Jane arrived home to an empty flat. Shrugging her shoulders, she left the groceries on the kitchen counter and headed to the bedroom to change. She sighed as her aching feet hit the plush carpet and left her stiletto heels in the doorway. Deciding that James would be home soon, she smiled, biting her bottom lip, and started toward the wardrobe to retrieve the silk nightgown which she knew would drive him wild.
Opening the wardrobe door she stopped. No suit. No shoes. No ties.
No James.
Ripples of fear began to gather in the pit of her stomach a she rushed to find her mobile amongst the groceries. With terrible scenarios racing through her mind at a numbing speed, she raised the phone to her ear and . . . .stopped. Replacing the handset into her handbag. Jane gently fingered the crimson envelope lying on the counter, before grasping it to her chest and with one deep breath, she opened the letter.
My darling Jane,
I know that with you I have the life that I never thought possible . . .but you deserve more. I know that I told you that I thought was ready for fatherhood, but now I realise that a safe, happy and loving environment is something that only you can provide.
I have handed in my official resignation to Her Majesty's Secret Service, as I no longer feel worthy of the job, knowing what a coward I have been .
I do not expect you to ever forgive me, but please Jane, try to understand that I am doing this for your sake, and that of our unborn child. I know we never discussed names for a boy, but remember how we decided that Isabella would be the perfect name for our daughter. Please, tell her how her father loves her.
I will miss your smile, your laugh, your hair, your eyes, your heart, Penny, and my biggest regret is that I will no longer be the man you love, or your husband.
With all my love in this life and the next
I'm sorry
James x
Jane crumpled the tear stained page in her trembling hand and sank down onto the cold kitchen floor. Curling into a ball, she began to sob; afraid, empty and alone.
Opening the front door, Helena Smith was shocked to be greeted by the sobbing form of her sister.
"Janey?!" she managed, gathering her sister into her arms and leading her inside. As the pair reached the living room, Jane left her bags in the doorway and flopped down on the couch, only to be joined by her sister, who laid a comforting arm across her shoulders.
"Oh Helena, I'm so sorry. I didn't even call but I just. .. . .I ju- . . . . . ." she lowered her voice to a whisper and managed to raise her head a little, giving Helena a full view of her bloodshot, puffy eyes, "I just don't know what to do."
Helena took a deep breath and prepared herself for an explanation. She knew that is Jane had run out of answers, then something was dreadfully wrong.
"About what?" she asked finally.
"James. He's gone, Helena, just walked out. I mean how could he? We're having a baby for God's sake! And he just walks out! No goodbye, no explanation - oh sorry; he left a note!!"
She finished, her anger bringing a fresh bout of tears, as she handed Helena the note. After quickly reading it, the married woman of the two girls just had to ask, "well, maybe something has happened, I mean someone could have forced him to write it . . .you know - kidnapped him?!!?"
Jane let out a short, harsh laugh, "Helena bless you for being so lovely, but I think I should face facts and admit that the great, womanising rat that is James Bond has run off and left me! Can't believe I expected anything more!" She sobbed into the cushions on the couch, because even though she had just stated, in the harsh light of day, that she believed him to be a womanising rat, she couldn't quite believe that he had actually left her. Alone. All that she could see in her mind was his smile in the morning, the cheeky grin he gave her when she caught him watching her. She thought about the way that he held her hand in the street and gently squeezed it every now and again, making her feel like she had never been safer. And most of all, she thought about how the feel of his lips on hers made her feel like she could not be happier even if she tried. Stroking her stomach, she cried more than ever for the baby that she thought would never know its father.
Helena sighed and again gathered her sister into her arms, doing the only thing that she knew would help, and just holding her.
A few hours later, Jane woke from her exhausted sleep to the smell of sweet chocolate coming from the kitchen. Recognising it as one of her favourite childhood smells, she realised that Helena was preparing hot chocolate and marshmallows. She smiled softly to herself, feeling blessed to have such a wonderful sister.
"Ah, hello there sleepyhead!" called a voice from the doorway. "Now, Lionel says that he will be back in a couple of hours, so I hope you're prepared to face the wrath of a man whose favourite sister-in-law has been hurt by another one of his own sex?" Helena half teasingly said.
Gratefully taking the mug from her sister's hands, Jane took a generous sip of the warm, syrupy liquid and sighed, feeling a little more human. "I'm sorry for disturbing you Helena, I should've called first -"
"Janey!" Helena admonished, "darling, we're sisters! I know that I haven't always been there for you, and we've spent more than a few holidays apart, but I love you, and will never, ever, turn you away from my home, or regret spending one moment drying your tears." Deeply moved by this, Jane simply accepted the hug being offered to her and took another sip of the warming drink before her.
Some minutes later, Helena began with a whisper, "so, Isabella eh? You know you had a doll called that when we were younger."
"What?" asked Jane, confused as to where this conversation had sprung from.
"Isabella. The name you decided for your baby if it's a girl. By the way -"
"We didn't decide on Isabella, we decided on Amelia."
"Amelia? But the letter said -"
"Isabella. The letter said Isabella. Why would James write that? He didn't like that name, we decided on Amelia. Mia. He hated Isabella, I could tell by the look on his face-"
"Maybe he changed his mind?" Helena offered.
"No! No he hated Isabella, it was his first girlfriend's name and she kissed someone else on his seventh birthday! Oh Helena, you know what this means don't you?!"
"Erm -"
"It wasn't James, the letter wasn't James, I mean, it was his handwriting but it can't be him! He must have been forced to write it. Oh God what's happened to him?"
Now pacing the carpet, Jane was frantic with worry, and yet strangely relieved. She had known deep in her heart that the letter was uncomfortable in some way and now she realised why. She kicked herself for being so blinded by the impression that he had made one of her underlying worries resurface, and then quickly directed her mind to the task of discovering what on earth had happened to the man she loved.
