When I first saw it I thought it was an old country estate, converted and expanded into a golf clubhouse.

It wasn’t.  It is a purpose-built clubhouse and function center for corporate seminars and wedding receptions, as well as catering to the golfer, and golf tournaments.

It also has a very good outlook over the golf course.

But, in my writer’s mind, this will provide inspiration for a story that could be set in a large country house,  with the central tower and lookout featuring in what might be a grisly death, and a group of guests who have gathered together to enact a mock murder that turns out to be very real.

Yes, the idea has been done to death over many many years, but I have a few new twists in mind.

Stay tuned.

Who’s telling the truth?

…

After the three women left, I stretched out in one of the chairs and closed my eyes.

Cecelia had disappeared into one of the bedrooms, I suspect the one with the biggest bed and its own private bathroom, and I tried not to think about her.  I tried not to think about Juliet either.

I heard Cecelia flop into the other chair opposite me a few minutes later.  “They’re all lying in one way or another.”

I opened my eyes, hoping she hadn’t changed into something more ‘comfortable’, like in the movies.

“Welcome to the real world.  I’m glad you played along.  It was a bit of a limb we’re out on at the moment, and I’m sure Alfie, after bursting into the flat will be having kittens.”

“Can we trust any of those three?”

“You’d think the countess being a countess would be trustworthy.”

“But…”

“She does come from a class of people who are a law unto themselves.  I don’t see her as a master criminal though, but she’s not telling the whole truth, just the parts she thinks we need to hear.  It’s the same with everyone in this business.  They try to anticipate our requirements.”

“I like the idea of being a bit player.”

“Never tell anyone who you really are.  I find it helps to allay their fears and stops them from thinking you can save them from anything.  First lesson I learned; I couldn’t save everyone.”

“Noted.”

“So, what do you think after hearing everything.”

“Anthony got some of it right, but his suppositions didn’t meet the facts on the ground.”

“Which is always the case.  Sometimes a lot worse for us when we get there.  We’re lucky this time we have a familiar face, Juliet.  It buys us some credibility.”

“You think it’s the old woman or Alessandro trying to kill them, or someone else, or was that attack staged…”

It was a thought I had in passing too, as real as it appeared.  If I thought too much about it, the fact was, just before the shooting started, we were both sitting ducks and he could have shot both of us dead.

A point to be noted and filed for later reference.

“Assuming it wasn’t, we have to get them over to Italy.”

“How?”

“How Larry got there.  A small plane flying under the radar.  If Rodby put you to work with me for a reason, it was probably to teach you all my tricks of the trade.  You accumulate a lot of them as you progress, and don’t get killed.  Moving secretly from place to place is a useful tool and you gather assets over time.  I know a guy who knows a guy, and tomorrow, with the three women, you will go find him and take yourselves off to Italy.  You will have two envelopes, the first the name of the pilot.  The second, is an address of a safe house near Sorrento.  Once they are safe, you will take up surveillance on the Sorrento Chateau, and the movements of the matriarch.  After I’ve dealt with Rodby, I’ll be over to talk to her.”

“Don’t you think that’s dangerous, I mean, Rodby will be very angry.”

“Do you want to go see him?”

“No.”

“Then let me worry about him.”

“You sure he won’t lock you up and throw away the key?

“Not if he wants the countess.”

© Charles Heath 2023

A story called “Mistaken Identity”

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And a great idea for a story.

That story is called ‘Mistaken Identity’.

I found this…


So near and yet so far.

What I found was the moon out in the late afternoon, a phenomenon that might happen on a regular basis, but this one of the few times I’ve seen it.

And it reminds me of something I was told a long time ago. Shoot for the moon. I never quite understood what the person meant, not until a long time later when I realised that I was being told nothing was impossible.

Had I ever achieved the impossible?

The thing is, each of us define what is possible and what is impossible ourselves, and is therefore different for every person. If you tell yourself it is impossible, then it requires a mind shift to get past that barrier.

But, the question still remains the same, did I achieve the impossible?

I never thought I’d write a book, or have it published. Some would say I still haven’t achieved that goal because I self published it on Amazon.

I think I achieved what I set out to do.

I never thought I’d get a university degree, but people had faith in me, and yes, I got it in the end.

I never thought, when I was younger, I would be a father, and sometimes I wonder whether it was worth it, but having grandchildren dispelled any perceived disappointment.

And what is on the impossible list now?

Not a lot. At my age, I don’t think it’s possible I will travel to the moon, nor afford to skirt the edge of space, as much as it would be amazing to look back at the planet.

I don’t think I’ll ever become a CEO, but then I don’t want to. Too much responsibility.

What’s left that is achievable?

Tracing my family history, and going back to where my ancestors came from, and, hopefully finding someone who was ‘famous’.