I was still curious, though concerning the hints about ‘Even more forn parts’, until Bevan called into our team office, which was, to say the least, unusual. He had a stranger in tow, who didn’t smell like plod, so we gathered round, drinks in hand along with a few sandwiches, and awaited introductions and, we were guessing, a briefing. Bevan waited till we were all settled, and smiled around the room.

“Ah. Do tell”

“Prospective Deform councillor?”

“That’s him”

“Well, I traced his Bookface and Twix accounts, and then I redacted the identifying stuff, and took the results to our local experts for assessment. Um, Debbie and Marlene”

“What did they say?”

He didn’t actually turn pale, but his face clearly wanted to.

This is the final work in Mike and Neil's story. I haven't yet worked out how many parts it will split into, but it's all written. Diane Sutton, formerly Owens, takes over the narration as the SCRU goes after Nigel.

Please be aware the direct reference is made to suicide here, along with particularly nasty harassment.

CLOSING DOORS
CHAPTER 1
Candice was out with Jon taking a statement in yet another fraud case that had spun off from the Evans building fiddles heap, the gift that simply refused to stop giving, but the rest of us were in. Sammy was in feral mode, which triggered my interest, as it always did. He waved Lexie forward.

“You have the floor. DC Doyle. Go for it”

Neil was late in arrival, and we had already given up on him and headed for the pub. No music, but an awful lot of people to smile at and be lifted by a smile’s return, often with extra warmth. Debbie and her girls were still with us, and Alys and I had a quiet moment of pleasure spotting which ones we recognised, and which were still coming to terms with their new lives. I could almost read their minds: is this real? I get to be myself, in public? There’s no catch, no taking it all away again?

My darling wife was cooking that evening, which was sometimes a bit of a lottery. While I love her to distraction, her culinary skills are a moveable feast. By that, I mean that there are times when she gets overambitious, and we have to move said feast from our dining room to a local pub or takeaway. One thing she does do well, though, because she was taught by experts, is a decent barbecue. There are local issues on that score, however, geographical ones related to typical precipitation patterns and being resident in North Wales.

CHAPTER 86
Life went on, though, as it almost always did. Ish went to school, where he switched his sports to rugby and swimming, Maz and I started the ‘matrix’ training, and the ‘protection’ stayed in the bedside cabinet’s drawer.

The letters became more frequent, eventually becoming bulkier as her mother started sending her own photos down, all of older members of her family, according to Maz.

CHAPTER 85
Agreement to our proposals was surprisingly quick, given the allegations about ‘Wily Orientals’ I had grown up with, and within two weeks we were already at the stage of drafting a training roster, splitting Maz and I so that we could work twice as fast while still leaving time for our childcare responsibilities.

The first lot were the ‘matrix’ people, including Audrey, who turned up in one of my classes. They were all frighteningly intense in their approach to the work, and I began to suspect that the local working culture might be just a little competitive, maybe with a touch of canine cannibalism.

CHAPTER 83
The settling-in period went far too quickly, as did our boy’s enrolment in the International School. That second part was actually eased by my wife’s presentation of some old photos of the place, because it had actually been her former father-in-law’s school in the ‘East of Suez’ days.

I had to force myself away from worry, because the school were offering a minibus service for pupils, recognising how those needing an ‘international’ school were rather likely to be ‘international’ in their own right, and possibly rather busy. So we made his packed lunch each evening, left it with a cold drink in the fridge for him, and one of us walked him down to that familiar bus stop, as Maz and I worked swap shifts until we were sure he could handle coming home to an empty house.

He was a Big Boy, but always our baby.

CHAPTER 81
We landed in the afternoon, just after a rain squall had blown through; the place was a lot wetter than WA, that was clear. Maz had the window, and as we descended towards Changi, she was almost dancing in her seat, pointing out places that I couldn’t actually see, as Ish was already leaning over her for his view. I would just have to see it all from ground level.

“This was the military airfield originally, Mike. Alan’s Dad used to go to the beach here. There was a place called the South China Sea Club, but it was just palm thatched huts, a bar, a juke box and a local man cooking chips in a wok over a gas ring. On the floor. Such changes!”

I took the skewers out as instructed. Leaving them to be slathered with gloop and slapped onto the grill, and then stood for a few seconds to put my thoughts in order. There was something about him, something off, that didn’t match the Norman Rossiter I remembered from that school. The lad I had known had been one of the rugby crowd, exactly the people I had spent so much energy in avoiding., and their behaviour could never have been fairly described as ‘accommodating’ or ‘inclusive’, unless it was a matter of intersectional hatred. The Venn diagram of their world had been a classic double circle: ‘Us’ and ‘every lesser being’. That second circle could just as easily be labelled ‘targets’.

I watched the expressions dance over her face, realising how much the ‘O’ and ‘W’ words meant to her, poor girl.

“I’m in Salfords, as Jules probably told you, so train will work well if you’re in Horley. There’s a bus stop as well. Where are you based?”

“Top end of Lumley Road”

“Ah. Several buses go past there”

He reeled off some suggestions, all of which I was aware of, although my own choice was usually the number twenty. I was a little puzzled by his knowledge, as he was a driver, like most estate bloody agents, but I assumed it was all part of the toolkit for potential sales.

“Where to, then?”

“YOU A GEEZER, OR WHAT?”

Volume control wasn’t his strong suit, evidently. Thankfully, the bus was already there, so I stepped on as if he hadn’t spoken, eructated, puked, whatever. Good start to the day.

Usual start to the day.

CHAPTER 79
Life was good. We celebrated Ish’s seventh birthday by withdrawing some of our accumulated bonus money and flying out to Esperance for some seriously wet fun, including a stop on Woody Island for penguin watching. Trying to explain the why and wherefore of polar bear and iceberg absence reminded me yet again of our son’s real age, despite his literary tastes, but there were places to swim, burgers to eat and granite outcrops to play on.

Neither Maz nor I had any truck with the sexist convention that women were meant to be mothers, but we were parents, and it was wonderful, most of the time.

CHAPTER 77
Year by year, both our business and our son grew, and Geeta got her wish to see Sydney when we opened another branch there. Kul running it as a manager until we had integrated some more employees. One of them turned out to be Betty, who took over from Kul after a very few months, allowing the Butts to return. Ish was now five years old and in proper preschool, which he would regularly complain about.

“The reading’s boring, Dad!”

CHAPTER 75
I couldn’t remember ever being as tired as I was those first few months, but it was Maz who bore the heavier load at first, as she was the food source. Both of us felt rather stupid when the health visitor talked us through the secret of rewarmed previously expressed milk, and I am sure Maz felt relieved rather than embarrassed. Kul asked us if we hadn’t actually sprogged in England, leaving the kid with persistent jet lag, as his circadian rhythm seemed utterly disconnected from Western Australia. Dal picked up on that, naturally, and suggested that Ish was an alien changeling from another planet.

CHAPTER 73
Eventually, Neil found some equilibrium, and Maz and I managed to shuffle hm into the spare room he was using, before finally settling into our own bed. Maz was unsurprisingly rather pensive as she cuddled into me.

“So many triggers in him, love. How the hell has he survived?”

CHAPTER 72
The cruise was a delight, right from the start. We hadn’t moved more than a short distance from the jetty when Maz was pointing at one of the smooth granite outcrops near the port.

“Cape Barren geese, Mike! Bloody good start to the day”

PART 4
I found myself laughing, almost automatically. I dealt with so many dogs I had a routine check-list for their owners, a method of deciding whether the owner was Dog People or rather someone who liked accessories. Small dogs in handbags, oh please.

My boss did much the same thing, not only refusing jobs where one or more of us had raised enough concerns, but passing them up the line for official action. As she also ran a kennels and cattery near Shipley Bridge, we saw a LOT of dogs and their owners.

I sobered up quickly, giving him a smile, but refraining from patting his hand. Most definitely not a good idea.

“Sorry again; not laughing at you. It’s just ridiculous, given how you look after her. Who has this come from?”

“You got time for this?”

“Not working for anyone but myself today. What do you have?”

“Well, I’ll put the kettle on first, then. Tea or coffee?”

“Tea, please, in this weather”

He smiled.

“You can lie down again if you want, but I will be in a chair”

Part 2
I gave him enough time to get back down the path to the public car park, then gathered my two for their ride home. Ryan was wanting a chase again, so he stayed on the lead while Tara did her own in and out of the trees roaming, which I had worked out meant she typically walked and ran about a dozen times the distance I did. It was heading towards school run time, so I stopped by the little tea place, where they had a warm pasty and, to my delight, a piece of lemon drizzle cake.

CHAPTER 71
I nodded, with a meaningful glance toward the other passengers.

“Chat later, love. Messy stuff”

“Late, then. One question now, though: is he all right?”

“I think so, especially with Alys to look after. Later, though, be best”

CHAPTER 69
The wedding carried on in as traditional a way as can be imagined, despite it taking place in a glorified tent on a golf course. We had the speeches, and the toasts, and Des and his minions delivered a meal of surprising originality and variety. He had set up a line of barbecues for those who needed the full Aussie, but had stationed a couple of his kitchen staff in strategic positions to ensure food was cooked, and I noticed we had no chicken or pork. Sensible man.

NEIL
I pointed at Maddy, who smiled as she accepted her dish.

The waitress indicated a dessert menu, I thanked her, and she was off to another table.

“No cuddle, then, that time?”

She knocked back most of her second glass---where had the first one gone?---then looked up at me once more.

NEIL
I could feel my face burning as she asked me, but she was sitting in such a relaxed way I could do nothing else but try my best. I had tried not to stare at her breasts, but I knew they were there, and my body was telling me exactly how well it knew the same thing, and I had no idea what I should do about that. Her question, though, wasn’t ‘what did I want?’ but rather ‘what might we want?’, which was a very different thing altogether. She was being so incredibly open about it; all I could do was try and match that, even though I could never do so.

Breathe, Neil.