Gone every year since that day. Attended the anniversary memorial. Represented him. Her husband. The great and heroic John Doe. Except that he was NOT. Not where it counted most. Not when it came to his family. His personal life. He was just a flawed man there. At home. To her and their kids. This morning she sat on the cold wooden bench looking out across the river as the new World Trade Center rose out of that hallow ground. Last night had been a barrage of calls. ‘What you not going this year? Why you not going?’ Her family. His sister. Their friends. The other wives. As always she felt alone. Different. Isolated. How could she explain? She couldn’t. It was that simple. The bastard had won. She would never be free of him. Not now. *** That morning…September 11, 2001…somewhere in suburban New York/New Jersey Jane bustled about the kitchen trying to get breakfast made. The bacon had to be perfect: crisp but not burnt. His eggs had to be perfect: moist but not runny. The children. Freddie winced at the clunk as she crossed the cattle grid. Ferraris weren't designed for that, Freddie thought.Freddie looked questioningly at Norman."Danoola Iswana," Norman said as he ushered Freddie inside. "Call her Danni. Isn't she something?"Freddie's immediate reaction was to be worried by this new development, but he put his thoughts to one side. He looked around the entrance hall. The ticket desk and racks of guidebooks had gone. So had the sour faced woman who had asked for his entrance fee on his last visit. "So, you got the National Trust out?" he said. "No problems?"Norman led the way into the library. Ashtrays, Freddie noticed, had been reintroduced. The wedding pictures had been removed. Norman pulled a bottle of scotch from where it was incongruously perched on the bookshelves. Freddie nodded as Norman offered him a glass. "They didn't like it but they didn't have much choice. I'm letting them run the park, can't be arsed with that, but I've got the house back..
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