R is for – Release

…

I woke up that morning believing it would be the first day of the rest of my life.

I stretched and luxuriated in the comfort and warmth of the bed, after a dozen years of suffering a very hard, uncomfortable, cold cot, if it could be called that.

Prison life had been harsh. Being unjustly imprisoned had been harsher, and the years of battling to have the evidence that finally exonerated me finally paid off.

Release.

Perhaps it was not a coincidence that the day I stepped out of the prison was the day the snow started, the first of the season, bringing with it the winter chill. I would not have survived another winter in that place.

Perhaps it was also not a coincidence that the ex-girlfriend of the man I had supposedly murdered in a jealous rage arrived on my doorstep the same day I was released. It was her evidence, circumstantial at best, but convincingly relayed in the courtroom, a performance even the newspapers said was worthy of an Academy Award.

She still firmly believed I was guilty, evidence or not, and that I would be damned to hell.

That might be true, but not from the so-called murder of her ex-boyfriend, but the deeds I had to do to survive in what could only be described as hell on earth. I tried to tell her that I’d paid my dues, as unjust as they were, and that was the end of it. She had got her pound of flesh.

The parents of the ex-boyfriend were not as unforgiving and wished me well. They had never believed that I was guilty, no surprises because their son and I had been the best of friends from a very early age, when they moved into the house next door.

Those years were gone, as was the house, and everything else. It had been burned to the ground by a bunch of vigilantes riled up by Samantha, who marched on the house just before my arrest. Nobody was blamed for the deaths of my parents, caught in the fire, but the judge did admonish Samantha in a monologue that all but handed the blame to her. It was, he said, going to be a battle for her conscience.

Now I had nothing.

My lawyer said it was a clean slate, and to put what I needed into a backpack, and get on the first train out of town. There was nothing for me, no reason to stay.

The very thought in my mind when I woke and looked out at the sea of white, and the steady downfall of snow drifting down from the sky. The forecast was snow for a day or so, then clearing. It would halt the trains, so I would be here for at least another day.

Enough time for Samantha to round up another mob and come burn down the hotel.

That was reason enough not to get out of bed.

Except…

The phone beside the bed rang, one that had a shrill insistence about it.

I slipped out from under the covers, shivered slightly in the cool morning air, then picked up the receiver.

“Yes?”

“There’s a Miss Whales here to see you.”

Miss Whales. It was a name that lurked on the fringe of my memory, in the life before prison section, and was not quite coming to me.

“Did she state her business?” I assumed it was a reporter here to get my story, one that they were hoping, no doubt, I would be suing the state for false imprisonment.

“No, but she is insistent she sees you.”

“OK. I’ll be down in fifteen minutes.”

…

During the time it took to throw on some warm clothes, I ran the name through my recollection of people I’d met, and her name didn’t come up. I expect she was a reporter, or perhaps a junior from a law practice looking to get me to hire them for the law case against the state.

I took the stairs; it was only two floors worth, and I needed to warm up. For some reason, the passageways and then the foyer felt cold. The front desk clerk saw me step off the last stair and nodded over towards the fireplace, where some large logs were burning.

Sitting on one of the chairs was a woman, about my age, who looked like someone’s mother. I had no doubt she would appear to be disarming and polite, but then strike like a cobra. It was how I came to view both Lawyers and reporters.

She had seen me coming from the stairs and stood as I approached.

“Mr Peverell?”

“You could hardly mistake me for anyone else.” Maybe not the first words I would have said, but I was still tired and steeling myself for a pitch.

I saw her mentally brush aside my attitude and smile. “How are you this morning, not that the weather is being polite.” I saw her glance outside through the large panoramic windows. The carpark was slowly disappearing.

“Not the sort of day to be out on a whim,” I said. I still couldn’t place her.

“No, indeed. Please,” she motioned to a chair by the fire, two together.

I sat. She sat, then arranged the layers. It had to be quite warm with the coat she was wearing. She had removed the fake fur hat. It actually looked good on her.

“What is so pressing that you had to see me?”

“I need your help.”

“How could I possibly help you or anyone with anything. You do realise I have just spent twelve years locked away from the real world. I’m lucky to remember my name, let alone anything else.”

Yes, the warden and his officers had tried very hard to take everything from all the other prisoners, some of whom would never get out of that prison.

“Of course. But let me introduce myself. My name is Bettina Whales. I’m a private investigator, and I have been commissioned to find out who murdered David Lloyd-Smythe.”

Odd, but then, it just occurred to me that now I was exonerated, the real killer was still out there. It had been on my mind briefly the day before, but I decided I was over it. The murder had robbed me of 12 years of my life. Enough was enough.

But there was an element of curiosity. “By whom?”

“Your wife, of course.”

I shook my head. She had dumped me so fast once I was arrested, it made my head spin. Of course, her parents had probably kidnapped her and kept her prisoner from the day I was arrested until yesterday, but I thought if there was a way she could just tell me why she had abandoned me, it might have been tolerable, but she didn’t.

I had decided long ago that she was gone, and I would never see her again.

I shook my head. “I don’t believe you. You are here for some other reason; one I’m not going to like.”

She smiled. “She said you’d say that. And I’ll admit when she explained why you would, I had to say I agreed with you. But she can tell you herself. She’s right over there, coming in the door.”

I stood, faced her, and watched mesmerised. Twelve years had not aged her, not like they had me, and she still had that ability to take my breath away. And she still could command a room simply by walking through it. All eyes, and particularly the men, were on her.

Then she was in front of me. That loose way of standing, the smile, the disarming manner.

“You thought I had forgotten you?”

“I didn’t know what to think, other than a part of me had died.”

“And I am sorry about that, but you know my parents. I had to disappear, lest shame be brought upon the family. Been in Europe, in a castle no less. It took me an age to find the people running your case to get you out, and then I had to surreptitiously hire an army of lawyers. The lady behind is the one who found the evidence that got you off. She’s the best of the best. Now we’re going after the person who put you there, the real killer.”

Just like in the old days, the take-charge girl, even if you didn’t want to do anything. She, like her father, had no ‘off’ button.

“And if I don’t want to?”

“Don’t be silly, Pev.” She looked at the private investigator. “Get yourself a room if you haven’t already. Pev and I had things to talk about.” She looked back at me. “I can see you threw something on, so we can go back to your room and talk. Or whatever.” She took my hand. “We have twelve years to catch up. Then we’re going to hunt down the bastard that took you away from me. Miss me?”

I gave her hand a squeeze. “I did.”

She smiled. “Good. I hope you have a good room.”

…

©  Charles Heath  2025-2026

R is for – Release

…

I woke up that morning believing it would be the first day of the rest of my life.

I stretched and luxuriated in the comfort and warmth of the bed, after a dozen years of suffering a very hard, uncomfortable, cold cot, if it could be called that.

Prison life had been harsh. Being unjustly imprisoned had been harsher, and the years of battling to have the evidence that finally exonerated me finally paid off.

Release.

Perhaps it was not a coincidence that the day I stepped out of the prison was the day the snow started, the first of the season, bringing with it the winter chill. I would not have survived another winter in that place.

Perhaps it was also not a coincidence that the ex-girlfriend of the man I had supposedly murdered in a jealous rage arrived on my doorstep the same day I was released. It was her evidence, circumstantial at best, but convincingly relayed in the courtroom, a performance even the newspapers said was worthy of an Academy Award.

She still firmly believed I was guilty, evidence or not, and that I would be damned to hell.

That might be true, but not from the so-called murder of her ex-boyfriend, but the deeds I had to do to survive in what could only be described as hell on earth. I tried to tell her that I’d paid my dues, as unjust as they were, and that was the end of it. She had got her pound of flesh.

The parents of the ex-boyfriend were not as unforgiving and wished me well. They had never believed that I was guilty, no surprises because their son and I had been the best of friends from a very early age, when they moved into the house next door.

Those years were gone, as was the house, and everything else. It had been burned to the ground by a bunch of vigilantes riled up by Samantha, who marched on the house just before my arrest. Nobody was blamed for the deaths of my parents, caught in the fire, but the judge did admonish Samantha in a monologue that all but handed the blame to her. It was, he said, going to be a battle for her conscience.

Now I had nothing.

My lawyer said it was a clean slate, and to put what I needed into a backpack, and get on the first train out of town. There was nothing for me, no reason to stay.

The very thought in my mind when I woke and looked out at the sea of white, and the steady downfall of snow drifting down from the sky. The forecast was snow for a day or so, then clearing. It would halt the trains, so I would be here for at least another day.

Enough time for Samantha to round up another mob and come burn down the hotel.

That was reason enough not to get out of bed.

Except…

The phone beside the bed rang, one that had a shrill insistence about it.

I slipped out from under the covers, shivered slightly in the cool morning air, then picked up the receiver.

“Yes?”

“There’s a Miss Whales here to see you.”

Miss Whales. It was a name that lurked on the fringe of my memory, in the life before prison section, and was not quite coming to me.

“Did she state her business?” I assumed it was a reporter here to get my story, one that they were hoping, no doubt, I would be suing the state for false imprisonment.

“No, but she is insistent she sees you.”

“OK. I’ll be down in fifteen minutes.”

…

During the time it took to throw on some warm clothes, I ran the name through my recollection of people I’d met, and her name didn’t come up. I expect she was a reporter, or perhaps a junior from a law practice looking to get me to hire them for the law case against the state.

I took the stairs; it was only two floors worth, and I needed to warm up. For some reason, the passageways and then the foyer felt cold. The front desk clerk saw me step off the last stair and nodded over towards the fireplace, where some large logs were burning.

Sitting on one of the chairs was a woman, about my age, who looked like someone’s mother. I had no doubt she would appear to be disarming and polite, but then strike like a cobra. It was how I came to view both Lawyers and reporters.

She had seen me coming from the stairs and stood as I approached.

“Mr Peverell?”

“You could hardly mistake me for anyone else.” Maybe not the first words I would have said, but I was still tired and steeling myself for a pitch.

I saw her mentally brush aside my attitude and smile. “How are you this morning, not that the weather is being polite.” I saw her glance outside through the large panoramic windows. The carpark was slowly disappearing.

“Not the sort of day to be out on a whim,” I said. I still couldn’t place her.

“No, indeed. Please,” she motioned to a chair by the fire, two together.

I sat. She sat, then arranged the layers. It had to be quite warm with the coat she was wearing. She had removed the fake fur hat. It actually looked good on her.

“What is so pressing that you had to see me?”

“I need your help.”

“How could I possibly help you or anyone with anything. You do realise I have just spent twelve years locked away from the real world. I’m lucky to remember my name, let alone anything else.”

Yes, the warden and his officers had tried very hard to take everything from all the other prisoners, some of whom would never get out of that prison.

“Of course. But let me introduce myself. My name is Bettina Whales. I’m a private investigator, and I have been commissioned to find out who murdered David Lloyd-Smythe.”

Odd, but then, it just occurred to me that now I was exonerated, the real killer was still out there. It had been on my mind briefly the day before, but I decided I was over it. The murder had robbed me of 12 years of my life. Enough was enough.

But there was an element of curiosity. “By whom?”

“Your wife, of course.”

I shook my head. She had dumped me so fast once I was arrested, it made my head spin. Of course, her parents had probably kidnapped her and kept her prisoner from the day I was arrested until yesterday, but I thought if there was a way she could just tell me why she had abandoned me, it might have been tolerable, but she didn’t.

I had decided long ago that she was gone, and I would never see her again.

I shook my head. “I don’t believe you. You are here for some other reason; one I’m not going to like.”

She smiled. “She said you’d say that. And I’ll admit when she explained why you would, I had to say I agreed with you. But she can tell you herself. She’s right over there, coming in the door.”

I stood, faced her, and watched mesmerised. Twelve years had not aged her, not like they had me, and she still had that ability to take my breath away. And she still could command a room simply by walking through it. All eyes, and particularly the men, were on her.

Then she was in front of me. That loose way of standing, the smile, the disarming manner.

“You thought I had forgotten you?”

“I didn’t know what to think, other than a part of me had died.”

“And I am sorry about that, but you know my parents. I had to disappear, lest shame be brought upon the family. Been in Europe, in a castle no less. It took me an age to find the people running your case to get you out, and then I had to surreptitiously hire an army of lawyers. The lady behind is the one who found the evidence that got you off. She’s the best of the best. Now we’re going after the person who put you there, the real killer.”

Just like in the old days, the take-charge girl, even if you didn’t want to do anything. She, like her father, had no ‘off’ button.

“And if I don’t want to?”

“Don’t be silly, Pev.” She looked at the private investigator. “Get yourself a room if you haven’t already. Pev and I had things to talk about.” She looked back at me. “I can see you threw something on, so we can go back to your room and talk. Or whatever.” She took my hand. “We have twelve years to catch up. Then we’re going to hunt down the bastard that took you away from me. Miss me?”

I gave her hand a squeeze. “I did.”

She smiled. “Good. I hope you have a good room.”

…

©  Charles Heath  2025-2026

Q is for – Quid Pro Quo

…

Perhaps if I’d thought about it long enough, I might have seen it coming, but it was taking that light at the end of the tunnel as a good thing, not the double-headed train pounding towards me at breakneck speed while I was tied to the tracks.

It would be easy to blame my mother.  She was the one who taught us to take everyone at face value, to see the good in the world, and, of course, eight times out of ten, everything was fine.

Until it wasn’t.

I was on the balcony overlooking the bay, the house that my grandfather had first built as a getaway shack, expanded into a holiday home, and then into my retreat, the place I could hide away from the world.

It was the same for my sister, who was still recovering from a bad relationship, one that she blamed herself for, but the truth was, she was not at fault, not for any of it.

But the scars ran deep, deep enough that in the pit of despair, she did the unforgivable, and it was a sixth sense that sent me to her in her time of need.

Now, she was well on the road to recovery, older and very much wiser.

For both of us.

…

“Did you see the report Jenkins sent?”

She was stretched out on the deckchair, taking in the sunshine that came with early spring.  It was warm but not hot, a gentle breeze rustling through the surrounding trees.

There were white caps out to sea, and there was a ship slowly plying its way past the bay.  It was a busy shipping lane, and it was the perfect distraction to watch the ships go by.

“I did.”

Jenkins was the company’s head of security, and I had asked him to investigate the man who had deceived and nearly destroyed my twin sister.  In an attempt to get justice, he had gotten off on a technicality and walked free.

It wasn’t justice, but justice sometimes could be blinded.

“Did you have any idea?”

I had to say I didn’t.  Who would when the woman of your dreams, a woman who ticked all of the boxes, comes into your life when you least expect it.

At first, I believed it was too good to be true.  Jenkins checked her out, and everything was irreproachable.  It was not that I was the one who didn’t trust her. It was the people around me.

Once the investigation was over, I decided it was time.  We had been dating off and on for over a year, and it had been a slow burn.

Then Alisha discovered just who and what her boyfriend was, just in time to prevent a travesty.  She was worth a small fortune, and Jackson Pearce had very nearly stolen it all.

He only made one mistake.  He told, no, bragged, that he was about to take down the Bernadines, one of the wealthier and blue-ribbon families.

He very neatly got away with it.  He was free, but he was penniless, and oddly not concerned or angry.

I asked Jenkins to find out why.

It was in the report sitting on the coffee table beside Alisha’s deckchair.

About the woman I was about to marry in the wedding of the year, after letting her take control of the preparations and ceremony and spending close to three million dollars.

A lot of that money was channelled back to her brother Jackson Pearce.  Her real name was Milly Pearce.  She’d stuck to the Milly but was using her father’s mother’s birth surname, making it difficult to trace in a first scan of a family tree.

Or lack of one, which matched her assertion, she was an orphan, from an orphanage that no longer existed, and all records of her had been destroyed in a fire.

Only Jenkins thought it was suspicious, but we were all prepared to give her the benefit of the doubt.

“No. She is such a lovely person.”

“So was Jack, until…”  It was still painful for her, but not so much that it hurt that much.  “What are you going to do?”

“Play.  Do you think you’re strong enough to join me?”

“Can I shoot her?”

I gave her a curious expression.  As much as I understood how she felt about that family, it was not worth the jail sentence.

“No.”

“Spoil sport.”

She sighed.  I took her attitude and the determination in her voice as good signs that she was all but over her calamity.

Up to the unmasking of Jack, she had been almost like a sister to Milly.  I had thought it was the sort of bonding one would expect between the women.  Milly had been suitably disparaging towards the dastardly boyfriend, but whatever had been between them had been broken.

Knowing what she did now, it was difficult to imagine how she could be nice to her.

But it would be settled the next day.  I had promised to take Milly to a special lunch with just our family, my mother, who was kept oblivious of the details of Alisha’s breakup and subsequent events, my older brother, Wally, who was the current CEO of the company, the one I would eventually take over, and myself, basically to talk about where she would fit into the echelons.

We had talked about it, and she had suggested a role suited to her standing.  She had also considered that she was part of the family and, therefore, entitled to a parcel of shares. That alone should have set off alarm bells, but since Mother and Wally had suggested it, who was I to disagree?

“Are you going to tell Mother and Walter?”

It was like she was reading my mind.

“No.  Let’s play her game out and see where it goes.”

“Are you prepared for it?”

I don’t think I would ever be.  I had been hesitant to make our budding romance public, and on the eight-month anniversary, we had been ambushed by the media.  She swore she had not told anyone, but she and I were the only two who knew.

It was the catalyst needed to push us to the next level.  Even then, I was not suspicious, accepting her explanation.  It was not impossible that I was being followed by a photographer looking for a scoop.

“What would be the upside for her?”

“Without sounding catty, Henry, if she is cut from the same cloth as her brother, there’s always a reason.”

“Fair enough.  We shall see.”

I rose early and took my time getting ready.  There were a few calls I had to make, one a long chat with Legal, with the only lawyer I could trust, a chap I went to university with, and funded his start in the legal world.

Disillusioned with run-of-the-mill legalities, he took a break, married his childhood sweetheart, and asked if I could find something for him.

I asked the head of Legal to appoint him as my personal lawyer, and he did.  Sworn to secrecy, he was the fourth person who knew about Milly’s perfidy.  Surprisingly, he was not surprised.

I was having a coffee after considering a stiff Scotch.  Perhaps later, when I get back.

Alisha came out, looking like her old self and looking stunning.  She had toyed with the idea of being a model but decided against it after working on a shoot as an assistant.

“How do I look?”

“Like an angel.”

“Then she will not see me coming.  All sweetness and light, Henry.  I’ve been out of the loop, so I can play dumb but not too dumb.  I’ll make her work to restart our friendship.”

“Promise me the secret is safe.”

She smiled.  “You have my word.  I would not want to miss this for the world.”

“Good.  Now I must make the call.  Phase one is about to begin.”  I picked up the phone and made the call.

I put it on speaker.

“Darling, is everything alright?”

Her usual, what I called adorable, tone.  Today, it didn’t give me shivers.

“Just a little hiccup.  I’m running late, so Wally will be collecting you.  I should be there on time, or a few minutes later.  Try not to miss me too much.”

“Will you be staying tonight?”

I took a deep breath.  I had been planning to, but things had changed.  I didn’t think I could keep up the pretence at close quarters for as long as all night.

“We talked about this.  The wedding is in two days.  I think the few days’ absence will make our hearts grow fonder.  Besides, I must complete all the legal formalities of setting you up as a family member.  You’re about to become a very well-situated wife.”

I could hear her considering what that all meant.  Wealth, power, everything her brother had tried to take.  I wondered what her plan was.

She sighed.  “Lunch will have to suffice, I guess.  See you soon.”

Alisha looked at the phone and then at me.  “That was a bit abrupt.”

“Wedding jitters, perhaps.”

“Given the Bollywood production she’s planned, hardly.”

I shook my head.  “You mean there’s going to be elephants?”

She laughed.  “Don’t be surprised if there are.”

There hadn’t been any at the rehearsal.  But the fact that there were nearly a hundred people at the rehearsal was scary enough in itself.  I’d seen the running sheet, and yes, it was a production, being filmed, with a Hollywood director.

Sadly, it was neither Steven Spielberg nor James Cameron.  I would have liked some tap-dancing star troopers or the set of the Titanic as a backdrop.

We flew to the heliport and were picked up by a chauffeur-driven limousine.  I made sure that Mother, Wally, and Milly were in situ before Alisha and I entered the restaurant.

We entered by a side entrance to avoid causing a stir out front or interfering with the other diners.  I had prebooked a private room in a nom de plume.

Only the Maitre’d knew who really made the booking.  If there were any surprises…

It was a priceless moment when Milly saw Alisha not as the broken spirit she had been for the last few months, but back to being a rival.

And taking the position of the real Bernadine, where Milly would only be one by marriage.  The look, if only for a millisecond, was one of pure malice.

As soon as mother and Wally saw her, they were up and making a fuss.  After all, they hadn’t seen much of her since the event.  Nor were they across everything that happened.

I went over to my family and gave them a hug, trying to be my usual self, which wasn’t hard.  In public, with Milly or anyone, for that matter, I was aloof.

Waiting for her turn, Milly gave Alisha a hug, and they spoke briefly before we all sat, and the head waiter appeared, and the discussion about drinks and what was on the special menu.

Orders taken, we settled into the chairs.

Alisha was the focal point.

“It’s so good to see you back to your old self.”  Mother was particularly pleased as she had been at her wits’ end on how to cope with such a distressed child.  That was where I took over, looking after her.

“I couldn’t mope forever.  Henry has been an angel, looking after me.”

“Where?”  It was out before she could stifle it, and not the question I expected.  “I mean, sorry, that came out a little strange.  I had been asking after you,” she said to Milly, “but no one seemed to know where you were.”

“I needed to get away for a while.  No one needs to know, and you’ll understand soon why it’s a blessing to have somewhere to escape from the outside world.  Your life is about to become public property.”

And with that, Alisha avoided the question.  I was sure both Mother and Wally knew where I went to hide and that it was where Alisha had gone.  Mother had trusted me to look after her.  Wally had too many other matters to attend to.

Milly looked at me.  “Perhaps you can take me there. It sounds wonderful.”

I smiled.  “One day, if or when you suffer a malady.  Otherwise, it will be for Alisha until she finally returns to work.  She needs the space.”

Then I turned to Wally.  “Legal tells me they have a lead on the whereabouts of Jackson Pearce.”

It was a calculated move, one I had warned Alisha about, knowing it might have an effect.

I was watching Milly, and it got the expected reaction, one I would not have seen if I hadn’t been looking for it.

“I thought I read he left the country.”  Milly, if she had been smarter, would have left it alone.

“That was a rumour he spread to the media.  I have questions, and I suspect now that Alisha has recovered, she would like five minutes alone with him.”

“Why.  He’s a rat. Why would you want to rake over those coals?”

Alisha smiled.  “I want an apology.  I will get an apology.  One way or another.”

Yes.  Milly looked at Alisha with a whole new perspective.  The determination in her voice was stirring and set a tone for the lunch.

Milly had been caught offside and didn’t recover.  She was caught between brother and sister, where the sister was the priority, and I got the impression she had just realised there was a slight shift in our relationship.

When we parted, she tried very hard to recover our usual easy manner, and I relaxed to the point where she felt she had succeeded.  I could tell she had questions, not the sort she could ask then, but perhaps it would be a call later.

She asked again if we could spend the rest of the day together, but I told her there were too many matters I had to attend to before the wedding. Otherwise, there would be no honeymoon.

She had planned that too, and it was all the places she had dreamed of going, first class or better.  I had been looking forward to it as well, though I had been to a lot of the places, and travelling coach and backpacking as you did when wide-eyed and adventurous.

I had suggested it, and she had laughed.  The Benadines didn’t travel in coach class in any mode of transport.

I shook my head.  Absence, I said, made the heart grow fonder.  After all, we would be spending the rest of our lives together.

After we parted, I was left with the impression I was not going to survive the honeymoon.

It was odd that after two days, and knowing the truth, I felt so cold that I shivered.  Alisha took my hand and squeezed it.

“If it makes you feel any better, she is a very cold fish pretending to be something else.  Even I could feel it, and it made me shudder more than once.  That whole family are monstrous.  They have to be to prey on people like us.”

We went to my city apartment and waited.

Jenkins had suggested that he have a team keep her under surveillance and see where she went or did.  I had told him we were going to make a few suggestions about her brother and see if she tried to call or approach him.

I said she wouldn’t be that stupid.

But if we were close to finding him and telling her, she might think he would drag her down with him and demand that he go away.  It was an interesting theory.

Several hours passed.  I rested; Alisha was reading a Mills and Boon romance novel.  She said it gave her hope there could be a happy ending.

When we both least expected it, the phone vibrated.  A message.  It was an address and a request to come.

“Pearce and Pearce?”

“Possibly.” I couldn’t believe it would be that easy.

When we arrived, there were police outside the building, and Jenkins was with a detective in the foyer.  No one said much, only that I was needed for an identification.

We went up the elevator to the fifth floor, and down the passage to the last door on the left, the one where a policeman was standing outside.

He stood to one side, and we went in.

Milly was standing between two large policemen, and on the floor, being attended by paramedics, was her brother, Jackson.  He had a head wound and was barely conscious.

Milly looked at me.  “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same question.  Why are you here with Jack?  You said he’d left the country.”

“I said I read he left the country.”

“And yet here you are.”

“It’s not what you think.”

“And what do you think, I think?  Because from where I’m standing, a woman I hardly know has attacked her brother, the man who tried to rob my sister, and contributed to her suicide attempt.”

“He’s not my brother.”

“Perhaps not from the same parents, but for at least a dozen years in the same foster home until you ran away together.”

“Am I getting a family lawyer?”

“You’re not family, Milly.  You’re a thief and a liar, and I have no idea who you are, nor do I want to.  The engagement and the wedding are off.

It turned to the detective.  “Any details you need on Miss Pearce, detective, Jenkins here will give you what we have.  I believe there is new information on her brother’s crimes against my sister.  If that’s all?”

It was.  Alisha looked down at the man on the ground and took no pleasure in what she saw.  It was perhaps justice of a sort.  As we left, I saw her texting.  When I asked who, she said I would find out soon enough.

The late edition of the paper, with a headline, “All that glitters”, and below the story of a grifter and her brother trying to take down the Benadine family, and very nearly succeeding.

It was a story my father would have had suppressed because it made us look foolish.  When I asked her why she did it, she said no matter what the public thought of us, we were transparent, far more than any others in our situation.  But, she said, more than anything else, it ensured no one else would try.

Well, not in our lifetime anyway.

…

©  Charles Heath  2025-2026

Q is for – Quid Pro Quo

…

Perhaps if I’d thought about it long enough, I might have seen it coming, but it was taking that light at the end of the tunnel as a good thing, not the double-headed train pounding towards me at breakneck speed while I was tied to the tracks.

It would be easy to blame my mother.  She was the one who taught us to take everyone at face value, to see the good in the world, and, of course, eight times out of ten, everything was fine.

Until it wasn’t.

I was on the balcony overlooking the bay, the house that my grandfather had first built as a getaway shack, expanded into a holiday home, and then into my retreat, the place I could hide away from the world.

It was the same for my sister, who was still recovering from a bad relationship, one that she blamed herself for, but the truth was, she was not at fault, not for any of it.

But the scars ran deep, deep enough that in the pit of despair, she did the unforgivable, and it was a sixth sense that sent me to her in her time of need.

Now, she was well on the road to recovery, older and very much wiser.

For both of us.

…

“Did you see the report Jenkins sent?”

She was stretched out on the deckchair, taking in the sunshine that came with early spring.  It was warm but not hot, a gentle breeze rustling through the surrounding trees.

There were white caps out to sea, and there was a ship slowly plying its way past the bay.  It was a busy shipping lane, and it was the perfect distraction to watch the ships go by.

“I did.”

Jenkins was the company’s head of security, and I had asked him to investigate the man who had deceived and nearly destroyed my twin sister.  In an attempt to get justice, he had gotten off on a technicality and walked free.

It wasn’t justice, but justice sometimes could be blinded.

“Did you have any idea?”

I had to say I didn’t.  Who would when the woman of your dreams, a woman who ticked all of the boxes, comes into your life when you least expect it.

At first, I believed it was too good to be true.  Jenkins checked her out, and everything was irreproachable.  It was not that I was the one who didn’t trust her. It was the people around me.

Once the investigation was over, I decided it was time.  We had been dating off and on for over a year, and it had been a slow burn.

Then Alisha discovered just who and what her boyfriend was, just in time to prevent a travesty.  She was worth a small fortune, and Jackson Pearce had very nearly stolen it all.

He only made one mistake.  He told, no, bragged, that he was about to take down the Bernadines, one of the wealthier and blue-ribbon families.

He very neatly got away with it.  He was free, but he was penniless, and oddly not concerned or angry.

I asked Jenkins to find out why.

It was in the report sitting on the coffee table beside Alisha’s deckchair.

About the woman I was about to marry in the wedding of the year, after letting her take control of the preparations and ceremony and spending close to three million dollars.

A lot of that money was channelled back to her brother Jackson Pearce.  Her real name was Milly Pearce.  She’d stuck to the Milly but was using her father’s mother’s birth surname, making it difficult to trace in a first scan of a family tree.

Or lack of one, which matched her assertion, she was an orphan, from an orphanage that no longer existed, and all records of her had been destroyed in a fire.

Only Jenkins thought it was suspicious, but we were all prepared to give her the benefit of the doubt.

“No. She is such a lovely person.”

“So was Jack, until…”  It was still painful for her, but not so much that it hurt that much.  “What are you going to do?”

“Play.  Do you think you’re strong enough to join me?”

“Can I shoot her?”

I gave her a curious expression.  As much as I understood how she felt about that family, it was not worth the jail sentence.

“No.”

“Spoil sport.”

She sighed.  I took her attitude and the determination in her voice as good signs that she was all but over her calamity.

Up to the unmasking of Jack, she had been almost like a sister to Milly.  I had thought it was the sort of bonding one would expect between the women.  Milly had been suitably disparaging towards the dastardly boyfriend, but whatever had been between them had been broken.

Knowing what she did now, it was difficult to imagine how she could be nice to her.

But it would be settled the next day.  I had promised to take Milly to a special lunch with just our family, my mother, who was kept oblivious of the details of Alisha’s breakup and subsequent events, my older brother, Wally, who was the current CEO of the company, the one I would eventually take over, and myself, basically to talk about where she would fit into the echelons.

We had talked about it, and she had suggested a role suited to her standing.  She had also considered that she was part of the family and, therefore, entitled to a parcel of shares. That alone should have set off alarm bells, but since Mother and Wally had suggested it, who was I to disagree?

“Are you going to tell Mother and Walter?”

It was like she was reading my mind.

“No.  Let’s play her game out and see where it goes.”

“Are you prepared for it?”

I don’t think I would ever be.  I had been hesitant to make our budding romance public, and on the eight-month anniversary, we had been ambushed by the media.  She swore she had not told anyone, but she and I were the only two who knew.

It was the catalyst needed to push us to the next level.  Even then, I was not suspicious, accepting her explanation.  It was not impossible that I was being followed by a photographer looking for a scoop.

“What would be the upside for her?”

“Without sounding catty, Henry, if she is cut from the same cloth as her brother, there’s always a reason.”

“Fair enough.  We shall see.”

I rose early and took my time getting ready.  There were a few calls I had to make, one a long chat with Legal, with the only lawyer I could trust, a chap I went to university with, and funded his start in the legal world.

Disillusioned with run-of-the-mill legalities, he took a break, married his childhood sweetheart, and asked if I could find something for him.

I asked the head of Legal to appoint him as my personal lawyer, and he did.  Sworn to secrecy, he was the fourth person who knew about Milly’s perfidy.  Surprisingly, he was not surprised.

I was having a coffee after considering a stiff Scotch.  Perhaps later, when I get back.

Alisha came out, looking like her old self and looking stunning.  She had toyed with the idea of being a model but decided against it after working on a shoot as an assistant.

“How do I look?”

“Like an angel.”

“Then she will not see me coming.  All sweetness and light, Henry.  I’ve been out of the loop, so I can play dumb but not too dumb.  I’ll make her work to restart our friendship.”

“Promise me the secret is safe.”

She smiled.  “You have my word.  I would not want to miss this for the world.”

“Good.  Now I must make the call.  Phase one is about to begin.”  I picked up the phone and made the call.

I put it on speaker.

“Darling, is everything alright?”

Her usual, what I called adorable, tone.  Today, it didn’t give me shivers.

“Just a little hiccup.  I’m running late, so Wally will be collecting you.  I should be there on time, or a few minutes later.  Try not to miss me too much.”

“Will you be staying tonight?”

I took a deep breath.  I had been planning to, but things had changed.  I didn’t think I could keep up the pretence at close quarters for as long as all night.

“We talked about this.  The wedding is in two days.  I think the few days’ absence will make our hearts grow fonder.  Besides, I must complete all the legal formalities of setting you up as a family member.  You’re about to become a very well-situated wife.”

I could hear her considering what that all meant.  Wealth, power, everything her brother had tried to take.  I wondered what her plan was.

She sighed.  “Lunch will have to suffice, I guess.  See you soon.”

Alisha looked at the phone and then at me.  “That was a bit abrupt.”

“Wedding jitters, perhaps.”

“Given the Bollywood production she’s planned, hardly.”

I shook my head.  “You mean there’s going to be elephants?”

She laughed.  “Don’t be surprised if there are.”

There hadn’t been any at the rehearsal.  But the fact that there were nearly a hundred people at the rehearsal was scary enough in itself.  I’d seen the running sheet, and yes, it was a production, being filmed, with a Hollywood director.

Sadly, it was neither Steven Spielberg nor James Cameron.  I would have liked some tap-dancing star troopers or the set of the Titanic as a backdrop.

We flew to the heliport and were picked up by a chauffeur-driven limousine.  I made sure that Mother, Wally, and Milly were in situ before Alisha and I entered the restaurant.

We entered by a side entrance to avoid causing a stir out front or interfering with the other diners.  I had prebooked a private room in a nom de plume.

Only the Maitre’d knew who really made the booking.  If there were any surprises…

It was a priceless moment when Milly saw Alisha not as the broken spirit she had been for the last few months, but back to being a rival.

And taking the position of the real Bernadine, where Milly would only be one by marriage.  The look, if only for a millisecond, was one of pure malice.

As soon as mother and Wally saw her, they were up and making a fuss.  After all, they hadn’t seen much of her since the event.  Nor were they across everything that happened.

I went over to my family and gave them a hug, trying to be my usual self, which wasn’t hard.  In public, with Milly or anyone, for that matter, I was aloof.

Waiting for her turn, Milly gave Alisha a hug, and they spoke briefly before we all sat, and the head waiter appeared, and the discussion about drinks and what was on the special menu.

Orders taken, we settled into the chairs.

Alisha was the focal point.

“It’s so good to see you back to your old self.”  Mother was particularly pleased as she had been at her wits’ end on how to cope with such a distressed child.  That was where I took over, looking after her.

“I couldn’t mope forever.  Henry has been an angel, looking after me.”

“Where?”  It was out before she could stifle it, and not the question I expected.  “I mean, sorry, that came out a little strange.  I had been asking after you,” she said to Milly, “but no one seemed to know where you were.”

“I needed to get away for a while.  No one needs to know, and you’ll understand soon why it’s a blessing to have somewhere to escape from the outside world.  Your life is about to become public property.”

And with that, Alisha avoided the question.  I was sure both Mother and Wally knew where I went to hide and that it was where Alisha had gone.  Mother had trusted me to look after her.  Wally had too many other matters to attend to.

Milly looked at me.  “Perhaps you can take me there. It sounds wonderful.”

I smiled.  “One day, if or when you suffer a malady.  Otherwise, it will be for Alisha until she finally returns to work.  She needs the space.”

Then I turned to Wally.  “Legal tells me they have a lead on the whereabouts of Jackson Pearce.”

It was a calculated move, one I had warned Alisha about, knowing it might have an effect.

I was watching Milly, and it got the expected reaction, one I would not have seen if I hadn’t been looking for it.

“I thought I read he left the country.”  Milly, if she had been smarter, would have left it alone.

“That was a rumour he spread to the media.  I have questions, and I suspect now that Alisha has recovered, she would like five minutes alone with him.”

“Why.  He’s a rat. Why would you want to rake over those coals?”

Alisha smiled.  “I want an apology.  I will get an apology.  One way or another.”

Yes.  Milly looked at Alisha with a whole new perspective.  The determination in her voice was stirring and set a tone for the lunch.

Milly had been caught offside and didn’t recover.  She was caught between brother and sister, where the sister was the priority, and I got the impression she had just realised there was a slight shift in our relationship.

When we parted, she tried very hard to recover our usual easy manner, and I relaxed to the point where she felt she had succeeded.  I could tell she had questions, not the sort she could ask then, but perhaps it would be a call later.

She asked again if we could spend the rest of the day together, but I told her there were too many matters I had to attend to before the wedding. Otherwise, there would be no honeymoon.

She had planned that too, and it was all the places she had dreamed of going, first class or better.  I had been looking forward to it as well, though I had been to a lot of the places, and travelling coach and backpacking as you did when wide-eyed and adventurous.

I had suggested it, and she had laughed.  The Benadines didn’t travel in coach class in any mode of transport.

I shook my head.  Absence, I said, made the heart grow fonder.  After all, we would be spending the rest of our lives together.

After we parted, I was left with the impression I was not going to survive the honeymoon.

It was odd that after two days, and knowing the truth, I felt so cold that I shivered.  Alisha took my hand and squeezed it.

“If it makes you feel any better, she is a very cold fish pretending to be something else.  Even I could feel it, and it made me shudder more than once.  That whole family are monstrous.  They have to be to prey on people like us.”

We went to my city apartment and waited.

Jenkins had suggested that he have a team keep her under surveillance and see where she went or did.  I had told him we were going to make a few suggestions about her brother and see if she tried to call or approach him.

I said she wouldn’t be that stupid.

But if we were close to finding him and telling her, she might think he would drag her down with him and demand that he go away.  It was an interesting theory.

Several hours passed.  I rested; Alisha was reading a Mills and Boon romance novel.  She said it gave her hope there could be a happy ending.

When we both least expected it, the phone vibrated.  A message.  It was an address and a request to come.

“Pearce and Pearce?”

“Possibly.” I couldn’t believe it would be that easy.

When we arrived, there were police outside the building, and Jenkins was with a detective in the foyer.  No one said much, only that I was needed for an identification.

We went up the elevator to the fifth floor, and down the passage to the last door on the left, the one where a policeman was standing outside.

He stood to one side, and we went in.

Milly was standing between two large policemen, and on the floor, being attended by paramedics, was her brother, Jackson.  He had a head wound and was barely conscious.

Milly looked at me.  “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same question.  Why are you here with Jack?  You said he’d left the country.”

“I said I read he left the country.”

“And yet here you are.”

“It’s not what you think.”

“And what do you think, I think?  Because from where I’m standing, a woman I hardly know has attacked her brother, the man who tried to rob my sister, and contributed to her suicide attempt.”

“He’s not my brother.”

“Perhaps not from the same parents, but for at least a dozen years in the same foster home until you ran away together.”

“Am I getting a family lawyer?”

“You’re not family, Milly.  You’re a thief and a liar, and I have no idea who you are, nor do I want to.  The engagement and the wedding are off.

It turned to the detective.  “Any details you need on Miss Pearce, detective, Jenkins here will give you what we have.  I believe there is new information on her brother’s crimes against my sister.  If that’s all?”

It was.  Alisha looked down at the man on the ground and took no pleasure in what she saw.  It was perhaps justice of a sort.  As we left, I saw her texting.  When I asked who, she said I would find out soon enough.

The late edition of the paper, with a headline, “All that glitters”, and below the story of a grifter and her brother trying to take down the Benadine family, and very nearly succeeding.

It was a story my father would have had suppressed because it made us look foolish.  When I asked her why she did it, she said no matter what the public thought of us, we were transparent, far more than any others in our situation.  But, she said, more than anything else, it ensured no one else would try.

Well, not in our lifetime anyway.

…

©  Charles Heath  2025-2026

P is for – Princess

…

It was a mad dash from the office to the airport, and like most times when it came to personal travel, I just made it, or I was five minutes too late.

Of course, this time, I had a legitimate reason.  Because I had to clear the vacation days, I needed to go home and be with my mother, whose health had taken a turn for the worse, and it meant visiting HR.

And in HR was Adeline, the woman I had met at a staff function the week before and had spent a rather interesting evening.  I had a strict policy of not dating work colleagues, but for some reason, she seemed different.

It was not a date, and we had parted without any commitment to continue, though something inside me told me it might be worth pursuing.

I had to sign the vacation form, and she was the duty officer at the desk.  In the end, I had to run, but she had asked to exchange phone numbers.  I had no idea how long I would be gone, a few days or much longer, given my mother’s doctor wasn’t sure himself.

All I knew was that her time was almost up.  Stage four cancer was as unpredictable as it was relentless.  The only positive is that it has given me the time to get home and spend those last few weeks with her.

My brother and sister were on the other side of the world and wouldn’t be able to make it, though they were trying to get home.  The thing was that our mother was not all that keen for them to return.  It was an odd response and one I couldn’t understand.

Perhaps I would find out when I got there.

…

On a trip that involved two planes, one made at least a dozen times over the past two years without a glitch, was expected, discounting the circumstances, to be equally as easy.

Wrong.

It was like the universe was trying to tell me something.  A surplus bag left behind stopped my outward-bound first flight, delaying it to the point it was scrubbed, and everyone had to return the next day.

That killed the connecting flight, so that when I was finally on the ground, the second flight wasn’t leaving for another eleven hours.

I finally got home two days after I started out.  I was glad she was not at death’s door, or I would have missed seeing her alive and have those last few meaningless words we say to people who are dying.

It was a given that I would automatically ask how she was, knowing she was never going to feel well again.  And yet there was no stopping us because we had been indoctrinated a long time ago with such human concern.

She was propped up in a comfortable chair by the fire, reading a book when I got there, fighting off the beginnings of a snowstorm, and driving an unfamiliar car.

At best, I was expecting to be snowed in.  My mother’s last conversation over the phone while I was waiting for the second plane was upbeat, though I could hear the pain in her voice. She was on regulated morphine shots to manage that same pain.

I dumped my bag at the foot of the stairs and went into the large living space.  In winter, it could get very cold, but it was more the views in spring and summer that made up for the other two seasons.

“How could you read a book when the falling snow is so breathtakingly beautiful?”

In more ways than one.  The intense cold outside could make breathing difficult.  It used to affect me when I was younger.

“Richie, at last.”

I went over and gave her a hug.

Mrs Davis, her carer, came in carrying a tray with tea and coffee.  My mother had never acquired the taste for coffee, perhaps because of her family origins in England. 

She was, she always said, with a mischievous twinkle in her eye, that she should have been a princess, and only the thought of all that pomp and ceremony that came with the title had put her off, running away to America and a different sort of life.

And when we asked her what she meant, she would always say, ‘That’s for me to know and for you to find out’.  But it never escaped me that Dad always used to call her his ‘Princess’ with one of his enigmatic smiles, along with their story on how she came second in the Prom Queen stakes and therefore would always be his Princess.

I never understood what he meant, and the others just thought he was simply crazy in love with her.

It was the sort of love I wanted to find, but so far, I had not.

Mrs Davis poured the tea and left us.  I sat in the seat beside her, where Dad always sat.  It was strange that he always called the living room ‘the throne room’.

“You were lucky.  The airport just closed.  The snow is going to set in for a few days.”

God’s will, perhaps.

“Any word from the others?”  I could see the iPad beside her, a sure sign she had been video conferencing with my brother and sister.

“I told them it’s not urgent.  They have obligations and children to consider.  Unlike you, free as a bird.”

It was a blessing and, ironically, it was a curse.  She had hoped that she would have at least one grandchild from each of her children, and I had disappointed her.

There had been several candidates over the years, but I was not what they were looking for, and in the end, I decided not to try.  If it was meant to happen, it would.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.  I’d rather she were perfect for you than second best.”

“You were, according to Dad, and that’s all I ask for.”

“You’re not a second-best sort of person, Richie.  She’s out there. You just haven’t met her yet.”

It was the same every time I came home.  It saddened me that this would be the last time and that it was going to be hard to remain upbeat.

…

Several weeks passed, and it was very hard to watch her slowly decline.  Her bed was set up in the living room, making it easier for her to get from the bed to the seat

A steady stream of visitors showed how much the townsfolk adored her, everyone coming to pay their respects while she had the strength.

Now it was deserting her, so she remained in bed and held court from there.  A different colour dressing gown for each day of the week.

Our conversations were of childhood memories, hers and mine, though there were hardly any of mine that she wasn’t aware of, and a whole swathe of hers I had no idea about.  I don’t think any of us did, Dad included, and it sounded to me like she had another life before this one.  I didn’t believe in reincarnation, but the stories, well, they sounded too real to be just in her imagination.

She had lived a life that was quite literally beyond imagination.

Until…

A few days later, a visitor came.  Not your average visitor, but someone who looked vaguely familiar, someone I’d seen before.

Someone who called her mama.

She sat down opposite my mother and took her hand in hers.  It was like turning on a light switch and watching the brightness of an illuminated globe light up the room.

“Anastasia?”

“Yes, mama.  It is me.  It is your time.”

Mother looked at me with watery eyes and a big smile, happy in a way she had not been for a long time.  “I asked Anastasia to come see you.  I told her you were a good boy.”

Whatever that meant.

She then closed her eyes for so long I thought she had passed, finally content that her time had come, but then she said, with conviction, “You have heard this story a million times, but not quite.”

At first, I thought she was going to tell me one of her fairy tales, but she was not.  She had opened her eyes and was looking straight at me.

“What more could there be?” I asked.

“More than you could ever imagine.”

…

Then, it was like a light went on in my head.  The woman sitting next to my mother, holding her hand, looking angelic.

The Princess Anastasia.  I’d just been reading about her, from some obscure country tucked away in the mountainous region of Europe, a place few knew about and even less could visit.

And then looking between the two, the uncanny resemblance between the two.

“You can see it, can’t you?” Anastasia said.

“You are related.”

“She is my mother, yes.  She was banished many, many years ago, and I have only just found her.  You are her son.  Her dying wish was for you to return to her homeland, and if you honour her dying wish, I will be very happy to take you there.”

My mother looked at me with teary eyes.  “Will you?”

“What about the others?”

“Then need not know, and it would be of little concern to them.  They are not of your blood.  You are the son of a prince and a princess, Richard, and meant for greater things.  Please tell me you will return with Anastasia.”  She reached out for my hand, and when I took it in mine, it felt cold.  Her glow was beginning to fade, and the end was near.

To be honest, I thought she was off her rocker, but the earnestness in her tone, and the fact that I was sitting next to a real, live princess, and apparently my sister.  I think I just nodded dumbly.

With that, she passed, and though I was not to know then, a whole new world awaited me.

…

©  Charles Heath  2025-2026

P is for – Princess

…

It was a mad dash from the office to the airport, and like most times when it came to personal travel, I just made it, or I was five minutes too late.

Of course, this time, I had a legitimate reason.  Because I had to clear the vacation days, I needed to go home and be with my mother, whose health had taken a turn for the worse, and it meant visiting HR.

And in HR was Adeline, the woman I had met at a staff function the week before and had spent a rather interesting evening.  I had a strict policy of not dating work colleagues, but for some reason, she seemed different.

It was not a date, and we had parted without any commitment to continue, though something inside me told me it might be worth pursuing.

I had to sign the vacation form, and she was the duty officer at the desk.  In the end, I had to run, but she had asked to exchange phone numbers.  I had no idea how long I would be gone, a few days or much longer, given my mother’s doctor wasn’t sure himself.

All I knew was that her time was almost up.  Stage four cancer was as unpredictable as it was relentless.  The only positive is that it has given me the time to get home and spend those last few weeks with her.

My brother and sister were on the other side of the world and wouldn’t be able to make it, though they were trying to get home.  The thing was that our mother was not all that keen for them to return.  It was an odd response and one I couldn’t understand.

Perhaps I would find out when I got there.

…

On a trip that involved two planes, one made at least a dozen times over the past two years without a glitch, was expected, discounting the circumstances, to be equally as easy.

Wrong.

It was like the universe was trying to tell me something.  A surplus bag left behind stopped my outward-bound first flight, delaying it to the point it was scrubbed, and everyone had to return the next day.

That killed the connecting flight, so that when I was finally on the ground, the second flight wasn’t leaving for another eleven hours.

I finally got home two days after I started out.  I was glad she was not at death’s door, or I would have missed seeing her alive and have those last few meaningless words we say to people who are dying.

It was a given that I would automatically ask how she was, knowing she was never going to feel well again.  And yet there was no stopping us because we had been indoctrinated a long time ago with such human concern.

She was propped up in a comfortable chair by the fire, reading a book when I got there, fighting off the beginnings of a snowstorm, and driving an unfamiliar car.

At best, I was expecting to be snowed in.  My mother’s last conversation over the phone while I was waiting for the second plane was upbeat, though I could hear the pain in her voice. She was on regulated morphine shots to manage that same pain.

I dumped my bag at the foot of the stairs and went into the large living space.  In winter, it could get very cold, but it was more the views in spring and summer that made up for the other two seasons.

“How could you read a book when the falling snow is so breathtakingly beautiful?”

In more ways than one.  The intense cold outside could make breathing difficult.  It used to affect me when I was younger.

“Richie, at last.”

I went over and gave her a hug.

Mrs Davis, her carer, came in carrying a tray with tea and coffee.  My mother had never acquired the taste for coffee, perhaps because of her family origins in England. 

She was, she always said, with a mischievous twinkle in her eye, that she should have been a princess, and only the thought of all that pomp and ceremony that came with the title had put her off, running away to America and a different sort of life.

And when we asked her what she meant, she would always say, ‘That’s for me to know and for you to find out’.  But it never escaped me that Dad always used to call her his ‘Princess’ with one of his enigmatic smiles, along with their story on how she came second in the Prom Queen stakes and therefore would always be his Princess.

I never understood what he meant, and the others just thought he was simply crazy in love with her.

It was the sort of love I wanted to find, but so far, I had not.

Mrs Davis poured the tea and left us.  I sat in the seat beside her, where Dad always sat.  It was strange that he always called the living room ‘the throne room’.

“You were lucky.  The airport just closed.  The snow is going to set in for a few days.”

God’s will, perhaps.

“Any word from the others?”  I could see the iPad beside her, a sure sign she had been video conferencing with my brother and sister.

“I told them it’s not urgent.  They have obligations and children to consider.  Unlike you, free as a bird.”

It was a blessing and, ironically, it was a curse.  She had hoped that she would have at least one grandchild from each of her children, and I had disappointed her.

There had been several candidates over the years, but I was not what they were looking for, and in the end, I decided not to try.  If it was meant to happen, it would.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.  I’d rather she were perfect for you than second best.”

“You were, according to Dad, and that’s all I ask for.”

“You’re not a second-best sort of person, Richie.  She’s out there. You just haven’t met her yet.”

It was the same every time I came home.  It saddened me that this would be the last time and that it was going to be hard to remain upbeat.

…

Several weeks passed, and it was very hard to watch her slowly decline.  Her bed was set up in the living room, making it easier for her to get from the bed to the seat

A steady stream of visitors showed how much the townsfolk adored her, everyone coming to pay their respects while she had the strength.

Now it was deserting her, so she remained in bed and held court from there.  A different colour dressing gown for each day of the week.

Our conversations were of childhood memories, hers and mine, though there were hardly any of mine that she wasn’t aware of, and a whole swathe of hers I had no idea about.  I don’t think any of us did, Dad included, and it sounded to me like she had another life before this one.  I didn’t believe in reincarnation, but the stories, well, they sounded too real to be just in her imagination.

She had lived a life that was quite literally beyond imagination.

Until…

A few days later, a visitor came.  Not your average visitor, but someone who looked vaguely familiar, someone I’d seen before.

Someone who called her mama.

She sat down opposite my mother and took her hand in hers.  It was like turning on a light switch and watching the brightness of an illuminated globe light up the room.

“Anastasia?”

“Yes, mama.  It is me.  It is your time.”

Mother looked at me with watery eyes and a big smile, happy in a way she had not been for a long time.  “I asked Anastasia to come see you.  I told her you were a good boy.”

Whatever that meant.

She then closed her eyes for so long I thought she had passed, finally content that her time had come, but then she said, with conviction, “You have heard this story a million times, but not quite.”

At first, I thought she was going to tell me one of her fairy tales, but she was not.  She had opened her eyes and was looking straight at me.

“What more could there be?” I asked.

“More than you could ever imagine.”

…

Then, it was like a light went on in my head.  The woman sitting next to my mother, holding her hand, looking angelic.

The Princess Anastasia.  I’d just been reading about her, from some obscure country tucked away in the mountainous region of Europe, a place few knew about and even less could visit.

And then looking between the two, the uncanny resemblance between the two.

“You can see it, can’t you?” Anastasia said.

“You are related.”

“She is my mother, yes.  She was banished many, many years ago, and I have only just found her.  You are her son.  Her dying wish was for you to return to her homeland, and if you honour her dying wish, I will be very happy to take you there.”

My mother looked at me with teary eyes.  “Will you?”

“What about the others?”

“Then need not know, and it would be of little concern to them.  They are not of your blood.  You are the son of a prince and a princess, Richard, and meant for greater things.  Please tell me you will return with Anastasia.”  She reached out for my hand, and when I took it in mine, it felt cold.  Her glow was beginning to fade, and the end was near.

To be honest, I thought she was off her rocker, but the earnestness in her tone, and the fact that I was sitting next to a real, live princess, and apparently my sister.  I think I just nodded dumbly.

With that, she passed, and though I was not to know then, a whole new world awaited me.

…

©  Charles Heath  2025-2026

O is for – Outcast

…

I hated reunions.  My family insisted on one every five years, and the only excuse for missing one was if you were dead.

I tried to pretend that I didn’t get the invitation, but my older sister Elaine flew to the middle of nowhere, as she called it, to take me back.  She even paid for the ticket.

She was so rich I was surprised she hadn’t come down in the family jet.  Yes, they had one, and yes, she could fly it.

I hated her.

I was the black sheep.  I was the one who was always in trouble, married the wrong girl, invested in scams, and ended up in a shack with no one and nothing to show for my life.  Oh yes, and a nothing job as a security guard.  I just had to turn up and go home.

It didn’t matter how many times I mentioned this, Elaine said that it didn’t matter. Family was everything.  I would have accepted that, except for her tone.  It was the same one she used when admonishing me when my marriage fell apart.

It’s not your fault, but who else is there to blame?

Elaine lived in New York, Merilyn lived in San Francisco, Roger lived in Albuquerque, and Sam, the family hero, lived in Washington.  Every one of my brothers and sisters was a high achiever.

My father, joking, he would say, would sometimes ask whether or not my mother had had an affair, and I was the result of it.  She didn’t quite see the joke in it, but I could.  He was happy I was out of sight and out of mind.

Elaine swept into a room, followed by adulation.

I stayed at the door and barely got a glance. 

Until my father saw me.  “James.  I’m so glad you could make it.”  He didn’t move from his seat.

What he meant to say, as he had in the past, was ‘look what the cat dragged in’   It was a surprise he hadn’t.

My mother looked over, and I could see just that momentary sigh, as if it wouldn’t be a bad thing if I’d just stayed away.

Then smiled and said, “James, you made it.  I thought you had something you couldn’t get away from?”

True.  I was using a non-existent conference as an excuse.  “This was more important,” I said

Her look told me it wasn’t. 

Roger and Marilyn had already arrived.  The Star Act, Sam, would make the grand entrance, outdoing Elaine.  It was a competition, and he had no chance, even if he was elected president.

Roger came over.  “You know this isn’t going to end well.  You look well.”  No handshake, no hug, nothing.  It was like we were not related.

“Nice to see you too, bro.”

He winced.  Yes, I can read his mind, ‘don’t call me bro, you asshole, and we’re definitely not related’.

Merilyn was a little better. She gave me a two-second hug.  She was the second-lowest high achiever, one rung above me, and not married yet.

Mother’s looks covered her sentiment, “You’re getting older, and it’s harder when you have children at that age”.

She couldn’t tell her mother she hated the idea of having children, much less bringing them into this horrible world.  Maybe I would.

Now, if I went up to my old room, left as it was the day I stormed out, maybe no one would notice me.

“Jimbo.  You came?”

Alex, Elaine’s husband, had been hiding out back.

“Your wife dragged me here under threat of death.  I had no choice.”  And wait for it…

“Everyone has a choice, Jimbo.”

Jimbo.  The cretin couldn’t even get my name right, or it was his way of treating me like I was nothing.  I’d corrected him for a few months and then given up.  His contempt for me knew no bounds.

He was riding on her coattails, and that was a marriage that was heading for the rocks.  He was a ‘player’.  Snobby pretentious twit.

Elaine was still doing the rounds and had the limelight.  Alex would wait a minute and then attempt to take it away.

My cue to leave.  Before I ran into Angelique, Rogers long-time partner with no wedding date in sight, a pretentious girl with a phony French accent. 

No one knew she had been a Playboy model and a porn actress before she met Roger.

We had a pact.  I wouldn’t tell anyone, and she wouldn’t treat me condescendingly, but that was two years ago.  She’d have to think the secret was safe.

If Sam made the move and started down the presidential path, the skeletons were not going to stay in the closet very long.

“James.”  She had a nice voice and was alarmingly beautiful.

“Angelique.”

“Back for round three?  I saw you arrive with Elaine, so perhaps not willingly?”

“Elaine made a special trip.”

“Then you can bet there’s trouble in paradise.”  She smiled.  “Try not to listen through keyholes.”

In other words, get the gossip; something is going on.  Or not, I could never quite tell what she meant.

The noise level dropped, and everyone was grabbing a seat.  Like musical chairs, the last man standing was the last man standing.

Mother saw me by the door.  “Just grab a chair in the dining room, dear.”

“No need.  I’m going up to my room to sulk.  You lot feel free to talk about me.  My situation hadn’t changed since the last time I was here, so I have nothing to add.”

“Don’t be like that.  You are as much a part of the family as all of us.”

It sounded earnest and welcoming, but mothers all practised that line.  What she was really saying was ‘please go so I can talk to Elaine’.

Dad was thinking, ‘son of the bloody milkman’, and Alex, ‘please leave and don’t come back’.  Of course, without the ‘please’.

I shrugged.  “I’ll be down for dinner.  It’ll give you time to think up some insightful questions.”

Then I left, closing the sliding doors that felt like I was stepping from one world into another.

And bumped into Sam.

Who immediately motioned me to be quiet and follow him into the study up the passage.  Inside, he closed the door.

“What the hell, Sam?”

“I don’t want them to know I’m here yet.”

“Why.  You’re the golden boy, just one step removed from Elaine.  But if you…”

“I’m not.”

“What?”

“Running for office.”

“Why?  Because you have a low-life brother.  I’m sure no one cares.”

“No one does.  No, there are bigger secrets than that that would come out, secrets I’m sure no one really knows about, or if they did, they would have told me.”

“What secrets?”  I hardly thought an ex-porn actress would cause problems because nearly all of the current era presidents were known to dabble.

“That’s what I’m here to find out.  And you are the only one no one cares about. I need your help.”

“I’m a useless security guard.”

“You are the only one who hadn’t got an axe to grind out of that lot in that room.  I’m sure if I asked you to give me a one-sentence description of each of them, it would be caustic but true.”

“I can’t help you.  Haven’t you got staff who do that sort of thing?”

“I can’t trust any of them.  There’s no loyalty, just a paycheck.  But tomorrow, they’d sell me out for twenty pieces of gold.  It’s politics at its finest.  So, are you in?”

“Just you and me?”

“Just you and me.  Shake on it.  Your word is your bond.”

“And you being a politician…”

“I get it.  I do.  But yes.  I give you my word.”

I shook his hand

This had all the hallmarks of a gag they had all thought up before I got here, and it was going to explode in my face.  Sam was the last person I could trust and would.

“Now what?”

“We go in and work the room.”

Why did I feel like this was a setup of the worst order?  They could have just found an old girlfriend to humiliate me, but no, Sam and Elaine were always trying to outdo each other at my expense.

At least when it was over, I could leave.  And this time, I would go where neither of them could find me.

…

©  Charles Heath  2025-2026

O is for – Outcast

…

I hated reunions.  My family insisted on one every five years, and the only excuse for missing one was if you were dead.

I tried to pretend that I didn’t get the invitation, but my older sister Elaine flew to the middle of nowhere, as she called it, to take me back.  She even paid for the ticket.

She was so rich I was surprised she hadn’t come down in the family jet.  Yes, they had one, and yes, she could fly it.

I hated her.

I was the black sheep.  I was the one who was always in trouble, married the wrong girl, invested in scams, and ended up in a shack with no one and nothing to show for my life.  Oh yes, and a nothing job as a security guard.  I just had to turn up and go home.

It didn’t matter how many times I mentioned this, Elaine said that it didn’t matter. Family was everything.  I would have accepted that, except for her tone.  It was the same one she used when admonishing me when my marriage fell apart.

It’s not your fault, but who else is there to blame?

Elaine lived in New York, Merilyn lived in San Francisco, Roger lived in Albuquerque, and Sam, the family hero, lived in Washington.  Every one of my brothers and sisters was a high achiever.

My father, joking, he would say, would sometimes ask whether or not my mother had had an affair, and I was the result of it.  She didn’t quite see the joke in it, but I could.  He was happy I was out of sight and out of mind.

Elaine swept into a room, followed by adulation.

I stayed at the door and barely got a glance. 

Until my father saw me.  “James.  I’m so glad you could make it.”  He didn’t move from his seat.

What he meant to say, as he had in the past, was ‘look what the cat dragged in’   It was a surprise he hadn’t.

My mother looked over, and I could see just that momentary sigh, as if it wouldn’t be a bad thing if I’d just stayed away.

Then smiled and said, “James, you made it.  I thought you had something you couldn’t get away from?”

True.  I was using a non-existent conference as an excuse.  “This was more important,” I said

Her look told me it wasn’t. 

Roger and Marilyn had already arrived.  The Star Act, Sam, would make the grand entrance, outdoing Elaine.  It was a competition, and he had no chance, even if he was elected president.

Roger came over.  “You know this isn’t going to end well.  You look well.”  No handshake, no hug, nothing.  It was like we were not related.

“Nice to see you too, bro.”

He winced.  Yes, I can read his mind, ‘don’t call me bro, you asshole, and we’re definitely not related’.

Merilyn was a little better. She gave me a two-second hug.  She was the second-lowest high achiever, one rung above me, and not married yet.

Mother’s looks covered her sentiment, “You’re getting older, and it’s harder when you have children at that age”.

She couldn’t tell her mother she hated the idea of having children, much less bringing them into this horrible world.  Maybe I would.

Now, if I went up to my old room, left as it was the day I stormed out, maybe no one would notice me.

“Jimbo.  You came?”

Alex, Elaine’s husband, had been hiding out back.

“Your wife dragged me here under threat of death.  I had no choice.”  And wait for it…

“Everyone has a choice, Jimbo.”

Jimbo.  The cretin couldn’t even get my name right, or it was his way of treating me like I was nothing.  I’d corrected him for a few months and then given up.  His contempt for me knew no bounds.

He was riding on her coattails, and that was a marriage that was heading for the rocks.  He was a ‘player’.  Snobby pretentious twit.

Elaine was still doing the rounds and had the limelight.  Alex would wait a minute and then attempt to take it away.

My cue to leave.  Before I ran into Angelique, Rogers long-time partner with no wedding date in sight, a pretentious girl with a phony French accent. 

No one knew she had been a Playboy model and a porn actress before she met Roger.

We had a pact.  I wouldn’t tell anyone, and she wouldn’t treat me condescendingly, but that was two years ago.  She’d have to think the secret was safe.

If Sam made the move and started down the presidential path, the skeletons were not going to stay in the closet very long.

“James.”  She had a nice voice and was alarmingly beautiful.

“Angelique.”

“Back for round three?  I saw you arrive with Elaine, so perhaps not willingly?”

“Elaine made a special trip.”

“Then you can bet there’s trouble in paradise.”  She smiled.  “Try not to listen through keyholes.”

In other words, get the gossip; something is going on.  Or not, I could never quite tell what she meant.

The noise level dropped, and everyone was grabbing a seat.  Like musical chairs, the last man standing was the last man standing.

Mother saw me by the door.  “Just grab a chair in the dining room, dear.”

“No need.  I’m going up to my room to sulk.  You lot feel free to talk about me.  My situation hadn’t changed since the last time I was here, so I have nothing to add.”

“Don’t be like that.  You are as much a part of the family as all of us.”

It sounded earnest and welcoming, but mothers all practised that line.  What she was really saying was ‘please go so I can talk to Elaine’.

Dad was thinking, ‘son of the bloody milkman’, and Alex, ‘please leave and don’t come back’.  Of course, without the ‘please’.

I shrugged.  “I’ll be down for dinner.  It’ll give you time to think up some insightful questions.”

Then I left, closing the sliding doors that felt like I was stepping from one world into another.

And bumped into Sam.

Who immediately motioned me to be quiet and follow him into the study up the passage.  Inside, he closed the door.

“What the hell, Sam?”

“I don’t want them to know I’m here yet.”

“Why.  You’re the golden boy, just one step removed from Elaine.  But if you…”

“I’m not.”

“What?”

“Running for office.”

“Why?  Because you have a low-life brother.  I’m sure no one cares.”

“No one does.  No, there are bigger secrets than that that would come out, secrets I’m sure no one really knows about, or if they did, they would have told me.”

“What secrets?”  I hardly thought an ex-porn actress would cause problems because nearly all of the current era presidents were known to dabble.

“That’s what I’m here to find out.  And you are the only one no one cares about. I need your help.”

“I’m a useless security guard.”

“You are the only one who hadn’t got an axe to grind out of that lot in that room.  I’m sure if I asked you to give me a one-sentence description of each of them, it would be caustic but true.”

“I can’t help you.  Haven’t you got staff who do that sort of thing?”

“I can’t trust any of them.  There’s no loyalty, just a paycheck.  But tomorrow, they’d sell me out for twenty pieces of gold.  It’s politics at its finest.  So, are you in?”

“Just you and me?”

“Just you and me.  Shake on it.  Your word is your bond.”

“And you being a politician…”

“I get it.  I do.  But yes.  I give you my word.”

I shook his hand

This had all the hallmarks of a gag they had all thought up before I got here, and it was going to explode in my face.  Sam was the last person I could trust and would.

“Now what?”

“We go in and work the room.”

Why did I feel like this was a setup of the worst order?  They could have just found an old girlfriend to humiliate me, but no, Sam and Elaine were always trying to outdo each other at my expense.

At least when it was over, I could leave.  And this time, I would go where neither of them could find me.

…

©  Charles Heath  2025-2026

N is for – Never trust those nice guys

…

If something is too good to be true, then it generally is.  Those words bounced around in my head only moments after the winner of the award had been announced.

And it wasn’t me.  I had worked hard, done everything that was asked of me, and yet at the eleventh hour, I had been usurped

Of course, I had only myself to blame.

Some other words that rattled around in what could probably now be called an empty space, because no sane person would have believed that McGurk was a worthy recipient, were good guys come last.

They did.

I have been too trusting.

I wanted to believe that McGurk honestly wanted to help me win, but all the time, he was getting the information needed to win the award for himself.

After all, the prize was worth a million pounds.

And he was never going to stay long enough to show them anything for the money.  The proposal was slick, the pitch was slick, and the man himself was slick personified.

However, one item I did know about him was that he had done this before.  A number of times, and after each success, he disappeared with the money and wasn’t seen again.

It was exactly what he would do this time if we let him.

Everyone was also oblivious to the deception.  He was far too affable, far too obliging, far too kind.  And too accommodating.  He was everybody’s friend.

Except mine.

Jason McMaster, the head of the selection committee, came over to offer his commiserations.

“Sorry, old boy,” he began, “but it was a close call, 4 to 5.  You put in a brilliant prospectus, but the numbers didn’t quite add up.”

No, they didn’t do, they.  I noticed far too late that someone had slipped in a revised budget, and it had the look of a grade six student’s horrible attempt to balance a small budget.

I had tried to fix it, but the committee decided the submissions would be as is, where is.  I knew McGurk had a hand in getting those papers, and I was sure it was someone on the selection team who helped him. Without proof, I was not going to change the result.

At least one of the members dared to tell me what had happened and not be shocked on the night.

Evelyn had worked as hard as I had, and it seemed to me he had not approached her.  Perhaps she would have seen him for what he was.  More than once, she told me to be wary.

Like I said, it was on me.

…

McGurk was in his element, the centre of attention, soaking up the adulation as the man who had beaten the sure thing.

Some people didn’t like me, not many, because what they mistook for determination was really the desire to be fair and equitable.

His acceptance speech was the sort to be expected, praising the competition, acknowledging the help I’d given him, and stating that he was going to make a lot of people’s futures much brighter.

I was not sure who those people were, because no one in this county would.

After shaking the selection committee’s hands and thanking them all, he wandered over to see me.

He was brave or stupid, I wasn’t sure which, but then he didn’t know what I knew.

“You do realise the race was over before it began.”  He was all smiles and shaking my hand for the cameras.

I was all smiles for a different reason.  “Not at first, but I did get a sense of it towards the end.”

“You didn’t seem to be all that well-liked.”

No.  I got that.  Alfred Knopper, next door neighbour and staunch enemy when I won the council election over him, was on the committee.

I should have tried harder to win him over.

“Happens in small towns.  You can’t please everyone all of the time.  You will discover that. “

“I’m sure I won’t.  I understood the brief.”

I smiled.  “I hope you do.”

I could see Evelyn coming over, and so could he.  Her face was set, and I could feel the heat from where I was standing.  So he could and excused himself.

Her eyes followed him as he retreated.

“Snake.”

“He’s the one they deserve.”

“No one deserves a creature like that.”

I shrugged.  “Well, like him or lump him, he’s all they’ve got.”

Until he cashed the check.

A week is a long time in politics, or so I was told the first time I ran for council.

I didn’t want to, but a lot of people said that it was time for a change.

I rode the crest of that wave of change for three terms, after which those same people voted for another change.  It didn’t bother me. I had tried to be fair and equitable, but not everybody’s definition of those words was the same.

I tried to please all of the people all of the time and failed miserably.

We lived in a different world from the one I thought I knew.

It was time to move on, and the plans Evelyn and I had made a few months before, plan B, were in motion.  The children had moved on.  We had sold the house, where I had lived my whole life and my father before me.

All I was waiting for was…

…

The phone rang, its shrill insistence penetrating the fog of sleep, and only years of training forced me to answer it.

“Yes.”

“He’s gone.”  Jason McMaster sounded panicked.

“Who has gone?”

“McGurk.  Office cleaned out, residence as clean as the day he walked into it.”

McMaster had been very generous in giving him the house rent-free until he was settled.

“The funding.”

Silence.  Then, “It’s not in the corporate account.”

Of course not.

“It was transferred to a Cayman Islands bank.”

“You called them?”

“Transferred to a JN Corporation, a shell company.  It’s going to take an army of forensic accountants to find it, and McGurk, if that’s his real name.”

It wasn’t, but I wasn’t going to tell him that.

“Why are you telling me?”

“The selection committee asked me to ask you to come back and maintain continuity while we sort this mess out.”

“Too late.  I’m off on holiday this morning.  Time to take a break from everything.”

“Then in a few weeks, when you get back.  We’ll talk.”

“Can’t.  Not coming back.  Not getting the award settled a few things for me, and the main one was our future.  Twelve months in a cottage in Tuscany and then, well, who knows.  Have a nice life, Jason.”

I hung up.

Evelyn rolled over. “McGurk?”

“Not at the office for his first day.”

“Jason?”

“Nearly hysterical.  He went to the house, and there’s no sign he had ever been there.”

“McGurk wasn’t.  He’s been dead since the day after he was born, but Michael Oliphant, that’s a different story.”

“Is that his real name?”

“So Viktor told me.  Took three days, but he broke him.  They all break eventually.”

“And the money.”

“It’ll be in Geneva by the time we get there.  Now, come back to bed.”

…

©  Charles Heath  2025-2026

N is for – Never trust those nice guys

…

If something is too good to be true, then it generally is.  Those words bounced around in my head only moments after the winner of the award had been announced.

And it wasn’t me.  I had worked hard, done everything that was asked of me, and yet at the eleventh hour, I had been usurped

Of course, I had only myself to blame.

Some other words that rattled around in what could probably now be called an empty space, because no sane person would have believed that McGurk was a worthy recipient, were good guys come last.

They did.

I have been too trusting.

I wanted to believe that McGurk honestly wanted to help me win, but all the time, he was getting the information needed to win the award for himself.

After all, the prize was worth a million pounds.

And he was never going to stay long enough to show them anything for the money.  The proposal was slick, the pitch was slick, and the man himself was slick personified.

However, one item I did know about him was that he had done this before.  A number of times, and after each success, he disappeared with the money and wasn’t seen again.

It was exactly what he would do this time if we let him.

Everyone was also oblivious to the deception.  He was far too affable, far too obliging, far too kind.  And too accommodating.  He was everybody’s friend.

Except mine.

Jason McMaster, the head of the selection committee, came over to offer his commiserations.

“Sorry, old boy,” he began, “but it was a close call, 4 to 5.  You put in a brilliant prospectus, but the numbers didn’t quite add up.”

No, they didn’t do, they.  I noticed far too late that someone had slipped in a revised budget, and it had the look of a grade six student’s horrible attempt to balance a small budget.

I had tried to fix it, but the committee decided the submissions would be as is, where is.  I knew McGurk had a hand in getting those papers, and I was sure it was someone on the selection team who helped him. Without proof, I was not going to change the result.

At least one of the members dared to tell me what had happened and not be shocked on the night.

Evelyn had worked as hard as I had, and it seemed to me he had not approached her.  Perhaps she would have seen him for what he was.  More than once, she told me to be wary.

Like I said, it was on me.

…

McGurk was in his element, the centre of attention, soaking up the adulation as the man who had beaten the sure thing.

Some people didn’t like me, not many, because what they mistook for determination was really the desire to be fair and equitable.

His acceptance speech was the sort to be expected, praising the competition, acknowledging the help I’d given him, and stating that he was going to make a lot of people’s futures much brighter.

I was not sure who those people were, because no one in this county would.

After shaking the selection committee’s hands and thanking them all, he wandered over to see me.

He was brave or stupid, I wasn’t sure which, but then he didn’t know what I knew.

“You do realise the race was over before it began.”  He was all smiles and shaking my hand for the cameras.

I was all smiles for a different reason.  “Not at first, but I did get a sense of it towards the end.”

“You didn’t seem to be all that well-liked.”

No.  I got that.  Alfred Knopper, next door neighbour and staunch enemy when I won the council election over him, was on the committee.

I should have tried harder to win him over.

“Happens in small towns.  You can’t please everyone all of the time.  You will discover that. “

“I’m sure I won’t.  I understood the brief.”

I smiled.  “I hope you do.”

I could see Evelyn coming over, and so could he.  Her face was set, and I could feel the heat from where I was standing.  So he could and excused himself.

Her eyes followed him as he retreated.

“Snake.”

“He’s the one they deserve.”

“No one deserves a creature like that.”

I shrugged.  “Well, like him or lump him, he’s all they’ve got.”

Until he cashed the check.

A week is a long time in politics, or so I was told the first time I ran for council.

I didn’t want to, but a lot of people said that it was time for a change.

I rode the crest of that wave of change for three terms, after which those same people voted for another change.  It didn’t bother me. I had tried to be fair and equitable, but not everybody’s definition of those words was the same.

I tried to please all of the people all of the time and failed miserably.

We lived in a different world from the one I thought I knew.

It was time to move on, and the plans Evelyn and I had made a few months before, plan B, were in motion.  The children had moved on.  We had sold the house, where I had lived my whole life and my father before me.

All I was waiting for was…

…

The phone rang, its shrill insistence penetrating the fog of sleep, and only years of training forced me to answer it.

“Yes.”

“He’s gone.”  Jason McMaster sounded panicked.

“Who has gone?”

“McGurk.  Office cleaned out, residence as clean as the day he walked into it.”

McMaster had been very generous in giving him the house rent-free until he was settled.

“The funding.”

Silence.  Then, “It’s not in the corporate account.”

Of course not.

“It was transferred to a Cayman Islands bank.”

“You called them?”

“Transferred to a JN Corporation, a shell company.  It’s going to take an army of forensic accountants to find it, and McGurk, if that’s his real name.”

It wasn’t, but I wasn’t going to tell him that.

“Why are you telling me?”

“The selection committee asked me to ask you to come back and maintain continuity while we sort this mess out.”

“Too late.  I’m off on holiday this morning.  Time to take a break from everything.”

“Then in a few weeks, when you get back.  We’ll talk.”

“Can’t.  Not coming back.  Not getting the award settled a few things for me, and the main one was our future.  Twelve months in a cottage in Tuscany and then, well, who knows.  Have a nice life, Jason.”

I hung up.

Evelyn rolled over. “McGurk?”

“Not at the office for his first day.”

“Jason?”

“Nearly hysterical.  He went to the house, and there’s no sign he had ever been there.”

“McGurk wasn’t.  He’s been dead since the day after he was born, but Michael Oliphant, that’s a different story.”

“Is that his real name?”

“So Viktor told me.  Took three days, but he broke him.  They all break eventually.”

“And the money.”

“It’ll be in Geneva by the time we get there.  Now, come back to bed.”

…

©  Charles Heath  2025-2026