The Boy

                     start of **The Boy**

🎢By Tuesday, Neil picked up an edgy atmosphere in the office. His usual morning greeting was met with quieter response and a few coughs during any replies, and within seconds he sensed something was up but carried on with his day, predominantly, like all the others.

From the Wednesday, his usual newspaper purchase from a nearby kiosk was met with an uncharacteristic snide remark from the vendor, that he excused as an off-day, and his morning greeting to his staff was met with less enthusiasm, and more coughing. Interested eyes seemed to follow him around, with swift diversion the second his locked with theirs. Background laughter seemed more incessant and had him jerking his head up time and again. Conversations suddenly stopped when he appeared or passed by, catching up in whisper-form when they thought it earshot safe. Female staff approached him wide-eyes and cautious, male staff a tad more bold - one even chewing the inside of his cheek with a hint of asininity. He tried to pass it off as mild paranoia, but knew the change in atmosphere was ascribable to him.

 And from the Thursday, Jacqueline started to approach him with eerie ambiance, reluctant to look him in the eye, giving mostly one word answers when he was making rationed attempts at nicety.  And when she snickered at something behind her hand at her computer during tea-break with him, his stomach flipped, convinced the scornful laugh was anent to him. Demanding to know what the joke was, on turning her monitor, a picture of her friend's husband in a drunken sleep on his sofa, face covered in make-up from his kids, looked back at him.  He promptly rose from the greenhouse without announcement and left the office, Jaqueline's pleas for him to stop ignored. Something was being spread among the workforce and HE was the subject of it. That he was sure of.

   Someone, somehow, must know - or at least have eaten enough probability fodder to feel emboldened enough to voice presumptions. What was circulating he was unsure of, but it was no doubt flying through the corridors, lingering on lips, possessing every ear. Only certain kinds of calumny met such reactions; this must be heavyweight smear. The door to what he thought might be misplaced paranoia at the start of the week, was now firmly closed.  

   The stories, in whatever form or shape contained in these walls, had no means of escape now, whereas he had. Unconcerned by time, he walked straight to his car.  He would be going home with suspicion wheeling round in his mind. The who's. the why's, the what-the-fuck-is-being said's. His decision was to meet them tomorrow with silence. He was still the boss after all. But everyone now, was under his scrutiny - including Jaqueline. In need of a saving grace, he thirsted for a call from Saskia.

Friday saw a whole different person. No 'good mornings' to anyone as he desk-dodged his way to the greenhouse, drawing all the blinds right away. The immediate tension in the office so thick Jacqueline could taste it at the back of her tongue. She got a disgruntled 'yup' in return for her morning greeting. 

    As he settled in in seconds, with no request for coffee, she was rather shocked at his appearance: his clothes rather crumpled, tie askew, collar open. His face had a grey, tired pallor to it, hair waves even more unruly, and the stubble on his face shadowed gaunt cheeks. All morning he worked with a dogged bitterness and a mind afire with vile imaginings, refusing to rest or succumb to work. It disturbed Jacqueline to see him there, slumped at his desk looking like an unmitigated disaster with hunched shoulder, concentration all to pot. She was trying to muster up the courage to suggest he go home, but was chary of his reaction.  If only she had.  

     Taking an early lunch-break, devoid of hunger, but seeking air, Neil checked his phone. Nothing from Saskia. It was beginning to make him feel antsy about her cutting short their phone calls, now conversing mostly by waited-upon texts.

     Making his way back to the office, his exit from the lift faced him directly with two tie-jobs from another level of the skyscraper heading in, and as the doors were closing he clearly made out: 'That was the dirty old git, that architect bloke.'  

    Their words rooted him, as he stood facing the buttons, finger poised at his floor number. It took him a good few seconds and a prompt from the elevator system to close the doors. Now he knew. This dirty old git had just been delivered the coup de grace in his dinner hour, feeding bloodsucking leeches who gained their midday nourishment through other peoples lives. He needed to know exactly what was being said now it was apparent the rumour was not just office-bound but disseminated through the entire building. The horrible, fundamental trouble was, they were right.

   

Marching indignantly back to his office, throwing a tirade of frustrations under his breath as he went, the second he was through the door he commanded the room to empty, his veneer of respectability slipping like a sheet of melting ice.

     'Everyone...  out!' he told them, loudly. The stern directive seemed to render them dumb, turned them to stone. He'd been on route to blowing steam little by little, day by day. 'OUT!' he bellowed, 'NOW! The fucking lot of you... '   

     In sudden, obedient motions, they grabbed their kit and their coats and faltered out the door, muttering bewilderingly.

     Jacqueline came from the greenhouse. 'What's going on, sir?'

     Neil looked up the corridor until the last worker was out of sight. Swinging shut the door, he turned and walked over to Jacqueline, leading her by the elbow back into the greenhouse. An ugly red flush crept up her neck. The dread of this moment had subsequently come.

     'Tell me what's being said, Jacqueline! What the fuck's going on?' he demanded tempestuously.  

     She just stared at him, feeling the heat start to spread to her cheeks.

     'Come on - you must know!'

     'I... just...I don't... ' She inhaled a huge gulp of air, trying desperately to hold off an answer. 

     'Don't try to say you don't know, I know you do. So come on - what have you heard?' 

     She shook her head as she looked at him, reluctant to repeat the rumour-nastiness. 'Please don't make me do this.' She felt tears looming, utterly conscience-stricken.   

     Neil run a hand through his hair, slinging his jacket tails back to rest hands on hips. 'I'll say it for you, then, shall I, that I'm sleeping with my daughter?' 

     Jacqueline dropped her head, raising a hand to her mouth, she closed her eyes and nodded in assent, although that wasn't quite as delicate as some were putting it.  It felt as stunned a silence as she'd ever felt, the words almost benumbing having come from him himself. It took her a good few moments to meet his eye again. He was in no hurry to veil anything with denial. By the reactions and instances of this past week, others had made their own minds up about them. All of a sudden he had to take a seat, feeling as if his body was falling down a whirlpool. 

     'You don't look good, Mr. Balfour. Why don't you take the rest of the day off? I'll stay on and keep things ticking over.'  Her desperate try at halting this conversation and getting the hell out of here fell wayward. Neil ignored her offer, so she was stuck in a mess; needing to flee as it was excruciatingly painful, and needing to stay through loyalty, care and respect - regardless of the exceptional issues. 

     'Any idea where this all came from,' Neil asked sounding a bit more subdued, and Jacqueline knew now that she had no option but to stay put. She was still at work, after all. 'as we've had the police involved due to this.' 

     'Yes, I'm sorry.' she said, and instantly regretted it. By the way she said it, he now knew that even that had reached the ears of the office walls.  'And just for the record, I know it's all—'

     'What, bullshit?' Neil answered for her. 'Then why didn't you have give me a heads-up, or prior warning.'

     Jaqueline went and sat down at her own desk, and gave a loud sigh, knowing she'd still have to be careful with what was said. Her job could ultimately be on the line here; he'd been a murderous boss to work for during the time of his divorce.  'I just couldn't find the words... you know.' 

     'I've just had two lads from Brian's floor call me a dirty old git, seems some don't find it a problem.'

     'I'm sorry, sir.'

     'Aye, well,' he sighed, 'whether things are true or not, office stigma lasts.'

     'Where there's post-it notes, there's gossip.' She gave a nervous grin, trying a mild stint at humour, but still betwixt at how to play things out.

     'There's a difference between gossip and scandalous gossip though, a big difference.' He sat quiet for a few moments, staring at a misshapen swirl on the pattern grain of his desk. 'By the way - how long ago was it that you first heard anything untoward?'

     'I'm not sure... ah, two weeks, a bit longer maybe.'

     'Two weeks?' Neil frowned, giving this some consideration. 'So if malicious talk reached here before the police visit, then it's been somebody here that's put the report in. It's got to have been' he concluded, clicking on to the fact that the atrocity had made it to other floors.

    'Jacqueline - and please be honest with this - was Brian about when all this smear circulated?' 

    'Brian? Haven't spoken to him at all.' 

    'But he's been taking his lunch in the café?' 

    'Yes, but as I say, I haven't spoken to him... ' Knowing where this was heading she suddenly stood, heading over to the coffee machine; his train of thought was starting to take pace again, just when she thought he was calming down.  'Shall I make you one, too?'  

     He nodded and said the words no conversation-evasive-cup-of-coffee-trip was going to block. 'I need him down here. Can you send for him, please.' If this crazy dilemma had been about that long, why hadn't Brian warned him, put him in the picture? 

The second Brian arrived from the upper floor to the greenhouse, Neil asked Jacqueline to go log off all the quickly abandoned computers around the office, and she gave an oh, fuck grimace as she passed him on her exit. Neil quietly shut the door.  

     As with Jacqueline, Brian noticed his friend's pallidity and scragginess straight off, a tell-tale sign that something was up. He decided to let Neil speak first, to test if the waters required a toe-dip, paddle or wade. It didn't take long to find himself being chucked straight in at the deep end. 

     Handing over a pre-prepared coffee, he said, 'What's the worst you've heard, Brian?'

     Brian flicked on a brace yourself grin, with a tilt of the head, eyes wide. 'Bad enough.' 

     'Got wind of any... where, why's or who's?'

     Brian, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, as if shoving reluctant words back in. 'What does it matter, mate, the shit-stirrers are having a field day anyway.'  

     Neil sank back into the chair at his desk, rubbing his eye sockets with the heel of his hands. If his head was about to be mashed up even more, he'd be as well sitting down for it.  Keeping quiet for a short spell, he sussed that Brian was reticent on giving any information out, knowing he knew far more than  willing to spill and it irked him.  'I'd have appreciated an earlier heads up.'

     'I know. Maybe I should have, but I was hoping the ignorant quips would pass before reaching you.'

     'Shame they managed to reach me at all, can't believe it's got this out of hand. What kind of things were they saying?'

     His best friend drew his look away, scratched the back of his neck. How could he repeat such filth, such imaginings - especially knowing that outsiders' guesswork in parts may very well be true. The snaps of Neil cracking his knuckles brought his gaze upon his friend. 'Brian?'

     Brian took his six-foot four bulk of a body and perched himself on the end of Jacqueline's desk. His mind was becoming like a spinning top as he mulled over this sorry situation, but knew that he couldn't always elect silence to consume his answers. So what the fuck can he say?

     'Does it really matter.?'

     Neil gave a sardonic snigger.  'No, I don't suppose it does, the damage has been done and only likely to get worse - God knows what will be said next... it's finding out who screwed me over that matters more now.'  For this was a double whammy; not only had someone who works for him the nerve to involve police in an incest probe, his oldest friend was holding out on him too - and that hurt. Now his mind went driving down all roads. If he needed to know who the bitch was, he'd need to find a way to prise it out of him.

    'Were you involved, Brian?'  

    'What!?'

    'You were the only other living soul who knew about us.'

    'And you think I would do that, do you?'  His voice was starting to rise with the suggestion of such.

    'Who did you let know?'

    'You're being ridiculous.'

    'Must have been someone here, it's the only possible way.'

    'Look, I've carried this about with me this long - don't you think if I was going to play Judas, I'd have done it well before now?'

    'Maybe it was Eunice, then?' 

    Brian took on a defensive stance, straight back up on his feet, angry at such words. He felt bad enough that he was being attacked, and blame him if he must, but no way was he getting away with suggesting his wife was a snoop. 'That's enough, Neil!' he said loudly, and made for the door.

    Jacqueline heard the scrape of the chair, as Neil shot from his desk to block Brian from leaving the greenhouse, grabbing him back before his hand gripped the handle.  'I know it was a woman - why not her?'

    Brian was trying trying to remain calm, but was losing his patience. 'Just let me the fuck out of here. I'm not having you badmouth my wife.' 

    'Who are you protecting, Brian?I bet she's good friends with Eunice, then..'

    'They've never even met each other!' 

    Instantly, Neil's tense body relaxed. He licked his bottom lip, and stood nodding lightly. 'You know who she is then.'  Fuck, that was clever. Brian had just been buried up to his neck in outfoxed shit. He quickly drew his gaze away, searching the ceiling for a decent riposte, but instead went on a rant to compensate for his stupidity. Breaking point had been reached and he didn't care if Jaqueline heard or not.  

     'Know? What I really know is that you gave me too much to keep secret to start with. I've been carrying it with me this long and it was a sodding relief when the rumours hit. I tried my best to understand, gave it the rationale that others wouldn't and all the while hoping you would come to your senses. Why do you think I've been avoiding you as much as possible - fucking dreading this day!'

     Neil stood motionless, while Brian questioned inwardly if the high from his daughter's warped love was really worth this kind of low.  Maybe revealing how the the real culprit knew would help answer that.

     'It was Valerie, Neil, she told me. Apparently she walked in on you in bed together and made a quick exit when she saw you were both asleep.' 

     'Valerie?' he repeated, stunned, then released a trapped breath.  He took short steps forward and back, then suddenly stopped while letting his thoughts catch up. 'Of course - the night we were supposed to go out she was due to clean the apartment, but we fell asleep drunk instead.

     'And she's let herself in as usual...' Brian said, in a tone that mimicked idiocy.

     'Aye... she texted me saying she was unable to work that night, but—'

     'She'd already been in your apartment... ' 

     A surge of indignation at having been duped washed over Neil (like he'd just done to Brian) and he ran an agitated hand through his hair. 'That's why she changed jobs weeks ago... ' he said with sudden realism. 'What did she tell you?'

     'Oh, have I really got to?' Brian protested, stuffing his hands into his pockets, shaking his head at his shoes. 'Look, it was harrowing enough for her just glimpsing a naked man in bed with his naked daughter, and the source of all the disgusting guff started on the back of that alone. But I stood there listening to her already knowing what I know - I'm breaking her trust by even talking to you now.' 

    'Hmm,' Neil said. 'Nice to know that we're all capable of backstabbing.' 

    'What are you getting at, Neil, you still don't think I had something to do with it?'

    'To be honest, I don't know what to think anymore... ' Before Brian had a chance to protest, he quickly raved on. 'So why didn't she go to the police before now, I mean this happened ages ago.'

    'I'm surprised she even went at all, you know she's hardly the type to say boo to a goose, but it wasn't all down to her.'

    'Apart from confiding in you, who else did she fucking tell?'

    Now Brian wasn't giving a toss who told whom what, he wanted to unburden himself and gave a loud sigh. 'She got drunk on Bacardi one night, got loose-tongued and out it came, and it was her niece that incited getting the police involved. It was after that she got scared and confided in me.'

    'Her niece... ' Neil frowned, his methods of deduction were really picking up pace now,  '...which one? Was she called something like... Cadyanne or similar?'

    'Why do you know her?'     

    'I'm sure that's the one I pulled up for pocketing jewelry that Magrette left behind.'

    'When, and how?' Now Brian was getting lost.

    'A couple of years ago. I was asked if there was any extra cleaning hours going, so I let her tag along with Valerie, cash in hand, to help them out... until the niece started helping herself. Challenged them once when I came back early, where Valerie found a ruby bracelet in her pocket. Caused a big ruckus between them, but the bitch gave me some some look and foreign mouthful before storming off.... and this is some huge payback then, isn't it, for shaming her in front of her aunt.'

    'And Valerie's got family working in the café here, so... ' Brian capped the whole sorry saga off for him. Hopefully now he gets it.

   Neil looked at his friend with a strangled expression, turmoil churning away. 'It could all have been kept in the dark if Valerie hadn't had that bloody drink...!'

   Brian's patience was being riled even more, why couldn't the man see or feel the egregious damage done here. 'But she carried that vision of you both every day, faced you, had to find work elsewhere because she felt shame and guilt, yet she had done nothing wrong.'

  ' Oh, aye... I'm standing here because—'

  'For fuck's sake, Neil! 'Brian had had his fill. 'You're standing there still trying to blame someone else for this when you're the one who's brought life-changing stupidity upon himself - I tried to warn you.... I've covered your back your countless times, but I'm having to turn my back this time. You are the sum of your own actions.' 

   'Och, spare me the pulpit shit!'

   Brian stood silent, no angry counterblast, just biting down on his bottom lip, Neil unconscionably regretting the slur, but too proud at that moment to apologise.

   'Mock all you like, but neither God nor money will be of much use against an incest charge. Now, if you don't mind, I'll get back to work - assuming I still have a job!' This time he wasn't stopped as he leaned for the door handle, turning before opening it. 'You know what? I'm beginning to think Valerie was right to have dobbed you in... '  The blinds on the door swished to and fro behind him as he marched away. It was a comment he felt bad about, but felt fitting at the time.

Neil walked solemnly out into the office. Quarter past two on a Friday afternoon and the place was eerily quiet. Jacqueline had vamoosed and he couldn't blame her for not sticking around. How much she heard he could only guess.

   Not that it mattered. Both Jacqueline and Brians' reluctance in letting him know the details of any aspersions spoke for themselves. Whatever version was rolling around was never going to be said to his face; no-one would be stupid enough to risk their job. Maybe the unscheduled clearance of the office today would suppress and stamp out any future fatuity. Nevertheless, all it took was a minute or two standing in office desolation to know he'd been taking it out on the wrong people. 

    In his affluent world, and out of all his friends, colleagues, exes or enemies, it was a lowly fucking cleaner that had ripped his world apart. What he thought had once been a close shave had in fact been a nasty nick no plaster could ever truly heal. And Brian's advice to end the madness may well have proved fruitless even if he had taken it. State of affairs were by then, an already-wrapped fait accompli.

                                            *                               *                             *

How in God's name was he going to let Saskia know? If only he hadn't let her persuade him to stay in that fateful, drunken day. Perhaps he should just keep this to himself - there would be no need in upsetting her too. At least this busy, quality time with her mother was an escape from this unfolding nightmare. He was missing her and yearned for that pale, yielding body next to his right now. But he'd only heard her voice asking to leave a message every time he called. Could things get any worse?

                 end of  ***THE  BOY***

Every Monday Morning Comes

  **EVERY  MONDAY  MORNING  COMES**

📞Daylight - if not sanity - slowly returned. Every Monday morning comes, but today wasn't a simple return to work downer after the weekend, it was virtually a where the fuck do our lives go from here? agita.  

     Hauling themselves from bed, the bitter taste of yesterday still clouded their thoughts and the hope of feeling better after a sleep reboot had been destroyed by poor quality for any real benefit. On top of this, Saskia was extremely distant, short and snappy when she spoke, and now insisting that she faced her mother by herself - the antithesis to how she was last night - concurring not to any of Neil's behests.  Strangely, she didn't even want to discuss the best approach to the iniquitous impact such a revelation could play on a mother's mind. But she insisted that she would sort her out  (like it was some kind of physical fight that needed knuckle dusters) herself.  So they parted to their cars, one to work, the other to face the music - chamber, of sorts, it may seem. To take on Beverly unaided initially stumped him. Ultimately, he supposed, she knew her mother better. 

Neil was willing his phone to ring, tempted to break his promise of letting her call first. Desperate for an update, his concentration for work waned, focus wandering to Saskia and how the nitty-gritty with her mother was going; the longer she held off calling him, the bigger the possibility that she'd buckled and confessed. 

   Her conduct this morning concerned him. She was trying to get over as doughty, but floated off in thought and speech, like there was something else booting about in her head that she was afraid to disclose - lay bare even. But he didn't want to press her about it at the time, they were both too drained and this morning's attempt to ask would have been fruitless considering her mood.  Call, girl, just call.

    Jacqueline noticed in less than no time that he was subjectively occupied elsewhere. Usually he had umpteen coffees downed by now, but the first one still sat on his desk, cold and scummy, and he was more or less stewing away in the greenhouse, with no office mingling or input from him. So his seclusion suggested that he may already know.  As his P.A. and trustee, even she was not brave enough to ask outright if he had any idea what was being bandied about. She had a professional duty to do so, but the subject matter was too grotesque.  God forbid the news of such ignominy having to come from her. 

After several pleading voicemails, her phone call came that night. The police visit had left her mother rattled and keyed up, but Saskia seemed to have smoothed her over with constant denial of any maleficence. While Neil had expected bombardment with calls and lawyer threats from Beverly, he'd been fearing the worst by the absence of not hearing from her until now. 

   There was the element of both good news and bad from Saskia. Firstly, Beverly had been given the all-clear from cancer and were getting cover at the café to take a girly mum-and-daughter-break for the rest of the week. While this disappointed Neil, disheartened him even, he reckoned under the circumstances, it was perfectly understandable after what she had had to endure. That was not too much of a sacrifice for something that could have turned out worse; it may even be helping to extenuate the seriousness of the police visits. Then again, it worried him that it may be Beverly's way of sugar-coating her daughter to keep them apart. No. He had to trust what Saskia had conveyed. Her absence, he told himself, would give him the chance to tie up shipment loose ends the company needed done. 

   Neither was prepared, however, for the odious events about to happen. Other more pressing matters would soon trample and ride roughshod over them. His millions would play no part in helping him through. Paying the price for love would show him that money is no respecter of prejudice and ridicule.  

  

end *EVERY MONDAY MORNING COMES**

Doom or Destiny CH31

             start of  DOOM  OR  DESTINY

   

 💣The moment she was let through the door she gripped him with a hurting force, repeating through erratic breathing and stutters how terrified she'd been, and he clearly saw that in her raw, screaming eyes. Incoherent and babbling, he guided her to the sofa and sat her down, poured her a brandy (unlikely to serve any medicinal benefit whatsoever, but worth a calming shot) which she promptly laid on the coffee table in front of her; right now all she was desperate for was to be believed, and it was coming out in a fluster.

     'I didn't say anything to anyone, Dad, I swear - not a soul, I'm careful, so bloody careful! Christ, how has this even happened?' 

     Neil promptly handed her back the glass, encouraging her to drink it. 'Slow down, Saskia, just slow down... '

     'I was just ready to come here when they came to the door. I was terrified.'

     'How long has it been since they left?'

     'Uh... probably over an hour ago, maybe longer, but, oh my God, it felt like they were there forever, it was just so, so... fuck... ' Her words trailed off, the volume of them softening as she gazed straight at the wall in thwarted contemplation.   

     While still holding the glass, she was pulling at a hair band around her wrist, snapping the elastic again and again against her skin, making circular ripples in the brandy. He wished she would just gulp it down and listen to him. Then she, with slow shakes of the head and interspersed sighs, she started to babble softly to herself again. 'I swear I haven't fucked up. No, no... I didn't, I know I didn't.'  Ruminating thoughts kept her a prisoner of panic; the last thing she needed was to convince herself  she must have. But when? How?

     'Didn't what?' Neil asked. No answer. A deep fissure had opened in his mind, and he struggled not to let doubts and accusations ooze in. Surely she hadn't slipped up, caught out by mistake? Her silence, like his, was something paramount to their affiliation and he'd innately trusted her on this one. 'Saskia?' 

    Looking up at him she looked lost and infantile. Sitting down by her, he swept an arm around her shoulder, feeling her entire body stiffen. Gently, he kissed her head.  'Just tell me what happened.'

Now the brandy went down in one, fueling up on courage to help kick-start her own galling experience.

Her version sounded as painful as his own; similar grilling, similar indirect questions. But she had had her mother in the mix to cope with as well whom, so far, she hadn't mentioned.

     'I take it Beverly was at home too?'

     'Yeah, she was.'

     'Don't know what I'd have done without her to be honest.'  

     'What?' he said, not expecting to hear that. 'How?'

     Saskia drew in a breath and quickly exhaled it through her nose, recalling the scene. 'Strangely supportive. It got to a stage where she more or less shouted the police out the door they had pissed her off that much.'

     'Really?' Neil asked, taken aback at this, he assumed any involvement from her would be far from positive under the circumstances.

     'Oh, they were clever bastards though, spoke to me privately to start with. I was petrified, knew what was coming, denying everything. I don't know if mum had been listening at the door or not, but next thing we knew she barged into the room, demanding to know what was going on, so I had to tell her what we'd been accused of. I had no choice, it would have looked too dodgy if I hadn't, like I really had something to hide.'  So far she seemed to have used her spurious stratagem wisely, but he still felt highly suspicious of Beverly.

    'How did she react?'

    'Really quiet at first, her stare went from me to the police and a few moments later she asked me if it was true. Of course, I denied it and she accepted it, come over to me and hugged me. I cried with relief that she at least seemed to believe it.'  Neil's heart beat started to rapidly increase, not feeling in the least relieved himself.  'She turned to the police women and briefly filled them in on how and why we'd just met. She assured them that you were a decent man, and whomever gave them information of that nature was a sick bastard.'

     'Did they say anything about who that might have been?'  

     Saskia sighed and shook her head. 'Mum demanded to know, but they said it wasn't necessary and that it might just escalate to worse happenings.' Just as he had also been told. 'That was when she went radge, basically told them to fuck off... but they let slip it was a woman.'

   Neil frowned at this, and sat forward to look at her. 'They told you that?'

   Saskia shrugged. 'In a way. While practically pushing them out the door, Mum was throwing a loud wobbly, saying that she could kill the scum who caused this, and would 'rip the head off them if she finds out who etc, etc, and in between all her shouting I heard one tell Mum not to be ridiculous and that they would deal with her themselves if need be.'

    This guilty party (if Saskia heard rightly) was a woman, the snide was female. 

     Both police visits hadn't really lead to anything drastic, and he knew Saskia must have struggled to hold her nerve. But if Beverly hadn't been there he feared Saskia may have crumbled. Regardless of a mother's protection, Neil knew that matters couldn't have ended that simply.

     'How was your mum after the police left?'  The quick aversion of her eyes and reluctance to answer right off, said enough. 'Did you tell her the truth?'  

     He recalled the recent instance where Saskia had disappeared for three days after falling out with her mum, where Beverly hinted that Saskia may be getting too close to her father. That concern was dead and buried, excused as a one-off bitter reaction between feuding mother and daughter; Beverly's obscure reaction this time round sounded more worrisome.

    She sat forward too, clasping her hands, while hitting her thumb nails rapidly off her teeth. Then she stopped, swallowed, bowed her head. 'I don't want to ever stop seeing you... ' 

     'I know,' he replied tenderly, 'but I need to know if you told her. Does she know?' 

     Saskia shook her head. 'I'm not sure, Dad... she just stormed off, saying she'd see me in the morning. I kept shouting after her it wasn't true, but she just disappeared into her room.'  The corollary of the situation and her refusal to talk to Saskia pretty much spoke for itself. What she didn't tell him was, in actuality, Beverly had slapped her hard across the face, drawing her a vile grimace. 

     'Please say I  can I stay here, tonight? I don't think I can face her right now... '

    A heavy sigh came from Neil, and Saskia at first thought it was in despair of her. But he wrapped both arms round her this time and rested his chin on her head. 'Of course you can... we'll face her together tomorrow.'  How they would approached that, he had no clue. Despite Beverly's health being on a welcoming upsurge, he feared she may not have the strength for such repugnance thrown upon her. But right now, in the middle of this fallacious torment, his daughter needed him more.    

     'It's getting late, I'll make us some of that Horlicks stuff you like.'  As if a hot malty drink would live up to it's sleepy promise after you've been quizzed over incest. 

     As he waited for the kettle to boil, he looked over and saw that Saskia had curled herself into a ball of shear fear, while his stomach felt sickeningly gnarled and knotted. He couldn't quite believe these past few hours. Once the hot beverages were ready, he walked over to her and noticed a bright coral had stained her cheeks and chest area, tailor-made by her own brain playing on her deepest fears, all cried out.

     'C'mon now.. sit up young lady.'  Doing so, she carefully accepted her mug and wiggled off her sandals as he sat next to her, giving his appointed usual chair a miss. 

     'What are we going to do, Dad? I'll die if I lose you.'

     He gently patted her thigh, trying to comfort her with a useless 'there there' gesture. 'Won't be easy, I know, but we carry on as usual. Things were fine till this point -  giving up would look more of a give away.'

     'I swear to God I haven't breathed a word. To anyone.' 

     'I know,' he said, and he believed that she hadn't let down her guard, not once. But he had with Brian -  something she wasn't aware of - yet trusted him implicitly. He'd have 'fessed up anyhow if he had confided in any woman.

     'We've been so careful though!' She whispered out the words while racking her brains, the whole whodunnit dominated her thoughts.  

     'Yeah,' Neil sighed, still in puzzle mode himself over that one. He'd even went as far as wondering if it was anything to do with the hotel staff back at Christmas, or some jealous 'I'll wait down the line then strike ' moment, from Julia. 'I know.'

     'D'you think we'll ever find out who she is?'

     'Probably not... but it's your mum we should be more concerned about.'

     A tingle of goosebumps spread over Saskia's shoulders and tops of her arms at the at the mention of her. 'That's why I'm giving her space. I don't know what conclusion she'll come to, but I didn't want to get into any conflict with her tonight. Can't we just leave her till the morning - decide what to do then?'

     It was a fair enough ask. If her head was anywhere near as muggy and mentally smarting as their own, it badly needed rest.  Now, with reassurance holding no promises, an overwhelming, trite tiredness overshadowed the day's events.  Sorting things out soon-as had always been his strategy; getting things out of the way his style. With this arbitrarily sprung on him, and the anonymity of the bitch meddling in his affairs, this would be some struggle to not let it eat away at him.

     'I suppose,' he reluctantly agreed. But things will be a lot more gauche with her now. She'll have every reason to think that the police may be right.'

     Saskia gave a exaggerated sigh. 'I don't care what she says or thinks. She rarely asks about you and when she does it's just frivolous shit I tell her, she's usually not that interested anyway... I need you right now, Dad.'  Her voice sounded scratchy and he could tell by the nippiness of her tone that there should be no more mum talk. 

     Neil licked his lips. The salt and malt drink left an unpleasant, viscid coating and he relinquished both his and her mug to the table, sure he'd ballsed up in the making of them. 

     'We could just take off somewhere.' she suggested out of the blue.

     A pitiful smile spread over his face. 'I have considered it, believe me. But I don't think that's wise meantime. With the police having gotten involved, running away right now would reek heavily of guilt. Besides, it would take me a few weeks to sort work and business dealings out. If that was to happen, it should have happened well before now. But... ' he threw her a 'sorry-to-mention-her-again' gesture with his hand, 'I know you'd probably wanted to make sure your mum was okay health-wise first before setting off for a new life elsewhere.' 

     Disappointment spread through to her very bones and she hung her head, letting her hair cover the misery in her face. But he was right. A hiding place now would only bring temporary relief.  'Look... we always knew that there was a risk and the risk's upon us now, but we keep on as we are.' Using a saying his father portrayed as wisdom, he told her,  'Sometimes you have to just brave things out, see it through till the worst blows over.'

     'Huh! Will it ever?' she asked loud and narky. Patience was never her strong point, especially when tiredness was a factor.

     Neil was starting to feel a bit narky at her angst too. With his own bubbling away inside he could empathise, but it was starting to weary him. 'I don't have a crystal ball, Saskia, I'm about as perplexed at this as you.' He didn't want to use the word 'scared' - it would do more harm than good right now. Under all this crazy complexity, he was still the adult of the two.  

     'Do you think we'll be forced apart?'  The stark and utterly silent, shrieking terror that she could lose him stung strongly.

     He took a little too long to answer for her liking, sending her heart into galloping mode.

     'Do you?' she repeated. 

     His head dropped back for a long, thinking moment, before looking at her again. Offering her hands to be held in both of his, he pulled her up. 'Honey... I'm not even going to think like that. Anyone will lie for their own means to keep what's important to them safe, and if that's what it takes, that's what it takes.'

   'We fight, then?'

   'We fight as contrived a path as we can.'

   'Can't quite believe what's happening.' she laughed nervously, sniffing back the beginnings of a runny nose.

     'I know.' He felt he'd used those words a million times today. 'Look... unexpected fate brought us together and it's had to put up with us ever since. Didn't we always say what we have when doors close is ours? I'm not going to abandon you, abandon us.' 

     He leaned towards her and gave her a reassuring soft kiss, which didn't feel anymore wrong since their first one. 'Who's got the right to take love away?'  When that intrinsic, genetic link passed the boundary of decency, he felt there was even more strength by their bloodline. Choice or law played no part.

     Rising abruptly, he picked up the mugs and headed for the sink to rinse them out, wishing the vision of the police visit could swirl away down the plughole with this sickly stuff - which he tried to blame for the sudden nauseous feeling rising in his throat. 

    He knew fine that the police didn't believe their denials, that they were both licentious - born with a sickness of the soul which came with no cure.  Any attempt to heal it would end in protest from mind and body. They were lumbered with this love, burdened by sweet disaster.

     But one thing Neil was certain of. This wasn't the last they would hear from the police, not after their   stylized allusion. It would gratify them no end to see a nabob like him - a big shot millionaire with his guts and his glory - come crashing pejoratively down; even better if the story made headline news.

     Folding the dish towel neatly over the oven handle, he turned to see Saskia coiled back into a foetal ball.  He ripped himself from his theories and went over to her.

     'Are you okay?' he asked.

     'Not really. I'd gotten so used to calling you... ' she closed her eyes, holding them for a few long moments, '... Dad.'

     Neil didn't react to her defeatist tone. Exhaustion had ravaged the pair of them and he squatted to her level, stroking back her overlong fringe. 'We will have to brave it out, Saskia, whatever comes along, but it sounds as if the police want to put this one to bed,' he openly lied, 'and that's exactly where we should be.' He stood up, beckoned her with his fingers. 'C'mon.'  

    Slowly she unfurled her tense body and bones and took his hand with a sense of belonging.

     Before sliding into bed, she stood staring out the window and he caught sight of that blameful body through the sheer nightdress she slowly slipped on. Usually she reveled in not having to close the curtains and still have that open privacy, but he watched with sorrow as she made sure all the drapes and blinds were fully drawn. London would not be making its way under covers with them tonight. 

   He lay on his side and wriggled back, shaping her against his own body, feeling for her hand to clasp and rest round his middle as usual. Planting one light kiss on the back of it, he tucked it even tighter to him; not another word muttered. He could feel a tremble come from her, ever so slightly but there.

  Eyes closed, heads working overtime, heartbeats racing away in tandem, he hoped his father's usually chimerical advice would see them brave this through. But he also knew his father was the architect of his own destruction. Tonight, he'd never felt more like his father in his life.

                     end of  DOOM  OR  DESTINY       

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On A Rope (CH30)

             start of  ***ON  A  ROPE***

📓On Saturday, Saskia and her mother had to attend the wedding of a friend - making Sunday dinner with Neil a few hours later to cater for any hangover hang-ups. Since Saskia always called to let him know when she was setting off, an alert from reception baffled him. When told that it was the police, he felt his stomach drop.  Accident? Work break in? Car theft? That would have been far less feared and far easier dealt with. 

   The ping of the lift outside seemed to resonate louder when listening for it. The biggest dread he had tucked away and ignored for so long, with its it won't happen to us surety, was now indeed happening, and about to make its cold and unheralded entrance. As the shrill of the extended doorbell ring pierced the silence, the tense grip around his middle tightened. He closed his eyes, steeled himself, and grasped the doorknob.

    'Mr. Balfour?'

    'Yes,' Neil answered, frowning, hoping against hope that this was something connected with work. 

    'May we come in?'

    The first thing people usually do in the presence of police is ask right away what their visit was linked to before opening the door, but he swung it wide and guided them to the couch.  'Please,' he proffered a hand in the direction of his sofa's, 'take a seat.'  

    The men duly noted his quiet reaction to their criterion of interest; which could mean he knew what they might be here for, or it could be that he was just simply too nervous to ask. Neil however, duly noted that the men were wearing a suit apiece, rather than uniforms suggesting this was serious. He dreaded their words, but he'd have to be very careful with his own if his evincive hunch was right. Neil took a seat opposite them, certain his face portrayed the fear he felt.  The procedural actions to their inquiry began with introductions. Now crunch time had arrived. Fuck.

     'I'm Detective Bruce and this is Officer Prentice.'  

     He returned no pleasantry. 'Detective, huh? I'm obviously assuming it must be bad news. So... what brings you here? I'm guessing it's not for speeding,' he nervously joked. Neither man cracked a smile. Adding levity was not going to grace his favour. 'Break in at work again or something?'

     Both of them, (an older scrawny and overworked one who made the introductions) and his sidekick (half his age and twice the weight) gave no answer, just continued with the matter at hand. 'Can we just confirm that you know a Saskia Reymarr, Mr. Balfour?' 

     Yup. They'd gone straight for the jugular.  'My daughter... has something happened to her?' Neil leaned forward.

     The officers exchanged glances. 'No, she's not come to any harm, no accident or anything suchlike.'

     Anything suchlike? They knew.

     'That's good...' He simulated relief on that part. 'So what is it?'

     'We believe you've really only known of each other for a few months?'

     'Well since March, so yes.'

     'You get along okay?'

     'Fine.'

     'And you've built up a good relationship in the small period you've known each other, then?'

     'It's going well, so far.'

     'Bit of a shock, though, I guess. A daughter appearing out of the blue?' Prentice gave a contrived smile while taking notes, giving a miniscule shake of the head. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He would need to tread carefully, advance cautiously, avoid overcommitting. 'I don't mean to be rude, but where are we going with this?'

      Bruce, the older one, leaned himself more forward to exact precisely where they were.  'We're from the Sexual Offences Division.'

     Jesus Christ.                              

     'What!' Neil gulped down a huge lungful of air, and for a moment everything disconnected. He gave a strained smile. 'I don't understand?'

    The men exchanged glances once more.  'There's no easy way to put this, but we have been given information stating that you and your daughter may be involved in some...unnatural coupling.'  

     Neil frowned deeply. Bruce just said been given information, and not that there was any actual proof; it was vital not to slip up. The least said is the easiest mended. Darting his eyes from man to man in an attempt to look as if he didn't know what they meant, Prentice happily helped him out; he had no qualms in saying it.  'That you're involved with each other sexually.'

     No matter how geared up Neil felt against hearing the actual words, an ominous sensation still overwhelmed him; like a heavy blanket draping itself over him. His ears started to ring as blood rushed to his head, rendering him unpleasantly dizzy. But he had to grapple, take crucial control, whip up prior rehearsals into their feasible story. This scene played in his mind so many times at the start of entering into incest, and as time went on doubted it ever becoming an actuality. Yet here it was upon him.   

    Neil's hand flew to his mouth and closing his eyes, dragged it down over his lips and chin, all the while shaking his head.  'No, no, no, no, no!'  This movement was either saying: I've been rumbled or someone's got it in for me. He had to stick with the latter. 

     'I'm afraid so. We have to ask if it's true.'

     'Of course it's not true.. ' he snapped back, protestation his voice. '... what the fuck!' Then his head dropped, eyes on the carpet, quite clearly in shock. The men seemed to be in respect of that for a second or two, but needed to continue:

     'Any idea why somebody would make that up? It's a pretty sick accusation.'

     There were only two names flying around in his head. Brian or Saskia. Both he trusted implicitly. If it had come out during a row with Beverly, Saskia would have been straight on the phone to him - she made a promise to do that after her non-verbal weekend with Dan. 

     'Who am I suppose to be thinking of?'

     'Any associate have an axe to grind with you?'

     'What - like a disgruntled employee, rival, or jealous friend?'  He looked Bruce straight in the eye and the detective shrugged as if to say 'perhaps.'  'I have money - people tend to keep on your good side and most of my friends do okay for themselves anyhow, so I can't think of any enemies in that respect.'  It was a true enough assertion, and they believed he believed that.  'As for my work force, I demand results, but I pay a very decent wage, so not one person in particular springs to mind.  I don't think I've been uncouth enough to deserve this.'

     'Maybe someone thinks you have. And if it's untrue—' 

     'IF it's untrue... of course, it's untrue!'

    '—then that's a pretty cruel manner in which to punish someone.' 

     Starting to bite his bottom lip while tapping his foot - these visitants were quick at beginning to irk him - he stopped his motions the second he realised he was doing it; they'd pick up on any body languish. 'Look, I don't know what you're expecting from me, but I'd prefer not to be pussyfooted around, so what is it you're expecting to leave here with?'

   'I'm not sure what you mean, we're only following procedure, Mr. Balfour.' Prentice smiled at him.

   'Procedure?  A visit at this time in your Sunday best doesn't quite make one feel at ease, does it? A quiet word down at the nick not good enough? So excuse me if I have visions of being marched out of here in handcuffs after some coerced hefty confession!'

   'Confession? That's a bit strong?' The younger man frowned and stuck out his bottom lip, still looking down as he took notes; coming across contrived and knowing it. This little bloodthirsty fuck was enjoying this. But Bruce was quick to intervene, knowing how Prentice could be a little too keen to turn the thumbscrews.

   'Look, ' Bruced sighed. 'We're sorry if our presence has upset you, I know how intrusive it must feel, but we also have to consider that if the source of our information is lying, then you're the one getting the raw deal.'

  Despite being so pent up, Neil stayed quiet as if absorbing this. ' Yes, well,' he quietened his tone, 'your 'source of information' seems to have convinced you enough to act upon it. I take it you know who it was?'

   'We do, but I don't think that matters for now.' 

   'Why not? If someone has been given a raw deal, wouldn't they have the right to challenge it - know who's responsible for it?' Morally, of course, he was right. A police department wouldn't commit itself until it felt it had sound reasoning to, But both men knew though, they were unlikely to get anything incriminating directly from him. 

     'They would, they would. Look... maybe we're jumping too far ahead with this.' They'd been testing the water a little too deeply, and Neil was ahead of their questions a little too readily. It was important at this stage for them not to get out of their depth too soon, venture beyond their level of expertise prematurely - something Prentice would need to work a bit harder on.

     Neil sneered. 'Oh, you think so? Listen, this isn't something you do on a whim, is it? If you checked out every erroneous tip-off you got you'd be snowed under.  Someone's swayed you enough to check this nonsense out. You know as well as I do that this hasn't derived from the back of a simple phone call.' He stood, riling himself up again - enough now to shoot over to his decanter to fill himself a double and necking it. The glass cracked on it's slam down. 

   To them this showing of anger had two possibilities: One - frustration that the police know who called and had no meantime intention to disclose who. Two - the audacity of the person who involved them. 

 Whoever that was, most people wanted the bastard who dobbed them in punished - whether the bastard was telling the truth or not.  

     'Are you okay, Mr.Balfour?' Prentice asked, actually sounding sincere.

     'Of course, I'm not fucking okay... would you be?'

     A fraught silence fell until Neil apologised for his outburst, which was okayed by Bruce raising his hand and giving a curt nod. And while they seemed to be showing a fragment of understandability, he thought he played the deception card.   

     'I get that you have to follow up on information, but this is all wrong. Aye, my daughter's with me a lot, we've a lot of catching up to do, but she's got her own room there,' he explained calmly, pointing to a door. 'See for yourself - there's girly stuff's scattered everywhere. Does my bloody head in at times.'

     Ironically, they made a point of always leaving her bed with that 'slept-in-it' look - mainly for Valerie's benefit when she had come to clean it. But his words didn't really pack a punch or prove anything, although Price jotted something down then put his notepad into his pocket. Still, they both kept shtum.

   Neil gave a near-empty sigh. 'So what's gonna happen here onward?'

The question was ignored at first as Bruce had tapped Prentice on the shoulder, indicating with his head it was time to go. There were no more questions for now they could usefully ask; both men knew they were unlikely to get anything incriminating directly from him.  'We'll be going now, thanks for your time.' And they headed for the door.

     'Should I be needing legal advice?' Neil asked while following them on their exit before they had the chance to leave. 

    Had Prentice just foretasted a whiff of panic? A sly smirk crossed his face for the briefest moment before turning to answer him. 'Well, there's no arrest about to take place - with no solid proof there would be no need for that. The informant's probably got the wrong end of the stick, or even acted on hearsay - we don't know for sure. We have to follow up complaints nonetheless... besides, I'm sure Miss Reymarr will corroborate what you've told us.'  This was the part of the job he (and every smart-arsed detective) loved the most; the parting comments. 

     A  horrid heat spread over Neil's chest. 'You're going to see her now?'

     'No, we're not. Two officers are with her presently - both women, seeing as it's such an indelicate subject.' 

    'What? Surely there's no need to press any of this nonsense onto her?' 

    'Unfortunately we do. It takes two to tango, if you get the drift.'

    'Okay.'  He closed his eyes, nodding his head. No protest or outburst of any kind here would make matters better. He felt buggered. Good style.

     'Thanks for your time, Mr. Balfour. I shouldn't think you'll be seeing us again.'

     Closing the door behind them, he turned to rest against it, sagging in the middle with relief - but only because they'd gone. No way was this the end of it. That he knew. Not a hope in hell.

Back in the car, young Prentice slammed the door on the passenger's side and stated explicitly and loudly: 'He's a lying bastard.'

     'What makes you say that?' his partner asked.

     'Did you notice the photo on the side table?'

     'Course I did, Gary. It's our  job to notice everything.'

     'Well... all I can say is if it is her with him in that picture, my hand would be up her skirt too.' Bruce shot him a look, but Prentice wasn't sure if it was through amusement or irritation. 'What?'

     'Fuck's sake, man... your powers of deduction are impressive - d'you that?'  And with a twisted smile he pulled away, his curiosity to compare what story the female inspectors brought back to the station, stronger than ever.

                                   *                                             *                                          *                                                           

Pacing the flat, all sorts of crazy theories were going on in his head. Who? Why? How? The day they feared the most had been lying in wait after all, risk hanging more heavily over them with every clandestine move they made. A vast rehearsal of denials and excuses would need to be practiced ready for their part to play in keeping them unbroke;  caution and carefulness executed with utmost precision.  No inappropriate conduct in public, never sending incriminating texts - not even for deletion - and living their outside lives on everyone else's terms. They never thought they would ever have to use any protection plan.

There was no point in beating his brains out, it could only have come from one of two sources; Brian or Saskia, but surely she wouldn't have done anything stupid? And Brian had no reason to break his confidence or his promise. Not without facing Neil first.  Could the secret have been festering away inside Brian and he's talked? Then he dismissed the thought, Brian wouldn't do that.  But one thing was for sure - unless Beverly had been out this evening, she now knew. From her end, it was down to Saskia and how she was handling the questions and facts that vitally counted.  These officers were trained in getting to the truth and she would have to master a way out of this in regard to her mother, too.  He prayed she'd be strong. He wasn't ready to give her up. Only death held that role.

    The air indoors suddenly felt stifling, and Neil needed a breathing spell outside. Usually he treated his balcony as a podium to reflect, think and chill, but all he felt was fear and the whiskey burning like acid in his throat and rib cage - the Jack Daniels not giving him even the briefest pardon from this unfolding nightmare. And as much as he was tempted to call her, he opted for the cowardly approach and would wait until she called him. 

    It took a short while for him to realise that his jumper felt damp, that a misty rain was falling. Skies overhead rolled violet and anthracite - dramatically dark. The black clouds he could see through the lessening light lay in jagged stripes that ripped through the sky to his core. Where was the lilac horizon that said an early goodnight to London? If anywhere he hoped it was inside Saskia.  

   While turning to go back inside, his visitor-alert box buzzed. He walked straight to it. Pausing momentarily, he answered it to hear,

     'Dad, it's me... ' 

                   end of  ON  A  ROPE

Really Got Me (ch29)

      start of ***  REALLY  GOT  ME***

🌟✈ His cluttered head wasn't really getting the peace it needed after his exchange with Brian. He knew how his friend felt about this over-attachment with his daughter and the legal boundaries it crossed.  Of course, the advice given to him had been prudent, and he thought he at least owed Brian something since they more or less stopped socializing these days.

  He did conjure up the scenario of telling her that it may be in their best interest if they no longer saw each other and what that actuality would bring about.  But the pain of such a sudden and cruel act, and watching her crumble through it was unbearable to even think about. Not now. Not ever. They couldn't even manage being weaned from the other; seeing each other less, no keeping their contact to just public places, no calling less, no taxi's home after he'd cooked for her, no keeping to her own room. There was no lesser degree of impact for them, no damage limitation that would succeed.

   But he did promise Brian he'd think about the peccancy of his future; committing to such this very second via a long quiet walk, (mobile at home, iPod in his pocket) under glorious winter sun that oozed from an azure cloudless sky. A perfect setting for clear, serious, sensible thinking... who was he trying to kid? All it took was a distant aeroplane catching his eye to make any such thoughts moulder as it merely placed emphasis on their premeditated plan. Weighing up the odds, they may need a straight flight, across skies and outta here themselves some day. Plus he really wasn't being totally loyal to Brian by choosing the very park he and Saskia met up in to process these 'thoughts' - that wasn't doing anything other than confirming their fait-accompli carried —— and disregard. 

Within forty-eight hours of last hearing from her, she was back on the phone, back at his table, back in his bed. There was no need to expose the fact that he had thought - theoretically - of a future without her. Of how in the long run he knows she would be better off with a guy her age as he part-seriously, part- jokingly reminds her that she'll outlive him by at least 30 years anyhow. So they embrace the present, live in the moment. How these moments will eventually pan out is a different story; one they need not concern themselves with for now. Or do they?      

   This past while, since Beverly vacillated some possible suspicion during the time she legged it, Saskia had to reassure Neil that her mum had just been off on a nasty rant, and could be really vile when in a mood. She felt it necessary to mention too, that this had worsened since the death of her grandfather, and could exacerbate when she was on the blob (something she had to demystify the meaning of in none too delicate a term). Even so, Neil was beginning to feel more rattled at the mention of her these days. Saskia could be miles away at times and on inquiry of such moments, her mum was usually the reason but she brushes it off, jokes about home life. Maybe it was instinctive concern, but there was only so much recovering from cancer could be excused for. If anything, one would expect after having battled such a disease, that life would take on a more lucid and placating rationale. He could recall her fiery temper but it was never that bad to have left any enduring impression on him.

Spending a rather lengthy spell out on the balcony, on this cold wintery night, Saskia, in skimpy and  sleeveless night apparel, sneaked up on him and slipped arms around his middle from behind, resting the side of her head between his shoulder blades. 

     'What ya doing freezing your danglers out here, Raptor?'

     Feeling her warm, uncovered arms enclose him, he turned and berated her back. 

     'You'll catch your death, you daft mare!' Her short smock revealed bare legs, too.

     'I thought you'd slipped off without saying goodnight.. '

     'No... an aeroplane caught my eye and I kind of got drawn in by its tail lights. Took fifteen minutes to disappear from sight... I timed it!' He feigned amazement.

     'Well, I'm... ' she hauled him by the arm, 'drawn to get back inside. That show starts in ten and you're not even settled in your PJ's. Timing plane lights going across the sky...' she tutted,  'you blokes really don't ever grow up.'

    'Oi!' He gave her a playful push on the shoulder on their way through the glass doors, partaking in all this living for the moment stuff, when he would have been better off booking a plane ticket right there and then.

    

       end of ***REALLY  GOT  ME***

Secret (pt2) CH28

                   ***SECRET (pt 2)***

  🐦🐦 Just when Brian had thought he'd heard it all, the next apple of discord in this God-forsaken saga hurled incredulity straight back at him.  Still trying to incorporate sense obliquely to bring Neil back down from cloud cuckoo land, he asked what would happen if their affair did become common knowledge.

    'At the first sniff of anything like that we'd flee - to some place or other where nobody knows us.'

     Staring at him with an almighty frown, forcing the lines in his forehead to replicate a down pointing arrow, Brian was clearly taken aback.

   'What? And abandon her mum?'

   'Saskia's spent most of her life to pleasing her mum, helped with her grandfather too, besides Beverly's doing well, she's expecting the all-clear soon. But that's the decision we've made if the worst was to happen...'  he declared, walking back to his desk, after a like-it-or-not gesture at Brian's clear affront. And once he was sitting back down, he swept a hand right round his surrounds, then said, 'I'd give all this up for her. Right now.'

    The words totally confounded Brian. 'Are you serious?'

    'Oh, I'm serious. You know the old saying " if you don't sacrifice for what you want, what you want becomes the sacrifice?"  Well, I can't have that. I won't...all of this,' he gestured around again, ' would be yours.'

     Brian let that thought take precedence for a moment. He'd be running Balfour Industries! 

     They'd already signed an indenture that sealed this future deal on Neil's retirement - he would be head honcho. He had managed the place for years whenever Neil was shooting off somewhere; for months at a time when he was married to Magrette.  

   Of course, nothing was fully signed over, but the disposition could see Brian comfortably off. Neil was planning on retiring at 60 anyhow, so it'd be no big deal bringing that forward a couple of years. Work was purely stringent familiarization, reaching an imperishable level of boredom by 10a.m. and felt even more intolerable since Saskia.  He'd be fucked if he would let this place be the premature death of him. With millions safely tucked away for retirement, he could bow out gracefully. Or perhaps disgracefully now it was known that if this whole sordid affair did leak, they would be pissing off out of the picture.  

      'Here's hoping it doesn't come to that,' Brian said.  And for Neil's sake at this moment in time, under such circumstances, he really meant it. 

   Back to the decanter for one last whisky, Brian stood quiescently watching night engulfing the daylight sky.  There would be no point in any more visceral objections.  As far as he managed to see things, his friend was caught up in a juncture, a case of hope and hopelessness, while his own feelings on the matter were suspended somewhere between horror and pity. Pity? There was a word he'd never thought he'd ever associate with mega-rich, uber-privileged Neil Balfour.  It was a shame, too, as he had stopped being morally bankrupt years ago. This disgusting love had blinded him enough to be ignoring the full backlash, of the consequences it could bring. What a bloody old fool. 

    'I'll have to be going soon, Neil, but can you answer me one last thing before I leave - just for my own curiosity?'

     He gave a curt nod.

    'If she hadn't initiated things, confessed to you, so to speak... would you have said or done anything?'

    'Probably not,' he answered, tapping a pen by it's nib on the desk, 'although it wouldn't have stopped me knowing, needing, or wanting her.  As I said, you can't legislate for the human heart. She's the sweetest, funniest and single-most mental little creature. It can hurt how much I love her - and she has me in which any way, shape or form she chooses.'  

    Jesus, thought Brian to himself (he'd never blaspheme out loud) this idiot has taken mollycoddling to a new extreme!  Worse still, he sounded like a lovesick puppy.

    'I know it's been a shock, Brian, but she's the best thing to have happened to me since Magrette left. Life was empty after her, you know that better than anyone.'

    Brian gave a rueful smile at that. Had Magrette still been his wife, this whole sorry event may never have occurred. Curiosity killed, it really was time to go, but he was leaving with a minute fragment of understanding.  Instances of this kind weren't totally unheard of and usually always had a reciprocal sympathy story to sell with it. So was it really wrong to be needed, to be comforted in bittersweet necessity?  Brian swirled the glass and in one fell swoop, the whiskey took the answer to that one down with it. 

   'Okay if I leave the report till Monday?'
   'Sure.' Neil answered, his friend's mind would probably be addled enough this weekend, let alone cope with audit trails. 'Thanks, Brian. For at least letting me vent. I wasn't quite expecting a Gregson from you, but I've appreciated you being there all the same.'

   'Well, nobody can wholeheartedly view a situation they're not directly involved in, but I'll not move from what I think would be best all round.'     

   'I'll see that your car gets to you in the morning.' Was all his reply contained.
   Again, Brian gave a little nod and headed out. Pausing in the door frame, he turned to add:
   'You know this'll go no further, Neil.'  That was never doubted for a second. 'Text me when Saskia returns. Daughters are stubborn little bastards, but it'll be sooner than you think.'

    Neil's revelation would feel tangible for days to come, like a sour taste on the tongue, and Brian prayed as he strode towards the exit that Neil really would come to his senses. But the man had, after all, simply felt compelled to fight hiscorner, spill his heart - just as Saskia was coaxed to do at Neil's request. But he sorely wished he hadn't popped up for that damned document tonight.  

Alone in the darkening office, Neil heaved an almighty sigh, mixed with worry, fear and palliation. It had been strange to articulate the appeal and danger of taboo, but freeing at the same time. Right now, however, come what may, he just wanted to know Saskia was okay. It would be pointless to glance anymore at either his phone or out the window, and the greenhouse carpet had been subjected to the most-incessant pacing of its life. One more refill and he'd do one.

                                  *                                        *                                           *
   
Standing wearily on his balcony at 2 am, with a fifth coffee since returning home in hand, he looked out over the city, listening to the distant sighs of traffic, hoping that some car or taxi would glide her safe return here or her home. London lights were gradually saying goodnight; tower block illuminated windows blinking off into darkness, one after another.  This was useless. Telling himself that she would call by the end of his next overdose of caffeine, clearly wasn't happening.  All it was really doing was working up a bladder-full of trips to the toilet.  He tipped the remaining half mug of coffee down the sink and went to bed, leaving the curtains fully open. After one last check at his phone's battery life, he succumbed to sleep faster than expected.

    

It took him a minute to click on that there was an extra band of warmth around his middle.  Looking down under the sheet he was mightily relieved to see her hand resting on his tummy, and with a quick glance at her over his shoulder for extra reassurance, he turned and roused her.  

     'Saskia? Saskia... where have you been, your mother's been going nuts wondering where you are.'  Checking his phone, she'd called another twice through the night, but noted none from Saskia. Him and his deep slumber. What use would he have been had she called? 

     'Please just let me sleep, Dad!'  

     He supposed that was a reasonable enough request to barter his relief with.
     It was now half past seven, so he rose as he'd be getting up at eight anyhow; a long enough lie in for him at weekends.  While the kettle was on to boil, he went to the guest room to call Beverly.  Whether she'd answer or not, he wasn't sure.  In the end he had to leave a voicemail.    
     By 10 a.m. he'd been to the supermarket for essentials and Saskia still hadn't moved from her sleeping position.  No amount of deliberate activity stirred her, and just as he decided one more hour and she was up whether she liked it or not, she started to awaken. Neil loomed over her, arms crossed, until she focused on his rather peeved expression as she clambered to sit up.
     'This the bit where I get grounded for a month?'
     'Your mum and I had been going out of our mind's with worry.'  
     'Now there's a sentence I seriously thought I'd never ever hear.'
     He ignored the cynicism, simply stating: 'You could have texted.'  It was apparent now that by ignoring him too, she had indeed been getting at her mum, for calling Beverly would have been the obvious thing he'd do.  
     'Yeah, well, I didn't. Some things you have to just grin and bear - I can't be my mother's puppet forever...  ' She quickly whipped back the covers and stormed towards the bathroom. 

    'Despite any gripe you had with your mum, all it would have taken was a simple message letting us know you were all right.'

    'Well, it looks like both of you will have to suck it up, then, doesn't it?'

    'Oh, very mature, Saskia!' he called after her. A minute or two later, he heard the rush from the shower head.  

   Preparing a breakfast that he wasn't sure either were ready for, there was a disquiet knot in his tummy. He tried to dismiss it as being his profound talk with Brian last night, but this gut feeling said differently.

    Saskia dressed from the stack of clothes she kept here and sat across from Neil at the breakfast bar, thanking him briefly. They both spent an uncomfortable couple of minutes, forcing in small mouthfuls of mushroom omelette - Saskia tensing herself for an interrogative grilling she really wasn't up for.

     'Can I ask where you were?'

     Yup. She was right.
     'Yeah. Dan's.' Neil's forehead gave a puzzled furrow so she had to help out. 'The big bloke you met the night you came to that gig with me'.

      Now it clicked. 'The guy from your high school?'
     'Yeah.''
     'Both nights?'
     'Both nights,' she confirmed.
     The protracted silence and refusal to look him in they eye concerned him, and the knot in his gut worsened enough to make him push his plate away. Saskia, in return, clanked her fork onto the plate and did the same.
     'He's decent, Dad. I didn't sleep with him in case that's bothering you.'
     'It's not,' he lied, for it flitted momentarily in his meantime, muddled mind. 'So, are you going to tell me what it was all about?'

     'You really don't wanna know.'

    The same troubled remark he made to Brian last night now exhausted him. 'For fuck's sake, Saskia...just tell me.'

    'I think she knows.'

     'What do you mean?' asked Neil, his heart banging like a demented dinner gong.
     'On my way out after a row she shouted something after me.'
     'Okay. What?'
     'That I'm returning home smelling more of you, than I am of myself.'

              End of ***SECRET***               

 

Secret (pt2)ch28

             Start of  ***SECRET***(pt 1)

🐦 She was a no show at the train station.  Friday night tumbled along the roads and pavements and Saskia still wasn't answering her phone.  People looked minute from the 18th floor, but he strained his eyes hoping to catch a glimpse of a platinum-blonde head bobbing among the multi-shades walking past below.

   It was 8.20pm and Brian, Neil's oldest friend from work - up for a document to take home - was surprised to see him through his glass box office, still fully suited and sitting perched on the corner of his desk looking miles away. He knocked once and entered. 

    'Alright there, Neil?' he inquired, noticing the fancy decanter of whisky on the table.  At work this usually indicated a problem or a long night.
     Neil swung his head round, unaware that Brian had crept up on him.  'Yes, just been a long day - you know.'

     'When are they never.  You seem a bit preoccupied, sure you're okay?'

     Giving a shrug, he sighed and replied. 'Could be better.' 

     Something must really be bothering him, Brian thought, as he noticed his tumbler was pretty full. A sudden and horrifying thought rushed to Brian's head and he reeled from the possibility.  'Not another lawsuit?' 

    He made it sound as if this was episodic, but the previous court case was a bit of a scary bastard. Luck (not bribery as the rumours went) only just rules in their favour. Had it gone the claimant's way it could very well have busted the department that Brian worked for.

    Neil gave a jerky little smile. 'Wish it was as simple as that but it's personal... stuff. Drink?'

    Brian raised a hand as shook his head just as something even worse flew to mind. As troubled as he looked there was no way he was touching, not even looking at Neil's balls for conformation of any bump or lump. 

     'Is it health related?' he asked nervously.

     'No. Still over the hill but doing okay.' He gave a smile at the relief on Brian's face.

     'So, what is it then, bud?'

     'Nothing you, or anyone, can help me with. Trust me, you really don't wanna know.'

      Brian was usually his sole confidante on anything personal or any company fuck-up, but he didn't like the manner in which this seemed to be heading.; telling him  he really wouldn't want to know made him all the more adamant to find out.

     'Do I have to keep reminding you that my father's a vicar, therefore I'm thick skinned too? I've heard all sorts - there isn't anything you can't say to me, you know that.' 

    'Believe me, this is off the scale.'

     'Have you murdered someone?' he asked sarcastically, starting to feel ticked off with his friend's reluctance to open up. 'Look, whatever's bothering you wants to come out otherwise you wouldn't even have hinted something was up.'

     Neil suddenly felt thankful of the male presence. Saskia had been his main company, main focus for so long now that he didn't quite consider how much of an impact this caused, how much he'd actually missed him.  But even so he averted his eyes and turned his head as he thought, but said he didn't want to burden him with this one. The decision did not go down well with Brian.

    'At least give me a clue to what it's about, man!' 

    Neil took a measured breath. This would be a bastard to put the right wording to,  but he didn't want to piss Brian about any longer; the man was committed now. 

   'It's my daughter. She didn't come home last night and her mother's frantic. She's called round hospitals, her friends and stuff. No joy. But she's still not answering anyone's calls or messages, and I've left umpteen voicemails. I'm not too sure what going on, but Beverly thinks she's not contacting me to worry her more.'

     'Ah, that's not so good,' he replied, but wondered why Neil couldn't have just told him this to begin with. 'Has Beverly mentioned a falling out or anything?' 

     'I picked up a hint that something may be up a few days ago but Saskia wasn't up for talking about it.' 

    Brian pouted and nodded, relating to parental struggles empirically. He first felt he'd lost his daughter when she started to wear black lipstick and clothes in adulation of some college band named Servile Sanction. He lost her completely a few months later when she moved in with the drummer - giving up her studies for a menial job to spend more time with him. So he could understand why Neil may be pent up over a runaway, but she was a grown woman, not a teenager. What was more puzzling was the extent to which  Neil had drunk so far (he could tell by the eyes it was a lot) and disinclination to say more; their affiliation was usually gustier than that. 

    'I'll drive you around if you want to want to search anywhere?' he offered.

     'Good of you, but I honestly wouldn't know where to start.' 

     'Well, it sounds like it's been a row between mother and daughter. It's a nightmare when they rebel. Our Danielle used to take sod-you hissy-fits before pissing off.  They make their way home soon enough. To be honest I'm more concerned with what you're not telling me. I know you, mate.'

   'You really don't,' Neil said, sliding off the desk edge to refill his glass. Words formed in his mind, reluctant to leave the tongue yet. He'd either have to go for it, or never do. With his back still to Brian, he took one pot-valiant glug; those hesitant words no longer held hostage...

     'I reckon it's been found out that we're sleeping together.'

     Down went the rest of the whisky in glug number two. There. They were out.

     'What?' Brian's eyes bulged at the news, taken aback. 'No wonder she's taken off then, she's probably pissed at you both if she didn't see that one coming. I'm surprised she's even up for sex! Doesn't the chemo and whatnot leave her too tired?'

    Neil's allusive way of bringing his secret into the open left Brian surmising that he's sleeping with Beverly under some sort of ex-reunion. 

   'I wouldn't know,' he quietly stated, trying to picture the confusion on Brian's face. How long would it take for the coin to drop?

    He soon disentangled the facts and stared in mute horror, before approaching him slowly. Neil's wandering gaze didn't know where to settle once he stood by him. 'Tell me you're not serious, man.'

   This time Neil looked at him; the raised eyebrows, the inward curl of the lips and the slight tilt of the head  - all confirming he was indeed sleeping with his daughter.

     At  a loss for words while processing the enormity of such a revelation, Brian stood stunned; a man of faith and patience, the reality of what had just occurred was almost beyond his belief.  All Neil's previous post-Magrette escapades: the clubs: the bragging of detailed sexual antics with classy escorts: the selfish slinging of emotions on young women: the drugs and threats of violence from husbands (all which, granted, he curbed years ago) had been unsavoury enough; this was mind-blowingly, jaw-droppingly, downright obscene. A grave quietness filled the office for what felt like forever, Neil dreaded his friend's next words, as he gave him a sideways stare, a damning pallor  took over his complexion. 

Brian hit himself with a huge glass of JD, draining the decanter empty.  'I've got this right now, haven't I, you mean Saskia?' he asked, in case this was some nightmare he was in, and had not just been told that his best friend was sexually involved with his own daughter.

   He nodded in assent.

   'For fuck's sake, Neil.' There it was, the rarity-swear from the most reasonable man he knew. 'I don't know what to think, let alone say!'

    'I don't expect anyone would.' 

     Pacing off, Brian was reluctant to even look at him now. He'd been supportive to Neil over the years,  opening that offer, where he could, to others; the go-to man for advice and remittal. It was a bit of a burden being religious, but no amount of hail Mary's would sort this one out. He reckoned even God would struggle with this dilemma. 

   'Brian, it's not something we asked for.'

    Watching his friend strutting about in a confused silence, Neil felt like shit. Putting himself in his friend's place, he most likely would have kicked him in the nuts by now to bring him to his senses. After two large gulps from the glass, Brian turned and let loose. 

     'I'm appalled Neil, utterly appalled.  You know what it's called, don't you?' The word stuck like a stone lodged in his throat. Respectable people have difficulty in even saying the word incest.

     Neil gave a nod and a semi-shameful smile. 'In too deep before we knew it.'

     'Too deep before we knew it,' he mimicked. 'It should never have gotten anywhere near that!'

     'It's not about allowing things reaching a certain point when it's near- impossible to fight, it was never going to be that simple.'

    'I don't think a judge would see it like that... '

    'Fuck's sake, Brian, would you really take this that far?'

    'Wouldn't like to have to but I'm struggling here... '

     Letting Brian wander about to quietly apperceive, Neil wondered which of his thoughts would crystallize into his next words, for he knew there was a choice looming; to side with the law and daub his oldest friend and his daughter in, or disown him altogether but keep shtum.  But it wasn't going to be easy, not for himself nor for his friend, to decide what the outcome of this conversation would hold.                'Any more of this stuff?' He held up his empty glass in front of Neil, who retrieved another bottle from a filing cabinet, refilling their glasses. It looked like he was, at least, sticking around for now. 'No gory details please, but how on earth did this come about, present itself?'

   'Well,' he sighed, gearing himself up for one hell of an explanation. 'Out of the blue at the at work's Christmas do...'

   Brian gave an incredulous sigh and rolled his eyes. 'Isn't it bloody always... '

   Ignoring the nippy comment, he continued. ' At the end of the night she told me how she felt and it totally threw me. The more we talked, the more we... well, let's just say the gory details followed.  I mentally fought it, fought it like fuck, but the urge got too strong.'

     'Or you were too weak?' Brian scratched his head, shaking it at the same time. This sounded very much like the Neil of old; the former one always had a twitch in his pants at a pretty face. Surely it had nothing to do with that? 'Your kid is an astoundingly eye-catching young woman, but I thought you gave up all that malarkey yonks ago - learned your lesson?' Brian knew that was an unfair comment to make, as he surely wouldn't have only seen his own daughter as a wretched old man's conquest, plus he knew Neil was reluctant to see her at all at the beginning.

     'Mate, it was never anything of that nature, more to do with need. Hers, mainly.'

     'I can't understand needing a father to that extent.'

     Neil sighed mightily and went for another peroxide-head check out the window, sitting back down at his desk with no flash of blonde about.

     'It's not all about sex. It's about something you don't feel or understand at first until it  hits you - she just got brave enough to be honest about it.' It was hard sharing what was inside his head, the vividness of his luscious sin. 'She fell in love just as people do and you can't legislate for loving someone, you've no choice in the matter.'

   Brian followed Neil's action and sat himself down at Jacqueline's desk. 'Fuck, Neil, do you really believe that shit?' he asked without rancour, but Neil took it rather testily.

     'Who are we hurting? Go on, answer me that! If two people are consenting and nobody is in danger, why should they worry if it's right or wrong for anyone but them?' 

    Was it too hard to understand that they cherished what private life was theirs? Outside they were still them, only a more sanitized version. 

     'What you're basically saying is that it's nobody else's business?'

     'Well, we weren't planning on announcing it.'

Standing abruptly, Brian - a stout man, whose large square glasses were misting up - had to remove his jacket as notch three of the desk fan wasn't dealing with the temperature as good now the air conditioning timer had stopped.  As he offloaded some more, Neil could intuitively tell that his friend still wasn't digesting matters well, so he hoped by Brian allowing the Jack Daniels to find it's way into his glass for a third over-filled time may help; although there was still that module of fear in his throat no matter how much the spirit washed over it. 

     'I'm doing my damnedest to process all of this, Neil.  I mean some would probably say fair play to you for banging a cracking looking bird half your age, but it's so unsettling knowing that she's your...  your child.' 

   'That's just it though... she was never my child, I never knew any child.' He remembered Saskia's prior rationale on the matter with her. 'We met as adults, and not responsible for all those lost years, and I guess that's how the complexities kick in.  Us having met was overwhelming and drew out all these other reactions and were swept along with the rush.  I mean it's not like this was something we thought we'd look into, she's not been in my bed from day one, it took time to manifest.  Sure, it would have been far better to have known her as a baby, but when we met she was a bit too big to bounce on my knee.'

     'But not off your hips though, eh?' 

     Neil scoffed at Brian's continued contempt, sucking-in his lips with slow acknowledgement nods which usually translated as good one, mate  or I deserved that.  If anyone was to say as he saw fit, this theistic man was, never holding back in the slightest in letting you know exactly what you needed to hear; all those years of Sunday Sermons, no doubt. 

   'You're making it sound vulgar, Brian, and it's not.'

    And just in case he wasn't getting it, Brian upped his tone.  'You're dipping  your dick in your daughter, Neil, how else would others see it? People can't reason, lawfully or morally, outwith the bounds of decency.'

     'Decency?' Neil scoffed. 'Fuck, I can remember not so long ago every cunt here was patting John Gregson on the back when he bragged about screwing his step-daughter.'

     'Who?' Brian asked muzzily, until the incident became fresh in his mind again. 'Oh, her that went on to star in those pop-up adverts online... I don't think that constitutes much of a similarity, I mean it's down to actual flesh and blood in your case.'

 'Jesus... state the ruddy obvious... '  Neil muttered under his breath. In-depth understanding wasn't on the cards here, and he was getting weary from the backlash - but he appreciated he was lingering on with him nonetheless; with their long friendship to consider it earned him, at least, some tolerance; he could be on the floor nursing a bloody nose, or on his way to a cop shop.

    'Look, I see supposable fathers and daughters every bloody where, acting with as much social decorum as us, and that does intensify that what we're doing is wrong... ' he admitted, but I don't look at the bloke and think, och, you don't know what you're missing , mate... I can be swallowed up by iniquity at times, I'm not totally carefree.'

   'Yet your illegal indulgence carries on... '

   'Yup - the second I see her again. It's too complex for anyone to understand how she needs me... '

 Thrusting himself free from the desk, the room felt air-stifled, extra intense. Neil removed his jacket and threw it haughtily over the opposing chair, striding across to the window again.  Brian noticed the huge damp patches from his armpits, something he never thought he'd witness ever; that Neil sweated at all was scarcely credible. Fuck, he must be really frazzled. '...and near impossible to understand that this doesn't feel perverted.'

    'And it's as simple as that... ' Brian concluded on Neil's behalf as he watched him glower into his glass of amber; the drink stare.  If only the melioration to all this mess floated about with the soda. The grip this girl had on him must be ferocious; this was some fucked up fait-accompli.  

   He didn't quite know where to go from here. In years gone by he'd been the only one brave enough to challenge Neil, often enjoying rubbing his nose in his wrongdoings. But he felt the initial disgust and anger ebbing as concern started to squeeze a way through. What the fuck has his friend done? He felt a direct plea might be his only hope, which he made as Neil continued his window-stare.

     'Please do the right thing and end this.'

     'How? By never seeing her again?'

     'May be for the best.'

     'What?' Neil answered jarringly, turning from the window to face him. 'I'm standing here worried to fuck, aching for her safe return, and you want me to tell her to fuck off before she's even back?

    'It's not what I meant.' Brian sighed. It was an inopportune moment for the plea; Neil was too hot and emotionally fraught.

   'Too late for that anyhow, it would be disastrous, hurt even more.'

   It was already fucking disastrous. It was distressing to see the twisted torture going on in that twisted mind under those twisted grey waves. Concluding that there would be no cogency in painting him a sick bastard anymore, and despite the situation, he thought it best to go easier on him, feeling the need to at least highlight some basic acumens;

   'You don't think she'd ever blab, do you - get drunk and spill the beans or something?'

   'She's 27, not some hormonal teenager. Mind you,' he raised a little smirk, 'she's about as exhausting as one at times. She's adult enough to keep shtum.'

     'Adult enough, but just done a runner.' Brian reminded him, 'I'm not being— '

     Neil sighed heavily. 'I know it appears that way, and of course there's worry as to where the fuck she is, but Beverly does think she's not contacting me, to worry her  more, I just need to  fathom out why.' 

      A horrifying possible cause tore itself through Brian's mind. 'She couldn't be pregnant could she?'              Neil was surprised he hadn't mentioned that before now.  'No, that's well taken care of.' 

     'Fuck, that would be horrendous.' Jail for you, and a kid in care... he refrained from sarkily adding.
     'Really, it's fine.' Neil replied assuredly, and Brian sorely hoped that that was true. Every birthday Neil's father would joke that he was getting him a vasectomy for it. Fingers crossed he'd taken him up that offer. 

     'So... what happens if her mother does know?' Brian asked the superseding question in all this fatuity. 

     Neil remained silent for a moment.  'That's what puzzling me. If she has blabbed to her mum...' he shrugged, palms upturned, 'why isn't she ripping me to bits over the phone, and why would Saskia not warn me?'

    'True.' Brian's insides were starting to twist again, anger bubbling back with all this shit his friend had bestowed on himself. But he'd promised himself to keep as calm as he could; a swear would need to suffice. 'This is some bastard of a mess, Neil. You gotta be scared as fuck... '

      'Something's up, that I'm sure of. It's the not knowing what that's worse. I need Saskia here to find out what, but I need her to be okay more than anything.'

     'She wouldn't do anything stupid, would she?'

    'Beverly doubted that too. But the more time passes, the more I'm inclined  to start considering that.' 

     They stood side by side, staring at nothing and everything out the window.  

                    end of ***SECRET*** (pt 1)