Lucky Man Pt. 02

My travelling companion in the adjacent seat looked up with his usual sweet smile on his face. My adopted son, who I affectionately called Bill Junior, chipped in.

"Hello" he said, with only a trace of an accent, "My name is Billy, I regret that my Dad has neglected thus far to introduce us."

Bill Junior, or Billy, as he preferred, was full Chinese, small in stature, the runt of the litter. He was 13 years old but could have passed for ten, whilst maturity-wise he could have been 30. He had a very open, trusting face, was a bright and excellent linguist, his English was superb, as was his Japanese, French and German, as well as of course his native Mandarin.

"Pleased to meet you, Billy," smiled Carol, removing her hand from behind my neck to shake his proffered hand. "I'm Carol, an old friend of your father. You speak English very well, with only a very slight accent."

"That's because my English teacher's Scottish, don't you think I shound a little bit like Shean Connery?" he grinned his most charming cheesy smile, as he put on the distinctive actor's trademark lisp. He knew that all the ladies loved Billy's smile, and he loved all the ladies in his turn, did Bill Junior. He hadn't quite completed his transition through puberty, still exploring the outer reaches of his impending change, but he knew instinctively that he could turn on the charm at will and learned that its effects were much more rewarding when focussed on the female of the species.

I let Billy and Carol chat on while I closed my eyes, trying to forget about my embarrassing erection.

Bill Junior is a very intelligent, optimistic and enthusiastic kid. He came to my notice when I first arrived at my hotel in Beijing. He was approaching each new arrival hoping to drum up business, you know, girl or boy 'company', not necessarily him, he was much too young, but he had contacts, oh yes he had contacts for anything. I engaged him in conversation, stringing him along. He hinted that he could get anything I wanted. It also seemed that he was prepared to sell himself if necessary. He called himself Billy and said he was 12 at the time, but he was tiny. When I eventually met his parents a few months later I found he was only 9. His Mum and Dad told me he was a wild and uncontrollable child and they couldn't cope, they both worked all hours to support Billy's grandparents and a couple of great grandparents in a tiny hovel some distance from the city.

I took on Billy as my first employee in China, although he didn't actually work as an employee. I sent him to school, but he ran away. I took on a number of home tutors at the hotel suite until I eventually got my own apartment, and he stayed put. His command of English grew, and he helped me with Mandarin. He then soaked up other languages, as well as science, maths, history. He was phenomenal.

I bought a scaffolding company first, it was a business I knew. I dealt fairly with people but was strict and took no prisoners when crossed. I made sure that every company I took over, and there were many, the staff that I wanted to keep also became shareholders and shared in the profits. I attracted the best workers and my stock rose higher than ever. I didn't bribe anyone, so I was able to undercut less scrupulous competitors' prices. I understood the value of training and safety and continually overhauling and replacing equipment and procedures. I built up a good reputation for getting the job done well, on time and on price. A reputation of getting things done without fuss or favour goes a long way in business. To the efficient businessman, it made sense to know I was worth doing business with.

I bought a construction company next, then architects, glaziers, a recycling plant, a road-building and repair company. I invested about 50 million pounds in China and in five years turned it into a multi-billion pound group. I employed about 50,000 staff in time, all becoming fellow shareholders, as well as a number of enthusiastic investors. I made friends in high and low places and three years ago was granted Chinese citizenship, an honour. Finally I could lose my old identity and I burned my fake British passport with some ceremony.

By this time I had employed Billy's parents at my country house. There was plenty of room so I constructed a separate house in the grounds for Billy's parents and grandparents, so they were spared the grinding poverty which they had endured all their lives. It was Billy that suggested I adopt him as his son, he was virtually living that role anyway, and had easily talked his parents into it, I was the last one to know.

It didn't take long to arrange and, as I was eager to change my name, Billy suggested William, so I would be Bill Senior and he'd be Bill Junior, what could be simpler? I had always hated the name Marcus, preferring simply Mark, so I retained Mark as a second name, but what surname should I opt for? Billy suggested that, too, he really is a smart boy, smarter than his old new Dad, that's for sure. He didn't know my history, what I was running from, nobody in my new life did, but he knew a woman was involved, a woman who I loved enough to give up everything for and move halfway around the world to forget. I told you he was smart, didn't I? He suggested the full moniker of William Mark Antony. Billy was studying history and he thought Mark Antony, who had taken on the might of the greatest civilisation in the world for the one woman he loved, even though she cheated on him with every ruler who came visiting. I was happy with it, and the name actually looked cool in Chinese script.

On the plane I dozed for a while. I woke with a start and saw that Carol was no longer on my lap and my erection had fortunately subsided, it clearly wasn't as subconscious as I had thought, maybe I would have to look up a Melbourne escort agency sometime soon. It could wait, though, it had been over five years and I had persuaded myself that I didn't miss it, much.

Sitting in the seat next to me was Carol, with Billy stretched out asleep in her lap, his sweet head on her beehive breasts. Carol was awake and put a hand to her lips, mouthing "Shhh!" She looked happy and relaxed and very beautiful. I indicated I was going to the loo and got up to head towards the toilets.

When I got back, Billy had woken from his snooze and still sitting on Carol's lap, jabbering away to her as if they were affectionate aunt and favourite nephew and known each other all his life. I sat down and contributed the odd sentence. I trusted Billy implicitly, although he appeared to be chatting about all manner of subjects, he knew how sensitive I was about my past and how desperate I was to maintain a distance from anyone connected with it. I listened to his excited talk about scuba diving and about Beijing and Egypt and mentioned several other places I know for a fact he had never been to, but when Carol probed about where he had come from and where they were going, he gave nothing away. Smart kid.

I listened to him as he enthused about our recent sojourn in London, the shops and tourist spots, without mentioning that I had taken him to Birmingham and shown him my mother's grave and where I grew up and went to school and worked all those years.

Billy told Carol how he was looking forward to seeing the Great Barrier Reef on our vacation without mentioning our luxury yacht and crew recently sailed from our previous berth in Monaco, next to the smaller yacht I maintained there for the Australian winter. He told her about his life in China and how we had handed over our apartment to new tenants just a few weeks ago, without mentioning our country estate, which we would be revisiting regularly during scholastic holidays. He certainly didn't mention his new school or our new home in Melbourne. Billy wasn't a liar, but he was a born raconteur who was able to twist the truth to suit the circumstance. I loved my son, in so many ways he was a chip off the old block. As far as I was concerned, he was my son and he regarded me as his Dad, a lucky boy with another father, just as important to him at home. Billy had the best of all worlds and who could deny a child exactly what he deserves?

The plane was over Australian airspace and was about to descend to Sydney airport. Carol returned Billy's seat to him and I stood up to let her out to go back to her own seat. As we stood in the aisle she pulled me close to kiss goodbye and hoped we would not stay strangers any longer. I took the address she thrust into my hand and put it in my pocket without looking at it. As we held each other again as a final goodbye she whispered that she was being met at the airport and would I speak with someone who loved me more than anyone in the world? I hesitated. I didn't want to see Bob any more than I wanted to confront Satan. I thought I might not be able to control my feelings, actions even, I didn't think that would be good for me or for Billy to see me if I lost it, so I said

"I don't think I can see Bob or anyone from my past, Carol, I am still in pain, more so today than I thought I was."

"Dearest Bill," she said, gazing into my eyes, "we are all in pain over what happened. I love Bob with all my heart, but he is broken-hearted over what he did and through his lack of judgement allowed you to see. It really wasn't his fault, he was angry and lost and full of hate at that moment, and no-one can hate for long and stay sane." Carol shook my shoulders. "Bob needs to repair the damage with you before he can think about repairing himself, us even. Please reconsider and we will be waiting for you if you do change your mind." Then she walked away back to her berth, presumably with the aircrew.

Chapter 2. Landing

Billy and I were originally going to use our new Australian passports to ease our way through Customs, but didn't want to risk Carol using her contacts to access our information. We had flown to and from London on our Chinese passports, to avoid any chance of discovery by my old family. I started to mention this to Billy until he grinned broadly and showed me the Chinese passport already in his hand. I shouldn't have been surprised, he's usually one step ahead of me.

I never have any trouble at Heathrow, being a Westerner with a Chinese passport, but the Sydney boys decided to shake me down this time. I wondered if Carol had had some influence, there, but no, surely the lovely Carol wasn't the vindictive kind. Customs soon found my Australian passport, along with Billy's, in a more than thorough search, I should say dismantling, of my luggage. Billy wasn't actually detained and he went through to wait with my boat skipper who I had arranged to fly down from Queensland on a charter plane to meet me.

I never before saw the point of owning a transcontinental Lear jet, as commercial flights were so efficient, however at that moment I was considering looking into the possibilities in the very near future.

Of course Customs found nothing, although they tore through every lining of my once-beautiful bespoke crocodile leather luggage. I was subjected to ordeal by sniffer dog, the belt and braces of body scan and body cavity searches by someone who clearly enjoyed their job. But I bore it all with fortitude, I had experienced the first 16 years of life with the abuse by my Dad, these Customs' Johnnies were pussycats by comparison.

I had all the time in the world. My son, my skipper, my charter flight and lovely boat weren't going anywhere without me and by the time I left the detention centre, which the Australian branch of my construction company had built two years ago by the way, Carol and Bob would be long gone and I could get on with the rest of my life untroubled by the baggage of my past.

I cheerfully waved the officers a fond farewell as I wheeled the wreckage of my luggage through into the cavernous Arrivals hall. I wasn't even upset that Customs had selected for me the trolley with the worst wonky wheel in the airport which refused to travel in a straight line. I remained quite stoic, even though it was actually somewhat uncomfortable to walk after the thorough examination I had undergone. By this time of night the majority of incoming flights were long gone and the Arrivals hall virtually empty except for those waiting for stragglers and the final sparsely-occupied flights of the night. I could see Billy and Skip waving from the end of the barrier and I pushed my wayward trolley in their general direction. Billy jumped up and gave me a welcome hug, then Skip slapped me on the back and took over control of the trolley and almost immediately began the task of transferring the untidy bags to a more serviceable conveyance which he pulled across from a nearby trolley park.

Then a voice from the past said "Hi Mark, how are you doing?"

I turned to confront Bob, my one-time best friend, who had connived and lied and cheated me out of happiness. How was I doing? Outwardly I was still calm, inside I was seething. Not with hate, I believe I am beyond that now, I will never succumb to that emotion again. Sadness and regret, certainly these emotions flooded through me, threatening to unbalance my equilibrium.

I loved this man once, as a boy he was my protector, in youth and adulthood he was my constant friend that I could rely on even when my marriage was on the rocks and filled with despair and self-loathing at my surrender, my weakness. Bob was my lifesaver, until the last time I saw him when in the blink of an eye he had conveyed the instrument that ended my life on the day of my father's funeral.

The letter he carried on behalf of my father was designed to make me realise that my whole life had been a lie, my very existence had been a plaything for my Dad's gratification. My life wasn't so much about choices I made or the chance of fate, win some lose some, it was a fiction, a plan executed by a madman who wanted to destroy at a stroke every dream I hoped to fulfil. My life had become a fabrication like a house made of playing cards, with Bob the messenger who pulled out the keystone to bring the whole pack crashing down and destroy my previous life forever.

How could I confront Bob with a calm, even timbre to my voice, a face impassive, body language both open and unconcerned? How could I speak to him without balling my fists or biting my tongue? Through discipline and the distaste of giving him any satisfaction that his presence caused me the slightest unease, that's how. I drew breath and took comfort that Billy was here, too, a better and more loyal friend to me than I probably deserved.

"Hi, Bob."

I felt no need to ask him how he was. I could see at a glance he was changed in the last five or so years. He was always tall dark and handsome. He was still tall, but his thinning hair was cut very short, revealing a shiny pate in his crown which almost met up with his receding widows peaks. His brush-cut dark hair was brindled with more grey than black. He was much fuller figured and particularly fat in the face, his flaccid cheeks an unhealthy red rather than the brown glow he had in his youth. His face was lined with wrinkles that weren't all laughter lines, the stresses of a life he could not quite cope with. His wife had aged much more elegantly than he had.

Last time I saw him he was barely conscious. No doubt had he been sober he would have delivered his real father's letter with his bold arrogant face holding a smile more like a sneer of contempt for me and of triumph that he was the messenger chosen by his master to destroy me, knowing that the message came from the grave and his victory over me was complete.

Today, Bob did not sneer, he had no look of smug victory, the smile hovering on his lips was uncertain, contrite even, like a puppy aiming to please but who just had been unable to get out of the house before defecating.

I had seen that look before, on staff or managers full of apology for losing a contract because the tender was not completed to the standard I expected, or an accountant bringing bad news about an investment or transaction that had turned out less than satisfactory. I had treated each of these situations as they arose, each on their own merits, consoling where needed, acting decisively if possible or offering solutions which could be delegated allowing everyone involved to maintain the dignity they deserved.

Robert wanted forgiveness. It was the only thing he needed for his piece of mind. It was the one thing I could give easily, I had already conquered the hate generated by that awful letter. I had experienced Reggie's hatred of me throughout my childhood, survived it, even thrived in spite of it. I had no hate left in me, only pain, and forgiveness is the only salve that could ease Bob's pain. How could I deny my old buddy that one gift that could be given at little cost to me but immeasurably valuable, perhaps life changing to the man standing in front of me. What right did I have over anyone to deny them the right of peace of mind, of closure, possibly even revitalisation? I was not, never was and never will be, my father.

That night over five years ago the life I knew was suddenly ended. I was given a chance to do something which shook me out of that limbo I had found myself in. I was granted the opportunity to leave it all behind me, get a new identity, even a couple of new countries to owe allegiance to. I was able to build a new life, lost myself in hard work, learning to put my trust in people who turned out to be extraordinary with that trust. I had learned to love again, in Bill Junior I found someone who I could build a future with and nurture as any normal father would their favourite protege, not to seek to belittle or even destroy him as my father had tried to do to me.

I didn't hold out my hand to greet Bob formally, instead I stepped forward and put my arms around his massive shoulders and clutched him to me. I didn't say anything, I didn't have any thoughts that I had the language to express in words, nothing that would be even remotely appropriate. An embrace is worth a thousand pictures.

Bob buried his head in my neck and silently wept, his shoulders, fully three or four inches above mine, shook in line with his sobs. I patted him on the back, silently letting him leach his pain as I had done myself so long ago. I let him have time, it had taken a long time for me to heal, too and I wasn't sure if I was whole even yet.

I reran in my mind some of those written words of five years ago. They were still shocking even though I had soon accepted them as truth. It was so long ago, it was no longer a part of my present existence, it was almost as if it happened to someone else and I was only aware of it through some ancient unbelievable fable. I had a new life to live to the full, a new family to love and time and peace of mind to grow comfortable in.

Bob's broad shoulders ceased their vibrations and he began to unwind his embrace. In response I also relaxed my grip somewhat. From out of nowhere Carol joined us laughing, embracing the pair of us and showering us both with bucketfuls of tearful, joyful, relieved kisses.

I really couldn't help but throw my head back then and laugh out loud with them and kiss them both just as joyfully. All that tension melted away and Robert looked much more animated, much more like the Robert I remembered in good times. I had missed my mate Bob and all through my life, except for that one fateful day, I had always thought he was there rooting for me.

Bob and Carol embraced and kissed each other and cried and laughed, lost in their own unrivalled love for one another and I stepped away to give them their own space in that vast hall. Looking at them I felt a warmth within me that relaxed the tension that had built up in my shoulders and I took pleasure from just observing them sharing their happiness and release.