We visited the falls in winter, just after Christmas, when it was all but frozen.
The weather was freezing, it was snowing, and very icy to walk anywhere near the falls
Getting photos is a matter of how much you want to risk your safety.
I know I slipped and fell several times on the ice just below the snowy surface in pursuit of the perfect photograph. Alas, I don’t think I succeeded.
The mist was generated from both the waterfall and the low cloud. It was impossible not to get wet just watching the falls.
Of course, unlike the braver people, you could not get me into one of the boats that headed towards the falls. I suspect there might be icebergs and wasn’t going to tempt the fate of another Titanic, even on a lesser scale. The water would be freezing.
You will not go outside, you will not go to the movies.
The word not, when used by your parents when you are a child is the key in the lock keeping you from having fun.
It is the very definition of everything negative, and much harsher than just a plain no.
That you will ‘not…’ has been the gateway for many an exploit or adventure, because anything you have done contrary to the ‘not’ is all that much sweeter.
Until you get into trouble, but, then, isn’t that how you learn life’s lessons?
But if you are a programmer like me, not takes on a whole new meaning in a language like,
‘If not like …. then’
meaning in layman’s terms if something isn’t like a specific value then do something else.
Hang on, isn’t that a bit like reality?
This is not to be confused with the word Knot which is,
A blemish in a piece of wood
The speed of a ship, winds, and sometimes a plane
But basically,
Something you tie to keep your shoes on, or around your finger to remind you to tie your shoes before getting on the 36-knot high-speed ferry made of knotty wood.
It is also something you find in tangled hair and is very painful trying to remove it.
It is also an unpleasant tightness in body muscles and you need a masseuse to get rid of them.
This story has been ongoing since I was seventeen, and just to let you know, I’m 72 this year.
Yes, it’s taken a long time to get it done.
Why, you might ask.
Well, I never gave it much interest because I started writing it after a small incident when I was 17, and working as a book packer for a book distributor in Melbourne
At the end of my first year, at Christmas, the employer had a Christmas party, and that year, it was at a venue in St Kilda.
I wasn’t going to go because at that age, I was an ordinary boy who was very introverted and basically scared of his own shadow and terrified by girls.
Back then, I would cross the street to avoid them
Also, other members of the staff in the shipping department were rough and ready types who were not backwards in telling me what happened, and being naive, perhaps they knew I’d be either shocked or intrigued.
I was both adamant I wasn’t coming and then got roped in on a dare.
Damn!
So, back then, in the early 70s, people looked the other way when it came to drinking, and of course, Dutch courage always takes away the concerns, especially when normally you wouldn’t do half the stuff you wouldn’t in a million years
I made it to the end, not as drunk and stupid as I thought I might be, and St Kilda being a salacious place if you knew where to look, my new friends decided to give me a surprise.
It didn’t take long to realise these men were ‘men about town’ as they kept saying, and we went on an odyssey. Yes, those backstreet brothels where one could, I was told, have anything they could imagine.
Let me tell you, large quantities of alcohol and imagination were a very bad mix.
So, the odyssey in ‘The things we do’ was based on that, and then the encounter with Diana. Well, let’s just say I learned a great deal about girls that night.
Firstly, not all girls are nasty and spiteful, which seemed to be the case whenever I met one. There was a way to approach, greet, talk to, and behave.
It was also true that I could have had anything I wanted, but I decided what was in my imagination could stay there. She was amused that all I wanted was to talk, but it was my money, and I could spend it how I liked.
And like any 17-year-old naive fool, I fell in love with her and had all these foolish notions. Months later, I went back, but she had moved on, to where no one was saying or knew.
Needless to say, I was heartbroken and had to get over that first loss, which, like any 17-year-old, was like the end of the world.
But it was the best hour I’d ever spent in my life and would remain so until I met the woman I have been married to for the last 48 years.
As Henry, he was in part based on a rebel, the son of rich parents who despised them and their wealth, and he used to regale anyone who would listen about how they had messed up his life
If only I’d come from such a background!
And yes, I was only a run away from climbing up the stairs to get on board a ship, acting as a purser.
I worked for a shipping company and they gave their junior staff members an opportunity to spend a year at sea working as a purser on a cargo ship that sailed between Melbourne, Sydney and Hobart in Australia.
One of the other junior staff members’ turn came, and I would visit him on board when he would tell me stories about life on board, the officers, the crew, and other events. These stories, which sounded incredible to someone so impressionable, were a delight to hear.
Alas, by that time, I had tired of office work and moved on to be a tradesman at the place where my father worked.
It proved to be the right move, as that is where I met my wife. Diana had been right; love would find me when I least expected it.
So, the first treat for the day is the high-speed magnetic train, something we only learned about after arriving in China and was not on any of the pre-tour documentation.
The train line connects Shanghai Pudong International Airport and Longyang Road Station (in the outskirts of central Pudong). It is the oldest commercial maglev still in operation, and the first commercial high-speed maglev with cruising speed of 431 km/h (268 mph). At full speed, the journey takes 7 minutes and 20 seconds to complete the distance of about 30 km.
Construction of the line began on March 1, 2001 and public services commenced on 1 January 2004. It was built by a joint venture of Siemens and ThyssenKrupp from Kassel, Germany.
But, like visiting anything from a hotel, first we have to drive to the station and because we are leaving at 8, its peak hour traffic, and it takes 1 hour 10 minutes to get there.
The train also has a practical use and that is to take passengers from Shanghai to Pudong international airport as well as for those train enthusiasts, which is what we are.
On the train, it has the same sleek look as the bullet trains, but it is completely different, and you are able to see from the front of the train to the back.
Reputed to travel at 431 kph we take a seat and it is not long before the doors shut, and a loud humming noise is soon replaced by what sounds like an engine, then we start moving. It sounds just like a normal train, and is a lot noisier than a normal bullet train.
Seating on the train was nothing special, as one might expect
It didn’t take long before it hits the advertised speed of 431 kph. This is not sustained for very long, because the distance is on 40 odd kilometers, and the whole trip takes about 7 minutes.
We go to the airport, and then we come back. Is it worth the price, yes. If you are a train enthusiast.
Williams’ Restaurant, East 65th Street, New York, Saturday, 8:00 p.m.
We met the Blaines at Williams’, a rather upmarket restaurant that the Blaines 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 had been 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 get on the red carpet, and when we walked into the restaurant, I swear there were at least five seconds of silence, and many more gasps.
I even 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 a permanent blade one beard, unkempt hair, and a 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 me, 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 that 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 Blaines were our mentors at the Trump Tower, because they didn’t just let ‘anyone’ in. I didn’t ask if the Blaines 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 realised 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 realised 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 decided 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 studying 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 realised 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; she might have been 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 who recently moved into the tower a block down from us. I thought I recognised 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 wanted 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 me. I might have looked pale or red-faced, or angry or disappointed, but it didn’t matter. If that didn’t seal the deal for her, the fact that I took over the dining engagement did. She knew well enough that 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, rather than tell 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, that 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: to play them at their own game, watching the deception once I knew there was one, 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 Blaines 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 and 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.
The Starving Artist Myth: Why You Should Chase Paychecks, Not Just Prestige
In the writing community, there’s a persistent, romanticised image of the “struggling artist.” We’re told that if we just sacrifice enough comfort—if we skip enough meals and keep our bank accounts sufficiently drained—we will somehow be more “authentic.”
But let’s be real for a second: You cannot write a masterpiece on an empty stomach.
If you are looking to build a sustainable writing career, you need to be strategic about where you invest your energy. When it comes to writing contests and submission calls, it’s time to stop chasing prestige and start prioritising your survival.
The Problem with “Prestige”
There is no denying the allure of a prestigious award. Seeing a fancy logo next to your name or receiving a pat on the back from a renowned institution feels incredible. It validates your talent and strokes your ego.
But here is the hard truth: Prestige does not pay the rent.
When you spend your limited writing time crafting pieces specifically to chase awards that offer nothing but a digital badge or a line on your resume, you are essentially working for free. Worse, you are trading the precious hours you could be spending on your long-form projects for a fleeting moment of hollow validation.
Why You Need to Prioritise the Prize
Writing is work. It is intellectual labour, and like any other form of labour, it deserves compensation.
When you seek out contests with cash prizes, you aren’t being “sell-out.” You are being a professional. That prize money serves a dual purpose:
It keeps you fed: You need electricity, internet, and groceries to keep the creative engine running.
It buys you time: If you can win a prize that covers a month’s worth of expenses, that is one month you don’t have to spend at a soul-sucking day job. It’s one month where you can focus entirely on that novel—the one that lives in your head and needs your undivided attention to finally make it onto the page.
The “Later” Philosophy
Don’t get me wrong—prestige has its place. But that place is later.
Once you have established your footing, once you have mastered your craft, and once you have a body of work that has been funded by the very industry you are trying to enter, then you can afford the luxury of chasing accolades.
But right now? Right now, you are building your foundation. You are cultivating the experiences, the discipline, and the financial stability required to produce your best work. You cannot reach the peak of the mountain if you are too malnourished to climb the first few hundred feet.
How to Strategise Your Submissions
Next time you find yourself browsing Submittable or a contest directory, try applying these three rules:
The Bottom Line: Does this contest offer a cash prize that would meaningfully impact my life or support my writing time? If the answer is no, skip it.
The Time-to-Value Ratio: If the entry fee is high and the prize is obscure prestige, save your money. Invest that entry fee into a book on craft or a subscription to a platform that actually helps your writing process.
The Novel Priority: Is this contest helping you build toward your larger goal (your novel), or is it a distraction? If it doesn’t align with your long-term creative vision, don’t let it siphon your energy.
Final Thoughts
Your voice is valuable, and your time is a finite resource. Treat your writing like the profession it is. Stop waiting for the world to notice you through a gold-leafed certificate and start focusing on the work that sustains your life.
Feed yourself first. The masterpiece will come, but it will come when you are strong enough to carry it to the finish line.
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 them.
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!
The problem is, there are familiar faces and a question of who is a friend and who is foe made all the more difficult because of the enemy, if it was the enemy, simply because it didn’t look or sound or act like the enemy.
Now, it appears, his problems stem from another operation he participated in.
I could truthfully say I was blinded by the light. Whoever my next visitor was, came in and turned on the lights just about blinding me after the ethereal darkness I’d been in for several hours.
Of course, it had to be Lallo.
“I trust you had an uneventful journey and got plenty of rest.” He seemed to be in what might be called a jovial mood.
Perhaps they were going to let him use his instruments of torture on me now we had arrived. I was sure that the Geneva Convention, if we were still a signatory to it, was left outside the door to this building.
“Well enough. Whose idea was it to put me in casts and make me think I had been severely injured?”
“I doubt that would be of interest to you now. Just be thankful it wasn’t purposely done to you. I had been an option, but Colonel Bamfield apparently has you in mind for a job he needs doing, so we opted for subterfuge. You can thank us later.”
Or not at all. I was right. Bamfield, or they, whoever they were, needed me alive. And in one piece. I was not sure I liked the sound of that.
“More questions?”
“No, not at the moment. I’m going to have a chat to the source, you remember me telling you we were bringing him over with us. He was not so lucky as you, as you’ll soon discover. I want you to sit in on the session, I want you to listen and assess what you think about what he tells us.”
“In what capacity?”
“Just listen. I’m told that you have conducted a few interrogations, and have a sense about the target, whether they’re lying or telling the truth. We won’t be using force initially, so let’s hope he opts to tell the truth.”
So did I. The last thing I wanted to see was a messy interrogation. Those I’d been on were relatively simple. A man at the end of a gun usually told the truth or felt a great deal of pain and suffering if he didn’t.
It had never been my favourite job, which is why I’d not done very many, and I had hoped I’d never see Lallo at his worst. Perhaps, then, that was the point of this exercise. They were not finished with me, so he’d make an example out of someone else, letting me know the extent to which he would go, thus making me more co-operative.
A bit pointless, really, because I didn’t know very much. Maybe the Colonel forgot to tell him that.
“There are clothes in the cupboard over there,” he nodded towards the corner of the room where there were two doors. One I figured was the bathroom. “Clean yourself up, get dressed, and let Monroe know when you’re ready. Oh, and take it easy for the first few minutes, the serum we gave you tends to make your legs turn to jelly when you first try to stand up. It’ll pass. Just be careful.”
I was literally waiting for her to tell me she hadn’t anything to wear for our little trip, but instead said she would need to take a few things. She added, in the same breath, that she would tell her bosses whatever they needed to hear.
I didn’t think that included that I’d take a shine to her. I don’t think she quite knew what that meant. At any rate, she had to go home, and I had to head to the car, and on the way, call Cecelia.
She wasn’t going to believe half of what I had to tell her.
I gave her the address of the parking garage and told her I would see her there in two hours. I seriously doubted I would see her again.
Back on the train, I called Cecelia. She answered straight away but with a noncommittal “Yes?” Perhaps she was guarding against the phone falling into the wrong hands. Hers and two others were the only numbers on speed dial.
“It’s me.” I didn’t qualify ‘me’ she would know.
“Where are you?”
“Just leaving Rome after seeing the countess’s solicitor.”
“Did you get a voice recording from Rodby?”
“Yes.”
“Are you suitably surprised?”
“That we only get half, or in this case, a quarter of the story. I didn’t see that coming, though I had an inkling that Martha wasn’t Martha, but then I wouldn’t recognise my mother some days.”
“Who’s that woman pretending to be the countess?”
“Anyone’s guess. Did you get them into the hotel?”
“And left them to it. I’ve been at the Sorrento mansion, waiting for the old lady. The two boys are here, Alessandro and Fabio.”
“Given what we know about the fake Countess, you might want to stay away until I get there. I’m not sure where Vittoria and Juliet fit into the puzzle yet, or whether the fake Countess is keeping them nearby for other reasons, but I’m sure the two of them can take care of themselves.”
As for the information the solicitor gave me, I would save that until I saw her.
“Just one other wrinkle, I picked up some surveillance, and now I have one of their team with me. She’ll be coming to Sorrento. I believe she’s working for a PI who’s working for the Burkehardt’s who want to know where the countess is. They would want to know before the sealing of the inheritance, so extra eyes and ears might be useful.”
“She could be trouble.”
“Which I’m sure you’ll deal with like I will. I’ll be there in three to four hours. Have we got another hotel? I don’t fancy staying with the others?”
“Yes. I text you the name. Take care.”
I waited in the café near the parking garage, and three minutes before the two hours were up I saw her getting out of a taxi, and leaning in to talk to someone who had accompanied her.
A husband, or a boss?
The taxi drove off and she looked around, then saw me sitting at the table on the street. Not the safest place to be, but needs must.
I waited until she sat down and called the waiter over to order her coffee.
“Your supervisor in the car?”
“He insisted on coming with me. I told him the truth, rather than what you said, and he wasn’t pleased. However, at that moment, he said, our interests are aligned, so I would be better off staying with you. At least then if you find the countess, so will we.
“Did you bring a gun?”
“What. Wait. Why would I? A gun?”
She didn’t answer the question, so it was likely the boss just gave her one. I wasn’t going to search her handbag right then, but maybe later. It also raised a small red flag in my head, what if she was more than just a ‘pretty face’?
I shrugged. “If you have, remember don’t point it at me. I tend to get a little annoyed at people who do stupid things like that, with very bad consequences. For them. I hope you like 80s rock. if you don’t then you only have to endure it for about three hours.”
She smiled wanly. “I’d rather not be going, but we don’t always get what we want.”
What I wanted to say is the world is going to hell in a handbasket, but the truth is, it’s probably just me.
If it’s possible and seeing it’s the only time we can go away, as we live in the southern hemisphere, it seems logical to go north.
OK, that’s probably not as rational as it sounded in my head a few seconds ago, because where we’re planning to go it’s about minus 16 degrees.
Where on earth could it be that cold, other than the North Pole? Lake Louise. Canada. Somewhere up in those snow-peaked mountains.
Why do we want to go there?
Because it’s there. Because we have been there before, and it literally took our breath away (notwithstanding the severe cold). And no doubt after we’ve been there in the dead of winter, we might have decided we won’t want to go back? Who knows.
But…
Oh, yes, there’s a but…
I need some good background for a story I’m writing, and if you’re going to do the winter thing, or the white Christmas thing, when your Christmases are usually 40 degrees Celsius in the shade, then Canada is the place to do it.
Aside from the fact, we might run into Detective Murdoch (from Murdoch Mysteries) in Toronto, and, definitely, the Maple Leafs, yes, I can see myself saying ‘go leafs go’, whilst sipping on a large glass of Molsen beer.
Then, perhaps we’ll go to New York for a week. Perhaps everything will be back to normal, but maybe not. Hopefully, there will be snow in Central Park, or, if not, the squirrels, and if not them, perhaps a movie star or two walking their dog.
Thrills, Spills, and just a dash of Romance 