After Private’s owner had gone, Pope and Hooligan got up to leave as well. ‘We are off to the pub, then,’ Hooligan said. ‘Highlights of the entire Olympic football tournament to watch.’
‘We?’ Knight said, arching his eyebrow at Pope.
The reporter slipped her arm around Hooligan’s waist and smiled. ‘Turns out we share a lot in common, Knight. My brothers are all football-mad lads as well.’
Knight smiled. ‘There’s a certain symmetry there.’
Hooligan grinned and threw his arm around Pope’s shoulder. ‘Think you’re right about that, Peter.’
‘Bloody right,’ Pope said and they departed, laughing.
The nurses followed and Knight was left alone in the hospital room with his children. He looked up at the television for a moment and saw a shot of the Olympic flame still burning over London. After Lancer’s death, Jacques Rogge had asked that the flame should burn on a while longer, and the government had immediately agreed.
It was, Knight decided, a good thing.
Then he let his attention dwell on Luke and Isabel, thinking how beautiful they were, and thanking the gods for saving them from a cruel ending.
He sighed, thinking of how his heart had fallen apart when Isabel and Luke had both wished for a new mother, and again when Elaine had told him how proud Kate would have been of him.
Kate. He missed her still and thought morosely that maybe she had been his singular mate, the one and only love that fate had in store for him. Maybe it was his destiny to go on alone. To raise the children and …
A knock came at the door and an American woman’s cheery voice called softly from out in the hall, ‘Mr Knight? Are you in there?’
Knight looked towards the door. ‘Yes?’
A very beautiful and athletic woman slipped in. He knew her immediately and tried to get to his feet, whispering, ‘You’re Hunter Pierce.’
‘I am,’ the diver said, smiling brightly now and studying him closely. ‘Don’t get up. I heard you were injured.’
‘Only a bit,’ he said. ‘I was lucky. We were all lucky.’
Pierce nodded, and Knight could not help but think that she was dazzling up close and in person.
He said, ‘I was there at the Aquatics Centre. When you won gold.’
‘Were you?’ she said, pressing her fingers to the small of her neck.
Knight’s eyes were watering and he did not know why. ‘I reckon it was the finest example of grace under pressure that I’ve ever had the honour of witnessing. And the way you spoke out against Cronus, forcefully, consistently. It was … well, simply remarkable, and I hope people have told you that.’
The diving champion smiled. ‘Thank you. But all of us – Shaw, Mundaho, all of the athletes – they sent me here to tell you that we thought your performance last night outshone us all.’
‘No, I …’
‘No, really,’ Pierce said emphatically. ‘I was there in the stadium. So were my children. We saw you fight him. You risked your life to save ours, and the Olympics, and we, I … I wanted to thank you in person from the bottom of my heart.’
Knight felt emotion welling up in his throat. ‘I … don’t know what to say.’
The American diver looked over at his children. ‘And these are the brave twins we read about in the Sun this morning?’
‘Luke and Isabel,’ Knight says. ‘The lights of my life.’
‘They’re beautiful. I’d say you’re a blessed man, Mr Knight.’
‘Call me Peter,’ he said. ‘And, honestly, you can’t know how grateful I am to be here and to have them here. What a blessing it all is. And, well, to have you here too.’
There was a long moment when they were both looking at each other as if they’d just recognised something both familiar and long forgotten.
Pierce cocked her head, and said, ‘I’d only meant to pop in for a bit, Peter, but I just had a better thought.’
‘What’s that?’ he asked.
The American diver smiled again, and then affected a corny British accent, saying: ‘Would you fancy me wheeling you out of here down to the café? We can have a spot of tea and catch up while your little lovelies are off sailing in the Land of Nod?’
Knight felt flooded with happiness.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Yes, I believe I’d like that very much.’
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James Patterson
