Positivity (ch26)

           start of  ***POSITIVITY***

👴Something was on his mind again. She sensed it shortly after the day had begun as they were planting seasonal flowers into pots on the balcony. Their time spent together was on the increase now her woodwork course had finished, and he had cut his work into a three-day week.  Not that she needed that extra time to get to know him better, she was pretty much an expert of his soul now.  Yet, she had seen him urgently scraping dirt out from under his fingernails with a file and hurrying it back into his pocket. That obsession had lessened and disappeared over the months, and it bothered her to see its return. The indication that all wasn't well was slowly turning into concern, but she wouldn't push it - them 'ickle flowers needed her meantime. 

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Snuggling against him - wrapped in post-sexual unity - Saskia always enjoyed the repose afterwards as Neil usually delivered some drollery as to how breathless he could be after their energetic stints. But instead he lay holding her in silence; very unlike him. She moved down a bit, taking her head from his shoulder to rest on his chest, and pressed down firm. 

   'What are you doing, Saskia?'  

  She attempted to start the light-hearted stuff off by mentioning the pace of his heart. 'God, that's galloping!' she said, using her ear as a stethoscope. 'We must have gave it some oomph.'

    He gave no riposte, and took a bit longer to reply. 'In a guy my age, I guess it's a blessing that it's still beating afterwards,' he said, well bereft of the teasing tone she expected. 

    'What? Bit of an odd thing for you to say.'

    'Is it?'

    'Of course it is. You know I'm just teasing, don't you?'

    'I know.'

   She suddenly froze. 'There isn't anything I should know about, is there?' she asked, not brave enough to look at him for his answer.

    'No. Why?' 

    'Because you sound as if you're writing yourself off here.' she said with a nervous laugh. 'Are you sure you're okay?'

    'Aye... aye, I'm okay, sweetheart, a little out of sorts, perhaps.'

    'What like, feeling under par or something... and that's not a golfing joke, I'm serious!'

    'Ill? No, not that. I just feel I'm, well, not much cop at times.'

    The comfort-fingertip she was tracing round the very few hairs between his nipples and up and around his thorax halted its course. 'Sorry, I'm lost. I don't know what you mean.'

    'I wasn't very...' he sighed, a bit fazed at how to express himself properly.  'You would let me know if you weren't happy with... anything, wouldn't you?'

    She upped herself on an elbow to look at him. 'What in God's name would I be unhappy about?' 

    He fell quiet for a bit again.

    'Just tell me... '

    'Saskia, you're thirty years younger than me, and I'm not quite as red-blooded as I once was.' 

    'And?' she demurred, with the slightest fear he may be trying to call it quits; some conscience or other finally getting to him. 'What do you mean, that I'm not satisfied... or think you're past it... or what?'

    He didn't address the question but came out with; 'You're so beautiful.'

  Now it was her own heartbeat's turn to wallop. Dreading his next words would start with a but, she gave them no chance to formulate. Sitting fully upright, arms hugging knees, she made her demand: 'Right, Raptor - spill! You've been unusually quiet and distant today - what's on your mind?'

    Sighing, he sat upright. 'I've had quite a rough night, struggled to get to sleep. Got a late call saying a friend I often played golf with was rushed to hospital. He died early this morning.'

    The words, thank fuck formed ashamedly in her head, putting any menacing fear she had to instant rest. 'Aw, Dad. I'm so sorry. Why didn't you say?'

    'Och, you never knew the man, Saskia. I've been trying not to let it spoil our day, but it was a bit of a shock.'

    'What happened?' she asked tentatively.

    'Heart attack. Hit the deck like a ton of bricks. Fifty-five.'

    'Bloody hell,' she said - rather unhelpfully.

    Attending funerals was something that increased with age, but losing this friend gave him sudden grounds to question his own longevity, how his own demise would come about. Choosing the right roads into old age is important, has a bigger bearing than simply what the milometer reads. Neil knew all this, and took rather good care of himself.  Dodging death long enough to get really wrinkly is fuelled on a made it to another day celebration for simply waking up of a morning. So while thoughts of his time coming to an end weren't quite giving him the screaming abdabs, he now had Saskia and their obfuscated tangle to consider in these latter years.

    'I'd dread to think where it would leave you now if the same happened to me, ' he openly admitted, imagining the fear Beverly must have felt at the worst point of her illness.

    His words splintered inside her at the thought. 'Oh, Dad...' she said in a strangled whisper, 'please don't think like that, we've all the time in the world yet.'

    'Have we?' 

    It was harder for someone of advanced years to really feel the same - especially with friends or family dropping like flies. To the young, a man in his late fifties was ancient anyway. While they had their whole lives ahead of them, he had retirement looming.

    'Look,' she sighed, 'you know mum's doing really well now, she's expecting the all clear soon. And we both are always using the gym and the pool here - you're as fit as a fiddle, got first-class medical care, so as long as the pair of you don't peg it on the same day, I'll still have the ruddy other!' She gave him a shoulder bump. 'Okay?'

    'Sure', he gave her a wistful smile.

   'I know your friend's death must be playing on your mind, but it's the other stuff that's a puzzler. Where's all this insecure bollocks coming from?' 

   Part embarrassed, he flung his head back onto the pillow and rubbed his hands over his face. 'I do feel my age with you sometimes, Saskia, plus I kind of pushed you into it there, came onto you.'

   Throwing herself back on the pillow Saskia roared to the ceiling, fingers grasping her hair frustration. Then with a laugh, she rolled on top of him, hands clasped over his chest, chin resting on them. Neil could feel his penis press against her belly. Ten, maybe even just five years ago, he'd be ready for another session this soon. While he probably had had his weekly fill, he worried she may not have.

  'You really are on a roll with this age thing today, aren't you?' she looked him solidly in the eyes. 'Listen to me now, Raptor. You're gonna change as the years pass, of course you are, we all do, but that didn't stop me getting the hots for you.  And so what if you get a few more crinkles, or fingers get a little more crooked, and things head south. Regardless of that, you still feel as warm and protective and alert. It doesn't matter what the packaging's like, or how old and battered the box may be as long as the gift inside pleases you. 

    'And... ' she added - poking him in the chest to make sure he was getting this before rolling off him again to lay straight, 'as for Miss Foo-Foo down there... ' She lifted the duvet and pointed towards her crotch, '... she don't know the difference between old wood and young, but she ain't got no complaints, and she's had some wood in her short time... '

    'Aye, an Amazon Forest's worth... '  

    'Oi!,' she protested, and dug him playfully in the ribs, delighted that his sanguine side seemed to have made a return. 'Cheeky sod!... Actually, you may be right... but, you don't necessarily need skin like suede, or be ripe for the picking to make someone happy. For fuck's sake, stop giving yourself all this hairless hassle, man!'

   'You have a peerless way of putting things, lady, 'cause I've got a full head of hair,' he told her, but still got the loopy gist of what she meant, 'c'mere.' And just when he enfolded her back into his arms for some silent warmth, the garrulous one piped up again;

    'And don't be scared to come onto me, or tell me if you're not up for it. I mean, we're not by any means a typical couple, but you're still my lover and it works both ways.'

    He gave a sigh, 'I know, but I don't want you to ever feel I'm pushing it. I always wanted to take things at your own pace, at your call. That's why I prefer to— '

   'To let me initiate, spark things up, I get it.' She realised this a while ago, and hadn't fully concluded why. Maybe it was the age thing, or just his preferred thing, or maybe it helped to assuage any guilt that she shouldn't be in his bed at all.  'Please don't feel bad just because you needed me today. Adults finds solace in sex, it's what our bits are there for.'

    Neil clasped her to him even tighter. Sometimes her piffle could make ridiculous sense to him. 'I love you,' he needlessly reminded her. 

    'I love me too,' she reminded him. Snuggling even cosier onto his chest, living in this ageless moment, she listened to the contented pound from under his ribs. 'Your heart's beating away as happy as Larry - whoever that bloke is!' She gave a sharp intake of breath and suddenly sat up and looked up at him. 'Your friend wasn't called Larry, was he?' 

    Giving a short laugh, he clarified he wasn't.

    'Good.' She rested her head back down again. 'I could lie like this forever - no cock's included.'

   'Ah, that's good to know!' he said in mock agreement at her inept way of clearing up the shit in his head.

   

So Neil had had a near-tears day. The death of his friend had brought the synapses of his brain into  sentimental overdrive which his sweet, young, near-constant companion helped him through; essentially his tube of nonsensical solvent.

   What he never broached when with her, and always stopped himself from facing though, was all those tucked away fears and facts. And if any tried to surface, all he had to do was remind himself that they were made of skin, bone and feelings just as everyone else. Wasn't that what always she said? And under the guise of a safe and sane father and daughter, all they had to do was live their lives on the outside world's terms, so what did it matter if  they shared concerns and a bloodline indoors? It was strictly their business. Wasn't it?

           end of  ***POSITIVITY***

 

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Horizontal Twist

      start of  ***HORIZONTAL  TWIST***

🍜The last thing he needed to come home to was disarray. His mind was already cluttered by the goings-on of an awkward client backing out of a deal that he knew could make a reasonable profit. The loss, of course, not paramount to the company, but he hated being messed with. Even after a fine dining  meal (often used in the business as a softening tool), he waited until during dessert to politely tell Neil to stick it. Neil told him back that he hoped he choked on the fucker as he angrily left the table; the bastard client had no intention of signing  a deal half an hour into discussions.

Saskia had let herself in at half past one - two hours earlier than she said she'd planned - with a whole new deal-for-the-day that smelled of PJ's, (her mini heart-stamped ones) snacks, and whatever else alcohol brought about. No longer did she desire to go see that boring new film with him (she let him have his way sometimes!) and instead put another slant on its cancellation by staying home. She got a sudden shock when she heard his key in the door.

   'No, no, no!' she squawked at him. 'What are you doing home now?'

   He rooted himself as he noticed her there in the kitchen-space, a metal tray on the worktop with marshmallows capped in brown aboard, with a trail of melted chocolate travelling back and forth from a bowl; over the hob, the counter, and her mouth. He was - gradually - getting used to the general clutter that came with her - something rectified fairly easily - but burnt in stains and opened drawers, jars and packets, and the shamble just tipped him over the pissed-about weariness edge. 

   'What's all this?'

   'Chocolate mallows... ' she said, slowly raising the spoon and licking off a big drip that was forming. For the first time she could almost physically feel how irked he'd become. 'You're always telling me I should learn to cook.'
   Disparagingly he shook a slow, unhappy head.  'I'm going for a shower, please sort out this mess by the time I'm out.' 

   Saskia fought the urge to tell him to piss off, it was no big deal; a rub with a Brillo pad and ta-da...  there you go!'

   Hoping that the foamy promises of his stress-relief shower gel lived up to its claim, she waited until she heard the water turn off, then the zip of the shower curtain being pulled back, before her head appeared round the bathroom door (as if it were on a stick), startling him a little. Seeking a truce, she laid his folded shorts and tee-shirt nightwear on top of the towel rack.

   'Just thought you might need these,' she said in a small voice, and left him be - thinking it wise to perhaps make an attempt at tidying, at least, the kitchen.

   Appearing from the bathroom doing that wet hair and towel thing, she hoped any irascibleness wasn't still lurking under that wet mop. He looked disgruntled yet, but was wearing his PJ's nonetheless, and came to join her in the kitchen.

   'Put that scrubber, down,' he told her, taking it from her and throwing it into the sink. 'Sorry for the grumpiness, I've had a shit day.'

   'S'alright,' she sighed, drying her hands. 'It would have been all cleaned away had you come home when you were supposed to and you'd have been none the wiser... want one?' She turned and held out a sticky glob of pink and brown with her fingers and he accepted it. 'Good?'

    'Ah... eaten worse,' he opined as he chewed away. Saskia  punched him playfully in the stomach, and it felt good to see his smile slotting back into place. 'Not had any lunch yet, suppose I could teach you to cook food properly - or in your case, cook proper food!' 

    'Could do,' she agreed, holding out a bottle of beer to him. 'What were you thinking?'

    'That I'm in for a hard time.'

    And he more or less was. Despite working in the food industry, the furthest the little tea shop that she worked in went to, by way of hot food, was toasties and soup of the day; provided by outside caterers or from her mum's friend's kitchen. Saskia mostly served or thrown-together sandwiches, if need be. And she'd mentioned that it was her grampa and mother who cooked at home. If left to her, she'd happily survive on cereal and sandwiches, so trying to get her into some easy recipe that included one uncomplicated wok was proving to be challenging; even the preparation.

   'Bloody Nora!' she exclaimed (a saying of her Grampa's that still carried with her), as she struggled to get a lid off a jar of paste. 

   'Can't you manage?'   

   'No. You'd need a ruddy degree from Oxford to learn how to open that!' 

  'Give it here..' Neil twisted it open first time.  Heedless of instructions, it wasn't too long before she was sucking on a burnt fingertip and he decided to take the wok from her but encouraged her to observe.  However, any tutoring was being rudely snubbed as she hummed and assented behind him, trying to fool him into thinking she was paying attention, when in reality she was swiping away on her phone. On discovering this, he nabbed it from her and tossed it quite a fair distance onto the settee, under a huge gasp from her. 

    'What are you doing!' she protested.

    'Jesus Christ, lady, you're supposed to be learning something here.'  As endearing as taking an interest in one of his passions would have pleased him, deep down he knew the quest to ever see her beside some simmering pot was overestimating her desire to ever want to. Chocolate mallow-making was perhaps the extent her abilities wanted to go. No one can truly shake off childhood, he concluded. Gourmet was a thing strictly for adulthood. 'Look, this is almost ready. Get out two bowls and two wine glasses, we can eat at the bar... I'll not book you in for any more classes.'

   'Got out of that one, Scotsman free,' she cheekily quipped, crackling with energy like the wok she'd managed to sunder from.

   'And don't think for one second of picking that bloody phone back up,' he ordered as he faced the hob again, 'we're about to eat.'

   'I won't... I love it when you're all daddy-like with me... '

   He turned and gave her a look.

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Needless to say - or for him to inquire - that their cinema outing was now was a no-goer, instead she'd planned an in-bed movie at some point. If they'd be focused enough to enjoy it was a different matter.

    Bowls pushed aside, playing cards taking up the space, she shuffled the pack and dealt while giving instructions for booze-based Pontoon.    

    'So, it's the loser that necks the shot, then?' Neil queried. 'Seems a bit au contraire.'

    'Speak English, Dad.'

    'Different, off beat. Usually winners get rewarded.'

    She sighed. 'Are you sticking or twisting?'  

    Three times in a row Saskia lost before his own first defeat, and near gagged the second he'd downed his shot. 'Ugh! The chuffing stuff tastes like bloody Benylin!' he said, slamming the mini-glass down with a clunk.

    'Like what?' she frowned.

    'Oh, just this chesty cough syrup my mother used to pour down my throat every winter as a boy.' 

    Saskia gave a tender smile at hearing this as his mother didn't feature in his narrative too often. As for the Jagerbombs  - which she'd pre-bought - he wished her the win with every hand, but refused to cheat and kept swigging the chuffing stuff nonetheless. An hour and a half later he called it a day as her losing streak tripped into alcohol-induced profanities; thank God she was never this lavatorial elsewhere. So far.

         

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Despite the buzz in his ears, Neil reckoned he was sober enough for some laptop work. With this taken care of, he might even take tomorrow morning off. The bored and petulant child in Saskia, however, had other ideas. Not satisfied with eyes glued to her phone for a miraculous change, and rain keeping her from the balcony, her impatience grew to attention-intervention; starting with aimlessly bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet, humming random tunes while hitting him constantly with are-you-finished-yets. Pillows and cushions went everywhere, hairbands pinged at him, and so far he seemed to be impressively unbothered by her antics. But she was, by temperament, designed for fun and upped her game to bouncing right next to him; knees bent and arse stuck out, as he tried to type. That did the trick. 

   Snapping his laptop shut and pushing it to the middle of the table, he made a grab for her which she dodged by flying off the settee with him in chase. Despite his insatiable love for her, she'd still ruined his castle and Neil Balfour didn't like it one bit. He nabbed her flat on the bed, holding her by the wrists above her head and looked down at her with disdain, feeling more than hacked off.

    Raising her hips, she brushed her genitals across his, unchaste by his impulsive response.  This wasn't her usual signal when she required him, not the gentle lead up to it he'd come to recognise. Held in such dominant form turned Saskia on, so she thought she'd try to make him play harder, struggle free, but his full weight dropped on her, keeping her there. She responded eagerly. 

'You do my head in, girl, d'you know that?' he said in between breaths, after the whole five-minute event was over.

    'Try my best,' she smirked, slipping the bottom half of her nightclothes back on.

    He gave her a wry smile and shook his head lightly, not sure if those kind of five minutes would ever happen again. Sometimes all it took was a slight stroke of his thigh for slow tension to build, not even making it to bed. Sometimes one would fall asleep before the other on the sofa, then feel the warmth of a body snuggling in at some point through the night. So he'd surprised himself to find a rampant side still left in him, although it was pretty much out of his comfort zone these days. Now he struggled with the fact that his bed felt empty on the nights she wasn't there, and the luxury of all that space he once enjoyed felt oppressive. 

   With sudden hoo-hah, Saskia leapt from the bed, and boosted back with the bottle of champagne she sneakily had hidden in the back of the fridge, two flutes and unnecessary snacks. 

   'Okay... what film should we watch?' she asked him, lolling across his bare chest, stretching fully for the controls in his bedside cabinet as he was trying his best to pour the drink into the glasses.

   'Have I got a say in it, then?' he said derisively as she pressed the button to raise the flat screen that built into the framework at the foot of the bed - something he rarely used but she was taken with. 

    'Sure!' she said with soundness that only lasted a few seconds. 'Actually, I fancy a horror film.'

    'Och!' Neil cast his eyes to the ceiling. 'Go on, then, just make sure it's more spooky than gory.'

After 15 minutes they agreed upon - with as much false enthusiasm as he could muster - some shit or other; she was so indecisive.  Curtains drawn (by button command) their faces patterned with the flickering actions of the TV screen. Necking sparkling after sparkling glass to help him watch along, he took delight in waiting for a tense bit before before grasping her thigh and shrieking. On reflex response, she slapped his shoulder and called him a bastard; giving him the glory of goading her for the name she'd just called him. 

   Unable to connect with this banal shit-flick, Neil started to throw peanuts towards an empty beer bottle (champagne now arsed) left on a nearby cabinet, and within a couple of minutes the film was forgotten; taking just over ten minutes for him to pop a nut down that glass neck, they both gave a huge drunken cheer at his success. Nut's everywhere, his place really was in an unrecognisable, shambolic state - about as bad as a party of people would leave. But for the moment the drunken old bum cared not a jot. Rather incredulous from this non-shifting, house-proud turgid.  

   Saskia didn't bother to reconnect with the film, instead her amorous side was starting to creep back. But Neil managed to put her advances on hold; intemperance having a meantime say in the matter. It was bliss just shutting out the world - no exits or entries other than them - and holding her as a welcomed sleep washed over them. But that bliss was about to be burst-in on by a forgotten regular.

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Valerie gave Martin at the concierge-desk the usual hello, as she made her way in. In the lift up to the top floor, she wondered what delights would be in Saskia's bedroom this time. Initially, she had questioned the age of her by the debris from her first ever visit there. No doubt there would be washing and ironing awaiting - often having her cause to sniff the garment to discern which was which.  It wasn't the sight of Saskia's bedroom that would cause the most alarm tonight though.

   After letting herself in with her set of keys, the portly charwoman gave an, 'Oi, Oi, Oi,' as her eyes scanned the flat. At first she didn't notice them as she pottered about sorting the mess, but further along the apartment, her eyes locked on a sight that totally threw her.  Father and grown daughter asleep together in the same bed was shocking enough, but the lack of clothes and position they'd glued themselves together in in their drunken slumber, had hands and heads resting in unseemly places. 

    In a panic, she retreated outside still not believing what she'd just witnessed. As much as she tried to convince herself this might be something she'd just mistakenly deduced, the amount of bare skin exposed suggested otherwise. More than simply watching a film had gone on there. Besides - why watch a smaller screen when there was a huge TV in a more than comfortable area for such? No, no. This was far too luculent for her to be wrong.

    Stuck in such a quandary was awful. Instinct wanted her to flee, pretend it never happened, but blind duty kept her there. She needed the wages, and hovering about outside the lift was getting her nowhere. She could knock loudly, or phone in the hope of waking them and pretend she'd simply forgotten her key; let them take it from there. Or she could leave it half an hour and try again in the hope that they'd both be awake by then. Either way, she wasn't sure she could even look them in the eye. Foda. She needed to leave the building. Concierge could notice her hanging about in the hallway at any second and intervene if they felt there may be a problem.

   Valerie marched straight past young Martin on the way out; he simply assumed that her service wasn't needed after all and she was miffed at it. Still not knowing what to do for the best, she knew she had to think fast and by the time she'd walked the length of her cigarette, she decided to leave a text message:

 

Good evening, Mr. Balfour.  I am sorry but I'm not going to manage my shift tonight as one of the grand-kids has taken ill and needs me.  I can manage the same time tomorrow night instead if that's okay with you? 

That would at least give her 24 hours before having to face anyone. She just thanked God that tonight she didn't bring company along; sometimes she had no choice but to bring a very well-behaved grandchild with her. Imaging having to explain that one.

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A few short hours later they rose from bed, Saskia felt, by contrast, hungover the night before the morning after. Downing tons of water, she was trying to quell this sick feeling by making herself some dry toast. Asking if he needed the same, she looked up when he didn't answer.

    'Dad? Toast?' she asked again and watch him throw down his phone on the couch next to him.

    'Thank fuck!' he said.

    'What's up?' she queried, though not really caring as her head felt it was being knocked at by a bunch of hammers.

    'Just got a text from Valerie. Forgot she was supposed to be cleaning the flat tonight while we were at the cinema, didn't we?'

    She ceased the crunching on her butterless toast and felt her heart speed up a little. 'What's it say?'

    'She's just apologising for not being able to make it tonight, sick grandkid or something.'

    Both of them stared at the other, stunned into silence for the moment.  They thanked fate for now, but needed to return to bed. The full impact of this careless slip would most likely hit home harder come the clearer-headed morning.

    As they curled back together under the duvet, Neil hated the feeling of having been that lax, considering this a close one. He'd need to shave a little more thoroughly in future, though. Any closer and tonight's razor could have left one hell of a nasty nick.

     end of  ***HORIZONTAL  TWIST***

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Tear For Affairs (ch 24)

                    ***TEARS  FOR  AFFAIRS***

💧 The day of January 4th came after its predecessors had dragged their hours into what felt like months getting there. Having arranged with Neil to pick him up at Heathrow (giving Marcus an extra festive day off), Saskia had been checking the monitors nearly every minute since the flight had touched down to find out what gate he would be coming through. 

  Inspecting her face in her hand mirror, (yet again) she was making sure all remaining bruising was still muted under her layer of foundation; thankful that she had been quick with the trusted old bag-of-frozen-peas in reducing the swelling of her lips.

  For the past few days she had practiced in her mind to stick with the champagne-cork story in case he pressed her on it again. And although her mum had apologised for such a vile and violent act, Saskia had been part-relieved at her auntie Corrine's visit, feeling safer with someone else present. That anger had been bad enough whilst sober and she shuddered to think of an even worse outcome had she been annihilated; her mother tended to drink harder over the festive period.

He finally showed up. She had imagined him to have a darker complexion, but his face was just as pale and wan as the winter.

  Forgetting for a moment that he'd travelled with a friend, the urge to run straight to him had to be restrained in light of social decorum. Jumping on him and wrapping her legs round his waist would not be fitting for welcoming any father back home, but it didn't stop her envisioning it. A simple hug came first, then a brief introduction to his friend, finishing with a well-behaved walk to her car. The friend, Vince, would be heading back with them to Neil's apartment for breakfast, and to pick up his car. 

   They chattered over the breakfast bar, but Saskia sat like an agreeable nodding dog, not taking in one bloody word of it, just mentally shooing this Vince out the door. And once Vince set upon his journey home, she set upon Neil the very second the door clicked shut. As he turned, she took a lunge at him, trapping him against the door to crush her lips to his, seeking quick reciprocation.

    'Whoa! Give me a chance to settle in...' he said, once he unplugged her lips from his by jocosely pushing her from him.

    'I'm sorry,' she said, 'I just mega-missed you like crazy.'

    Arms wrapped genteelly around her, and he closed his eyes to breathe in her scent, happy to be feeling her soft cheek on his. 'I mega-missed you, too.'

    'That was a long ten days.' she stated. She had been irrationally fearing he might have had some kind of change of heart (or come to his senses) while away.

    'I know. I'll not bore you with even more golf and stuff, so coffee in bed?' he suggested to her surprise and elation; it gave her blessed relief to know that tumultuous-but-glorious night they last spent together wouldn't be ending as a one-off sweet memory.

   'Really? God, that was easy!' she smiled up at him. 'I'll just, ah... ' Wrinkling her nose up, she thumbed towards the bed and headed its way.   

   'I'm acting barista again, then, am I?' he called after her. 'What about my jet lag... ?

   'Don't forget the extra cream... ' 

   'Aye, aye. Welcome home, Neil!' he grumbled to himself, before dutifully making and carrying the cappuccinos over.

Despite her young body having hankered for him, his fourteen hours of travelling left him exhausted. She watched, with amusement, as he started dozing off, still sitting up; coffee starting to waver about. Sneaking round to his side of the bed, she carefully withdrew the near-full cup from his hands, rousing him briefly till he found himself a comfortable position. Within an hour of reaching home, sleep - and not her - had been the winning contender. And it didn't help that he slept for eighteen hours straight, either; having a 58-year-old in one's love-life could be tested when a younger libido demands. Thank goodness she was patient.

Saskia had thirsted so long for the feel of those silky sheets. Laying on her side, having had Neil moulded closely behind her, she, at last, was staring morning straight in the post-coitus eye: damp and dreary London at that moment could not have looked more resplendent. She felt quite sorry for her little guest room, knowing in all likelihood it would become storage space for clothes and disorder.

   Under this exceptional he's home now high, she (just after declaring that she was going to stay in bed all the lazy-day long) swept back the duvet and leapt from bed to the sound of a tune from the radio. With crazy little dance steps, lacking any pattern or order, she made her way to join him at the breakfast bar, singing unmelodious and dreadfully out of tune. 

   Watching her sway towards him, he couldn't help but shake his head at the killing of this catchy, song. 'I know I say it all the time, but here's another reminder... you're mental, you are,' said while sliding her a steamy mug across the counter. 

  She upped with a yup onto a stool, still writhing to the music; a dimple forming on one of Neil's left cheek as he tried not to permit a smile.

   'What?' she protested through a laugh. 'You have to move as you sing to this one... why are you not?'

   'Because I haven't the foggiest idea who it is, maybe?'

   'How could you not know this one?'

   'Saskia, I know I'm a raptor, but I haven't been on the earth long enough to listen to every song ever written!'

   'You really don't know this one?' 

    'Jesus, woman! You can't pop fifty-pee in my mouth and expect any song to come out!'

  With an elbow up on the worktop, chin resting in hand, she stared steadily at him. 'I could sit here. Just like this. Forever and ever,' she sighed. 'Can't believe we'll be back at work tomorrow.'

   'I know, kiddo. Right...' He gave a loud clap of the hands, '... we're going out for breakfast!' 

   A runny-egg roll sounded delectable after ten days of congee. Besides, they hadn't had a proper chat about how their time apart had gone, and food may help calm down her ebullience - or at least help stop her mouth doing overtime for a bit.  But he couldn't help but love her antics. He knew sharing his bed with her incited her adoration to a fresh new level, so a boost of outdoor normality kept up practical importance. For he had had plenty time in Macau to consider even the simplest of risks; no incriminating texts, outdoor terms of endearments, kisses on the mouth and so on. And absolutely no repeats of discarded knickers in his bed (as she had done at the hotel).  It was imperative too, that no menstrual blood be found on his bedsheets, and that bed of hers would need a slept-in appearance before the cleaner was due.

  He was well aware that affairs of the heart could become cumbersome and mission-like, and that a stain in frilly knickers could leave devastating stains elsewhere. Hey-ho              

  

     end of  **TEARS  FOR  AFFAIRS**

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Bruises Shine (ch23)

              Start of  **Bruises Shine**      

🍵  Saskia could hear the two women giggling away in the steam-filled kitchen. They were already on their third bottle of Prosecco, having popped their first cork at nine in the morning, and she was glad to sneak off from their churlish banter: not being much use in the preparation of Christmas dinner, anyhow.  Cutlery, candles and three crackers had been placed on the table and she considered that enough of a contribution. 

   Her face was still smarting from cuts and bruising, and since the combination of opened curtains and a nagging mother drove her from her bed at an unearthly early hour, her hangover-head wasn't letting up much either. Soon as that dried-out turkey and those fart-stink sprouts were forced down, she'd be straight back under that duvet; pudding could sodding-well wait.

    The Skype call from Neil was due in around five minutes and Saskia hoped the connection would hold, she dearly needed to see his face, hear his voice. The notification-signal ran its tune, and from six thousand miles he was before her - sitting there with a rather fetching oriental crown on. Even so, her heart lurched, and before he spoke she could tell he was somewhat squiffed!

    'Saskia! Merry Christmas, darling, it's good to see you.'

    'Hi, Dad!' she beamed. 'What's that on your head, it's very fetching?'

    He tutted. 'Something that Vince plonked on me this morning and warned me not to take off all day.' He had tufts of hair at each ear curling up comically. 

    She giggled. 'Has he had you playing golf in it?'

    'Every year... ah, y'know what? Bets over!' He removed the festive hat and rubbed his hair in a less- ridiculous mess. 'It's getting late now, anyway.' 

    'You're joking! We've not even had dinner yet!'

    'Big time difference.'

    'So, what's the weather like in Macau?' 

    'Fairly warm during the day, but drops rapidly at night.'

    'We got a layer of snow here... not much, mind.'

    'That's good, that's good.'  Hats. Time. Weather. What she really wanted to say was I wish I was in your arms again, under covers, my head on your chest.

    His hand blocked his face for a bit as he tampered with his laptop, shifting its position, the light from his end was blooming and dying. 'Ah, that's better, can see you more clearly now.' 

    'Thanks for the necklace, by the way, Dad.' 

    'It got there in time, then?' It had been sent from China the day he arrived.

    'Got it on.' She swept her hair back to let him see. 'What does the writing say?' she asked, looking down on it while rubbing fingertips over the pendant. He didn't answer, just let the silence grow. 'Dad?' On looking back up, she could tell by the quizzical face that he'd noticed.

    'Sweetheart... what's happened to your mouth?'

    'Oh, it's nothing.'

    'Doesn't look like nothing.' Her bottom lip was still fairly swollen and discoloured. The punt from her mother's boot had also brought up a bruise on her chin. But heavy make-up cleverly hid her black eye or he'd have been more horrified.

    'It was my own stupid fault,' she said, flicking away her account with a hand. 'I got in the way of someone popping a cork at a mate's house Saturday night. Went out for some air in the garden and on my way back indoors managed to find myself right in the line of fire.'

    As she explained her 'misadventure', he watched her fingers worrying a thread in the bedraggled cuff of her sleeve; still traumatised by the truculent attack a few days ago. He picked up on her voice sounding scratchy and broken, and knew she wasn't giving a true version. He wasn't drunk enough not to notice something was amiss, but he was far enough away not to be able to do anything about it; preferring to believe that she'd maybe had a fall (and not a fight) and was too embarrassed to admit it.

    'You sure it doesn't need checking?'

    'Really, it's fine, it just looks worse than it is.' 

    'Okay kiddo... ' He'd leave things at that.

    They fell into festive and bland chit-chat, heedful of any possible background lurkers. And almost at the point of risking a more personal comment to him, the door to her room crashed open and a head peeked round it. 

    'Saskia, honey-bunch, that's dinner about to be served.'  Immediately she swung down her laptop monitor, sending Neil into complete darkness, but still able to hear the connection wasn't cut.  'Wait till you see how thick your mum's sliced the turkey, it's like a size 10 insole!'

   Shouting out that she'd be there in a minute, Saskia waited until she heard the adjacent door to the toilet lock and flapped Neil back into the picture. 'Sorry, she's a ruddy nightmare.'

   'Friend of your mum's?'

   'I wish! No, it's my Auntie Corrine, she got a last minute flight and landed on our doorstep. Christ, she's a pain... thank God she lives in Spain.'  

   Neil had a vague memory of what Beverly's sister looked like - only having been in her company a handful of family-function times. But if memory serves him well, she was a bit of a rebellious nightmare; someone whose very parents were averse to offer shelter to once she'd left home. 

   Corrine flushed and called for Saskia again, so she thought it best to say her goodbye's and follow her aunt downstairs. 'I've got to go,' she stated reluctantly.

   'Of course, sweetheart,  you go enjoy your dinner... I love you.'

   He kissed his fingertips and touched the cold screen with them. There was a huge flip of the tummy this time as she rounded off her goodbye with a guarded, 'I love you, too.'  She'd have to wait until he next got in touch to ask again what her Chinese symbols declare. But and if her research proved correct she was pretty sure it said, Only Us.

The impure developments between him and Saskia still rushed through his mind and he realised there was no point in trying to make sense of it for there wasn't any.  The intrinsic link they had found, with it's underlay of discovery and curiosity had turned to physical attraction; raw nature eventually played into the rush and brought that long absence to a carnal taboo. Some right-minded people would flee the country after an illegal act - he couldn't wait to get home to commit another one. Makes no sense at all.

But he decided that this, sick, loving, twisted, exciting, brutal, desperate, censurable, describe-it-how-they-may love, would only be initiated on her volition no matter how much his insides ravaged. Her adoration for him now clarified the reason as to why this beautiful creature didn't have, or seem to want to have a boyfriend.

    Neil closed his laptop with a weary sigh; missing her so much.  And he now felt certain of another thing - that she was right. He must have been assiduously burying his true feelings for her in the guise of a father. She was his girl in every unforgivable sense of the word now. Blood was the forbidden partition, so it was imperative that neither got cut.

                End of **Bruises Shine **

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Undone CH22

                  **Start of  UNDONE**

👢Neil's eyes opened to deep city-sounds; instantly reminding him where he was. Curled up close behind him, he felt Saskia's warmth on his back. It took a few moments for memories of the night before to form as he stared at his reflection in the dressing table mirror and shame didn't give any introspective stare back. Turning onto his other side to look at her, a twist of hair was rising then tickling her nose with each out breath. Gently, he slipped from the bed, hooking the wayward strand over her ear before heading for a shower. Glitter had passed onto him from Saskia, giving his chest hair festive sparkle, and he felt a bit sorrowful when water washed the sweet reminder off. Ablution could take care of glitter but was ineffective against unlawful acts - despite how glorious the sin.

As she lay soundly, Neil neatened the mess around him before making her coffee. He'd already been in his room to gather his things and done as much as possible here for her too. Sitting on the edge of the bed, cup in hand, he shook her by the shoulder to rouse her. 
    'Hey, you... rise and shine.'  

    Nothing.

    After another shake, she gave a peeved groan. 'What, already?'

    'Afraid so... '

    Before getting the chance to pass her anything, she gave a sudden-morning wriggle-stretch causing him to stand briskly to keep what little coffee there was inside such teeny cups. Pulling herself to a sitting position, he smiled and bent over her to kiss the top of her head and safely handed over her caffeine boost - accepting it with a coy smile.

    'Thanks. Have you been up long?' she asked, noticing he was already dressed.

    'Long enough... actually we've just got around twenty minutes to vacate our rooms.'

    'Really?' she replied, giving her nose a quick scrunch up. 'Awe, that's a shame... never mind.'

    Neil felt a little flurry rippling across his chest, sure that there was cheeky intent among the sound of her sigh. But given that they were time-limited, he went back into the kitchen area for one last Dolce Gusto, and to help control the pull of taking her once more under those sheets.

    'Hungover at all?' she queried as he made his way to the machine; able yet to see him from the open bedroom door.

    Sticking out his bottom lips, he shrugged. 'Nope.' And nothing else was said. No how are you, no did you sleep well, no boy, you look rough, back; he was functioning too quietly. She was used to his early morning classical radio, (annoying music to rile her groggy head up, before she has the chance to come to) to his rundown on how to make a perfect steadfast breakfast (while slagging off her choice of underage-cereal now adorning his cupboards), to him perusing the paper, adding loud coughs just as she begins to say anything (while pretending not to listen to her). 

   Sitting more upright, she noticed from bed that his bags were sitting right next to the exit door; his coat slung over it sparking unease. But she put doubt aside to remind herself that he always does the mega-organized thing, plus they were pushed for time. As long as he wasn't keen to get out of here and away from the memories of last night; didn't stop the wary churn in her stomach, though. But he was being unusually quiet, shuffling about shiftily, making no effort to converse, and this very pregnant pause (where she was deliberately keeping silent to see how long it would take him to initiate speech) only added concern to the detached demeanor. She knew by his slow, stilted pace alone that something big was on his mind. 

                                      Dear God, don't let it be regret. 

    He'd promised that wasn't going to happen, but she still fretted.

    'Ah, listen, Saski... I don't know how you're gonnae feel about this, but... ' 

                             Here it comes, here it comes, she told herself.

   '... I'd like to drive you straight home myself, and maybe pop in to wish your mum a Merry Christmas?'

   It took a few moments before she reacted, he'd caught her off guard. 'Wow!' she said wide-eyed, shocked by his words but relieved they weren't the one's she'd feared.  'Really?'

   'Aye.' he answered, bemused by the discombobulated expression on her face and tried to jape away any doubt she may have; 'I can remember she used to be a little bit thorny at times, but I'm presuming I'll still keep my head on.'

   Saskia smiled at this; it would be swift decapitation if her mother knew about them, and that gave her a sudden, undisclosed thrill. 'Are you sure about this, Dad?'

   'Been thinking about it for a while. I'd like to, Saskia, but only if you're okay with it yourself.'  Neil supposed it must be rather awkward for her to picture her parents under the same roof for niceties (despite being nowhere near as unseemly as picturing a father and daughter in the same bed). As she ummed and ahhed some more, he held his hands palms up to face her.  'Promise we won't become besties or anything, just a quick hello.' 

    So he was that brazen; willing to face a mother whose daughter he'd just violated? That gave her another quick buzz. 'Okay then.' She grinned at his promise. 'What harm could a few minutes bring, it is Christmas and all that bollocks, I suppose.'

    'Nice way of putting it, but good... although there is one more thing I hope she'll be okay with.'
    Saskia froze a little. 'Okay, what have you done?' she asked nervously, holding him in an accusatory stare. She knew him well enough now to know when his voice carried conscience, and that her mum's fly-off-the-handle moods were getting tougher these days.
    'I forwarded some money to the hospital dealing with your mum's breast cancer and asked them to distribute the money accordingly. Left an email saying that I was a friend of hers.'
    Colour drained instantly from Saskia's face and her shoulders sunk back into her pillows. This generous gesture seemed to bring about an opposite reaction to the one he was expecting.

    'Shit,' he grimaced, 'is that alright? She won't think that I'm interfering or anything?'

    'How much?'
    'Fifty grand.'
    'Fifty?' she whispered aghast. 'Jeez!' Her eyes flitted all over the room, as she appeared even more stunned.

    'Ah... I've gone overboard, haven't I? She doesn't have to know about it, I could mail them again and ask to be kept an anonymous donator?  Och, I should have talked it over with you first.'

    'Well, at least I know why you've been acting a bit odd this past wee while.'

    'I know, but as you say... it is Christmas and all that bollocks... '

    She clicked her tongue and shot him a look; at least the teasing had returned. ' Fifty grand though? I get giddy just saying it... '

    'Well, it's done now, kiddo. Look, my standpoint is that I'm a kind of distraction or break from what's happening at home for you, but I know it can't be easy at times and I just wanted to help somehow. Beverly still doesn't need to know if you think that'll be better?.'

   Saskia locked her thoughts into another short-stare as she considered her home life. If only she could tell him exactly what goes on regarding her mother. But she threw on a joyous smile (before she was tempted to tell all and spoil his Christmas) that made him feel better. 'I'm sure the money will help their various charities, I'm really touched you did that. You may have a bob or two, but you don't give yourself enough personal value. You're amazing, Dad, do you know that?' She looked close to tears, silly and sudden ones for a reason he could not, at the time, fathom but assumed may be pride.    

   'Steady on... ' he said, self-effacingly. He didn't want her to put him high on any pedestal, or make him sound unctuous. The amount was peanuts to him, and he threw a party once a year. So what?

  But she held him in a soul-piercing stare. 'And to think I wasn't even sure about you after Mum told me what went on with Grampa and your dad. It could have stopped us meeting at all.'

  Eyes cast downward, he didn't expect to hear that, but Neil noted that she didn't refer to his father in any respective grandparent mode. Having learned the history between the two, he didn't blame her. What she was saying was true; it could have put her off wanting to know him altogether and then where would he be?  'What changed your mind?' he asked, having a sudden urge to know.

    She glanced away for a few moments to consider it. 'Curiosity. Well, that and needing that sense of belonging, I guess. Besides, it was all those years ago and you are still my Dad... '

   Of course, he was unlike like his father. Despite how imperious he may seem at work, kindness shown in other forms helped confirm that. Neil had decided there was nothing to gain from holding on to the past; it is what it is. It was best to simply get on and enjoy his daughter, you can't fight fate. Under this certitude, however, there was that streak of guilt at his father's corrupt means of climbing the pinnacle of success. That had started to resurface with her presence, and he now understood why Saskia had been such a fierce secret all these years.

    '.... plus, I'm ruddy old enough to make my own mind up, aren't I?'

    'You certainly are.' he said, with a hint of misdeed and gave his eyebrows a teasing lift in telling her so. After last night, he was more than sure of that.

    'Anyway,' she continued, before her flutter-gut started up, just to be unacted upon. 'I know Mum was scared I'd be left on my own - parentless. But I ended with the best backup any daughter could wish for. And some... '

    He stared intensely at that face, unsmiling. Fuck, he loved her so much. So overly, overly much.

    'Right,' she said briskly, putting her cup on the bedside unit, and flinging the covers back, 'I had better get a move on.' 

    Carefree of being bare, she crawled for her night slip that Neil had folded at the foot of the bed, slung it over her shoulder as she headed to the en suite. It took a few cold water splashes to the face to settle the edginess she saw in her reflection. She really didn't know how her mum would react to his presence or his kindness; he was regarded as the big bad ogre sometimes. But nothing could mar the defining moment that unfolded for her last night, and of others still to come. It would a week into January before she saw him again and those feelings would be all she had to see her through. Sod it. This was her time now, not her mother's, and she flitted happily back into the room, kissing his cheek before plunking herself next to him - knees tucked under as usual - on the two-seated sofa.

   'Uh... maybe it's time to start getting dressed, Saskia?'
   'Yeah, will do in a minute.' He really was keen to get going, but there was a personal matter at hand  needed to broached, and Saskia was keen to get it dealt with. 'Well... aren't you going to ask, me?'

  'Ask you, what?'           

  'What every man worries about the next morning. It was what I thought your strange quietness was all about this morning, well that and you fucking off and dumping me... '

   'Don't be silly... ' he was quick to allay such a thought.

   'Let's not beat about the bush, then, just get it over with, it's bound to have concerned you?' A certain something needed to be faced, granted, and Neil was intending to do so on the drive to her house, but she wanted it over with now.  'But there's no chance we're gonna have a two-headed baby.' 

   He tutted and gave her a scornful look. 'Is that so?' God, her ways could be seriously incorrigible.  'But you know what I mean, and if you and me - in future - are gonna...' His hand was flicking awkwardly back and forth in a me-to-you motion, ' you know... be together, we'll need to consider—'

   She held her bottom lip in a light, lopsided bite, relishing his babbling. As much as the idea of toying with him during this was tempting, she had to allay any doubts. 

   'Right... ' she said, holding her left arm poker straight, palm facing upwards. She tapped at a point in her inner arm a few inches along from her armpit. '... see that little scar?'

    He peered closer. 'Oh, aye... that wee thing there?'
    'Well, there's an implant under it stopping me from getting pregnant - something I can assure you is not on the cards for a loooooong time, most likely never at all, I'm really not maternal. Nope. I prefer the ones you can return.'

   'But, it's foolproof?'

   'Totally. It lasts five years and I've had it about eighteen months now...  you can press it if you like?' She took Neil's hand and guided a fingertip over for a feel for himself.  'I get reminded after four years that it's potency has a year to go.' 

   'And then?'

   'And then I pop in for a chat with the doctor, tell him I want another one and bingo; one less fear to to encumber my waistline with!' She gripped his hand reassuringly within her own two and rested it on her knee. 'Really, we're fine. There are options anyhow, but I've had no accidents so far, and as hard as it may be to hear - your little angel has had umpteen one night stands.'

  Tipping his gaze to the floor for a bit, he had long worked that one out for himself; it would take a hardcore priest to refuse a night with her. But he felt relieved all the same that protection was in order. Last night there was no thinking time and thankfully no immediate action was required.

  To help wash away the last of his doubts she freed his hand from hers, and placed a reassuring kiss to his lips and every molecule within him, reacting as they must. 

    From this point onwards, they began sorting out their nocuous and incestuous journey, yet it didn't feel like it. Close to an illicit affair, perhaps, but why didn't alarm bells ring like fuck in his ear, or toil in his grey matter telling him to split, to run and never come back? No matter how this love represented itself, he knew it still wouldn't alter its upmost, inescapable fact.

   'What we're doing, Saskia, we know what it is, don't we?'

   'Yes.' she replied, jerking up her chin in bold defiance. 'Ours. That's what it is. Yours and mine. Exactly that.' 

   He gave a slow, gentle smile in acceptance of this as she she placed a palm on his cheek. 'Take it easy, Raptor, just remember I love you.' she said, with her thumb rubbing over his cheek..

   He took her hand from his face and kissed it, hopelessly attuned. 'I love you, too.'  

   It felt sweetly and incurably bizarre how a normal saying had taken on an extra meaning. Everyday I love you's were also repeated under far deeper terms; he'd transmuted to both father and lover overnight. And he was right, it will be scaring him being her lover; she could taste fear on his lips ever so mildly. This she needed to chase that away before he took it abroad with him to fester.

   'Now... ' she chirped, looking at him with a mischievously alluring expression. A mood lightener was  needed and if he was in, he was all in; there was no reason why she and her nonsensical motives should be any easier on him, 'if only you had woken me up ten minutes earlier... ' She leaned and whispered in his ear, '...you could be joining me.'  Shooting off for the quickest shower ever, she left him with his insides stirring; yet another thing to join her growing box of attributes. She was a sexual tease.

   'Don't do this to me girl...' he said out of her earshot, cursing the clock. As much as the thought of her words sweetened the sole, they had no option but to take grasp of their plans for the day; she was expected home soon, and he had to finalise his Christmas plans with his friend. It was going to be a long two weeks.

By the time Saskia had showered and dressed, she tutted and shook her head at Neil when she saw the room in even more orderly shape (curtain pleats tugged and equally spaced, plumped up cushions, glasses washed and put away etc). Needless stuff. He literally must be every maid's ideal guest.

    'Ready to visit your ex, then?' Saskia teased, while Neil simply harrumphed.

    He had just placed their bags outside the doorframe - triggering the automatic lock out function - when he realised Saskia had raced back over to the foot of the bed, feeling frantically under the covers. He gave a what-the-fuck gesture until she held up her knickers, stretching them by the waist, and made them do a little 'dance' for him before tucking them into her pocket with a jocular grin. That girl and her raillery; all he had to do was allow the door to swing shut and she'd need a member of staff to let her out!

   'You do,' he said in absolute agreement with himself, 'you really do do my head in... ' 

   'Well, I couldn't just leave them there, could I?' she said, justifiably. 

   She could have. They'd go arm's length straight in the bin. Anyone finding them would not envision the real story they'd tell. But at least, he reasoned, she hadn't exposed them to him in the corridor where cameras loomed; Christ, they would have to manage their future moves carefully. But as they were heading to the foyer she was smart enough to know that around others she had to be on her best, non-loquacious behaviour around Neil's continuing gentility. 

                               *                                            *                                          *

The journey home was relatively the same; her prattling away in Saskia-psychobabble, Neil smiling throughout it, resisting yet another reminder that he mostly gives her peace to drive. But the one-sided conversing had to drop once he needed help with directions. 

   The deal she had made with her mother was not to get too hungover as they were to meet up with friends for a light lunch and stocking-filler shopping. But a hangover was all that Beverly was expecting Saskia to bring back with her, and nerves kicked in a little bit as to how her mother would react at seeing him, the closer they got to home.

    Driving further into this rather soggy-looking suburbia, Neil customarily clocked the house-types down Furtham Road. Ghastly ones with red roof slates and plastic piping; a vast downsize also since his days of dating Beverly. He wouldn't quite have expected her to live happily in a semi-detached either, when compared to the house she was raised in; its large back garden was this property's saving grace. Everything looked bigger in the photo's from Saskia's album. While cameras are supposed to never lie, they can visually deceive. Inside, however, the décor was fresh, modern and comfortably habitable.

The near-silent engine of Neil's Mercedes-Benz parked up into the drive, and he retrieved a Christmas bouquet they'd stopped off to buy from the rear seat. Once she retrieved her suitcase from the boot, Saskia led Neil round the back and entered the house via the glass patio door.  On hearing the slide from the rails, Beverly headed to the kitchen, struggling with putting in an earring and not aware at first that her daughter had company.

   'Hope you're not too hungover. Senga's having to bring that bloody brat nephew with her to lunch until his dad's home, and you know how he pesters the life out of— '  In startlement at seeing him stood there with Saskia, she let the back of the earring fall to the floor causing the hoop to hang precariously from the lobe. 'Neil... ?' 

    'Hi, Beverly,' he smiled. 

    Her head drew back quickly, as if she didn't quite believe what she was seeing. 'My, my!'

    Nodding towards her, he quite genuinely said, 'You're looking good.' 

    It was true. Her shortish hair had grown back sufficiently; makeup and complexion was rather flattering.
    'Oh, thank you. Yeah, treatment eventually paid off, so I'm on a bit of an even keel for now.'
    'Dad's just popped in to wish you a merry Christmas.' Saskia hurriedly explained, parking herself upon a nearby stool.
    'Oh aye, ah... ' Neil stepped forward and pecked the side of her cheek. 'Merry Christmas, Beverly... ' he said, and took a step back before realising the flowers were still in his hand. 'Oh, these are for you too,' he said. Taking a second step forward to hand over the flowers, Saskia was finding mirth in his gaucherie.

   Beverly gave Saskia a quick glance and managed to muster up a little smile herself.  'Oh that's sweet, but you really shouldn't have.'

    'Hope you like them. Mind you, I did have a little helper in choosing them,' he nodded to Saskia, 

    'Dad!' she protested loudly, 'you're making me sound as if I'm under ten!'

    He gave a deliberate cough into his clutched hand and mumbled a quip that Beverly didn't get. Something covert and making sense only to them as they continued to exchange a string of quips and giggles. 

    'Well, thank you, anyway Neil,' Beverly said, interrupting their tete a tete. paying close attention to the palling up between them. 'I'm guessing it was a good night then?'

    You better believe it, Saskia inwardly said to herself, having to bite her bottom lip harder to keep her thoughts unsullied.  'Amazing night. I'll tell you all about it at lunch.'  Omitting a few details of course. 'Plenty photos.'
    Then a strained silence hung in the room before Beverly broke it. 'Where are my manners! Can I offer you a coffee, Neil?'  She turned and laid the bouquet down gently by the sink. 

    'No, no,' he answered straight back, 'I'll let you get on with your day.' He went over to Saskia and kissed the top of her yet-glittersome hair, then pointed at her. 'I'll Skype you Christmas day, round about noon?'

    'Yeah, got it. Bye Dad'
    With a farewell smile headed Beverly's way, he slid open the patio door he'd entered by and left.

    On his drive home, he felt rather deflated about the length of time he'd be away, despite it usually being the golfing highlight of his year. Letting his mind drift over the events of last night, he gave a fleetingly perverse thought to the fact that he must be one of the few men who had actually (as opposed to that fantasied about) tried both mother and daughter - albeit thirty years apart and not in the same bed. He suddenly berated himself for letting such a thought surface. But still, he must be one of the very few.

           *                 *                *               *                *                *                *                *

Beverly stood with hands on her hips, while Saskia sat almost inanimate on her seat, feeling her mum's fiery glare upon her. She was reluctant to look her in the eye.

   'What the fuck!?'
    Saskia gave an exasperated sigh. 'What was I supposed to do? He just wanted to wish you well, see how you were doing.'

    'Why, for God's sake? Surely you tell him that stuff if he asks?'

    'Maybe he wanted to see for himself.'

    Beverly's face was beginning to glow pink quickly under her makeup. 'But you knew not to... I stressed and better stressed never to bring him here, didn't I?

    'So a two minute drop by is really that hard to deal with, is it?'

    'Yeah, especially one without warning.'

    'It was flung upon me out of the blue, Mum.'

    'A quick phone call could have deterred it.'

    'This is ridiculous, he was hardly here five minutes. I don't know what all the fuss is about.'

    'Oh, don't you? Do you need another reminder then, about—'

    'Christ, Mum, there's no pleasing you, is there?' Saskia slid from the stool to stand face to face, giving her mum the one pivotal fact that she seemed to be forgetting. 'It's you that needs reminding. Me and him is all down to you. You started it. You wanted this!'

    'You know the score, Saskia... '

    This ranting was doing Saskia's brains in. Her mum's ridiculous reaction, with its ever-increasing tone was bringing her post-party headache to throb and pound past bearing point; her newfound happiness and loved-up fuzz being torn at bit by bit. Whatever had gone on in her mother's past to make such hatred spilled, Neil was no ogre; it was unfair of Beverly to disrespect him like that. Take from him his riches and systematic businesslike head, and you'll find a man with flaws and vulnerabilities, humor and decorum, aches and tender spots, too. 

    'Yes, I do, mum.'  And reality suddenly gripped in a harsh reminder of the separate journeys each were undertaking. 'But whatever happened between you both, I can assure you he's not like that now.' 

    Beverly sneered, ridicule pasted all over her face as she slowly shook her head.  'You amaze me at times, Saskia... '

   'For what? Making my own mind up for a change? He's really not that bad a person, Mum.'  Saskia had arrived at that conclusion almost from the off, and right now she would love to sling his huge donation made that morning, straight in her face. But she couldn't. That would only complicate and exacerbate things. Regarding the Neil Balfour she knew, she was increasingly struggling with her mother's verbal destruction of him.

    'Jesus....can you not just listen to yourself!'

    'Listen to myself?' Saskia incredulously shouted back at her, arms gesticulating wildly. 'Well who else do I have, because you never want to listen to anything I've got to say regarding him and you never ask. You threw me at him to just get on with it!'

    A  laugh, loud and bitter, erupted from Beverly,  'Aw, listen to daddy's little girl. It's probably a blessing your Grampa's not here to listen to this!'

    Fuck it, Saskia said to herself. Her grandfather was now being used as a weapon, and she knew by habit that a mention of him was often setting the scene for things to turn ugly. Not wanting to risk that possibility, Saskia made her way to the stairs. 'Sorry Mum, but you'll have to meet Senga yourself today, I'm going to bed.'

    'No you're not,' Beverly tagged directly behind her, 'you're not leaving me on my own with that kid in tow!'

    Stopping on the bottom step, Saskia swung round. 'This'll just get worse if I go... you'll not drop this.'

    'What do you mean?'

    'You're dragging Grampa into things far too often now, it's getting too much.'

    'Too much? You know how he died! So... you're gonna give up on him this quick are you? Or should we just forget he even existed?'

   'Of course not...' Saskia sighed and sat down in frustration onto the stairs, '... but I'm not sure if blame's being sent in the right direction anymore....or should even be there at all.'

   'Really?' Beverly stared wide eyed and slack-jawed at her, and yet again Saskia felt that her words were diffident. She needed to put it to her assertively; as it really is.

   'Mum, I'm fed up with the foul atmosphere in here, I've put up with it for months now. I know it's been a tough time for you, but it's not anybody's fault that Grampa died.'

                        Saskia poked a finger at her mum,

                        'Not your fault.'

                        Then on herself, firmly in the chest;

                        'Not my fault.'

                        Then pointed at the door Neil left through;

                        'And not his fault, okay?'

   The look that Saskia was given in response of her brave, overdue words, robbed her of breath and she froze. 

    'What did you say?' Beverly asked in a quiet snarl, then screamed vehemently, 'WHAT DID YOU FUCKING SAY..!?' Then she erupted.
   An anger to match such contorted, formidable features surged through her and before Saskia had the chance to flee, her mother struck a lightening-fast, fisted blow to her head, followed by a harsh tug of her hair as she tried to stand. Held facedown by the back of her head, Beverly shouted over Saskia's pleas;
    'Don't you dare try to excuse him, it was him and his bastard father that killed your Grampa! Do you fucking hear me?'
    As a terrified and shocked Saskia was trying to beg for release from this inconceivable and apoplectic outburst, she was tasting blood in her mouth by kicks from her mother's boots, all the while ranting her fury. And the instant the kicks stopped, punches pummeled over her head, despite trying her best to shield.  Screams and pleas proved useless, and only when Beverly could manage no more due to exhaustion did she ease up; taking off and leaving Saskia in a crumpled heap. 

   Never before had she been exposed to such brutality from her mum and it scared the living daylights out of her. Where did that violent strength come from? Blood stains and clustered rasps of hair lay thick at the foot of the stairs, but Beverly never gave them a second glance as she ventured out, wearing different earrings.

In a slow and painful crawl on her elbows, she made it to her room. Pulling herself onto her bed, blood still streamed from her nose, so she shook the pillow out of its case and scrunched it to her face. Lowering it a few moments later, she braved a glance in the mirror and sobbed even heartier, each tear begging for Neil. She knew if she called him right now, he would postpone his break. But she couldn't. Just as the revering love for him must be kept secret, just as vitally this beating never happened. 

                   **End of   UNDONE**