An excerpt from “Betrayal” – a work in progress

It could have been anywhere in the world, she thought, but it wasn’t.  It was in a city where if anything were to go wrong…

She sighed and came away from the window and looked around the room.  It was quite large and expensively furnished.  It was one of several she had been visiting in the last three months.

Quite elegant too, as the hotel had its origins dating back to before the revolution in 1917.  At least, currently, there would not be a team of KGB agents somewhere in the basement monitoring everything that happened in the room.

There was no such thing as the KGB anymore, though there was an FSB, but such organisations were of no interest to her.

She was here to meet with Vladimir.

She smiled to herself when she thought of him, such an interesting man whose command of English was as good as her command of Russian, though she had not told him of that ability.

All he knew of her was that she was American, worked in the Embassy as a clerk, nothing important, whose life both at work and at home was boring.  Not that she had blurted that out the first they met, or even the second.

That first time, at a function in the Embassy, was a chance meeting, a catching of his eye as he looked around the room, looking, as he had told her later, for someone who might not be as boring as the function itself.

It was a celebration, honouring one of the Embassy officials on his service in Moscow, and the fact he was returning home after 10 years.  She had been there once, and still hadn’t met all the staff.

They had talked, Vladimir knew a great deal about England, having been stationed there for a year or two, and had politely asked questions about where she lived, her family, and of course what her role was, all questions she fended off with an air of disinterested interest.

It fascinated him, as she knew it would, a sort of mental sparring as one would do with swords if this was a fencing match.

They had said they might or might not meet again when the party was over, but she suspected there would be another opportunity.  She knew the signs of a man who was interested in her, and Vladimir was interested.

The second time came in the form of an invitation to an art gallery, and a viewing of the works of a prominent Russian artist, an invitation she politely declined.  After all, invitations issued to Embassy staff held all sorts of connotations, or so she was told by the Security officer when she told him.

Then, it went quiet for a month.  There was a party at the American embassy and along with several other staff members, she was invited.  She had not expected to meet Vladimir, but it was a pleasant surprise when she saw him, on the other side of the room, talking to several military men.

A pleasant afternoon ensued.

And it was no surprise that they kept running into each other at the various events on the diplomatic schedule.

By the fifth meeting, they were like old friends.  She had broached the subject of being involved in a plutonic relationship with him with the head of security at the embassy.  Normally for a member of her rank, it would not be allowed, but in this instance it was.

She did not work in any sensitive areas, and, as the security officer had said, she might just happen upon something that might be useful.  In that regard, she was to keep her eyes and ears open and file a report each time she met him.

After that discussion, she got the impression her superiors considered Vladimir more than just a casual visitor on the diplomatic circuit.  She also formed the impression that he might consider her an ‘asset’, a word that had been used at the meeting with security and the ambassador.

It was where the word ‘spy’ popped into her head and sent a tingle down her spine.  She was not a spy, but the thought of it, well, it would be fascinating to see what happened.

A Russian friend.  That’s what she would call him.

And over time, that relationship blossomed, until, after a visit to the ballet, late and snowing, he invited her to his apartment not far from the ballet venue.  It was like treading on thin ice, but after champagne and an introduction to caviar, she felt like a giddy schoolgirl.

Even so, she had made him promise that he remain on his best behaviour.  It could have been very easy to fall under the spell of a perfect evening, but he promised, showed her to a separate bedroom, and after a brief kiss, their first, she did not see him until the next morning.

So, it began.

It was an interesting report she filed after that encounter, one where she had expected to be reprimanded.

She wasn’t.

It wasn’t until six weeks had passed when he asked her if she would like to take a trip to the country.  It would involve staying in a hotel, that they would have separate rooms.  When she reported the invitation, no objection was raised, only a caution; keep her wits about her.

Perhaps, she had thought, they were looking forward to a more extensive report.  After all, her reports on the places, and the people, and the conversations she overheard, were no doubt entertaining reading for some.

But this visit was where the nature of the relationship changed, and it was one that she did not immediately report.  She had realised at some point before the weekend away, that she had feelings for him, and it was not that he was pushing her in that direction or manipulating her in any way.

It was just one of those moments where, after a grand dinner, a lot of champagne, and delightful company, things happen.  Standing at the door to her room, a lingering kiss, not intentional on her part, and it just happened.

And for not one moment did she believe she had been compromised, but for some reason she had not reported that subtle change in the relationship to the powers that be, and so far, no one had any inkling.

She took off her coat and placed it carefully of the back of one of the ornate chairs in the room.  She stopped for a moment to look at a framed photograph on the wall, one representing Red Square.

Then, after a minute or two, she went to the mini bar and took out the bottle of champagne that had been left there for them, a treat arranged by Vladimir for each encounter.

There were two champagne flutes set aside on the bar, next to a bowl of fruit.  She picked up the apple and thought how Eve must have felt in the garden of Eden, and the temptation.

Later perhaps, after…

She smiled at the thought and put the apple back.

A glance at her watch told her it was time for his arrival.  It was if anything, the one trait she didn’t like, and that was his punctuality.  A glance at the clock on the room wall was a minute slow.

The doorbell to the room rang, right on the appointed time.

She put the bottle down and walked over to the door.

A smile on her face, she opened the door.

It was not Vladimir.  It was her worst nightmare.

© Charles Heath 2020

Top 5 sights on the road less travelled – Sicily

That’s an excellent choice! While the major sites like Taormina and the Valley of the Temples are stunning, Sicily’s true soul often lies in its quieter villages, ancient ruins, and dramatic nature reserves.

Here are five places or activities to explore on the road less travelled in Sicily:

1. Cycle and Swim the Egadi Islands (Favignana/Levanzo)

  • What it is: A small archipelago off the western coast near Trapani. Favignana is the largest and most accessible, and Levanzo is even smaller and more remote.
  • Why it’s less travelled: While popular with Italian vacationers, they remain largely car-free (especially Levanzo), promoting a slow, relaxed pace of travel that’s rare on the mainland.
  • Activity: Rent a bicycle upon arriving at Favignana’s port and spend the day cycling to the gorgeous turquoise coves like Cala Rossa and Cala Azzurra. On Levanzo, you can hike to the prehistoric Grotta del Genovese cave, featuring ancient Paleolithic rock carvings.

2. Explore the Labyrinthine Town of Erice

  • What it is: A beautifully preserved medieval hilltop town perched 750 meters above sea level, overlooking the city of Trapani and the western coast.
  • Why it’s less travelled: Many tourists bypass it for coastal towns. It’s famous for its atmospheric, narrow, cobbled streets and the frequent, dramatic mist that engulfs the town, making it feel completely isolated and otherworldly.
  • Activity: Wander the maze-like stone streets, visit the Norman Castello di Venere (Castle of Venus) built on the site of an ancient temple, and taste the famous local almond pastries from the historic Pasticceria Maria Grammatico.

3. Hike or Canyon the Gole dell’Alcantara

  • What it is: A spectacular series of gorges and canyons carved by the cold Alcantara River, located on the northern slopes of Mount Etna. The walls are made of dark, columnar basalt lava rock.
  • Why it’s less travelled: This is a nature and adventure destination that requires active participation, pulling visitors away from the historic towns.
  • Activity: Walk along the floor of the icy river (wetsuits/boots are highly recommended in the cooler months and often available for rent) or descend into the gorge for a dramatic, up-close view of the unique vertical lava formations.

4. Visit the Carved Cave Village of Sperlinga

  • What it is: A truly remote medieval village in the mountainous heart of Sicily, dominated by a Norman castle carved directly into the rock. The town’s name, Sperlinga, comes from the Greek word for “cave.”
  • Why it’s less travelled: Located deep in the rugged Sicilian interior, it is far from major tourist routes. It offers an incredible look at ancient rural life.
  • Activity: Explore the castle with its massive staircase carved from a single piece of rock, and wander through the small network of ancient cave dwellings (grottos) below the main structure that once housed the peasant community.

5. Discover the Hidden Baroque of Scicli

  • What it is: One of the spectacular Baroque towns of the Val di Noto (a UNESCO area), but significantly quieter and less visited than its neighbours, Noto and Ragusa Ibla.
  • Why it’s less travelled: It feels genuinely lived-in and has fewer large hotels, offering a relaxed and authentic glimpse of Sicilian life. It’s built into the cliffs of a canyon, giving it a unique layered appearance.
  • Activity: Stroll the main street, Via Francesco Mormino Penna, admire the honey-colored Baroque palaces and churches, and climb the hill to the top of San Matteo for a panoramic view of the town nestled in the valley.

“The Things we do for Love”, the story behind the story

This story has been ongoing since I was seventeen, and just to let you know, I’m 72 this year.

Yes, it’s taken a long time to get it done.

Why, you might ask.

Well, I never gave it much interest because I started writing it after a small incident when I was 17, and working as a book packer for a book distributor in Melbourne

At the end of my first year, at Christmas, the employer had a Christmas party, and that year, it was at a venue in St Kilda.

I wasn’t going to go because at that age, I was an ordinary boy who was very introverted and basically scared of his own shadow and terrified by girls.

Back then, I would cross the street to avoid them

Also, other members of the staff in the shipping department were rough and ready types who were not backwards in telling me what happened, and being naive, perhaps they knew I’d be either shocked or intrigued.

I was both adamant I wasn’t coming and then got roped in on a dare.

Damn!

So, back then, in the early 70s, people looked the other way when it came to drinking, and of course, Dutch courage always takes away the concerns, especially when normally you wouldn’t do half the stuff you wouldn’t in a million years

I made it to the end, not as drunk and stupid as I thought I might be, and St Kilda being a salacious place if you knew where to look, my new friends decided to give me a surprise.

It didn’t take long to realise these men were ‘men about town’ as they kept saying, and we went on an odyssey.  Yes, those backstreet brothels where one could, I was told, have anything they could imagine.

Let me tell you, large quantities of alcohol and imagination were a very bad mix.

So, the odyssey in ‘The things we do’ was based on that, and then the encounter with Diana. Well, let’s just say I learned a great deal about girls that night.

Firstly, not all girls are nasty and spiteful, which seemed to be the case whenever I met one. There was a way to approach, greet, talk to, and behave.

It was also true that I could have had anything I wanted, but I decided what was in my imagination could stay there.  She was amused that all I wanted was to talk, but it was my money, and I could spend it how I liked.

And like any 17-year-old naive fool, I fell in love with her and had all these foolish notions.  Months later, I went back, but she had moved on, to where no one was saying or knew.

Needless to say, I was heartbroken and had to get over that first loss, which, like any 17-year-old, was like the end of the world.

But it was the best hour I’d ever spent in my life and would remain so until I met the woman I have been married to for the last 48 years.

As Henry, he was in part based on a rebel, the son of rich parents who despised them and their wealth, and he used to regale anyone who would listen about how they had messed up his life

If only I’d come from such a background!

And yes, I was only a run away from climbing up the stairs to get on board a ship, acting as a purser.

I worked for a shipping company and they gave their junior staff members an opportunity to spend a year at sea working as a purser on a cargo ship that sailed between Melbourne, Sydney and Hobart in Australia.

One of the other junior staff members’ turn came, and I would visit him on board when he would tell me stories about life on board, the officers, the crew, and other events. These stories, which sounded incredible to someone so impressionable, were a delight to hear.

Alas, by that time, I had tired of office work and moved on to be a tradesman at the place where my father worked.

It proved to be the right move, as that is where I met my wife.  Diana had been right; love would find me when I least expected it.

lovecoverfinal1

Writing a book in 365 days – 328

Day 328

Writing exercise – He counted to one hundred like he had been told, but even when he finished, he couldn’t open his eyes.

It was a recurring dream.

He was back when he was a child, in a house that bordered on a forest, one of several houses along a winding, narrow lane.

It was on a holiday with his uncle, his father and mother once more dropping him off for the school holidays while they conducted business in another country.

He had a choice to go with his parents, but he preferred exploring with the other children, since he had no brothers or sisters to play with.

It was mid-afternoon, a warm summer’s day.

It was his turn to cover his eyes and count to 100 while the other children hid.

He would get to 65, and suddenly it seemed to get dark, much like when clouds came and blocked out the sun.

Then, when he reached 100, he would shiver, a cold wind coming from the forest, and in fear, he could not open his eyes.

He did not want to.

“So, you get to this point every time, but no further?  Have you tried opening your eyes to see what is happening?”

He had this recurring dream too many times for it not to mean anything, so he had looked up a dream interpreter to visit and find out what it meant.

“Yes, but that’s where I wake up.”

“Have you been to this place in your dreams?”

“Yes, when I was a child, I used to stay there for the holidays.  My parents had business elsewhere and thought I would be better off with my uncle.”

“He lived on the edge of the forest?”

“Yes.  So did others.”

“Did anything bad happen there?”

“Not as far as I remember?”

“Anyone die?”

“Not while I was there, or at least I don’t think so. I can’t remember such a thing happening, and it’s not something you are likely to forget if it happened.”

And yet, something had happened that had set off this series of dreams.

“I’ll have to think about the circumstances.  Was the house you stayed in old?”

“Very.”

“The forest?”

“Spooky, allegedly haunted.  I swear, once at night I had seen ghosts.”

“OK.  That’s a thing.  Did you have any relatives die that you knew or cared about?”

“No.  My dad died much later, from what my mother called mysterious circumstances, but there was nothing mysterious about it.  He was caught in the middle of a bank robbery, simply the wrong place at the wrong time.”

I remember my mother telling me after the police had come to the door. And another lingering memory of that day, that she didn’t seem all that surprised or distressed. I had thought she was being brave.

“I see.” He glanced down at the note pad on his lap, then wrote a few notes. When he looked up he said, “Would you be receptive to a hypnotism exercise, see if we can jolt what is in there.”

“It’s something then? I’m not going mad?”

“Oh, no. A recent event has likely triggered a deep-down memory, one that you, or your brain, had deemed to be too painful or best left alone. You might want to consider the possibility that it’s buried for a reason before attempting to recover it.”

True, he thought. There were parts of his past that were lost, including a week when he was fifteen, after he was involved in a traffic accident while in Paris with his parents. It was one of the few times he accompanied them because he wanted to see the Eiffel Tower.

He still wasn’t sure if he had or not.

“OK,” he said. “I’ll let you know.”

He is not in the forest.

That was evident when, this time while counting, he briefly opened his eyes and saw the floor.  Tiles.

“Keep counting, lad,” the gruff voice of a man nearby directed.  “And keep those eyes closed, or you will be in trouble.”

He reached a hundred.  There was no ‘coming, ready or not’.

“Again,” the gruff voice said.  “Slow and steady.”  Then much louder, almost in his ear, “Hurry up, 60 seconds, and we’re out of here.  No one gets any ideas.”

He could hear people hurrying around but was too afraid to look, and did as he was told, kept counting.

Forty-three, forty-four, forty-five…

“Come on.  We’re out of here.”

People leaving, then quiet.  He reached a hundred.  He wanted to open his eyes but couldn’t.

The man hadn’t asked him to restart.  Had he gone?  Should he look?

“Hey,” a voice that sounded like his father yelled out.

It was followed by a very loud bang and then screams.

He was sitting in a chair in the dream interpreter’s office.

The man was sitting opposite, calm.

“What happened?” he asked.  “Did you find out anything?”

“Yes.  Do you remember anything from the session?”

“No.  I dozed off and then just woke.”

“Yes, you remembered.  Hidden away.  You were with your father at the time of his death.  Wrong place, wrong time.  You were there, with him.”

“I cannot remember anything about it.  Or him.  Only my mother telling me he died.”

“Where were you when she did?”

“Home, I think, no, wait a minute.  We were in another city, a hotel room.  No, it wasn’t, it was a hospital.  I’m sure of it.  Hospital.”

“I think if you investigate it further, if you want to, I think there’s a truth there to be found.”

“Or not.  There’s a reason it was buried. I think I’ll leave it buried.  Nothing good can come of it.”

©  Charles Heath  2025

An excerpt from “Sunday in New York”

Now available on Amazon at:  https://amzn.to/2H7ALs8

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.

© Charles Heath 2015-2020

Sunday In New York

In a word: Bug

Being a computer programmer, this word had a particular meaning for me, where a part of the programme did something other than expected.

Like unexpectedly stopping and freezing the screen.  Some very famous programs and operating systems used to have a lot of these ‘bugs’.

More familiarly for all of us, a bug is an unwanted insect pest like a fly, or an ant, though there’s a host of those pesky ‘bugs’.

You could bug someone by hanging around and asking inane questions.

You could also bug someone by surreptitiously planting a microphone on them, or somewhere in their house, car, or office.

A person could have a bug, meaning there’s some germ or bacteria they’ve picked up that makes them very ill, like a cold, or pneumonia.  Or, more than likely, it’s a bug going around.  School children are particularly susceptible.

And if you like reading books you might have caught the reading bug.

You could tell someone to bug off, that is, to go away.

I might want to bug out, as in disappear, especially if there was someone I didn’t want to see.

Skeletons in the closet, and doppelgangers

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’.

Third son of a Duke – The research behind the story – 11

All stories require some form of research, quite often to place a character in a place at a particular time, especially if it is in a historical context. This series will take you through what it was like in 1914 through 1916.

The Geography of Stalemate: Tracing the Fixed Line of Attrition on the Western Front, 1914–1915

I. The Strategic Genesis of Stalemate: The Failure of the Schlieffen Plan

The stabilisation of the Western Front into a static line of trenches was not a foreseen event, but rather the direct consequence of the strategic collapse of Germany’s pre-war war plan, coupled with the overwhelming dominance of modern defensive firepower. The geographical extent of the initial German advance dictated the final position of the trenches that defined the conflict for nearly four years.

A. Pre-War Doctrine and the Crisis of August 1914

Prior to the outbreak of war in August 1914, German strategy was governed by the Schlieffen Plan, a design intended to ensure victory in a feared two-front war against both France and Russia.1 The core principle of this plan was speed: to deliver a massive, decisive blow against France by executing a vast enveloping attack through the neutral territories of Belgium and Luxembourg.3 The goal was to defeat the French military—which Schlieffen did not believe would necessarily adopt a defensive posture—within a matter of weeks, enabling German forces to then transfer their overwhelming strength eastward by rail to confront the supposedly slow-to-mobilise Russian Empire.1

The implementation of the plan, however, was marred by critical modifications made by Field Marshal Helmuth von Moltke. The original concept, which required the main German army strength (the “scythe”) to sweep through Belgium, demanded maximum possible force on the right wing.3 Moltke, concerned about French defensive attempts in Alsace-Lorraine and facing an unexpectedly rapid Russian advance in the East, diverted a significant portion of the invasion force.2 Historical records indicate that 25% of the German force originally designated for the western offensive, amounting to 250,000 troops, were transferred or held back.2

This decision to weaken the crucial right wing effectively ensured the plan’s failure to achieve its strategic objectives. The plan’s rigid nature demanded precise execution and overwhelming superiority at the point of attack, conditions that Moltke’s modifications eliminated.1 While the German Army initially achieved success, sweeping through Belgium and pushing Allied forces back in a sequence of battles (known collectively as the Battle of the Frontiers), they ultimately lacked the necessary strength and strategic depth to complete the maneuver that would have encircled Paris.4 The final position of the resulting trench line would therefore become, in geographical terms, a map of the internal failure of German strategic command.

B. Technological Pressure and the Inevitability of Entrenchment

The initial mobile warfare, occurring from August through early September 1914, confirmed a critical reality that predated the Marne: a revolution in firepower had outpaced advances in mobility.6 Modern weapons, specifically rapid-firing artillery and massed machine guns, gave the defender a colossal advantage over attacking infantry formations exposed in the open.7 Eyewitness accounts from the fighting in late summer 1914 describe infantry in loose skirmishing lines exchanging volley fire, coupled with the necessity of immediately digging in to seek protection from harassing artillery.8

The shift to trench warfare was thus technologically mandated, not merely a tactical preference.6 The scale of casualty rates during the initial mobile phase demonstrated that offensive manoeuvre warfare, as traditionally conceived, was unsustainable. The great strategic failure of the German manoeuvre—the Schlieffen Plan—did not invent trench warfare; rather, it merely provided the definitive geographical location where the military necessity for widespread entrenchment was finally acted upon simultaneously by both armies. Once the massive initial armies ground to a halt, the combination of technological lethality and manpower density made the conversion to fixed positional warfare immediate and absolute.

II. The Stabilising Catalyst: The First Battle of the Marne

The decisive event that arrested the German advance and precipitated the immediate stabilisation of the Western Front was the First Battle of the Marne.

A. Location, Date, and Immediate Strategic Context

The pivotal conflict that ended the War of Movement was the First Battle of the Marne, fought from 5–14 September 1914.9 By this date, the massive German right wing had advanced deep into France, approaching the outskirts of Paris.5 The primary engagement took place near the Marne River near Brasles, east of Paris, France.9 The German armies were positioned within approximately 30 miles (48 km) of the French capital.11

The Allied counterattack was launched by the French Army, commanded by General Joseph Joffre, and the British Expeditionary Force (BEF).9 A critical moment arose when French command, notably General Joseph Gallieni, recognized and exploited a widening gap that appeared between the German 1st and 2nd Armies.5 This gap exposed the German flanks to attack, threatening to unravel the entire northern invasion force. The strategic urgency was famously underscored by the rapid deployment of French troops from Paris, including approximately 3,000 men from the Seventh Army transported by requisitioned Parisian taxicabs, reinforcing the Sixth Army on the night of September 7.13

B. The Termination of Mobile Warfare

The First Battle of the Marne concluded as a major Entente victory.9 It successfully forced the Germans to abandon their strategic goals and immediately retreat, thereby preserving French sovereignty and thwarting the German plan for a quick, total victory on the Western Front.10 The German command structure faltered during this crisis; Helmuth von Moltke, deemed to have lost his nerve, was relieved of command on September 14.10

The German retreat concluded north of the Aisne River.13 It was here, upon halting their withdrawal, that the Germans immediately “dug in, constructing trenches” to establish a cohesive defensive line against the pursuing Franco-British forces.13 This defensive action at the Aisne River valley marks the functional beginning of the static front. While the Marne is the strategic turning point that compelled the retreat, the subsequent Battle of the Aisne represents the point where both sides realised they could neither flank nor defeat the opponent in open manoeuvre, cementing the necessity for fixed positional defences.13 The stabilisation, therefore, was not merely a momentary pause but a deliberate strategic shift, guaranteeing a protracted war of attrition.

Table 1: Key Battle Defining the Western Front Stabilisation

Battle NameDate RangePrimary LocationStrategic OutcomeInitiation of Stabilization
First Battle of the Marne5–14 September 1914Marne River near Brasles, east of Paris, FranceEntente victory; German strategic retreatHalted the deep German invasion; forced permanent entrenchment north of the Aisne River 9

III. The Finalisation of the Line: The Race to the Sea

Following the German retreat to the Aisne, the armies attempted to manoeuvre around each other’s flanks in a final desperate attempt to regain mobility. This process, known as the “Race to the Sea,” ultimately extended the trench line to the coast and completed the static nature of the Western Front.

A. The Quest for the Flank and the Northern Anchor

The Race to the Sea (French: Course à la mer) occurred between 17 September and 19 October 1914.15 As the German and Allied forces became fixed along the Aisne, both sides sought to swing their northern armies around the opponent’s exposed flank. This involved a sequence of northward extensions, resulting in indecisive encounter battles across Artois and Flanders.15

The “Race” concluded only when the opposing forces encountered the North Sea, the ultimate geographical barrier.5 The northernmost terminus of the resulting continuous front was established near the Belgian coast at Nieuwpoort.12 This region was held by the remnants of the Belgian Army, which controlled the Yser Front along the Yser River and Ieperlee, maintaining a small sliver of unoccupied West Flanders.5

B. The Crucible of Flanders: Yser and Ypres

The final, bloody clashes that confirmed the line’s stability occurred in Flanders. The extension of the front culminated in the Battle of the Yser (16 October – 2 November) and the First Battle of Ypres (19 October – 22 November 1914).15

The First Battle of Ypres, centred on the ancient city of Ypres (Ieper), saw intense, mutually costly fighting.17 The Germans failed to achieve their objective of capturing the vital coastal areas and ports. By 22 November 1914, the German drive had been permanently halted, resulting in the formation of the Ypres Salient.17 This massive bulge in the Allied line, curving around Ypres itself, was established because German troops secured the strategically crucial higher ground to the east of the city.19 The Ypres Salient, a tactically vulnerable yet strategically essential position, became the site of relentless attrition for the duration of the war.20

The conclusion of the First Battle of Ypres confirmed the permanence of the stalemate. Both sides, realising that no decisive flanking maneuver was possible and faced with the reality of defensive firepower superiority, committed fully to the construction of elaborate trench systems.6 The stabilisation was thus a near-instantaneous military adjustment, enforced by the lethal technology of the era, finalising the 700 km static line.

IV. The Geographical Line of Attrition (Late 1914–1915)

The fixed trench line established by the end of 1914 ran an approximate distance of 440 miles (700 km) 12 (or 400-plus miles 21). It was a meandering, fortified boundary that stretched from the Belgian coast to the Swiss border, and its contours profoundly shaped the ensuing years of the conflict. The line remained remarkably static, shifting no more than 50 miles (80 km) from its position until the German Spring Offensives of March 1918.5

A. Macro-Geography: Dimensions and Economic Context

The trench system was geographically anchored between the North Sea coast at Nieuwpoort in Belgium and the Swiss frontier near the Alsatian village of Pfetterhouse.5 The territory occupied by Germany, contained by this line, was strategically vital to France’s war effort, a fact that mandated the German commitment to its defence.5 This occupied area included:

  • 64 percent of French pig-iron production.
  • 24 percent of its steel manufacturing.
  • 40 percent of the coal industry.5

The economic demarcation created by the line guaranteed that the struggle would be one of attrition, as the Allies could not afford to leave such vital resources in German hands, while the Germans were equally determined to hold these industrial prizes to fuel their own war machine.

B. Sector Breakdown: The Trace of the Line

From north to south, the trench line incorporated key geographical features, cities, and strategic bulges:

1. Coastal Flanders and the Ypres Salient (Belgium)

The line began at the North Sea, where the Belgian Army held the Yser Front near Nieuwpoort.5 Moving south, the line immediately encountered the Ypres Salient near the city of Ypres (Ieper).19 This vulnerable bulge, created by the German success in holding the higher ground to the east, became the responsibility primarily of the British Expeditionary Force (BEF).5

2. Artois and Picardy (Northern France)

South of the Belgian sector, the line entered France, crossing the Artois region and running through Picardy. This section formed the northern shoulder of the most significant westward geographical feature of the entire front. Key areas included the battlefields around Arras and the region of Loos.22

3. The Noyon Salient (Oise-Aisne Region)

The central feature of the Western Front’s geography in late 1914 and 1915 was the Noyon Salient. This was the deep westward bulge in the trench line, named after the French town of Noyon, situated near the maximum penetration point of the German advance close to Compiègne.5 This salient was a direct geographical expression of the failure to execute the final swing of the Schlieffen Plan. The line ran just north of the Aisne River, where the initial post-Marne entrenchment had occurred.12 The existence of the Noyon Salient became the primary determinant of French strategy for 1915, as military leaders focused on attacking its vulnerable northern and southern flanks in an attempt to pinch off the bulge and force a breakthrough.24

4. Champagne, Lorraine, and Alsace (Eastern France)

South of the Noyon Salient, the front line ran eastward through the Champagne region, near the Argonne Forest.24 The French military engaged in the First Battle of Champagne in late 1914 and early 1915, targeting the salient’s southern flank.24

Further south, the line passed near the great fortress city of Verdun 21 and then ran along the old Franco-German borderlands of Lorraine and Alsace.12 This southern sector was characterised by greater stability due to the historical continuity of fortified defences in Eastern France, which included strongholds like Toul and Belfort, designed centuries earlier by Sébastien Le Prestre de Vauban.21 This entrenched southern sector had already been the site of French offensive failures in August 1914 (e.g., the Battle of Lorraine) 26, and it remained relatively static until the final terminus near Pfetterhouse on the Swiss border.12

Table 2: Geographical Trace of the Western Front Trench Line (Late 1914–1915)

Sector (North to South)Country / RegionKey Geographical Features/Cities on the LineStrategic Feature / Salient
Coastal FlandersBelgiumNieuwpoort, Yser RiverNorthern Terminus, Yser Front 5
West FlandersBelgium / FranceYpres (Ieper)Ypres Salient 17
Artois and PicardyFranceArras, Loos, Aisne RiverNorthern Shoulder of the Noyon Salient 5
Oise-Aisne RegionFranceNoyon, CompiègneThe Noyon Salient (Maximum point of German penetration) 5
Champagne and ArgonneFranceReims, Argonne Forest, VerdunSouthern Shoulder of the Salient 24
Lorraine and AlsaceFranceToul, Belfort, Pfetterhouse (near Swiss Border)Southern Terminus 12

V. The Confirmation of Stalemate: Trench Battles of 1915

Despite the establishment of a continuous front line, Allied commanders, particularly General Joffre, refused to accept the finality of the stalemate. They believed that a massive concentrated offensive could still achieve a percée (breakthrough) at weak points, leading to a return to mobile warfare.24 The ensuing battles of 1915, however, served only to confirm, at immense human cost, that the geographical line established in 1914 was unbreakable given the prevailing military technology and defensive engineering.

A. The Persistence of Failed Offensives

The French initiated large-scale offensives aimed at the shoulders of the Noyon Salient. The First Battle of Champagne, fought from 20 December 1914 to 17 March 1915, was directed against the German defensive positions between Reims and the Argonne Forest.24 This engagement cost the French Fourth Army over 93,000 casualties, while the Germans sustained approximately 46,000 losses.25 Despite this massive expenditure of resources and lives, the battle was inconclusive, failing to achieve any strategic rupture of the German defences 24

The British and French launched additional attempts in the Artois region, near the northern shoulder of the salient. British efforts, such as the Battle of Neuve Chapelle and the subsequent operations at Festubert in March and May 1915, demonstrated that even local numerical superiority (often three-to-one in men and artillery) could gain only minimal ground.23 Although defenders often gave ground, they were rarely broken and could usually retake lost positions, resulting in catastrophic losses for the attackers.23

B. German Innovation and Acceptance of the Static Line

The German High Command, having accepted the failure of the Schlieffen Plan and recognising the defensive advantage offered by the 1914 line (especially holding the occupied French industrial heartland) 5, adopted a defensive posture on the Western Front for most of 1915. Their single major offensive was the Second Battle of Ypres (April 22–May 25, 1915).28

This battle marked a horrifying tactical innovation: the first large-scale deployment of chlorine poison gas.29 The initial gas attack opened a four-mile-wide breach in the Allied line, causing French and Algerian troops to abandon their positions due to the shock and effects of the new weapon.28 Although the gas created the breakthrough scenario that Allied commanders had desperately sought throughout 1915, the German command had conceived the attack primarily as a strategic diversion to cover the movement of troops toward the Eastern Front for the Gorlice-Tarnow Offensive.30 Consequently, the Germans had no substantial forces ready to exploit the breach.21

The result was a minor territorial gain that came at the cost of tens of thousands of casualties.21 The failure of the Germans to capitalise on their own tactical success confirms their strategic prioritisation: the Western Front was regarded as a protective shield, designed to minimise manpower usage while the Central Powers sought a decisive victory in the East.31

The conclusive outcome of the 1915 battles was twofold: first, they demonstrated that the fixed geographical line could not be broken by existing offensive means; and second, they accelerated the evolution of entrenchment from simple, rapidly dug positions (which often suffered from flooding and destruction) 23 into elaborate, permanent defensive systems featuring deep dugouts, fortified positions, and complex barbed wire arrays.6 This defensive maturation transformed the conflict into an engineering war, locking the armies further into the geography defined in late 1914. This reality ultimately led to the construction of massive fallback positions, such as the Hindenburg Line, which the Germans built behind the Noyon Salient in 1917 to further rationalize their defensive posture.21

VI. Conclusion

The geographical line that defined the start of trench warfare on the Western Front in 1914 and 1915 was the result of the immediate technological lethality of modern warfare meeting the strategic failure of the German manoeuvre.

The First Battle of the Marne (5–14 September 1914), fought near the Marne River east of Paris, served as the primary catalyst that arrested the deep German invasion and led to the stabilisation of the front. The German retreat was halted and entrenched along the Aisne River.

The subsequent “Race to the Sea” extended this initial entrenchment, culminating in the First Battle of Ypres (19 October – 22 November 1914), which anchored the line at the North Sea coast near Nieuwpoort and established the Ypres Salient in Belgium.

The resulting fixed line, stretching approximately 700 km to the Swiss border near Pfetterhouse, traversed key regions and features: the Yser Front, the Ypres Salient, the Allied-held sectors near Arras, the prominent German-held Noyon Salient (near Compiègne), and the established fortresses of Lorraine and Alsace. This geographical boundary, which enclosed critical French industrial assets, became a fixed feature of the war. The costly and strategically inconclusive trench battles of 1915 served only to confirm the permanence of this fixed geographical line, ensuring that the conflict would be a long, devastating war of technological and human attrition.

“I was minding my own business when…”, a short story

What do you say, when everything that could be had been said, and then some.

What did marriage counselors know, other than they are right, and you are wrong?

I don’t think either of us, with the same belief, could be wrong.  The marriage was over, and there was no use prolonging the agony.

Except we had to try to at least put some of the pieces back together, if only for the sake of walking away with a sense of closure and peace.

But, peace was the last thing in the atmosphere inside the car, and it had been like that since leaving Vancouver.

There had been a momentary truce in Kamloops where we had to stay, in separate rooms, and polite conversation over breakfast, until I put my foot in my mouth.

Again.

I’m not sure if I knew what to say to her anymore.  To her, everything I said was laced with an agenda or a subliminal plot.  I got it, I’d lied to her once too often, and once she proved one right, and, from there, it didn’t take long for the whole charade to unravel.

I’d been advised against marrying her, that I would not be able to do my job and have some sort of life with Eloise, but I wanted it.

And, fifteen months down the track, my employers had been proved right.
Eloise was driving.  Her parents lived in Banff, and we had made the trip in all of the four seasons, and now winter, she was more used to the icy conditions than I.

It gave me a chance to look at her from my side of the mid-sized SUV.  We were going to take her car, a rather small sedan, but it had broken down, so I hired a Ford Flex.

If you’re going to take on the elements, I wanted a car that could handle the conditions.

In that, I think I’d managed to surprise her, and not in a bad way.

For the first time in a long time.

Then, of course, she had to look sideways, and that ruined it.  The frown followed by the pursed lips.  Something caustic was about to come my way.

Except a very loud bang took us both by surprise, and skewing the car sideways, catching the edge of the ice on the road, and we started spinning.

As good as she was, there would be no containing this calamity.

I looked behind to see what the hell had hit us.

An F350 or RAM 2500, definitely larger than us, definitely deliberate, and definitely with intent to hurt us.

Or me.

My work had finally come home.

There was a scream just on the edge of her terror as the car had spun sideways and the car behind us slammed into it us again, arresting the spin and pushing us towards the edge of the road.

I could see what the pursuer’s intent was.  Down the side, a roll if possible, then pick off the survivors as they scrambled from the wreckage.

Or not have to worry, the roll may do the job for them.
We hit the edge as the other car braked, and we continued on, that stifled scream from Eloise now erupting.

She could see what was going to happen, just as our car tipped.

Six seconds.

Seat belt or not, totally unprepared for what was about to happen, she was not going to walk away from this.

Unless I did something about it.

Seatbelt unhitched I dragged her to me and protected her as best I could.  She didn’t resist, but the look in her eyes, terror laced with something else, no time to think about it now, told me she would do whatever I wanted.

Over on the roof, upside down, I prayed it stayed there, and slide,  The ice, snow, and slush was going to help.

Seconds passed, taking what seemed forever, till we reached the bottom of the hill and hit a rock, arresting the movement with a loud bang and a crunch of bending metal.

Stopped.

Engine still running.

No movement from her.  Yet.

And relief.  No bones were broken, or none that I noticed.

Under me, she stirred.

Just as a bullet smashed the rear passenger window, and the shattered glass splattered the interior.  A moment later, the side window, above my head did the same.
I lifted myself, whispering in her ear, “Slide towards the front window.”  It was buried in the snow and dirt kicked up in the final run to the bottom.  The shooter would not be able to see it, or her.

Above me, I reached up to feel under the seat and found the package.

A gun.  Always be prepared.

Ten seconds since the last shot.  From up top, the shooter would not be able to see us, or any movement.  He was going to have to come down and finish the job.

And hope we were would not be able to fight back.

That was the purpose of running us off the road.

Pity then that he had not been given my file.  If he had he would have driven off and tried again later.

That he was halfway down the hill when I saw him told me this operation had been cobbled together quickly, with no time to find a professional.

And now I knew why Barnes had told me to be careful.

A lone wolf looking to make a name for himself.

And failing.
Ten minutes, the police arrived.

Long enough to bury the body and the weapons under a lot of snow, in a ravine that no one would discover until the thaw.

The car that rammed us had gone.  Soon as he saw his partner go down, he left.  A wise man, he had stayed at the top of the hill, having more sense than his friend.

Live to fight another day,

The policeman asked the questions, and Eloise answered.  Not one mention of being rammed, run off the road, being shot at, or that there was anyone else involved.

As cool as a cucumber.

It took her a minute after I shot our attacker to ask the questions I’d expected a week ago when she finally discovered my other life, prefaced by, “No more lies, just tell me the truth.  What the hell is it you do for a living?”

“Make the world safe for people like you, and in my case right now, for you in particular.  Sorry, I was sworn to secrecy.”

“Even from your wife?”

“Especially from you.  You now know why.”

“Bit late for that now, do you think?”

“Just a little.”

And then I saw the look, the one I had fallen in love with 15 months ago.  The one that made my heart miss a few beats.

“You do realize you are the biggest idiot on the planet, don’t you?”

“Does this mean I can stay?”

She punched me on the arm.,  OK, no broken bones, but there was going to be bruising, major bruising.

“If you promise to tell me only the truth from now on.”

What harm could it do?  She knew enough.

“Good.  We should probably do something with that man out there.  I’m assuming the police do not take too kindly to you working in their jurisdiction.”

Too many thrillers, too much TV, or an educated guess, she was right.  This would be impossible to explain, and Barnes was already angry at me.

I held out my hand and she took it as I helped her out of the wreckage.  Out in the fresh, cold air, she took in a huge breath and let out a slow sigh.

“Is it always this exciting?”

“This is the Sunday in the park stroll.  Wait till you have a hand held rocket boring down on you.”

 

© Charles Heath 2019-2020

The 2am Rant: Is there a reason to get out of bed?

I sometimes wonder if there is.

Is that depression speaking, or am I just tired from all the late nights?

Unlike most writers, authors and bloggers I don’t have a day job.  You could say it’s one of the benefits of getting old, this retirement thing, but after a while, not having a reason to get out of bed starts working on your subconscious.

The idea of having a job, and going to work, is a good reason to drag yourself out of bed every morning.  And because of this, the idea of sleeping in takes on a whole new meaning.

You know, I’ll just lie here for a few more minutes, and then I’ll get up.  Having turned off the alarm, the eyelids flutter, and before you know it, half an hour had passed, and you wake up in fright, knowing you’re going to be late.

In retirement, that doesn’t happen.  There is no alarm, there is no guilty pleasure in spending those extra minutes in bed.

Of course, this tardiness, or lack of desire could be because I find I do my best writing in the dead of night, often not getting to bed before 2 a.m.   Last night it was a little later because of a story I’m working on came to life with a new idea.

It had been stagnating because it’s part two and whilst I had an idea about where it was going to go, in the end, we’re off in a different direction, and the words flowed.  You just don’t stop writing when you hit a vein.

But this isn’t always the case.  This morning I have an excuse to stay in bed, but most others I don’t.

Perhaps I should find something else to do, something that will give me that same reason I used to have to get up every morning.

Or maybe I should be more organized in my retirement life, you know, set a schedule and do things according to a timetable.  I was never one for being organized, but perhaps it’s time to start.

Just let me lie here for a few more minutes and think about that.