John Pennington’s life is in the doldrums. Looking for new opportunities, and prevaricating about getting married, the only joy on the horizon was an upcoming visit to his grandmother in Sorrento, Italy.
Suddenly he is left at the check-in counter with a message on his phone telling him the marriage is off, and the relationship is over.
If only he hadn’t promised a friend he would do a favour for him in Rome.
At the first stop, Geneva, he has a chance encounter with Zoe, an intriguing woman who captures his imagination from the moment she boards the Savoire, and his life ventures into uncharted territory in more ways than one.
That ‘favour’ for his friend suddenly becomes a life-changing event, and when Zoe, the woman who he knows is too good to be true, reappears, danger and death follow.
Shot at, lied to, seduced, and drawn into a world where nothing is what it seems, John is dragged into an adrenaline-charged undertaking, where he may have been wiser to stay with the ‘devil you know’ rather than opt for the ‘devil you don’t’.
She was a good worker, but extremely private. Her path had been clear; work, no play, and avoid everyone. I’d seen her deal with executives and office boys alike, and put up barriers that no one could penetrate. She made herself deliberately unattractive and unapproachable for reasons unknown.
Over time I tried to penetrate that steely exterior with moderate success, trying to get to know her better. And, in doing so I discovered she apparently had a bad experience early on in life with someone, and it had affected her deeply.
Of course, it didn’t progress much more than that one admission, not until the divorce. It was long and problematical because Ellen had chosen to go the hard route rather than just call it off, perhaps to make me realize just what I had put her through. The sad fact was, there was nothing I could do to make it right, now or in the future.
But because of that, and because it seemed to Jennifer that I needed someone to ‘lean’ on in my time of trouble, she became the only person I could talk to. It wasn’t difficult. We were both working long hours in each others company, and neither of us had a desire to go home.
Then three months ago, something happened and everything changed.
Well, it changed between us, but to the outside world, no one would ever know. That didn’t mean we hadn’t been friends of a sort before that, it was just we were, well, I don’t think I could describe it. All I know is I knew my feelings for her had changed, or perhaps they were the same, and she had changed. Whatever it was, I was glad. Ellen had been dragging me down for so long; just being with Jennifer was like a breath of fresh air.
I found I could pour out the details of my sad and undistinguished life to her. She was the one and only person to whom I could talk freely. And, all of a sudden, apparently I was the only one she could talk freely to too. From that point, we had become a different sort of friends, and, in the last week or so, a little more than that.
Our last encounter had been interesting to say the least. I was still not sure of what I said, or how it ended, other than I had apologized to her the Friday night before we parted. I hadn’t exactly wanted any vacation days, they were thrust upon me, but perhaps it was fortuitous in that it would give us both time to consider our relationship.
After Ellen, I hadn’t thought about getting involved in a relationship, or anything else for that matter, but it seemed that was where Jennifer and I could finish up, despite the fact neither of us were realistically looking for anything other than a friendship.
That very subtly changed on that Friday night.
Now I’d been thrust back into the fire, and I wondered just how I would feel seeing her.
Jennifer is an important character in several ways, as a friend to Bill, and in a way, connected to him in a way he doesn’t yet know. She will also have some impact when his past finally catches up with him.
I’m still working on her character background, but more will follow soon.
She is about to change, especially in the eyes of Bill.
For a story that was conceived during those long boring hours flying in a steel cocoon, striving to keep away the thoughts that the plane and everyone in it could just simply disappear as planes have in the past, it has come a long way.
Whilst I have always had a fascination with what happened during the second world war, not the battles or fighting, but in the more obscure events that took place, I decided to pen my own little sidebar to what was a long and bitter war.
And, so, it continues…
——
Jackerby trusted no one. He had been given orders by someone further up the ranks than Wallace and his people, someone who suspected that some or all of the Englishmen turned German turned Englishmen were traitors.
The only men he could trust fully were those who had come with him in the glider, a dozen at most. It’s why he had just completed a secret briefing with his second in command who would take over the operation if anything happened to him.
Not that it would, but he liked the idea of being prepared, and humoring the others into believing they were essential to the operation. Eckhardt would be a good man in a crisis, battle scarred from the Russian front, and glad to be on this operation for obvious reasons.
He would do anything Jackerby asked, even kill Wallace and Johannsen if he was required to.
That might yet be necessary because Wallace didn’t seem interested in going after Atherton which made him think that Wallace wasn’t all that he appeared to be. Atherton was a thorn in their operation and had to be eliminated. The fact Wallace and Johannsen didn’t agree with him raised suspicions as to their motives.
Was there ultimately going to be a triple cross?
He had been lurking in the shadows when Wallace gave the drunken fool Leonardo his orders to go down to the village. More defectors. Jackerby couldn’t understand why anyone would want to leave the Reich, especially when they were winning the war, and, if it were up to him, he’d executer the lot of them not send them back.
But, orders were orders.
He went back to Eckhardt and told him he was going down to the village to observe Leonardo and his team in action, and that he was in charge of the men in his absence.
Eckhardt, on the other hand, knew that Jackerby, if he could find a way that would not cause them trouble, was going to eliminate Leonardo because they were a liability. The plan was once Leonardo and his men were gone, Jackerby would take over rounding up the defectors. Or, more to the point, they would go missing before reaching the castle. There was only one that mattered, the rest were dead weight. And once the prize had been captured, Jackerby would escort him home and collect the kudos for himself and his men.
The ultimate prize; leave to reunite briefly with their families and a cushy job in Berlin, away from the horrors of war in the trenches.
Leonardo and the five others that made up the resistance left the castle by one of the underground tunnels. Leonardo knew of two, both of them shown to him by Carlo. He knew that Carlo knew where more were, but Carlo was not particularly helpful at the best of times.
He also knew Carlo might be stupid enough to storm the castle, especially after what Leonardo had done to Martina, and, when it hadn’t happened, he suspected Atherton had appealed to him to wait.
Atherton, too, he knew had some idea of the layout of the castle, have been told to keep an eye on Atherton when he first arrived because he was reportedly an archaeologist. Leonardo had, and reported back to Wallace that it appeared Atherton had been surveying the castle. He had simply been told to keep Atherton under surveillance, and make notes of any discoveries, and particularly what Atherton was doing.
He had, not that it amounted to much. Not when he realized Leonardo was following him. Leonardo decided not to tell Wallace Atherton had rumbled him, just that he was roaming the passages looking for something.
It had worked so far and kept Wallace off his back, but it wasn’t going to last.
Bottom line, Leonardo had to find and kill Atherton before any trouble started, otherwise, it would be his neck on the block.
Jackerby followed.
It wasn’t hard to follow Leonardo because he and his man were the last people to know what stealth was. He could hear them crashing through the forest between the castle and the village up to 250 meters away, he was making so much noise.
But, Jackerby thought, perhaps Leonardo didn’t need to worry about alerting his presence to Atherton, not if he was already working with him.
To Jackerby and his paranoia, it made sense. Maybe he was going to meet with Atherton right now and do a deal with the defectors. How many others had turned up at the village in the last week or so, and never made it to the castle?
He was right, Jackerby told himself, not to trust them. Everyone, in the end, was an enemy of the Reich.
It took 20 minutes to reach the outskirts of the village, and when Jackerby could see the edge of the woods, and the barn and remains of the farmhouse just the other side of the tree line, he dropped back, found a suitable observation point, and waited.
Leonardo and his men had stopped at the back of the barn, and one of his men was about to go find the defectors. The rest of Leonardo’s men would wait with him, and surprise their guests, before taking them back to the castle.
As far as “Jackerby was concerned, they would never reach the castle, and this time, he would take care of Leonardo, and the others.
It would be easy to say that Atherton had killed all the members of the resistance, and then got killed himself in a shootout with Jackerby. It was a plausible reason for all the deaths, though he would have to come up with a suitable excuse for leaving the castle and following Leonardo and his men when Wallace had expressly forbidden it.
Wallace.
Perhaps if he got his hands on Atherton he’d ask him if Wallace was a traitor.
This book has been written for some time and the manuscript was sitting in a box with half a dozen others gathering dust and not quite as complete, so this month it is going to get the makeover, a first draft for the editor.
And so it begins…
…
Those pesky characters seem to be always getting in the way
…
And no matter how much you think you have that character down, they always find a new way to surprise you. But, here’s the thing…
In those heady moments when you are first writing the story and working with the characters, they don’t necessarily have those little annoying traits, to begin with.
Those traits come now, in the revision, where they cease to be two-dimensional.
Of course, these people are mostly an amalgam of characteristics that you’ve observed over a long period of time.
I used to sit at the railway station at busy times to observe people and filled a dozen notebooks with both characteristics and eccentricities.
A little backpedalling is required.
I know there isn’t a lot of time for revisions this early on, but there are ‘glaring’ mistakes, even for a first draft, even if it is not meant to be perfect.
When we first planned to stay in Tuscany for a few days, we wanted to be in a central area. We had thought of staying in Florence and making daily treks, but the tour operator we selected told us it would be better if we stayed closer to Arezzo.
We picked Greve in Chianti, and a place called Antico Pastificio, we booked a standard apartment with two bedrooms, and it was about as authentic Italian you could get. The building we stayed in was the yellow pasta factory, and the apartment named ‘Iris’.
It was only steps away from the main square, shops, restaurants, and at the opposite end, the quaint ringing of church bells at various times during the day.
Gaining access was through a very narrow arch which required some deft driving and then up the road. There were villas and two large apartment blocks.
You can just see the archway at the end of the road. This was the entrance to our room,
along a passage and up the stairs, turning left at the top.
Going straight ahead through the gate to the car park,
and access to the grounds behind the buildings.
This was the view from the lounge/living room. The days were hot, and on several evenings it rained, breaking the heat and making the evenings sitting by the window cool and refreshing.
And the last view is looking towards the town piazza and the church
After my first visit, with imminent kidney failure, I said I wasn’t coming back. Hospitals and I don’t get along.
But…
Guess what?
Three days later I was being taken by ambulance back to the hospital.
I went to see my local GP about a cough that wouldn’t let me speak, and I was having a little trouble breathing.
OK, I was having a lot of trouble breathing, so it was straight on oxygen.
As you can imagine I hate hospitals. It’s where a lot of people go to die, and, for a short time, lying in my bed in Emergency, listening to all the possibilities of what was wrong with me, I started to believe it was my time.
Don’t ever consent to a nasal swab, it’s having very long cotton buds shoved up your nose and into your brain. It hurts like hell and makes your eyes run like taps. This after the nurse said I would only have momentary discomfort.
It was still hurting three days later.
When the X-rays came back it was confirmed I had pneumonia. A comparison with an X-ray from my first visit showed clouds where my lungs were, whereas the previous one had none.
It was thought I may have acquired it in the hospital on that first visit several days before.
So trying to find the bug was going to be far more intensive and painful than it being an ‘ordinary’ case of pneumonia. These bugs were more resistant to treatment and harder to track down.
The bad news, I wasn’t going anywhere for at least a week, possibly longer.
It took 9 days to get over it and be well enough to be discharged. For the first few days, I could not breathe without oxygen, and for the first five, I could do little other than lie down or sit up in bed. A walk to the shower or toilet, about 10 yards at best, exhausted me.
So there was little to do other than observe the medical staff and other patients.
Enough research to fill several pads.
And when I was well enough, I spent some time writing.
Never let it be said there isn’t a silver lining in at least one of those clouds!
I’m back home and this story has been sitting on a back burner for a few months, waiting for some more to be written.
The trouble is, there are also other stories to write, and I’m not very good at prioritising.
But, here we are, a few minutes opened up and it didn’t take long to get back into the groove.
An unlikely ally?
“Wait.”
It seemed that I had managed to scare her. Either that, or she had decided to be a little more forthcoming. I stopped and waited until she caught up. I was nearly at the top of the stairs.
“Look, I have to go back to my people, and I’ll get them to look into those two people you don’t seem to trust, who were they, Nobbin and Severin?”
“I don’t think you want to do that. You start making waves, your people will send out feelers and they’ll get to hear about it, and they will know exactly where it came from, and it’ll come back and bite you. For your own peace of mind, I’d let the sleeping dogs lie.”
She seemed over-eager to get ahead using this as a steppingstone. I’d seen the type, in the training ranks, and in former jobs. She was clearly assigned this job because of her looks, and she might be a good agent too, but she hadn’t thought this through.
“Are you telling me to back off?”
“I’m trying to save your life. If I have no idea who to trust, then I have to assume both of them are theoretically the enemy. I’m still counting the blessings I’m still alive, but I suspect that will only last until the USB is found. The rest of my team are dead.”
Now that put the right amount of fear into her.
“If they’re willing to kill everybody that’s come in contact with this information, I doubt they’d stop at killing the both of us if we got in their way.”
“Then you have a plan?”
“At the moment that plan consists of one line. Stay alive and find the USB before they do. After that, I’ll see what happens.”
I caught sight of an incident, two people almost colliding, and one, I noticed, was more intent on his phone which is what caused the clash. And, a second later, I thought I recognised one of the two.
Maury. Severin’s offsider, and more likely cleanup man. My guess, he was the one searching O’Connell’s flat, and Jan’.”
I think it was safe to say she was compromised.
“Ok,” I said quietly, “we have a problem, well two problems.” And if I was wrong about her, and she was one of Severin’s people, which, seeing Maury just turned a probable into a likely, I had three.
If she was, I hadn’t seen that coming.
“What now?”
Time to test the water.
“One of Severin’s men is downstairs, mingling, which means he knows I’m here, and maybe you two.”
I did a quick check of my scan of O’Connell’s, thinking I might have picked up a bug. It was the only explanation why Maury was here. And, it was likely he was not alone.
Not me. Jan?
“Did you take anything from O’Connell’s?”
“No. Why?”
“Are you sure. Think”
While scanning the lower floor of the station looking, no doubt, for Maury, and anyone that might present a problem, she looked like she was recounting her steps.
“Damn. A pen. I left it there the last time I saw him.” She pulled it out of her bag and went to toss it in the bin.
I snatched it, and as someone brushed past me, I dropped it into their pocket.
A flash of annoyance, then, “Hey, that cost a lot of money.”
“Then be grateful it didn’t cost you your life. Yet.”
We waited, keeping far enough back from the stairs, but with still a good view of the station. I kept an eye on the man whom I gave the pen as he made his way across the floor towards one of the platforms. Luckily it was at the furthest end, and as he approached it, I saw three figures, and Maury slowly make their way towards him forming a blockade so he couldn’t escape.
“Time to go.”
She had noticed the movement too.
We went down the stairs and headed towards the first available exit. As we were going out the door, we heard a commotion, the team obviously apprehending the wrong man, who would be wondering why four burly men were accosting him on his way home.
What happens when your past finally catches up with you?
…
Christmas is just around the corner, a time to be with family. For Will Mason, an orphan since he was fourteen, it is a time for reflection on what his life could have been, and what it could be.
Until a chance encounter brings back to life the reasons for his twenty years of self-imposed exile from a life only normal people could have. From that moment Will’s life slowly starts to unravel and it’s obvious to him it’s time to move on.
This time, however, there is more at stake.
Will has broken his number one rule, don’t get involved.
With his nemesis, Eddie Jamieson, suddenly within reach, and a blossoming relationship with an office colleague, Maria, about to change everything, Will has to make a choice. Quietly leave, or finally, make a stand.
But as Will soon discovers, when other people are involved there is going to be terrible consequences no matter what choice he makes.
It’s a town we visited in Italy when on a private tour. Of course, I wrote it down on a notepad app on my phone at the time, and, yes, not long after that, an accidental reset lost all the data.
Now, I have no idea with the name of the town is, just that it was a picturesque stopover in the middle of a delightful private tour of Tuscany.
There are narrow laneways that I suspect no one 300 hundred years ago planned for cars
Narrower walkways that lead to very dark places
Walkways on the side of the hills that look down on the picturesque valleys
And rather interesting hillsides, some of which provided inspiration for Leonardo da Vinci
Or maybe it was this landscape, though it is difficult to see what could be found as inspiration in such a bland hillside
A lot of houses, some of them quite large, nestled in amongst the trees
Gardens, of sorts, balcony’s, not so big, and hidden doorways
Even not so secret passageways between houses.
All in all, it was an interesting visit, and it made me wonder what it would be like to live here, all crowded together, rather than living on our relatively isolated quarter-acre blocks.
50 photographs, 50 stories, of which there is one of the 50 below.
They all start with –
…
A picture paints … well, as many words as you like. For instance:
And, the story:
Have you ever watched your hopes and dreams simply just fly away?
Everything I thought I wanted and needed had just left in an aeroplane, and although I said I was not going to, I came to the airport to see the plane leave. Not the person on it, that would have been far too difficult and emotional, but perhaps it was symbolic, the end of one life and the start of another.
But no matter what I thought or felt, we had both come to the right decision. She needed the opportunity to spread her wings. It was probably not the best idea for her to apply for the job without telling me, but I understood her reasons.
She was in a rut. Though her job was a very good one, it was not as demanding as she had expected, particularly after the last promotion, but with it came resentment from others on her level, that she, the youngest of the group would get the position.
It was something that had been weighing down on her for the last three months, and if noticed it, the late nights, the moodiness, and sometimes a flash of temper. I knew she had one, no one could have such red hair and not, but she had always kept it in check.
And, then there was us, together, and after seven years, it felt like we were going nowhere. Perhaps that was down to my lack of ambition, and though she never said it, lack of sophistication. It hadn’t been an issue, well, not until her last promotion, and the fact she had to entertain more, and frankly I felt like an embarrassment to her.
So, there it was, three days ago, the beginning of the weekend, and we had planned to go away for a few days and take stock. We both acknowledged we needed to talk, but it never seemed like the right time.
It was then she said she had quit her job and found a new one. Starting the following Monday.
Ok, that took me by surprise, not so much that it was something I sort of guessed might happen, but that she would just blurt it out.
I think that right then, at that moment, I could feel her frustration with everything around her.
What surprised her was my reaction. None.
I simply asked where who, and when.
A world-class newspaper, in New York, and she had to be there in a week.
A week.
It was all the time I had left with her.
I remember I just shrugged and asked if the planned weekend away was off.
She stood on the other side of the kitchen counter, hands around a cup of coffee she had just poured, and that one thing I remembered was the lone tear that ran down her cheek.
Is that all you want to know?
I did, yes, but we had lost that intimacy we used to have when she would have told me what was happening, and we would have brainstormed solutions. I might be a cabinet maker but I still had a brain, which was what I overheard her tell a friend once.
There’s not much to ask, I said. You’ve been desperately unhappy and haven’t been able to hide it all that well, you have been under a lot of pressure trying to deal with a group of troglodytes, and you’ve been leaning on Bentley’s shoulder instead of mine, and I get it, he’s got more experience in that place, and the politics that go with it, and is still an ally.
Her immediate superior and instrumental in her getting the position, but unlike some men in his position he had not taken advantage of a situation like some men would. And even if she had made a move, which I doubted, was not the sort of woman she was, he would have politely declined.
One of the very few happily married men in that organisation, so I heard.
So, she said, you’re not just a pretty face.
Par for the course for a cabinet maker whose university degree is in psychology. It doesn’t take rocket science to see what was happening to you. I just didn’t think it was my place to jump in unless you asked me, and when you didn’t, well, that told me everything I needed to know.
Yes, our relationship had a use-by date, and it was in the next few days.
I was thinking, she said, that you might come with me, you can make cabinets anywhere.
I could, but I think the real problem wasn’t just the job. It was everything around her and going with her, that would just be a constant reminder of what had been holding her back. I didn’t want that for her and said so.
Then the only question left was, what do we do now?
Go shopping for suitcases. Bags to pack, and places to go.
Getting on the roller coaster is easy. In the beginning, it’s a slow easy ride, followed by a slow climb to the top. It’s much like some relationships, they start out easy, but they require a little work to get to the next level, follows by the adrenaline rush when it all comes together.
What most people forget is that what comes down must go back up, and life is pretty much a roller coaster with highs and lows.
Our roller coaster had just come or of the final turn and we were braking so that it stops at the station.
There was no question of going with her to New York. Yes, I promised I’d come over and visit her, but that was a promise with crossed fingers behind my back. After a few months in the new job, the last thing she want was a reminder of what she left behind. New friends new life.
We packed her bags, threw out everything she didn’t want, a few trips to the op shop with stuff she knew others would like to have, and basically, by the time she was ready to go, there was nothing left of her in the apartment, or anywhere.
Her friends would be seeing her off at the airport, and that’s when I told her I was not coming, that moment the taxi arrived to take her away forever. I remember standing there, watching the taxi go. It was going to be, and was, as hard as it was to watch the plane leave.
So, there I was, finally staring at the blank sky, around me were a dozen other plane spotters, a rather motley crew of plane enthusiasts.
Already that morning there’s been 6 different types of planes departing, and I could hear another winding up its engines for take-off.
People coming, people going.
Maybe I would go to New York in a couple of months, not to see her, but just to see what the attraction was. Or maybe I would drop in, just to see how she was.
As one of my friends told me when I gave him the news, the future is never written in stone, and it’s about time you broadened your horizons.
Thrills, Spills, and just a dash of Romance 