365 Days of writing, 2026 – My Second Story 7

More about my second novel

John’s search for Zoe was at an impasse because it was her job to disappear and reappear at will, and he knew he was no match for her in that regard.

So, having gone to her residence in Paris, not finding her there, which was predictable, the place looked like it had not been visited in months, he concluded a short stay might help to clear his head.

Until he gets a phone call.

Kidnappers, other than the Russians, have captured Zoe, and they’re ringing him for a ransom.

Odd, because he was not the one who placed the kidnap order on her, so why would they be ringing him?

This was initiated by Zoe, no doubt playing the kidnapper by sending him to a bigger payday.

If that’s the case, then John has to deduce she has faith in him to come and get her.

Which he’s going to do, but not on his own.

It’s time to call Sebastian, someone John knew would know what to do.

Or at least hope he does!

Talk about rescue missions gone wrong.

John is not very good at this, though; who’s to say Sebastian isn’t as good as he thinks he is?

So, tossed in a basement awaiting his fate, who should he discover: Zoe

Mission accomplished.

Of course, no good deed goes unpunished as she tears strips off him for being a fool, firstly, to come after her, and secondly, for trusting Sebastian.

But they’ve been in tighter scrapes before, and the fun is just about to begin.

After a few minutes of catching up!

And, no doubt, Sebastian is somewhere near plotting his own operation to fix up the first operation.

In a word: Can

Yes, another three letter word with a multitude of meanings, like

I can do this, it’s what we tell ourselves when faced with an impossible mission

You might want to carry a can, perhaps of drink, once made out of steel but now from aluminium.  It can also hold food, like baked beans

You might have a jerry can, which holds petrol, mighty handy if you are driving and run out.  It’s happened to me once

There’s the can-can, but that’s a dance

Can you do this, can I have a drink, you can park over there, it seems we can seek or be given permission

It is an informal name for either prison or a toilet, though it depends on where you are

And in the United States, a ‘tin can’ can also be used to describe a navy vessel

If you get canned from your job, it really means you got fired

In the can means the film has been completed

Of course, there is always a trash can which makes both a mess and a loud noise when they tip over, particularly at night

And, which also make a good set of wickets, painted on, when playing backyard cricket with your friends

“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

The cinema of my dreams – I always wanted to see the planets – Episode 12

Well, who are you people?

It was a distraction.

One minute I was looking at three people holding two of the freighter crew hostage, then next I was watching the three disintegrate into a matter stream, and disappear.

It was not possible, and yet I saw it with my own eyes.

I pressed the transmit button on my communicator and said, “What the hell was what?”

“A ship, twice the size of this vessel, came out of nowhere, appeared on screen for about a minute and then disappeared.”

“Along with our friends over here. They just dematerialised. It seems they can transport people whereas we can only transfer matter. On a good day.”

Another voice came over the freighter’s internal communications system, “Cargo supervisor to captain, it seems we have just lost a container of plutonium fuel rods, sir.”

“Did you hear that, sir?” I said.

“Those would be the rods needed on Venus we were sent to pick up. Without them, they’re about to go offline. Get back here now, we now have a humanitarian rescue mission. Out.”

I looked over at Myrtle. “We have to leave, I’ll be along in a minute.”

I walked over to Jacko who was looking far more relieved now he didn’t had a space gun being held to his head. “How did you get to be hauling Plutonium?”

“Only ship available, I guess. Freighters are stretched thin with this new building program on the outer planets. Can you call up head office and tell them we need repairs.”

“No comms?”

“No anything at the moment, except life support, and that’s likely to become a problem if they take their time. You know how it is.”

I did. Repairs never seemed to be a priority, not considering how much a ship cost.

“I’ll get the captain to get space command to put a rocket up them. Any idea who those people were?”

“Not any of us I reckon. I think we’ve just made first contact with a new species. And if they know what they can do with the plutonium, things might get a little interesting out here.”

Interesting indeed.

© Charles Heath 2021

A photograph from the inspirational bin – 31

This is rugged bushland not far from suburbia, though you wouldn’t know exactly where it is just by looking at the photograph

But, for the writer, this is an excellent setting.

For instance, once again we are out wandering in the bush, lost. It’s not hard to get lost, and stay lost if there are no recognizable landmarks, and given we all walk with a bias to one side or the other, and we have to avoid objects like trees, ravines, animals, and rocks, keeping a straight line is impossible.

But the question is, how did you get into the bush in the first place?

It’s not as if you would deliberately go there, just to if you can get lost.

No, my idea is that you have been kidnapped and drugged, then taken to a location either in the book of a car or just in the back seat with a hood, then dropped off and left to die

The criminals in this story are more efficient in getting rid of pesky witnesses.

Or maybe it’s something less sinister, like going out and counting the koalas in the bush, well, what’s left of the bush as the suburban spray takes more and more of the koala’s habitat.

And it could also be like the planet of the apes, the koalas start fighting back.

Stranger things have been known to happen.

The cinema of my dreams – Was it just another surveillance job – Episode 50

I’m back home and this story has been sitting on the back burner for a few months, waiting for some more to be written.

The trouble is, there are also other stories to write, and I’m not very good at prioritizing.

But, here we are, a few minutes opened up and it didn’t take long to get back into the groove.

Chasing leads, maybe


Just because you have a security card with your name on it doesn’t mean you are cleared.  Yesterday, maybe, but today?  Anything can happen in 24 hours, much like the political landscape.

When I walked in the front entrance and up to the scanning gate, I was just another employee coming into work.  I ran my card through the scanning device, and the light turned red.

It failed.

In the time it took for me to scan it a second time, a security guard had arrived from the front desk, and a soldier, armed and ready was standing behind me.

I didn’t doubt for one minute he would shoot me if I tried to run.

“What seems to be the problem?”  The security guard was polite but firm.

“My card that scanned the last time and worked, doesn’t seem to work now.”

I could read his expression, ‘you just got fired, and are trying to get back in.”

“Let me try.”

I gave him the card, he looked at it, no doubt to see if there was any damage, then tried it.”

“Have you any other means of identification?”

Now, here’s the thing.  This was the office full of spies and support staff all of whom could be using assumed names, different guises, or just plain secretive with their private information.  Luckily I had a driver’s license with the name on the card, but not much else.

I thought about telling him about the place he was guarding, but I doubted he would listen.

He looked at both, then handed back the license. 

“Come with me over to the counter and we’ll see if we can sort this out.”

It was not a request, nor was I unaccompanied.  I now had a soldier permanently attached to me.

When we all arrived at the desk, he joined another guard behind.

“Who is your immediate superior?”

It was a toss-up between Dobbin and Monica.  Since Dobbin spent a lot of time in his car or appeared to, I said it was Monica.

I watched him search slowly through the phone list until he found her number, then called her.

He had his back to me when they spoke, but it wasn’t for long; after a minute, perhaps two, he replaced the receiver and turned back.

“Ms. Shrive will be down in about five minutes.”  He pointed to a row of chairs against the wall, remnants from the last world war.  “If you would like to wait over there, sir.”

He didn’t hand back my card.

The wait was more like a half-hour, but I had become engrossed in an old copy of Country Life, and an article that made me consider retiring to the country in an old thatch cottage beside a babbling brook somewhere in the Cotswolds.

Until I read the price. 

The arrival of Monica came at a fortuitous moment.  Coming to the desk.

“Nnn, I was hoping you would drop by sooner rather than later.”

“My card doesn’t work.”

“Oh, that’s because we revoked it.”  She held out another in her hand.  “We’ve replaced it with one with better access, or as we say jokingly, you’ve moved up in the pay grade scale.”

I took the card and went to put it in my pocket.

“You need to register your presence, so I’m afraid you’ll have to go out and come back in again.”

I did as she asked, this time greeted by the friendly green light.  The soldier seemed disappointed that I was not free of his attention.  The security guard on the desk had alt=ready forgotten I existed.

“Come.”

I followed Monica to the antiquated elevator, we stepped in, closed the door and she pressed a button for the third and fourth floors.  It seemed creakier than usual this time.

“I’m assuming you have come in to use the computer resources?”

“Yes.”

“Good thing then we upgraded your access level.”

“And is there someone who manages access to CCTV footage?”

“Yes.  Same floor, four.  Her name is Amelia Enders.  Tell her what you need, and she’ll find it.  I assume it will have something to do with the surveillance exercise of yours.”

How could she guess, or had she been already investigating?”

“Come and see me when you’re finished.  I live on the third floor.  Literally.”

The elevator stopped on the third floor with a creak and a thump.

A smile and she headed off down the passage.

If I wasn’t mistaken, she had that cat who ate the canary look, and it worried me.

© Charles Heath 2020-2022

365 Days of writing, 2026 – 44

Day 44 – Logical and illogical

The Art of the Un‑Expected: How to Keep Logic in Play While Giving Your Story a Believable Twist


1. Why “Logical” Storytelling Still Rules the Roost

When readers sit down with a book, a screenplay, or even a short blog post, the first thing they look for is coherence.

  • Cause‑and‑effect: “If X happens, then Y should follow.”
  • Internal consistency: The world you’ve built follows its own rules, no matter how fantastical they are.
  • Predictable stakes: The protagonist’s goals, obstacles, and motivations are clear.

A story that respects these principles feels safe. It’s the literary equivalent of a well‑built bridge—you trust it won’t collapse under you.

But trust can become complacency. After a while, readers start anticipating the next move: “Oh, here comes the climax!” or “We’re about to get the happy ending.” That’s where the magic of a twist comes in.


2. The Twist: A Controlled Violation of Expectation

A twist isn’t just a surprise; it’s a deliberate breach of the logical path you’ve laid out—but it must still feel like it could have happened. Think of it as a creative detour on a well‑paved road:

ElementStandard LogicTwist Version
SetupHero discovers a map to treasure.Hero discovers a map, but the “X” marks the spot of a forgotten laboratory.
ExpectationTreasure = gold, jewels, riches.Treasure = a dormant AI that can rewrite reality.
OutcomeWealth changes the hero’s life.The AI offers a choice: wealth or a chance to rewrite a past mistake.

The key is that the twist answers a question the story has already asked—it doesn’t introduce an unrelated, out‑of‑the‑blue element. It’s still a logical extension; it’s just a branch you didn’t see coming.


3. How to Build a Twist That Feels Believable

A. Plant Foreshadowing Nuggets Early

Even the most shocking twist works when the reader can, in hindsight, point to tiny clues that hinted at it.

  • Example: In a thriller, a character’s recurring habit of checking the kitchen clock could later reveal that the “mysterious ticking” was actually a timer for a bomb.

Tip: Use one‑sentence hints, a visual motif, or a subtle dialogue line. Don’t over‑explain; just give the attentive reader something to latch onto later.

B. Keep Motivation Consistent

If a character suddenly does something wildly out of character, the twist collapses.

  • Do: Show a lingering doubt or secret desire earlier in the narrative.
  • Don’t: Have the hero snap into villainy without any prior strain.

C. Leverage World‑Building Rules

Your story’s internal logic should already contain the possibility for the twist.

  • Science‑fiction: If you’ve established that quantum entanglement can be harnessed for communication, a twist where a message arrives from an alternate timeline feels plausible.
  • Fantasy: If magic has a cost (e.g., it ages the caster), a twist where a character trades years of life for a single wish fits the rulebook.

D. Use Contrast, Not Contradiction

A twist should amplify tension, not erase it. Contrast the expected outcome with the unexpected one, but never outright contradict the premises you’ve set.

  • Good: “She thought the interview was over, but the hiring manager handed her a secret dossier—her next mission.”
  • Bad: “She was interviewing for a coffee shop job, and suddenly she’s a secret agent—no previous hints about espionage.”

E. Test the Twist with Beta Readers

Ask a few trusted readers to outline the story after the first draft. If they can’t predict the twist but still feel it makes sense once revealed, you’ve hit the sweet spot.


4. Common Pitfalls & How to Avoid Them

PitfallWhy It FailsFix
“Twist for the sake of twist”Feels gimmicky; undermines credibility.Make every twist serve the character arc or theme.
Insufficient ForeshadowingThe twist feels like deus ex machina.Insert at least two subtle clues early on.
Breaking Core World RulesReaders lose trust; suspension of disbelief shatters.Add the twist within the established rule set, even if it stretches the limits.
Over‑Explaining the RevealDiminishes the “aha!” moment.Show the consequences; let readers piece together the logic themselves.
Twist That Undermines Protagonist AgencyThe hero becomes a puppet of the plot.Ensure the twist still leaves the protagonist making a meaningful choice.

5. A Mini‑Exercise to Warm Up Your Twist Muscles

  1. Write a 200‑word scene that ends with a clear, logical expectation (e.g., “The detective opens the safe, expecting cash.”).
  2. Identify three objects, lines of dialogue, or environmental details you can repurpose as foreshadowing.
  3. Rewrite the ending so the expectation is subverted, but each foreshadowing element now makes sense in hindsight.
  4. Read it aloud—does the twist feel like a natural, albeit surprising, outcome?

Do this exercise a few times with different genres. You’ll start to see how “logic‑bending” is really just logic‑re‑routing.


6. Closing Thoughts: The Balance Between Predictability and Awe

Stories are maps. The logic you lay down is the road that guides readers. The twist is the scenic overlook—they pause, gasp, and see the world from a fresh angle before continuing their journey.

When you strip away a little of the expected logic—but do it with intention, foreshadowing, and respect for your world—you give readers a thrilling, believable surprise that feels earned, not forced.

So the next time you sit down to write, ask yourself:

“What does my reader think is coming next? How can I honour that expectation while still taking them somewhere they didn’t see coming?”

If the answer is a twist that feels like a natural branch on the path you’ve built, you’ve just turned a good story into a great one.

Happy writing—and may your twists always be both unexpected and inevitable.


If you found this post helpful, subscribe for more storytelling tactics, and feel free to share your own twist‑building experiences in the comments below!

If I only had one day to stop over in – Sofia – what would I do?

One‑Day Stopover in Sofia? Make It Unforgettable with a Visit to Alexander Nevsky Cathedral

If you’ve only got 24 hours in Bulgaria’s capital, there’s one landmark that will give you a perfect snapshot of Sofia’s history, culture, and soul: the Alexander Nevsky Cathedral.

In this post I’ll walk you through why this soaring Orthodox masterpiece deserves the top spot on your itinerary, how to get there from the airport, what to see inside, where to grab a quick bite, and a few insider tips to make the most of a single day in Sofia.


Why the Cathedral Beats All Other Options

AspectWhat the Cathedral OffersComparison
Iconic StatusSofia’s most photographed building; appears on postcards, travel guides, and the city’s coat of arms.No other sight rivals its recognizability.
Architectural DramaA blend of Russian Revival and Byzantine motifs, crowned by a golden dome that dominates the skyline.Other sites (Vitosha Boulevard, Boyana Church) are beautiful but less instantly “Sofia‑defining.”
Cultural InsightHouses relics, mosaics, and a crypt that tells the story of Bulgaria’s post‑Ottoman revival.Museums require more time; the cathedral packs history into a single visit.
Convenient LocationNestled in the heart of the city, within walking distance of restaurants, parks, and public transport.Remote sites (Vitosha Mountain) need extra travel time you simply don’t have.
Free AdmissionNo ticket line, no booking required – perfect for a tight schedule.Many other attractions charge entry or have long queues.

In short, Alexander Nevsky Cathedral is the single most efficient way to soak up Sofia’s character when the clock is ticking.


Getting There: From Sofia Airport to the Cathedral in 15 Minutes

  1. Exit the arrivals hall and follow signs for the Sofia Metro (Line 1 – “Red” line). The metro station is a short 3‑minute walk, located under the terminal.
  2. Buy a single‑journey ticket (≈ 1.60 BGN, about €0.80) from the vending machines – cash or contactless works.
  3. Board the train toward “Mladost 1” and alight after three stops at “Serdika” (≈ 5 minutes travel).
  4. Follow the signs to the “Sofia Central Railway Station” exit. You’ll emerge onto a bustling pedestrian zone.
  5. Walk north along “Knyaz Mihail Obrinski” street (≈ 5 minutes). The cathedral’s golden domes will dominate the skyline as you approach “Nevski Sq.”

Total door‑to‑door time: ~15 minutes, leaving you with over 10 hours to explore.


Inside the Cathedral: A Mini‑Guide for the Time‑Pressed Traveler

FeatureWhat to Look ForHow Much Time?
The ExteriorThe massive gold-plated cross, the 12 onion domes, and the intricately detailed façade.5 minutes (photos).
The Interior NaveA forest of 40,000+ marble columns, a massive iconostasis, and the iconic fresco of the St. Alexander Nevsky mural.7 minutes (scan).
The CryptResting place of Bulgarian royalty and notable clergy; a quiet spot to reflect on the nation’s post‑Ottoman resurgence.5 minutes (optional).
The Golden MosaicThe “Christ Pantocrator” in the central dome glistens with gold leaf; a masterpiece of Orthodox art.3 minutes (look up).
The Gift ShopHand‑crafted icons, amber jewelry, and traditional Bulgarian rosaries.2 minutes (if you like souvenirs).

Tip: If you arrive between 9:00 – 11:00 am, you’ll avoid the mid‑day tourist rush and can enjoy a quieter atmosphere for photos.


Grab a Bite Nearby: The “Moma” Café Experience

Just a two‑minute walk from the cathedral’s side entrance sits Moma Café, a stylish spot beloved by locals for its blend of Bulgarian flavours and Mediterranean flair.

  • Signature Dish: Banitsa (phyllo pastry filled with feta and spinach) – a perfect quick‑eat that fuels your next adventure.
  • Coffee: Try the “Sofia Sunrise” – a cold brew infused with rosehip and a dash of honey, a nod to the city’s rose‑oil heritage.
  • Price Range: 5–12 BGN per item (≈ €2.50–€6).

If you’re on a tighter budget, the street‑side kebap shops on “Vitosha Blvd.” offer a savoury kebapche for under 3 BGN.


Making the Most of Your One‑Day Stopover

Time SlotActivity
08:00‑09:30Arrive at Sofia Airport, take the metro to the city center.
09:30‑10:45Explore Alexander Nevsky Cathedral (photo session + brief interior tour).
10:45‑11:30Coffee and Banitsa at Moma Café.
11:30‑13:30Stroll through City Garden and National Art Gallery (both adjacent).
13:30‑15:00Lunch at Made in Home (farm‑to‑table Bulgarian dishes).
15:00‑17:00Walk the historic Vitosha Boulevard, shop for souvenirs.
17:00‑18:00Return to the airport via metro (allow extra time for security).

Feel free to swap the afternoon activities for a quick trip to the Boyana Church (UNESCO site) if you’re a history buff – just remember you’ll need ~45 minutes of travel each way.


Insider Hacks: Avoid the Common Pitfalls

  1. Dress Respectfully – While the cathedral is a tourist hotspot, it’s still a place of worship. Cover shoulders and knees (a light scarf works for women).
  2. Mind the Bells – The massive bells toll every hour; a gentle hush is appreciated during the chime.
  3. Free Wi‑Fi – The cathedral’s lobby offers complimentary Wi‑Fi; perfect for uploading those panoramic shots on the go.
  4. Currency – Bulgaria uses the Lev (BGN). Most cafés accept cards, but carry a few coins for street vendors.
  5. Time Zone – Sofia is UTC+2 (UTC+3 in summer). Double‑check your connecting flight departure time.

Bottom Line: One Site, One Day, One Memorable Experience

When you have just a single day to taste Sofia, you need a destination that encapsulates the city’s spirit without demanding a full‑day commitment. Alexander Nevsky Cathedral does exactly that: it offers a breathtaking visual punch, a concise history lesson, and a convenient central location that lets you weave in a few extra highlights without breaking the clock.

So next time your itinerary shows a brief stop in Bulgaria’s capital, skip the indecision and head straight for the golden domes. In 15 minutes you’ll be inside a living monument; in an hour you’ll have a collection of photos worthy of any travel album; and in a day you’ll leave Sofia with a vivid memory of its heart, soul, and unmistakable skyline.

Happy travels—and may your layover be as golden as the Nevsky domes!

What I learned about writing – Originality

Can you write a completely original fiction story? Some would say they could, but every time you pick up a book, can you say that you have not seen parts of it before, in one form or another?

It is said that there are only seven basic plots that are used over and over again.

Others will say there are three, six, or thirty-six. No one can seem to agree on a number, but they all believe there is just a small number of master plots from which every story is written.

  1. Overcoming the Monster
  2. Rags to Riches
  3. The Quest
  4. Voyage and Return
  5. Rebirth
  6. Comedy
  7. Tragedy

This is from The Seven Basic Plots: Why We Tell Stories by Christopher Booker.

There are endless variations, some end happily, others sadly, and what is left in tragedy.

I like to have happy endings and am not a fan of sad endings; there’s enough of those on TV, and I think the last thing we want before we go to bed is to see a show that reflects daily life. I like to see the good guys win every now and then just to restore my faith in human nature.

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