Beautiful Pain (ch38)

        start of  ***BEAUTIFUL  PAIN***

⏳ A month down the line had passed when he caved, sending her an impeccably worded  text asking her not to reply but to meet him Tuesday night by the benches outside the Mossfield Hotel - a small licensed establishment beside the handy strand of one-stop shops that they often used. It was a twenty minute walk from his flat and he decided that meeting her at an outdoor, quiet location wouldn't feel so troublesome; he couldn't face having her back at his home.    

   Saskia had remained determined not to contact him beforehand now that he had apparently unblocked her number. Perhaps he'd already blocked it again, but she didn't want to know that: she would rather be carried along by the anaesthesia of false hope, than none at all.  It was imperative her mother didn't get a whisper of this as she couldn't allow anything to balls this chance up; as much as she dreaded it at the same time.   

Despite an earlier growing hunger, Neil couldn't face any food, he just changed quickly into jeans and casual jumper, necking a couple of whiskies before setting off. There was a chance she might not even show up, but he doubted it.

   Sitting on a bench by the riverside, he saw a car parking in the grounds of the hotel, and made out her shape behind the wheel. She gave it a couple of minutes before getting out to walk towards him, taking each step with her head bowed as if ready for the guillotine.

   She came into closer view with looks that defied earthly reasoning.  God, was she beautiful, standing there in those funky clothes she deemed her own, her hair misbehaving in the breeze. It was hard to believe something so exquisite had the kiss of a cancer, mouth of a chronic liar.  For once, those padded lips didn't induce that dimpled, captivating smile on seeing him. He tensed a little as she sat a respectable gap from him by the arm of the bench, instantly feeling his recrimination by the set of his shoulders. He spoke first;

   'You know... I wondered what words would spring to mind first on seeing you, and I think congratulations is fitting enough.'
   She wasn't going to hit him with an apology right away, that would be too insulting. 'You didn't deserve it. I really do feel awful.'
   'Do you?' he scoffed.  'And I'm still finding it an amazing thing to try to pull off, especially the tenacity it was done under. Fell right for it as well, like a right bloody idiot.'
   'It all started to change and I didn't know what else to do.'
   'Not taking part to start with... how's that for a suggestion?'
   Saskia lowered her head. 'Mum's a hard person to say no to.'

   'So all of it... her idea?' he queried, not that it made much difference to him now, but he had to ask. 'No 'No fucking around, I want to know as much as possible, beginning to end. I'm owed that at least.'

   'Yes, I know you are. I'll try my best to—'

   'Sod any best effort, Saskia... just start talking before I change my mind and up and leave.'

   Saskia threw her head to the skies, taking a deep, bracing breath. 'Okay, okay.' She nodded. 'It all stemmed from an article and photo in the newspaper, the one with you holding your Businessman of the Year award. Grampa had a copy of the paper by his bed at the nursing home, folded over at that very page. Mum come across it when we were clearing his room after he died.'

   'And that pushed her to come up with this elaborate plan?'
   Both were looking straight ahead, not yet meeting eye to eye. Saskia had vowed to tell him the truth - no matter how much it may hurt -  as the police hadn't uncovered everything to him in their inquires.
   'That's what incited her, she blamed that for his death. But things got worse after she found out that Grampa didn't have a little nest egg tucked aside for us after all when he died.  The house was the only asset to our name and the mortgage became solely for us to find. Then when Fay - the friend we ran Cooper's Café with - got her cancer diagnosis told her that she wouldn't be helping to renew the lease on the café once the year was up, she got desperate - panicking that we'd not have enough money to eventually settle down in Spain with Corrine.'

   Neil was listening keenly, curious to find out if the version the police gave him carried the same details.

    'She knew how readily money poured in for charity - it certainly did at Fay's coffee morning. People take pity, don't they? And once she'd had her shaved head, the whole concocted idea came about. Exactly how much was thought out by that point, I can't remember, but she kept at me with this crazy plan. '

   Sitting forward now, elbows on knees and clasping his hands, he let out a huge sigh. 'And you quite happily went along with it?'

   'No, no... not at first. Of course I thought she was mad... until it all spilled out.'

   'About my father, I'm guessing?'  

   ' Yeah, I got told it all. - The financial history, and how you and your father destroyed our lives.  You were painted darker than black, and I was convinced you deserved it at first. And if her plan failed, she was prepared to the take full blame; I was to act like I was a victim, too, pretend that I didn't know either, and I suppose because she was willing to take the rap, it gave me the confidence to be so bold with what I felt for you.' 

    Neil could remember DCI Bruce telling him that, too. Why she swapped sticking to something that would exonerate her, for a full confession that implicated her, he wasn't sure. Police involvement finally bouncing her back to reality? He doubted she was sure of that herself. In the name of love or not, it was simply too little, too late.

   Saskia could see out the corner of her eye that he had turned to face her, and now looked at him too.

   'So, how were you to extort money from me?'
   'Ask for it. For a flat, car, or just outright. She didn't care how, that bit was up to me.'

   'Why not just call my office, I mean she managed to hunt me down? If her letter had been worded strongly enough, I would probably have just given her it had she asked.'
   'She wasn't wanting to take that chance of refusal.'
   'So instead she invented us - with the added bonus of crushing me at the same time.'
   'Please believe I didn't know you at all, hadn't even heard of you when I agreed to the underhandedness of stringing you along, and I'd no idea how much she loathed you.' With eyes closed , she gently shook a remorseful head at what she'd done. 'It was to be quick and easy, I shouldn't have let things get as far as they did.'  

   'Then why did you?'
   Eyes opening, she frowned in confusion; surely it was obvious. 'I had to. I'd fallen for you.'
   He sneered.  'Och, how can you say that, Saskia?'
   'Because it's true! The longer she waited for her money the longer I had you.' A bright coral flush  crawled over her chest and neck.

   Neil sat up straight again and angled himself to face her more.  'Just how long was that to be? I mean it was to have a final outcome, an end at some point - surely?'

   'I know!' she said loudly, quickly losing composure; he'd wondered how long it would take the quivery chin and waterworks to begin. 'But I had to carry on keeping you in the dark, and telling her I needed more time despite the risks. But each day we had together was a bonus, and I wouldn't accept any night being the last I may see you, so I had to do my damnedest to keep that ending from happening. I mean, I could have fleeced you months ago, and fucked off, you know that.'

   'Oh, aye, that I do. And the old fool would have coughed up so you and your mother, or whomever, could be whooping it up in a fountain of sangria right now.'
   They both held a willful silence as a woman walking her dog was passing. The wiry scruff of a thing made a diagonal pull on its retractable leash towards them, hoping for scratch on the head. As disinterested as he was with dogs, he watched it up on its back legs, tail wagging briskly as it sniff and licked away at the salty wetness from Saskia's cheeks. She mustered up the need to give the dog some attention back before its owner pulled it away, apologising for its pestering. And Neil thought dogs were good at character judgment; seems she had a charm over animals, too. He waited until the woman was out of earshot before continuing.

   'You played your part so well, Saskia. That word Dad seemed to flow off your tongue fluently, you didn't falter, not once.'

   'I didn't care what word was used to keep you in my life, what lie was needed. You had to lie yourself  to the police to keep me in yours.'

   'Thought I was lying...' he snidely corrected her.

   'But that's what we were willing to do, wasn't it?'

   He was reluctant to answer as he knew she was right, and she used this as a spark of encouragement that he may be beginning to accept her plight. With something important to fight for she had to be that bit bolder, get results in what ever manner it took.

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 'Look, I switched off reality to live the fantasy. I was so proud calling you my dad And it was easier to live that lie when you've a mother who didn't want you; when you're the result of drunken nights during the holiday season. Fuck knows who my dad is, so forgive me for getting carried away and feeling what being wanted was actually like!'

   'Forgive you? Ah, hold on... am I supposed to feel sorry for you here?' Neil asked austerely.

   'No, of course not, I'm the one who's sorry. You did feel real to me, though.'
   'Aye, real enough for me to sink to the depth of depravity for you, while you were living in this constructed fantasy. You knew it wasn't incest!' His gaze pierced and drilled more guilt into her heart. 

   Saskia covered her face with her hands, she knew she'd gutted this man and it hurt.  All that emotion she spouted at the hotel at Christmas, so cunningly interwoven to snare him: breaking laws, rearranging his life, his future, putting her first above everything. But the illicit sex, as wrong as it was, wasn't the high for him.  As much as it was (supposedly) a comfort to her -  one that she was in control of and could stop if she wished so -  it was the simple father-daughter connection he subsisted on. But though her remorse surfaced, he remained unaffected.

   'I hate myself for what I've done to you. I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry.' she repeated those useless words as she leaned forward, hugging herself as if she had tummy ache. Neil knew she was genuinely hurting by the clouds forming on that flawless forehead. The apology begged forgiveness, but he took no notice - what was she really expecting? 

  'Sorry for what? Near destroying me and my sanity? Turning me into a laughing stock?  Or the end of the luxuries and expensive presents?' Neil knew that his latter comment was below the belt. What were odd hundreds here and there to a multi-millionaire? But he had to remember he was the one who endured the worst of this ordeal.

   Sobs came, huge and hearty and he let them last until she attempted to regain composure, trailing a sleeve under her nose and sniffed. 'I'm sorry for it all. I really am.'

   'No amount of heartfelt sorries will ever cut it, Saskia. You've no idea what I've been through.' 
   He stood, running a hand through his hair as he turned and faced the river, giving her a better glance at the large flowery gift bag that had been resting by his side. He picked up on this and followed her line of vision. 

   'Ah,' he said, pertaining to it by sliding it over to her,  'While we're kinda on the subject, I brought the last of the smaller things you left in the flat, posted your clothes and bigger things on this morning.' 

   Bang went the very slim chance that the gift bag was some sort of forgiveness present, and she felt stupid for allowing herself that tiny surge of optimism. The remainder of her stuff had to go to erase the deceit and mind-twisting lies of her true character. 

   He never thought he'd ever know her other than being his daughter; under whose warped confabulation transformed him dramatically. What a pity what had started so promisingly (initially shaping him into a man with priority outside work and wealth) had ended in such a mess. Both had been refusing to face facts, bringing the other spectacularly down in the harshest of ways. But there comes a time where you can only expend so much effort and energy and his was now spent; hers well and truly squandered. As he remained standing, she thought this an indication for him being ready to leave.

   'Please don't go!' she begged. 'Please, just stay a bit longer... ' She had been on the verge of saying Dad. That word she coined and believed in in her own dizzy head. 'I've booked a room in the hotel, can't we just go there to talk - have a drink?'
   He laughed incredulously. 'You think this will all be forgotten with a bottle and a bed?  You've fucked me up enough. Don't flatter your sweet-little-self. Big Julia would be in with a better shout than you.'  The insult cut deeper than his thunderous expression.

   'Just give me five minutes, in there.' She nodded to the the hotel. 'We can't talk properly out here. Please!' Her voice, head and heart all spoke to him at once. 'Let me at least try to—'

   'For Christ's sake... this can never be resolved, Saskia! What else could you possibly say that would excuse or even make sense of this shit?' He took a few steps away from her, forcing her to her feet, and she flinched a little as he swung swiftly round to face her.  'D'you want to know the utterly pathetic bit in all this, the thought I struggle with every day? All I had to do was check, to make sure you were really my daughter.  A simple test, phone call, even. But who lies about having cancer and children they never even had, who in their right mind goes to that extreme? Beverly pulled a classic double bluff on me, she really would have been better suited to my father! But you, daddy's-little-nobody, helped her cover those tracks quite competently, you kept it going far, far too long. You could have done something about it and you didn't!'

   His words sounded raw, but nothing was more raw than her heart. 'I wanted to tell you the night the police visited us, but I was scared.'

   'You were selfish, you mean. Why didn't you just stiff me over at the start, saved all this torment?'

   'Why didn't you just let me go home from that Christmas party when I wanted to, instead of sending my taxi away?'

   'So this is all MY fault, is it?'

   He turned from her. This was pointless. He'd heard her version, had his say, given her her belongings, No more. He took one last look at the girl who graced his life and shattered his love.

   'Bye, kiddo.' he said, knowing that the term-of-endearment would sting even more. Taking a second to catch his breath, he tucked his hands in his pockets and started to saunter away.

   'Don't you feel anything for me anymore?' she cried after him.

Without looking back, he answered over his shoulder:  'Not since the day you cut off our bloodstream!'

This couldn't be it. Each stride away from her had her head pulse with agitation. Erratic gulps of air were taken between the desperate pleas that loaded themselves on her tongue, but were too quiet for him to hear in her effort to simply breathe.  After one huge inhale she screamed out, 

  'But I  love you, Neil!' 

  He kept on moving.

   A sudden night chill passed through her bare legs, whisking up an unspoken fear that this would be the last time she'd see him, and under a rush of utter panic she ran after him, an unremitting no no no reverberating in her head with each footstep that clumped on the cobbles.  Before he knew it, she grabbed him by the arm in a effort to halt him, and in return received a hard and unexpected strike to the cheek. As her hands went up to nurse the sting he stared at her, near nose to nose.

   'Can you not just accept that it's over!'

   'Please, just—'

   'Okay then, 'Neil snarled, 'maybe this might sink in. As sick and psycho as I thought we both were... you still killed my daughter. Just really think about that, Saskia. And who could forgive that... huh?' After another vile stare he raised an index finger to her face, his breath warming her chin. 'Do not follow me home.'

   In complete disbelief at having been hit with such velocity, a stunned Saskia watched as he rounded the corner.  His parting words were pretty clear; she meant nothing to him now.

  Lost and depleted, with a heavy heart she returned to the bench.  A few people - halted by the outburst -witnessed the assault, but only one elderly man approached her to check if she was alright. Asking if she wanted him to walk her home or to safety, she said no, but he felt more eased on hearing she was booked into the hotel. 

   Lifting the gift bag, she trudged her way, red-faced and mascara streaked, to the little off-licence they frequented most Wednesday's, where they'd read the labels on wine bottles—he for quality, she for volume.  Tonight's lone visit was to call for something considerably stronger....

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He arrived back at his apartment block, yet couldn't remember taking the route home, but he was there outside his door - somehow. 

   Keys fell as he tried to unlock the door and on bending to retrieve them, they slipped through his fingers for a second time. With heady thoughts challenging his coordination, he turned his back to the door and slid to the tiled flooring as unexpected tears of despondency ran salted water into his mouth.  Gut-wrenching sobs tore through his chest; loud with intermittent wails echoing in the space around him.  Hugging his knees to him, horrid and happy visions spewed back at him, each vying to dominate his mind, worsening his weeping and inducing random ramblings.

   Like a feckless child, he dragged himself to his feet, telling himself all he needed to do was get indoors and get a grip. After a few attempts through blurring tears he was in. He tried to compose himself with a whisky, but he was emotionally beaten, those scenarios in his mind still menacingly prolonging the grief that had circled inside him for four long weeks. Seeing her again was supposed to be an end, a release from the pain, but he never anticipated the hurt being this strong. 

   Downing two more straight whiskies, he threw himself longways on the couch, staring his torment at the ceiling. He wondered if he'd ever live life outside his head again. Everything now would be based on bedrocks of if only. But the ruinous thing about if only, is its power of forever reminding you of your failings and its reluctance of allowing you to move on without regrets.

Around an hour later, as he felt the dried salt from his tears tacky on his skin, he'd reached a cried-out calm. Reliving the evening in his mind, he started to feel bad about hitting her.  His palm smarted from the brisk contact, so he imaged the skin of her soft cheek hurt one helluva lot more. Never before had he struck a woman, and despite the uncaring pig his father was, he had stressed to his son to never lay a finger on them; why hit women when they had hearts to break - something, ironically, his own mother could attest to. While Saskia's slap marks were beginning to fade, his conscience-on-the-couch was starting to sting. The man, felt the slap - deserved or not - unjustified.  

   Breaking his decision that he was done drinking for the night, he rose and headed for the decanter, and just as the glass touched his lips, the hands of the rotating sand clock that Saskia had made for him, reached the hour, turning its glass-boxed edges to rest in new layers. Slowly he rose and went over to examine what ridges and shapes it had settled in.  

   There was nothing there. No hill scene, no waves like the sea, no ripply field of wheat, no other discerning feature, just bland smooth sand, and the tick of the clock he'd failed to part with, urging him to go. Cursing himself for his next actions, he grabbed his jacket, switched his phone back on and legged it out the door.  

   'I must be off my damned head.' he said aloud, as the lift doors closed. 

               end of  ***BEAUTIFUL  PAIN***

outdated facilities, slack in maintenance checks, cleanliness enough

Ghost of You (ch37)

              start of  ***Ghost  Of  You***

👻 A lot of trepidation goes along with keeping someone at bay, anticipating what might be, trying to keep one step ahead. Neil had respected the lengths Brian had gone to, and recompensed by returning to the office just a few days after his visit. Fuck any rumours or whispers - he was the boss after all. Immersing himself in work seemed to be fairing well, and the first few work-dominated days passed so quickly and lucidly he hardly felt them happening. Until today.

      How she knew he had returned to work he didn't know, but an unprecedented amount of mapping out your daily regime so as to avoid any unpleasant clashes or upsets, had to be put in place. There had been calls to his office in his absence - of which Brian directed were not to be logged or disclosed - and four days had passed with no further attempts.

    Initially, the begging and apologies had started to come thick and fast; by letters to his home, some to his work or by email - all of which were sent back or office staff deleted. Then she'd started using other mobiles after he'd blocked her number, but any unrecognizable number got blocked too; Saskia didn't expect forgiveness and open arms, but she didn't bank on him being quite so thorough at warding her off either.

    Last week in particular, she'd tried fruitlessly at Balfour Complex to gain entry to his flat, but never making it past reception. She'd run out of options; only his workplace left to target, and today - in person - was the day. First checking his car was in the lot, she brazenly marched through the doors and entered the building, a huge smile plastered her face for greeting the woman at the desk. That was as far as she got.

    Neil was tipped off by reception and left the office quietly. A nervous flurry was rising in his chest as he went to the corridor window to tilt the blinds, catching the scene at the exact moment the peaked hatted and shoulder-patched security guards were turfing her back outside.  What started with female charm and pitiful lies soon led to shouting, before turning into a  tussle. Her undeterred dodging and weaving forced pedestrians (some vying for the best vantage point to watch this brand of city entertainment) onto the road lest they risk a slug from her flailing arms - and by the looks of it she was proving to be some challenge.  But the uniformed heavies - one now uncapped - had chastened her, sitting her down on the low, decorative wall that edged the building. 

   Neil's heart pinched when one of the men squatted to her level, and put a hand on her shoulder while exchanging words; he'd been too high to hear the words the commotion had contained, and he wondered what she might be saying as streaky wet mascara, plummeted her heart even further down into those clumpy shoes. Moments later, she accepted defeat and with head down, hands in pockets, she sauntered off.

   It was the first he'd laid eyes on her in weeks, and though it had been rather pitiful to watch, the antics of her ignoble, ignominious display had coaxed the corners of his mouth up ever so briefly; the girl had fought her corner to a helluva degree. But all it took was a millisecond for grim recollections to come flooding back, reminding him that he was still standing there an object of ridicule.

  He had expected the apologies and the sob story at some point, but not quite this soon; maybe she felt enough time had passed for him to expunge any hurt, maybe she believed he'd accept her reasons why... But knowing her (and despite it all, he still very much did), he wouldn't put it past her to try again.  Any more attempts from her today, bold or booze-soaked, and the police would have to be involved. At least his office staff were very much heads-down and unaware of any chaos down below. Not that they would be stupid enough to make a fuss over it - not if they still valued their jobs. 

 

Once she had disappeared from sight, he turned and leaned back against the window ledge, stuffed his hands in his trouser pockets and closed his eyes for a few moments; the outcome was not to be this, it was to be together whatever. Distance. Lies. Sacrifice. They promised they'd do everything in their power to have some form of future - even if it meant lying to a sick and dying woman. What a farce all that turned out to be. And to think he used to berate himself for considering how easier life would be if Beverly did die. But he had to be thankful for small(ish) mercies. Had they been related, the press could be dining out on his suffering and disgrace, too.

   After staring out the shine in the tips of his shoes, he suddenly vamoosed, made a beeline straight out of the building instead of going back to his desk. There was a brief moment's temptation to walk in the direction Saskia headed, ever so annoyingly brief. But his heels turned the opposite way, and his aimless walking found him, for the first time, in the little pub that he'd passed on route for over 20 years. How ironic for it to be named The Thrifty Thinker when his head was loaded and all over the place. Work had seen the last of him today.

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Next morning, the dominant fear that she would show up at his workplace again today left him weary; the proper shindy she caused on the pavement below - like a drunk trying to re-enter a nightclub - wouldn't be allowed for a second time without police involvement.

   He'd only been back at work a few days, and already he was considering taking the day off. Last week's thoughts, prior to Brian's visit, favoured leaving work altogether. Fulfilment had fucked off years ago, and all that was left was inconsequential coming and goings. Even of he did retire, right here, right now, what would he do? Starting again hadn't a ghost in hell's chance, and with this one-sided-incest detriment hanging over him, bringing back his former social life again felt too challenging.  

   Yet challenging was what life with Saskia had been - quick and anomalous, not knowing what madcap idea would spring to her mind, or tug at your heartstrings. He'd loved her effortlessly as a daughter, and ferociously as a lover; utterly sweet disaster. All he was doing was sliding back down the snake to square one, no matter how many soul-destroying times the dice rolled. But still he drove to work; if she showed up she showed up — he was determined not let avoidance take hold again. 

     

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Brian was doing his best to look after him, but his wife didn't want him back in her house. She gave no objection to her husband supporting an old friend, but since the old friend had seemed impassioned enough to be sleeping with his own daughter, the lip of her door acted very much as a barrier; he may be cleared but he still played ball. It was a horrible feeling having no-one to turn to; so his home became his sole sanctuary, but he wasn't alone, she still festered and oozed inside him like a sore, her ethereal essence always around. 

  

He tried his best to let only the guest room contain her, piling all her stuff onto the bed.  But even out of sight, she still showed up; in single strands of hair that seemed to find themselves everywhere; in the imprint on the chair she favoured, now dipped in the middle where she always sat upon tucked-under feet; from bits of her in the once-organised-but-now-junk drawer; from sticky smears on jars and bottles; from crumbs lodged in various places.  It would take a whole lot more than soap suds to wash her away. Maybe once he rids himself from the ghost of her will he find any release. He'd ignored them long enough. Her things had to go.

         end of  ***GHOST  OF  YOU***

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Put You Together Again (CH36)

 start of **PUT  YOU  TOGETHER  AGAIN**

🙌 Neil was in the shower when concierge tried reaching him, but they knew Brian well enough to still allow him access. But when Brian tried the holiday-key Neil once issued him with, the key didn't fit. Shouting through the letterbox for him got no reply and panicked him a bit. Relieved to see Neil padding about (thankfully with a towel wrapped around his middle) he withdrew his fingers and pounded on the door. Neil dreaded it being the police again, yet answering to Brian felt worse. Nonetheless, he opened the door, allowing him in. Neil pointed to the percolator and told him to help himself while he jumped into slopping out clothes. Reappearing in night-wear, Brian saw a face portraying utter misery and felt the vulnerability radiate from him. Even just hearing Neil's phone's after the tone voicemail message (all of which he was ignoring) sounded like a voice from another lifetime. One of a busy, confident man genuinely sorry he could not be with you this moment. 

   'If I wasn't in the shower, I'd have told concierge not to let you in.' Neil scoffed, but being perfectly honest.

   'You're not returning calls or messages, what else are folk to do?'

   'Folk?' Neil quipped. 'As if my absence from folk in the office will be sorely missed.'

   'Some of us still do care, you know.'

   'Really? I doubt you'll be saying that shortly.'

   'Why? What's happened now?' Brian asked warily.

   He sighed. 'A whole new kick in the bollocks and no-one would have seen this one coming.'

The sordid story come pouring out, and Brian sat benumbed. The warped world he'd spun himself into just got a lot more twisted. How on earth would Neil bounce back from this one? Humility was hard enough on everyday folk, but men with such high standards couldn't take such idiocy and shame to the bar with them. Hiding away was the last thing he should be doing, but the only thing he could think of.  

   'How long before you return to work?' Brian needed to know his mindset. There was now more going on in his friend's head than he feared he could handle. 

   'Now, there's a question!' he smiled, pensively. 'Right now, I'm an invisible imbecile. You're the only one apart from the police who knows the truth, and pride's going to make sure that I don't take this any further. Ultimately, they haven't gained but I've lost more than money. Work? Last thing on my mind. Be a long while before I show up again.'

   Brian thought a moment. 'I understand where you're coming from but... '

   'Look,...my absence, as long or short as it may be, would be put down to the abhorrent stories of my 'goings on' with my daughter. They'll be relishing in that for months to come - that'll be tough enough - but I've got a double whammy to contend with though now, haven't I?'

   'How do you mean?'

   Neil lowered his and pressed his lips together briefly when seeing Brian's quizzical face. 'Wouldn't it be great to say that I wasn't a dirty old fucker? That all our denials had substance behind them and it was mere, brutal gossip? I now have the evidence to prove that it wasn't incest after all, but it doesn't make one iota of a difference.'

   'Oka-a-ay...' Brian said slowly, not quite getting the gist.

   'Think about it, Brian. It would feel ten times worse if the true story got out there. There's no way in this world I could live with revealing what truth outscored the biggest lies I've ever fallen for. And the papers would have a field day if they got a sniff of it. Besides, I still thought I was sleeping with my own daughter  - didn't I?...Fuck! ' Neil's head fell into his hands as he sat forward in his chair, rubbing his temples with his thumbs.

   'You okay?' 

   Neil straightened up, tilting back his head as if defying tears to fall. 'I've spend days in disbelief, in total torture wondering why I allowed this to happen.'

   'You weren't to know.'

   'I don't mean being duped, I mean letting her in my bed. Why on earth didn't I stop myself before it got too crazy. I fucking gravitated to the lowest level, let something I should have kept under control win. I feel like a miscreant, seedy, vile. But that's what I get for visiting places no father - or whatever the fuck I thought I was - should dare to go. It hurts, Brian, this time too much, but it's justice, isn't it?' 

   Brian kept quiet for a bit to digest this reasoning, totally understanding where he was coming from. It was a pity it had taken till now to feel the tempestuous shame and guilt. But that was the impact she'd had on him; it had all been veiled by what he considered love.

   'You know, Neil, initially when I found out about you both it threw me - morally and mentally. But it  happens more often than people care to even think about, and it's not even criminalised in many countries. Who hasn't heard or read about this sort of thing from long lost relatives? And let's face it, it's not like there's a drop-in centre or support group is there? Sometimes intuition is stronger than the fear of laws.'

   'Don't tell me you've been researching stuff like that?' Neil frowned and gave Brian a flicker of a smile - he wouldn't put it past him.

   'Let's just say, being the son of a vicar, I'm here for the greater good of man - even arseholes like y—'

   'D'you want to fill my retiring bootsor not?' Neil interjected (while Brian squinted and stared down his nose at him pleased though, that a little banter had sparked up), making a carry on hand gesture with his wrist.

  'I'm getting there, I'm getting there!' the friend scoffed.  'After a while I made my own mind up that yeah, in the eyes of the law you were wrong, but of what, really? Understanding human nature's never been straightforward, your body's reacting to what's in the head and it wasn't fulfilled until you hit the sack with her.' 

  Jesus, Neil thought, he really has been looking shit up!

  'You were both consenting adults, and didn't set out to hurt anyone, despite the risks. And let's face it, you feared you were going to be the only family she had left. Personally, I still think it was madness. But why worry so much about right and wrongs for anyone else's beliefs and ethics... including my own?' Brian concluded rather grandly.    

   Neil was taken aback, totally gobsmacked at his friend's bombastic, but much-needed ranting. 'God, Brian... and I didn't purposefully blaspheme there... but have you just come out with that to try and make me feel better, or did you really mean that?'

   'Mate, I had no idea Saskia screwed you over before I came here, did I, so of course I meant it. I've had time to think in length. That's the thing about Bible-bashers, we don't always agree with the law, we have our own ways. Why d'you think so many people find God when in prison? We've all had a stint in the gossipmonger-court-of-morals; certain things should have fuck all to do with anybody else.'

   'Except Valerie.' Neil piped up, with a wry smile.

   'Ah, well, you slipped up there, but I can still imagine it was a shock for her.'

   'Well, I understand now why it took her up until her niece dobbed me in; must have been a hard decision. I had a soft spot for her you know, a real hard worker. She'd oi, oi, oi, at every messy desk she tidied, fussed about me like a mother-hen, 

                              'Member to tuck scarf ride roun,, it butter out der...' 

   

   Brian smiled humbly at his friend's impersonation. He hadn't quite been the depraved beast he was painting himself, just a kind-hearted knob with blinkers. 'Not that it matters now, of course.'

   'Aye, that's true... ' Neil fell into brief silence as flashes of Saskia came crashing back, always unbidden, unannounced. He blinked himself out of his stare as Brian words melted into here and now fact. He was right. It didn't matter now - but where would he go from here? Who would grant any man clemency for sleeping with his daughter? Even finding himself inculpable provided no hope. Beverly had worked hard to do such a number on him and succeeded impeccably. 'It was still sick though, wasn't it?'

   'Fuck sake... ' Brian whispered, nettled by his friend's reluctance to give himself a break. 'Okay, then, Neil. Maybe it was a sickness, of the mind, of the soul, fuck knows. Every sickness comes to an end, though, and I'm sorry yours ended the way it has, but it's done now.'

   Biting down on his bottom lip, feeling as if he was about to be ambushed by tears again, Neil nodded.  This visit from Brian had proved to be excruciatingly poignant, because at times of absolute anguish it takes just a small token to restore faith again. It was what this visit from Brian was all about. and that was before the whole story was known.

                                       *                                         *                                        *

It had to come up; work and his intention towards it. Neil had made a second round of coffee for them both. He had noted on answering the door that Brian was suited and booted; no doubt slogging his guts out keeping two departments running. But he didn't feel in the least bit ready to return to any incumbent or leisurely life.  

   'So, when will you be back in the office?'

   'Och, I can't see that being anytime soon.'

   'You can't stay here and fester either, it would cripple you, mate.'

   'Couple of weeks, maybe.' Neil said, purely to appease him.

   Brian could remember him saying that he'd be willing to give work and all his ventures up to be with Saskia. But how gutting would it be to do just that, not only without the girl, but from humiliation too?   Regardless of Neil's present thoughts, Brian would need to turn second in command longer, and continue to be one hell of a sharp organiser; he'd already proved to be an even bigger friend.

   'Look, this has been all quite... I think demoralising is too mild a word, but just promise me one thing?     'What?'

   'Don't make any rash decisions right now. You've built up your businesses admirably - don't just walk away. Ultimately, and as nuts as it's turned out, you've done nothing wrong.'

   Despite Brian's change of heart and emphatic support, raw hurt was still ripping through him, as was pangs of pointless finality. He kept silent, ridiculous thoughts of this being punishment for all his father's wrong-doings continued to stir. For all his hard but fair approach in life, it still didn't wash away the fact that his father's corruption had been the foundation of his success.

   'Okay... but I need some headspace for now.' 

   'Well, then.'  Brian stood abruptly, having to tuck back in the shirt that his big belly always teased out on sitting.  'I'd better get back. I take it I can return to work knowing you won't be tanning your wrists, then?'

   'Nah. I'm not only a mug, but I'm a wimp, too.' 

   Brian slapped him briskly on the shoulder and headed for the door, then suddenly stopped and turned, his eyes narrowing as if something had just occurred to him. 'Actually, when you think of it, it's just as well you're not her father. Could you imagine walking her up the aisle knowing you had first dibs?' 

Neil just gave a full smile and shook a weary head at his comment. It was a risky comment, but it helped whiplash their 20+ year bond back to full throttle in less than an hour; he'd help Neil come to terms with shit bit by bit, help him recover recover by Hell or high water.   'I'll see myself out.' 

   'Hey?' Neil shouted after him, and he popped his head back in before closing the door. 'I'm sorry for all that crap in the office, you didn't deserve it.'

   'Already forgotten... but bite the bullet and come back to work soon. You could even try giving everyone a substantial pay-rise then they wouldn't give a fuck who you were sleeping with, not even the dog - if you had one!'

   Neil tutted. 'For a churchgoer, you don't half cleave to evil thoughts!'

   Brian grinned and quietly closed the door. 

 end of  **PUT  YOU  TOGETHER  AGAIN**

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• 
  

Down

 

                   start of  ***DOWN***

👎  Days of drinking and long drives were of no use. He'd now swapped anger for stolidity, his mind on continual reminder that he was a first class arsehole, and work didn't even fall into consideration; texting Jacqueline a succinct message to say he wouldn't be working meantime . Every follow up call or message from her he simply ignored. Saskia had also been leaving umpteen texts begging him to call her, but dealt with them by blocking her number. 

   A nightmare that had shaken him awake suggested he'd had some sleep, a few measly hours, and for the first time in his life he had to take what sleep he could. But he rose for days, to this now familiar, lifeless feeling and his own beleaguered features staring back through sleep-deprived, swollen eyes, and on waking, it was not even a millisecond until all the grim recollections flooded his heavy head again.  

   Despite his millions, there was no coping strategy money could help with; no golfing off this grief, or baking it off along any foreign shoreline either. Right now he'd rather give away his money if it could erase those happy memories overlaid with deceit. He had no chance to break this treachery down into easy to swallow portions; his torpor expended so much energy he couldn't summon enough focus to scramble a half-decent egg or butter some toast. Now all a hangover was giving him was a dull throbbing reminder that life was still busted and screwed up.

   So it took him a short while to get to grips with things, and it was only now that pieces started making sense, signs he'd missed or gave no previous thought to fitting into place: Corrine's supposed non-attendance at her father's funeral; the panic at the cancer donation he gave; the convenience of having a similar eye colour to Corrine; that sudden, last minute visit at Christmas, and the way she was reluctant to speak in depth about her mum, to name but a few. He'd been played spectacularly from the baby-album to the shaved head. Saskia had been his main focus and company for months, isolating him from his previous network of friends. And with her in exchange for them, he was too wrapped up to notice or even care.

    However, Saskia was enduring her own hell. Admitting everything to the police felt like a nail bomb detonating within her. And rather than blocking her number, she would have preferred to have Neil in person, pounding on her door, angry and wild, baying for the blood that they no longer shared. At least that way she would know what emotion was stirring and what action, if any, he was planning.

   No car screech outside was ever his one. All she wanted was to say sorry in what ever form it took, despite knowing he wouldn't accept it. Right now he was searching for sense in it all, and she was in a state of disbelief. Although she knew the ruse couldn't go on for ever, she never wanted it to end this soon. Because she'd fallen in love with him; something her mother hadn't bargained on but suspected at times, though it turned even her bitter-torn stomach. But the need of his money and destruction of his soul mattered to her more. Now all this had come to her regrettable fore, Beverly's mind was constantly regurgitating worries of the consequential fraud they attempted to commit, in virtue of her daughter choosing to live some confabulated, delusional story in her head.

              end of  ***DOWN***

• 
  

Sweetest Lie (CH34)

          start of ***SWEETEST  LIE***

 🌼 Relief flooded him when  Saskia called in the morning. Usually he'd have gone to the supermarket and back by now, but food and supplies were the last thing on his mind. In the grand, exposed scheme of this nightmare, Neil decided not to burden her with yesterday's bitter events. Why spoil what he hoped had been a poignant and binding time for mother and daughter? 

    She flooded him with apologies for her lack of contact, excusing it as simply needing to reassure her mum. Of what she wasn't too clear and he didn't ask, but after her absence he was happy enough with knowing she'd be with him that night. 

    But an hour before she was due to arrive, he was hit with a text that reads: I'm sorry. I don't expect you to  forgive me. With her phone going straight to voicemail, a feeling of encroaching horror swept over him in waves and goosebumps. Later, a buzz from concierge catapulted him from his tumultuous thoughts. This is it he told himself.

DCI. Bruce and his same sidekick were shown in and invited to sit. This time Neil went straight to no- pussyfooting strategy. No offer of coffee came and he remained standing, but felt as if he should just offer up his wrists to handcuffs instead. Hadn't he only just been prolonging the inevitable? 'You've been to see my daughter then, I take it?'

    'We've been to see Miss Reymarr, yes.'

    Neil gave a mighty sigh. Given the text he received from her, it had been harrowingly obvious. In what manner the truth came out he had no clue, he just hoped they weren't too forceful with her. 'Is she alright?' 

   Bruce dropped his look to his shoes, gave no immediate answer and this sent Neil's heart racing, and his breath to catch deeply in his chest. 'Please tell me she's not done anything stupid?'  

    'The girl's not come to any harm, she's... fine.'

    'Fine.' Neil echoed, while both men's steely eyes fixed upon him. Several hefty seconds passed with still no vocal flow from them; this hesitancy just drying his mouth even more. 'I don't get it... how could she possibly be fine?' 

    'She's physically fine, but we obviously can't account for her well-being in other respects.'

    'So she's been charged?' 

    'Well enquiries are still ongoing there for now, but we're not sure what any charge will be yet...'

    'What?' Neil, gave an insolent smirk, shaking his head, unsure what to make of being told that; he had no patience or energy left for any intended toying from them. 'But you know now that I have been sleeping with her. Colour it how you like - fucking, screwing, shagging - whatever sick term you feel you should choose, incest has been committed, hasn't it?'  There. It was said; even though it sounded as if they might be finding some lesser charge for Saskia.  But for the law to be given such a quick and clear cut confession, they were sitting remarkably quiet, Prentice's long-drawn sigh making the only sound. They seemed peculiarly reluctant to speak at all, never mind read him his rights.

   'Jesus Christ! Just say what you have to say, do what you have to do, there's fuck all we could do to make anyone understand anyhow.... '

    Oh how he'd gotten it wrong. The detectives gave each other a prime stare before Bruce rubbed his chin. 'Thing is, Mr. Balfour, there is something more pressing that you don't understand.'

    Neil sighed frustratedly. 'How much more fucking pressing could things get? C'mon then I'm dying to hear this.'

    'Okay.' Bruce dropped his hand, this time getting what he was needing to say out. 'Actually, there's been no sexual offence committed here. Saskia Reymarr? She's not your daughter.' 

    He let out a stupefied laugh, his features tied up in confusion. 'I'm sorry, I don't know what you mean by not my daughter.'

    'I'm sorry, but she's not.'  

    'No, no...  her mother let me know in May of last year after she was diagnosed with cancer... I didn't even know about her till then.' he explained, one corner of his mouth pulling up, what were they on about?  'I'm totally confused here. I don't know what the hell's going on.'  

    'None of that was true.'

    Neil tucked his hands under moist-ridden armpits, shaking his head. This was impossible; he was not  allowing such words to register. 'That's fucking crap, I'll get her on the phone right now. Her mother can be a nightmare at times, I don't know what she's playing at, but you're wrong.'

    The men allowed him to fetch his mobile and punch away at the keys; knowing there would be no answer. He dialled both numbers. Voicemail. After three attempts he gave up and stood enveloped in possibility, room devoid of speech till it all sank in.

   The absence. The distancing. The avoidance. The apology. All he had left was pain-coated denial.

   'Nah!' Neil whispered to himself. 'I'd have known.'

   'If you sit down, sir, we'll inform you of our findings.'

   He sat, staring down at stretched out fingers, checking for dirt under his fingernails.  Bruce had to check he felt well enough for them to continue. Neil nodded, clasped his hands tightly together, forcing himself to listen on. The twisted world he'd fallen into was about to get a lot more intense.

    'Look. This wasn't the outcome expected from our inquiries, far from it, but there are three main points here that are highly relative and you need to know. Firstly, the girl is not your daughter, she's the niece of Beverly Reymarr. Secondly, the said-same woman doesn't and never has had cancer. Thirdly, it was all a ploy to commit fraud - to extort money from you.'

    Bang! Bang! Bang! The three points fired, succinct and loud and clear. Neil got lost in torturous thought as the devastating news sunk in, and the men allowed him another short bout of respective silence. 

    'Money?' 

    'Do you understand all that's been said?' Bruce repeated. 

    Neil dropped his head, and gave a contemptuous sneer. 'I've been deprived of a daughter because of money... '

    This all came across as bizarre as fuck, and even a seasoned professional like Bruce was struggling to understand him. This man had just been cleared of an impending incest charge and he didn't feel relief; he still wanted her to be his kid. And Bruce could tell that young Prentice was dying to stick his oar in, but shoe-tapped him to keep quiet; his methods of revelation wouldn't be quite as respectful. 'Believe me, when we say we've dug deeply into this - she's not your daughter, and Beverly Reymarr is not her mother. This was an extraordinary attempt at extortion. We know it's come as a shock - it was to us - but the uppermost concern that needs addressing is the attempted fraud. There could be other roads like this she's went down.' 

Neil hardly blinked. 

 'Mr. Balfour?'

 The inside of his mouth had dried completely and he croaked out a 'yes', still staring rock-hard at the table, suddenly rising. 'I need a drink,' he said, 'can I get you both something?'

    'No. Yes' they answered in unison, the older of them shushing the other. 'Yes, milk and two each, thanks.'   

    With all beveridges made and delivered,  Neil glanced at the picture of the now invented father and daughter, then leaned forward in his seat, elbows on his knees, hands clasped under his chin as though to help keep his weary head up. 'Okay,' he said, trying to look composed enough to hear what horrid truth was about to permeate and crush him to bits. 'How did all this come to light?'

    Bruce lifted up his note pad in case he needed it for reference, and began. 'It seems Beverly Reymarr wrapped you up in an... allegory, almost - making you believe she had cancer, when in fact it was a friend of hers she runs her café with that does. From there she concocted the story of Saskia Reymarr and yourself more or less being the daughter and father whom knew nothing of each other until this so called 'poignant' illness. Once having you involved and falling for it, the intention was to give it enough time, solidify your relationship with the girl, and grab what money they could. The ultimate plan was to go live in luxury abroad with the biological mother of Saskia Reymarr.'

   The words flowed through his veins in a fast icy flow. 'What a couple of scheming bitches.' 

   'Yup!' Prentice piped up loudly and unexpectedly, and Bruce picked up on his serves you right tone for the offensive part he played, nonetheless.   

  'Anyway... ' Bruce continued, 'what we found remarkable was the mother tried to take sole blame - something she said she'd do if a situation like this arose. But the girl, quite loudly and adamantly dismissed her mother's ongoing attempt to do so, confessing that it was a joint attempt at fraud - she was extremely forthcoming with information. Although the idea and master-thinking was cleverly idealized by the older woman, the girl was eventually convinced to take part.'

    While Neil sat, silent and stunned, Bruce gave a curt nod to his partner, encouraging him now to speak. He was picking up the ropes to this job fast, despite undertones of his personal opinion popping out in sneaky, cynical ways.   

   'I, ah, guess you'll be able to fill in the more personal side, but we believe the catalyst or incitement to the plan was the fact that a Snr. Mr. Raymarr  - the father and grandfather - died not too long ago and there was bad blood between him and your own father.' 

    'What?' Neil gave a wry laugh. 'That was over thirty years ago, for fuck's sake!' Bruce raised his eyebrows and shrugged as if to say, well now you know. Never had a case with such a rapid twist garnered that much disbelief to his department. 

  'All this time and I suspected nothing.' Neil gave another slow shake of his head as shame and idiocy stirred. 

   'Were sorry to have broken such news to you,' Bruce said, 'but we weren't quite expecting this outcome.'

  'No.' Neil agreed, but knew they would have returned at some point, despite having convinced Saskia it was the end of any police matter. 'Guess I've got Valerie to thank in a fucked up, roundabout way for that.'

  This fomented a reaction from both men, chins jerking up to look at him.

  'I found out it was Mrs. Djerek who informed you.' 

  Neither Bruce nor Prentice gave confirmation if Neil's identification of the woman was correct, which in itself verified they now all new.

  Urged by her niece to 'do the right thing' in informing the police, Valerie would have been a believable enough source to what had been witnessed. Other elements to such a lurid find have to be considered; coercion, blackmail, and other such sources. If he was depraved enough to sleep with his daughter, what else could he have been capable of?

   DCI. Bruce's expertise largely dealt with rape, sex-trafficking, vulnerability and child abuse cases; he'd never covered a case of consensual incest before and wondered how this one would have eventually panned out. It wasn't unheard of - absent relatives meeting for the first time and requiting, over-compensating on emotion. If up to Prentice, he'd still be looking for loopholes to cuff the old bastard, despite having nothing on him now.

   'So, what happens now?' Neil asked, genuinely lost.

   'Now?' 'Bruce sighed heavily, somewhat adrift himself.  'I suggest you give it a couple of days to get over the shock, it's been quite a lot to take in. But with the girl's candidness you have good grounds for an attempted fraud charge.' 

   'Did they accept any money from you?' Prentice chimed in. Both women had denied receiving any substantial sized amounts, but he inwardly hoped he'd been stiffed good and proper.

    'No.' he answered. No point in including the few hundred here and there he threw at Saskia for some benign reason or other, nor the gifts, the car, or the £50,000 he donated to the breast cancer charity; all that was of his own choosing. 'Wouldn't matter if they had anyway.' He smiled at the sting of the irony.

   'What makes you say that?' Prentice asked.

   'Come on... do you really think I would make a case out of this? Public knowledge? You need clear and convincing evidence in court, don't you? Even the best lawyer in the land couldn't wrangle this one to my advantage. The fact that despite being duped, and we shared no blood line at all, I was still technically going to bed with my daughter. Besides, you were told about our fathers' past, weren't you? My father was a crook; if that came out it wouldn't be good for business, would it? Mud sticks. I couldn't risk it.' A sudden heavy tiredness descended over him and the detectives could almost feel the mental exhaustion fume from him. 'I think we know the score here, gents; I've brought all this on myself, you've done all you can.' All Neil wanted now was for them to go.

   Taking the hint, they stood and were escorted to the door. Opening it for them, he asked: 'What's the worst that could happen to Saskia?' No regard to the older woman.

   'They've been asked not to take off anywhere as we'd most likely be back. But the ball is in your court, so to speak, and we still strongly advise you act.' 

  'Yeah, we can't issue anything other than a caution without more from you.' Prentice added.  

    Bruce shot him a short look of reproach, he knew the fascination with this case more or less ends here. 'Just be glad that they never extorted a huge sum already; they could have left the country months ago.' So why hadn't they? Bruce had his own, personal opinion to that one, but said nothing and flicked a business card in his fingers for Neil to take. 'Take a bit of time to gather your bearings, think yourself lucky and don't do anything hasty. Get in touch if need be.' 

Before driving from the complex, the men lit cigarettes and reflected on the way this case had totally rejigged from sexual to fraudulent. Not that Bruce was sure how proceedings in an incest case would fare out; it depended on which judge presided. 

   But he doubted it would have led to anything drastic such as serving time. The moral view and story would most likely have halted any such outcome, with therapy and orders to keep apart put in place.  Oh, how such a case would have made huge media storm. They knew that power behind money couldn't hush every scandal and all this one would do was highlight facts best kept quiet. And for that matter, Prentice, who longed for his first major court case, felt shattered.

   'You know the most warped thing in all this?'

   'Go on.' 

   'Even under threat of an incest charge, he was devastated that they weren't related more than the fact that he'd not been fucking his daughter after all. Someone's squealed and a deficient bloodline is aggrieving him more? Maybe that's the fact he can't cope with - she's lost her appeal.'

   'What? Like he got more of a kick sleeping with her because of who she was?'

   'Well, yeah. Anyone would be relieved to be off the hook over something so serious. He showed no sign of assuagement once the truth was established, whereas—'

  'Whereas at the start he was ready for the full confession.' Bruce finished for him, admiring his deductive reasoning. 'Regardless, he's got to live with the fact that she's not his offspring, that in itself will be a struggle, plus he also has to live with the indignity of being a high-flyer who was taken for a mug for so long.' 

   'Some might say he deserved it, because of his business stature.'

   'When you've been in this game as long as I have, you quickly learn that respectability hides many a dark secret. It's the wealthy and the entitled that shock you the worst.'

   'Probably because money makes them think they're invincible... D'you think he'll pursue a fraud charge? It's a bastard how this one's turned out.'

  Bruce smiled at Prentice's disappointment in not pinning one on the dirty old geezer and drove off shaking his head. The newbie was sounding more like a chief superintendent than a low grader in the S.O.D.  His cogitation of this case needed wider assessment, but it was a sign he was getting the hang of things.  Give it a few more weeks and he'll be sickened by the commonality of abuse like rape and child molestation. In contrast, what Neil Balfour and Saskia Reymarr were initially being grilled over read more like a case of morals gone awry at worst. Photos of sexual assault victims were far more disturbing than the father and daughter in a photograph that stands in a frame. Lovers or not. 

   'Yes... it's a bastard,' Bruce agreed, simply to pacify him, 'and the paperwork will be an even bigger bastard! But I wouldn't hold your breath over Balfour making any further moves.'  

   For what it was worth, (though he was hardly going to promulgate it) Bruce felt a fraction of sympathy for Balfour.  It was bad enough that the girl both screwed him while screwing him over, but he'd now been made both victim and fool, and that would soon hit and hurt him harder than any flesh or blood related tyranny had that been the actual case. Murder someone and you get all the rehabilitation time you need for outlet back in society. Fall in love and have consensual sex with a blood relative - physically harming no-one - and you're the scourge of society. But laws are upheld for a reason, and courts should hold no relaxation for such cases. Even if the supporting story is unprecedented in nature and well-disposed towards, it still carries pain and controversy for others - usually family members.  

                                                    

Barefoot and leaning over his balcony railing, he realized the vibrant and manic change Saskia had introduced into his life had vanished. The distant clamor of London swelled in his ears, louder than before, making him feel a part of that unspoken frenzy.  

    Unsure how long he had been outside, his feet started to tingle and colour with the cold. Shock had brought his body to stillness as he stood there, a nugatory father, numb and insignificant.

   He could kill Beverly right now. Bare hands. For bringing the damned girl into his life under such cunning exploitation. Saskia had played the game, played the man, played all the right moves in the finest of character. So where had that intrinsic feeling, that wholesome belonging come from? Even now, if he had her DNA tested he would half expect a positive result. 

   Turning his back on the city, he slunk indoors. His feet called out for warmth, and as he stepped back onto plush carpet, he still had no clue about what his next move - if any - would be. But before he made any judgement call, he called for some help for himself from his old friend Jack. Swiftly he lifted the bottle from the drinks display and walked with him to the kitchen. He picked out a highball glass, one with dainty daisies on that had not long moved in, and filled it half-way.  He looked into the liquid and  watched a ripple ebb across the top from his shaky hand, giving no concern for his bare feet as the glass smashed into shards and smithereens against the edge of the sink.

         

                    end of  ***SWEETEST  LIE***

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