Page 10 of Savage Protector
“Right, then. Give me five minutes to get out of the shower, then it’s all yours. See you up at the castle.”
She slithers easily from the pool, grabs a towel that had been draped over a poolside chair, flings it around her shoulders, and ambles off towards the changing room.
Despite my best intentions, my gaze tracks her. Ethan is a lucky man, she’s stunning. And…nice. I complete another half a dozen lengths to pass the next few minutes, then I climb out myself. I have a distinct fondness for French toast.
I shower quickly, throw on some clean clothes, then wander up the steep path to the castle forecourt and find myself in the Great Hall. There’s no one here, but the chatter of voices from somewhere beyond, at the end of a stone-flagged corridor, draws my attention. I follow the sound to find myself in the huge castle kitchen where a scene straight from my childhood awaits.
The whole place is crammed with people, at least half of them children. They range from mid-teens to tiny toddlers. The little ones are mostly perched on laps, munching on a variety of kiddie foods. Cereals, boiled eggs, beans on toast. It’s a messy business, but no one seems to mind overmuch.
Ethan is at the stove mixing his eggy concoction in a plastic bowl ready to soak the bread. He glances over, spots me.
“Ah, Zayn. Take a seat if you can find one. Good swim?” He gestures to the table, but I see no spare seats.
“Maybe I’ll just…”
“Over here, mate.” Nico shifts up to make room for me on the edge of a bench seat down one side.
“Ah, ye’re here, lad. Yours is just i’ the oven, stayin’ warm.” A woman of perhaps fifty or sixty bustles from the sink to the huge Aga stove, shoulders Ethan to one side, and brings out a plate of food. “Nice veggie breakfast fer ye, me luv. Mrs Savage said ye’d prefer that. How d’ye like yer eggs?”
“Oh. Er, yes. Thank you.” The food smells wonderful. Baked beans, two hash browns, as promised, mushrooms, half a tomato, fried.
“Fried, poached, or boiled?” she continues, setting the plate before me. “Just leave whatever ye dinna fancy.”
“I’ll have a fried egg, please. This is very kind, I never expected…”
“Mrs Savage telled me ye’d nae be fancyin’ pork, so I left that off. Ye be tuckin’ in an’ I’ll get yer eggs on. Two okay?”
“Yes. Thank you.” I start to eat, still feeling somewhat overwhelmed. Mrs Savage actually remembered.
The lady herself enters behind me, hair still damp and a toddler on her hip. “Hello again.” She smiles at me as she settles the child, a boy of perhaps three years old, on one of the long bench seats beside the table. “Ethan, do you have any eggy bread ready? Seb’s starving, and Zayn fancies a slice as well.”
Ethan deposits a slice of perfectly toasted bread on a plastic plate before the little boy and pauses to kiss the top of his head. “Morning, sleepyhead, and hello to you, too.” His wife receives a rather heartier kiss on her mouth. “Nice swim?”
“Yes. I had company. Zayn joined me.”
I open my mouth to assure him nothing untoward happened, but he forestalls me. “You’ll have worked up an appetite, too, then. She sets a fair pace. Eggy bread, was it?”
And just like that, we move on. I stick a fork in one of my hash browns.
The next half hour is chaotic but good-natured. Children and men wander in and out, some just grabbing food and heading off, others—most people, actually—hanging around to chat. I recognise the doctor, Megan, who took care of me in those early days. The pilot, too, Magda, is here trying to supervise some of the children without much in the way of obvious success.
It’s Cristina who brings matters to some sort of order. “Right, school bus goes in ten minutes. Finish up, get your teeth cleaned, and go fetch your bags. Anyone who’s late is homeschooling with me all day and it’ll be treble maths.”
There’s a mass exodus as they all clatter towards the door and disperse to their various apartments and cottages.
Magda, too, gets to her feet. “I’ll go and do the preflight checks. Excuse me.”
For the first time I notice that she walks with a pronounced limp. I wonder what happened to her.
My comrades from yesterday are all present. Aaron is the last to stroll in, just in time to grab some French toast and a fresh coffee before Ethan summons us all to his office. I swallow the last of my beans and follow the rest of the crowd up to the conference suite.
More freshly brewed coffee is waiting for us there, and some artery-busting pastries. I’m hard-pressed to understand how everyone seems to remain so fit. The gym and pool must be in regular use. I might manage another dip myself later, unless we have to leave fairly soon.
Everyone settles, and Ethan clears his throat to call us to order. He starts with Jack.
“Okay, what did you get at the warehouse?”
“We found our own consignment, still packaged up nicely, so we liberated that. Took a few barrels of Scotch, too. Good stuff, single malt. For our trouble.”
