AUTHOR'S NOTE:  Events in the following chapters occur between the episodes 2 and 3 of Season 7 of Spooks/MI5.

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As she emerged from Hammersmith station, Alexa wrapped her scarf around her neck, shoved her hands into her coat pockets and began her 20-minute walk towards Liam’s boarding school.  She could easily have taken her car, but since Liam’s admission into St. Barnabas School for Boys a year earlier, she preferred to take the Tube to Hammersmith and walk the rest of the way, except for the Fridays when she’d pick him up after school. 

The walk cleared her mind and except for bone-chilly mornings such as this, the walk served as a reminder that long after her six months spent in Moscow as a prisoner, she still felt like one. 

Before succumbing to cancer almost seven years ago, Alexa’s father had made arrangements for Liam’s future without consulting her, considering her too traumatized and too immature to even be told of his plans.  He had assigned his close friend, Harry Pearce, to oversee the arrangements he had made for his grandson, and for years Alexa had assumed that the arrangements could easily be changed according to her own wishes.  After all, she was Liam’s mother.

But Alexa could only remember with bitterness the day she realized that Nathaniel George’s missives were to be followed to the letter, that his grandson be admitted to St. Barnabas School for Boys, a prestigious boarding school that had existed since the 1600’s.  There were other directives, too, but she would only know them when the time came. 

Nathaniel George had plotted his grandson’s life to perfection.

Alexa could still remember the day Harry visited her and Liam at the house they shared together on Trevor Square, to talk to her about Liam’s new school path.   It had been an August day, and London was sweltering from a heat wave.

Harry hardly ever came by to see them except once or twice a year, always during Nathaniel’s death anniversary, and a few times during the Christmas holidays.  There were times she would meet Harry for tea at a local coffee shop, but it always felt as if he were simply making sure that she was alright, for his friend’s sake, a promise he had kept long after his friend’s death.  And one thing that Alexa knew about Harry - he always kept his promises.

“You have no choice in this matter, Alexa,” Harry had told her as Liam made his way upstairs to his room to read a book Harry had brought with him as a present:  The Wind in the Willows.  You’ll need that for your entrance tests, he had told the boy.

“What if he doesn’t pass the tests?” Alexa asked.  “What if he fails them all?”  A part of her wished Liam wasn’t such a voracious reader, a boy who enjoyed reading as much as he enjoyed playing rugby or playing video games with the other children in their Chelsea neighborhood.  At seven years old, he was a bright boy with mischievous eyes and an impish grin, his mop of dark hair in dire need of a trim.

Harry pursed his lips, a habit she’d noticed for some time now.  He often did it when he was deep in thought, and  usually they were serious thoughts.  Her father had the same mannerism, and together, the “old fogies” - as her father used to call themselves - would sit by the fire talking about politics and history during their many meetings.  During those times, usually after the dinners her mother would make for them all, the men would retire to her father’s study while Alexa and her mother watched the latest soap on television. 

“He will pass those tests, Alexa.  Besides, the tests are mere formalities.  His admission has been pre-arranged since he was four years old.”  Harry walked towards the fireplace and leaned his hand against the mantelpiece.  “St. Barnabas is a good school, an excellent institution that’s been around for centuries.  It is far better than the public school system and you know it.”

For a few minutes she was silent, her mind chewing away at the new information.  Of course, she knew that St. Barnabas was excellent, if not one of the best schools England had to offer.  Her own father had been a student there and as she herself was a product of boarding school while her parents were out of the country for his embassy duties, Alexa could not offer any objection to Harry’s statements. 

It had only meant that in a month’s time, when school would begin in September, Liam would spend his days and nights away from her, leaving her all alone. 

It was a development Alexa had never expected, not this soon.  Liam had barely turned seven years old and even Harry knew how much the little boy meant so much to Alexa.  Liam was her life. 

“He will be much better off at St. Barnabas, Alexa,” Harry said.  He brought his hands on her shoulders and drew her to his chest and Alexa fought back the tears.  “It’s for the best.”

Before he left, Alexa called Liam downstairs to say good-bye to the man her son knew simple as Uncle Harry.  Liam had never known his grandfather.  Nathaniel had died before Liam turned a year old, though he had pictures to prove that the old man existed.   Harry had always told Liam stories about the great man he’d never met, who loved him and watched over him long after his passing. 

Even now, Alexa could see the collage of pictures the little boy kept on his bedside table.  Among them was one of Harry and her father, Nathaniel cradling Liam as a nine month old baby during one her father’s good days, when the pain from his cancer abated long enough for him to spend an hour with his grandson.

As she had watched the two of them talk that day one year ago, first about some of the books Harry had sent him a few weeks earlier - books she later discovered had been the suggested reading list by St. Barnabas -  then about the new school Liam was going to attend, Alexa felt jealous.  Jealous for the closeness between the two of them, despite the rarity of Harry’s visits with Liam. 

She had always been so close to her son ever since he was born.  She’d slept with him on her bed for years, despite everyone discouraging her from the practice, till Harry himself sat down with Liam, who at that time had been five years old, to tell him that he now had to sleep in his own bed.  For that was what big boys did, Harry had told him. 

And wasn’t Liam a big boy now?

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 St. Barnabas College sat on the south bank of the Thames, its 40-acre property bordered by sprawling meadows and a collection of evergreen and winter-barren trees that hugged the edges of the water bank.  If Alexa had driven her car, she would have made her way through rows of buildings where the students lived and then the tutoring facilities, gray three story structures where lessons were taught.  Then she would have driven past the tennis courts before turning left onto the parking lot. 

This would have been her route on the days when Liam insisted they come over during the rugby games where he could watch the older boys play and still see his classmates during the weekend.  But as she had taken the Tube to Hammersmith and then walked the rest of the way, Alexa climbed up the steps of the main building facing Lonsdale Road and walked past the double doors.

She made her way to the main office and cleared her throat, attracting the attention of an older woman sitting with her back towards her, concentrating on some memo on her computer screen.

The woman looked up and an expression of surprise came over her face.  “Miss George,” she said, getting up from her chair and walking towards the counter to stand opposite Alexa.  “What a surprise to see you today.  Is everything alright?”

It was a Monday morning and all the boys were in their assigned classes.

“I wanted to know who made the change to Liam’s schedule,” Alexa said.  “I was expecting him last Friday but was told that he is now here full time.”

The woman thought for a minute, then a flash of recognition spread across her face as she remembered.  “Ah, yes,” she said, walking towards another computer behind the counter and tapped on a few keys. 

“Liam Nathaniel George,” the woman said softly under her breath, her concentration drawn onto information on her computer screen which she seemed to read aloud, mumbling to herself.

“Yes,” Alexa said, loosening the scarf around her neck.  It was warm inside the office, the heater going on full blast, it seemed.  “Miss Crowell, am I right?”

Linda Crowell, a thin woman with short curly hair, straightened her back and smiled at Alexa, nodding.  “Yes, Miss George.  I’ve met you a few times in the past.  Your little boy is such a delight.”

She returned to her task before the computer and a few moments later, walked towards the printer to retrieve a piece of paper.  She handed it to Alexa. 

“Mr. Pearce came by last Thursday to make the change with the headmaster himself.  Weren’t you informed?”

Alexa read the document in her hand, fighting the urge to crumple it and toss it away.  “I think Mr. Pearce told me but I forgot,” she lied, laughing nervously.  “I’ve been out of town.”

“Ah,” Linda chuckled.  “Totally understandable.  But as you can see, Mr. Pearce changed Liam’s residency status from part-time, where he could come home during the weekends, to full-time.  The assigned days should have been in your welcome packet from last  year, but I can give you another one if you want.”

Alexa shook her head.  “No, no, please don’t bother.  I have it filed in my office so I can just refer to that.”

She folded the paper and slipped it into her coat pocket, afraid that the woman would see how much her hand shook.  The only people who were designated to be Liam’s contacts outside of the school were Harry and herself though it was only Harry and the estate who could make the final decisions regarding Liam’s education and stay at St. Barnabas.  She wondered if Linda could see such information on the computer screen.

“You could have easily called for that information, Miss George,” Linda said kindly.  “It’s quite chilly out this morning.”

Alexa forced a smile.  “I needed the walk, Miss Crowell,” she said.  “I’ve been sitting on planes far too long.” 

The lies seemed to slip from her lips so smoothly that Alexa could only wish they were true.  It would have certainly made more sense to anyone who would have been listening to them right now, she thought. A mother constantly out of town would not have the time to pick up her only son for the weekends.  She was, after all, a single mother.

She wanted to tell the woman how much she missed her son but she didn’t.  The woman did not need to know her pain any more than she needed to know how helpless she really was and that she had no control even in decisions that involved her own son. 

The day after she had spent the night with Lucas, she had gone to St. Barnabas to pick up Liam for the weekend, only to be told that his residency status had changed.  He no longer was able to come home to be with her during the weekends.  Instead, Liam could only come home during the appointed holidays.  But because the admissions office had closed for the week by the time Alexa had arrived to pick Liam up, she had not been able to learn what had prompted the decision.  For two days, she had tried calling Harry, but he had not returned any of her calls.

Alexa walked briskly towards Hammersmith station, her expression cold, her thoughts a collection of jumbled memories of the days when Harry had flown her back to England after six months in Moscow.  They had considered her such a broken creature, unable to care for herself or make decisions all her own, that even after she delivered her healthy baby boy nine months later, they refused to even consider the name she had chosen for him. 

Instead, Nathaniel named the baby himself.  Liam had been his own father’s name, and of course, his grandson had to bear his own name as well.

The anger Alexa had fought to control the past two days now came roaring deep inside her, wave upon wave of righteous anger that made her face feel hot and her breath come out in shallow gasps. And as she made her way to the station, she stopped and looked out onto the street, her eyes scanning the cars driving by. 

Raising her arm, she hailed a taxi and got in.

“Where to, Miss?” A congenial older man with a Scottish accent asked her as she slammed the door shut. 

“Thames House, please,” Alexa replied, loosening the scarf around her neck and leaning back against the seat rest. 

The time for waiting for Harry’s call was over.

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