Sold Into Freedom - 5. Chapter 5

Andrew awoke in the familiar embrace of his old room. The softness of the thick flannel sheets against his skin, a sensation he had missed, brought a wave of nostalgia. 'I may roll over and go back to sleep for an hour. I don't need to leave until much later,' he thought, rolling back and forth to cocoon himself further within the warm linens.

After dozing a little longer, Andy squinted as sunlight streamed in here and there, finding spaces in the heavy draperies. What would come that night was in his thoughts, but he felt calm and lazy. The serenity he felt had much to do with his father. He lay there, his heart filled with love and exasperation as he thought about the previous evening with his parents. They chatted about many things, his mother especially digging for information about his love life and looking for grandchildren.

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"Mum, you're going to have to speak to Esme about kids. I'm a long way from that. I don't even have a partner."

Doreen raised an eyebrow. "Yes, well you'll be alone if you're not careful. You need to find a good man. And your sister is working on her career rather than children."

His father had made himself scarce during this part of the conversation, excusing himself to make drinks. He accepted Andrew but didn't like to talk about his romantic life.

"Mum, I'll not be alone. I'm busy with my work as it is. It's why I'm here. I have a meeting tomorrow in the south. I appreciate you and Dad putting me up overnight."

Feeling the coast was clear, Robert MacCabe returned to the living room. "You know you're welcome anytime." He handed Andrew a crystal glass containing two fingers of whisky. "From that place on Lewis you mentioned. Single malt. It's a bit pricey but it's interesting."

"Thanks, Dad." He took a sip. "You're right about it being interesting. It's certainly got its own character. It's like the islands, I think, just as it comes, take it or leave it."

"Well, if you two are going to discuss your whisky, I'm going to retreat to the kitchen and check on our dinner."

Andrew smiled at his mother. "Something smells amazing, Mum."

"Your favourite, mince and tatties, except in the form of a Shepherd's Pie." Doreen smiled at her son and husband and left the room.

Robert sat back on the comfortable sofa. "I shoulda n'er married an English woman!"

Andrew joined his father in a laugh. "Don't let Mum hear you say that."

"Oh, and why not, eh? She's always regretting marryin' a Scot." Robert grinned.

"You've got a great marriage." Andrew picked up his glass and sipped his drink, feeling the warmth of his family's love enveloping him.

Robert partook also and then examined his glass. "Aye, we do. I cannot think of a better life."

"You're lucky."

"Luck? It's n'er luck, lad. It's work. It's thinking of her more than myself, and she's the same." Robert leaned forward a little. The alcohol was loosening him up. "Makes me angry, so many marry and then divorce, like they are returning a wrong-sized jumper. Marriage is work. You remember that."

"Aye, Dad, I will." Andy smiled at his father. "I've had a great example in you and Mum."

"I hope so. We did our best for each other and you kids."

The two men were quiet for several minutes before Robert spoke again. "Your mother tells me you're working on another book. What's this one about?"

Andrew placed the cut crystal glass down on the coffee table. He looked at his father. "This one isn't fiction."

"No?" Robert's eyebrows arched. "Non-fiction? That's a departure from your usual. What prompted this change? Your fiction has always been so well-received."

Andrew's lips twisted. "Hmmm, I wanted a change. I want to show that I can write seriously. Mainly to myself."

"I'm surprised you're saying that. Your work is serious. You're not writing pulp." Robert glanced at his son. "Even I know there is nothing easy about writing a good, solid mystery."

"Thanks, Dad." Andrew picked up his glass, staring down at the rainbow within the crystal. "I guess I just want to help somehow. Writing this book may help someone."

"What are you writing about?" Robert leaned forward, resting his arms on his thighs. The mention of a new, serious project piqued his curiosity.

"Human trafficking."

"What?" Robert spluttered into his glass. "That is serious stuff."

"Yes, it is." Andrew glanced at his father's face, then towards the kitchen. "There's nothing to worry about, Dad."

"Isn't there?" Robert stared hard at his son and said, "I know you, Andrew. You forget that. I know the kinds of things you get up to when you are trying to solve something."

"Dad, don't bring that up. My God, that was years ago!"

Robert smiled, enjoying teasing his son. "Two days missing when you were eleven years old. You'd packed a bag, your tent, pilfered some food, and took a bus to Pentland Hills Park hunting for proof of the white stags and Robert the Bruce."

Andrew both laughed and groaned at the memory before facing the present situation again. "This is a bit more serious than that, and I cannot take a bus or food with me."

"What are you telling me?" The smile slipped from Robert's face. He, too, glanced at the kitchen and lowered his voice. "What are you going to do? This isn't a little boy's camping trip, is it?"

"No, Dad. It isn't. I'll tell you because someone needs to know where I'm going and who I'm meeting with." Andrew swallowed the last of his drink. He got up and went to the sofa and sat beside his father.

Andrew proceeded to explain everything to his dad, who remained quiet. At the end of the explanation, Robert got to his feet and poured a second drink for each of them. As he set the glasses down, he looked at his son. "I'm going with you."

"Dad, you can't."

"Aye, I can and I will." Robert retook his seat. He gripped Andrew's forearm. "There is no way this side of Hell you're going alone boy. We'll look tonight for a B'nB for me close by. If there's none, I'll sleep in the damn car. We'll drive down tomorrow afternoon. Get settled. Then I'll drop you at Green End's Gully and you'll wait for your meeting. We'll get you a cheap mobile phone. You can hide it in a plastic bag under a rock, and when you're back, you will call me and I'll come for you."

"Dad, I have a second phone for—"

"Damn it, Andy! We'll get a cheap throwaway for this. Get rid of the other one. You should have done already!"

Andrew could see his father was serious. He'd been a soldier all his life, and in his heart, nothing had changed. Arguing will not help. "Alright, Dad all right. To tell the truth, I feel a bit out of my depth."

"I'm not surprised, boy!" Robert squeezed his son's shoulder. He continued his voice now an urgent whisper. "These people are not like you and me. To them, people are commodities, things. Whether the people they buy and sell live or die doesn't matter; they are dangerous, pure and simple."

"Aye, I know, Dad. I'm following the agreement to the letter. I know it's no guarantee." Andrew eyed his parent. "To be honest, I'm not sure why they are doing this. I've thought about it a lot."

"What do you think is the reason?" Robert drew and released a cleansing breath. "You're right. They have no reason to let you in. They'd have to be completely twisted to think your spin will put them in a better light."

"I'm not sure, but I've spent several years trying to get close and be part of the scene. That may be part of it. They know what I do, but I haven't told them I'm writing a book about them."

Robert shook his head. "Someone doing someone a favour, probably. It's asked and answered so often the why of it is forgotten. D'ya think this Mr. Black will ask you?"

"I'm not sure." Andrew swallowed his drink. "I think I'd just tell him the truth; it's research for my next book."

His hands slipping behind his head, Robert interlaced his fingers and pursed his lips. "I think that's likely the best option. Don't lie. Men like Mr. Black, and his ilk, can easily spot lies."

At that moment, Doreen returned to the living room. She was drying her hands with a white and red-striped tea towel. "Who is Mr. Black?"

After a glance at his father, Andrew said, "A character in my book."

Doreen noticed the quick look between them as she placed a small tray of canapes on the coffee table. "Help yourself, dinner won't be long." She perched on the edge of her chair. "You've not said much about your next book, son. What are you writing about?"

"Oh, it's a story about a victim of human trafficking." Andrew swallowed. "I'm still researching before I start to write." He picked up a stuffed mushroom and popped it into his mouth. "Oh, Mum, this is delicious."

Doreen smiled. "I'm glad you like them."

"I love these myself." Robert picked up a woven wheat cracker with cream cheese and dill. He chewed briefly and then said, "Mmm, my love, I've told Andy I'll go down to Green End's Gully with him. D'ya mind?"

She looked at each of them, her eyes filled with concern and curiosity. The look on her face betrayed her thoughts. They're not telling me everything. "No, of course, I don't mind. It would be nice for you two to get away together."

"You are a peach, my love. Thank you." Robert smiled at his wife. "I found a copy of that film you wanted to watch, darling—that one with the Dr. Who actor. I thought we might watch it together after dinner."

"Oh, that's nice. Thank you." Doreen continued, "I went into the Corner Bakery and got a Battenburg cake today. We can have that and some fruit with our coffee in front of the telly."

Andrew nodded. "Been ages since I had Battenburg."

"Really? Doesn't Maeve make that for you? She's a rather good cook."

"She is but she doesn't make too many sweets for me. At my request." Andrew looked down at himself. "I don't get enough exercise and it's too easy to put on the pounds."

Doreen smiled. "Well, once you're married, then you can eat cake."

Andrew rolled his eyes while absently running his hands over his flat stomach.

Robert grinned and changed the subject. "Is dinner ready, my love?"

"Yes. Would you open the wine, Robert, please? I left that lovely Portuguese Pinot on the side," Doreen said.

"Is that the last bottle?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so. They may sell it in the shops."

Robert rubbed his hands together. "I was thinking we should take a tour of Portugal and its wine instead. Bring some back with us."

Doreen smiled. "That sounds like a lovely idea!"

Andrew enjoyed watching his parents interact. I hope to have a relationship like theirs one of these days. His thoughts briefly slipped to Tony. I need to deal with our non-relationship. It's not what I want.

Robert clapped his son on the shoulder. "Come on. Let's get to dinner. The wine Mum is talking about is an amazing red. You need to try it."

"Right, Dad."

The two made their way into the dining room while Doreen went into the kitchen.

Robert uncorked the wine. "It's much nicer if you leave it to breathe for a few minutes before pouring." He set the bottle down on the table. "Is everything okay, son?"

"Yeah. I'm just a bit on edge about the meeting tomorrow."

Robert sat down at the head of the table. "You don't have to go. Maybe you shouldn't."

"I have to go. People are suffering every day and the least I can do is go to this meeting."

"That sounds rather selfish, not altruistic, I'm afraid. You're not going to help them; in the long run you're only helping yourself." Robert watched for Andrew's reaction.

Andrew opened his mouth and closed it. Shit. He's right, and this is for my book. How will it help anyone but me?

Robert continued, "There's nothing wrong with that, Andy. Writing is your living, and your book may help people understand what's going on. With enough people aware and speaking up, things change." Robert reached over and patted his son's arm. "If you feel in your gut that this meeting is a bad idea, then don't go."

Watching his father leave to help in the kitchen, Andrew considered his words. No, I need to do this for the book. I need the book to be correct and honest. So people will understand what human trafficking is and its scope in our world that people are kidnapped and sold for sex, menial work, and worse.

His dad's voice pushed away Andrew's thoughts. "This looks wonderful, darling."

"Thank you. Let's hope it tastes the same." He could hear the happiness in his mum's reply.

Robert returned to the dining room and placed the Shepherd's Pie on the hot pad while Doreen put down a bowl with cabbage and a second with beets.

"That looks great." Andrew smiled at his mother.

"Let's eat," said Robert.

Once dinner was over, Andrew and Robert cleaned up and loaded the dishwasher. Doreen left to go to a meeting of the Ladies Auxiliary at the church.

Robert led the way to the small room he and Doreen had developed into a library and office. "Let's go see if I can book some accommodation for a couple of nights."

"A couple?"

"Aye, you're due back Thursday, mid-morning?" Robert sat at his desk, opened his laptop, and waited for it to boot up. "You don't know what shape you'll be in. Best if we stay over and come back up on Friday."

Andrew was shaking his head. "I'll be fine. I told Maeve I'd be back before then."

"Well, we will play it by ear then, eh? And there is a telephone on Eilean Gaothach, is there not? You can always ring Maeve and let her know you're okay with your Papa." Robert sat grinning at his son.

Andrew rolled his eyes. "Fine ... Papa. But nothing is going to happen."

Robert typed and then looked up over the top of the computer. "You have no idea, really, what you will see or anything else for that matter. If something upsets you or you're hurt, do you want to be explaining that to your mother? Because she will know the instant you walk in the door that something's not right." His voice carried a hint of vulnerability, a father's fear of being unable to shield his son from the world's harsh realities.

"Yeah, she would." Andrew considered his father's wisdom, a silent acknowledgement passing between them. "Father and son time, it is then."

"Ah, I love it when someone actually listens to me!" Robert chuckled, his eyes bright with pride and amusement.

Smiling, Andrew watched his father. It was a moment of clarity when he could see his father for the man he was. It was not macho, but the maleness and the deep-seated need to love and protect what was his. His love was not the same as his wife's, but it was as profound and abiding.

"Found something, not too far from the Gully. I've booked it."

His father's words roused Andrew from his thoughts. "Great." He smiled at Robert. "Thanks for doing this, Dad."

"Aye. It's the right thing, Son." Robert closed the laptop. "Now, while your mother is out, d'ya care for a wee dram?"

"Good idea, Papa."

Robert laughed. "Numpty."

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Andrew rolled onto his back and put his hands under his head. The fresh, dark roast coffee aroma that drifted into his room pulled him from his remembrances to the present. That's Mum, up with the birds. He thought about his recent choices and what was soon to come. This night was one over which he had no control. The fact it could also be his last was not lost on him. For now, I'm glad to be where I am. Thank God for both of them. I'm ready to get up and face the day.

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