Month: May 2025

An excerpt from “Betrayal” – a work in progress

It could have been anywhere in the world, she thought, but it wasn’t.  It was in a city where if anything were to go wrong…

She sighed and came away from the window and looked around the room.  It was quite large and expensively furnished.  It was one of several she had been visiting in the last three months.

Quite elegant too, as the hotel had its origins dating back to before the revolution in 1917.  At least, currently, there would not be a team of KGB agents somewhere in the basement monitoring everything that happened in the room.

There was no such thing as the KGB anymore, though there was an FSB, but such organisations were of no interest to her.

She was here to meet with Vladimir.

She smiled to herself when she thought of him, such an interesting man whose command of English was as good as her command of Russian, though she had not told him of that ability.

All he knew of her was that she was American, worked in the Embassy as a clerk, nothing important, whose life both at work and at home was boring.  Not that she had blurted that out the first they met, or even the second.

That first time, at a function in the Embassy, was a chance meeting, a catching of his eye as he looked around the room, looking, as he had told her later, for someone who might not be as boring as the function itself.

It was a celebration, honouring one of the Embassy officials on his service in Moscow, and the fact he was returning home after 10 years.  She had been there once, and still hadn’t met all the staff.

They had talked, Vladimir knew a great deal about England, having been stationed there for a year or two, and had politely asked questions about where she lived, her family, and of course what her role was, all questions she fended off with an air of disinterested interest.

It fascinated him, as she knew it would, a sort of mental sparring as one would do with swords if this was a fencing match.

They had said they might or might not meet again when the party was over, but she suspected there would be another opportunity.  She knew the signs of a man who was interested in her, and Vladimir was interested.

The second time came in the form of an invitation to an art gallery, and a viewing of the works of a prominent Russian artist, an invitation she politely declined.  After all, invitations issued to Embassy staff held all sorts of connotations, or so she was told by the Security officer when she told him.

Then, it went quiet for a month.  There was a party at the American embassy and along with several other staff members, she was invited.  She had not expected to meet Vladimir, but it was a pleasant surprise when she saw him, on the other side of the room, talking to several military men.

A pleasant afternoon ensued.

And it was no surprise that they kept running into each other at the various events on the diplomatic schedule.

By the fifth meeting, they were like old friends.  She had broached the subject of being involved in a plutonic relationship with him with the head of security at the embassy.  Normally for a member of her rank, it would not be allowed, but in this instance it was.

She did not work in any sensitive areas, and, as the security officer had said, she might just happen upon something that might be useful.  In that regard, she was to keep her eyes and ears open and file a report each time she met him.

After that discussion, she got the impression her superiors considered Vladimir more than just a casual visitor on the diplomatic circuit.  She also formed the impression that he might consider her an ‘asset’, a word that had been used at the meeting with security and the ambassador.

It was where the word ‘spy’ popped into her head and sent a tingle down her spine.  She was not a spy, but the thought of it, well, it would be fascinating to see what happened.

A Russian friend.  That’s what she would call him.

And over time, that relationship blossomed, until, after a visit to the ballet, late and snowing, he invited her to his apartment not far from the ballet venue.  It was like treading on thin ice, but after champagne and an introduction to caviar, she felt like a giddy schoolgirl.

Even so, she had made him promise that he remain on his best behaviour.  It could have been very easy to fall under the spell of a perfect evening, but he promised, showed her to a separate bedroom, and after a brief kiss, their first, she did not see him until the next morning.

So, it began.

It was an interesting report she filed after that encounter, one where she had expected to be reprimanded.

She wasn’t.

It wasn’t until six weeks had passed when he asked her if she would like to take a trip to the country.  It would involve staying in a hotel, that they would have separate rooms.  When she reported the invitation, no objection was raised, only a caution; keep her wits about her.

Perhaps, she had thought, they were looking forward to a more extensive report.  After all, her reports on the places, and the people, and the conversations she overheard, were no doubt entertaining reading for some.

But this visit was where the nature of the relationship changed, and it was one that she did not immediately report.  She had realised at some point before the weekend away, that she had feelings for him, and it was not that he was pushing her in that direction or manipulating her in any way.

It was just one of those moments where, after a grand dinner, a lot of champagne, and delightful company, things happen.  Standing at the door to her room, a lingering kiss, not intentional on her part, and it just happened.

And for not one moment did she believe she had been compromised, but for some reason she had not reported that subtle change in the relationship to the powers that be, and so far, no one had any inkling.

She took off her coat and placed it carefully of the back of one of the ornate chairs in the room.  She stopped for a moment to look at a framed photograph on the wall, one representing Red Square.

Then, after a minute or two, she went to the mini bar and took out the bottle of champagne that had been left there for them, a treat arranged by Vladimir for each encounter.

There were two champagne flutes set aside on the bar, next to a bowl of fruit.  She picked up the apple and thought how Eve must have felt in the garden of Eden, and the temptation.

Later perhaps, after…

She smiled at the thought and put the apple back.

A glance at her watch told her it was time for his arrival.  It was if anything, the one trait she didn’t like, and that was his punctuality.  A glance at the clock on the room wall was a minute slow.

The doorbell to the room rang, right on the appointed time.

She put the bottle down and walked over to the door.

A smile on her face, she opened the door.

It was not Vladimir.  It was her worst nightmare.

…

© Charles Heath 2020

In a word: Joe

Aside from being the short form of the name Joseph, ie a man’s name, there is also a derivative for women, Jo.

The name Joe is said to be used from the mid-1800s.

My favourite Joe name is Joe Bloggs, and he features in some of my stories.

It’s anonymous enough for someone to use as a cover when booking into a sleazy motel and is a little more refined than Smith or Jones, names that more than likely already feature in the register.

Jo could be a short form for Josephine, a name I’m sure some women would prefer not to be called.

But…

Did you know it’s also a name given to a cup of coffee?

Well, that didn’t make much of a splash.  I don’t think anyone these days refers to coffee as Joe because there are so many different variations with names I couldn’t pronounce let alone spell, I think it’s been lost in the mists of time because there was only one type of coffee.

It was called coffee.  Funny about that.

However…

There is another definition, and that is for the ‘average Joe’, an ordinary fellow who works for a living.

Odd, because I thought that was what most of us did, but perhaps it refers to tradespeople, or blue collar workers, not the white collar brigade.

Hang on, isn’t there a GI Joe, a universal description of the average soldier?

An excerpt from “Sunday in New York”

Now available on Amazon at:  https://amzn.to/2H7ALs8

…

Williams’ Restaurant, East 65th Street, New York, Saturday, 8:00 p.m.

We met the Blaine’s at Williams’, a rather upmarket restaurant that the Blaine’s frequently visited, and had recommended.

Of course, during the taxi ride there, Alison reminded me that with my new job, we would be able to go to many more places like Williams’.  It was, at worst, more emotional blackmail, because as far as Alison was concerned, we were well on our way to posh restaurants, the Trump Tower Apartments, and the trappings of the ‘executive set’.

It would be a miracle if I didn’t strangle Elaine before the night was over.  It was she who had filled Alison’s head with all this stuff and nonsense.

Aside from the half frown half-smile, Alison was looking stunning.  It was months since she had last dressed up, and she was especially wearing the dress I’d bought her for our 5th anniversary that cost a month’s salary.  On her, it was worth it, and I would have paid more if I had to.  She had adored it, and me, for a week or so after.

For tonight, I think I was close to getting back on that pedestal.

She had the looks and figure to draw attention, the sort movie stars got on the red carpet, and when we walked into the restaurant, I swear there were at least five seconds silence, and many more gasps.

Even I had a sudden loss of breath earlier in the evening when she came out of the dressing room.  Once more I was reminded of how lucky I was that she had agreed to marry me.  Amid all those self-doubts, I couldn’t believe she had loved me when there were so many others ‘out there’ who were more appealing.

Elaine was out of her seat and came over just as the Head Waiter hovered into sight.  She personally escorted Alison to the table, allowing me to follow like the Queen’s consort, while she and Alison basked in the admiring glances of the other patrons.

More than once I heard the muted question, “Who is she?”

Jimmy stood, we shook hands, and then we sat together.  It was not the usual boy, girl, boy, girl seating arrangement.  Jimmy and I on one side and Elaine and Alison on the other.

The battle lines were drawn.

Jimmy was looking fashionable, with the permanent blade one beard, unkempt hair, and designer dinner suit that looked like he’d slept in it.  Alison insisted I wear a tuxedo, and I looked like the proverbial penguin or just a thinner version of Alfred Hitchcock.

The bow tie had been slightly crooked, but just before we stepped out she had straightened it.  And took the moment to look deeply into my soul.  It was one of those moments when words were not necessary.

Then it was gone.

I relived it briefly as I sat and she looked at me.  A penetrating look that told me to ‘behave’.

When we were settled, Elaine said, in that breathless, enthusiastic manner of hers when she was excited, “So, Harry, you are finally moving up.”  It was not a question, but a statement.

I was not sure what she meant by ‘finally’ but I accepted it with good grace.  Sometimes Elaine was prone to using figures of speech I didn’t understand.  I guessed she was talking about the new job.  “It was supposed to be a secret.”

She smiled widely.  “There are no secrets between Al and I, are there Al?”

I looked at ‘Al’ and saw a brief look of consternation.

I was not sure Alison liked the idea of being called Al.  I tried it once and was admonished.  But it was interesting her ‘best friend forever’ was allowed that distinction when I was not.  It was, perhaps, another indicator of how far I’d slipped in her estimation.

Perhaps, I thought, it was a necessary evil.  As I understood it, the Blaine’s were our mentors at the Trump Tower, because they didn’t just let ‘anyone’ in.  I didn’t ask if the Blaine’s thought we were just ‘anyone’ before I got the job offer.

And then there was that look between Alison and Elaine, quickly stolen before Alison realized I was looking at both of them.  I was out of my depth, in a place I didn’t belong, with people I didn’t understand.  And yet, apparently, Alison did.  I must have missed the memo.

“No,” Alison said softly, stealing a glance in my direction, “No secrets between friends.”

No secrets.  Her look conveyed something else entirely.

The waiter brought champagne, Krug, and poured glasses for each of us.  It was not the cheap stuff, and I was glad I brought a couple of thousand dollars with me.  We were going to need it.

Then, a toast.

To a new job and a new life.

“When did you decide?”  Elaine was effusive at the best of times, but with the champagne, it was worse.

Alison had a strange expression on her face.  It was obvious she had told Elaine it was a done deal, even before I’d made up my mind.  Perhaps she’d assumed I might be ‘refreshingly honest’ in front of Elaine, but it could also mean she didn’t really care what I might say or do.

Instead of consternation, she looked happy, and I realized it would be churlish, even silly if I made a scene.  I knew what I wanted to say.  I also knew that it would serve little purpose provoking Elaine, or upsetting Alison.  This was not the time or the place.  Alison had been looking forward to coming here, and I was not going to spoil it.

Instead, I said, smiling, “When I woke up this morning and found Alison missing.  If she had been there, I would not have noticed the water stain on the roof above our bed, and decide there and then how much I hated the place.” I used my reassuring smile, the one I used with the customers when all hell was breaking loose, and the forest fire was out of control.  “It’s the little things.  They all add up until one day …”  I shrugged.  “I guess that one day was today.”

I saw an incredulous look pass between Elaine and Alison, a non-verbal question; perhaps, is he for real?  Or; I told you he’d come around.

I had no idea the two were so close.

“How quaint,” Elaine said, which just about summed up her feelings towards me.  I think, at that moment, I lost some brownie points.  It was all I could come up with at short notice.

“Yes,” I added, with a little more emphasis than I wanted.  “Alison was off to get some study in with one of her friends.”

“Weren’t the two of you off to the Hamptons, a weekend with some friends?” Jimmy piped up, and immediately got the ‘shut up you fool’ look, that cut that line of conversation dead.  Someone forgot to feed Jimmy his lines.

It was followed by the condescending smile from Elaine, and “I need to powder my nose.  Care to join me, Al?”

A frown, then a forced smile for her new best friend.  “Yes.”

I watched them leave the table and head in the direction of the restroom, looking like they were in earnest conversation.  I thought ‘Al’ looked annoyed, but I could be wrong.

I had to say Jimmy looked more surprised than I did.

There was that odd moment of silence between us, Jimmy still smarting from his death stare, and for me, the Alison and Elaine show.  I was quite literally gob-smacked.

I drained my champagne glass gathering some courage and turned to him.  “By the way, we were going to have a weekend away, but this legal tutorial thing came up.  You know Alison is doing her law degree.”

He looked startled when he realized I had spoken.  He was looking intently at a woman several tables over from us, one who’d obviously forgotten some basic garments when getting dressed.  Or perhaps it was deliberate.  She’d definitely had some enhancements done.

He dragged his eyes back to me.  “Yes.  Elaine said something or other about it.  But I thought she said the tutor was out of town and it had been postponed until next week.  Perhaps I got it wrong.  I usually do.”

“Perhaps I’ve got it wrong.”  I shrugged, as the dark thoughts started swirling in my head again.  “This week or next, what does it matter?”

Of course, it mattered to me, and I digested what he said with a sinking heart.  It showed there was another problem between Alison and me; it was possible she was now telling me lies.  If what he said was true and I had no reason to doubt him, where was she going tomorrow morning, and had she really been with a friend studying today?

We poured some more champagne, had a drink, then he asked, “This promotion thing, what’s it worth?”

“Trouble, I suspect.  Definitely more money, but less time at home.”

“Oh,” raised eyebrows.  Obviously, the women had not talked about the job in front of him, or, at least, not all the details.  “You sure you want to do that?”

At last the voice of reason.  “Me?  No.”

“Yet you accepted the job.”

I sucked in a breath or two while I considered whether I could trust him.  Even if I couldn’t, I could see my ship was sinking, so it wouldn’t matter what I told him, or what Elaine might find out from him.  “Jimmy, between you and me I haven’t as yet decided one way or another.  To be honest, I won’t know until I go up to Barclay’s office and he asks me the question.”

“Barclay?”

“My boss.”

“Elaine’s doing a job for a Barclay that recently moved in the tower a block down from us.  I thought I recognized the name.”

“How did Elaine get the job?”

“Oh, Alison put him onto her.”

“When?”

“A couple of months ago.  Why?”

I shrugged and tried to keep a straight face, while my insides were churning up like the wake of a supertanker.  I felt sick, faint, and wanting to die all at the same moment.  “Perhaps she said something about it, but it didn’t connect at the time.  Too busy with work I expect.  I think I seriously need to get away for a while.”

I could hardly breathe, my throat was constricted and I knew I had to keep it together.  I could see Elaine and Alison coming back, so I had to calm down.  I sucked in some deep breaths, and put my ‘manage a complete and utter disaster’ look on my face.

And I had to change the subject, quickly, so I said, “Jimmy, Elaine told Alison, who told me, you were something of a guru of the cause and effects of the global economic meltdown.  Now, I have a couple of friends who have been expounding this theory …”

Like flicking a switch, I launched into the well-worn practice of ‘running a distraction’, like at work when we needed to keep the customer from discovering the truth.  It was one of the things I was good at, taking over a conversation and pushing it in a different direction.  It was salvaging a good result from an utter disaster, and if ever there was a time that it was required, it was right here, right now.

When Alison sat down and looked at me, she knew something had happened between Jimmy and I.  I might have looked pale or red-faced, or angry or disappointed, it didn’t matter.  If that didn’t seal the deal for her, the fact I took over the dining engagement did.  She knew well enough the only time I did that was when everything was about to go to hell in a handbasket.  She’d seen me in action before and had been suitably astonished.

But I got into gear, kept the champagne flowing and steered the conversation, as much as one could from a seasoned professional like Elaine, and, I think, in Jimmy’s eyes, he saw the battle lines and knew who took the crown on points.  Neither Elaine nor Jimmy suspected anything, and if the truth be told, I had improved my stocks with Elaine.  She was at times both surprised and interested, even willing to take a back seat.

Alison, on the other hand, tried poking around the edges, and, once when Elaine and Jimmy had got up to have a cigarette outside, questioned me directly.  I chose to ignore her, and pretend nothing had happened, instead of telling her how much I was enjoying the evening.

She had her ‘secrets’.  I had mine.

At the end of the evening, when I got up to go to the bathroom, I was physically sick from the pent up tension and the implications of what Jimmy had told me.  It took a while for me to pull myself together; so long, in fact, Jimmy came looking for me.  I told him I’d drunk too much champagne, and he seemed satisfied with that excuse.  When I returned, both Alison and Elaine noticed how pale I was but neither made any comment.

It was a sad way to end what was supposed to be a delightful evening, which to a large degree it was for the other three.  But I had achieved what I set out to do, and that was to play them at their own game, watching the deception, once I knew there was a deception, as warily as a cat watches its prey.

I had also discovered Jimmy’s real calling; a professor of economics at the same University Alison was doing her law degree.  It was no surprise in the end, on a night where surprises abounded, that the world could really be that small.

We parted in the early hours of the morning, a taxi whisking us back to the Lower East Side, another taking the Blaine’s back to the Upper West Side.  But, in our case, as Alison reminded me, it would not be for much longer.  She showed concern for my health, asked me what was wrong.  It took all the courage I could muster to tell her it was most likely something I ate and the champagne, and that I would be fine in the morning.

She could see quite plainly it was anything other than what I told her, but she didn’t pursue it.  Perhaps she just didn’t care what I was playing at.

And yet, after everything that had happened, once inside our ‘palace’, the events of the evening were discarded, like her clothing, and she again reminded me of what we had together in the early years before the problems had set in.

It left me confused and lost.

I couldn’t sleep because my mind had now gone down that irreversible path that told me I was losing her, that she had found someone else, and that our marriage was in its last death throes.

And now I knew it had something to do with Barclay.

© Charles Heath 2015-2020

Sunday In New York

A few days without distractions – almost impossible!

I just spent a week away in one of our favourite places, in a cottage in the hills not far from the Gold Coast in Queensland.

The location is in a valley, at the bottom of which is a small creek.  There is nothing but farming land in every direction, and it’s a place where you can luxuriate in the silence, when not being interrupted by the sounds of wildlife and farm animals.

The serenity is simply amazing.

You can use it as a base because everything you could want is no more than two hours in any direction, but for us, there is no reason to leave the cottage.  We come for relaxation and to wind completely down, away from everything.

The good news is there’s no TV, and the internet and phone coverage are terrible at best, which means you need to find alternate ways of relaxing.

I can’t tell you how good it is not to be addicted to TV news, not to have the internet calling you via social media, and not have the phone ring once in four days.  After you get past that first day of withdrawal symptoms are nearly as bad as coming down off drugs.

Except…

This time I had a mission, to take the time to finish off one of my books. The Enchanted Horse, a story I’ve been promising my grandchildren I’d finish for the last five years.

There just never seems to be time at home with all the distractions, you know those trappings of modern life, the phone, the internet, TV.

And, the good news is I managed to review, collate and generally structure the 700 odd pages I’d already written, and comprehensively outline the last few remaining chapters so I can finally finish the first draft.

The other job that became apparent about one-third of the way through, was that the story is too big for one book, and now it is three, each instalment about 300 pages long, and it gave me the opportunity to write bridging chapters, a sort of the story so far, which will also serve as synopsis I can send to prospective publishers.

All in all, huge progress was made.

Pity I could stay for a month.  I have so much that needs doing without distraction

The cinema of my dreams – I always wanted to see the planets – Episode 3

Meanwhile, space is still waiting…

…

Back on the spaceship, after a last glance at the screen that had the same planets, just in a different perspective, and representing what we’re heading to:

It’s still debatable whether we’re going to get out of the dock.

The Captain requested me to go down and personally find out what was happening down in the bowels of the ship, and I’d just risked life and limb in the elevator that wasn’t working properly not 24 hours before. Now, the doors having opened, and after a huge sigh of relief, I step into the maelstrom.

The engine room, if it could be called that, looks like a shopping mall at Christmas, with the centre piece looking like a set of constantly strobing lights, and around it, people with computer pads, looking for answers.

I doubt whether any or all of the information they required was going to be in the central computer system because it was too new.

Whatever happened to paper manuals? Oh, sorry, that was so twenty first century.

I felt like I was walking against the tide until I see the Chief Engineer, hands in pockets, not look in the least perturbed.

No, he’s not Scottish. To be honest, I’m not sure where he comes from, I hadn’t got acquainted in the short time we’ve all been aboard.

He sees me coming, and I’m surprised he knows who I am.

“Captain send you?”

He broke away from one of his assistants, and turned towards me.

“He could have just asked you himself,” I said.

He shook his head. “He doesn’t work like that. Prefers the personal touch.”

“What’s happening?”

“Everything and nothing. New modifications are not infallible, but it appears to be just a glitch. The builders are on it, so we’ll have an answer soon.”

“Your opinion?”

“Doesn’t pay to have opinions, only answers.”

A wave from the other side of the room was accompanied by a change in the strobing lights, and a different sound.

“Good news,” he said. “By the time you get back to the bridge, everything will be fine.”

The activity hadn’t lessened given the resolution. “You sure?”

“Nothing’s written in stone. Try crossing your fingers.” With that he left me, and I headed towards to the lift.

…

© Charles Heath 2021

A photograph from the inspirational bin – 3

This is a rocky piece of coastline, adjacent to the city by the sea.

It’s highly urbanized, and just behind where I was standing to take this photo, there’s a large carpark, a restaurant, and several shops, as well as a long pier to walk on.

On this side, about 100 yards put is a reef, popular with divers, and the day I took this there we several divers out.

But, if you discounted all of that knowledge and just let your imagination run free, there are so many other possibilities

Like, scoping out a landing spot to bring ashore contraband on what might be a very desolate spot, access gained only by walking along and hazardous path.

Like there might be an imminent landing of foreign soldiers about to set up the start of a clandestine incursion, before a more formal invasion.  Or just one person, a foreign spy.

Or a couple of friends having a picnic away from the madding crowd.

It needs a little more thought.

Writing a book in 365 days – 109/110

Days 109 and 110

Writing exercise – a conversation in a restaurant, what they ordered last time, what they’re eating this time, what they like or dislike about the place, and how long since their last visit.

…

Just as I was walking out of the front entrance of my apartment block, I received a message.

The ring tone that went with it was a special one, attached to my mother, and it had been the first since I last left home two years ago.

And it was about the same person, a girl I went to school with, who I came to New York with after we graduated and where she only stayed for two weeks, I had stayed for two years.

He mail was short and succinct.  Nina was back for the day.  There was no reason why, and it was as cryptic as any of her messages.  I shrugged.  In a city as big as this, there was no way I’d see her, and for that reason, I simply shrugged and went to work, thinking no more of it.

I had bigger issues, the fact it was going to be a promotion or resignation.  I’d paid my dues, and it was time.

Of course, things rarely play out in reality the way they do in your mind.  All the way in, I went over all the scenarios, all the reasons, all the evidence meticulously collected to show Eaterson, the man who held my future in his hands.

He had even said, as recently as the week before, that I was due for a promotion for all the hard work and excellent results.  I had high hopes.

Instead, I walked out of his office, unemployed.  There had been much discussion during the previous week, with various candidates being put forward, and in the end, a rival won the day.  My turn was not far away, but I decided it was now or never.

There was not much resistance when I proffered my resignation, which meant his platitudes were rather hollow, so I handed him the document and told him I could go in two weeks or right now.

It was immediate, and was escorted to the door.

Things happen for a reason.  It just doesn’t appear to be the case at the time, but often becomes apparent later on.

Outside the door, looking back, I shrugged.  If anything, it had been a stepping stone to be chalked up to experience.  Right then, I had no idea how it would help me later on, but there would be time for rumination later.

I’d timed my meeting so that if it did or didn’t go south, I would be able to celebrate or commiserate at my favourite restaurant not far from the office.

For the first time in years, I was not in a hurry and could amble along the sidewall like a tourist rather than a harried employee. 

Outside, going to open the door, my hand reached the same time as another and when I stepped back, seeing it was a lady and manners took over. When she turned to thank me, I saw it was Nina.

She also stepped back and smiled.  “Kevin.”

“Nina!”

I opened the door, and she went through, and I followed her.  We stepped up to the front desk together. 

“Are you here to meet someone?”

“As it happens, yes.  You.  If you remember, we used to come here once a week, on a Thursday, which is today.  I had hoped you would still come here, and you do.”

The girl came back to the desk after taking another couple to a table.

“Are you together?” She asked.

I looked at Nina.

“If you are not here to see someone else?” Nina said.

“I’m not.”

“Then,” the girl said, “You are together.  Follow me.”

We weaved between the tables to the back near the bar and sat, almost the same table we had sat the last time we had eaten there, the day Nina left to go home.

Drink order taken, she left us with menus.  I think we both knew what we were having.

“Remember that last lunch, nearly two years ago, you said that I should try the lobster.  It was very expensive, but you said it would be a perfect way to cap off what had been a wonderful two weeks.  Lobster and champagne.”

“You never said.”

“I loved it, but it was expensive.”

“Then we shall have it again. It will be my treat.”

“I can pay my share.”

There was an element of the same defensiveness she always had if she thought her integrity was being impugned.  It was, if anything, the only fault she had.  On my part, after time to think about it, I could see why she didn’t like the idea of my paying for her.  I’d always believe it was my responsibility if I asked her out and forgot that we lived in a different world from the one my parents expected me to live in.

“And so you shall.  I’m sorry.  I keep forgetting.”

The drinks arrived as we ordered.  “I hope the service has improved.  They used to take forever.”

That was two years ago, even a year ago, but the management had changed, and everything changed.  It had become more professional and more orientated towards business people who were under a time limit.  I told her that since then, the service has been spectacular.

A few sips of the champagne and a few moments to see she had not changed, except in hair colour and length.  I had missed her, and my feelings towards her had not changed.  And I knew she had not found and married another guy since returning home.  Mother took an interest in matters like that.

“How is your job?  Did you reach the divisional manager?”

She knew my master plan and where I would be by now.  It was the job I had just missed put on.

“No.”

“Still at Benders?”

“No.”

“Oh.  What happened?”

“They didn’t give me the promotion.”

“OK.  Where are you now?”

“Here with you.”

“I mean…  Oh.  Do I assume that you resigned?”

“I did.”

“Can you afford not to have a job?”

“No.  That’s why I’m coming home.  I have a few things to clear up, and then I’m on the plane.  Silly question, but why are you here?”

“I wanted to see you, see how you were going.”

“And…”

“Does there have to be an and?”  Furrowed brow, the prelude to a frown.

“No.  I’m just curious.  It’s just that you were always the one who never did anything without a reason.”

“Well, I’ve changed.  I came here to see you.  I took the chance that you would still eat at the same restaurant.  I had not expected you would not have a job.  I came to ask you if there was any chance you might be coming home soon.”

“Then you did have a reason.”

She sighed.  “Just answer the question.”

When I took a few seconds to consider the possible reasons, and knowing her as well as I did, I came to an interesting conclusion, one that caused a sudden ache in my heart.

Back when we graduated and went to the prom together, at some point we promised each other that we would tell the other if we were going to marry someone else.  It had been a given back then that we would marry the other when we achieved success.  I hadn’t, and not hearing from her believed she hadn’t either.

Perhaps I was wrong.

“Tomorrow, but probably in a day or two.  I have to finalise a few details before I can leave.  I’m sure my parents will be glad to see me.  Why?”

“Because I really don’t want to marry Giles.”

“Westerby?”

“My mother thinks I’m about to become an old maid left on the shelf and working her way through Oldbury County’s eligible bachelors.  Giles is the latest and he’s keen.”

“Because no one else will take him.”

“Perhaps, but he can provide a girl a life of luxury to which she could become accustomed.”

“Is that what you want?”

“Of there’s nothing else in the offing.  According to my mother, my childbearing days are rapidly diminishing.”

“You’re barely into your mid-20s.”

“You know, mother’s.  You also have one, and she longs to hold a grandchild, yours preferably, and more likely than one from your brothers.”  She shrugged.  “We could go home and pretend we’re engaged.  It’d solve the Giles problem, and we could string the engagement out for a few months and then let it fizzle.”

“Or we could just get married.  I mean, we always said we would.  If no one else wanted us or had first right of refusal.”

“Would you still want to.  I mean, we were silly kids back then, all starry-eyed and full of impossible plans.”

“I meant it.  Didn’t you?”

“I did, but I never thought you’d remember.  I thought you were just saying what I wanted to hear.”

“I loved you more than anything.  It broke my heart when you went home.”

“I had to.  I missed home too much.  You were the only one, and as you can see, I waited.  And then I’m here giving you first right of refusal.”

“That sounds pretty awful, doesn’t it?”

“I can’t think of a better way of putting it.  You are my first and, to be truthful, only preference.  But, if you have had a change of heart…”

“I have not.  Let’s have lunch, I think I can see it coming now, and afterwards, we’ll go to Tiffany’s.  If we’re going to do this, let’s do it in style.” I took both her hands in mine.  “Oh, and just to be formal, will you marry me?”

“Fine.  I had hoped it might be more traditional, but yes.”

I kissed her hand.  “Excellent.  We will make a stop after going to Tiffany’s.  There’s a special spot in Central Park where I’m told you can propose.  We’ll get a horse and carriage and flowers.”

“And photographs.”  She smiled.

“And photographs.”

“You knew I was coming, didn’t you?”

“No.  But my horoscope this morning was too coincidental to not come true.  An old friend will come back into your life, causing you to make a life-changing decision.”

Glasses refilled, toast made, lunch arriving at the table, everything had turned out as I expected it would.

…

©  Charles Heath  2025

Searching for locations: Taurangi, it’s an interesting town

Located at the bottom of Lake Taupo, in New Zealand, staying here would make more sense if you were here for the fishing, and, well, the skiing or the hiking, or just a relaxing half hour in the thermal pools.

I saw a sign somewhere that said that Taurangi was New Zealand’s premier fishing spot. I might have got the wrong, but it seems to me they’re right. On the other side of town, heading towards Taupo, there’s a lodge that puts up fly fishermen, and where you can see a number of them in an adjacent river trying their luck.

It’s what I would be doing if I had the patience.

But Taurangi is a rather central place to stay, located at the southernmost point of the lake. From there it is not far from the snowfields of Whakapapa and Turoa. Equally, at different times of the year, those ski fields become walking or hiking tracks, and the opportunity to look into a dormant volcano, Ruapehu.

It is basically surrounded by hills and mountains on three sides and a lake on the other. Most mornings, and certainly everyone is different, there is a remarkable sunrise, particularly from where we were staying on the lake, where it could be cloudy, clear, or just cold and refreshing, with a kaleidoscope of colors from the rising sun.

I don’t think I’ve been there to see two days the same.

However, Taurangi, on most days we’ve visited, is even more desolate than Taupo, both on the main street and the central mall. The same couldn’t be said for the precinct where New World, the local supermarket, a Z petrol station can be found. There it is somewhat more lively. The fact there’s a few more shops and a restaurant might help traffic flow.

There is also a mini golf course, and in the middle of winter, it is a bleak place to be, especially in the threatening rain, and the wind. It had also seen better days and in parts, in need of a spruce up, but it’s winter, and there are no crowds, so I guess it will wait till the Spring.

In the mall, there’s the expected bank, newsagent, gift shop and post office combined, and a number of other gift shops/galleries. But the best place is the café which I’ve never seen empty and has an extended range of pies pastries and cakes, along with the fast food staples of chips and chicken.
Oh, and you can also get a decent cup of coffee there.

There are two other coffee shops but we found this one the first time we came, we were given a warm welcome and assistance, and have never thought to go anywhere else, despite two known change of owners.

But despite all these reasons why someone might want to stay there, we don’t.

We have a timeshare, and there’s a timeshare in Pukaki called Oreti Village. That’s where we stay.

The cinema of my dreams – I always wanted to go on a treasure hunt – Episode 6

My mind will not rest.

Down here, it is summer, and the last few days have been rather hot, well, it is summer after all, but tonight it is particularly hot.

So, as I can’t sleep, I’m lying on the couch staring at the ceiling, otherwise known as the cinema of my dreams.

Where am I?

Well, the location is in keeping with the weather, hot, humid, and cold drinks are mandatory.

I’m going to get another one now!

…

There is such a thing as being in the right place at the right time, as much as there is being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

I think I got a dose of both that morning.

I ignored the call from Boggs reluctantly, but I still had the world-weary look on my mother’s face fresh in my memory.  As much as I didn’t want to, I headed towards the warehouse and the office where old man Benderby would be, in his Italian suit and cigar, the signs of his prosperity.

Everyone hated him.

In the employee car park, opposite the front gate, I could see Rico and one of Benderby’s sons in earnest conversation.  The sons were as bad as the father, and because we went to school with them, and they were bullies then, not much had changed.

I was curious and tried to get closer, without being seen.

Benderby Junior was yelling, “You’re as useless as that brother in law of yours.  He thought he was smarter than us too, and look what happened to him.  You still owe us ten grand Rico, and my father is getting impatient.”

“Look, I have a special project, it’ll take a few weeks, then you’ll get your money.”

“It better not be some treasure hunt I hear you’re on.  There is no treasure.  That was what your brother in law tried to float, said he had a real map but never showed it to anyone.  It doesn’t exist.  He offered to sell it to me.  Do I look like a fool?”

“No.  But, it’s real.  I’ve seen it.”

Benderby just shook his head.  “Tell you what.  Bring it to me, and if I think it’s real, then we’ll talk.”

With that, Benderby Junior walked off.

Rico didn’t look happy.  Not surprising, because if Benderby thought it was real, then Rico just lost the rights to the treasure.  Or, most likely, any part of it.

Telling Benderby was the last thing he should have done.

 

I went it to the office where I was greeted by the girl on reception.  I;d been to school with her, and she had been friends with Alex Benderby.  It was how she got the job.  It was not what you knew, it was who you knew.

I also knew Alex Benderby, but it was not the same.  He didn’t like people who were smarter than he was, we were, he once told me, threats.  To what, I had no idea.

“Sam.  How are you, haven’t seen you for a while.”

We had been friends of a sort at school, but now working for Benderby, she moved in different social circles.

“Fine, Jenny, as well as can be expected.”  Not one for small talk, I cut to the chase.  “I came to see if there was a job.  My mother keeps at me to do something with my life other than hanging out at home waiting for a ship to come in.”

“I thought you were going to university?”

“Needs money we haven’t got.

At that moment Alex walked in and saw me.  His face was all hostility.

“What are you doing here?”

“The same as every other unemployed person is, looking for work.”

“I thought you university types were too good to work in the warehouse?”  No mistaking the sneer in his tone, or the superiority.

“Alex.”  A bark from behind made both Alex and Jenny jump.  “Get the hell back to work.”  Then he saw me.  “You’re Grace’s kid, Sam?”

“Yes, sir.”  I may hate him but I still knew how to be polite.

“Grace told me you were coming down.”  He looked at Jenny.  “Tell Williams I’m sending over his new paperwork guy.  Tell him I said to treat him properly or he’ll answer to me.”  Then back at me.  “Say hello to your mother from e when you see her.  And that she still owed me dinner.”

Then he was gone.

“Congratulations,” Jenny said.  “Right place, right time.”

It seemed so.

© Charles Heath 2019-2021

Skeletons in the closet, and doppelgangers

A story called “Mistaken Identity”

…

How many of us have skeletons in the closet that we know nothing about? The skeletons we know about generally stay there, but those we do not, well, they have a habit of coming out of left field when we least expect it.

In this case, when you see your photo on a TV screen with the accompanying text that says you are wanted by every law enforcement agency in Europe, you’re in a state of shock, only to be compounded by those same police, armed and menacing, kicking the door down.

I’d been thinking about this premise for a while after I discovered my mother had a boyfriend before she married my father, a boyfriend who was, by all accounts, the man who was the love of her life.

Then, in terms of coming up with an idea for a story, what if she had a child by him that we didn’t know about, which might mean I had a half brother or sister I knew nothing about. It’s not an uncommon occurrence from what I’ve been researching.

There are many ways of putting a spin on this story.

Then, in the back of my mind, I remembered a story an acquaintance at work was once telling us over morning tea, that a friend of a friend had a mother who had a twin sister and that each of the sisters had a son by the same father, without each knowing of the father’s actions, both growing up without the other having any knowledge of their half brother, only to meet by accident on the other side of the world.

It was an encounter that in the scheme of things might never have happened, and each would have remained oblivious of the other.

For one sister, the relationship was over before she discovered she was pregnant, and therefore had not told the man he was a father. It was no surprise the relationship foundered when she discovered he was also having a relationship with her sister, a discovery that caused her to cut all ties with both of them and never speak to either from that day.

It’s a story with more twists and turns than a country lane!

And a great idea for a story.

That story is called ‘Mistaken Identity’.