Dear Rebecca,
It was good to talk to you earlier, and I have attached a link to our online brochure of our products and services. I’m sure we can provide you with the range of security solutions you will need in your new, high-profile position, whether this be in the form of personnel or home security/surveillance equipment.
As regards the DF 4000 Deluxe X-ray body scanner we were discussing, please be assured, I have never known a case of a husband “using it to track down shopping parcels hidden about his wife’s person.”
I look forward to hearing from you and fulfilling your security needs.
Best wishes,
Blake Wilson
Security Facilitation Vice President
It’s fine. It’s all good. We’ll get used to this.
I’m sure every family finds it tricky at first, having a bodyguard.
It only took twenty-four hours to fix myself up with a security team. The company couldn’t have been more helpful, and they totally understood that I need extra protection now I’m in the public eye. After a bit of discussion we decided that I maybe didn’t need an armed twenty-four-hour squad, but I could start with what they call “mid-level protection.” My team began work this morning, and so far they’ve been brilliant. There’s Jeff and Mitchell, who are both dressed in dark suits and shades. And there’s Echo the German shepherd dog, who was trained in Russia, apparently. We’ve had a briefing meeting to discuss my requirements, and we’ve discussed my itinerary for the day. Now Mitchell is touring the house with Echo in order to check the “ongoing security of the premises,” while Jeff sits in the kitchen in order to provide “personal integrity reinforcement.”
The only thing is, it’s a bit awkward having Jeff in the kitchen at breakfast. He just sits there at the side of the room and looks unsmilingly at everyone and mutters things into his headset. But we’ll have to get used to it, now we’re a celebrity family.
There’s still no word from Dad, beyond a text he sent Mum late yesterday, saying,
Landed fine in L.A. Have some things to take care of. Remember to water the roses. Graham xxx
Remember to water the roses. I mean, honestly. Mum nearly had a fit. I’ve already spoken to her today on the phone, and I’ve got lots of messages to pass on to Dad, should I see him. (Most would result in instant divorce, so I think I might forget about those.) I just hope he’s OK. I mean, I know he’s a grown man, but I can’t help worrying. What “things” is he taking care of? Why hasn’t he told Mum? What’s the big secret?
I pour myself some coffee and offer the coffeepot to Tarquin, but he doesn’t notice. He’s munching a piece of toast and listening to his iPod, which is his new thing. He says he has to start the day with an hour of guided meditation, and it drives Suze mad.
“Tarkie!” She pokes him. “I said, I might meet my agent this afternoon. Can you pick the children up?”
Tarkie gives her a blank look and takes another bite of toast. He looks so different these days. He’s tanned, and his hair is cropped really close to his head (Suze hates that too), and he’s wearing a soft gray T-shirt with a logo of the sun on it. I’ve seen them in the gift shop at Golden Peace. There’s a special course called Turn to the Sun and lots of merchandise to go with it, only I don’t know what it’s all about, because I never did it.
It has to be said, I’m just a tad less into Golden Peace than I was. I think I’ve grown out of it. It’s a natural process: You gain everything you can from a place and then you move on. I mean, I’m totally cured of shopping now, so what’s the point of going back? (Plus the gift shop is online, so if I need anything from it I can just log on.)
“Tarkie!” Suze rips an earbud out of Tarkie’s ear, and he flinches in irritation.
“Suze, I need to concentrate,” he says, and pushes his chair back with a scraping sound.
“You don’t! What does that thing say anyway? Stop listening to your wife? Stop engaging in the real world?”
Tarkie glares at her. “It’s a tailor-made meditation recorded by Bryce. He says my psyche is battered by the world and I need to retreat.”
“I’ll batter him,” mutters Suze.
“Why are you so negative?” Tarkie clutches his head. “Suze, you’re toxic. Finally I’m getting my head together and you have to … to … to sabotage me.”
“I’m not sabotaging you!” Suze yells. “Don’t you dare call me toxic! Who brought you to L.A. in the first place? Who said you needed a break? Me!”
Tarkie isn’t paying any attention to her, I realize. He’s focusing on a far corner of the kitchen, breathing deeply.
“Tarkie?” Suze waves a hand in front of his face. “Tarquin.”
“Bryce said this would happen,” he says, as though to himself. “People outside the method are afraid of it.”
“What method?” expostulates Suze.
“You need to strip yourself bare to build yourself back up again,” says Tarquin, as though the very fact of having to explain it pains him. “You need to strip away every level. Do you know how many levels we all have?” He rounds on Suze. “Do you realize how much work I still have to do?”
“You’ve done enough work,” says Suze savagely.
“No, I haven’t! You’re obstructing me!” He sweeps the whole kitchen with his gaze. “You’re all obstructing me!” He shoves his earbud back in his ear, swivels on his heel, and stalks out of the room.