It’s part of the reason why I have a writing blog.
In the first instance, it is to highlight the issues I have in every aspect of writing, from constructing a sentence to describing a scene, to conversing between characters, and not losing the plot.
But it cuts a lot deeper than just the writing; there’s all that other tacky stuff, like marketing. The self-published author also has to be a consummate ad man, right out of the fifties and sixties, with all the slick means of selling what some might call the unsellable.
I have managed to hit every pot home and brick wall; there is.
Perhaps the best part is showcasing my writing, whether it is an episode of a long book, a short story, or parts of a novella.
But what is the most satisfying is the comments where nearly everyone is positive about my work, and sometimes, they will buy a book.
I confess I’m not going to become an international best-selling author overnight, in a week, month or even a year. But it is still a thrill when a book registers in the same column.
Conversely, I have quite a number of other authors’ websites and blogs that I read, and I make time every week to read other authors’ work, offer my opinion, and give a review, that rare thing that all authors need as part of their marketing strategy.
Then there’s the so-called widow of the eldest son, the man who would have been king,
If they knew where he was.
And there’s a story to go with that; now he’s starting to shake the trees, just to see what falls out.
Our protagonist visits Edward’s fiancé, Arabella.
She was detained, in not so many words, when she was trying to leave the castle.
A preliminary investigation reveals that Edward had changed his will to leave Arabella the Paris apartment he owned and a sizable annuity several days before he disappeared.
There’s some dispute about his friendship with the skier he was supposed to be helping.
Does she know why he did that?
Are the tears and sadness real?
Was she trying to escape so that if they were meeting, they would have somewhere to live and money to live on?
She is expected to stay for the King’s funeral, and the others too.
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.
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!
It’s part of the reason why I have a writing blog.
In the first instance, it is to highlight the issues I have in every aspect of writing, from constructing a sentence to describing a scene, to conversing between characters, and not losing the plot.
But it cuts a lot deeper than just the writing; there’s all that other tacky stuff, like marketing. The self-published author also has to be a consummate ad man, right out of the fifties and sixties, with all the slick means of selling what some might call the unsellable.
I have managed to hit every pot home and brick wall; there is.
Perhaps the best part is showcasing my writing, whether it is an episode of a long book, a short story, or parts of a novella.
But what is the most satisfying is the comments where nearly everyone is positive about my work, and sometimes, they will buy a book.
I confess I’m not going to become an international best-selling author overnight, in a week, month or even a year. But it is still a thrill when a book registers in the same column.
Conversely, I have quite a number of other authors’ websites and blogs that I read, and I make time every week to read other authors’ work, offer my opinion, and give a review, that rare thing that all authors need as part of their marketing strategy.
John Pennington’s life is in the doldrums. Looking for new opportunities, and prevaricating about getting married, the only joy on the horizon was an upcoming visit to his grandmother in Sorrento, Italy.
Suddenly he is left at the check-in counter with a message on his phone telling him the marriage is off, and the relationship is over.
If only he hadn’t promised a friend he would do a favour for him in Rome.
At the first stop, Geneva, he has a chance encounter with Zoe, an intriguing woman who captures his imagination from the moment she boards the Savoire, and his life ventures into uncharted territory in more ways than one.
That ‘favour’ for his friend suddenly becomes a life-changing event, and when Zoe, the woman who he knows is too good to be true, reappears, danger and death follow.
Shot at, lied to, seduced, and drawn into a world where nothing is what it seems, John is dragged into an adrenaline-charged undertaking, where he may have been wiser to stay with the ‘devil you know’ rather than opt for the ‘devil you don’t’.
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, and because of it, he has now been roped into what might be called a suicide mission.
An hour later we were stopped by the side of the road, at a point where another road, or, rather, a track headed to the left into the forest.
A short distance before that I noticed a sign, battered and faded, advertising an airport, a sign I thought had been put there as a joke.
Of course, when I remembered the conversation I had with Monroe back on the plane and the fact we had a specialist pilot in our group, it all began to make sense.
Our exit strategy.
I only wished I had internet coverage so I could check the presence of an airport in what looked to be the middle of nowhere.
Only Davies seemed unperturbed.
I had to ask. “Did you know there was an airport here?”
“Of one, used by fly-ins for the Garamba National Park. Not much of an airstrip though, and we don’t exactly have up to the minute details on its surface, but as recently as a week ago a small plane had landed there.”
“Thanks for telling me.”
“All you had to do was ask the right question.”
It seems I didn’t know what the right questions were, what might be called an occupational hazard on a job like this.
Everyone had got out of their cars to stretch their legs and prepare for the next phase of the operation, which was to meet with the kidnappers. I expected Jacobi would be on the sat phone talking to their leader, advising we had arrived.
I went back to Mobley, standing with the Ugandan soldier that had been assigned as his driver, smoking a cigarette. I was surprised he hadn’t joined the others who had gathered ahead of the lead vehicle.
“Nice shooting back there,” I said. It was for a man under pressure to make the shots, and give the rest of us a chance to take care of the others. That no one else got shot was a miracle.
“Just another day at the office.”
“Well, it hasn’t ended yet. I want you to go to the airstrip and get it under surveillance. There is supposed to be an aircraft there, whether for our use or just there so we can steal it I’m not quite sure. But if there’s a plane there, I want you to make sure it doesn’t leave, but as quietly as possible. We should be along later with the packages. I’m going up to tell the Colonel he’ll be joining you. He might not want to, but he’s done enough for us. I don’t want him to make enemies unnecessarily.”
“As you wish. I’ll be along shortly.”
“Good. Make sure your radio is working and on. I need to know if anything goes sideways.”
“It won’t.”
I wish I had his confidence.
A minute later I reached the front of the convoy and saw why there seemed little animation among the group. Monroe had Jacobi on his knees and a gun on the back of his neck.
“This is an interesting development Lieutenant. Is there a problem I should know about?”
“I reckon the weasel sold us out back there. Maybe even called them in to shake us down for one reason or another. Didn’t try too hard to negotiate with the commander.”
No, he hadn’t. And the thought had crossed my mind too. A bit of cash on the side, split with the commander. There didn’t seem to be any intent of the commander’s part to shoot us, so it was a pity we had to kill them all. If they were part of the kidnapper’s operations, things might get a little dangerous.
“Before you kill him,” I said, “Did he tell you how the call to the kidnappers went?”
“Didn’t ask.”
“Perhaps you should.”
Mobley picked that moment to drive up alongside Jacobi and the Lieutenant.
“Problem?” he asked through the window.
“No. We’re practicing our run at the kidnappers.”
He shrugged. I looked over at the Colonel. “Time for you to be moving on. You don’t need to be in on the next part, for plausible deniability. I suspect if the leader of this group sees you, and makes any connection back to the Ugandans, it could cause trouble.”
“Nothing I couldn’t handle.”
“Better if you didn’t have to. My man needs help at the airstrip and a man of your authority might just smooth over problems if he needs it.”
“You’re having a plane sent in?”
“I’d like to think so, might even get you home in time for a late supper.” I glared at Jacobi. “How does he get to the airstrip?”
“Normally, through the town, but there’s a track about 200 yards up the road. Go left, follow the road, then turn right at the first fork.”
He stood staring at the ground for a minute, hopefully considering doing as I asked. I was not sure what I was going to do if he didn’t. It was preferable he didn’t come with us.
“OK. You have a point. No need stirring up my Congo friends any more than I already have.”
He went over to Mobley’s car and got in, replacing the Ugandan soldier as a driver.
“See you when we see you,” Mobley said, and the Colonel drove off after a wave.
Back to my other problem.
“You’ve had time to think about your answer, Jacobi, so tell us.”
“An eight-mile drive along the next track, then instead of taking the fork to the airstrip, go left, and drive to you reach the checkpoint.”
“The meeting is on.”
“They’re waiting for us.”
“In more ways than one, I’d say,” Monroe muttered. “He’s outlived his usefulness in my book.”
Ordinarily, I would agree with her, but we still needed him. There might have been an initial negotiation, but it was far from what the end deal would be, and he had to be there to complete it. And if he was leading us into a trap, well, we’d just have to wait and see.
“We still need him, so ease up on the aggression. If he has double-crossed us, you can shoot him. Until then, play nice. But, just as a precaution, you and Stark can bring up the rear, stop about a mile short, and do some recon between there and the checkpoint. If anyone is thinking of sneaking up behind us, I want to know about it.”
Monroe shook her head, then eased the gun away from him. A nod to me.
“He can go with you in the lead car. Davies can come with me and keep driving the car. They’ll be expecting four vehicles.”
“Fair enough.” I turned to Baines, the first time I’d addressed him since getting on the plane at the black site. “You wouldn’t happen to know if there’s a portable rocket launcher among that film equipment, would you?”
“And half a dozen shells. Don’t know how they managed it, but it’s there.”
“Easy to get at?”
“If need be.”
“Good.” I looked around at the rest of the team. “Everyone had time to calm their nerves.”
I’d watched Jacobi drag himself to his feet and try to brush the dust of his clothes. It didn’t help restore what was once quite clean and crisp linen. No one helped him, in fact, if I gave the order to shoot, all of them would. Monroe’s accusation struck a chord with the others.
“We’d better get going,” she said, heading for the last vehicle after being joined by Davies. Out of earshot, she said something to her, and I heard them laughing.
I was not sure what it was about, but as long as it eased the tension in her. She had discovered which car was carrying the diamonds, co-incidentally the car I’d been driving, so we needed a situation so that we could remove the diamonds from the equation when we arrived at the checkpoint. There was no way the kidnappers were going to let us retrieve the package once we got there, and I had no doubt we would be separated from the cars, and the equipment, so that, if possible, the kidnappers could gain the upper hand.
Or that was how I suspected it would go down. It was only a matter of time before I was proved right or wrong.
Everyone else got back into the cars, and with Jacobi sitting in the front with me, I started moving forward.
I wasn’t prepared, not mentally anyway. I never was when going into battle.
For a story that was conceived during those long boring hours flying in a steel cocoon, striving to keep away the thoughts that the plane and everyone in it could just simply disappear as planes have in the past, it has come a long way.
Whilst I have always had a fascination with what happened during the second world war, not the battles or fighting, but in the more obscure events that took place, I decided to pen my own little sidebar to what was a long and bitter war.
And, so, it continues…
…
Johannsen hadn’t signed up for this. He’d been in the room when Leonardo reported to Wallace, to tell him that the villagers had been neutralised, and he brought the ring leaders of the so-called resistance to the castle.
By his reckoning, Leonardo and his men had killed probably 20 or so people who had nothing to do with the war, other than try to live around the war going on in their backyard.
In fact, when he had arrived at the castle, the intention was to work with the locals and the resistance to facilitate the onward movement of prized defectors. Until Jackerby arrived, and the dynamic changed.
Johannsen hadn’t realised that Wallace was a double agent, not until it was too late.
The thing of it was, Wallace thought he was a double agent too, a belief Johannsen had taken extreme care not to dispel. And, where it was possible, he had tried to help those caught up in Wallace’s trap.
Wallace was already in situ at the castle when Johannsen arrived with another four men to join those already there, on order from London to vet the incoming defectors. Those four he had met at the plane, and he hadn’t realised they were not who they were supposed to be. By the time the four who had been replaced were found, it was too late to stop the mission.
That brought the complement to 10 including Wallace and himself. Then he received a message, one he assumed was from Thompson, advising the arrival of a further 5, Jackerby and four soldiers.
He soon discovered that those orders were false.
When Jackerby reported to Wallace, and the fact Wallace sent him out of the room, he stayed behind, hidden, to listen to the conversation. There he discovered he was in the midst of an enemy operation that had enlisted a number of double agents across Euprope from the German Army.
He then tried to warn Thompson in a coded message, but that had been substituted by Wallace with another, causing another lamb to be sent to the slaughter, Atherton. When Jackerby first arrived, he advised Wallace, not Johannsson, that Atherton was not one of them, so an attempt was made on,his life, but failed.
For a while that was the equivalent of throwing a cat among the pigeons.
By the time the paratroopers arrived, there was no effort to hide who they were or what they were doing. The castle was, for all intents and purposes, a Nazi stronghold, there to collect and execute defectors. All he had to do was play his part, and try not to rouse the suspicions of Jackerby, whom, it seemed, trusted no one.
Wallace wasn’t all that interested in being as suspicious as Jackerby, who had to be gestapo, or worse, one of the SS.
But luck was on Johansson side when he took a plan to Wallace that would essentially free Atherton, and then have Atherton lead them to the other resistance. It was also a master stroke to select Burke, a simple man who liked to think everything was his idea.
That Atherton had got away was no fault of his, but those charged with following him. Jackerby had tried to mess with him, but Wallace intervened, telling Jackerby that he had had missing people too and should be out there looking for them.
With any luck, Johansson thought, they would be dead, a likely result since none of them had come back yet. Now, all he could do was sit and wait for Atherton and whoever was left from the resistance to come and stop Wallace, and especially Jackerby.
Johansson knew that Atherton had a good working knowledge of the castle’s architecture, because on one occasion they had discussed archaeology. Johansson was not an archaeologist, but had worked with one and an assistant, before the war, at several digs.
He was hoping Atherton had a idea where there might be a secret entrance to the castle. It was old, and in his spare time, he had been pacing out room measurements, looking for nooks and crannies, and anything else that would be useful.
He had found a room full of swords, not exactly in fighting condition, but might be useful in a situation that called for a weapon. After all, he had taken a few sword fighting lessons at the university.
He had traversed several stone passageways, found two different passageways from the upstairs down to the radio room, and beyond that, where there was an exit or entrance, what in modern terminology would be called the tradesman’s entrance.
It was for all intents and purposes, a back door.
He had also gone around the whole perimeter of the outer castle wall, looking for holes. When he thought about it, leaving holes in the wall was asking for trouble because the idea was to keep people out, not to leave quickly and quietly in the middle of a siege.
And this castle had seen a few sieges in its time. More than once if he could travel back in time, he would have like to see what it was like 200 years ago, or more.
But there were only three entrances or exits that he knew of. There were no grates on the ground, or anywhere within 20 yards of the exterior wall, or conveniently hidden in the surrounding forests.
He was also sure there were hidden passageways inside the castle that must go somewhere, a result of checking internal measurements of rooms, and a few came up oddly short a few yards.
Still down in the dungeon on another of his subterfuges, the new arrivals guard had just appeared.
M is for — Metamorphosis. An unrecognisable change, not necessarily for the better
…
A change is as good as a holiday.
I said that once, in jest, but Joey had taken it to heart.
Joey has been like that since we were little, from that first day at elementary school and then off and on until we graduated college.
Well, I did. Joey had been too preoccupied with the latest love of his life, Agnetha from Sweden. She didn’t have a last name, or he just didn’t ask.
That was probably the reason when she returned to Sweden and didn’t come back, Joey had no means of finding her.
He tried.
And now he was heartbroken
I looked at my phone and re-read the message that Joey had sent me. It had been nearly three months, partly on that odyssey to Sweden, partly hiding at his parents’ retreat at Martha’s Vineyard wallowing in self-pity, and then just disappearing.
“I’m back, bigger and better than ever. See you at the usual haunt, 3:00 p.m.”
Typical Joey.
You could never keep a guy like him down. Another round of psychoanalysis, his mother indulging his every whim, and there he was, Joey 2.0.
This would be Joey 13.5. Maybe.
Last time, he had gone surfer-Dan, the rippling muscles and six pack, board shorts and muscle tee, and to top it off, the bleach blonde hair.
With that came the beach buggy and the most expensive surfboard money could buy. And after lessons from a world-famous surfer, he still couldn’t stay on the board long enough to get to the other side of the wave.
What was it going to be this time?
I was supposed to have afternoon tea with Penelope, the girl I had decided to spend the rest of my life with. I just had to tell her that.
I’d recognised the signs that she wanted more, but I had been holding back, waiting for a sign that my job was going to move upwards, with that a commensurate raise in salary that would fund the move in together.
We had been looking at apartments, but on what I was making, it wasn’t enough. With the call from Wickham in HR this morning and the fact I was on the shortlist, I made it ideal to tell her.
I told her Joey had texted, and knowing how she felt about him, we could postpone until later, but she said she was only available then and didn’t mind.
That in itself should have set off alarm bells.
Perhaps I was too preoccupied with Joey 13.5.
I was running late, which was highly unusual, but Wickham called again for no apparent reason, taking an inordinate amount of time to say nothing.
When I arrived, I saw Joey and Penelope talking animatedly and, if my eyes were not mistaken, flirting with him.
It was not hard to see why.
Joey had finally decided to become the executive type his father had always wanted, the heir apparent finally growing up.
Penelope had always joked about looking for that elusive, rich, dark, handsome billionaire type that always seemed to be taken.
There he was.
When she saw me, she suddenly became more aloof, which, to me, was the last warning sign that the good ship Lollypop had run aground.
What’s that saying? He who hesitates is lost.
I put on my best happy to see you have and came up smiling and astonished in the same expression.
“Well, look who has finally joined the human race.”
I sat down next to Penelope, but not next to Penelope. She smiled in my direction, but I think she knew that I had seen their display.
There was no kissing or touching.
I could feel the ice wall building between us.
“Had to, Ethan. Had to. Agnetha was the last straw that broke my mother’s tolerance level. It was time to shape up or ship out.”
An inheritance of 20 billion dollars could do that to a young man. I was lucky to put together 20 thousand dollars at best, and Penelope had expensive tastes.
“Can you believe it. Joey is having a soiree at the Martha’s Vineyard place, and we’re invited. It’ll be such fun.”
I saw the look between them.
I sighed. That last look at the shoreline so near and yet so far, just before I went under.
Was it possible that I could just understand what Joey had felt when Agnetha had decided to go home and not leave a calling card?
“It will be, but I won’t be able to make it.” I looked at her. “But don’t cancel going because of me. I’m sure you’ll be fine on your own.”
I stood.
“Hey, Ethan. What’s going on?”
I looked at him. “I’m sure you are more aware of what’s going on, Joey, than I am.”
There was a look of concern on Penelope’s face. “Are you alright?”
I turned to her. “Perfectly. We’ll talk later, but I have to get back to work. Wickham scheduled a meeting just before I stepped out, the reason I’m late. You two carry on without me. I wouldn’t make very good company at the moment.”
With a wan smile and a nod to Joey, I turned and left. I doubted I would see or hear from either of them again.
It’s funny how things work out.
Walking slowly back to the office, I wasn’t angry or upset with either of them. In any other set of circumstances, I might have been, but something told me that what had happened was meant to happen.
Yes, as my grandmother always said, things happen for a reason.
Penelope didn’t call, nor did I call her. What I’d seen was the last nail in the coffin that was our relationship. Obviously, she was not the one for me.
When I got back to the office, Wickham finally remembered what he’d called me about, and that was that I was not going to get the promotion this time; it was going to someone who had been there a short time, head hunted, and fast tracked.
It happened.
My opinion of him was less than what I had been told, but that was the corporate jungle. Paper qualifications counted for more than experience.
I quit and walked out of the office fifteen minutes later. I didn’t bother going back to my office to throw what little I had into the obligatory cardboard box. I left the phone and keyboard with Dave, the security guard and probably the only real friend I had in the building.
While walking to my apartment, a small, cramped space in the Lower East Side, I pulled out my own cell phone, a cheap serviceable model that had just enough bells and whistles to get onto the airline sites and book a ticket to (Arizona) later that afternoon.
I gave notice on the apartment, packed what I needed into a backpack, and a half hour later, I took that one look back on the life I’d never liked.
It took a few seconds to open my eyes and see what was really going on around me.
There was no point in telling my parents what had happened. They had always eschewed my choices, that I never wanted to live in their shadow or take the advantages they were willing to hand out, like my brothers had.
It’s why I never told anyone how insanely rich my family were. How else would I have known Joey. We had both taken the same path and had a bet going on who would crumble first.
He did.
A week later, after that fateful 3:00, an envelope arrived with a crisp ten-dollar note. Nothing else.
Bet settled.
I won, but in the scheme of things, I’d lost.
Gran, at least, was understanding. She was a wise old lady who had to endure the worst of what the Lancaster’s were, mean, nasty bullies who ruled with an iron fist.
She hadn’t wanted that for me and had convinced me to strike out on my own. I had, and when I failed, she was there to pick up the pieces.
There weren’t that many pieces to pick up.
“Your parents are coming to visit.”
Breakfast was mandatory. Those first few days after returning, she had let me alone, but after that, the ranch foreman came in with a bucket of cold water.
It only happened once.
“Should I go down to the south paddock and camp out? I don’t really want my mother to tell me the same old stuff.”
“No. You need to stand up to her. I’m surprised she still comes here after the last time.”
Grandma and Mother hated each other. Gran called her a heartless gold digger, which wasn’t far from the truth, though it hadn’t started out like that.
“Have you heard from Penelope?”
My Gran knew everything about everyone and had said she was not the girl for me. I knew she had an army of private investigators, so she probably knew more about her than Penelope knew herself.
As for Joey, he was a lost soul. She knew that his parents and grandparents were not at fault for his state of mind. He just wanted an easy life and thought that their money would complicate things. Except he still took his weekly allowance.
We agreed to disagree
“No, but then she doesn’t know where I am or what my number is to call.”
“A girl like that is more resourceful than you might think.”
I gave her one of those looks I gave her sometimes just before she came out with a revelation.
“Are we talking about the same Penelope?”
She just shook her head. Something was afoot.
I was learning to be a ranch hand. Well, that wasn’t quite true; I’d been doing that since I could sit on a horse. I think the correct term was learning the ropes.
Lately, my life could be summed up in a series of metaphors.
The foreman, son of the foreman before him and so on, ubiquitously named Larry, yes, you guessed it, was going through the finer points of peeling of a single beast from the herd.
My roping skills needed refinement, but I was getting there.
It was fine but cool. Fall, just before the snow arrived and Winter settled on the landscape. It was that part of the year I loved.
Especially Christmas.
I always, without fail, came home for Christmas but never brought Penelope. For obvious reasons.
We were not far from the main house, part of the herd getting checked out before changing pastures. I could see a car coming along the road that led from the main road to the house.
My parents.
My father hated the farm, hated where he’d come from, and preferred to be something else, anything but a rancher. Not like in the old days, almost a law unto themselves.
My Gran still was, to a certain extent.
I looked over at Larry, and he nodded. Time to go and greet them. Gran had insisted I be there.
I arrived just in time, as the car pulled up at the bottom of the stairs. The ranch house was impressive, a two story mansion with surrounding verandas on both floors, so impressive it could be seen a mile from the main road.
I was still sitting on the horse, dusty and sweaty from the ride. The chauffeur got out and opened the door for my father first, my mother second, and then a third passenger, Penelope.
Odd that she should be travelling with my parents.
She immediately saw me. I was going to get down. Now, I’d say what I needed to and then get back to work.
After giving me a long, hard stare, she said, “You look different.”
Neither my father nor mother said anything other than the usual look of disdain and followed my Gran inside. She had given me a different look, one I didn’t recognise.
Should I get off my high horse?
“No. It’s still the Ethan you knew before. It’s just that I’m where I belong. Why are you here?”
“You are a hard person to find. To be honest, I was astonished you had disappeared into the wind in one afternoon. I called. Phone disconnected. I went to your apartment, it was up for rent, called your work, you had resigned. Why?”
“There was nothing left for me in New York. When I saw you with Joey, I knew everything I wanted to achieve was a pipe dream.”
“But I’m not with Joey, I never was.”
“It didn’t look like it. You are someone who likes material things, very expensive material things. That apartment, even if I got the promotion, and I didn’t, probably wouldn’t, by the way, still would barely cover the rent.”
She didn’t reply but instead made a face that left me somewhat confused.
“OK. I was momentarily diverted. But in his defence, he told me that he would never date a girlfriend of his best and only friend in the world. He was as surprised as I was when you left without a word.”
She hadn’t moved. Neither had I, except the horse was getting restless. He wasn’t used to standing around. I patted him on the neck and told him it wouldn’t be for much longer.
“You didn’t tell me about all this.” She looked around and then back at me.
“Why would I? A girl has to love me, not for what I have or as it happens, don’t have, but for plain old nobody me. It’s my number one rule.”
“That’s what Joey said. Joey said you never really needed anything but the right people by your side.”
“And you?”
“A fool who took her eyes off the ball for that fraction of a second, all it takes to lose the one you finally realise is the right one, the only one.”
“Who has wealthy connections, the sort who could fund the sort of lifestyle you could easily become accustomed to. I’m sure when Joey realises you’re free, he will give you everything you want. I have to get back to work.”
I left her there, staring at me with a look that if it could kill, I would be dead.
Here’s the thing.
She annoyed me. She was flirting with Joey. In the back of my mind, I sort of knew if she was my girlfriend, Joey would not try to take her away from me.
He did that once, very early in our friendship, and I punched him, very hard, where it hurt. And didn’t speak to him for months.
But she flirted with him. She didn’t flirt with others, or perhaps she did, and I didn’t know. But that, for me, wasn’t really acceptable. Perhaps I was too demanding, but once you’ve been cheated on, it leaves a scar that never quite heals.
Now, I didn’t know what I wanted. I thought I did; I thought she was the one. Now, she knew I had the family that could fund those desires.
Everything was different.
Except…
Seeing her again brought back a lot of memories because she had been the one I had spent the most time with and probably knew me better than anyone else.
I didn’t think I would find anyone who had that ability to bring out the best in me and get me to strive for more and achieve more than I thought I could.
But the bottom line in any relationship now or ever is that there was never going to be a pile of money to pander to her every wish. That Lower East Side apartment, though cramped and dingy, was infinitely preferable to that in Trump Tower on the Upper West Side, overlooking Central Park.
We had spent some time there, and she hated it. She, herself, lived in a posher apartment in the upper west side with four other girls, all of whom aspired to a better life.
I’d often wondered what she saw in me. I was never going to give her the things she wanted, even if I did climb up that corporate ladder.
All this went around and around in my head while unconsciously doing all the tasks Larry set me, as if I had been doing it all my life. Perhaps all I needed was to be reminded of who I was.
As the sun began to set, we headed back. I didn’t want to go back to explain myself to my parents or my grandmother, who by now would be very unhappy with me. I think I knew who it was who told Penelope where I was. What I didn’t understand was what changed her mind about her. I could name at least three times when she told me I could do better.
Then, looking up into that setting sun, I could see a lone rider coming from behind the house where the family stables were located.
Coming closer, I could see it was a woman and then closer still that it was Penelope. I had no idea she could ride a horse.
Well, it never came up in any conversation.
Larry looked at me. “Your friend?”
“Was.”
“Is. City girls get on horses to impress young Ethan. And she sits well.”
We both stopped and waited until she reached us.
Larry greeted her in his usual manner, “Miss. Not a good idea to be out here this late.”
“Larry, is it?”
He nodded
“I’m Penelope. Ethan’s grandmother said it was fine for you to leave me in Ethan’s care.”
“Did she now. You need to know this fellow is a little careless when left to his own devices. I don’t think I can.”
“I trust him completely, Larry.”
Larry shook his head. “Your funeral, ma’am. If that’s what you want?”
“I do.”
“Fair enough.” He glared at me. “You look after her, or you will have me to deal with. Understood?”
I did and nodded
“Good. Tomorrow. Early. Don’t make me come and get you.”
He was still muttering to himself as he headed back to the stables.
I sat there the whole time and watched the proceedings. I was not sure what she was up to, nor my grandmother sending her out like this.
“What are you doing?”
“Riding a horse. It’s one of the more sedate in the stable, but I don’t think your grandmother quite believed me when I said I could ride.”
“Can you?”
“Since I could walk. My mother thought it would be an asset, along with accountancy so I could manage running a house, ballroom dancing in case I needed to attend a ball, or simply dance a waltz at my wedding, horse riding because she always believed my husband would be a rider, cooking because she said the way to a man’s heat was through his stomach. There are others too numerous to mention, but in the end, before she died about two years ago, she said it was her opinion I would be quite the prize “
“And you were fine with that?”
“Where I come from, Ethan, it was either that or working as a server in a diner, a teacher, or a governess. I wasted an education because I thought chasing the unattainable was better, only to have to run away to a large city where no one knew the mistakes I’d made. Even as that nobody you professed to be Ethan, you never once looked down your nose at me. You loved me unconditionally. You never asked who I was, and so I loved you back, equally and unconditionally. You still do. I know you do. I can feel it when you look at me. If you really hated me that much, I would have seen and felt the revulsion and believe me, I know what that’s like.”
My grandmother knew who she was from the start, and yet she didn’t intervene. Or tell my parents. What was it about this girl that had finally impressed her?
“I’m not who you think I am, Ethan, but I didn’t lie to you. I just skimmed over the bad bits. The worst, perhaps, is that I have a daughter, the mistake that to me was not a mistake but the best thing to happen to me. No one wants to date the mother of a young child. I should have told you ages ago. I’m sorry I didn’t.”
And still my grandmother didn’t set off the alarm bells. What could I say?
“You know I’m not going to take handouts from anyone in my family, that I have to make it on my own. I don’t know how I can be the sort of man you need in your life.”
“But you are exactly who I need, who I want. I’m not looking for rich, Ethan. I found you long before I knew who you were, and it didn’t matter. It’s taken a long time to realise that. It’s why I’m here, now, hoping against hope you will forgive me.”
It might have been a different story had I not received a text from Joey. I don’t know how he got my number but then he had the resources to do almost anything.
And if he wanted Penelope, she wouldn’t be here.
He basically told me I was the biggest fool on the planet, which was pretty rich coming from him. He said that she had wanted to know more about me because she knew that there was more. I wasn’t telling her, but that he said was not for him to tell. Instead, he was regaling her with stories of our youth, and how he got into trouble, and I got him out of it. Perhaps I had misinterpreted interest in the story as something else, which would never, ever happen. He said he had told her to tell me the truth about who she was and why I would be missing out on the one true love of my life. He added it might be sooner than I think and not to botch it.
It had begun to worry me that I had.
“Your grandmother told me about a shack, somewhere in this south paddock, the one you threatened to go and hide in when you hear your parents are coming. By the way, they are not so bad.”
“You obviously met them on a good day.”
“Try flying down in the corporate jet with them. I was scared half to death I was going to get the third degree. Instead, a chef cooked lunch, and we had French champagne. Haven’t they heard of cheese and pickle on rye and bottled supermarket water?”
“They can’t do cheap. I’m sorry.”
“So am I. They didn’t give me the option to decline. The shack?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“Because your grandmother thinks we need to start again, this time on a proper footing with no lies or omissions.”
“It’s a few hours, in the dark, over hill and down dale.”
“It’s a clear sky and a full moon.”
“Two hours in the saddle?”
She smiled. “I’m made of strong stuff, Ethan, as you will find out. And I’m sure Larry won’t mind another cowgirl at muster time.”
“Let’s just see if you survive the ride first.”
“So, we’re good?”
“Ask me tomorrow morning.”
She shook her head. “You’re never going to admit you’re wrong, are you?”
“Maybe.”
“You’re going to vex me till the end of time.”
“Yep. Are we going to keep jabbering or are we going?”
“Lead on.”
I did, trying not to show that I believed I had won my first argument with any woman I’d ever known. It was highly likely, however, it was going to be the last, so I would savour it for as long as possible.
Include the elements, who does this person think they are, who are they really, what are they running from or to, and what just happened they cannot undo.
…
I knew her simply as Emma, the enigmatic woman who lived in Apartment 772, five doors up from me. Sometimes she would be alone, sometimes with a man whom I assumed was her husband. They were quiet and unassuming and had lived in the block for about a year.
Amonth the others on our floor, there were the busybodies, the people who had more time than sense and spent their time talking about matters they generally knew nothing about. Emma was one of those subjects.
To them, she was not married, the man was really two who looked the same, possibly brothers, and that arguments had been heard, up the stairs, and from within the apartment. I simply told them it was none of their business.
Each morning, I would leave for work at the same time. Emma was more erratic but would also leave for work about the same time. I took the bus from the stop outside the building; she took a bus from the other side in the opposite direction.
Each evening, I would come home on the bus, stopping on the other side of the street. Not so often, Emma would come home in a car, driven by the man she was seen with in the building. She would get out, and he would drive off, only to return a half hour later on foot.
No, I wasn’t a stalker; she had simply piqued my interest.
…
This morning was different.
I came down to join the others at the bus stop, waiting for the bus that was three minutes late. i was running late.
Emma was on the other side of the road, standing next to the shelter, but there was something else. A case, not a large one, not a small one, but one just enough for her to pack enough for a free days away.
This sent my deductive mind into overdrive.
IT was cold but the sun was out, and she was holding rather than wearing her red coat with the fur collar. She was not wearing her usual white blouse and black pants, but a summery yellow dress with flowers on it, a yellow ribbon in her hair, and instead of practical flat heeled shoes she was earing high heels. It completely transformed her into someone else.
My assumption that she was an office clerk or shop salesperson was shattered. Perhaps she was something else entirely. Had my bus been on time, I would have missed this transformation. Perhaps she was emulating the epitome of a 1950s housewife.
She was certainly nothing like the type of woman that would be associated with the man who brought her home. He was rough, unkempt, perhaps a factory worker or something else. My mind briefly went to a dark place and back again. No, it was not possible.
Of course, all of this speculation could be resolved in an instant if only I had the courage to talk to her, and now that I had seen her in this guise, that might never happen. She was far too nice for the likes of me.
I;d seen her glance nervously over the road, as if she was looking for the man in the car, the man we saw with her in the corridors of our building. Did he bring her home last night? Was she running away from him? It would explain the nervous glances. Those nervous glances extended to the direction the bus came from, and she was willing it to arrive so she could get away.
If he did come out and saw her trying to escape, would I try to intervene and save her? No. I was too much of a coward to do that. Those furtive and apprehensive looks confirmed my suspicion that she was leaving. He was not her type, and maybe was once, but not now. Not this version of her.
Had they argued? Had it got violent? I hadn’t heard anything, but then I never did. I went to bed early so that I was fresh for the next day. What could have happened that precipitated this? If she was trying to get away, would she come back?
…
My attention was diverted for a moment on a pair of badly behaving school children. when I looked back, I could see the stricken look on her face, staring at the entrance to the building. I turned around and saw the man, quickly looking up and down the street, then over the road.
His manner told me he had seen her, and he was almost running towards her.
I looked up the road and the bus wasn’t coming. She had picked up the suitcase but in the motion of doing that she had dropped her coat, and buy the time she picked it up he was there. He grabbed her by the arms and was yelling, not too loudly, at her.
I couldn’t understand the language he was speaking.
She looked devastated and didn’t put up any resistance. He was trying to take her case and she wouldn’t let him. Others at the bus stop were moving away, not wanting to get involved.
I made a decision. it might not be the right one, it might be none of my business, but to me it looked like he was hurting her.
I crossed the road and stepped up to them.
He stopped and glared at me. “You want to go away, little man.” Full of himself and arrogant. I knew then what he was. Italian, recently arrived, with halting English. There were a few near where I worked, men who were recently arrived, looking for a new life.
I pulled out my badge and showed it to him. “You might want to rethink that, sir.” He stepped back slightly. My detective’s badge carried only so much weight, and people like him generally had no respect for the law.
I looked at her. “Are you alright? Is this man bothering you?”
She looked at me, trying to remember where she had seen me. It was certainly not as a policeman. I rarely let anyone know who or what I was.
Over the other side of the road, my bus came and went. Damn.
“Yes,” she said. “You are from apartments. A policeman. Yes, this man is annoying me. I wish to go to my sisters.”
“And this man?”
“Comes from home, thinks we are still,” she hesitated, looking for a word, “friends. That is home, not here. He is terrible man at home, why I leave. I do not wish to see him, now or ever again.”
“OK.” I turned back to him. “Leave now, sir. She does not want to see you.”
“Not true. This is wife, my woman, she is mine, do what I tell her!”
She came and stood beside me. “Was married, divorced now. I am not his.”
He took a step towards me and tried to push me aside to get to her, as she moved backwards to stand behind me. Perhaps I acted on instinct, perhaps it was the fact he was going to shove me, but I grabbed his arm, twisted him to one side, and when he tried to resist, I levered him onto the ground, pinning his arms behind him.
A patrol car pulled up just as he hit the ground, and two uniformed officers jumped out, one with a hand on his gun. I held up my badge and said, “This man was trying to take this woman away forcefully, I told him to stop after identifying myself as a police officer, and when he didn’t, I had to restrain him.
The bus arrived and pulled in front of the police car. The two policemen had the man in custody and were holding him.
She looked at the very angry man, and at the bus. “May I catch bus. My sister is waiting for my arrival.”
“You want to prefer charges against this man?” I asked.
“No. I just want to leave. Please.”
I looked at the two officers. “Go. We’ll detain this man for a few minutes. Give him a warning.”
“Thank you.” She picked up her case and walked over to the bus. She took one last look back, and then she was gone.
I had no doubt I wouldn’t see her again.
They gave him a warming and then let him go, waiting until he had walked off. He gave the nastiest of looks, and I knew my business wasn’t done with him. He didn’t look the sort who would let it go.
Thrills, Spills, and just a dash of Romance 