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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