It was as though time speeded up after that. I remember hazily saying my goodbyes to the kind nuns who had taken me in when I was broken and forlorn. I knelt before the head priestess and in the traditional manner she gently laid her hands on my shoulders and asked, keenly ”Is this what you want, child?”
I smiled through my tear filled eyes and whispered, “He is the father of my children, Mother”
She nodded silently and we were on our way.
In a few hours we were in the chartered plane, winging our way to the west.
The luxurious interiors of the plane barely registered with me; while Ria looked around her self, goggle eyed, Piers studied his father gravely and then, waving his tiny hand, gave Gaston a wide toothless smile.
I didn’t dare look at Gaston although he sat across us, his long legs stretched before him, nursing a drink. I could feel his eyes on us, brooding. The young attendant came over and offered me a drink but before I could refuse, Gaston growled, ’She doesn’t drink. She’s a bloody saint”. The startled girl went away as I flushed in embarrassment. He remembered.
Ria began to whimper restlessly; she was hungry. I looked around. I didn’t want to feed the twins with Gaston watching, I just didn’t.