After a decent interval he sticks his head round the door. The room is now spick and span. He tells them to get dressed as they're going out in half an hour. The girls give cries of pleasure and rush upstairs, Aranya moving slightly more gingerly than normal. Amazingly, they reappear within half an hour. They are dressed in their 'going out' clothes - short skirts and high heels.
Mac laughs and opens the front door. "What do you see?"
They look puzzled. "Nothing."
He hands Sunita the car key. "Go and open the car, please."
She takes the key and steps out. Two steps across the grass and she catches her heel in a hole, stumbles and nearly falls. She takes a few more unsteady steps but is clearly having trouble walking over the grass in her heels.
"Do you think your sister is coping?" he asks Aranya.
Reluctantly Aranya has to concede that Sunita is having some difficulty. Mac calls Sunita back.
"Okay," he says. "I think you get the point. Spiky heels and mini-skirts are fine for the town but not here. The idea is that we don't want to be noticed. Go and change and," he pauses dramatically, "if I think you're suitably dressed, I'll buy you lunch. If not, it will be straight out and back and you'll wait in the car while I do my errand. Got it?"
The girls scamper off and soon return in jeans and tops and flat shoes. The jeans fit like second skins and the slinky tops seem to mould themselves around young breasts but Mac nods approval. Delighted, they skip to car.
Deliberately avoiding the nearest habitation, Mac drives them to town some way away. Spotting a post office, he stops to post his package and then looks for a suitable restaurant. He reminds his charges that, this being a country town, there will be no five-star restaurants and that Sunita is obviously underage for drinking. The girls exchange glances at this which he notices but doesn't understand. He also reminds them, in no uncertain terms, that they are to be inconspicuous. Any misbehaviour and he will have no hesitation in abandoning the meal and returning to the cottage.
"The story is," he finishes, "that you are my nieces and we are going to visit relatives in Birmingham. Got that?"
He spots a reasonable looking pub displaying a 'children welcome' sign and he takes them in for lunch. Despite being 'dressed down' girls still manage to attract a distressing amount of attention - they are, after all, both lively and beautiful. Mac finds the meal a torment. He cannot relax and his attention is constantly switching between the girls antics and the activity in the dining room. He makes a firm resolution not to leave house again.
It is with much relief that Mac pays the bill and they return to the car. He sets out in opposite direction from the cottage. Immature and spoilt they may be but the girls are not stupid. They realise this is not the way home and demand to know where he's taking them now.
"Home," he teases, secretly quite pleased that they've noticed.
"Oh, good," says Sunita. Aranya is more suspicious.
"Which home?" she demands.
"The cottage."
"But that's in the opposite direction," squeals Sunita, thinking he was taking them home to London.
"I know, but we said we were going to Birmingham and Birmingham is this way."
"But why?"
"Because if anyone was watching they'll be able to confirm that we really are headed for Birmingham."
"Oh," says Sunita.
"You really are paranoid aren't you?" Aranya says, suddenly thoughtful.
"I have been told your lives could be in danger and it is my job to protect you. So, until I can prove otherwise, I'm going to behave as if it is true and take all the precautions I think necessary."
"So it's really true then?"
"What?"
"What Dad said?"
"I don't know what your Dad said so I can't comment."
"He's been awfully worried recently. Very nervous about something but he wouldn't say what. And he packed Mummy off to France. She was very upset. Didn't want to leave us but he made her go anyway. Then he told us we were going to stay in the country. He wouldn't be swayed no matter what we said or did. We were rather beastly to him, I'm afraid. Poor Dad."
"Well, I don't know what the problem is but your father does seem to be very concerned. That's why he asked me to look after you."
"How long for."
"He thought about a week."
The girls fall silent.
A few miles outside the town Mac stops to consult a road atlas he found in the house.
"Can you navigate?" he asks Aranya.
"I don't know. I can try."
"Good girl. You'll need to sit in the front, though."
He hands her the map and, as he leans over to show her the route he has planned, he is very aware of her youth, her beauty, her scent, her presence.
She turns out to be a good navigator and they make the journey back to the cottage without mishap. Mac is full of praise for her skills and Aranya positively glows
As they have been good, Mac promises a real dinner. The girls decide to sunbathe. He can see them from the kitchen window. They have changed into shorts which and halter tops. The shorts would get them arrested in public. They barely cover their small cheeks and are so tight they disappear into the crack between. The halter tops are equally small and it is clear that there is nothing beneath them.
Mac watches them for a while, half formed and wistful longings passing through his mind, until a smell of burning reminds him of his duties. He sighs and reminds himself sternly to keep his mind strictly on business.
He finishes making the dinner, sets the table properly with cutlery and linen napkins, and opens bottle of wine. He calls girls and asks them to change for dinner. They look surprised but trot off to do as asked. While they are dressing, Mac takes the opportunity to dash upstairs and put on a shirt and tie. He is beginning to despair of keeping the dinner hot when the girls come down - no, they don't just 'come down', they make an entrance.
They've gone to town with full make-up, jewellery, the lot and look absolutely gorgeous. Mac whistles appreciatively and steps forward to offer them an arm. They look at him in some surprise then, noticing that he has gone to so much effort with the place settings and his own dress, fall into the game. With their arms linked through his, he escorts them to the table and seats them formally. He pours a splash of wine into Aranya's glass. She picks it up, sniffs it and takes a sip to taste it. Then she nods he approval as if she's been doing it all her life - which, he supposes, she probably has. He pours for the girls then goes off to see to the meal.
He brings in starter - it's only pâté with toast soldiers but he has garnished it with parsley from the garden and slices of orange. Aranya, playing the game to the hilt, graciously invites him to join them. They tuck in and the girls pronounce it delicious. The main dish is trout, which he found in the freezer, with frozen green beans and potatoes but again he's taken some trouble to cook and present it properly.
The atmosphere is much more relaxed than it has been. Sunita asks him where he learned to cook and he tells them a long, rambling tale of being stranded on a remote Scottish island with no money for the ferry and conning the local hotel into hiring him as a chef. It's all completely untrue, of course. The simple truth is that he is used to being on his own and enjoys cooking. But he has a droll manner of talking and the girls enjoy it.
They have just finished eating and are sitting back with that 'well-filled' feeling that comes from dining well, when he suddenly tells them to be quiet. Such is his tone of command that they do. On silent feet, opens the front door without putting on any lights and draws his gun. A car approaches. He can see the headlights in the distance. He waits and listens as it draws nearer. It rounds the bend and drives past without slowing down. He continues to stand stock still until he can hear it no more. Only when the last murmurs of its engine have faded into the evening gloom does he quietly go back in and close the door.
In the dining room the girls are sitting wide-eyed and tense. There are unspoken questions in their eyes.
Mac smiles ruefully. "False alarm. I'm sorry. Perhaps I'm just being unnecessarily paranoid."
Aranya puts her hand on his arm and says seriously, "Don't say that. I'd hate to be here on our own. I'm glad you're here. And I'm glad that you're being so careful." She smiles up at him. There is a hint of something more than simple friendship in her eyes. "It's us that should apologise. You're only doing your job and trying to help and we've been perfectly beastly to you. From now on I promise we'll be good and do whatever you say."
He is absurdly conscious of the slim, manicured hand resting on his sleeve. He gives it a pat, wishing he could do more and lift it to his lips and smother it with kisses. A deeper, more cynical, part of him wonders if she really means what she says.
"Thank you," he says more gruffly than he intends. "I'm really only trying to do my best."
The mood of the evening has been broken and Mac suggests they move to the sitting room. He asks if they want dessert - ice cream - but they decline. He makes coffee and they take wine bottle and glasses to other room. There they sit and sip coffee in silence. Mac asks what they'd normally be doing in the evening. Sunita opens her mouth to speak but Aranya cuts in and says they'd be out clubbing. She tells about the best clubs and the top DJs she's seen. Mac knows nothing about the latest music - or any music come to that - but he hears the ring of falsehood in her voice. He grins to himself and thinks that if he can tell a cock and bull story then so can she. However he is beginning to suspect that these young ladies, despite their veneer of sophistication, are not quite what they appear to be. He files this away for future consideration.
"Well, I have to apologise that I can't escort you to the local nightlife," he says. "However, I have my suspicions that the best on offer would most likely involve watching the grass grow by the light of an oil lantern."
This breaks the tension and he is rewarded by laughter somewhat heartier then the quip merited. He explores the cupboards and finds a pack of cards, some board games and a few jigsaw puzzles. He asks them if they play Monopoly. They've never played it but have heard of it and are willing to give it a try. He teaches them the game and they are soon deeply involved. Sunita turns out to be particularly good and soon has her older sister and Mac fighting for survival. Aranya is first out, throwing her last money at Sunita in disgust and accusing her of being an exploitative capitalist. Sunita chortles and says that, at last, she's found something she can do better than Aranya. Aranya goes to the toilet and stands watching them when she returns. Suddenly she bursts out laughing. The others look up as if she's gone mad.
"Here we are," she says between guffaws, "dressed up to the nines in our best frocks sitting in a house in the middle of nowhere playing Monopoly." The others agree that it is a bit absurd. "You know the weirdest thing," she continues. "I'm thoroughly enjoying myself. I feel safe and relaxed and happy."
Mac smiles to himself and says, "Good, I want you to continue to feel that way."
He concedes the game to Sunita and says he's going to lock up and go to bed. Sunita asks about the dishes and he says they can have a night off. He'll do them in the morning. He steps out and does his rounds of the garden. All is peaceful. The sky is clear and the moon is almost half full. An owl hoots in the woods. 'Aranya is right,' he thinks. 'It is peaceful and relaxing here and the girls seem to be finally settling down.' But he reminds himself that he cannot really relax. The threat to their lives may or may not be real but he must behave it as if is was and remain constantly on the alert. Not for one moment can he afford to be anything other than totally professional.
He heaves a sigh and returns indoors. To his surprise, the girls have covered their elegant frocks with large aprons and are busy washing dishes.
"Why, thank you," he says with genuine gratitude. "I really would have done them in the morning."
"It's only fair," says Aranya, "You cooked us such a lovely meal. I've just one complaint, though."
"Just one?" he grins.
"Yes," she says with mock severity. "You are a very messy cook. Did you really have to use every pot in the house?"
"I'm most terribly sorry," he says mock contritely. "I'll stick to boiled eggs from now on."
He grabs a dish towel and helps them. The kitchen is not large and the three are in close proximity. He seems to be always having to squeeze past one or the other to reach a plate or put away a pot. He is acutely aware of their presence, their aroma, their perfect bodies. Even in the homely confines of a country kitchen, they exude an aura of glamour and seduction. He finds he is getting aroused and makes excuse of tidying sitting room to escape. 'You're a fool,' he chastises himself. 'How can you let two wee lassies almost young enough to be you daughters, assuming you had any, get to you like this. You're supposed to be a professional, so act like one.'