Now, in the taxi, she was approaching the
airport. Sienna felt sick with excitement. She couldn’t wait to see Braeden

Sienna spent the flight alternating between
herself and Keir’s I-pods. She’d brought them both in her handbag.

Though the flight was tediously long, and she
had to suppress the urge to strangle the couple a few seats away who didn’t
seem to be making any effort to shut their three whining and screaming children
up, Sienna managed to get through it.

Braeden was waiting for her when she arrived in
Greece. Sienna was amazed at the heat and fabulous sunshine.

Braeden had acquired a bit of a tan, and had
discovered the trend of large dark sunglasses.

“Go on, tell me everything!”

Sienna grinned, pulling her own sunglasses out
of her handbag and putting them on. They were nice ones, with rhinestone detail
at the corner of the frames.

“Well, the filming of the movie is going
brilliantly! It’s sort of cool, because the villain, played by me, wins at the
end. It’s sort of a new take on the traditional good verses bad.”

Braeden chatted on and on for ages. He was in
his element.

“How’d that interview go?”

He eventually asked.

“It went okay, but some bits were hard. It was
televised, not written, so they couldn’t change anything I said. They wanted to
know loads about me and Keir’s relationship, quite invasive of our privacy
really. I mean, it was like they wanted to discuss our private life and not
what they’d promised the viewers, the true story of Keir’s death!”

Sienna told Braeden.

They talked about the interview for a while.

“They wanted to know about the sort of
religious towns we came from, and seemed genuinely shocked when I told them
some things. I nicely glossed over the fact that Keir shot your dad. I didn’t
want a murder crawling out of the woodwork!”

Sienna explained in a lower tone of voice.

“Would you ever get back in touch with your

Braeden asked.

“I’m not sure. I sent them my first book. You
saw in the dedications, one was ‘to my parents, your abuse and discouragement
made me all the stronger  and more
determined.’ I bet they burnt it, like my father burnt the first few chapters
of the manuscript when he and my mother found it in my bedroom.”

Sienna told him, sill remembering that most
tragic day of her childhood, the smell of sulphur from the match that had
spread the fatal flame to her writing, the anger in her heart.

“They really burnt it?”

Braeden exclaimed.

“Yeah, totally dismissed it as blasphemy!”

Sienna replied.

“Maybe they’ll have got sick of the religion
laws and left?”

Braeden suggested.

“I doubt it. But maybe someday I’ll write, or
phone. If their number or address hasn’t changed.”

Sienna said, thoughtful.

The End

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