Every time I close my eyes, I see something different.
I’d like to think the cinema of my dreams is playing a double feature but it’s a bit like a comedy cartoon night on Fox.
But these dreams are nothing to laugh about.
Once again there’s a new installment of an old feature, and we’re back on the treasure hunt.
…
Our local area had six churches. We really only needed two, the catholic church, a big, imposing stone structure that was almost a mini cathedral, showing the wealth and influence of the church, commanding the best location.
The other, a protestant church, a very old, simple wooden structure that had been on its less salubrious site, once belonging to the missionaries who inhabited the land with the first settlers, before the Pope saw an opportunity, and moved in.
Nadia and her family were catholic. So were the Benderby’s.
My family was protestant, well, not really churchgoers at all, which was a contradictory standpoint because nearly everyone else in the area were devout worshippers. I remembered my father’s comments, when he was alive, watching all the sheep going to be fleeced every Sunday at the big church on the hill.
To me, the devoutness of the Benderby’s and Cossatino’s seemed at odds with their profession, as most of their activities were sins against God, and proving my father’s point. I never saw the point of it, but nevertheless, my mother dragged me to church, in my younger days, every other Sunday just in case my soul needed saving.
Now, standing in the graveyard beside the imposing but badly in need of repairs catholic citadel, I felt a shiver go through me. Mid-morning, there was a cool breeze at odds with the warmth of the sun beating down from a cloudless sky.
“You feel that?” I asked Nadia.
She was in a very summery dress and sun hat, looking at a group of gravestones belonging to the Archer family, going back over a hundred years.
“Ghosts, perhaps? I hadn’t realized Mrs. Archer had died.”
“You’ve been away. A lot has happened in the last year or so.”
“I liked her. She used to look after Vince and me when we were kids. He used to terrorize her.”
Somehow that didn’t surprise me. It was rumored Vince was given a gun when he was five years old and his father taught him how to use it. Once, he was caught bringing it to school. Now, given the number of school shootings, it hardly registered back then other than a rebuke from the headmaster.
A half-hour later, after surveying a graveyard that had a lot of the areas most prominent people buried there, I came across an almost disintegrated stone that marked the final resting place of Friedrich Ormiston, the son of Heinrich who died in 1976, the same year as Friedrich which was an odd coincidence.
A little further investigation showed there was another Heinrich who died in 1899, and another Friedrich, who died in 1924. It showed there had been Ormiston’s around these parts for over 150 years. A little further away there were two more gravestones, more recent, belonging to Wendy and Alan, both of whom died within a year of each other 5 years ago.
I took notes on each of the Ormiston’s, their birth dates and death dates, so I could possibly look them up in the parish records, and the local newspaper office, The Jefferson Leader, a publication that was still produced to this day, and it’s current editor, once an old friend from school who had expansive aspirations in the world of journalism and ended up back home tending to the paper his great, great grandfather started.
It seemed a lot of us from that generation couldn’t escape the clutches of our town or families.
“You’d think there’d be a mausoleum or something.” Nadia had come up from behind and startled me.
“Perhaps the treasure quests took all the money. Besides, after you’re dead, you don’t really care where you finish up.”
“You’ve seen the monument our family has. I’m not looking forward to finishing up there.”
I’d seen it, on the other side of the graveyard, along with a dozen others, all in a row, like a row of houses in the more affluent part of the town. The Cossatino’s were larger than life in death too.
“I hope the bed is comfortable, you’re going to be there a long time.”
She gave me one of her ‘if looks could kill’, the smiled, perhaps deciding it was my feeble attempt at humor.
“I take it we’re finished. I think I’m beginning to believe there really are ghosts here.”
I saw her shiver, and then I felt it, a cold rush of air, and what might have been a hand on my shoulder.
“I think it’s time to leave.” I shut the notebook, put it in my pocket.
She did not need to be asked twice. Curiously, as we made our way towards the gate, I thought I saw the priest looking at us from the front doorway of the church, but when I looked back there was no one there.
It could be said that of all the women one could meet, whether contrived or by sheer luck, what are the odds it would turn out to be the woman who was being paid a very large sum to kill you?
John Pennington is a man who may be lucky in business, but not so lucky in love. He has just broken up with Phillipa Sternhaven, the woman he thought was the one, but relatives and circumstances, and perhaps because she was a ‘princess’, may also have contributed to the end result.
So, what do you do when you are heartbroken?
That is a story that slowly unfolds, from the first meeting with his nemesis on Lake Geneva, all the way to a hotel room in Sorrento, where he learns the shattering truth.
What should have been solace after disappointment turns out to be something else entirely, and from that point, everything goes to hell in a handbasket.
He suddenly realises his so-called friend Sebastian has not exactly told him the truth about a small job he asked him to do, the woman he is falling in love with is not quite who she says she is, and he is caught in the middle of a war between two men who consider people becoming collateral damage as part of their business.
The story paints the characters, cleverly displaying all their flaws and weaknesses. The locations add to the story at times, taking me back down memory lane, especially to Venice, where, in those back streets, I confess it’s not all that hard to get lost.
All in all, a thoroughly entertaining story with, for once, a satisfying end.
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…
…
When Carlo stopped, I was out of breath and gasping. We all were. The smoke was getting more intense. At times it had made navigation almost impossible.
In front of us were more trees, but these looked different to those we had passed through. I watched Carlo walk back and forth a few yards each way, then disappear into the bushes. A minute later he put his head out and said, “This way.”
We followed him. It was a hidden entrance down to a drain that was quite deep and headed back towards the castle one way and into the forest the other.
If the fire kept up by tomorrow the cover would be gone.
It was still a hard walk through the bushes, but we made it to a wireframeand door with a lock on it. It looked ancient as if it hadn’t been used in decades, even longer.
Carlo produced a rather odd looking key and unlocked it. I would have thought it was rusted shut, but appearances were deceptive. The lock was almost new.
But the gate had not been used for a long time and it took Carlo a few minutes to force it to open. It had rusted shut. When it did finally move, it was with a very loud screeching sound.
We filed in and he relocked it. Anyone thinking they heard something and came to investigate; it would end up on the other side of the gate.
So far so good.
For a moment I was back in my element, the archaeologist exploring caves, a wooden fire torch lighting the way, dampness underfoot, and the trickling of water down the walls. All around the dankness from continual dampness.
It was easy the pretend if only for a few minutes I had not been caught up in the war, that I was on a quest for lost treasure, hidden away at the end of a labyrinth.
The reality was we were quite literally in an ancient sewer and the original builders of the castle had used an underground waterway to tap into to remove waste. It was far more effective than modern systems and used the earth’s own ecology.
Inside the castle, the places where the waste used to drop down into the waterway had been covered over by trapdoors that were still there, and that was how we were going to gain access, through rooms that were no longer used.
We were going in via four access points, two men at each door, and mine with one of Blinkys men would be going into the area where the soldiers were camping to mop up whatever the bombs left behind, before closing off an exit.
Carlo had reserved the last one for himself and the boy, where he hoped to find Wallace and the new German commander.
Our cue to move: the bombs going off.
We just had time to get to the point and lower the trapdoors. Then climb up onto the floor and wait by the door. From the other side, Carlo said, anyone in the castle would only see a continuation of the wall panelling.
We made it with seconds to spare.
We were closest to the bombs and the percussive effect was disorientating for a few seconds before we pushed through the door and into the smoke and dust raised by the explosions.
As the dust settled, we could see dead soldiers, and mess everywhere. If a soldier was still alive, we shot them, systematically picking our way through the debris. I counted thirty-one dead by the time we reached the other side, the other exit from the space.
In the distance, we could hear sporadic gunfire coming from other parts of the castle, and then, after taking up our position, near the tank, we waited.
Three soldiers came bursting out of the exit and we shot them too..
Ten minutes later Carlo yelled out, “It’s me, don’t shoot.” Then he stepped out the door. “It is done.”
The castle was ours.
“You wish to speak to your old commander before I execute him?
“Wallace?”
He nodded.
“Sure”
I followed him into the castle and walked through familiar passageways and rooms, much had not changed in a long time.
Wallace and the new commander were tied up in the dining room. The remnants of a meal and several empty bottles of wine were on the table.
Wallace watched me from the doorway until I stood before him.
“I knew it was a mistake letting you go. Jackerby was convinced you were a stupid fool who would unwittingly lead us directly to the resistance. I told him you were cleverer than you looked.”
“And yet…”
“Perhaps I was tired of people like you being killed needlessly. What just happened, that was a waste of human life.”
“I didn’t start the war, and for the record, I didn’t want any part of it. Unfortunately, higher authorities deemed otherwise, and here I am. This is not a victory to savour.”
“A victory nonetheless.”
I shrugged. “It didn’t have to be like this, but at least we’ve weeded out a few more traitors.”
Every time I close my eyes, I see something different.
I’d like to think the cinema of my dreams is playing a double feature but it’s a bit like a comedy cartoon night on Fox.
But these dreams are nothing to laugh about.
Once again there’s a new installment of an old feature, and we’re back on the treasure hunt.
…
After a night with Nadia
…
Was it a revelation to discover there was a side to Nadia that I would never have suspected? All those years of being terrified of her, and her brother, had hidden it, from me and probably a lot of others.
Perhaps she hadn’t known any better, and that time away from her parents and family had opened her eyes to another world, one where you didn’t have to be the scariest person in the room.
I was going to wait until she went to sleep, but she asked me to join her on the top of the bed and then snuggled into my back. At first, I was terrified, of what, I was not sure, but after a while, realizing I was not going to get away at a reasonable hour, I relaxed, and overcome with tiredness, fell asleep.
When I woke, she was on the other side of the bed, changed out of her clothes and into demure pajamas. Had she been waiting for me to wake?
“You have a contented look about you when you’re asleep,” she said. She was facing me, awake but a certain weariness had come over her.
“My father used to call it the sleep of the just. I never quite knew what that meant. I try not to have dreams or nightmares. Please tell me you haven’t lain there watching me. That would be far too creepy.”
“Just for a bit. I’m not used to being with a man, even if there’s nothing happening. Which is good, by the way. I want us to remain friends, and soon as something else starts, that’s where it all ends..”
Obviously, she had been thinking about stuff, like all girls seem to do, making a simple friendship into something a lot more complicated, and the last thing I needed was complicated. Or Vince knocking on my door.
“I’ve got a few hours before I have to go to work, and I was going to visit a few churches.”
“Why?”
“It might help to track down the Ormiston relations and see what they’ve got to say about the treasure.”
She sat up, a more serious expression taking over. “You think there’s more to the story.”
“What story?”
“Well, it’s obvious you know about Boggs’s grandfather and old man Ormiston, the chap who owned all the land from the mountains to the sea, at one point in time. It’s where we bought our property at Patterson’s Reach. It’s a dump of a place that smells because of oil shale and gas leaks. There’s a fault line through the middle of it and makes all the land near it unsellable. The people who negotiated the deal with Ormiston were cheated, or so it goes, so there’s no love lost between the families.”
Interesting, and probably why Patterson’s Reach was an undeveloped backwater. No residential or commercial zoning.
“Good to know, and definitely a reason to stay away.”
“You want coffee?” She asked, changing the subject. “I had some sent up earlier.”
Which sent an alarm bell off in my head. What if the room service person saw me in her room? It wouldn’t take much for him to tell her father, or worse, Vince.
“He didn’t see you if that’s what you’re thinking.”
My mother said I had an expressive face.
“We have to keep this thing, whatever we have, under wraps, otherwise Bogg’s might get upset, and at the moment he’s not very happy with me.”
“Because of me?”
“Partly, but more because I have to work, and I’m no longer at his beck and call.”
“Then you’d better get up so we can trawl the churches. I could do with a religious refresher. We’re Roman Catholic by the way, and my father doesn’t believe in mixed marriages.”
“I’m not converting, nor are we getting married.”
“Pity. I reckon I’d make a good wife.” And then she laughed. “You should see your face.”
Right. Sometimes it was hard to know when she was joking. But just the same, it would never work.
I shrugged. “You could do a little better than a warehouse clerk.”
“Sometimes it’s not what you are, but how you make a person feel, and right now, I feel happy. But, as you say, I could do a lot better.”
Oddly, after hearing that, I felt a little disappointed.
Williams’ Restaurant, East 65th Street, New York, Saturday, 8:00 p.m.
We met the Blaines at Williams’, a rather upmarket restaurant that the Blaines frequently visited and had recommended.
Of course, during the taxi ride there, Alison reminded me that with my new job, we would be able to go to many more places like Williams’. It was, at worst, more emotional blackmail, because as far as Alison was concerned, we were well on our way to posh restaurants, the Trump Tower Apartments, and the trappings of the ‘executive set’.
It would be a miracle if I didn’t strangle Elaine before the night was over. It was she who had filled Alison’s head with all this stuff and nonsense.
Aside from the half-frown, half-smile, Alison was looking stunning. It had been months since she had last dressed up, and she was especially wearing the dress I’d bought her for our 5th anniversary that cost a month’s salary. On her, it was worth it, and I would have paid more if I had to. She had adored it and me, for a week or so after.
For tonight, I think I was close to getting back on that pedestal.
She had the looks and figure to draw attention, the sort movie stars get on the red carpet, and when we walked into the restaurant, I swear there were at least five seconds of silence, and many more gasps.
I even had a sudden loss of breath earlier in the evening when she came out of the dressing room. Once more, I was reminded of how lucky I was that she had agreed to marry me. Amid all those self-doubts, I couldn’t believe she had loved me when there were so many others out there who were more appealing.
Elaine was out of her seat and came over just as the Head Waiter hovered into sight. She personally escorted Alison to the table, allowing me to follow like the Queen’s consort, while she and Alison basked in the admiring glances of the other patrons.
More than once, I heard the muted question, “Who is she?”
Jimmy stood, we shook hands, and then we sat together. It was not the usual boy, girl, boy, girl seating arrangement. Jimmy and I on one side and Elaine and Alison on the other.
The battle lines were drawn.
Jimmy was looking fashionable, with a permanent blade one beard, unkempt hair, and a designer dinner suit that looked like he’d slept in it. Alison insisted I wear a tuxedo, and I looked like the proverbial penguin or just a thinner version of Alfred Hitchcock.
The bow tie had been slightly crooked, but just before we stepped out, she had straightened it. And took the moment to look deeply into my soul. It was one of those moments when words were not necessary.
Then it was gone.
I relived it briefly as I sat and she looked at me. A penetrating look that told me to ‘behave’.
When we were settled, Elaine said, in that breathless, enthusiastic manner of hers when she was excited, “So, Harry, you are finally moving up.” It was not a question, but a statement.
I was not sure what she meant by ‘finally’, but I accepted it with good grace. Sometimes, Elaine was prone to using figures of speech I didn’t understand. I guessed she was talking about the new job. “It was supposed to be a secret.”
She smiled widely. “There are no secrets between Al and me, are there, Al?”
I looked at ‘Al’ and saw a brief look of consternation.
I was not sure Alison liked the idea of being called Al. I tried it once and was admonished. But it was interesting that her ‘best friend forever’ was allowed that distinction when I was not. It was, perhaps, another indicator of how far I’d slipped in her estimation.
Perhaps, I thought, it was a necessary evil. As I understood it, the Blaines were our mentors at the Trump Tower, because they didn’t just let ‘anyone’ in. I didn’t ask if the Blaines thought we were just ‘anyone’ before I got the job offer.
And then there was that look between Alison and Elaine, quickly stolen before Alison realised I was looking at both of them. I was out of my depth, in a place I didn’t belong, with people I didn’t understand. And yet, apparently, Alison did. I must have missed the memo.
“No,” Alison said softly, stealing a glance in my direction, “No secrets between friends.”
No secrets. Her look conveyed something else entirely.
The waiter brought champagne, Krug, and poured glasses for each of us. It was not the cheap stuff, and I was glad I brought a couple of thousand dollars with me. We were going to need it.
Then, a toast.
To a new job and a new life.
“When did you decide?” Elaine was effusive at the best of times, but with the champagne, it was worse.
Alison had a strange expression on her face. It was obvious she had told Elaine it was a done deal, even before I’d made up my mind. Perhaps she’d assumed I might be ‘refreshingly honest’ in front of Elaine, but it could also mean she didn’t really care what I might say or do.
Instead of consternation, she looked happy, and I realised it would be churlish, even silly, if I made a scene. I knew what I wanted to say. I also knew that it would serve little purpose provoking Elaine or upsetting Alison. This was not the time or the place. Alison had been looking forward to coming here, and I was not going to spoil it.
Instead, I said, smiling, “When I woke up this morning and found Alison missing. If she had been there, I would not have noticed the water stain on the roof above our bed, and decided there and then how much I hated the place.” I used my reassuring smile, the one I used with the customers when all hell was breaking loose, and the forest fire was out of control. “It’s the little things. They all add up until one day …” I shrugged. “I guess that one day was today.”
I saw an incredulous look pass between Elaine and Alison, a non-verbal question; perhaps, is he for real? Or, I told you he’d come around.
I had no idea the two were so close.
“How quaint,” Elaine said, which just about summed up her feelings towards me. I think, at that moment, I lost some brownie points. It was all I could come up with at short notice.
“Yes,” I added, with a little more emphasis than I wanted. “Alison was off to get some studying in with one of her friends.”
“Weren’t the two of you off to the Hamptons, a weekend with some friends?” Jimmy piped up and immediately got the ‘shut up, you fool’ look that cut that line of conversation dead. Someone forgot to feed Jimmy his lines.
It was followed by the condescending smile from Elaine, and “I need to powder my nose. Care to join me, Al?”
A frown, then a forced smile for her new best friend. “Yes.”
I watched them leave the table and head in the direction of the restroom, looking like they were in earnest conversation. I thought ‘Al’ looked annoyed, but I could be wrong.
I had to say Jimmy looked more surprised than I did.
There was that odd moment of silence between us, Jimmy still smarting from his death stare, and for me, the Alison and Elaine show. I was quite literally gob-smacked.
I drained my champagne glass, gathering some courage and turned to him. “By the way, we were going to have a weekend away, but this legal tutorial thing came up. You know Alison is doing her law degree.”
He looked startled when he realised I had spoken. He was looking intently at a woman several tables over from us, one who’d obviously forgotten some basic garments when getting dressed. Or perhaps it was deliberate. She’d definitely had some enhancements done.
He dragged his eyes back to me. “Yes. Elaine said something or other about it. But I thought she said the tutor was out of town and it had been postponed until next week. Perhaps I got it wrong. I usually do.”
“Perhaps I’ve got it wrong.” I shrugged as the dark thoughts started swirling in my head again. “This week or next, what does it matter?”
Of course, it mattered to me, and I digested what he said with a sinking heart. It showed there was another problem between Alison and me; she might have been telling me lies. If what he said was true and I had no reason to doubt him, where was she going tomorrow morning, and had she really been with a friend studying today?
We poured some more champagne, had a drink, then he asked, “This promotion thing, what’s it worth?”
“Trouble, I suspect. Definitely more money, but less time at home.”
“Oh,” raised eyebrows. Obviously, the women had not talked about the job in front of him, or, at least, not all the details. “You sure you want to do that?”
At last, the voice of reason. “Me? No.”
“Yet you accepted the job.”
I sucked in a breath or two while I considered whether I could trust him. Even if I couldn’t, I could see my ship was sinking, so it wouldn’t matter what I told him, or what Elaine might find out from him. “Jimmy, between you and me, I haven’t as yet decided one way or another. To be honest, I won’t know until I go up to Barclay’s office and he asks me the question.”
“Barclay?”
“My boss.”
“Elaine’s doing a job for a Barclay who recently moved into the tower a block down from us. I thought I recognised the name.”
“How did Elaine get the job?”
“Oh, Alison put him onto her.”
“When?”
“A couple of months ago. Why?”
I shrugged and tried to keep a straight face, while my insides were churning up like the wake of a supertanker. I felt sick, faint, and wanted to die all at the same moment. “Perhaps she said something about it, but it didn’t connect at the time. Too busy with work, I expect. I think I seriously need to get away for a while.”
I could hardly breathe, my throat was constricted, and I knew I had to keep it together. I could see Elaine and Alison coming back, so I had to calm down. I sucked in some deep breaths and put my ‘manage a complete and utter disaster’ look on my face.
And I had to change the subject, quickly, so I said, “Jimmy, Elaine told Alison, who told me, you were something of a guru of the cause and effects of the global economic meltdown. Now, I have a couple of friends who have been expounding this theory …”
Like flicking a switch, I launched into the well-worn practice of ‘running a distraction’, like at work when we needed to keep the customer from discovering the truth. It was one of the things I was good at, taking over a conversation and pushing it in a different direction. It was salvaging a good result from an utter disaster, and if ever there was a time that it was required, it was right here, right now.
When Alison sat down and looked at me, she knew something had happened between Jimmy and me. I might have looked pale or red-faced, or angry or disappointed, but it didn’t matter. If that didn’t seal the deal for her, the fact that I took over the dining engagement did. She knew well enough that the only time I did that was when everything was about to go to hell in a handbasket. She’d seen me in action before and had been suitably astonished.
But I got into gear, kept the champagne flowing and steered the conversation, as much as one could from a seasoned professional like Elaine, and, I think, in Jimmy’s eyes, he saw the battle lines and knew who took the crown on points. Neither Elaine nor Jimmy suspected anything, and if the truth be told, I had improved my stocks with Elaine. She was at times both surprised and interested, even willing to take a back seat.
Alison, on the other hand, tried poking around the edges, and, once when Elaine and Jimmy had got up to have a cigarette outside, questioned me directly. I chose to ignore her and pretend nothing had happened, rather than tell her how much I was enjoying the evening.
She had her ‘secrets’. I had mine.
At the end of the evening, when I got up to go to the bathroom, I was physically sick from the pent-up tension and the implications of what Jimmy had told me. It took a while for me to pull myself together; so long, in fact, that Jimmy came looking for me. I told him I’d drunk too much champagne, and he seemed satisfied with that excuse. When I returned, both Alison and Elaine noticed how pale I was, but neither made any comment.
It was a sad way to end what was supposed to be a delightful evening, which, to a large degree, it was for the other three. But I had achieved what I set out to do: to play them at their own game, watching the deception once I knew there was one, as warily as a cat watches its prey.
I had also discovered Jimmy’s real calling; a professor of economics at the same University Alison was doing her law degree. It was no surprise in the end, on a night where surprises abounded, that the world could really be that small.
We parted in the early hours of the morning, a taxi whisking us back to the Lower East Side, another taking the Blaines back to the Upper West Side. But, in our case, as Alison reminded me, it would not be for much longer. She showed concern for my health and asked me what was wrong. It took all the courage I could muster to tell her it was most likely something I ate and the champagne, and that I would be fine in the morning.
She could see quite plainly it was anything other than what I told her, but she didn’t pursue it. Perhaps she just didn’t care what I was playing at.
And yet, after everything that had happened, once inside our ‘palace’, the events of the evening were discarded, like her clothing, and she again reminded me of what we had together in the early years before the problems had set in.
It left me confused and lost.
I couldn’t sleep because my mind had now gone down that irreversible path that told me I was losing her, that she had found someone else, and that our marriage was in its last death throes.
And now I knew it had something to do with Barclay.
How many of us have skeletons in the closet that we know nothing about? The skeletons we know about generally stay there, but those we do not, well, they have a habit of coming out of left field when we least expect them.
In this case, when you see your photo on a TV screen with the accompanying text that says you are wanted by every law enforcement agency in Europe, you’re in a state of shock, only to be compounded by those same police, armed and menacing, kicking the door down.
I’d been thinking about this premise for a while after I discovered my mother had a boyfriend before she married my father, a boyfriend who was, by all accounts, the man who was the love of her life.
Then, in terms of coming up with an idea for a story, what if she had a child by him that we didn’t know about, which might mean I had a half-brother or sister I knew nothing about. It’s not an uncommon occurrence from what I’ve been researching.
There are many ways of putting a spin on this story.
Then, in the back of my mind, I remembered a story an acquaintance at work was once telling us over morning tea, that a friend of a friend had a mother who had a twin sister and that each of the sisters had a son by the same father, without each knowing of the father’s actions, both growing up without the other having any knowledge of their half brother, only to meet by accident on the other side of the world.
It was an encounter that in the scheme of things might never have happened, and each would have remained oblivious of the other.
For one sister, the relationship was over before she discovered she was pregnant, and therefore had not told the man he was a father. It was no surprise the relationship foundered when she discovered he was also having a relationship with her sister, a discovery that caused her to cut all ties with both of them and never speak to either from that day.
It’s a story with more twists and turns than a country lane!
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…
…
War is hell.
I remembered an old Sargeant Major was telling us that going to war was not fun, that the very real possibility of getting killed should be the only thing on our minds.
Along with keeping your head down and being very aware of your surroundings.
Apparently, he had been at a place called Gallipoli, and from what I had read, that was a special kind of hell.
He had also said fifty per cent of us wouldn’t return. I hoped to be in the fifty per cent that did. Just to spite the old bastard.
I knew it was going to get problematical sooner than we thought, I could smell the aroma of burning bush on the air, and as we got closer to the castle, the smoke got denser.
Wallace had a cunning plan, he’d used flame throwers to set the bush on fire so we couldn’t get to the castle under the cover of the forest. It was a plan he hadn’t me about.
Carlo had stopped, also understanding what Wallace had done. Would this interfere with us getting to the external entrances, or if the other three were unattainable, could we get to the secret entrance?
I caught up to him. “Not exactly what we envisaged. I had no idea Wallace was planning this?”
“It is a logical move. He can’t leave the castle, and as it was, he knew the forest would give us cover until the very last moment.”
“And now?”
“Now we use another entrance. Take longer, but we’ll get there. Only problem, they will be expecting us, and waiting.”
The others joined me, just as Carlo did an about-face and started going back the way we came.
“Where is he going?” Blinky asked.
“Another way. Wallace is burning our cover.”
He shrugged. “I suppose it would be too much to ask for some rain?”
“Sadly no. Fine and clear with a touch of fog, well, smoke maybe.”
He didn’t think it was funny. War I guess could do that to you.
When Thompson and company were planning the operation that was set up primarily to get defecting Germans out of the country, there was only so much research that could be done.
It was one of the reasons I got a seat at the table, my exploits in Italy looking at ancient buildings suddenly became a red-hot reason to be included. The war had all but petered out in that part of the country, the Germans were shoring up the Italians, and the Allies had bigger plans to invade via Sicily, or one of those islands.
Someone mentioned something hush-hush about Italy and the road back to peace, but at that point in time, the end of the war was not in sight.
The point was, the castle was in a strategic location, it was only being held by a small garrison, according to the resistance, ideal for what Thompson wanted. Approvals gained, he sent in a team of German-speaking soldiers to replace those there, as if nothing had happened and then set up the pipeline.
It worked.
For a while anyway. Several months after the new team had set themselves up and the personnel was moving through, it all stopped.
First thought was the Germans had discovered what was going on and switched the team again. Until Thompson noted we were still getting reports from Wallace, one of his men on the ground.
That’s when Thompson decided to send me.
And. No, it was not just a matter of saying, great, I always wanted to holiday in Italy, and particularly Tuscany. My excuse, I was not trained to be a commando or a secret agent.
Of course, I made that one fatal mistake, I had enlisted to fight in the war, and it was not my decision where they sent me.
So, I was on the next plane to Tuscany.
The trouble was, Thompson and I both agreed that it was more likely the men we selected had not changed their allegiances, they just went back to what they were before. Wallace, Johannesen and Jackerby had all been extricated from blown missions, and Thompson had been left scratching his head as to who the mole was in his office.
Too many coincidences proved it wasn’t.
Except coincidentally, Thompson had teamed up all the traitors in one place.
So, my mission was twofold, first to ascertain if they were traitors, and, if they were, to execute them.
The next problem, the mission was almost over before it started, because even though Thompson had told Wallace the wrong pick-up point where my plane would be landing, cloud cover made it impossible to guarantee I’d be jumping at the correct spot.
As it turned out, the resistance had planned a huge ambush in exactly the same place my plane landed, and I was in the middle of it. The rest as they say is history.
The thing is, ever since I landed, I had the benefit of a huge amount of good luck.
That couldn’t last.
Carlo seemed unfazed about the fire, perhaps he had expected it, but his only concern was time. We had to be in the castle just as the explosions started.
With 23 minutes to go, Carlo stepped up the pace. For a big man, he didn’t make much noise. I wished I could say the same for myself.
Every time I close my eyes, I see something different.
I’d like to think the cinema of my dreams is playing a double feature but it’s a bit like a comedy cartoon night on Fox.
But these dreams are nothing to laugh about.
Once again there’s a new installment of an old feature, and we’re back on the treasure hunt.
…
A dark room, a dark woman, and a dark desire.
A very, very bad combination.
But in a moment where my brain must have switched off for at least ten seconds, I kissed her back, and that was a fatal mistake.
I closed my eyes and went with it. Until one or other or both of us decided this was not the time or the place.
And then she said something that really worried me.
“I’m sorry.”
She unbolted the door, opened it and we stepped out. Instantly the temperature dropped forty degrees.
And sanity returned.
I tried getting my mind back onto realistic matters, like leaving. “Do you think they might be waiting, just in case there is someone here, like us?”
“Then we have to go another way.”
“There is only one way, the way we came. It was a dead-end where the torture room is, and, apparently, where there’s a safe.”
“WE’RE not staying to find out, maybe another day. It’s time to leave before they possibly come back. There’s a back way in here.”
I followed her out of the room, up two offices, and then into what would be the middle office. It looked like a reception area, with dusty seats along the wall, under peeling wallpaper. At the back there was another door, shut. She opened it, and it led to a passage.
“The cells.”
“Like a jail?”
“Like rooms for the shoplifters awaiting their punishment.”
She stopped at a doorway and looked in. I saw her physically shudder, before moving on.
“Bad memories?” I asked.
“It might not have happened if I’d acted my age, but you know what it’s like. When you’re sixteen, you want to be twenty-one, and when you’re twenty-one, you want to be sixteen again. Trouble is, you can’t get back what you’ve lost.”
I wondered briefly if that something was innocence. Some people seemed to think I still had mine, but I wasn’t so sure.
The passage didn’t go very far before it turned right, and then to the top of another staircase. We went down, and then to the left again. From what I could remember, we were on the other side of the mall.
There was another door, and we went through it, and out into the mall itself. It was the second level, near the center where the garden was, and moments later we were at the railing looking down to the ground floor.
And a faint glow of light, moving around as if it was being carried by someone moving slowly towards the pond.
And voices.
“Look, Alex, there’s no one here. We’ve just done a circuit of this creepy place and found no one and nothing else to show there is anyone here.”
“I can feel it.
“That’s the coke you had, Alex. Turns you paranoid. Let’s get the hell out of here, before the guards get back.”
We moved back from the edge just in time as a stronger beam of light swept past just where we had been standing.
She had held my hand as we moved backward, and I could feel a tremor in it.
After another sweep of the beam, he said, “I swear someone’s here.”
“It’s a ghost. There are supposed to be a few. Ask your father. He’s responsible for at least three of them.”
“There’s no such thing as ghosts.”
“That’s your opinion.”
“Just shut up and let’s go, before I shoot you myself, and then you can talk to your friends.”
We waited ten minutes until there was a boom, the sound of a door slamming shut. They had left by the front entrance where there was a large, heavier door, beside the large main entrance.
“Time for us to go too, Smidge.”
Even so, she didn’t let my hand go, not until we got back to her car.
And when we were back, safely inside her room, she asked me to stay. She said nothing on the way back. The bravado she had shown was just that, and the last encounter, at the mall center had shaken her.
Perhaps I would stay until her nerves had settled.
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.
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 acknowledgedthat something had 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 realises 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.
