It Never Rains in Colombia (17 page)

             
There was an uneasy silence.

             
“Have you spoken to Alejandro?” Harlow asked, trying to understand.              

             
Sophia became sullen, “You don't believe me either?”

             
“I do, I was just wondering.”

             
“No, he's in a coma.”

             
“So what's the rush?” Claire asked.

             
Sophia winced, “I just, I have to see him. I need to know that. I need to see him,” Sophia said this as if Alejandro were a cool glass of water and her mouth was parched. There was a glint of desperation in her eyes and Harlow became silent, realising it would have been futile to try and dissuade her. “One day you'll understand,” she explained, as if Claire were a child who knew nothing.

             
Roberto came back in and sat next to Sophia. He seemed calmer as he said, “I'm coming, too. I told Manuela to pack for me.”

             
There was a knock at the door.

             
“You can't go,” Christian said as soon as Manuela showed him into the living room.

             
“Hello to you, too,” Sophia said coldly as he walked in. “I don't remember asking for your permission.”

             
Christian sat next to her, “Look, it's not safe.”

             
“Nothing’s safe in this world, but some things are worth the risk.”

             
“I know you think I don't care, but I don't want you to get hurt. You're in much deeper than you understand. There is so much that you don't know.” Christian gently took Sophia's hand in his.

             
“Is that why you lied?” she retorted, retracting her hand, “I know he's alive.”

             
“Well, then, you know more than me. I loved him, too, I understand how you feel. Who told you about Alejandro? Whoever it was is lying.”

             
They all looked at Sophia.

             
“My father told me,” Sophia confessed.

             
“You can't believe him.” Claire said.

             
Sophia got up, “I don't want to talk about this.”

             
Christian followed her to the door, pleading with her, “The things your father was involved in, the people he knew, they aren't the type that play games. You'll never be safe,” he said.

             
She opened the door then rounded on him, shouting, “You don't know anything about my father. Don't ever talk about him. Don't you dare!”

             
Christian stopped short, aghast, all the colour drained from his face. He seemed to be seeing the hate in her eyes for the first time.

             
She carried on vehemently, “The newspapers twist things. He's a good man!”

             
Christian continued, determined, “Sophia, listen to me! Your father had a completely different life before you were born. The things he did aren't...”              

             
“What do you know about my family? You don't even have one. You don't know anything about
my
family. You're a nobody, if it weren't for your cousin, I would never speak to you. You're pa—”

             
“Sophie, stop,” Claire cried.

             
“I don't care how you feel about me,” Christian said. He looked worn out.

             
“Don't you?” Sophia laughed cruelly, giving him a knowing look, then turned away slamming the door as she left.

             
When Harlow went into Sophia's room, Sophia was throwing clothes into one suitcase as Manuela packed another. Harlow closed the door. “Why did you bring him here?” Sophia asked.

             
“He's worried about you.”

             
“Hah!” Sophia said.

             
Roberto opened the door, “For once, I have to agree with Christian.”              

             
“And who asked you?” Sophia said, turning her back on her brother.              

             
“What has your father ever done for you?” Roberto asked.

             
“He wouldn't lie.”

             
“Mother always had bad taste in men,” Roberto muttered.

             
“He's just as good as your father. My father's an honest man.”

             
“There are so many of those in prison. I'm glad he's in good company.”

             
“Go away, Roberto.”

             
“I'm just trying to look after you,” Roberto shouted.

             
Sophia threw her Louboutin shoes into the suitcase angrily, then faced him. “I can take care of myself.”

             
“If your father knows Alejandro's alive, he knows you're coming back and they know too,” Roberto said pointedly. “They listen in on prison phone calls. The guards are all on their payroll. It's the type of organisation you can't leave until you're in a coffin.”

             
Sophia's face fell, “I don't care who knows.”

             
“You don't care, you don't care,” he raised his hands in frustration. “Then why did you run away, why come to London?”

             
“To see you,” Sophia said quietly, “Both of you.”

             
“Then don't go, you're our only family now.”

             
“I'm no safer here than I was in Cartagena.”

             
“Why not?” Roberto asked. “Your father's in jail. What would they want with you? Unless, there's something you're not telling me.”

             
“Don't be silly,” Sophia said turning away.

             
Roberto touched his sister’s arm gently, “If you go, we might never see each other again.”

             
Sophia was quiet.

             
When she didn't answer, Roberto's expression hardened. “Forget it, I don't need you,” he said and left.

             
Roberto bumped into Christian in the hallway. “Still listening at doors. Nothing’s changed, then.”

             
Christian sighed, “She's determined to leave?”

             
Roberto walked past him.

             
“Are you going to go with her?” Christian called as Roberto went back to the lounge.

             
“I was, but—”

             
“You should,” Christian insisted.

             
Roberto sat on the sofa with his hands in his head.

             
“She's your sister.”

             
“She's a headache. You better leave before she scratches your eyes out,” Roberto said wearily.

             
“Okay. I'm going.”

             
Roberto looked up from his hands. “Thanks for trying.”

             
Christian knocked on Sophia's door softly, opening it, he popped his head in, not looking at Sophia. “Harlow, I'm going.”

             
Harlow nodded. She had her phone to her ear. “I think you should.” Christian looked confused. Sophia ignored him and he left.

             
Christian passed Claire in the hallway and said his good-byes. Claire was the only one who was sad to see him leave. She gave him a hug and whispered, “I'm so sorry.”

             
When he was gone, Sophia said, “I told you he couldn't be trusted.”              

Harlow listened to the voice mail again, against the background noise from the club she heard Patrick laughing, “She's so easy. An easy target. You would be too if someone knew all of your secrets.”

“
What do you mean?” Amy's voice filtered in over the music.

“
Well, one day, Harlow lost her diary and it magically found Christian.”

Amy laughed, “He wouldn't do that.”

“If you don't believe me ask him yourself.”

“
Oh no. Hi, Sophia, it's Amy. We're near the bar. Give me a call when you get here.”

“
Message end.
To repeat the message, press one. To save, press three. To delete, press seven.”

She hung up. “I have to go,” Harlow said, grabbing her bag and running out.

Chapter 12 – Friday's Girl

             
Friday was a day unlike any other. The bright orb in the sky emitted little heat. The rain fell so slowly that it hung in the air, mimicking a light mist, fooling the city's workers and students as they made their way out that morning. Harlow had stopped writing in the diary the night before. Things had gone too far. The book she confided in had sold her out, like a cheap Mafia rat. It lay uneasily on a pile of her science books. When she shut her bedroom door that morning, the diary tumbled to the ground a foot from her bed. The pages ripped out, the serrated edges ignored, shredded by hands that had pulled at chunks of paper in blind fury. The red book that had once held all her secrets was no more than a worn-out shell of red plastic and metal paper binders clogged with tattered paper.

             
Harlow took the train to school. On the walk up to Rutherfords’ gates, she thought she spotted Christian ahead of her and sped up, taking a different route to avoid him.

             
“She's an easy target,”
the voice taunted her. The memory of that day rose from her mind like a hideous sea monster. Harlow slowed down unintentionally, trying to slap the memory back down. Christian paused at the gates looking around for her, waving eagerly as if all were well.

             
“Harlow!” he called smiling.

             
Harlow walked right past him as though he were a ghost.

             
In class, Harlow greeted Sophia with a hug. “You didn't go?” she asked, sitting down at the desk next to Sophia.

             
Sophia shrugged, “I guess he was wrong.”

             
“Your dad?”

             
Sophia nodded.             

             
“I'm sorry,” Harlow said.

             
Sophia frowned, “It doesn't matter. Life goes on. Hey…” her eyes followed Christian as he came in.

             
“I suppose,” Harlow said vaguely. “He's unbelievable,” she complained under her breath, “walking around acting all innocent.”

             
“You should tell him that you know,” Sophia said, “confront him.”              

             
“No, what good would that do? I don't want to waste another breath on him.”

             
“Seriously.”

             
“Wow,” Mei said, joining them on the row behind. “It's all about solidarity today.”

             
Sophia and Harlow looked at her quizzically.

             
“You guys dressed exactly the same today.”

             
Harlow realised Mei was actually an idiot. “It's called a uniform,” Harlow pointed out with uncommon sarcasm.

             
“Duh,” Mei replied. “I mean your hair, your coats. Seriously, guys, you could be sisters.”

             
Harlow ran her hands across her ponytail self-consciously and automatically said, “She copied me.”

             
Sophia laughed, “You wish.”

             
“That's why we shouldn't shop together.” They had bought matching black coats. “I told you this would happen,” Harlow said.

             
“What happened to alternating days?” Sophia asked.

             
Harlow shrugged, “I don't see why I should have to suffer. You're a star; you have loads of coats. You can always wear another one.”

             
Sophia laughed, “I like this one.”

             
Mr. Hughes cleared his throat and they fell silent as he began taking the register.

              Harlow always wished for rain, even in summer. It was an odd thing to do, considering that it rained almost every week in London. That day she stood at the school's bathroom window, hesitating before opening the window. “Come on,” she whispered. Today she had a specific reason for hoping it would rain. The window sprang open at her touch, revealing the downpour—sheets of water falling silently. “Yes,” she cried, grabbing her bag from the sink counter, hurriedly fumbling to button up her coat and free her umbrella from the chaos of her bag. As Harlow neared the school gates, her heart fell when she saw that Christian was absent from the position he had taken that morning. He wasn't waiting for her. The mystic power of rainfall, which gave her a cloak of invisibility, seemed suddenly unimportant to her. When it rained, people were usually too busy trying not to get wet to pay any attention to others. Students rushed by her in a blur, running for the cover of their cars.

             
“Harlow, Harlow,” someone shouted. She turned back to the school trying to see the girl who had called her. There was no one there. Outside the school entrance, chauffeurs jousted with open umbrellas as they tried to squeeze their charges through the crowd. A yellow umbrella bobbed toward her in the crowd, the sole ray of sunshine in all the gloom. She moved through the crowd of students moving to the gates. The yellow fabric shifted as the umbrella was lifted higher, and she saw Sophia. “Heyo, where have you been?” Sophia didn't wait for an answer. “I've been out here for ages,” Sophia went on.

             
Harlow smiled. “Paul is probably freaking out,” she joked, thinking of the overprotective chauffeur.

             
Sophia shrugged, “I doubt it. He's always super calm and usually on time,” she said, looking at her watch. “I guess he's not perfect after all.”

             
On the walk to the car, Harlow tried as casually as possible to ask, “Where's Roberto?”

             
“Dunno,” Sophia said, “Probably gone by now.”

             
“With Amy?” Harlow asked slowly.

             
“No, with Claire,” Sophia simply laughed. “I thought you were over it.”

             
“I am. I am.” She came to a dead stop, making Sophia bump into her.              

             
“Hey,” Sophia complained, then went quiet, following her gaze.

             
There coming toward them in the crowd was Christian.

             
Harlow whispered, “Can you drop me home today?”

             
“You have to talk to him sometime,” Sophia said. 

             
“Please,” Harlow begged. The rain was falling on her mercilessly, causing false tears to stream down her cheeks.

             
“Here, hold this,” Sophia said giving her the umbrella, “I'll talk to him.”

             
As Christian approached, Harlow grabbed Sophia's arm lightly, holding the umbrella above them both with her left. “It won't make much difference. Every time I see him, it reminds me of what he did. I feel so angry.”

             
Sophia sighed, “Yes, I know, but he doesn't.”

             
She pulled Harlow along just as Christian reached them, “Hey, guys.”              

             
Harlow looked at him and then Sophia. “I'll wait in the car.”

             
“Harlow!” Christian called, looking mystified as she rushed past him, hiding from the rain under the canopy of yellow.

             
She jostled through the crowd and spotted the Jeep parked in its usual place. She got in, closing the umbrella before shutting the door and laid it on the grey-carpeted car floor. The carpet was so lush; she was sorry to see it get soaked by the errant drops that clung to the yellow material. She leaned back onto the soft leather seat as Sophia got in, wondering if she had misjudged Christian. There was a soft click. The car began to move off slowly, then sped up. It moved swiftly down the road. Harlow turned around as the car raced away and saw the school hurtling away from them, becoming smaller and smaller. On the motorway through the darkened windows, she saw the blue flash of lights first, before hearing the sirens. A police car sped past them.

             
“You should talk to him,” Sophia said.

             
The police car overtook the Limo, ahead. The flash of blue returned as two policemen on motorbikes drove up on each side of the Jeep. The policeman on her left turned his head toward her then sped past.

             
“You're the one who told me not to trust him,” Harlow said in disbelief.              

             
Sophia leaned back into the seat, “I didn't mean it like that! Christian's not a bad person, just…” she sighed. “I didn't think he was serious about you. I just didn't want you to get hurt again.”

             
The car turned down the exit toward her house, driving slowly along the roads. Suddenly it swerved round a corner and Harlow was bumped to one side, hitting her head on the window. She cried out in surprise when she heard the dull thud of her skull against the glass. Pain jolted through her. Struggling to sit up, Sophia pressed down on the intercom button on her armrest. “Paul, is everything okay?” 

             
The limo stopped.

             
The front passenger door opened then clanged shut.              

             
“Hello, hello.” It didn't make that crackling sound it had before. The bright-red light was now dim. Sophia leaned forward, knocking frantically on the window. “Paul, hello, can you hear me?” Sophia's face was a mask of pure terror. She tried to unlock the door, desperately.

             
“What's wrong?” Harlow asked, frightened now, trying her own door. She knew something was wrong. She had the worst feeling.

             
The passenger door opened. A burly man grabbed Sophia, dragging her out of the car, covering her mouth with a white handkerchief. Harlow screamed. Pushing her passenger door open, she bolted from the car straight into a wall of a man who restrained her, covering her nose and mouth with a white cloth, filled with chloroform, until she went limp against his black suit.