As he drove, he thought about how this century had wrought major changes in the society. It reminded him of the joys and sorrows of his childhood. He finally arrived at his destination and drove into the compound. Jackson and Victoria came out to meet him and welcomed him inside.
"I found her," Morgan said.
"I hope the plan is going to work," Jackson said. When Morgan got back to his villa, it was already in the dead of night. He glanced at his watch and realized it was almost midnight. Sophie had fallen asleep on the couch. He carried her upstairs to the guest room, placing her gently on the queen size bed. She looked fresh and beautiful... and innocent. No rancor in her face, no recrimination. Light spilled from the windows awakening Sophie and Morgan. He had fallen asleep by her side.
Sophie raised her eyebrows in polite enquiry as she looked at him. His eyes appeared to be laughing but she knew they were not, for if you looked into them and did not take into account the other features of his face, you saw that their expression was laden with a peculiar sadness, not a vacant sadness, but a sadness that was full of awareness; in his brain there was a pocket of knowledge that made him aware of his plight and futility of struggling against it. He knew that she would forge comfort, and happiness, and yes, even the love of her parents in exchange for his wellbeing.
Morgan doubted his own words as he saw Sophie bow her head and the big slow tears roll down her cheeks and drop from her chin before her blind groping could produce a handkerchief. She sat down and smoothed the grey serge skirt she had changed into the previous day. Every word he said to her had, she felt, a thread of criticism running through it.
She said, "Thank you, for everything."
It was a companiable house, warm, welcoming. The interior was starkly simple. The room was decorated in vibrant reds and yellows. They exchanged tight prim smiles and Morgan spoke, "It's a case of needs must when the devil drives. And as my father always said it's either that or spend the rest of my life in hell after I'm dead." Morgan went away to fetch the champagne and she was left alone. The guest room was a low-ceilinged room, whitewashed like the rest of the house, and furnished with a pleasing mixture of modern Scandinavian and antique Spanish. The weather brightened.
The clouds thinned and broke, disclosing a morning sky of robin's egg-blue, and far below the crumpled town was streaked with the pink light of the rising sun. Somewhere, in the middle of the house, a clock struck eight, and as the last note chimed Morgan came back into the room carrying a tray with the champagne bottle in a bucket of ice, and two wine glasses. She watched as he expertly loosened the cork, the golden foaming wine spilled into the two glasses, and they each took one and raised them, both smiling because it was suddenly a party.
His eyes were brimming; with a malicious amusement, which she had no intention of sharing. His hair, she saw then, was pale blond, turning grey, and his face was deeply tanned, thin and bony, the skin dry and finely wrinkled from long exposure to the sun. His eyes were very pale, and more grey than blue. He wore a black polo-necked sweater and a light oatmeal-colored suit with pleated pockets, like a safari shirt, and a belt hung loose, the buckle swinging. He smelt of aftershave and looked as clean as if he had been bleached.
They sipped their wine, not talking at all, lost in the complexities of their own reveries and spent the day strategizing in preparation for the day ahead. They would expose Michael Trenton and his regime would finally collapse after twenty-five years of misrule. There was a high, full moon riding the dark crest of the clouds, and it silvered the apple tree, the rose bushes and the rockery filled with alpine flowers that was Morgan's pride and joy. A slight breeze had blown up and it rustled the leaves of the old tree, and swept the heady fragrance of the last of the summer roses towards them on the pleasant, night air.
The ink-black velvety sky was incredibly beautiful, glittering with brilliant stars and swept by searchlights, which continued to crisscross the dark clouds with giant beams of blazing white light. Morgan ate hardly anything, but sipped glass after glass of the icy wine while Sophie worked her way steadily through his delicious four-course dinner. They later retired to bed for the night.