Sat poking a fire in the small makeshift grate, Alex felt no time had passed from the last time he'd co-habited with Liv, not that living rough was really co-habitting, just keeping each other safe and having a bit of company. Liv had been a mother to a lot of runaway teens over the years, guiding them to safety and decent hostels. Alex had been a tough nut at eighteen, a coiled spring held in check by paranoia and the ambition to survive without any interference from MI6 or anything to do with the government, councils or charities. Liv had never passed judgement on another of society's aberrations. The fifty or sixty something had been on the streets for nearly ten years and only during the coldest periods did she seek shelter herself. She just preferred living 'al fresco'. She never talked of her past and never pressed anyone else for details. Tonights dingy accommodations was a large warehouse, which had a leaky roof, broken windows and was home to several dozen pigeons and enough rats to keep Alex awake. This prime piece of south London real estate was soon to be redeveloped into more overpriced apartments.
Liv was already snoring and snorting. Her heavy smoking habit evident in her throaty laugh and harsh cackling when amused and short of breath. All the bag lady needed was a cauldron, rather than her bags of possessions, and maybe a black cat to morph into the stereotype of an old hag or wicked witch. Alex had sure run through his own nine lives and was hanging onto his last life by the slimmest of margins. He had stolen a very swanky iPhone and was presently surfing the net, reading up on Edward, Liz and Sabina Pleasure, but also Jerry Harris, who was running a successful extreme sports company based in Italy and Sicily. It was the first time he had looked back at his former life since 2005. Tom Harris had no profile in social media and had not achieved his ambition to be a premiere league footballer. Each of his classmates from Point Blanc were still rich, successful and all were to some degree or other paparazzi fodder.
Sabina was as beautiful as ever, working as a junior reporter on the Evening Standard. Alex read some of her backlog of dry witty critiques on London life. He wondered where she lived? She was probably very driven, ambitious and was proving to be as good a writer as her dad. It was armchair stalking using the web. If Alex was truthful to himself, he had left California and then normal life altogether to protect beautiful, happy and successful Sabina, the girl he had loved and lost. Sabina had already been at college when Alex up and left the house in San Francisco, which had been empty without her and Alex had no reason to endanger Liz and Edward anymore. He had been a sullen, distant shadow before being committed to mental care. He had endured that and on finding the treatment had been paid for by MI6, had had a monumental row with Edward for collaborating with the enemy. It had been the excuse Alex needed to leave.
Alex had been in denial in every sense about his former life. Not thinking about his past on any level. Loosing Enid, had been loosing another family. He did not have the strength to start afresh again, hence seeking out Liv. At St. Brendan's, he had chosen not to speak to Sabina once he had returned to London and had returned her and Liz's letters unopened. He had tons of regrets over his actions. Was it to late to say, 'I'm sorry'? He had definitely not been thinking straight then and the shrinks were not wrong calling him paranoid, but he was also sure he was still nuttier than a bar of Cadbury's Fruit and Nut.
Flowers were the best way of apologising, it wasn't as if he was brave enough to just turn or maybe he should actually test the water and tell the people he had left behind that he was still among the living and OK-ish.
…
Mothers day 2011 had passed a week ago and Liz looked at the picture in her office of her daughter and her lost foster son taken in Cornwall in 2001, that boy, now young man was in her thoughts. The house too quiet as Edward was in Singapore for a lecture and book signing event. The photo capturing the moment before the bombing, before the kidnapping and before the lovely boy Alex disappeared before their eyes, replaced by a silent shell.
She was meant to be outlining initial ideas for a friend's theatre production, but the designer went to make a cup of tea. Sabina had emailed not an hour ago, following another lead on a homeless man, who would most likely not be their Alex. Both Edward and Sabina had tried to find the missing man, who had eluded them, the police and any official channels. Six years had passed and the small group of Alex's friends had not lost hope, there had been a trickle of eye witness accounts of a tall, skinny London boy called Alex but with dark hair and an aversion to anything official. The trail had gone cold two years ago. Bright, sneaky and with the ability to speak several languages like a native and lie, cheat and steal, Alex could be up to anything. The chances were he had purchased forged documents and was now living and working far from London. All Liz Pleasure could hope was that he was healthy and happy.
The door bell rang and she went to a see it was a delivery of flowers.
…..
"What do you mean Alex sent you a bouquet?" Sabina Pleasure practically screamed down the phone.
"Deep pink and white roses. The card simply stated 'I'm sorry, Liz for everything. You were the closest I ever had to a mum, with a million regrets Alex.'" A sob escaped Liz, "I may be reading to much into this sudden contact, but it sounds like he's reached the end of his tether. Have you any news?"
"Rev. David Reynolds is almost positive he talked to Alex last week." Sabina was half tempted to emit the fact Alex had been an emotional wreck. The clergyman had seen confirmed a blond haired, brown eyed man who looked like the last photo Sabina had taken of her friend. "I spoke to a woman called Liv. Alex was sleeping rough in Vauxhall two nights ago. He was going to Bermondsey to pick up contacts about building work."
Two hours later, Sabina was woken at 3am by Edward calling her to discuss her news in detail. The writer corroborated Sabina's feeling that it sounded like Alex might not run if they found him, that he might accept help and may come home.