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.
It was the first time in almost a week that I made the short walk to the cafe alone. It was early, and the chill of the morning was still in the air. In summer, it was the best time of the day. When Susan came with me, it was usually much later, when the day was much warmer and less tolerable.
On the morning of the third day of her visit, Susan said she was missing the hustle and bustle of London, and by the end of the fourth she said, in not so many words, she was over being away from ‘civilisation’. This was a side of her I had not seen before, and it surprised me.
She hadn’t complained, but it was making her irritable. The Susan that morning was vastly different to the Susan on the first day. So much, I thought, for her wanting to ‘reconnect’, the word she had used as the reason for coming to Greve unannounced.
It was also the first morning I had time to reflect on her visit and what my feelings were towards her. It was the reason I’d come to Greve: to soak up the peace and quiet and think about what I was going to do with the rest of my life.
I sat in my usual corner. Maria, one of two waitresses, came out, stopped, and there was no mistaking the relief in her manner. There was an air of tension between Susan and Maria I didn’t understand, and it seemed to emanate from Susan rather than the other way around. I could understand her attitude if it was towards Alisha, but not Maria. All she did was serve coffee and cake.
When Maria recovered from the momentary surprise, she said, smiling, “You are by yourself?” She gave a quick glance in the direction of my villa, just to be sure.
“I am this morning. I’m afraid the heat, for one who is not used to it, can be quite debilitating. I’m also afraid it has had a bad effect on her manners, for which I apologise. I cannot explain why she has been so rude to you.”
“You do not have to apologise for her, David, but it is of no consequence to me. I have had a lot worse. I think she is simply jealous.”
It had crossed my mind, but there was no reason for her to be. “Why?”
“She is a woman, I am a woman, she thinks because you and I are friends, there is something between us.”
It made sense, even if it was not true. “Perhaps if I explained…”
Maria shook her head. “If there is a hole in the boat, you should not keep bailing but try to plug the hole. My grandfather had many expressions, David. If I may give you one piece of advice, as much as it is none of my business, you need to make your feelings known, and if they are not as they once were, and I think they are not, you need to tell her. Before she goes home.”
Interesting advice. Not only a purveyor of excellent coffee, but Maria was also a psychiatrist who had astutely worked out my dilemma. What was that expression, ‘not just a pretty face’?
“Is she leaving soon?” I asked, thinking Maria knew more about Susan’s movements than I did.
“You would disappoint me if you had not suspected as much. Susan was having coffee and talking to someone in her office on a cell phone. It was an intense conversation. I should not eavesdrop, but she said being here was like being stuck in hell. It is a pity she does not share your love for our little piece of paradise, is it not?”
“It is indeed. And you’re right. She said she didn’t have a phone, but I know she has one. She just doesn’t value the idea of getting away from the office. Perhaps her role doesn’t afford her that luxury.”
And perhaps Alisha was right about Maria, that I should be more careful. She had liked Maria the moment she saw her. We had sat at this very table, the first day I arrived. I would have travelled alone, but Prendergast, my old boss, liked to know where ex-employees of the Department were, and what they were doing.
She sighed. “I am glad I am just a waitress. Your usual coffee and cake?”
“Yes, please.”
Several months had passed since we had rescued Susan from her despotic father; she had recovered faster than we had thought, and settled into her role as the new Lady Featherington, though she preferred not to use that title, but go by the name of Lady Susan Cheney.
I didn’t get to be a Lord, or have any title, not that I was expecting one. What I had expected was that Susan, once she found her footing as head of what seemed to be a commercial empire, would not have time for details like husbands, particularly when our agreement made before the wedding gave either of us the right to end it.
There was a moment when I visited her recovering in the hospital, where I was going to give her the out, but I didn’t, and she had not invoked it. We were still married, just not living together.
This visit was one where she wanted to ‘reconnect’ as she called it, and invite me to come home with her. She saw no reason why we could not resume our relationship, conveniently forgetting she indirectly had me arrested for her murder, charges both her mother and Lucy vigorously pursued, and had the clone not returned to save me, I might still be in jail.
It was not something I would forgive or forget any time soon.
There were other reasons why I was reluctant to stay with her, like forgetting small details, an irregularity in her character I found odd. She looked the same, she sounded the same, she basically acted the same, but my mind was telling me something was not right. It was not the Susan I first met, even allowing for the ordeal she had been subjected to.
But, despite those misgivings, there was no question in my mind that I still loved her, and her clandestine arrival had brought back all those feelings. But as the days passed, I began to get the impression my feelings were one-sided and she was just going through the motions.
Which brought me to the last argument, earlier, where I said if I went with her, it would be business meetings, social obligations, and quite simply her ‘celebrity’ status that would keep us apart. I reminded her that I had said from the outset I didn’t like the idea of being in the spotlight, and when I reiterated it, she simply brushed it off as just part of the job, adding rather strangely that I always looked good in a suit. The flippancy of that comment was the last straw, and I left before I said something I would regret.
I knew I was not a priority. Maybe somewhere inside me, I had wanted to be a priority, and I was disappointed when I was not.
And finally, there was Alisha. Susan, at the height of the argument, had intimated she believed I had an affair with her, but that elephant was always in the room whenever Alisha was around. It was no surprise when I learned Susan had asked Prendergast to reassign her to other duties.
At least I knew what my feelings for Alisha were, and there were times when I had to remember she was persona non grata. Perhaps that was why Susan had her banished, but, again, a small detail; jealousy was not one of Susan’s traits when I first knew her.
Perhaps it was time to set Susan free.
When I swung around to look in the direction of the lane where my villa was, I saw Susan. She was formally dressed, not in her ‘tourist’ clothes, which she had bought from one of the local clothing stores. We had fun that day, shopping for clothes, a chore I’d always hated. It had been followed by a leisurely lunch, lots of wine and soul searching.
It was the reason why I sat in this corner; old habits die hard. I could see trouble coming from all directions, not that Susan was trouble or at least I hoped not, but it allowed me the time to watch her walking towards the cafe in what appeared to be short, angry steps; perhaps the culmination of the heat wave and our last argument.
She glared at me as she sat, dropping her bag beside her on the ground, where I could see the cell phone sitting on top. She followed my glance down, and then she looked unrepentant back at me.
Maria came back at the exact moment she was going to speak. I noticed Maria hesitate for a second when she saw Susan, then put her smile in place to deliver my coffee.
Neither spoke nor looked at each other. I said, “Susan will have what I’m having, thanks.”
Maria nodded and left.
“Now,” I said, leaning back in my seat, “I’m sure there’s a perfectly good explanation as to why you didn’t tell me about the phone, but that first time you disappeared, I’d guessed you needed to keep in touch with your business interests. I thought it somewhat unwisethat you should come out when the board of one of your companies was trying to remove you, because of what was it, an unexplained absence? All you had to do was tell me there were problems and you needed to remain at home to resolve them.”
My comment elicited a sideways look, with a touch of surprise.
“It was unfortunate timing on their behalf, and I didn’t want you to think everything else was more important than us. There were issues before I came, and I thought the people at home would be able to manage without me for at least a week, but I was wrong.”
“Why come at all. A phone call would have sufficed.”
“I had to see you, talk to you. At least we have had a chance to do that. I’m sorry about yesterday. I once told you I would not become my mother, but I’m afraid I sounded just like her. I misjudged just how much this role would affect me, and truly, I’m sorry.”
An apology was the last thing I expected.
“You have a lot of work to do catching up after being away, and of course, in replacing your mother and gaining the requisite respect as the new Lady Featherington. I think it would be for the best if I were not another distraction. We have plenty of time to reacquaint ourselves when you get past all these teething issues.”
“You’re not coming with me?” She sounded disappointed.
“I think it would be for the best if I didn’t.”
“Why?”
“It should come as no surprise to you that I’ve been keeping an eye on your progress. You are so much better doing your job without me. I told your mother once that when the time came I would not like the responsibilities of being your husband. Now that I have seen what it could possibly entail, I like it even less. You might also want to reconsider our arrangement, after all, we only had a marriage of convenience, and now that those obligations have been fulfilled, we both have the option of terminating it. I won’t make things difficult for you if that’s what you want.”
It was yet another anomaly, I thought; she should look distressed, and I would raise the matter of that arrangement. Perhaps she had forgotten the finer points. I, on the other hand, had always known we would not last forever. The perplexed expression, to me, was a sign she might have forgotten.
Then, her expression changed. “Is that what you want?”
“I wasn’t madly in love with you when we made that arrangement, so it was easy to agree to your terms, but inexplicably, since then, my feelings for you changed, and I would be sad if we parted ways. But the truth is, I can’t see how this is going to work.”
“In saying that, do you think I don’t care for you?”
That was exactly what I was thinking, but I wasn’t going to voice that opinion out loud. “You spent a lot of time finding new ways to make my life miserable, Susan. You and that wretched friend of yours, Lucy. While your attitude improved after we were married, that was because you were going to use me when you went to see your father, and then almost let me go to prison for your murder.”
“I had nothing to do with that, other than to leave, and I didn’t agree with Lucy that you should be made responsible for my disappearance. I cannot be held responsible for the actions of my mother. She hated you; Lucy didn’t understand you, and Millie told me I was stupid for not loving you in return, and she was right. Why do you think I gave you such a hard time? You made it impossible not to fall in love with you, and it nearly changed my mind about everything I’d been planning so meticulously. But perhaps there was a more subliminal reason why I did because after I left, I wanted to believe, if anything went wrong, you would come and find me.”
“How could you possibly know that I’d even consider doing something like that, given what you knew about me?”
“Prendergast made a passing comment when my mother asked him about you; he told us you were very good at finding people and even better at fixing problems.”
“And yet here we are, one argument away from ending it.”
I could see Maria hovering, waiting for the right moment to deliver her coffee, then go back and find Gianna, the café owner, instead. Gianna was more abrupt and, for that reason, was rarely seen serving the customers. Today, she was particularly cantankerous, banging the cake dish on the table and frowning at Susan before returning to her kitchen. Gianna didn’t like Susan either.
Behind me, I heard a car stop, and when she looked up, I knew it was for her. She had arrived with nothing, and she was leaving with nothing.
She stood. “Last chance.”
“Forever?”
She hesitated and then shook away the look of annoyance on her face. “Of course not. I wanted you to come back with me so we could continue working on our relationship. I agree there are problems, but it’s nothing we can’t resolve if we try.”
I had been trying. “It’s too soon for both of us, Susan. I need to be able to trust you, and given the circumstances, and all that water under the bridge, I’m not sure if I can yet.”
She frowned at me. “As you wish.” She took an envelope out of her bag and put it on the table. “When you are ready, it’s an open ticket home. Please make it sooner rather than later. Despite what you think of me, I have missed you, and I have no intention of ending it between us.”
That said, she glared at me for a minute, shook her head, then walked to the car. I watched her get in and the car drive slowly away.
Imagine a story about an affair that disrupts the life of a married couple.
…
I put the phone down and leaned back in the chair.
It was not what I expected, and then it was. I just didn’t think I’d get to hear about it.
And it was nothing I did that precipitated the call. That came from someone else, a person I was not pleased with. Saying they would do something after I said I didn’t care showed poor judgment.
I could understand why they did, and in other circumstances, I would probably not feel as bad, but their actions had forced my hand.
“Sir?”
James, the butler who had served my father, then me, the very soul of discretion, looked over from the sideboard.
The question, in not so many words, was whether I wanted a drink, not whether I needed one. The truth was, I needed one.
A nod in his direction, he put ice in a crystal glass and poured a small quantity of Scotch into it. He placed it on a tray and brought it over.
“Thank you, James. That will be all.”
“Yes, sir. Good night, sir.”
Silence reigned after the door closed for a few minutes before my cell phone, sitting on the armrest of the chair, buzzed.
I looked at the screen. “Cecily.”
My sister was calling. Why? Our business was concluded the week before, and she had promised not to call me unless it was absolutely necessary. She wanted to run the company her way, and I was happy for her to do so.
I shrugged and answered it.
“Yes, Cecily?”
“I just had a strange call from Jack Burroughs.”
Jack Burroughs was the Chief Financial Officer. He moved in strange, or what I called strange, circles. He was also just a little strange himself, but work-related, he was a genius.
“He is strange, Cecily.”
“He told me he saw Margaret in a …” and then didn’t, or couldn’t bring herself to use the words.
I didn’t think she knew that Burroughs was gay simply because he didn’t identify as one.
“He saw her at Moreno’s.” Moreno’s was an obscure bar that celebrities sometimes went to so they would not make the media headlines. When I didn’t answer immediately, she took a deep breath, then said, “You know?”
“I got a call from someone else.”
“What is she doing there?”
“What do you think she is doing there?”
Silence as she grappled with the ramifications.
“So, you knew that she was…?”
“I suspected. She told me before we married that she had been in a relationship with a girl, and it wasn’t who she thought she was. Seems it’s not the case, and they’re back together.”
“What are you going to do?”
“It’s done. I’m no longer part of the company or anything. There’s the prenuptial you insisted on, so no one is walking away from this with anything. It hasn’t been much of a relationship for nearly six months now, so I’m going to break the news that there’s no more money and we’re moving to the log cabin, courtesy of your generosity.”
“Oh. Make me the bad guy.”
“You’ll make such a good one. Don’t worry yourself. I’m disappointed, but it’s not unexpected. And I’ll get over it. I am going to the log cabin, by the way, in the next few days.”
“OK. Call me if you need anything.”
She took it better than I thought she would.
…
I waited.
I thought about watching a movie or reading a book, but in the end, I decided to do some reading of a different sort. I had been sent a prospectus and background paper on a new concept car, one that wasn’t going to destroy the world.
By the time I got through to the end, three hundred pages of technical details that I would have to pass to the research department, I heard the front door open and close.
Frances had returned.
I looked at the clock, and it was 3:13 in the morning.
I heard her take that first step up the staircase to the room, then stopped. Perhaps she had seen the light under the door in the sitting room.
A moment later, she appeared in the doorway. She still had that ability to make my heart miss a beat every time I saw her.
I wondered then I’d she ever really loved me.
“You’re up late.”
“Reading, lost track of time.”
“Oh.” She came in and sat opposite me, slightly askew on the chair. She never really sat properly in the chair or any chair.
“Did you have a good night?”
She had said she was going out with some of her old friends from school days, and technically, she was not lying.
“I did.” She gave me a curious look. “Eloise was there.”
Eloise was the previous girlfriend. I had our legal department check up on her, and she was one of those people whose private life was private. She wasn’t married, had male friends, but was financially independent.
I never understood why she had picked Margaret as her lover, but I freely admit I didn’t know much about love.
“You did say they were your old friends. Was she happy to see you?”
Again, another curious look, though this time, is more wary.
She sighed. “How long have you known?”
“Long enough. And before you say anything, I’m not surprised. I haven’t really been there for you of late. I’m sorry.”
“Who told you?”
“Would you believe me?”
“Eloise.”
“She said you were unhappy when you ran into each other. It just grew from there. She said she had never stopped loving you. I can see why.”
“She asked me to come back.”
“And?”
“I am married to you. You are my husband, and people have expectations. You might have expectations.”
I shrugged. “Maybe once upon a time, but now? I’m no longer working for the company or any part of it. Everything I had, the company owned. If you so desire, you can leave without regret. There’s nothing more for you to do.”
“You’ll still be that many about town.”
“No. You’ll find that once people discover you have nothing, no job, no wealth, no status, they simply stop calling and stop inviting. Cecily had offered me the use of a log cabin my father used to go to when he needed a few days away. Montana or Wyoming or some such place.”
“Are you alright? I mean, the company and everything. It’s your life.”
“Not any more. It’s Cecily’s now. Everything.”
“When?”
“About two months ago. When I realised that whatever we had was over. Like I said, I don’t blame you. I did to you what my father did to my mother. Things are a little different in my case. You found someone else to fill that void. My mother simply killed herself.”
It had been preventable, and I had blamed my father for it. It culminated in the argument that killed him. Yelling at me, he had a heart attack and dropped dead in front of me. I hadn’t recovered from that, but bounced into this relationship, then married, and some could say it was doomed from the start.
“I’m sorry. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I don’t know. I was trying to get past it, but instead of sharing, I just threw myself into the job. There was no need to burden yourself with my problems.”
She shook her head. “That was silly. I made the commitment and would have helped in any way I could. It might have brought us closer together.”
“Or pushed you away. You can not change who you are, Frances. It will always be there, and if you have to fight it, it will eventually be a fight you will lose. I don’t want that for you.”
“But what about you?”
“I’m fine. I’ll get to read the classic, sit by a light fire, catch and eat food that is fresh, not supermarket fresh. The fresh mountain air, well, that might kill me or cure me.”
She sat, the conversation seemingly over, adjusting her dress and then readjusting it as if something was not quite right. I knew she preferred tank tops, short skirts, and jeans to the expensive clothes she believed she had to wear.
“I can stay, if you like. Go up to the cabin, wherever it is. Are there bears and snakes?”
“Probably. You don’t have to, but you can’t stay here. You can take what’s yours, though, but it will have to be before the end of the week.”
She gave me a steely look. “Then it’s over, we’re over?”
“Yes. You should have told me, Frances. I deserved at least that much.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
There was another knock on the door. For the hour of the morning, it was quite busy.
James came out to open it, then ushered the visitor in. Eloise.
I saw Frances glance at her and mouth the words, “Why are you here?”
“I’ve come to take Frances home.” She said it in a tone that suggested she wouldn’t take no for an answer.
I looked at her. “I have no objection if that’s what you think. Frances has always been free to decide what she wants to do. I only asked if she was intending to get into trouble, that she be discreet.”
“It has always been so
“Until you went to Moreno’s, which was a calculated move on your part. Whatever your reasons, it was wasted effort. I have nothing, I own nothing, nor does Frances.”
“It was not about the money,” Frances said, looking at Eloise, and her expression was priceless. “Was it?”
Eloise looked at me. “You’re in the top one hundred richest men in the country. You can’t tell me that just disappeared overnight.”
“No, you’re right, it didn’t. That happened last week when I signed the final documents to give it all to my sister Cecily. I had reached the end of my association, and the company rules state that I could only be in charge for five years, at the end of which I have to walk away. I didn’t have to forgo my personal wealth during the process, but having it all wasn’t the same as having everything. Frances, according to her agreement, will be equally as penniless the moment she walks out of this apartment. She now owns as much as I do. Nothing. I truly hope you were not asking her to come back because she was about to become a billionaire.”
Judging by the expression on Eloise’s face, I think that was exactly what she believed.
Eloise swivelled on Frances. “Is this true?”
“Why does it matter?”
“You are entitled to half of everything he had, prenuptial or not. Even your lawyers would…”
And there she stopped, perhaps realising what she had said and done, because Frances was greatly surprised, and her expression, to me, didn’t augur well for their relationship lasting.
Her tone was soft, and there was a slight tremor in her voice. Perhaps now the full realisation of Eloise’s intent was clear, “Even if I didn’t divorce him, there was never any money. There never was because I never needed it. I had nice things, but they were never mine, and I have no claim on them, nor would I want to. I told you a while back that I’ve had enough of the high life. Now I think I would prefer to embrace the country air in Wyoming.”
Perhaps Eloise, too, was beginning to see what the reality of the situation was. I got the impression Frances had tried to tell her, and she wouldn’t listen.
“I thought…” Eloise began.
“She was about to become mega-rich?” I finished the sentence for her. “No.”
I could see the expression on Frances’ face change from surprise, to shock, to something bordering on anger, if not rage. And come to the same conclusion about the same time I did.
“You didn’t just run into me, did you?” Frances said, so quietly I almost missed it.
“You’re a silly girl who will never have anything. Not unless you stand up for yourself. I’ll show myself out.”
Would you give up everything to be with the one you love?
…
Is love the metaphorical equivalent to ‘walking the plank’; a dive into uncharted waters?
For Henry, the only romance he was interested in was a life at sea, and when away from it, he strived to find sanctuary from his family and perhaps life itself. It takes him to a small village by the sea, a place he never expected to find another just like him, Michelle, whom he soon discovers is as mysterious as she is beautiful.
Henry had long since given up the notion of finding romance, and Michelle couldn’t get involved for reasons she could never explain, but in the end, both acknowledge that something happened the moment they first met.
Plans were made, plans were revised, and hopes were shattered.
A chance encounter causes Michelle’s past to catch up with her, and whatever hope she had of having a normal life with Henry, or anyone else, is gone. To keep him alive she has to destroy her blossoming relationship, an act that breaks her heart and shatters his.
But can love conquer all?
It takes a few words of encouragement from an unlikely source to send Henry and his friend Radly on an odyssey into the darkest corners of the red-light district in a race against time to find and rescue the woman he finally realizes is the love of his life.
The cover, at the moment, looks like this:
Is love the metaphorical equivalent to ‘walking the plank’; a dive into uncharted waters?
For Henry, the only romance he was interested in was a life at sea, and when away from it, he strived to find sanctuary from his family and perhaps life itself. It takes him to a small village by the sea, s place he never expected to find another just like him, Michelle, whom he soon discovers is as mysterious as she is beautiful.
Henry had long since given up the notion of finding romance, and Michelle couldn’t get involved for reasons she could never explain, but in the end, both acknowledge that something happened the moment they first met.
Plans were made, plans were revised, and hopes were shattered.
A chance encounter causes Michelle’s past to catch up with her, and whatever hope she had of having a normal life with Henry, or anyone else, is gone. To keep him alive she has to destroy her blossoming relationship, an act that breaks her heart and shatters his.
But can love conquer all?
It takes a few words of encouragement from an unlikely source to send Henry and his friend Radly on an odyssey into the darkest corners of the red-light district in a race against time to find and rescue the woman he finally realizes is the love of his life.
Yes, I actually heard that answer given in a television interview, and thought, at the time, it was a quaint expression.
But in reality, this was a person for whom English was a second language, and that was, quite literally, their translation from their language to English.
Suffice to say, that person was not happy when lost the event she was participating in.
But that particular memory was triggered by another event.
Someone asked me how happy I was.
Happy is another of those words like good, thrown around like a rag doll, used without consequence, or regard for its true meaning.
“After everything that’s happened, you should be the happiest man alive!”
I’m happy.
I should be, to them.
A real friend might also say, “Are you sure, you don’t look happy.”
I hesitate but say, “Sure. I woke up with a headache,” or some other lame reason.
But, in reality, I’m not ‘happy’. Convention says that we should be happy if everything is going well. In my case, it is, to a certain extent, but it is what’s happening within that’s the problem. We say it because people expect it.
I find there is no use complaining because no one will listen, and definitely, no one likes serial complainers.
True.
But somewhere in all those complaints will be the truth, the one item that is bugging us.
It is a case of whether we are prepared to listen. Really listen.
Investigation of crimes doesn’t always go according to plan, nor does the perpetrator get either found or punished.
That was particularly true in my case. The murderer was incredibly careful in not leaving any evidence behind, to the extent that the police could not rule out whether it was a male or a female.
At one stage the police thought I had murdered my own wife though how I could be on a train at the time of the murder was beyond me. I had witnesses and a cast-iron alibi.
The officer in charge was Detective First Grade Gabrielle Walters. She came to me on the day after the murder seeking answers to the usual questions like, when was the last time you saw your wife, did you argue, the neighbors reckon there were heated discussions the day before.
Routine was the word she used.
Her fellow detective was a surly piece of work whose intention was to get answers or, more likely, a confession by any or all means possible. I could sense the raging violence within him. Fortunately, common sense prevailed.
Over the course of the next few weeks, once I’d been cleared of committing the crime, Gabrielle made a point of keeping me informed of the progress.
After three months the updates were more sporadic, and when, for lack of progress, it became a cold case, communication ceased.
But it was not the last I saw of Gabrielle.
The shock of finding Vanessa was more devastating than the fact she was now gone, and those images lived on in the same nightmare that came to visit me every night when I closed my eyes.
For months I was barely functioning, to the extent I had all but lost my job, and quite a few friends, particularly those who were more attached to Vanessa rather than me.
They didn’t understand how it could affect me so much, and since it had not happened to them, my tart replies of ‘you wouldn’t understand’ were met with equally short retorts. Some questioned my sanity, even, for a time, so did I.
No one, it seemed, could understand what it was like, no one except Gabrielle.
She was by her own admission, damaged goods, having been the victim of a similar incident, a boyfriend who turned out to be an awfully bad boy. Her story varied only in she had been made to witness his execution. Her nightmare, in reliving that moment in time, was how she was still alive and, to this day, had no idea why she’d been spared.
It was a story she told me one night, some months after the investigation had been scaled down. I was still looking for the bottom of a bottle and an emotional mess. Perhaps it struck a resonance with her; she’d been there and managed to come out the other side.
What happened become our secret, a once-only night together that meant a great deal to me, and by mutual agreement, it was not spoken of again. It was as if she knew exactly what was required to set me on the path to recovery.
And it had.
Since then, we saw each about once a month in a cafe. I had been surprised to hear from her again shortly after that eventful night when she called to set it up, ostensibly for her to provide me with any updates on the case, but perhaps we had, after that unspoken night, formed a closer bond than either of us wanted to admit.
We generally talked for hours over wine, then dinner and coffee. It took a while for me to realize that all she had was her work, personal relationships were nigh on impossible in a job that left little or no spare time for anything else.
She’d always said that if I had any questions or problems about the case, or if there was anything that might come to me that might be relevant, even after all this time, all I had to do was call her.
I wondered if this text message was in that category. I was certain it would interest the police and I had no doubt they could trace the message’s origin, but there was that tiny degree of doubt, about whether or not I could trust her to tell me what the message meant.
I reached for the phone then put it back down again. I’d think about it and decide tomorrow.
It was meant to be time to reacquaint as brothers.
Louis and I had not seen each other for decades, and when he returned, about a week before, I got the impression there was more than just ‘missing his brother’ going on.
But that was Louis. He was never one to say what or how he felt about anything, preferring to be the strong silent type, and it had not fared well for him transitioning from teenager to adult.
As for me, when our parents split up, Louis went with our father, and I stayed with our mother, and, given the amount of acrimony there was attached to the split, it was no surprise to anyone that Louis and I had effectively become estranged.
In fact, when I had tried to find them, about two years after the split and our mother had died suddenly, all I found were loose ends. They had effectively vanished.
With that part of my life effectively over, I had married, had children and watched 30 years disappear before Louis suddenly popped up. He simply knocked on the front door one afternoon, Helen answered it, and within minutes they were the best of friends. I’d had that rapport, once, many years before, but life and circumstances had all but ruined that.
Or perhaps that was just me, worn down by that same life and circumstances we were all supposed to take on the chin.
His arrival was a welcome distraction, and when, after a week, he suggested that he and I go on a hike, the sort our father used to take us on when we were a family, I agreed. Helen was happy to be rid of me, and I guess a week without our arguing would suit everyone.
It was probably fortuitous timing. Helen and I had finally got to the point where divorce lawyers were about to be called in. The children had all moved on and had children and problems of their own, and we, as parents just didn’t gel anymore.
Besides, I said, just before I joined Louis in the truck, ready to embark for the wilderness, it would be time to clear my head.
And by day two, my head was clear, and Louis, taking the lead, led us along the ridgeline, a trek he said, that would take us about seven hours. We’d stopped the previous night in a base camp and then headed out the next morning. We were the only two, it being early in the season with snow still on the ground.
Above was the clear cloudless blue sky and in front of us, trees and mountains. There was snow on the ground but it was not solid and showed no signs of human footsteps, only animals. The air was fresh, and it was good to be away from the city and its pressures.
Approaching noon, I’d asked him if we were about halfway. I knew he was holding back, being the fitter of us.
“More or less.”
“More or less what, more closer or less close than we should be.”
I watched him do a 360-degree turn, scoping out our position. It was a maneuver I was familiar with from my time with the National Guard. I’d used my backcountry experience that I’d learned from my father, as a skill I thought they might be able to, and eventually did, use. I got the feeling Louis was looking for something.
“You get the impression we’re not alone?” I asked. I had that nagging feeling something was not right, not from about two miles back in the forest. It was like my sixth sense being switched on.
“Doesn’t seem so, though there have been a few animals lurking behind us, probably surprised anyone’s about this time of the year. It’s been a while, so I’m just getting a feel for the trail. This is, for now, our mountain.”
There was a time, from a time when we were kids, that I could tell when he was lying. He was better at covering it, but it was still there.
Where we’d stopped was a small clearing, a staging point that would be used by other trekkers, still overgrown because of lack of trekkers. Ahead there were the signs of a trail, and after six months, it would become clear again. In places, as we had made our way from the base camp, sections of the distinctive trail had all but disappeared, but Louis seemed to know where he was going, and it was not long before we had picked up the trail again. This spot was a lookout, giving a spectacular view of the valley below, and a fast running river through it.
I walked to the edge and looked up and down the valley, and at the trail that ran along the cliff for a short distance. I looked down, not the wisest of things to do, but it was long enough to catch sight of several charred pieces of wood. On top of the snow. The thing is, someone had been along this trail before us, and recently, something I thought wise to keep to myself.
Back at the log, I sat for a moment and drank some water, while Louis stood patiently, but impatiently, for me to join him.
“You look like you’ve got somewhere to be.” Probably not the wisest thing to say but it was out before I could stop it.
A flicker of annoyance crossed his face, then it was gone. “If we stop too long, joints will freeze up, especially when it gets colder.”
“Sorry.” I put the container back in the pack and joined him. “Let’s go. The cold and I don’t get along very well, and it’s been a long time since the last time I ventured into the great unknown.”
“Helen said you gave up trekking when you married her.”
“She wasn’t a trekker, Robbie. We all have to give up something, sooner or later.”
Another hour, feeling rather weary, we’d come to another small clearing and a place where I could sit down.
“You always were the weak link, Robbie. Admittedly you were younger, but you never seemed to grasp the concept of exercise and fitness.”
I looked up at him and could see my father, the exact stance, the exact words, the exact same sneer in his voice. It all came rushing back as if it was yesterday, the reasons why I chose to go with our mother, that another day with his bullying would be one too many. And he was a bully. And, in an instant, I could see the apple hadn’t fallen far from the tree.
“Out of shape after languishing in an office, perhaps,” I said, “but I was never the disappointment our father always considered me.”
“You didn’t join the army, follow in his footsteps, as he wanted us to do. I did. Proudly served, too.”
I could see it. Like father, like son. No surprise Robbie had followed in his father’s footsteps. And it was a clue as to what Robbie had been doing since I saw him last.
“So, tell me about it.”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“No, I probably wouldn’t. Let’s push on.”
I’d also thought, along the way, he might ask questions, delve further into the problems that Helen and I were having, but I knew she had told him all he needed to know. I’d been held up at the office, and had rung to ask her to take him to dinner, get to know him, she might get to learn something of my life before I met her, details of which I hadn’t told her other than that my mother was dead, my father had left and taken Robbie with him. My past, I’d told her from the outset, was not something I would talk about.
I didn’t ask what they talked about, but I could see a change in both of them. Perhaps she had succumbed to Robbie’s charm, back in school all the girls did, but they all soon learned he was not a nice person, not once you got to know him. I didn’t warn her, and perhaps that was regrettable on my part, but it reflected the state in which our relationship had reached.
I’d also tried, once or twice, to find out if our father was still alive, but he deflected it, changing the subject. That meant he was still alive, somewhere, perhaps annoyed at Robbie for coming to see me. If I was a betting man, I’d bet our father would have denied permission for
Robbie to do so, even if he was a grown man and capable of making his own decisions.
Odd, but not surprising. Even now I could remember my father had secrets, and those secrets had fed into the breakup of our parents.
“So, you’ve been dodging it for days now, but you still haven’t told me if dad is alive or dead. He’d be about seventy-odd now.”
He stopped and turned to face me. “Would it matter if he was alive? I doubt you’d want to see him after what mother must have said about him.”
Interesting that he would think so. “She never had a bad word for him, and wouldn’t hear of one spoken, by me or anyone. And I have wondered what became of him, and you. At least now I know you spent time in the Army. If I was to guess what happened, that would be high on my list.”
“No surprise then you became an office wanker.”
Blunt, but, to him, it was a fact. I’d used that expression when telling Helen one time after a very bad day.
“We can’t all be heroes, Robbie.”
I put my hand up. Alarm bells were going off in my head. “You can come out now,” I yelled.
Robbie looked puzzled.
“I know you’re there. You’ve been behind us for about a half-mile now.”
A few seconds passed before the cracking of a twig, and then a person in a camouflage kit came towards us.
He’d aged, hair and beard grey in places but almost white now, but the face was familiar.
“What brings you to this part of the woods, Dad. Or is it just an unlucky coincidence?”
As some may be aware, but many not, Chester, my faithful writing assistant, mice catcher, and general pain in the neck, passed away some years ago.
Recently I was running a series based on his adventures, under the title of Past Conversations with my cat.
For those who have not had the chance to read about all of his exploits I will run the series again from Episode 1
These are the memories of our time together…
This is Chester. He’s finally got a starring role in one of my stories.
The thing is, I tried to keep it quiet so he wouldn’t get delusions, but it failed.
I made the mistake of leaving the page with the ‘cat’ part on the screen. The screen saver should have kicked in, but I think a well-placed paw brought it back to life.
So, the next morning, I come down and see him sitting on the desk, waiting.
It can either be good news or bad news.
“I see you’ve finally written a cat into the plot.”
“It was only a matter of time. I think you made your case a week ago by sitting on the keyboard until I agreed. Now, you’re in.”
“Yes. I see. Who’s idea was it to call the cat Herman? I mean to say, really, Herman?”
“I thought it was a great name for a cat.”
“What type of cat is it?”
“I don’t know. A cat’s a cat isn’t it?”
“Why not a Tonkinese, like me?”
“Alright, I’ll change it.”
“You made him jumpy, skittish even. I’m not like that.”
“It’s not you in the story.”
“So you’ve found another cat, who is it. It won’t last long when I get to them.”
Maybe it’s easier to write him out of the story. I don’t think I can take this criticism.
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 prioritizing.
But, here we are, a few minutes opened up and it didn’t take long to get back into the groove.
Chasing leads, maybe
…
I’d expected more questions from her, but the ride in the train to Wimbledon, and then to the car, she had very little to say. There was no doubt she was intrigued by the offer, but there was some trepidation too.
But it didn’t auger well for her longevity if she trusted people this easily. I had expected a lot more questions if only to find out what the job was.
Then, by the time we reached my car, it seemed she had time enough to think about everything.
“How do I know you’re not going to kill me too?”
She was standing on the other side of the car, yet to open the door. I was about to get in.
I looked at her across the roof.
“I could have done that ages Ago if that was my intention.”
“Not in a public space unless absolutely necessary.”
She was quoting the manual.
“So, I’m about to take you to a quiet spot in the country and shoot you?”
“Unlikely. You don’t have a gun with you.”
“A knife then?”
“I’m sure you don’t have one of those either. Besides, there’s a few other ways that don’t require weapons.”
I was astonished this was the conversation.
“I asked for your help, and that wasn’t to practice my killing skills. But, where we’re going that might happen to either of us.”
“Where are we going?”
“To a residence in Peaslake. Do you know of it? It’s about an hour away, southwest, I think. I’m not expecting to find anyone, but I am looking for a USB drive.”
“This O’Connell character’s?”
“Yes.”
A few seconds passed as she took that in, then, “If you are not expecting anyone to be there, why do you need me?”
“Rule whatever number it was, expect the unexpected. And get back up if it’s available. And there are other people looking for these documents, and the USB. Not friendly people I might add. I have no idea if they have the same information I have, so I’m expecting the unexpected. We have worked together and you know me.”
We had performed several assignments together for training purposes, as each of us had with the other four. She hadn’t been the best, but she hadn’t been the worst.
I saw her shrug. Acceptance?
She opened the door and got in.
It took me 15 minutes to get to the A3 and head towards Guildford.
A few minutes later she asked, “What the hell did we sign up for?”
“What do you mean? I thought it was pretty straight forward. Something other than a dull as ditchwater 9 to 5 job behind a desk.”
“I mean, don’t you think it’s odd we do all of this stuff for 6 months, almost to the day, then get an assignment, and it all goes wrong.”
“That our instructors were frauds?”
“We didn’t know that, and apparently they didn’t either. Do you know if any of it was real?”
“Seemed to me it was. And we only have this Monica’s word that Severin and Maury are frauds. I mean, I was surprised to learn they allegedly didn’t exist, but you and I both know that in organizations like the security services have wheels within wheels, departments unknown to other departments, event MI5 or the police, so who’s to say what really happened.”
“And you say you now work for this character Dobbin, whose another department head. As is this Monica.”
Put like that, it seemed very confusing.
“There are others that I’ve run into, working for both Dobbin and for Severin.”
“You mean Severin is still out there?”
“Yes. He tracked me down.”
And when I said it out loud, it crossed my mind why he hadn’t come after her, but the answer to that was he might have thought I was the only one that O’Connell hadn’t killed.
“And he thinks you are still working for him?”
“It’s complicated. I’m kind of doing a soft shoe shuffle around all of them and trying to find out what the hell is going on while keeping them at arm’s length. That might go horribly wrong which is also a good reason why I need help. We really should find out what we got into.”
“I’d prefer not to. He hasn’t come after me.”
“He will. It’s only a matter of time. You’re in the system, and I have no doubt he has access to that system. You’ve just been lucky so far. And you equally know as I do, there’s no such thing as luck in our line of work.”
Another minute or so passed.
Then she said, “If you’re trying to scare the hell out of me, it’s working.”
IT’s time to put together a suitable blurb – or summary
…
El Qatar: Beyond the Golden Sands – A Destination with Secrets?
Sun-drenched shores, opulent hotels, and a world-class convention scene. Welcome to El Qatar, the glittering jewel of the desert, where luxury knows no bounds and every desire can be met. Or so it seems.
The Gilded Cage: An Invitation to Indulgence
Imagine stepping off the plane into the cool, air-conditioned embrace of San Madre, El Qatar’s vibrant capital and bustling port. You’re whisked away to a six-star resort, where endless amenities await. El Qatar prides itself on being a peaceful, world-class destination, perfect for international conferences, business elite, and those seeking unparalleled indulgence. From gourmet dining to exhilarating desert safaris, every experience is meticulously crafted to ensure your stay is nothing short of spectacular. Here, the phrase “satisfy any appetite” takes on a new, liberating meaning, catering to every whim with discreet efficiency and a touch of local charm. It is, by all accounts, a flawless facade of luxury and freedom, an oasis of calm in a turbulent world.
Whispers in the Desert Wind: A Glimpse Behind the Veil
Yet, beneath the polished marble and towering glass facades, El Qatar is an ancient land – arid, hot, and often dusty. Its history is as deep as the desert wadis, and its governance, while providing stability, operates with a certain… unspoken understanding. The peaceful exterior is a carefully maintained veneer, one that requires the right connections and, naturally, the right reciprocations. For those who look closely, the occasional flicker in the eyes of a local, a hushed conversation in a back alley of San Madre, or a sudden, unexplained absence might hint at a different reality, one far removed from the pristine resort brochures. This is a country where power is absolute, and dissent is a dangerous whisper.
The Looming Storm: A Paradoxical Conference
As the world prepares for a paradoxical Human Rights Conference to be hosted in El Qatar – an event that has raised more than a few eyebrows globally – there’s a palpable shift in the desert air. Whispers of discontent, once suppressed, have grown into a undeniable murmur among the citizens. Old stories of a democratic past are being retold with renewed fervor, and there’s talk of a prodigal son, the heir of a previous, more open government, poised to return and reclaim a legacy, stirring hopes and fears among the populace. The rebel factions, once relegated to the shadows, are growing bolder, sensing an opportunity to ignite a revolution that could redefine El Qatar’s future. The stage is set for an upheaval, disguised as an international gathering, with the very fabric of the nation about to be tested.
Discover the Untold Story: A Thriller Unveiled
It is into this crucible of luxury and rebellion that you are drawn. An unsuspecting visitor, or perhaps, a vital piece in a game you never knew you were playing. With the world’s eyes on El Qatar, and the very foundations of its power about to crack, alliances are fragile, loyalties are tested, and betrayal lurks in the shadows.
Into this powder keg steps our protagonist, tasked with protecting a woman whose safety could unravel everything. In San Madre, amid the gilded cages and the simmering revolution, their mission is not just about survival, but about holding the threads of a nation’s destiny. Will they simply be pawns in this desert game, or the catalysts for a new dawn? Discover the untold story of El Qatar, where the line between peace and revolution is as thin as the desert air, and every secret has a price.
Thrills, Spills, and just a dash of Romance 