Page 152 of A Night with Damien Spur

What a cheek, said the Voice.Arrogant little bugger.

‘Are you telling me how to write?’

‘No, but this story is much more exciting.’

He certainly takes risks, said the Voice.You could tell him to get lost. But then again there’s nothing like a good teaser.

‘Okay, you’ve sold it to me. I’ll text you my address. I’m in Chelsea, Cheyne Walk. Come tomorrow, 11 a.m.’

***

The young man stood at the door with a satchel on his shoulder. He was a handsome lad. Tall and slender with dark curly hair and a noble face.

But those eyes. Damien knew immediately. Chestnut brown, inquisitive, intense. ‘You can’t be,’ he whispered.

‘What?’ the boy said.

‘You can’t be Laura’s son?’

‘I am,’ the boy said.

There was a buzzing sound in Damien’s ears, which grew louder and louder. He could feel his heartbeat banging against the wall of his chest. He held on to the door as if he were going to fall.

‘Are you okay?’ The boy dropped his satchel and lifted Damien’s arm round his shoulder. ‘Hold on to me. Shall I call an ambulance?’

‘No,’ he panted. ‘I think I’ll be all right. Let’s just go inside.’

Keep calm, said the Voice.Breathe. This is not the time for a heart attack.

Damien could hardly stand. ‘Give me a minute. Sit down and make yourself comfortable.’

He sank onto the rug, legs crossed, and shut his eyes. Focused on his breathing and steadied his mind until, gradually, the pounding in his heart subsided and his body relaxed.

Theo watched, hypnotised. The colour in Damien’s cheeks had returned, and his breath had stilled.

‘That’s better.’ He sighed. ‘Now then.’

He rose to his feet.

‘I made fresh coffee – come.’

Theo followed him into the kitchen.

There was a storm in Damien’s head. Why had Laura shrouded the existence of this lovely young man with a lie? Her son! Alive and well and sitting in front of him. Why? The falling down the stairs, the miscarriage – a lie? Why had she hidden the truth about him?

‘This is for you.’ Theo placed a small brown paper parcel on the table.

Damien undid the wrapping and pulled out a worn blue leather diary. His elegant fingers stroked the cover.

‘I’ve marked the page,’ Theo said.

Go on, open it, whispered the Voice.You have to admit she was always a terrific storyteller, almost better than you are.

11 March 2002

Oh Damien, if only you knew. Here I am in Greece. Will I ever see you again? Andreas doesn’t love me, he treats me as if I am some rare exotic bird. His English toffee, he calls me. I’m a novelty. We’re not right together. Too late. There’s a baby on the way. I’m two months gone. If only I could have told you the truth.

I should have stayed.

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