Episode FOUR – Bonnie and Clyde
He yawns heartily. The lack of a decent night's sleep for the past few weeks slowly catches up with him. He is just glad that Bridget rests better at night these days. It has begun to get quite worrisome with her nightmares and nightly excursions, which have stopped now though. He glances at his watch. About half past ten. But he forgot he had his glass in his left hand and now a few drops have spilled onto his tie. Frowning he rubs at it cursing his clumsiness and hoping it won't leave stains. Who knows for how much longer will he be able to afford $400 ties, if he does the right thing, especially now with Arbogast grieving? But can he afford not to slay that old dying elephant bull? If they don't, others WILL. Every instinct in him screams at him to do it and he doesn't know for how much longer he can hold back Olivia either. She smells the blood in the air and has been pacing her cage for weeks now. And even if Bridget would probably be perfectly content to stay with him and Juliet in a tiny two-bedroom-flat in Brooklyn, she deserves so much more than a down and out pretend-to-be-husband. And he mustn't forget he has responsibilities towards Juliet, Olivia, 427 employees and their families all over the world and their investors and their families, too. There are not alone his life and his money on the line here. So, what's really the right thing to do? Besides, this tie was a birthday present from Siobhan; her last birthday present ever to him. Thinking about birthdays he's transported back to Bridget's first one they celebrated together.
He had been in their wardrobe about to knot his tie, when he heard her start trashing on their bed and had immediately rushed back. He'd become quite proficient in very gently calming her down at night. Sometimes she even relaxed enough into a slight smile. More than once he wondered what she was dreaming about. Was it about Siobhan's death - still a mystery to him, the crime she had witnessed, that criminal Bodaway as he had learnt him to be by now by googling his name, the man she killed, about him finding out or something different altogether? Some unknown horror he couldn't even imagine? During her pregnancy Catherine had a lot of nightmares about getting so bloated up that she doesn't give birth but just bursts and baby, intestines and everything spills out or about Juliet being born sick or disabled in any way. Contrary to him Catherine hadn't been much looking forward to being a parent, feeling at the age of twenty-one far too young for such a responsibility. Did Bridget feel not ready with her life so uncertain and in danger? But this time he wouldn't leave the frightened expecting mother alone to pursue his career at J.P. Morgan, which hadn't gone over well with his in-laws back then. He had been allowed to marry into the Farnsworth Family – Massachusetts branch -, therefore it had been expected that he certainly would put all of his efforts and talent into furthering the Family's fortune by joining the family owned investment company directly after graduating from Harvard Business School, seeing as he hadn't brought any money worth counting into the marriage.
When he saw Bridget sitting up disoriented on his side of the bed, he was flattered for a second or two. She must have moved over to his side after he had sneaked quietly out of bed. It pleased him to imagine that she might have known subconsciously that he had left and was looking for him and the protection his presence provided or seeking the warmth he had left behind. Or this was just a result of her trashing; his mind helpfully supplied a more realistic explanation. In any case it wouldn't have been helpful to get mushy all over the place, the more since Bridget didn't know what he was doing to help her find rest during the night and it would confuse her even more, so he just turned around to knot his tie in the mirror, still watching her carefully and voicing his worries. Immediately she tried to distance herself again by wanting to go to the Hamptons all by herself. But Andrew wasn't having any of this anymore. If she wanted to make it work between them, she would have to let him in. Besides it was her birthday, for crying out loud! It flabbergasted him to learn that Bridget had forgotten about her birthday. This was so unlike Siobhan, who had always insisted on making it a big event and started talking about what she'd like to get weeks in advance – the more the better. A confetti parade with the National Guard and music bands right on Time Square would have been the ultimate gift for her, he had often teased her. Bridget being alone on her birthday was not good for her. He would not see her lonely and getting depressed on her special day, even if he had to do it by gently forcing her to accept his lead. New friends should surround her, especially since she was so far removed from her home and her old friends.
He was even more aghast to hear her suggesting she'd take the Jitney. This would never do, he realised. Bridget needed to learn as quickly as possible that there was only one way Siobhan did things – in the most expensive and exclusive way on principle. So he made a joke about the subway and hoped she got his message. It pleased him that she had at least a quick come back ready and was by now relaxed enough in his presence that she started teasing him in return. He still knew so little about her and what she would like to do on her special day was a complete mystery to him. So he suggested they'd do what Siobhan had loved to do - going to the Hamptons for the usual Siobhan-birthday-get-away. It was high time she learnt a bit more about her sister's habits, preferences and their history, so she would be better prepared for her life as Siobhan and not be taken unaware by the hyenas she'd meet sooner or later in their circle. He could do that discretely while they were away from curious eyes. It appealed to his playful side to do this without her even noticing and flattered his ego to be cleverer than she. It would be just a little harmless game.
He would invite the Butlers. It would help ease her into her role as Siobhan and they were the ones most likely to keep quiet about any of her blunders. But they were also the closest friends they had; they'd be the litmus test for Bridget's impersonation. The more he thought about it, the more he loved the idea. He had such fond memories and missed these weekends when things were still great between him and Siobhan and Gemma and Henry. Or when it was just the two of them. They'd sleep in, read the Sunday edition of the New York Times and try to solve the crossword puzzle, walk along the surf, take out the boat, talk about all and everything under the sun, watch the sun go down, light a fire in the fire-place, snuggle up against each other under their warm blanket in winter and watch some cheesy movie with only token protest from him or some football game of his favourite UK team and make love until they saw the sun come up again. It was his time-out from New York City and its demands. Full of anticipation he sailed out of their bedroom, already planning how to best sneak out of office and dump his workload on Olivia.
He couldn't believe how much it felt like old times. He was walking along the surf with Bridget like he used to with Siobhan and they talked about all and everything. All was just like it used to be. And it felt so great. The gentle breeze, the sun's autumn warmth, the gentle laughter of his wife and her teasing of him. He relaxed and put the text he had received from the Baruso family lawyer with the polite order to call them to the back of his mind. They were pissed that one of their hitmen had been killed by "Siobhan" and demanded M/C would do their bit. Well, they hadn't held up their end of the bargain first, as much as Andrew was concerned. They had had two weeks to kill Siobhan and hadn't taken any action, claiming she hadn't been able to find. And then they had taken action only AFTER Andrew had called off the contract. They owed each other nothing but one phone that Bridget hadn't returned as insurance against them which was really a good thing. It might come in handy, if the Barusos didn't back off soon. But he really didn't want think about work. He wanted to think of Siobhan's birthday. He wanted to live just in the moment. He just wanted to walk along the beach with this beautiful woman at his side. He felt himself slipping deeper and deeper into the illusion. And he embraced it wholeheartedly. He forgot about his intention to educate Bridget on Siobhan's life and their problems, telling his side of the story for once. He wanted to believe he was forever walking with Siobhan at his side.
But the perfect illusion of walking with Siobhan forever was suddenly broken by a noise. They were not alone in the house – burglars. But if they wanted something he owned, they would have to get through him first. What was Andrew Martin's stayed Andrew Martin's. So he took the poker and followed the noise until he heard raised voices and realised it was only the Butlers, who had used their keys to let themselves in, and was harshly reminded of their purpose being here. So he ignored his own disappointment and manipulated an equally not too pleased Bridget into welcoming them. Leaving the ladies alone to get the bags the poker felt heavy in his hand and for a moment Andrew entertained the idea to give in to his instincts and strike Henry down. But the idea was gone as quickly as it came. There was no need for jealousy anymore, even if Siobhan's order to just take it, keep quiet and appearances up, if he wished for a chance of reconciliation or just remaining a free man, didn't apply anymore. He could afford to be generous. Besides, it would just be plain stupid. And he wasn't.
At night he couldn't sleep. It was Siobhan's birthday. His thoughts kept going rounds and rounds. What happened to Siobhan? Where was her body? Did she drown? Did she cut her wrists? Did she overdose on sleeping pills? Did he drive her to it? He would never have pegged her as suicidal, no matter what. With her stubborn streak a mile wide Siobhan didn't know how to give in graciously. What if her body was found? WHERE WAS SHE? Was she close by on the premises or far away? What exactly happened when the sisters met? What had Bridget done with her life since he had married Siobhan? Trying to google her had been an exercise in frustration and futility. While there was tons of information available about one Bridget Kelly – pop-singer from New York City – there was next to none about other women with that name. He had found a 2 year old Bridget Kelly from Chicago, another Bridget Kelly was an old granny in Tampa, Florida and five more in Irland and the UK. And then there had been one high-school picture of the class of '95, which he had already seen before, with her standing next to Siobhan. And nothing else No address, no phone number, no police report from that accident years ago, no Facebook, no nothing. He realised the FBI must have very thoroughly removed any traces of this Bridget Kelly from the internet in an act to protect her from Macawi.
Which was quite understandable. That man was a nasty piece of work. Though... what had Bridget done in that strip club? The last he had heard of her was, that she had worked as a sales girl in a lingerie shop by day and had just submitted her application for evening classes at the community college. It had seemed her wild days of being the town's own notorious party girl had passed. Had she been there for a delivery of the girls' 'working clothes'? And just had got caught up in this nightmare?
The impulse to confront Bridget to finally get the answers hit him more than once during the night. What had Bridget done to Siobhan's body? He watched her on the beach throwing stuff into a campfire. Was that how she managed to hide the body? Had she burned her own sister? Or had she chained her body to a heavy rock and sunk her into the bay? Well that was far more realistic, because it took quite a bonfire to burn a body. Someone would have noticed, even if most of the houses were deserted during the week. In any case he was horrified. What kind of person did that? But the more he thought about her and her likely story, the more she began to fascinate, even excite him. Really, she was just like him. Their survival instincts were exceptionally strong. They stuck at nothing if the situation called for it and if they were desperate enough. It made him feel like Bonnie and Clyde. They would outsmart them all! This was the ultimate game! Smiling he kept watching her for a while longer, until the fire had burnt down and she came back to the house. Shoulders hunched by fatigue and a heavy burden. He went to bed and pretended to be asleep as he always did when she sneaked in again after her late night excursions. Gently, gently she got under the covers. When her breath evened out, he rolled over and his hand hovered over her naked, pale looking shoulder in the moon light, for the first time wanting to touch and caress, but in the end he just pulled up the cover, lest she did get cold. She was not alone in this, even if she didn't know.
After having watched her the entire day interacting with their friends and him as an almost perfect impersonation of Siobhan, he couldn't believe she blundered so badly. Watching her eat the hors d'oeuvre with ham it hit him like a ton of bricks and really brought the truth home to him for good. This was NOT Siobhan. She was NOT a carbon copy of her. This was a completely different woman, a woman he did NOT know, even if she did sometimes things that Siobhan did the same way, held her head the same way, used the same expressions and shared many opinions with her sister. She was NOT Bonnie and he was NOT Clyde and what the hell were they thinking? They couldn't possibly hope to get away with this charade! This was madness! Wall Street's own James Bond, who had sat calmly and collected during the search of his offices in New York, London and on Jersey by the SEC and their sister organisation in the UK last year, panicked for the first time ever and made things even worse by picking up Gemma's comment instead of glossing over it.
But she came up with an excuse so ingenious, she took once more his breath away. Again, her quick thinking on her feet saved them. That woman was incredibly amazing! He couldn't help it, this time he had to touch her shoulder, kiss her in relief. Happy birthday, 'my little Bonnie'. He added in his mind. She looked so much like a little girl at this moment. 'Did I do it right, Andrew? Are you satisfied with me?' the expression on her face seemed to ask him. And yes, by god, yes, she did and he was. Succumbing to a wave of tenderness, he pushed back a strand of her hair. She tried so hard to be what he wanted her to be and for this alone she deserved his best efforts to make it work between them, starting with giving her the best birthday ever. So he went out to oversee the last minute preparations, helped the waiters to lit up the millions of candles and explained the schedule for the evening again. Nothing would ruin it. He couldn't wait for her to come out, because he knew, it would please her. He would do whatever he could to ease her pain of celebrating her dead sister's birthday. It was hard for him, too. He had loved Siobhan so much, then less and less, until he loved the memory of the good times and no longer the woman she had become. And then Bridget came, saw and was genuinely delighted. And her happy smile took away his pain.
Her obvious pleasure ignited his good mood. He had done things right for once. She could steal all his food, he didn't mind. Was even happy to have her so comfortable with him that she succumbed to the ages old instinct to steal food from her man as a sign of belonging. He discovered he loved being claimed by her, so he would gladly provide her with everything she might need and not because it was part of their unspoken business arrangement. What was his was hers, his equally ages old instincts responded. She had only to reach out for him, give him one little sign that she wanted more out of their little deal. Looking at Henry's sullen face, he couldn't help himself and laid his arm in a proprietary gesture on Bridget's chair to rub more salt into Henry's wounds. Last birthday, Henry had pleased his wife and he had to sit and watch, this year, this birthday the tables were turned. It was Andrew again she smiled for, turned to and expressed her delight to.
But Gemma destroyed his sweet feeling of victory and as a consequence Bonnie's perfect birthday. Did she feel unwell? Had she found out? Henry's eyes reflected his own worries. And for the first time there had been some unspoken understanding and recognition regarding the affair between them. Because Gemma was unpredictable, when she was upset.
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