Day 125

Writing exercise – Sometimes spontaneity is the most sparkling kind of beauty.

Let’s try!

…

I was sitting in the half light, almost mesmerised by the stroboscopic effect of the light reflecting off the slowly rotating fan.

On a relatively warm, balmy night after a hot day, I’d taken a moment to find an uninhabitable room for some reflection.

The chair was very comfortable, with a wide armrest that on one side rested a tumbler with ice and rum, with a splash of lime.  It wasn’t a drink I’d usually partake in, but tonight, it was almost sublime.

In front of me, the glass patio doors led out onto a paved area, then the southern lawn, and beyond that the sea, with the full moon both illuminating the gardens and shimmering on a calm ocean.

Evert now and then, the gentle breeze would ruffle the leaves of nearby bushes, adding to the soothing effect of near silence and half light.

It would be an understatement to say I was exhausted.  A few difficult cases that required navigating levels of society I was not accustomed to dealing with had left me at odds with both my superiors and the people they had to deal with.

Now, with the latest case solved, though I was not sure everyone was happy with the result, the parents of the young girl who had been assaulted and left for dead had invited me to a celebration of her return to society.

I wasn’t so sure it was what she wanted, but as I understood it, very few people denied her father’s wishes.

I heard a slight rustle to my left, towards the entrance to the room, and I turned my head slightly.

A tall, lissom young girl in a stunning evening gown that, by my estimation, would cost about a year’s salary was standing just inside the doorway.

She had a cocktail in one hand and a cigarette in the other.  The last time I’d seen a picture like that was on the cover of a Great Gatsby book.

“You’re a slippery fellow, aren’t you?”

It was a voice you would never expect from what you saw, one that managed to send shivers down my spine.

“Uncomfortable.”

She had greeted me at the door when I had arrived a few hours earlier, along with her father, mother, and older brother.

“You look rather elegant in a tuxedo.”

She took a few steps further into the room and stood framed by the doorway, with the moon at her back. 

She had physically recovered, but by my estimation, she would take a lot longer to mentally recover.  She had suffered badly at the hands of her attackers.

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Melissa.  I’m only here because your father insisted.  I don’t belong in this world.”

My mind went back to the day she came to visit and handed me the gold-embossed invitation.  I knew then that there was something else in play and did my best to convince her that my role in her life was over.

Being the one who found her and, for all intents and purposes, saved her, she had taken that as a sign.  Her father had recognised it, but for the sake of his ‘little girl’ asked me if I would indulge her until she recovered.

I had, and now it was time to move on.  The only one who didn’t understand was Melissa.

“It’s not fair.  I don’t think I will ever feel safe again.  Daddy just doesn’t understand.”

“I assure you, he does.  He cares a great deal about your welfare.”

“You understand.”

“I understand that you are still feeling vulnerable, and it’s to be expected.  Your father had employed security for you, and I helped him find the right person.  Anna is very good at what she does.”

“But. .”

“There are no buts, Melissa.”  I dragged myself out of the chair and went over to her. “I’ll take you back now.  Many people care about you, and they all want you to get on with your life.  I want you to get on with your life.”

Music drifted in from the ballroom, just down the passage and outside a front door. Her father had brought in a full orchestra. I would be lucky to have a gramophone.

She put down the glass and stubbed out the cigarette.  I watched the last tendrils of smoke rise and then disappear.

“We should dance,” she said, holding out her hand.

“Back in the ballroom.”

“On the patio.  I get self-conscious in front of all those people.  Please?”

One dance, I told myself.

…

©  Charles Heath  2025