Time: Present Day
Location: Rome, Italy.

When Monique arrived at Rome airport she was met by a chauffeur holding a placard saying Madam Cheval. She almost missed him because she wasn't used to being met by people outside the family. The chauffeur must have tecognised her somehow because he called out to her as she was about to pass him in a crowd of people that were heading for the baggage claim.

He spoke to her softly as she came up to him, "Bags,  Madam Cheval?"

"No, no I'm not staying. I'm booked on the 6 p.m. flight back to Paris," she explained.

"Ah, so you are my 5 o'clock booking, very good, my name is Henri."

"Pleased to meet you Henri, but I was expecting to cab it."

"Father Michaelus arranged it. It is easier this.way, what with the terrorist threats, it is difficult for a taxi to enter the Vatican these days. This way if you please. Madam," he gestured to a zone outside the front glass doors.

"Please call me Monique, Henri," she offered.

"As you wish Madam, er, Monique, a lovely name. Is it French . . . are you French?" Henri asked as he held open the back door.

"I was, or should I say I am, but I am also an Australian now," She explained sliding into the back seat.

"Lovely," he said.

Monique speculated as to whether he was gay or not, probably, she thought.

They arrived in Vatican City after a short trip. Henri let her out of the limo and escorted her through the visitor's centre where she registered and received a VIP pass.

She was escorted by a young woman, after saying goodbye to Henri, to a lift and taken to the first floor. On the first floor she was met by a young priest who escorted her to a small conference room. On a side table was a water jug and glasses, a fruit and cheese platter and a carafe of orange juice, red wine and white wine.

The young priest pointed to them and said, "Please make yourself at home, I will let Father Raphael, I mean Peter know you have arrived. He will be with you shortly I'm sure of it." He bowed and left her alone in the room.

Monique was thirsty so she poured herself an orange juice. She was only half way through it and had been passing the time studying the many religious paintings and prints on the conference room walls when the door swung open and a tall handsome priest in a white cassock entered. He had certainly changed over the years, put on a bit of weight, but there was no mistaking, it was Peter Margate standing before her, with a quizzical look on his face.

"Hello, Mrs Cheval, how are you?" Peter ventured.

"I'm fine," she lied.

"I must admit I was puzzled when they told me you were in Rome and wanted to see me. I was happy to hear from someone from the past, out of the blue, so to speak. What brings you to Rome? Or more specifically, what brings you to me? I was sort of hoping you might bring Amelia with you,  but I see you've come alone."

Monique was taken aback, surely he means Amanda,  she thought to herself, until Peter continued, "I haven't seen or heard from her in all these years, but I still think about her, and hope she is well. I guess she is married by now, with a couple of kids, did she carry on the family tradition by having twins too? Oh, and that reminds me. I was very saddened to hear that Amanda's son was killed in that shooting in Sydney. I only saw the After Dark program a few times when I was in Melbourne, but I liked the presenters, especially Carter Cheval for some reason. Perhaps because I knew your family when I was young. It was such a waste of talent like that, being caught up in an accidental shooting."

"Peter, I'm so sorry, so sorry about everything. where do I start? You asked why I came to see you, and I am not going to lie to you, there's been quite enough of that already. Peter I came to see you to confess, you see I have breast cancer, Stage 4. The doctor's say I don't have much time left, but then they also thought I wouldn't make it this far."

"I am so sorry to hear that Mrs Cheval, but why come all the way to Rome? Surely you could have gone to Father Dan for confession and saved an awful lot of money . . . no?" Peter said looking at his watch.

"I don't mean to waste your time Peter, but there are a lot of things I need to tell you, to clear the air so to speak."

"Do you want to do it formally in the confessional?" asked Peter.

"It might be safer," Monique replied.

Peter looked at her, a little perplexed and a little angry. He didn't like games, games were a waste of his valuable time. "Alright then, let's go over to the Bassilica."

As much as I'd like to see the Bassilica again, can't we do it here?" Monique said.

"Yes we can. We don't need to be in a confessional to hear your confession," Peter said, "let's begin shall we?"

"Bless me father for I have sinned; It is three months since my last confession. I have lied and deceived all my life. I have lied to you, Peter most of all. Peter, Amelia is dead. She died from a drug overdose in Paris twenty years ago. Peter was stunned into silence. She continued, "Remember, when you two decided to, as they say today, hook up and Amelia got so sick, and Tony went after you?"

"Yes I remember it well. I had done nothing wrong," Peter said dazed.

"It never occurred to me that you might not know, not until now. But how can that be, it was on the news for several days."

"We don't care too much for news of the world inside the seminary," Peter stated.

"Surely Father Dan told you?" Monique said incredulously.

"Dan knew?" Peter asked.

"Yes, of course, he was a great source of solace to me during that time," Monique explained truthfully, "why on earth would he keep something like that from you, it doesn't make sense."

"Not to you maybe, but I think I might know. You see,  he knew how much I loved her, but she didn't love me at all. He was protecting me," Peter said in support of Father Dan.

"What makes you think she didn't care for you Peter?" Monique asked anticipating his answer.

"Because I must have written a hundred letters to her probably two hundred if you count the ones I didn't send, and not one reply, not even a dear John letter. I thought she would have owed me at least that," Peter said, not trying to mask the hint of sorrow in his voice.

"Oh, she loved you alright, when she was better, she wrote to you daily for quite a long time," Monique admitted.

"And where are all these so called letters, I never received one of them."

"They are in a draw in my bedside table, two draws actually. I intercepted all correspondence between you two for years." Peter was starting to realise now, starting to get angry.

"Why would you do such a thing, I thought you liked me?" Peter asked.

"I did, Peter, very much, I mean I do, but when we discovered that Amelia was pregnant, things got a little weird.

"Jean was furious. He wanted to protect the family name at all costs. He wanted her to have an abortion."

"So she had an abortion, is that why she turned to drugs." Peter tried to analyze the horror story he was being told.

"No, she didn't. I spoke to Father Dan and he told me the Church's stance on our situation. That's when we decided to send Amelia away to France so that people at home wouldn't know she was pregnant.  She was to complete her music studies at the Academy and when the time came she was to adopt the baby out in Paris and fly back home. That was the plan anyway. You were in Melbourne, and none the wiser, and that was how it was supposed to stay."

"And did she adopt the baby, whatever it was out?" asked Peter.

"No, when the time came she was adamant that she couldn't give him up. She eventually won her father over. Peter, you and Amelia had a son. She even named him after you, Peter Cheval," she said proudly.

"No, you're lying now. Amelia would never have kept that from me. I know her better than you think. She would have told me, contacted me!"

Peter was furious now, he hated people who tried to manipulate him with lies. He always had, right from back at school when the bullies used to make up stories about him. About his heritage, about where he really came from, that he was really a "wog". All lies. He went over to the to the table, he needed a drink.

He poured himself a wine, he didn't offer Monique one. Damn her he thought. He was taking a large swallow of red wine when she announced, "Carter, Carter Cheval was your son!"

At the mention of his name, Carter was suddenly in the room. As though he had been summoned. He saw his Grandmother was crying. Peter began to choke, he coughed and dropped the glass, red wine hung in the air for a split second then cascaded down the front of his white cassock. It reminded Carter of another time and place only it had been his blood soaking through the white cloth not red wine.

"No, no, please God, no it can't be! It's impossible," Peter cried out in anguish. "You're lying again. I saw that on the news, you can't fool me. Carter was Amanda's son, it was on TV. I saw it. I read about it." He was like a drowning man clutching at straws.

"In a way I wish it were true, Peter but no, Carter was Amelia's son Peter, after Amelia died so suddenly, Amanda convinced us to let her keep Amelia's son. We only agreed after she agreed to change his name and say that the baby belonged to her boyfriend Roger from a previous relationship."

Carter could feel the tension in the room. He could feel that Peter was seething inside.

"Here let me wipe that off for you," Monique said as she started towards Peter with a large white napkin.

"Get away from me you bitch!" he screamed at her.

Monique fell back aghast at the venom coming from Peter's mouth.

"It's true Peter, believe me it's all true. And you're right, Amelia did try to tell you in her letters. Why, she was writing to you the day she died. We found an unfinished letter to you on her bureau table, she was coming back to Australia with little Peter to find you and tell you, but she never made it. She was killed before she could tell you. Amanda and I are beginning to think someone killed her before she could tell you. Monique reached for her phone.

Peter had turned his back on her, now he turned back again to confront her.

"I still don't believe it, the Amelia I know would have rung me and told me. Why didn't she simply contact me?" He stated triumphantly.

"Because we told her you already had a girlfriend in Melbourne and that she was pregnant too, and you were going to marry her," Monique explained.

"But she knew I didn't have a girlfriend. She knew I was a virgin too.

"I told her I was moving in with Michael.  I wrote her a letter telling her all about Michael. You kept that from her too?" Peter said accusingly.

"No unfortunately, we gave her that letter, that was the last one we ever gave her. We took out the last page where you told her you loved her and wanted to ask Jean's blessing to marry her. We took all that out luckily for us,  it was all on the third page and then we changed all the Michaels to Michaelas so that it looked like you were living with a girl called Michaela. We told Amelia that we had heard that this Michaela had a drug problem and that it was her drugs that Tony found in your car. We told her you were taking the wrap for Michaela to keep her out of prison seeing she was pregnant with your child. It all sounded feasible, feasible enough for her to be so pissed off with you that she wouldn't try to speak to you. It worked but only just, there were a few times she almost rang you but we convinced her not to."

Peter had calmed down a little, things were sinking in, and for a moment he had forgotten that they were still in the middle of a formal confession with all it's rights and privileges of secrecy.

Carter read his father's mind, cunning bitch . . . she hopes the confessional will afford her some protection as well as forgiveness.

Peter then asked, "Who is the 'we' you keep referring to?" Peter asked calmly.

"Me and my sisters, you remember them, my twin sister Michelle, she's the one that altered your letter and Margot in Paris, that's who Amelia stayed with over there. She redirected all Amelia's mail addressed to you to me.

"Did anyone else know?" Peter asked curiously.

"No one outside the immediate family, er oh, I forgot, of course Father Dan. He was a great help and comfort through all of this," Monique said.

"Weren't you afraid Dan would tell me what you were up to. We are very close you know," Peter asked.

"I didn't tell him everything, and if I did tell him I did it in confession so he had a vow of secrecy. I also made him swear not to tell you certain things, but not that Amelia had died, he could have told you that, after all the Chevals being a well known media family it was on the news and in the papers at the time," Monique explained.

"I didn't know, it must have been awful for you. I am sorry, I wish someone had told me. I had been holding a torch for her for many years. I loved your daughter totally, but she didn't love me, she never said as much. In many ways I still do, there has been no-one else since her. I thought we might marry, but now I am married to the Church, she is my wife, she is my mistress. You mentioned something odd about Amelia's death . . . no?" Peter enquired.

"It might be nothing, then again it might be everything, but you knew Amelia, does she sound like the type to, having popped an XTC tablet at a disco, to then go into a lane and shoot up heroin, and die in the process?" Monique asked.

"Impossible, she would never do that," Peter agreed.

"That's what my sisters and I think, she loved her little baby, little Peter, she would never do anything to jeopardise his well being." Monique nodded in agreement. "At the disco they met a man, a man that turned out to be the last one to see Amelia alive, a man who vanished that night, a man the French police say they can't find. Here I have a photo of Amelia on that night, he is also in the photo. I'll show you," she handed him her phone.

Peter looked and nearly dropped the phone. He started crying, she was so beautiful he couldn't take his eyes off her. "My poor little Amelia, what have they done to you." He finally looked at the figure on her right, the man with his arm around her, he was filled instantly with jealous rage, then he gasped, and said under his breath, "fucking Andre . . . "

"What did you say? Peter, did you say . . . how did you know his name? Do you know something about this person?" Monique said suspiciously.

"No, no, I don't, maybe he reminds me of someone, someone I literally ran into at the airport when I first came to Rome with Father Dan, but it couldn't be him, it's not possible," he lied as he looked at the skull ring. "I think his name was Andy," he recovered quickly.

"Funny, I swear I thought you called him Andre, because we believe that's his name," Monique started to pry.

"No, perhaps a slip of the tongue, I meant to say Andy. Anyway do you have a copy of this picture of Amelia. I would like one," Peter asked.

"No, the only print is in the police files in Paris, he remains a person of interest. So they won't release it to me.This is all I have. Give me your phone number, I assume you have a mobile. I'll message you a copy," she offered.

"We don't give out our numbers here for security reasons, you could bluetooth it to me though," Peter said as he pulled a phone from a concealed pocket in his cassock.

After Peter had received the file on his phone he looked at the picture again. Then he put the phone back in it's hideaway. Carter watched as Peter turned back to his grandmother and commanded "On your knees!" in a slightly menacing tone.

"Peter I'm so sorry, for lying to you, for everything."

"Shut up," he commanded again, as she sunk to her knees before him.

He made an expansive sign of the cross and said, "I absolve you of all your sins of the past and present. In Nomini Patris et Filio et Spiritu Sanctu. Now rise up, go in peace to love and serve the Lord, and sin no more."

He extended his hand for her to kiss his ring.

"Oh thank you Peter, you've no idea how relieved I am. I thought you might be angry with me," Monique gushed and continued, "seeing your ring, reminds me, did you notice the ring on Andre's middle finger? The skull ring. There was a priest at the restaurant the night Carter was killed. He had the same ring, Layla thinks he might be involved somehow."

"Who is Layla?" Peter asked.

"Layla is, I mean was Carter's girlfriend. They were to be married. She is an investigative journalist like Amanda, she has taken over Carter's role on After Dark."

"You asked if I was angry with you, angry with you? I'm fucking furious. It's your fault, all of it. You caused all this through your lies, if not for you my Amelia might be alive, we might have been together, my son, the blessed fruit of our union that night would be still alive. I would be happily married to Amelia, you would have more grandchildren. I wouldn't have had to do what I have had to do. God may absolve you, but I never will. Now get out, and don't ever come back. I never want to lay eyes on you again."

"Oh, Peter, don't, please, you're very Catholic but not very Christian are you?" she wailed. Carter hated to see his nanna in so much pain. Then he realised the extent of his father's anger. He looked down and his cord was glowing blood red, as red as the blood that had gushed out of him at the moment of his death.

His father yelled "Guard!"  A member of the Swiss Guard burst through the door, his spear pointed at Monique in a threatening manner. "Show this woman out, and do not let her back in under any circumstances, ever. Take her photo and give it to Security Central. She is never to return, is that clear . . . never!"

"But Peter . , . ," Monique protested.

"Don't make me use this Madam, you heard the Cardinal, it's time to go now!"

Carter saw his father shoot the guard a menacing stare.

"Sorry, I mean, er you heard Father Raphael, you must leave now."

Monique was confused and flustered as she was ushered out the door and down to Security Central.

Carter was overwhelmed by emotional charges emanating from his nanna, but more so from his father. He experienced a feeling of deep despair he had never encountered. Even on earth, even in all the tragic cicumstances some people had found themselves in, in the cases he had investigated for work. Nothing came close to the cocktail of despair and anger exuding from his father.

His father took out his phone and studied the photo he had downloaded.

Carter read his mind, Fucking Andre . . . it was Andre . . . but why, why kill Amelia? What harm could she have caused? What possible threat could she pose? Shit, and they knew . . . the bastards knew . . . they knew Carter was my son, but they let me do it anyway. My God . . . is there no end to this nightmare." Peter picked up the carafe of red wine and threw it at the glass picture window, it crashed against it, bounced off the bullet proof glass, shattered into a million pieces. Red wine spilt like blood and ran down the window pane in rivers until the conference room looked like a murder scene. The door burst open and another guard raced in.

"Are you alright Your Grace?" he asked.

Peter pushed past him, "Get someone to clean this mess up." He slammed the door as he stormed out.

The guard was left alone in the room, alone with only the invisible Carter for company.