‘Fuck no. After what I’ve seen of mankind and what people are capable of I would find it hard to think that we were made in God’s image. This is a fucked-up world heading for trouble, so fuck knows what God’s grand plan is – other than for us all to starve to death through overpopulation on a poison world full of litter.’

  ‘You do paint a rosy picture,’ I quipped. ‘But if God made us in his image, did he give us his temperament or just a general body outline, food in one way and shat out the other end?’

  ‘It’s all a nonsense, it’s just us on a lonely rock in space - slowly poisoning the place where we live. God gave us the ability to eat and shit, and we shit where we live,’ he complained.

  A first step on the long road to recovery

  The next morning I was packed-up very quickly, in so much as I had nothing to pack up. We had all signed the hospital forms, legally discharging ourselves, but we were less than a week away from that planned date anyhow.

  The hospital staff on this ward all grouped together for a photo of me holding the baby, Luka stood next to me, the twins in the shot. The head of the hospital came to see me and I thanked him and his staff, Rolf and the other survivors already in wheelchairs and now being wheeled out to the waiting ambulances.

  I posed with the hospital managers, and outside of the main hospital doors the crowd was maddeningly thick, there were thousands of them. I posed with the baby and with Luka, young Katerina Mary loving the attention, and I made a point of walking to where the crowd could see us, a quick chat with the nuns lined up.

  In a mini-bus, not an ambulance, I found police at the front and so sat in the middle with the baby and Luka, the twins sat in front of me with Olesya; Ingrid had gone with Rolf.

  A short half-hour drive in bad traffic brought us to the fantastic lake valley, and I marvelled at the huge expensive villas seen around the lake, houses and villas that were all seemingly at least a hundred years old.

  The crash survivors would be staying on the south side, and we soon arrived at the dated two-storey stone building that was the Hotel Galleon. No spectators were noted, just a few reporters hanging around, so as I stepped down I made a point of posing for them with the baby; that way they’d be less inclined to sneak into my room at night.

  Inside the hotel, a few regular guests were shocked to see us, reception handing us keys – we were expected. Luka had a social worker in tow, a right old lesbian tank of a lady, and that lady would regulate Luka’s time with the baby. At least she thought she would, I had other ideas.

  Handing the baby to the social worker, Luka was led to a room as I climbed the ornate wide stairs with the twins, and we found a suite of three very posh rooms connected, Rolf and Ingrid in the end room. None of us survivors had luggage, that had burnt with the plane, so we all had some shopping to do.

  Taking in our room, I marvelled at the huge oil painting copies hung on the walls, and then marvelled at the view of the lake from our balcony. Being here would be no great hardship.

  I turned and faced the twins. ‘Go see reception, ask where we can buy a suitcase and some clothes for me; I have just the one pair of socks.’

  ‘We go soon, yes.’

  Rita made a call, and the hotel had a tailor’s shop – which I found odd. After a quick chat to Rolf and Ingrid I headed down with the twins to the tailors, and as expected they were up-market. Still, I now had a few quid extra apparently.

  They spoke English, they had been made aware of my pending arrival, and in a flash they had suit jackets for me to try on, the twins commenting on style and colour.

  I opted for three jackets, various shades of grey, plus the matching trousers, six pairs of socks, six pants, three nice pairs of shoes, six grey shirts and six white shirts, the price tag being hefty, the twins paying with our company credit card. Knowing that my purchases here were tax deductible I felt a little better.

  Whilst still in a new grey suit with a light grey shirt, I led the twins out of the tailors, my new purchases and my old clothes to be delivered to our room. They would also deliver a new suitcase for me.

  Out the rear of the hotel we found a nice outside pool, the pool surrounded by well-established ornate gardens placed on a terraced incline leading up towards the hill behind us, a view of a heated indoor pool seen through windows, a view of several sexy babes doing lengths in the outside pool. And when Maria eased out the water I hid my grin, and my desire to take her to my room for an arse massage.

  In brilliant sunshine, we closed in on her as she grabbed a towel. ‘You should definitely try some modelling work,’ I told her, embarrassing our new potential employee.

  ‘My parents think it OK if you control it. But not naked.’

  ‘We don’t do naked modelling, we just walk around naked in hotel rooms mostly.’

  Maria pointed at a lady getting out of the pool on the far side. ‘Evangelina Hessman.’

  I recognised the name, as did the twins, the lady being something of a supermodel, mostly catwalk work. And seeing us, the lady in question walked around after putting on her heels and a sarong. She was as tall as me in heels, and a hot babe approaching thirty years old, a great pair of boobs in a bikini.

  ‘Mister Roskov and the twins,’ she stated in a cool sexy accent, a kiss on the cheek for each twin. ‘You look well,’ she told me.

  ‘I hide the pain, still have some bruising. This is Maria, granddaughter of the contessa.’

  ‘Ah, the lady you rescue. She owns this hotel and the villa behind.’ They held shoulders and kissed cheeks.

  ‘We’re here to recover,’ I told her. ‘Swimming, massage, sunbathing, some cold beer.’

  ‘Claudia is filming now, and I know the director, he ask me to do small walk on,’ she informed us.

  ‘I’ll do a few walk-ons with the twins, they did ask already. So we may see you on the set.’

  ‘If you make another movie, I would like a small walk-on…’

  ‘Definitely.’

  Sat at a table under sun shades, drinks were brought to us, the Swedish construction magnate coming out with his wife and teenage daughter, the wife limping a little and being helped along.

  They sat next to us, Evangelina introduced, and they had already met Maria at the hospital.

  The father began, ‘In Copenhagen they go crazy with the story now, and the graveyard has a fence and armed guards, already many people seen praying there.

  ‘They will make a path and put a fence, so that people can walk past and not damage the graves there. And more people visit your grandfather’s house, and where the German officer lived with his wife.

  ‘They show photos of your grandfather as a boy, the family, the wartime documents that were found in your grandfather’s house, many historians talking about the war on the TV now.’

  ‘I didn’t think the Danish people were so religious,’ I told him.

  ‘A few are, for sure.’

  Rita cut in, ‘They are Evangelical Lutheran, a few Catholic, but some go to church even if they are liberal democrats and do not believe in God. Half do not believe in God, very few marriages are in church, only a few thousand.’

  ‘I was forced to go to church a few times as a kid,’ I told them all. ‘But I liked history in school and I studied the local churches and their history, so I found it fascinating to go to church when I was younger. Last time I went I was … maybe eleven years old.’

  A grey-haired man walked out and straight for us. ‘I’m Brad, saw you from my balcony up there - I’m in the cheap rooms at the back.’

  I eased out, stood and shook his hand. To the gang I said, ‘Brad is from Spielberg’s film company, we’ll make a film together about the plane crash.’

  I got him a seat and waved a waiter over as people asked about filming, planned films and past films, and I was soon explaining my ancestors to Evangelina, followed by explaining how the plane was shaking and injuring the passengers, and how I dragged Maria’s grandmother out – then how I dropped her by accident.

  Carter appeared in a wheelchair, being pushed by a nurse in a uniform, but not a hospital uniform. Reaching us, he used a crutch to limp to us and sit.

  ‘Nurse?’ I asked.

  ‘From some private company,’ he told us.

  ‘I have one also,’ the Swedish magnate’s wife told me.

  ‘You are supposed to have one,’ Rita chided me, as if I might reject the idea.

  ‘I’ll be a good patient, kind of, and recover very quickly,’ I assured her. ‘She can fuss around me all she likes.’ I faced Maria. ‘Where’s your grandmother?’

  ‘Up in the house.’ She pointed up the slope and we could just about see the large house through the trees. ‘She will come down to visit each day, and you can go up there. There is a small bus, but you can also walk, it’s not far.’

  The young Swedish surveyor came out in a wheelchair, being pushed by yet another commercial nurse, and he joined us, still sat in the wheelchair. ‘This is better than that damn hospital bed for sure. They were good to me, but I needed to be out.’

  ‘We all needed to be out,’ I assured him. ‘It’s not just you. Your family will visit here?’

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘I’ll pay the air fare, so invite them.’

  Half an hour later, and with the baby brought out by the social worker not Luka, I stripped down to my shorts and eased into the cool water, baby Katerina seemingly puzzled and not knowing what it was as I dipped her into the shallow end up to her knees.

  Waterproof nappy brought out, baby changed, and I let her float in the shallow end as I held her, Katerina loving it and shrieking as the twins took snaps that we would release to the media.

  Bikinis on, the twins eased in with Maria and Evangelina, a reporter soon taking snaps, but I was not sure who had invited the man in, or if this was a good idea, since I was surrounded by hot girls in bikinis; the hand of God would be snapped whilst surrounded by boobs.

  With the twins tending the baby I tried swimming slowly, a few shooting pains slowing me down, but after two lengths I felt better, my waterproof pads soon to be tested since they were meant for showers and not for swimming with.

  Out of the pool, I stood in the sun and dried off, a few guests keen to chat, a few shown my residual bruises. Thanks to the massages and the ultrasound, those bruises were rapidly disappearing.

  At the pool bar I ordered a cold beer for myself plus Carter and the young Swedish surveyor, the three of us soon sat enjoying those cold beers as Rolf was wheeled out by Ingrid and Olesya.

  The hotel manager stepped out to me ten minutes later and asked if everything was OK, and he explained the snapper – a friend of his and a man sanctioned by the contessa. And the manager, he was related to the contessa.

  Massage ladies were available, and after our cold beer the three of us headed inside and to the massage room – that room found to be just off the indoor swimming pool, four tables in a row with curtains, so we lay face down, the curtains left open, suitable Asian massage music now playing.

  An hour later I was feeling better, by arse and my hips having been well and truly massaged, my balls nudged a few times, and after collecting the twins from the poolside we enjoyed a three-way shower to get the massage cream off me.

  Figuring it to be just about bearable, I lay down on the bed before Rita gently mounted me, a slow steady movement started. There were a few twinges in my back, but it was worth it, the boobs pointing down below a cute smile on a beautiful face.

  Frieda was waiting, so after Rita had finished I eased around and licked Frieda’s pussy at length, making her groan out loud – not a good idea in a suite. Cuddled up, the windows open and a warm September breeze blowing, we lay there and drifted off to sleep.

  More like my old self

  I woke to hear a boat engine, and easing up yawning I could see the wake of a boat that had passed, maybe the Italian paparazzi seeking a good snap of me stood here naked.

  Shorts on, I stepped onto the balcony, right into view of three men with long lens on the lakeshore. They aimed my way so I waved at them, probably spoiling their shot; they probably hoped to catch me unawares and the twins topless.

  The view of the lake and mountains was spectacular, and I fancied a boat ride. I made a mental note to ask reception about such excursions since there seemed to be two motor boats moored at the hotel jetty.

  Back inside I made myself a cup of tea, and when the twins stirred I made two more teas and handed them out. Dressed some, we sat on the balcony for a while in full view of the snappers, the twins waving at the men.

  Adjoining door opened, and we found Olesya waking up after a nap, and through the final door I found Rolf in bed and sleeping, Ingrid sat reading a book.

  ‘How’s grumpy?’ I whispered.

  ‘He tried swimming and then had a massage,’ she whispered back.

  I quietly closed the door on her reading, Olesya soon handed a cup of tea as she lay in knickers and t-shirt that hid nothing.

  About an hour later we headed down dressed smart, Ingrid pushing Rolf in his wheelchair, and in the posh restaurant we found empty seats at a large round table next to another large table, the Swedish survivors already sat there with the contessa and Maria.

  Hungry, we grabbed the vacant table after greeting the contessa, and after I had greeted a few people around the room – including Brad, soon something of a party atmosphere in here. Luka came in with the social worker and the baby, the baby being well behaved as she sat in her high chair to be fed by the twins and Oleysa.

  Two hours later, many of the normal guests now gone, I sat in a corner with Brad and we discussed at length the scenes in the planned movie, and he took notes.

  The detail of my life would be condensed into fifteen minutes, and it would start with my first day at work in the glass factory, followed by modelling for the company brochure, the Mercedes advert, then we’d skip seven months, to the house in Sweden just before the fateful flight to Milan.

  Luka’s life would be detailed - in more detail than mine, but would not be too horrific for a religious audience. The film would end with me placing flowers on the grave of the first Katerina Mary.

  The manager stepped in and approached so I stood. He began, ‘The man known as Gabby, Luka’s … pimp, has been arrested in the Czech Republic, to be questioned about a murder there, but also to be charged with abandoning the baby here.’

  ‘Thanks, keep me informed please.’

  Sat back down, I faced Brad. ‘That closes the loophole, the missing element. And we need him to admit what he did, not say that Luka wanted rid of the baby.’

  ‘Do you think there’s anything that might leak?’ Brad asked, now worried.

  ‘No one would believe it if it did, and it’s his word against hers, and she left the note in the cot for someone to find. But we wait to see what he says, and what’s leaked in the Czech Republic. If he says that she once stabbed a man when high on drugs it harms our happy ending story.

  ‘And she was probably involved in shoplifting and theft to feed the drug habit, and to feed herself, and that may come out.’

  ‘Her behaviour on drugs can be explained away,’ Brad insisted. ‘She was not thinking straight, they never are.’

  At 10pm we were all sat in the bar in small groups, the contessa here with her extended family, Maria looking great and bonding with Olesya, Brad getting to know everyone and asking if they would cooperate with the film studio.

  So far he was enjoying a hundred percent agreement rate, and our survivors would all be named, their lives before the crash detailed in quick scenes, goodbyes at the airport in Stockholm. Rolf would not be playing himself, no one apart from me and the twins would playing ourselves.

  My father called, which was unusual - he never called, it was always my mother calling. I stepped out to the pool area. My father began, ‘We’ve had the Press sniffing around since we got back, but … after chatting to your mother I’ve decided to get them off my case and give them an interview.

  ‘They want a documentary-style TV programme, your grandfather arriving in Britain, old photos shown, that sort of thing, what life was like when I was young, my old family home.’

  ‘Will they pay?’ I complained.

  ‘Yes, we settled on a hundred and twenty thousand, which will pay off the mortgage and leave us money for when we retire, which … may be soon.’

  ‘Retire? You’re fifty-one!’ I pointed out.

  ‘The Press attention … it … makes it hard for me to work.’

  I suddenly felt bad, very bad. ‘I can understand that, and I have money for you to use, places you can stay.’

  ‘I’ll quit work, do the documentary, and then we’ll travel some, get away from it all.’

  I heaved a sigh. ‘This is my fault.’

  ‘No, don’t think like that, we’re proud of all that you’ve done, just that having such a famous son means that the idiots around here and the idiots in the Press make our lives hard.’

  ‘You still have police protection?’ I worried.

  ‘Yes, and we’re grateful for it.’

  ‘Don’t sell the house, sell it to me; I’ll want a place in Leicester and you’ll want a base to come home to as well.’

  ‘That could work, yes,’ my father agreed. ‘No inheritance tax issues later on.’

  ‘Start packing, make some plans, do the documentary. And when making the documentary, just remember that the people who’ll view it are interested in the story and not interested in trying to trip you up.

  ‘Talk to the interviewer and the camera as you would a bunch of teenagers that are keenly listening, don’t be afraid, and ignore the Press when they criticise you for taking money to make the documentary – everyone gets paid for their time.’

  Up in the room, with Rolf and Ingrid, I sat and let out a sigh. They exchanged looks. I finally began, ‘My parents will sell-up and go travelling, to get away from the British tabloids.’