to find out if there was any truth in what he heard. Then a voice laughed in his head, ‘yeah hang around and commit suicide by sex.’ Nope, he had to keep away from her, and work out a decent excuse to stop having sex with her, without her turning psycho. Because he was now scared, really scared of where this could be heading.  

Alexis wondered what to do for a long time. Suddenly now that she’d parted company with Luiz, she hadn’t heard from Thiago or any of the other’s. For the first time since leaving London she was lonely. Add that to the fact that a huge part of her wanted to call Peter, then she was in real limbo. She was desperate to find out what really happened between him and her father, and she also wanted to hear his name again. But the other part of her couldn’t cope with rejection again, even though he’d declared undying devotion to her a month earlier, she was never confident of anything when it came to Peter Marlow. He wasn’t her Achilles heel, he was far, far more potent, and she was almost safer alone.

Work was hectic, and on one particular day, a hot humid Wednesday, Lex had been called to a house near the clinic by a distraught woman in her early fifties. Gabbling in Portuguese Lex ran behind her with her doctor’s bag, Paolo her translator/security companion was trying to translate as they moved.

                “Her son has been shot. She doesn’t know how or where, she came home to find him.”

                “Shot? Then we need an ambulance.”

He nodded, “but it’s difficult getting one to come this deep into the favela. Whilst she waits she wants any help she can get.”

The boy was younger than her, delirious with pain, blood bumping rapidly from an abdominal wound. Dropping to her knees she tried her best to stem the blood flow. To slide an IV into his emaciated arm, to get fluids at least in to him. The distant sirens were a welcome relief, but she knew she was losing this boy, and when she heard footsteps and looked up her heart sank. Rather than experienced paramedics, a group of armed policemen burst into the building and started searching the house.

                “We need help!” She shouted. Paolo was deep in conversation with the heavy handed policemen, and suddenly one, presumably the leader turned to her.

                “You’re a doctor? From England?”

She nodded, “he’s dying, can you help?”

He shrugged, “the area is on lockdown as one of the gang’s here have had a shoot out with my colleagues. Did you not hear the gunfire?”

Lex shook her head, “the clinic is noisy.”

Paolo added, “we’re the different direction to where the trouble was.” He placed a hand on her shoulder, “we were safe.”

                “It’s not me I’m worried about, it’s this boy. He’s dying.”

Paolo leaned forward and whispered, “his gang shot a policeman. Dead. They will arrest him, but they’re in no rush to help him, and no paramedics will step into this war zone.”

Lex started to panic, “no!”

She was still trying to stop the blood pumping from his body; his mother was crumpling as she watched, and then the police left, uninterested. Lex was devastated; she couldn’t believe that people would treat someone like that. But then there she was in a notoriously dangerous and troubled part of the city.

As she watched the boy take his last few breaths, his mother start wailing like the grieving mother she was, and struggled to hold it together. Then a dark haired girl, maybe eighteen burst into the room and started to scream. Knocking Alexis out the way, the girl grabbed the boy, or rather what remained of him, and held him to her chest, all the time the wails of grief echoed around the house.

Alexis stood watching the scene, unaware of the sticky warm congealing liquid that covered her and her clothing. Paolo placed a hand on her shoulder, “this is her lover, they wanted to marry. But their parents thought they were too young. She’s shouting at his mother for stopping them being together.”

Lex shook her head, “so tragic.”

Paolo led her out, “let’s get back to the clinic if the police can escort us. You need to get cleaned up.”

Three hours later, five hot showers couldn’t take the sensation of the blood from her body. She’d never felt so helpless as a doctor, never seen people give up rather than help, and would never know how to comfort a woman stripped of the love of her life in her teens.

Picking up the phone, she called Peter, it was the realisation that she needed, anything could happen to either of them and she would rather know the truth than never know, even if that broke the last piece of her heart.

With a sigh and a racing heart, she dialled the long distance number to Switzerland. There was no answer, so she tried an hour later; it was late evening with him so she expected him to be home.

As she was about to hang up a woman finally answered, "Hallo?" Her voice was clipped in an almost aggressive manner.

"I was looking for Peter Marlow. Is this his number?"

With a little more warmth to her heavily accented German tone, she replied, "Ah! No. He is away, an extended business trip. I am his assistant. Can I help?"

Suddenly Alexis lost all her confidence, “Oh. It’s ok. I’ll try and call him again. When is he back?"

She was silent for a moment, then announced, "He hasn’t confirmed, it may he a few more weeks. So I’m not sure. I will speak to him soon; can I tell him who called?"

Lex had no intention of leaving him a message, this conversation was a definite here and now thing, tomorrow in the cold light of day she might regret this. “No it’s ok. I’ll speak to him again. Thanks!"

With that she hung up, all the build up and anxiety wasted.

Peter had knuckled down to work. Late nights, early mornings, it all meant he didn’t see much of Megan through working days, and he had plans to travel every weekend. But she wasn’t appreciating his distance, and his avoidance was hardly subtle. Many nights she’d sneak into his room, wrap her arms around him; fortunately, knowing what she was plotting had the opposite effect to Viagra, much to her annoyance. And if he was physically unable to play, then he was safe! For now!

He had another twelve weeks of compulsory time left at the University, and it would be a PR disaster to abandon, but on the other hand it was becoming rather difficult to avoid Megan any longer. She had been so laid back, so keen for fun that he was unable to decide whether her behaviour now, petulant, childish and rather conniving had been there before, and he was just blinded by her enthusiasm, or whether her plan falling apart was beginning to stress her out. His big fear was the unknown; he had no idea what she’d do next. So he started to enquire rather quietly as to whether there was anywhere else to stay.

It was almost a relief when a few weeks after the gruesome discovery, he had to fly to London, he’d promised that he’d attend a special Economics course as a guest speaker, the University knew before he’d accepted the post, and as he boarded the plane and took off, he was SO tempted to not come back!

Time in a five star hotel was a great luxury, and instantly reminded him of the last time he’d been a hotel this great was Stockholm. And BOOM, there was Alexis back in his mind again! He thought about her all the time, every day, and in his heart he felt that he’d betrayed her with Megan, even though he’d left her with the rather young and handsome Luiz. Groaning, he closed his eyes, he had to accept he’d blown it with Alexis. He didn’t blame her either; he’d been a prize fool and a complete bastard to her. Despite that, his work really held no excitement anymore. In the past he’d loved throwing himself into a new project or research idea to take his mind of mundane things, but Alexis was no mundane topic.

After the two day conference came to an end, Peter had twelve hours until he flew back to Australia, and so he decided, in a rather unthinking manner, to visit Oliver. It wasn’t until he stood at the Carmichael front door that he realised that his thoughts of Alexis had drawn him here.

It was an unusually hot September, London was melting, and Peter hadn’t been to London since visiting Henrietta almost two months earlier, and he was completely unprepared for the heat, and the stress that just being at the house caused.

With a groan he rang the bell.

Rosa opened the door, pale and a shadow of the beautiful model-like vivacious woman who normally greeted him so gracefully. The sight shocked him more than he thought possible. “Peter!” Rosa took her hands in his, and he pulled her into a welcoming hug.

                "Rosa! Are you ok?" He held her at arm’s length then sighed.

She smiled weakly, "of course I am. It’s just been such a difficult time. Now come in, come in!"

Following her into the hallway he was filled with a sense of foreboding, "Is everything ok?" he was worried now, something was wrong.

Sighing she shook her head, “Oh! I thought you knew...I presume someone told you."

“Rosa! You’re scaring me, what’s wrong?”

She turned to him, "I’m sorry, I’m just so hectic, so disorganised...Oliver had a huge heart attack a few weeks back, he had to have urgent cardiac surgery. I’ve been so worried, he was very unwell, touch and go for a while...but he’s starting to make a great recovery."

Peter felt sick, all this trauma, and he had had no clue, not an idea. How did that happen? Oliver was like a parent to him, or an uncle, and the last thing he wanted was anything happening to him, but it was the affect on Alexis that came to mind, it was fear for her that was foremost in his mind.

"Oh God! I had no idea. I’ll come back another time, when he’s up to visitors!"

She shook her head, "you know me Peter, I’m a drama queen. Everything hits me harder than everyone else. Oliver will love to see you. He’s been depressed with all this, and then he fell out with Alexis...again. That’s all those pair ever seem to do."

His heart raced at just the sound of her name, he wished that he wasn’t blushing.

"They’re so similar you see," she was blathering as she led him towards the lounge, oblivious to Peter’s torment, talking all the while, "and he struggles to control her...as if anyone could ever control him. And of course neither of them can see it!"

She swung the door open, “go in, say hello. I’ll put the kettle on, coffee ok?”

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