CHAPTER TWENTY
My eyes flew open. At first, I felt so disoriented I had no idea
where I was. Then Ryan’s handsome face
loomed up at me through a mist. I tried to reach out and give him a hug but my
body felt top-heavy and I could barely move a muscle. The full lips were
smiling, eyes unnaturally bright.
Then I remembered.
Something shiny glinted in the leafy gloom. I saw the
knife in Ryan’s hand. I tried to shout, plead…whatever. But my dry mouth obstinately refused to make
a sound. I glanced past Ryan’s shoulder. It seemed that the only part of the
moon visible was a ghastly grimace.
The blade moved in slow-motion towards my throat.
Gripped by terror, I tried to crawl away but my sluggish
limbs were totally unfit for purpose.
I heard a sound in the undergrowth of something
approaching with speed. Could it be the
bear, I wondered? Is this nothing but
a dreadful nightmare? If so, I prayed silently, dear God let me wake up! Suddenly, a
flash of terrifying awareness revealed to me why I could not open my eyes. They
were already wide open. This was no nightmare. This was happening for real. I
was closeted among nature’s finest with a madman bent on slitting my throat.
The bear-like sounds grew louder. I thought I heard
shouts, but could not be sure. The knife hovered in mid-air then swung away to
the right and began lashing out. In the
haze, I could distinguish a human shape. It was tussling with Ryan. Another
shape ran forward but this one came and knelt beside me.
“Are you alright? Can you hear me?” I nodded and slowly
but surely began to make out features that struck me as familiar, only vaguely
at first, and then with growing confidence.
It was Shifty.
Slightly improved vision restored, I followed his line
of vision to where Ryan and the other man were wrestling on the ground. My
heart missed a beat.
It had to be Philip.
Sure enough, I recognized the broad shoulders and hair
so badly in need of cutting that it was curling up at the ends.
A loud shriek went up.
Silence floated down like a dark sheet and wrapped me in
its satin folds as if preparing me for burial.
…………………………………….
I woke to find myself tucked up in bed at the widow’s
house.
As if on cue, the widow herself opened the door carrying
a glass of hot milk on a tray. “Good, you’re awake. I’ve brought you some milk
and honey. It will make you feel a whole lot better.
“Shouldn’t I be in hospital?” I felt slightly aggrieved
although immensely relieved to discover that I wasn’t.
“The doctor said there’s no need. Before you know it,
you’ll be as right as rain. Now, let me plump up your pillows…”
“Don’t fuss, woman,” I muttered.
“Don’t you talk to me like that, Laurence Fisher. You
may be poorly, but this is my house. You’ll watch your tongue or suffer the
consequences.”
I knew it was no idle threat and mumbled an apology of
sorts that seemed to satisfy her. She sat down on the bed and waited, intuitive
as she was, for the questions to come tumbling out of my mouth, one on top of
the other as they did, in an avalanche of confusion comprising anger, grief,
and a hotchpotch of emotions to which I couldn’t begin to put a name.
“Philip…?”
”…is fine. I dare say he’ll be in to see you later so
will Marc and Jackie. They send their love, too, of course. Oh, and Marc
thought it best not to worry your poor mother with all this. Later perhaps…”
“Perhaps,” I agreed.
“Danny has called so often I dread the phone ringing,”
she added with the same warm smile that had seen me through thick and thin more
times that I cared to recall. It seemed incredible now that we had once lived
next door to each other for years and barely exchanged a word.
“And Shifty…?”
“Shifty?” She frowned, and then laughed. “Oh, you mean
Sergeant Harris. Yes, he’s fine too. Everyone is fine, and very soon you’ll be
feeling the same.”
An awkward silence seemed to last an eternity. Again,
the widow answered the one question to which I was desperate for an answer yet
dared not ask. “Ryan was badly hurt in the struggle. He died, I’m afraid. I really am so sorry, Laurence. I know how
fond you had become of him although…”
“He was mad,” I declared flatly, feeling marginally
better for having done so.
“It would appear that’s true,” the widow agreed, “but
that doesn’t make it any the less painful, does it? You weren’t to know he was
a…”
“Psychopath, the word is psychopath,” a new voice came
from the doorway.
“I’ll leave the two of you to chat,” said the widow and
left the room, nodding briefly to Philip as he came and took her place on the
bed.
“You’re looking a lot better,” he said quietly.
“I’m okay,” I lied. I was not okay at all. Physically,
yes, I was fine. Emotionally, I was a wreck.
“I’m sorry about Ryan. I know how fond you were of him.
It’s not your fault things turned out the way they did. You weren’t to know. People like that are
experts at hiding their true character. They’re not only good liars, but also
know how to cover their tracks. You weren’t to know…” he repeated.
“No, but you did,” I flung at him angrily. “You knew.
Yet, you said nothing, not a word. You let me go on thinking it was Miles
Packard you were after. How could you do that to someone you…?”
“Love…? You got that right anyway. I do love you,
Laurence, in spite of everything that’s happened. The question is do you still
love me?”
“The question is why didn’t you warn me?” I was shaking
with anger and hurt.
“For one thing, you wouldn’t have believed me. For
another, I had no concrete evidence, nothing that would stand up in a court of
law. Yes, I suspected Banks but I needed proof.
The best way to keep an eye on him was to get in with the Packards. It
wasn’t too difficult. We had a man there already on the people trafficking case
to back up my cover story.”
“Sergeant Harris.”
Philip nodded. “A damn good job he did too. You have a lot to thank him for. So do Marc
and Jackie, Danny, too. It didn’t make his job any easier having to keep a
weather eye out for you lot on top of everything else.”
“I’m sorry we were such a nuisance,” I muttered...
“Don’t be petty, Laurence, you know what I mean. Like I
say, you owe Tom Harris a lot. I did my best, of course I did. But I couldn’t
have done it without his help. He’s a bloody good copper. It’s no exaggeration
to say he‘s the one you have to thank for staying alive. If he hadn’t kept an
eye on Banks while I drove Danny and Teresa back to Manchester, I wouldn’t have
had the faintest idea just how much immediate danger you were really in. I had
intended to drive straight back, but I was exhausted and stayed over longer
than I intended,” he added apologetically. “Thank God you’re all safe,” he
murmured with tears in his eyes that may have moved me at any other time, but
not now.
“Tell that to Agnes Musoke,” I retorted, “and Ginny
Sharp.”
Tom was gutted when Ginny was murdered, so was I. She
was a big help to us even if her heart wasn’t always in the right place. But
Ralph Packard is a clever bastard…”
I had already stopped listening as I fought a losing
battle with my conscience. How could I let Jackie find out the truth? Besides,
what did it matter if Packard paid for one crime he didn’t commit among all
those he had? I could live with the secret. Can
I, though, live with Philip at the same time? Did I even want to try?
Ryan’s handsome face loomed in my mind’s eye and I felt
his lips on mine, soft and warm, his tongue prising them open gently and his
sex throbbing hard between my naked thighs…
A psychopath he may have been, but the Ryan Banks I
thought I’d come to know and love was someone with whom I had felt more alive
than with anyone I had ever known. Oh,
and more so even than with Philip?
An incredulous alter-ego flung the question at me that had been haunting
my consciousness for weeks. Conscience smarting, I could only answer a
resounding, yes. For the first time
in ages, my thoughts turned to Harry, my first love. Not that it helped to hear him snort in my
ear, Oh, Laurie, Laurie. For a reasonably
intelligent man, you can be such an idiot sometimes…
No one should compare lovers, everyone knows that. The
art of lovemaking is not written on tablets of stone. At the same time, I
couldn’t help but ask myself whether I could ever settle for less again, even
with Philip. There could be no disputing we were good together, after all. It had been enough once so why not again?
This time, though, my alter-ego kept a diplomatic silence.
“Her family have requested that Agnes Musoke’s body be
flown back to Uganda by the way,” Philip was saying. “Oh, and Ginny’s funeral
is next Tuesday. I think Jackie would
like you to be there, but only if you’re feeling up to it. Naturally, she and
Marc are going and Jackie’s sister Stephanie. The parents will be there of
course. Jackie’s other sister Heather is making all the arrangements. I must
say I rather like Heather even if she does come across as a bit of a bossy cow
sometimes…”
My stomach began churning again.
It was a moment before I realized Philip had stopped
talking. We eyed each other warily. “Where does all this leave us, Laurie, you
and me?”
It was the question I had been dreading. I had
considered various responses and rehearsed them all in my head over and over.
Now, though, I couldn’t recall a single one as head and heart attempted a
delicate high wire juggling act with balls plainly marked denial, despair and
wishful thinking.
“Do you want to try again?” Philip pressed me for an
answer.
“I don’t know,” I finally admitted. “I suppose so.”
You suppose so?” Philip flared. “What kind of an answer
is that? Either you do or you don’t?”
The wire began to sag as I struggled to keep my balance
and keep my juggling act alive. It was all I had, after all, or so it seemed to
me as I looked away from Philip’s heart rending expression and studied the
duvet’s pattern of white lilies against a blue background. “It won’t be easy,”
I mumbled.
“Do you think I don’t know that?” But I’m willing to try
if you are. I want to try, Laurence, do you?”
I managed to nod without dropping any balls.
My mobile phone rang where someone had thoughtfully left
it next to my pillow. Relieved, to have
an excuse for not meeting Philip’s searching gaze, I picked it up. It was my
sister Mary to say that Thomas was out of hospital and back home. She hoped
Philip and I would visit soon. “Love to you both,” she said cheerfully. “Bye
for now.”
A strained silence descended.
Philip and I
regarded each other with mixed emotions. He leaned forward and gave me a
cursory kiss on the cheek before leaving without another word passing between
us. Once the bedroom door had closed behind him, I lay back and closed my eyes,
half expecting to see a friendly bear loping towards me.
But of the bear there was no sign.
The End
Author’s Note:
Many thanks to all of you supporting this blog and
for your many e-mails. The trilogy, as narrated by Laurence Fisher, will draw
to a close in Redemption which I have
delayed finishing due to illness.
Hopefully, it will be completed by the end of next year and serialised on the
blog prior to publication.
I plan to try out a fantasy novel – Mamelon - in the
New Year and will post a synopsis shortly.
Meanwhile…
If you have enjoyed the stories on the blog so far,
please feel free to share the link/s to synopses and subsequent chapters with a
friend. (NB Each serial will be deleted as and when I get time to upload to
amazon as e-books.)
SYNOPSES for novels on this site:
DOG ROSES
(Gay-interest)
BLASPHEMY
(Crime – Gay-interest)
SACRILEGE
(Crime – Gay-interest)
LIKE THERE'S NO TOMORROW
(Crime/Mystery)
PREDISPOSED TO MYRDER
(Crime)
MAMELON (Book 1)
(Fantasy) - Book
2 will be serialized from October 2013
+
[For a glossary of names and terms used in Mamelon:
See also:
