It was very peaceful, only the sounds of the birds, insects and very distant traffic noise. In the few months he had lived alone, he had grown used to this pastural idyll. Alex was sat on a bench on the west side of the green lane, on the brow of the hill, beside an arable field, on a bright and fine September morning. It was clear and he took in the wonderful view to the north, over the Vale of Pickering across to Kirkbymoorside and Farndale. He was half way through his usual circuit of four miles for his a daily brisk walk from Laundry Lane to the village then to Broughton by the old railway track and up and around through the Bridle paths back to his small cottage. The two bedroomed terrace had been bought at auction in April, complete with basic furnishings left from its former use as a holiday home. It was perfect, a mile from the village, two miles from the nearest town and eight miles from the North York Moors. It was just outside of the main tourist haunts, so very quiet and peaceful. The house had previously been owned by a retired couple who had recently moved into full time residential care.
Alex had bought the cottage sight unseen. Here, he was a complete recluse except for his monthly appointments to the Nuffield Hospital in York for his check-ups, the bi-monthly visits of his therapist Jean Briggs and his weekly visits to the local supermarket.
Sergei had been dead for seven months. Murdered by assailants unknown. Maria and Alex had both been cleared as suspects. Two days after those fateful events, Maria had been left Paris to go back to Moscow, to take the reigns of Sergei Rushkov's vast business holdings. On hearing the plans, the teenager had discharged himself from hospital in Paris and traveled back with her. The pair were each others support through the nightmare of life without Sergei.
After the small private funeral was held in Moscow within five days for Sergei Rushkov. The Russian woman had insisted that Alex rest completely and follow the rules laid down by the doctor, with regular check ups, taking his prescribed medication and looking after himself. Sergei's staff now looked after Maria. Alex had felt completely unneeded as work kept Maria on her toes. So, the eighteen year old made plans for his own future. His workaholic sister had inherited most of Sergei's estate. The arms dealer had also bequeathed a substantial trust for his favourite poet. A monthly income to keep Alex in luxury, overseen by Maria, to prevent Alex falling into bad habits. He had used the money that kept being deposited by Edward to secure his own place, a cash sale in an auction for a home back in England. Even before Sergei's death, Alex had trusted Maria, as Sergei trusted her. She was a good friend, once you got to know her.
Alex breathed in the clean country air and tried not to think of the past, just the present moment. His seclusion guaranteed as he had left the name Rider behind. Here he was Alex Beckett. He had accomplished the name change legally. All his documentation changed, both his British and Israeli passports. The only person he had informed had been Maria, who was happy to act as buffer between the fragile poet and his previous life. He spoke to her at least twice a week. She was happy with his positive attitude, moving on from the devastation of the events of his eighteenth birthday.
The woman had expected Alex to have completely fallen apart after the loss of Sergei. The eighteen year old was, in truth, disassociated from the trauma, as he could not remember any of the events that day. All memory lost after his head trauma, which according to his neurologist was expected and normal. He still sported a wicked scar on the left side of his head caused by the bullet nicking his skull. He had intermittent awful headaches, but his depression, grief and other issues had not stagnated into self harm, but led to Alex's adoption and adherence to his own management plan to keep his weight up, to get over his complete devastation. Some may think of his life now as avoidance but it was a good comprosmise, as he had no reason to return to London, Paris, Nice or Moscow. He also had to admit his strong desire not to see or do anything.
Alex had a phone and laptop, but his only friend and confidante was his affectionate, bossy, adopted sister, Maria Federova. His only friend and family now.
Today was proving to be a good day, his walk perfectly timed to avoid dog walkers or kids on the way to school. He sat an tried to think of clouds and wild flowers in this beautiful landscape, he had not written verse since a short note he had left on Maria's desk
The storm inside me has stilled
My emotions were yours and yours alone
When did I loose myself in you?
You were my axis, the centre of my universe
Now I am alone in the void
No up, no down, no light, only dark...
He stood up to walk the mile home. He could not complain about his immediate neighbours, who were friendly enough, but thankfully not too nosy. The only personal contact for the young man, if you did not count the health professionals, the monosyllabic driver or the person on the till at Morrisons.
He arrived home to see Maggie, his neighbour, putting out the washing, taking advantage of the fine weather and stiff breeze. "Morning Alex. You look well this morning."
"Not bad, Mrs. Hooke. How about you."
"Good. My daughter is back tonight for the weekend."
Through conversations shared with his neighbour, Alex had heard all about Delia, twenty two, still at medical school. The apple of her parent's eye. "Have a good time. If you need anything I'll be around. Well I'm in York this afternoon. Do you want me to pick you up anything from M&S?"
"No thanks, love. You're a dear for offering." Margaret Hooke had tried to gossip with the driver who arrived the last Friday of the month, like clockwork, but who stated he knew very little about the teenager he ferried about. She has watched over the strange boy who had moved next door a week after its sale. The boy just an adult, had no visitors, he did not go out, neither to the pub, church or to any clubs.
Alex went inside and checked his computer for any emails and his mobile for messages. He had an email and a message both from Moscow, he then called Maria back. He was one of a very few that had that woman's direct dial. Maria had a new and very scary personal secretary in Yulia Zinovieva, a strict woman who was very good at insisting on messages being left and never disturbing her busy boss. Maria picked up after four rings. "Darling Sasha, how are you?"
"Fine, its a lovely morning here. I've just finished my walk."
"I'm glad you are fit and well. No headaches this week?"
"One on Tuesday. Not a full Migraine, so I was OK by the evening. I would have called you this evening after my appointment in York, what's up?"
"Five messages from Edward Pleasure. Please talk to him. He wants you to attend some open auditions in London next week."
"Later, after I see what Mr. Koreshi says after this afternoon's appointment."
"Sounds like a plan. You have Edward's details. Call him."
"Yes, Masha." Alex always agreed with Maria, she was usually right about everything. It helped the woman was brilliantly efficient. She had even sorted out the mess of the bequests from Ian Rider. The Royal and General had tried to play the 'Alex is mentally unstable card, so not to be trusted with any money'. Maria acted as banker, guardian and financial controller. She had a lawyer trying to track down personal effects, but it was likely Blunt had ordered the documents, photos and furniture sold or destroyed.
...
That afternoon, the driver arrived promptly at 1, as usual. Alex liked the fact Maria had sorted a private car for him to use. It was better than walking into Malton to get the bus or train into York. Dave was not a talker, then again he did not annoy Alex with questions. Alex would endure his poke and prod by the doctor then visit M&S for some decent food for the next week.
The doctor had the results of a series of scans, the nurses' observations and his four appointments with the miracle boy, who survived a shot to the head by a professional assassin. "Well, Alex. I think you are officially fit and healthy. You will probably continue to have headaches and migraines. So, no smoking, be careful how much alcohol you drink, especially red wine. Keep up the regular exercise, eat balanced meals and enjoy yourself responsibly and you should be fine."
...
After seven months Alex had finally been given a clean bill of health. He stood outside the hospital to tell Maria the good news straight away.
