#teninchfic

In her job, she often did in one day what others did in three. In the last four days, she had tested the Aquatonic seawater therapeutic pool, four of the five restaurants, the art gallery and shopping arcade, the yoga class, the Canang Ketupat demonstration, the Balinese dancing course, the cycling tour, the sailboat tour and the Segway tour. All the while looking into the eco-tourism aspect of things, she’d noticed the solar panels and the reusable straws in drink, but she wanted to dig deeper. She still had to check on the botanical garden, the activities for kids, the cooking school, the gym, the martini bar, ballrooms and, worse of all, the golf course. Only three days left to do all that.

Perhaps it was time to check out the rooftop bar as well.

A young man worked under the hut-like awning of the bar. He spoke basic English. As he prepared her cocktail, she chatted with him, asking about the band on his t-shirt and his hobbies. But soon, her gaze drifted away from the bartender and the beautiful beach vista, to the island itself, beyond the resort. Too far off for details, it appeared as a chaotic array of colourful houses under palm trees, quivering in the heat like a mirage. The Mahal Kita resort was nothing short of paradise, but her feet itched to explore the rest of the island.

She asked the bartender for recommendations, but he only mentioned activities offered by the resort. When Hannah insisted she wanted to see the town, he laughed, something she’d learned meant “no” here. She questioned him further and found out he wasn’t even from Pulau Kesuma and neither were his nearest coworkers. The employees lived in a dormitory on the premise and left the island on their days off.

As nicely as possible, Hannah insisted to speak to a local person to answer her questions. At last, a maid was waved over. She drew a crude map of the town with indications to the market and a beach. When she expanded her drawing to the west side of the island, the bartender stopped her with such vehemence that both Hannah and the maid started.

“No, no. No west. Dangerous,” he said.

The two Indonesian exchanged a cold glance Hannah couldn’t decipher.

“Okay, then I’ll be careful. Thank you…” She eyed their name tags. “Budi and Alya.” She tipped them both generously.

The hotel’s main entrance opened directly on the jetty where the ferry from Jakarta docked. With water on either side, there was nowhere else to go, so Hannah spent a good twenty minutes looking for another exit leading to the town.

“This is ridiculous,” she muttered to herself.

All the service doors required I.D. cards. Finally, she spotted a kitchen helper and asked him for a light for her cigarette, she offered him one in exchange. She’d found it was always a good way to strike up a conversation with a stranger in a foreign country. Or, in this case, to ask for a favour. The kitchen helper opened a service door and they sneaked out of the hotel.

Hannah felt like Alice stepping through the looking glass. Out of the conditioned and, she now realized, perfumed air of the resort, heat and a hundred scents assailed her: dusty earth, petrol from the old motorbikes used by the locals, and the sweet green fragrance of flowers that gave the island its name, Kesuma. A goat bleated. A bike zoomed past her. And wanderlust stirred butterflies in her stomach.

She donned a large, floppy sun hat and set out to explore new grounds.

*

“Let me the hell out of here,” Hardy said to a security guard.

Five minutes and he had already run out of patience with this place. Jet lag stretched like a tight rubber band around his head. He had a meeting in town with Ellie and her partner, but couldn’t figure out how to get out of the hotel.

He’d arrived late last night, and the ferry took him straight to the resort. Aware of the scam, he hated giving the resort his money, but he had to be inside to investigate.

The security guard let him out a service door and vaguely indicated the direction of the market.

Hardy walked fast. His previous trips to other parts of Indonesia and Ellie’s instructions helped him navigate the unknown town.

The messenger bag holding his camera equipment bumped against his hip with every step, a sensation he’d grown accustomed to. Camera in hands, he was on the lookout for signs of the tourism industry already affecting the local population. On a street corner, a young woman, barely able to meet his eyes, lowered her dress and bra strap. Anger boiled in his stomach. He averted his eyes.

Along the way, he snapped pictures, almost aimlessly: crumbling houses, drunk men, working children. None of it exactly what he needed.

He knew he’d found what he he’d been looking for when he saw it: fishing gear propped against a wall. The composition was perfect: the sun shone on the shiny reels and the hooks dug into dry, cracked soil. The contrast between the fairly new equipment and the dust and spider webs covering it told a story of wasted potential. He took many pictures from different angles.

*

Hannah made her way toward the market as best as she could given the lack of street signs. She turned onto an unpaved narrow street. Small wooden houses crouched between tall palm trees and laundry hung to dry above her head. Women squatted in front of small brick fire places, cooking on a grill set directly over the flames. Chicken pecked around them. Bare-feet children, with dry snot under their noses, played with rusty bottle caps.

It reminded her of a trip to Thailand four years ago. She was no less shocked, and yet fascinated, that people still lived like that. But this time, the nearness of a luxurious resort accentuated her discomfort. And Hannah thought she’d rather be in Europe or North America where poverty wasn’t so confronting.

She felt the eyes of every local on her, they weren’t used to tourists yet. She had only seen one other white person, a weird bloke taking multiple pictures of fishing rods. Some children hid behind their mothers, others called her “Bule!” a slang word for white foreigner. But she never felt threatened or shunned, most people she came across smiled at her in the friendliest manner. She returned the greetings but didn’t engage further. There was always that push and pull within her, between keeping her distance from people and yet wanting to know them.

A girl of about nine with fierce dark eyes and braids approached her and touched her arm. Hannah smiled though she was ambivalent. She wasn’t naturally drawn to children but it would make cute pictures and a good story for her blog. As soon as the thought crossed her mind, Hannah resented it.

“Where can I eat?” Hannah asked the child, miming the action.

Instantly, other children came to her, five of them, with dimpled cheeks and second-hand superhero t-shirts. They all giggled. The eldest little girl, the one who had approached her first, whistled loudly and they all followed her. Hannah had no idea where they were taking her.

Shrubs lined the street and a little boy picked a fruit and handed it to her. It was a small, pinkish ball with green hair. She scrunched up her nose at it and waited until the children had eaten theirs to make sure it wasn’t a joke. A boy, no more than seven, took a knife out of his pocket and expertly sliced open the fruit for her. Inside was a milky white ball, similar to lychees. As she tasted the fruit, her brain looked for the right words to describe the refreshing, mild sweetness of it to her readers.

The children gave her more fruits, and she thanked them in Indonesian, “Terima kasih.”

“Rambutan,” he said.

“Rambutan?” she repeated.

He pulled on his black hair, “rambut,” he said. Then on the hair of the fruits, “rambutan.”

She snapped some photos of them and the fruits with her mobile phone. They all pressed around her, wanting to see the result on the screen. The photoshoot lasted longer than she’d intended. An adult passing by yelled something along the line of “stop pestering her”, and the kids scampered away. All of them except the little girl that had first approached her. In fact, she looked unimpressed by the adult. Hannah felt she’d found a kindred spirit in this kid.

They reached a sort of town square, with a mosque and a park where a group of men had gathered. A tin roof held up by hand-carved columns housed the market place. Hannah marveled at… everything. Behind makeshift stalls, men shouted prices for rice noodles and fruits. On the ground, large, shallow baskets displayed grains and legumes. An eyeless pig face, hung like a mask above a meat stand. Underneath, a bored woman wearing a headscarf chased flies away with a palm leaf.

The whole place was alive with chatter but a tension brewed underneath. Something was amiss.

Hannah wanted to go inside the market, but the little girl guided her elsewhere.

On a street corner, many local people queued. Before them, an old woman, at least eighty years old, hunched-back and sun-spotted, served food to them. Old, misshapen pans and plastic buckets surrounded her. Her knobbly hands efficiently wielded a string to slice through a green, cylindrical fruit. She then dropped handfuls of shredded coconut, balls of sesame seeds, and what looked like tiny pancakes onto a folded banana leaf. She covered carelessly the whole thing with a ladleful of brown syrup. It looked nothing like the “authentic and locally-sourced” food served at the hotel. And it was certainly less hygienic. But the scents— and her own sense of adventure— were too enticing to resist. She’ll try anything once.

*

Hardy spotted Ellie across the road, waving at him to come over. Her youngest son was with her.

“Hiya! Sorry for making you walk all the way here, we’re not allowed near the resort anymore.”

She gave him that grin of hers, with her small upper teeth pushing forward.

They’d first worked closely together in Bangladesh, after a sweatshop collapsed and killed over one thousand workers. She was a journalist for BBC World. It was her first time covering such a tragedy. Despite a rocky start, they’d developed something like a friendship, but it was hard to keep in touch when they both worked around the world. Last he’d heard of her, her husband had been arrested for murder

“You look well,” Hardy said.

It was an understatement. Her hair had grown, and her loose white linen shirt accentuated the healthy bronze glow of her skin. She seemed happier than he expected given the circumstances.

Beside Ellie stood a short man with a young, russet face, smooth skin safe for a little patch of hair under his bottom lip. He wore a suit despite the heat. He shook Hardy’s hand with nervous enthusiasm and introduced himself as Kadek Suardika Rahi.

They sat on the terrace of a restaurant. An outsider wouldn’t know this was a place of business: a dozen makeshift stools under an awning made from old vinyl advertising banners. In the heat, a rubber-y scent emanated from it.

Hardy was eager to learn more about the scandalous practices of the Mahal Kita Resort, but cultural norms demanded a beverage and small talk first. He opted for a cold drink made with coconut milk rather than the local variation on Java coffee.

“I met Kadek when I was covering the tsunami,” Ellie explained. “He was a doctor in England, but when he saw what was happening in his country, he decided to come back and help his people.”

“And Ellie helped make sure the natural disaster was not forgotten by the international community.”

They shared a smile and so much seemed to pass between them, reminiscence and adoration. And Hardy was surprised to feel a pinch in his heart, a longing for that kind of intimate language without words.

Hardy cleared his throat, suddenly uncomfortable. “So you live here now?”

“Not on Pulau Kesuma, no, not all the time. We live in Jakarta. Tom attends an international school there. Kadek’s whole family is here, though.”

She’d quit her job and now taught journalism at the university on top of helping local newspapers and free speech organizations.

“How’s your daughter?” Ellie asked.

“She’ll start uni next fall.”

He skimmed over the strained relationship with Daisy. He’d taken all the blame for the divorce, and rightly so, he had been away too often. His daughter had once accused him of caring more about children in Africa than about her.

A flash of blond hair and pale skin caught his eye. He scoffed at a young woman in too short shorts and a large hat. She didn’t even notice her selfie stick was in the way of a man and his cow. “Parasite,” he muttered. As far as he was concerned, these tourists were as guilty as the corporation who owned the resort. They should educate themselves and stop encouraging unethical tourism.

Kadek related to him what he’d heard from his family and other local residents. While the people were still struggling with the physical and psychological damage of the tsunami, foreign investors took advantage of the chaos to seize the land. Masked men, armed with machine guns, forcefully evicted the families. They built an electric fence around 400 acres of land. The land acquisition extended into adjoining bodies of water thus denying access to fishing grounds.

“It’s not just about the loss of income,” Kadek insisted, “we are a fishing people. This is our traditional way of life. Now we can be charged with illegal trespassing! On our own land!”

“What about the government?” Hardy asked though he had little illusion as to their role in this.

“The Navy helped the foreign investors,” Ellie answered. “At first we thought it was just a small part of the Navy gone rogue for profit. But when we petitioned the authorities for help we were shut down. They’re bloody shareholders.”

“Ellie received threats after she wrote about it in the Jakarta Post,” Kadek added, putting a protective arm around her shoulders.

The blatant abuse of power made Hardy’s skin crawl.

“Do you have any proof of all this?” he asked.

“Only what people told us. The security guards at the resort know us. We can’t go anywhere near. They don’t like us sniffing around. That’s why we need you.”

Hardy, Ellie and Kadek spent the afternoon touring the island. They talked to evicted families and angry fishermen. Hardy documented the destruction, but the resort people were good at covering their tracks, most of it could be chalked up to the tsunami.

One thing that kept coming back was talk of discolored water that poisoned the mangrove, dead fish drifted to the village like bad omens. No one knew where it was coming from, but a portion of the west side was completely off limits, enclosed by an electric fence and guarded by armed men. Hardy couldn’t risk antagonizing them. Not yet, at least.

He ate supper with Kadek’s parents who welcomed him like a member of the family. He admired how Ellie had adapted and built a new life, a new family, for herself.

When the sun started to set, he left the Rahi family with a promise to help. Wherever he went, he met people who had almost nothing yet demonstrated such generosity. It both soothed him and stoked his drive for justice. And so, he headed back to the hotel to investigate under the cover of darkness.

*

Hannah stepped out of the shower and grabbed the complimentary bathrobe. She noticed its softness. One look at the tag informed her it was made of organic bamboo fibers. She made a mental note to mention it in her article along with the nice mango shower gel that now perfumed the steamy bathroom. These were important details. Her readers expected to learn everything about a hotel, including the quality of the clientele which is why there was a German man in her bedroom. Presently, she caught him hastily pulling up his trousers to sneak out. Shame passed quickly over his handsome face.

“Maybe we can get a drink tomorrow night?” he said.

“Yeah, maybe.”

She was relieved he was leaving on his own so she wouldn’t have to get rid of him with increasingly unsubtle hints. It occurred to her after that he might be here with his wife and family.

She closed the door behind him and fell back on the bed. The room had a high, peaked ceiling made of dark wood and the dim light didn’t reach all the way up it. It looked like a void opening above her, growing as the evening turned darker.

Hannah reached for her phone. She sent Ben a text message, but doubted he would answer; he was sulking. She turned to social media. She posted a picture of the food bought in the market asking “what is this?”. She added a line about the cooking class she would take tomorrow and tagged the resort. Notifications popped up, but somehow only added to the oppressing emptiness growing in her chest. She dismissed the feeling as nothing more than her unsatisfactory hook up. The man had a nice body that promised more pleasure than it had delivered, leaving her keyed up.

Her hand ventured between her thighs. There was nothing but the sea outside her open windows, so she discarded the bathrobe, let the warm night air caress her body and set out to finish what that man had started.

“Hmm, much better,” she sighed after.

She cleaned up and wrapped a long sarong under her arms. Time to get back to work.

With her trusty Moleskin notebook in hand, she sat on the doorstep. A couple of rooms to her left, people were laughing and splashing around, but the sound of the surf, just a few meters ahead, interested her more.

Her pen moved fluidly across the paper, and she found herself writing about that little girl and the old woman serving food. She wondered about their paths in life, about one’s past and the other’s future. How different they were from her own life. She knew none of it would make it into her article, Elite Travelers wasn’t interested in that, but she felt compelled to put her complex feelings into words.

A flash of light disturbed her focus, followed by shutter sounds. She jerked up and squinted through the darkness.

In the bushes, a man was taking pictures of her. How long had he been there? Had he seen her masturbate?

“What the fuck are you doing?”

The man ignored her and kept taking pictures.

“Oi! Stop that, you perv!”

“Wha’? Get back in your room, ma’am.”

She hadn’t expected to hear a Scottish accent. He stepped closer, into the pool of light from her room. She recognized him from earlier in the village.

“Are you stalking me?” He looked at her like she was nuts. “Go away or I’ll call security.”

“Just get back inside. I’m a photojournalist.”

“What? For Playboy? Go. Away.”

“I can’t, I need—”

“That’s it, I’m calling security.” She turned to head back inside her room.

“For god’s sake. Wait!” He climbed the steps up to her. “The hotel management can’t know about this… I’m investigating the resort. Look.”

He showed her the pictures he’d taken: foundations and more brick work, the beach and swamps, portraits of local people. None of her. It was a relief (although having a stalker would be kind of flattering).

She took a good look at him: with his canvas shirt, sleeves rolled up, and scruffy cheeks, he looked overworked rather like a relaxed tourist. There was something about his stance, the hands on his hips, the unwavering gaze on her, an air of detached authority that made her trust him.

“Alright.”

“Good. So, you get back in there and let me do my work,” he said.

“Hold on, I’m a journalist too.”

He quirked an eyebrow, skeptically.

“I am. What are you investigating?”

With more probing—and threatening— he revealed, in vague terms, he was interested in the environmental impacts of the resort.

“What about what’s going on the west side of the island?” she asked.

He perked up at this— as much as this man could perk up. “You’ve seen something?”

“Well, I went sailboating— ”

He scoffed.

“What’s wrong with sailboats?”

“Local fishermen were banned from their own ancestral fishing grounds so you could go on a bloody sailboat. That’s what’s wrong with it.”

The accusation stung. Hannah took a step back. “And that’s my fault, is it? You know, sharks almost went extinct here because of the fishermen.”

He didn’t reply, though she had the feeling it wasn’t because she’d won the argument. He obviously knew more than he let on. As annoying as he was, she wanted to know more too.

She invited him in her room, to show him something she’d discovered on her photos. During the sailing excursion, Hannah had spotted what seemed like a lovely secluded beach. However, when she asked about it to the captain, he immediately veered the boat away. That beach was on the west side of the island, the one she’d been warned against this morning.

She handed him her phone, but he frowned at the selfie displayed.

“No, look closer, you muppet, in the background.”

She zoomed in. There was a high fence, partly covered with vegetation, and what looked almost like a bunker.

“Maybe there’s another way in,” the photographer mumbled. “There are rumors about— oh...”

He’d swiped too far and reached a picture of Hannah in a rather revealing bikini. She tittered at his blush. He shoved the phone back in her hands with a scowl. He considered her for a moment. His sharp gaze openly scanned her, and Hannah became very aware that she was wearing only a sarong.

“Alright,” he said, having come to some conclusion. “Could you take me there?”

“Yes,” she replied with more confidence than she felt.

Hannah went to the bathroom to put on a pair of shorts and a white t-shirt. She felt like she’d drank too much coffee. She was excited by the secretive nature of the investigation and the shared complicity with this photographer.

She slipped her phone and keycard in her back pockets, and they headed out through the patio door.

“I’m Hannah Baxter, by the way.”

“Hardy.” They shook hands. “C’mon, Baxter, stop withering.”

#

Chapter 2: Indonesia, summer (cont’d)

Chapter Eight

“Daisy’s coming to stay this weekend,” Alec said as he and Hannah ate take away at his flat. He’d gotten caught up questioning a witness, and Hannah knew he’d forget to eat until it was too late to really do anything, so she’d brought curry over once she knew he was home.

“Oh?” Hannah’s heart thumped hard in her chest. Alec talked about Daisy freely, clearly a proud and caring father, but did Daisy even know about her? Would Alec want a former call girl turned erotica author anywhere near his daughter?

“I, uh… I’d like to introduce ye, if that’s alright? I know it’s soon, but she doesnae believe yer real.”

Hannah barked out a laugh, startling herself and Alec. “She doesn’t believe I’m real?”

“No.” Hannah smiled. So he did talk about her.

“I’d love to meet her,” Hannah said. Alec smiled and reach for her hand, tracing his thumb over her fingers. “When will she get here?”

“Friday evening,” Alec said.

“How about you meet her train and I’ll make dinner? I’ve got a signing on Saturday, and I’m sure you two would like some time together anyway,” Hannah suggested. Alec nodded and hummed his agreement around a mouthful of curry.

#

Friday came faster than Hannah was ready for. She was nervous to meet Daisy. What if the girl didn’t like her? She went for a run that morning to burn off her nervous energy, then spent the better part of the afternoon agonizing over what to wear and what to cook. She settled on homemade pizza for dinner, but the outfit was harder. She wanted to be trendy, but not too sexy, and most of clothes were both. At the last minute she settled on a casual yellow shift dress and a black cardigan.

“Will I do?” she asked Alec as he let her into his flat. Not that he knew the mind of teenage girls, but hearing the approval would lift her spirits. He looked her up and down, smiling.

“You’ll do.” He leaned in for a quick but thorough snog, and then gathered his keys. “Won’t be long.”

While Alec went to pick up Daisy, Hannah made the pizza. She piled it high with veggies and covered it liberally with cheese, then put it in the oven. She was looking for something to keep her busy when Alec and Daisy arrived.

“Han? We’re home,” Alec called as he wheeled Daisy’s suitcase into the entry. Daisy followed behind. She looked a great deal like Alec, though her hair was lighter and very long. She was dressed casually, jeans and a jumper, but she looked happy.

“Hello. I’m Hannah,” she said, stepping forward to shake Daisy’s hand. Hugging felt too familiar for the occasion. Daisy looked her over with a mischievous gleam in her eye.

“Yer Hannah, eh? Are ye sure he didnae pay ye to pretend?” Daisy asked. Fear shot through Hannah like a lightning bolt and her eyes flew to Alec. Had he told Daisy about Hannah’s past?

“Daisy!”

The girl laughed, and bypassed Hannah’s hand to hug her. “I’m just teasing Da, relax,”

Hannah laughed too, in relief, and Alec smiled tightly.

“Food’s in the oven. Hope you’re alright with pizza,” Hannah said.

“Yeah, that’s great. Thanks for cooking, Da’s rubbish at it.”

“Oi! I am not!”

Daisy leveled an unimpressed stare at Alec, and Hannah couldn’t help but come to his rescue. “He’s really not. He’s made me some lovely meals.”

“Now I know he’s paying you,” Daisy said with a wink, and wheeled her suitcase to the spare bedroom. Alec huffed, but Hannah could see the way joy colored his cheeks. She went to hug him, framing his face with her hands.

“Fatherhood looks good on you,” she said. Alec grinned and kissed her. Hannah meant to keep it short, Daisy would return any moment, but Alec held her tighter as she tried to pull away, tracing at the seam of her lips with his tongue, and she melted into him.

“Check out Da’s flat, Mum,” Daisy returned, sweeping her phone around the room so that Tess could see the space. Hannah and Alec jumped apart, but not before Daisy and Tess saw them kissing. Daisy blushed and turned the camera back to face her.

“And who’s that?” Hannah heard Tess ask, her voice cold.

“Um, that’s Da’s girlfriend. Hannah.”

“Let me talk to you father, Daisy,” Tess said. Alec rolled his eyes, but took the phone from Daisy and went into his bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

“Er, sorry,” Daisy said, chewing at her bottom lip. Hannah laughed it off and shook her head.

“Don’t worry about it. Your dad and I shouldn’t have been kissing like that. Want something to drink?”

“Yeah, a fizzy drink if Da’s bought any.” Daisy perched on a chair at the table while Hannah rooted around in the fridge. “And just so ye know, I don’t care if you two snog in front of me. It’s…it’s sort of nice, actually.”

“Nice?” Hannah’s eyes ticked towards the bedroom as Alec’s voice rose to a shout, but Daisy didn’t seem to notice.

“Yeah. He and mum were never really like that. I mean, they held hands when I was wee, but even that stopped when I was in primary. It’s good to see him happy,” Daisy said, taking a sip of the drink Hannah gave her. Hannah could feel her cheeks warm at the thought of being part of Alec’s happiness.

“I don’t bloody care, Tess!” Alec shouted. Hannah and Daisy both winced. The bedroom door flew open and Alec appeared, his eyes stormy as he paused in the doorway. “Better get used to it, she’s not going anywhere.”

His eyes found Hannah’s as he said that, and she knew he was talking about her. She offered him a smile a slight nod of agreement. His face softened. He ended the call and handed the phone back to Daisy, before returning to Hannah’s side to kiss her. It was short and sweet, but it said everything Hannah needed to know.

They chatted easily as they ate. Hannah discovered that Daisy had Alec’s sharp wit, and they liked the same shows and music. Hannah started to relax, finding so much in common with Daisy. After dinner, they settled in for a “family” movie, and the idea made Hannah feel like she’d been wrapped in a warm blanket; not smothering, just comforting. They all sat together on the couch, Alec between Hannah and Daisy. After a while, Daisy’s head was resting on Alec’s shoulder, and he reached for Hannah’s feet, starting to massage them. She couldn’t imagine a more domestic picture.

It was getting late when the movie ended, and Hannah pulled her feet from Alec’s lap. “I should go.”

Alec grabbed her ankle. “Why?”

“I don’t fancy getting home late, not after…everything that’s been going on.” Alec shook his head.

“Stay here.”

“Alec, I don’t think…”

“I don’t mind,” Daisy said drowsily, from the other end of the couch.

“Please stay, Hannah,” Alec asked, his eyes quietly pleading. Hannah couldn’t resist.

Daisy shuffled off to bed, and Alec locked his bedroom door behind them. His eyes burned for Hannah. They made love silently, saying everything they needed to with their bodies, things they couldn’t yet say in words. And when they’d collapsed against each other, panting hard, Hannah thought she’d never felt more satisfied.

#

“Are ye sure ye can’t spend the day with us, Hannah?” Daisy asked as they ate breakfast.

“I can’t, I’ve got a signing this afternoon. My publicist’ll kill me if I cancel it,” Hannah said, though there was nothing she’d rather do. Signings were stressful for her now, full of anxiety and fear over the letters and what they meant. She’d much rather spend the day with Alec and Daisy.

“Can we go?” Daisy asked, her eyes flicking between Alec and Hannah. Alec choked on his eggs.

“It’s an adults only event, Daisy, I’m sorry,” Hannah said.

“Yer mother would kill me,” Alec said, coughing again. Daisy absently smacked him on the back.

“Why?” Hannah looked at Alec, who shrugged.

“I write…erotica, Daisy. Under a different name,” Hannah explained.

“Wait…are you Belle du Jour?” Daisy asked. Alec frowned.

“How do you know about Belle?” Alec asked, slipping into his detective voice.

“Oh, mum loves those books. She’ll die when I tell her.”

“No!” Alec and Hannah shouted in unison.

“Let’s just…let’s keep this between us, yeah?” Hannah asked. “I don’t tell very many people that I’m Belle.”

“Okay,” Daisy said with a shrug.

The three of them left the flat at the same time, Hannah to her signing and Alec and Daisy to the British Museum. Hannah stopped quickly back at her house to change clothes, putting on a floral dress and a blazer. She got to the venue early, before any fans had arrived, for which she was thankful. She wanted a few minutes to herself.

She kept time by listening to the noise outside the dressing room. It grew steadily from a few murmurs to a dull roar as fans filled the space, waiting for her talk before the signing started. Was he out there? Her admirer? Her skin crawled at the thought of him watching from the crowd, knowing the thoughts he’d had about her. She wished Alec was there.

Hannah pushed her fears to the back of her mind and plastered on a smile for the event. It was mostly a blur, the same questions from fans, one face blurring into the next in the signing line. There was no one she recognized this time, and she was thankful for that. She was knackered by the time the cab dropped her off at her house.

There were flowers on her stoop.

She smiled as she read the card, printed by someone at the flower shop.

I’m sorry I couldn’t be there today, love. I’m sure you were brilliant.

Hannah let herself inside and dialed Alec as she put the flowers in a vase.

“How’d it go?” he asked, instead of answering with a greeting.

“It was fine. Thank you for the flowers, they’re lovely.” There was a long beat of silence.

“Sorry. I’m not mad at you.” Alec took her hand and kissed it. “At least I can’t give it back to you.”

“I really wish Torchwood had the antidote for this one. Sorry to say this, but it’s going to get a lot worse before you start to feel better.”

“Well you had better tell them to get of their arses and get working on that antidote yesterday. You seem to have some pull over there.” Alec cracked a smile even though his eyes were closed.

Rose crawled over him to the other side of the bed. She punched the fluffy the goose-down pillow and propped herself against the elegant, carved headboard. “This room is amazing. Didn’t know about this place. You did good, DI Hotty.”

“Yeah, and I can’t enjoy it. No moonlight beach walks. No 99s. Bloody flu. Bloody non-cancelation policy at the hotel. I want to go home, Rose.” He coughed, and then wheezed, and then coughed again.

“You’re too sick to go home. You can get pampered here. Order room service, soak in that huge tub, watch all the telly you want.”

“You know I hate telly. Bloody waste of time.”

“Just saying…” She crossed her arms and pursed her lips. “Not like there’s anything else you can be doing right now. You couldn’t be at work anyway, so how is it wasting time?”

He harrumphed and flopped onto his side, facing away from her.

“Alec, can’t you even try to rest? I know you feel wretched, but don’t take it out on me.”

“You took it out on me when you had the flu!”

“Oh, so we’re gonna do this, then? Tit for tat? Even Steven? A bit juvenile, if you ask me.” Rose sighed hard and closed her eyes. It was her turn to sigh.

They were both quiet for a while, and the room was silent until Rose started to flip through the room service menu.

“Want something to eat?”

“Soup. And hot tea. And both will be rubbish. Too much salt in the soup. And no one makes tea as good as you.”

Rose half smiled. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me since you spiked that fever.”

Alec again rolled on to his side, but this time he faced his wife. “I’m being a bastard.”

“I wouldn’t go that far. But you aren’t very pleasant to be around right now. If you weren’t honestly sick, I’d say you had Man Flu.”

“There is no such thing as Man Flu.”

“Sorry. That was rude. But I’m trying my best to make this easier for you, DI. I really am.”

“I know.” He coughed and then groaned. “I wanted to make up for the shoddy Valentine’s Day. You had flu. I didn’t get you anything. I—“

“Alec, don’t. You didn’t have to do this you know, book this mini-break. I never thought of this as trying to make up for Valentine’s Day.”

He was quiet.

“There wasn’t anything to make up for. I liked our Valentine’s Day. Jammie Dodgers and curry? Near the top of my list of favourite things. The only bad part was the flu bit.”

He nodded gingerly, eyes closed. “So not a do-over, then. But this is the truth. I did it because I wanted to do something nice for my lovely wife who puts up with my moods and irritation and complaints on a daily basis.”

Rose kissed his cheek and stretched out next to him. She rested her head on his chest and listened to his steady heartbeat.

He threaded his fingers through her soft hair and let out an exhausted sigh.

“What would be doing right now if you didn’t have a fever of 102?” Rose asked against his chest.

He pondered for a moment. “It’s almost eight, so right about now, we are being seated for dinner. Candle light. Champagne. Strawberries dipped in real chocolate, not the chalky fake kind.”

“Oi! Are you ever going to give that a rest? That was the first and last time I ever bought that.”

“I’ll never stop teasing you about that.”

She laughed quietly. “What next?”

“And after dinner, there we will be dancing in the glass-domed conservatory.”

“What are you wearing?” she asked.

“There’s a dress code at the restaurant, so I’m in my nicest suit — nothing I ever wear to work. It’s the one I wore to our wedding.”

“Blue tie, or red?”

“Red.”

She hummed happily. “I like that one.”

“What are you wearing?” he asked.

“I am wearing that black cocktail dress that I wore to the Torchwood Christmas party.”

“Sexy. I like that dress because I can feel your back while we’re dancing. Can slip my hands under the fabric. And it’s got that low cut bit up front.”

“Knew you liked it.”

“What shoes?” he asked.

“You do have a thing for shoes, don’t you?”

“Heels show off your brilliant running legs.”

“Four inch stilettos. They get me closer to your lips.”

Alec scratched her scalp. “Cheeky. What colour are they?”

“Shiny red. The bloke who sold them to me said they made my legs look good.“

Alec quietly grunted, and Rose laughed quietly. “Jealous?”

“Always.”

“Don’t be. And these don’t hurt—“

He completed her thought. “They don’t hurt your feet. On the other hand, you won’t have to kick them off and play footsie under the table.“ Alec laughed, but it turned into a racking coughing spell.

“Oh, love. I’m so sorry you have to deal with this.” Rose lifted her head and looked at him with sad eyes.

He encouraged her to return her head to his chest. “After we dance for a while, we’ll go into the bar for a nightcap. I’ll have a glass of sparkling water with lime, and you can have whatever you want. You know what they say about too much drink and sexual performance for men.”

“I doubt you could ever have that particular problem,” Rose growled as she stroked the smattering of hair on his chest.

“But remember, I’ve already had Champagne. Don’t want to tempt fate. And I want to be in my right mind when I make love to you. Want to memorise every single curve and dimple and soft and warm delicious part of you.”

Rose breathed in and out. “Not fair. This is worse than sexting. Because you’re here, and we can’t do anything about it because you’ve got the flu. You’re a tease.”

He chuckled. “Always. Teasing pays off most of the time.”

She buried her face into his chest, and breathed in the scent of his soap, but grimaced a bit as he also smelt of sweat and flu. “I’m glad we came here. Even though you have the flu, it’s still brilliant to get away.”

“Been too long.”

“Let’s do this again? But when you’re not flat on your back with the flu.”

“A non-Valentine’s do-over do-over?”

“Exactly.” Rose hesitated for a minute. “We’d better get in all of the minibreaks that we can before October.”

“What’s happening in October?”

Rose paused to chew her lip. She stilled her hand. “I was going to wait until dinner tonight, but since we aren’t going to dinner…” Her voice trailed off.

“Sorry about dinner. Never been to a Michelin two star restaurant before.”

“Never mind. I shouldn’t have said anything. I should wait. You’re sick and this is important, and—“

“You’ve piqued my interest now. No going back. I could investigate. My powers of interrogation are nearly always successful.” He coughed again. “Care to confess before I begin what will certainly not be a pleasant process.”

“Usually your interrogations are extremely pleasant. I happen to know you brought your cuffs.”

“Always on duty. I don’t go anywhere without them.”

“How well I know. Came in handy in my storage room.”

“Stop stalling.”

Rose hesitated for a moment, and then rolled off of the bed. She padded across the thick carpet to her suitcase. After digging around a bit, she returned to the bed, but stood still as a statue, her face flushing. She breathed in and out a few times.

“Would you hurry it up woman?” Alec said it as strongly as he could in his weakened state.

“Sorry. I’m nervous. I don’t know what you’re going to think about this. It’s unexpected and frankly, I’m shocked because, well, it was supposed to be 99.9% effective.”

From behind her back, she produced a small parcel wrapped in light blue tissue. It was wrapped like a piece of sweet candy, each end tied with pink ribbon. She climbed onto the bed, and sat on her knees. Biting her lip, she held it out to him.

Alec’s eyes went wide. He sat up as well as he could before he took the package from her outstretched hand. One bow was released as he tugged the tail, and then the second fell free. Without tearing the paper, he unrolled the tissue.

“You’re…?” Alec pulled out a tiny pair of baby booties.

She nodded. “Pregnant. Yeah.” She picked at her fingernails and nodded. Her eyes began to glisten.

“And you’re upset?” he asked, voice small.

She shook her head, and bit back a smile. “Not hardly. I didn’t know what you’d think about it.”

With more strength than a man with the flu should have, he grabbed her hand and tugged her down to him. He peppered her face with kisses. “How could I ever be upset?” He kissed the top of her head, and placed his hand low on her back. “So when do you think it happened?”

“Hard to tell. You’re always jumping my bones,” she teased.

“I do not jump your bones. It’s not my fault you’re so incredibly irresistible.”

“I like to think it happened when we went on that walk in the snow to the gazebo.”

“You were shivering. It was my duty as a husband to warm you up.” He cleared his throat a few times, and then grabbed a tissue. “Clothes-on sex is hot.”

“Speaking of hot. We need to stop talking about this. I’m getting… hot.”