 |
by Tanya Allan
|
Chris Reynolds, always wanting to please his family as he was growing up, knew that something about himself was amiss: His body was just plain wrong! This sense of wrongness pervaded him and eventually sank him into a deep depression.
One fateful day, deciding to end it all, Chris wound up being caught in a freakish accident in which he was killed - only he didn't die!
Finding himself alive was the first thing he was surprised at. Finding his lifelong prayers answered, through some sort of swapping of bodies during death with another person - a girl equally as depressed as himself, and in a similar situation as he - except she had always desired to physically be a man, was simply amazing!
Chris, now Christina, pursues living life to it's fullest, but once again realizes something missing from her life. Will she find her answer?
Tanya has a new website where she will display her latest works first and then to BigCloset TopShelf a few weeks later is here at Tanya Allan's Tales .
Tanya's Book Shop where she is selling her works in book form is at http://tanyaallan.authorshaunt.com/shop.php . Please Visit!
The Legal Stuff: Second Chance © 2009, 2010 Tanya Allan
This work is the property of the author, and the author retains full copyright, in relation to printed material, whether on paper or electronically. Any adaptation of the whole or part of the material for broadcast by radio, TV, or for stage plays or film, is the right of the author unless negotiated through legal contract. Permission is granted for it to be copied and read by individuals, and for no other purpose. Any commercial use by anyone other than the author is strictly prohibited, and may only be posted to free sites with the express permission of the author.
This work is fictitious, and any similarities to any persons, alive or dead, are purely coincidental. Mention is made of persons in public life only for the purposes of realism, and for that reason alone. Certain licence is taken in respect of medical procedures, terms and conditions, and the author does not claim to be the fount of all knowledge.
The author accepts the right of the individual to hold his/her (or whatever) own political, religious and social views, and there is no intention to deliberately offend anyone. If you wish to take offence, that is your problem.
This is only a story, and it contains adult material, which includes sex and intimate descriptive details pertaining to genitalia. If this is likely to offend, then don’t read it.
Please enjoy.
Chapter 7
The following week, after Ingrid and Alex dashed in and out again en route to Cambridge, I dragged myself back to London, and to the flat that I had not seen since the accident.
The announcement for our engagement appeared in both the main papers, and I cut out a copy for my scrap book:
|
Alistair had called me, as promised, just before flying out. He called again once he arrived, and once since.
“Hello you.” He always would greet me.
“Hello yourself,” I replied.
Our conversations went on for ages, and although we waffled about nothing, my heart soared as soon as I heard his voice.
On the last call, he told me his unit was involved in peacekeeping operations as armoured support. He have me details of the communications centre, through which messages for soldiers could be sent. I was on the official list of relatives and next of kin for him, so I felt very pleased.
It was a strange feeling returning to my flat, and a stark reminder to me of everything that had happened to me over the last few weeks.
As soon as I opened the door, I smiled. The place was not what I had expected at all. Gone was the drab masculine décor, with the sound system and large TV. It was light and airy, with pleasant colours and pretty soft furnishings. The bedroom still had my large double bed, but all the covers, sheets and pillows were different. It was a young woman’s flat.
It was my flat.
I checked the wardrobe, and found some really pretty clothes. The place was tidy, but totally bereft of food. I went to the supermarket on the corner, and did a little shopping. Then after I had put everything away, I decided to walk to the office.
Mr Robbins actually kissed me, and I waved at Karen who was on the phone to a client.
“It is lovely to see you. How are you?” Mr Robbins asked.
“I’m fine. The cast will be coming off in a week, and so I should be able to come back tomorrow. The arm is fine, but I just can’t do any heavy work.”
“Fine. Well, the work is piling up, so we have missed you,” he said.
I saw Steve walk over to the photocopier, and Karen pointed to me, he turned and saw me. He grinned and waved.
“I’ll be in tomorrow, if that’s alright,” I said to my boss.
“Good, that’ll be fine. See you then.”
I left him and went to see Steve.
He looked really well, far more relaxed than the first time. I got no wibbly wobbles, but just felt pleased to see him. He kissed my cheek, and it felt very brotherly.
“Hi Chris. Good to see you. How are things going?” he asked.
“Arm’s nearly there, parents are well, lost my virginity last week, and am engaged to a multi-millionaire peer. Apart from that I’m miserable. How about you?” I said with a grin.
He looked at me, he saw the ring, and held my hand.
“This sounds like a pub lunch job,” he said, smiling.
“When are you free?” I asked.
He looked at his watch.
“Five minutes?”
“Okay.”
We went over to his desk where I helped him sort his project. He had a presentation to prepare for Friday for a client. Our department put together the computer graphics for various client departments within the industry. Although we were not expected to give presentations, we had to be as conversant with the contents as if we were.
Karen popped her head round the door.
“Hi Chris. When are you coming back?”
“Tomorrow, but I don’t think I’ll be staying long,” I said.
“Why, arm bad?”
“No, you don’t understand. I will be handing in my notice soon.”
“No? Why?”
I held up my left hand and let the light catch the large diamonds in the ring.
“Oh my God. No?” she squealed. “When?”
“Last week, in Scotland.”
“Please tell me it isn’t the copper?” she said.
“It isn’t the copper, although, to be fair, he asked first,” I said, and Steve chuckled.
“Oh, go on who is he?”
I took out the photograph that Alistair had given to me.
“Oh my word. He’s a god!” she said.
Steve took the photograph, and smiled.
“Yeah. He’ll do,” he said, and winked.
The three of us went to the pub over the road, a road that I crossed very carefully.
I told them all about my trip, the parties, and of Mark. Karen had to cut her lunch short, as she had a client calling, so she left Steve and me alone.
“So, how’s Debbie?”
“She’s fine. It is working out really well. I took her home last weekend to meet the folks, and I am going to meet hers next week.”
“Oh, Steve, this is a bit domesticated,” I teased.
“Well, you beat me to it. Tell the truth, how are you?”
“I’m in heaven, Steve. There is no other word for it. We met when Mark was still around, so I was sort of torn. Mark was nice, no, he is nice, but in a different way. Alistair was so suave, so in control, he’s in a totally different league.
“He treated me as a girl dreams she wants to be treated, as she would have been in the 1920s. He kissed my hand, for crying out loud. Anyway, he courted me, there is no other word for it, he simply courted me. He declared his intent, and proceeded to woo me.”
“It worked then?”
I smiled, coyly.
“Oh Chris, you didn’t?
“He proposed tons of times, and I kept putting him off, without actually saying no. I was so attracted to him, but I just needed time to gather my thoughts. I was so swept away, that I no longer knew my own mind. After a week or so, I realised that I was only truly happy when he was with me, and I was so miserable when he was not, the next time he asked, I accepted.”
“You avoided the question,” Steve reminded me.
“On the Monday night, he stayed with us, before shipping out with his regiment. I went to bed with him, because I really wanted to, and because I was going to marry him. I vowed that the only man to make love to me was my husband, and I intend to honour it.”
Steve took a drink from his glass.
“And?”
“It was out of this world. How you could possibly prefer being a man, I do not understand.”
“It’s all to do with the mind set. I get my pleasure from giving it,” he said.
“So do I, but so does he, and we meet in the middle. Oh Steve, I want him back so much.”
He smiled. “When he comes back, think what a welcome you will give him.”
I smiled, and my imagination threatened to overwhelm me.
“So, are you and Debbie going to get married?”
“Maybe. Hell, Chris, I don’t know. I haven’t come to terms with this as quickly as you. There is so much I need to get right in my head first.”
We chatted for ages, and I was able to help him sort out a few things in his head. He was much more content now, and wouldn’t swap back if given the chance. Although never burdened with the powerful feeling that I had, he was grateful to be allowed to exchange an existence into a meaningful life.
“I could never get away from the fact that as much as I was told that society should accept me for what I was, my parents were never able to. I am now acceptable in their eyes, and instead of being ashamed of me, they are proud of me. They always loved me, but now I am someone in whom they can show their love. It hurts me, but they are more concerned with what other people think, rather than the reality of me. I am still the same person, by a weird quirk of fate, or fortune, I have suddenly put right everything that they thought was wrong with me. I think the same way, I eat the same food, and I even lust after the same women. But because I’m male, it’s all different, it’s all right now. It hurts me, Chris.”
I took his hand.
“I know you’re the same person. I loved you before, and I love you now, for the same reasons. That’s why we could never be lovers. What we have is too precious to ruin by becoming lovers,” I said.
He smiled.
“I haven’t been able to express myself to anyone whilst you were away. So don’t think I’m unhappy, I’m not. I just needed to say those things. Actually, I am very happy, despite what I have just said, particularly as I don’t get the curse any more.”
I smiled. “In a way I am sad you aren’t a girl. I’d like you to be a bridesmaid,” I said.
“I could come in drag.”
“No, I don’t think so,” I said, and we laughed.
“I have to get back to work. You’re back tomorrow, so we can have lunch again then.”
He left and I returned to my flat.
I checked my Emails, to find that Alistair had managed to send me a message. It was romantic drivel, but it made me cry, and I wrote two pages of mush back to him.
I went back to work the next day, and actually enjoyed it. All my misery as Christian, over-spilled into my attitudes at work. The people were great, and I managed to get back into the swing of things quickly.
I returned to the fracture clinic, where I had more x-rays done of my arm. It was healing nicely, so the cast was removed. I had to attend physiotherapy once a week for a few weeks, and the first thing I did was join a gym. The company had a corporate membership scheme, and I had a complete physical assessment done by Mandy, one of the trainers, and she worked out a good training regime for me to get fit.
I started getting up at five each morning, going for a run, and then a shower and off to work. Then, in the lunch break, Steve and I would swim, or go to the fitness room for half an hour and then a light lunch. In the evenings, I really went for a hard work out, and soon my arm was back to normal. I concentrated on building stamina, and then toning up my whole body. I wasn’t a slob, but I found that I was very unfit.
I spoke to Alistair at least once a week, and we emailed each other constantly. After a couple of months, one morning in late November, I got the email I was dreading.
|
I went to work and told Mr Robbins what had happened. He was great about it, so while I was at it, I gave in my notice.
“It’s not fair of me to keep taking time off. I need to rethink my life in any case, and as long as I know I can come back in the future, then I will feel happier this way,” I told him.
I think it was a relief to him, as unbeknown to the rest of us, he was under pressure to downsize the department, and just before Christmas too. By going voluntarily, I took the pressure from him having to make anyone redundant. Now he might be able to get by not having to.
I cleared my desk and left a note on Steve’s desk, as he was out with a client. I left the office without a backward glance, I had moved on.
I returned to my flat that evening, feeling a weight was taken off my shoulders. I spent a really hard hour in the gym, and relaxed in the sauna. While I was in there a guy I had seen about came in, and sat very close to me. I had become aware that he used to sort of lurk close to me when I was using the fitness machines, and would occasionally try to engage me in conversation. I wasn’t good at chatting when I was working out, so I had tended to ignore him.
“Hi. I’ve seen you work out. You’re pretty fit,” he said.
He was about twenty-eight or so, with a receding hair line, and was a little on the flabby side, but was awfully well spoken. The ‘old-Etonian’ alarm bells rang.
“Thanks, it keeps me out of trouble,” I said, making my voice as aristocratic as I could, and slid away a few inches up the bench.
“I’m Guy, Guy Hamilton. I’m a broker,” he said, as if it was some secret password.
“I’m Christina Reynolds. I was in advertising.”
“Was eh, got the old heave ho, eh what?” he said with a revolting snort of a laugh.
“No actually. My fiancé’s father has just died, so as he is now the Earl, I gave my notice,” I said, as casually as I could.
He stared at me, as if to gauge whether I was teasing him.
“The Earl?” he repeated.
“My fiancé is Alistair McLeish, Earl of Dundas. He is a Captain in the RSDGs. I must go, as he is phoning from Bosnia in about half an hour,” I said, and left him gaping after me.
It was ten to eight when I arrived back at the flat and made sure my mobile was charged up. I felt lazy, so I stuck a frozen pizza into the oven, and sat in front of the telly, with my mobile handy.
By nine, I had eaten and was becoming anxious. He still hadn’t called. By ten I was positively homicidal. Finally, at ten past ten my phone rang, and it was him.
“Hello you. Sorry I’m a bit late, we got caught up.”
“It’s okay, as long as you don’t mind a girl with no nails,” I said, and he laughed.
“It’s lovely to hear your voice. Are you okay for tomorrow?”
“Of course. I’ve explained my change in circumstances to my boss, and told him that I need some space, so they’ve let me go. He told me that if ever I want my job back, just to call.”
“There was no need for anything that drastic,” he said.
“I know, but I just needed the excuse. It’s not for me any more. How are you?”
“Fine at the moment. I haven’t had much time to think about it.”
“Well, don’t start thinking yet, wait until you pick me up, then I’ll be there for you,” I said, and he laughed shortly.
“Where will you be?”
“Wherever you want me.”
“Can you get to your parent’s place? I can find that, and then we can head north after lunch.”
“Of course. Oh, Alistair, I am so sorry!”
“Don’t be, it was due, it comes to all of us eventually. We all knew he wouldn’t be long, didn’t we?”
“Anyway, congratulations on your promotion. I am excited for you.”
“Thanks, it will make the last year a good one.”
“Only a year?”
“I think so. Hell Chris, I haven’t a clue what to do now.”
“Whatever you do, I’ll be with you,” I said.
“I know, and it makes all the difference. You have no idea how much I love you.”
“Oh, don’t I?”
“I so want to hold you again.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow, and I am so excited, even if it is for a sad reason.”
“Look, I have to go. I hope to be with you by noon. I’ll ring if I get delayed.”
“All right, don’t drive too fast.”
“I love you, Christina.”
“Me too.”
“Bye, my love.”
“Bye.”
I sat on the sofa, just feeling warm and fuzzy, as I always did after talking to him. I was going to see him tomorrow. I was so excited.
I rang my mother and told her what was happening. She was great, and said she would make lunch for us before we set off up to Scotland.
I hardly slept, so was up by seven. I was so eager to see him again. I packed, and realised that I was going to have to go to a funeral. I dashed out and spent too much on several outfits, one was a very chic black dress. It was warm as well as being stylish, and I bought a black jacket to go with it. On my way back I saw a black felt hat, with a wide brim, that resembled the hats that Clint Eastwood wore in his westerns. With my ash blonde hair, it was the business.
I loaded up my little Fiat and drove home. It was raining hard, so it was slow going until I got out of London. I had the radio on and sang along with all the songs. I got home at eleven thirty, and unpacked my car. Dad was at work, and I found Mama in the kitchen. She was making a lasagne, and was just putting it in the oven as I walked in.
“Ah, Chris. I was wondering where you’d got to.”
“It’s chucking down, traffic was terrible in London, and there was an accident near Northolt on the Western Avenue. I should have got here ages ago,” I said.
She gave me a hug, and looked at me.
“My, you are looking well. Have you lost weight?”
I grinned.
“A little, but I’m a lot fitter. I’ve joined a gym, and have been working out every day,” I said.
“You look very good. All the puppy fat has gone.”
“Puppy fat?” I asked.
“You know what I mean. You used to look comfortable, now you look sleek. Like a leopard.”
I smiled, she had such a wonderful way with words.
We sat and chatted over a coffee for a while, and then I heard the sound of a car on gravel. With a racing heart I dashed out to see Alistair getting out of his Porsche. He hadn’t even changed, and was still in his camouflage combats and boots. In no time, I was in his arms, and he was hugging me for all he was worth. We were both crying with joy.
With my head on his chest, I smelled him, drawing his scent deep in my soul. He was back, and I was whole again.
“God, Chris, it’s so good to hold you again! This moment has kept me going through everything,” he said.
“Mmmm,” I said, just happy to be held.
“Come on, we’re getting wet, let’s go in,” he said.
I didn’t care, as it was sunny in my soul. But I let him hold me and walk me back inside.
He let go of me to kiss Mama, and he gave her a huge bunch of flowers. I hadn’t even seen them.
“No flowers for me then?” I teased, as Mama went to find a vase.
“Your present comes later,” he said with a cheeky grin. I could hardly wait, I wanted him so much.
Lunch was over in a blink of an eye, and I was hugging my mother as Alistair placed my cases in his car.
“You drive Chris, I want to sleep. I had you put on my insurance this morning,” he said, and I gasped. He trusted me to drive his baby?
I waved goodbye to my mother, drove carefully out of the drive, and away up the road towards the motorway.
Alistair sat and looked at me.
“You’ve changed,” he said.
“Oh?”
“You are more beautiful than ever. You look, I don’t know, just different.”
“I’ve been getting fit, and I lost my cast,” I said, waving my left arm in the air.
He caught it and kissed it.
“I love you so much. Every day I longed to hold you, to touch you, and to make love to you. The guys say I’m love sick, and I am.”
“Still?”
“More than ever.”
We joined the M40, and I accelerated up the outside lane, enjoying the power under my feet.
“I’m going to have to sell this.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Where will the baby seats go?”
“In the back of my Range Rover,” I teased, and he nodded.
“Okay. If that is what you want.”
“Alistair, I don’t care. I just want to be with you.”
He smiled and reclined his seat. He was asleep in seconds, with a contented smile on his face.
I turned on the radio and, keeping the volume low, just drove, happy to have him back. I noticed that the fuel was getting low, so I pulled off into Carlisle Services.
I filled up the car, and leaving him asleep, I went to the loo. I bought some water and some chocolates and returned to the car. He was still asleep.
I rejoined the main road and kept going north. I was feeling a little weary, but obviously not as weary as he was. We crossed the border into Scotland, so I just kept driving up the M74.
The Porsche was a dream to drive, and I had to watch the speed, as it was very easy to creep up to over 100mph.
It was with some relief that I pulled in through the gates of Dundas House and up the long drive. It was dark now and I was quite tired myself.
“Hey, Sleepyhead, wake up,” I said, and he opened an eye.
“Is it my turn?” he asked, stretching. Then he saw the house come into view. He sat up with shock and surprise.
“Bloody hell. Chris, I never meant for you to drive all the way! You should have woken me up.”
“Why? You were very tired,” I asked, pulling up outside the large front entrance.
“Go straight to Eileen’s, as she’s giving us supper,” he said, so I set off again. A few minutes later I parked outside Eileen’s home, and switched off the engine.
I got out of the car and, despite the driving rain, I had to stretch off as my muscles were aching. He got out and stretched as well. We looked so silly we both burst out laughing.
“Where are we staying, here or in your cottage?” I asked.
“Oh, the cottage. But unless you have brought any food, we would go to bed hungry I’m afraid.”
“I’d be just happy going to bed,” I said, and he smiled.
“Don’t tempt me, my love,” he replied.
We ran to the front door and went in.
Eileen came and met us in the hall.
“Oh Alistair, darling. I am so sorry,” she said, giving him a big hug.
“Och, Auntie, we may not have been close, but I wish we had been,” he said.
She smiled.
“Edgar was only close to Edgar. The only person he ever loved was Mary. But in his funny way he loved you very much,” she said.
“Very funny,” Alistair said, rather bitterly.
Eileen noticed me, and came and gave me hug.
“Oh Christina darling, how wonderful of you to be here for this horrid time,” she said.
“He needs me,” I said, and she smiled.
“You are so right,” she said, leading us into the sitting room, where we fought the Labradors to get close to the open log fire. Alistair poured himself a whisky and topped up his aunt’s glass. I smiled, as this was obviously a family tradition.
“What can I get you, Chris?” he asked.
“G and T?”
“Ice and lemon?”
“Please.”
“How was your journey?” she asked, as Alistair made the drink.
“I have no idea. I slept for seven hours. Chris drove the whole way and never woke me up.”
“It was alright. I could have done without the driving rain, and with the headlights it was quite tiring. But his snores kept me awake,” I said, to which they both chuckled. He handed me my drink, I took a sip, finding he had made it very strong.
“She’s a bloody wonder. I was really tired, hadn’t slept at all for twenty-four hours or longer. I feel better now,” he said.
“Well, I have just done a casserole for supper, I didn’t know when you were arriving,” Eileen said.
“That sounds super, Christina’s mum fed us well for lunch, so we’ve been spoiled today.”
“Well let’s eat, I don’t know about you, but I’m starving,” she said, and we went into her small dining room. All her furniture was antique, and she had some lovely hunting prints on the dining room wall. The table sat six, but looked as if it would extend to seat ten or twelve.
She brought some baked potatoes and a casserole out, and dished up. Before I could react, Alistair poured me a glass of red wine. I had hardly touched my gin. I drained the gin, but realised that it wouldn’t take much to get me sozzled.
“Anna called me at about seven, yesterday morning. I went over to the house, and the doctor was already there. It was wholly expected, and had been for weeks. The only real surprise was that the obstinate old bugger had hung on for so long.
“Anyway, the doctor was able to issue a death certificate, and then the undertakers whisked him away. The office has been fielding calls all day, most of them about you. I might say,” Eileen said.
“Me?” asked Alistair.
“Oh yes, and your bride. Apparently, a picture appeared of you two at the Angus Ball, and Hello Magazine has been constantly trying to contact you. As has Harpers and Queen, and Country Life. The funny thing is that hardly anyone is interested in Edgar’s death, your engagement is far more newsworthy. Oh, I tell a lie, some financial journal wanted to know who is taking over the old man’s business empire.”
“What picture?” I asked.
She smiled, went to the side board and produced a copy of the Dundee Courier and Advertiser.
There was a large photograph of Alistair and I enjoying a moment together at the Ball. We were standing close together and luckily my left side was out of shot. I had my right hand firmly held by his right hand, and we were looking into each other’s eyes. He was laughing and I was smiling him. He looked very handsome and dashing in his mess dress. I was pleased that my dress looked really elegant.
“You really make a lovely couple,” Eileen said.
There were six photographs on the page, under the general caption of:
|
“When’s the funeral?” Alistair asked.
“That is up to you, you’re the Earl now.”
“Fuck!” he said.
“Alistair!”
“Sorry Auntie. But I had sort of forgotten. I suppose it had better be early next week. Has it gone in the paper yet?”
“No, that’s your job as well.”
Alistair nodded. He looked suddenly very serious and glanced at me.
“I never asked for all this,” he said, almost apologetically.
I took his hand.
“I know, but I’m here for you.”
He smiled. “Thanks. I don’t think I’d like to go through this alone.”
“You don’t have to,” I said.
We finished supper, by which time I felt more than a bit tiddly. Not being a drinker, the gin and wine had been more than I usually drank in a week.
After I helped wash up, we sat in the cosy sitting room, while Eileen and Alistair reminisced about the dead Earl’s life.
I sat and listened, learning a little more about the man I would never really know. However, the heat, the journey and the wine got the better of me, and I must have dropped off.
I woke as Alistair gently shook me, and we said goodnight to his Aunt. He drove the short distance to his cottage, which was all in darkness. We unloaded the car, taking the cases into the main bedroom, which was freezing. He lit the boiler, so we changed into night clothes very quickly and snuggled together under the huge duvet.
For months I had imagined our first night as a night of unbridled passion, where we would make love all night. Instead, we cuddled up to each other and went straight to sleep.
It was still raining when I awoke with a full bladder. It was getting light, so I guessed it was about seven or so. The cottage’s heating had come on, so it was warmer than the previous evening, so I went to the loo.
I was slipping back into bed when Alistair woke up.
“Hello you,” he said.
I snuggled up to him.
“Hello you too,” I said, and he kissed me.
“You’re all scratchy,” I said.
“Mmm, I want a pee too.”
He rolled out of bed, so I dozed for a while. When he came back, he kissed me again. He had shaved. I smiled and we cuddled for a while. It was so lovely to be held by him again that I never wanted this moment to end. As I caressed him, he became aroused, and as I sensed that, I became aroused, and before I knew what was happening, we were making love.
He was very tender again, and it was as good as the last time, if not better. The time we had been apart was now forgotten, as we both became one once more.
We climaxed together and lay entwined for a while. He removed his condom, and once more I wished he hadn’t used one.
“I suppose I shall have to go on the pill,” I said.
“Don’t if you don’t want to.”
“I want to feel you inside me without that bloody rubber thing. But I want your children even more,” I admitted.
“I’m glad, but not yet. We must wait until we get married, and I’ve left the army. I don’t want you to struggle with kids alone. My mother did, but my wife will not.”
I kissed him and reached for him, so we made love again.
He had to go to the estate office, as the family solicitor was coming to discuss the will and funeral arrangements at ten. I took the Porsche into Perth and did some shopping. I went round Tescos, feeling very domesticated and almost wifely. I kept seeing young women with push chairs, feeling an ache in my belly. I was getting broody. I was also very aware of my appearance and my accent. Everyone in the shops was very polite but rather distant. They treated me with more respect than anyone in London, it was as if I was automatically categorised into the ‘rich landowner’ class. It was beginning to get to me when I suddenly saw Sheila doing her shopping.
“Sheila!” I almost yelled. She looked up, smiling when she recognised me.
I pushed my way over to her, relieved to see someone I knew. We hugged and kissed.
“Christina, what on earth are you doing up here?” she asked.
“Alistair’s father died the day before yesterday. He flew back from Bosnia yesterday morning, and we drove up after lunch. I have to get some food in, as his larder is completely bare. How are you and the family?”
“We’re all fine, thanks. I heard from Alex yesterday, he and Ingrid are still very much in love. Have you heard from her at all?”
“No. Mama has, she phones her at least twice a week to remind her to change her underwear. I remember that very well when I was at Cambridge.”
“How is Alistair?”
“He’s okay. I think he’s feeling a real mix of emotions. The old man was rather unpleasant to him, so it’s not easy for him. He’s arranging the funeral and getting all the legal bits and pieces sorted. I was quite happy to escape from that.”
“Are you still working for the advertising company?”
“No, I’ve just left. I think my life is about to get rather complicated. We’re planning to get married in June, so there is quite a lot to do, particularly as Alistair won’t even be in the UK for most of the time up until just before.”
We pushed round the supermarket together, so I was really pleased to have one friend to talk to.
We had a coffee together, when she made me promise to bring Alistair over for dinner one evening. I told her that I would sort him out and give her a ring. I already had her number in my mobile.
I got back to the cottage at about noon, so gave it a clean, putting away the shopping. I drove up to the big house to find Alistair in the office with a fifty year-old man in a dark suit.
Alistair smiled and waved me in.
“John, this is Christina, my Countess,” he said. “Sweetie, this is John Wedderburn, the family lawyer.”
The solicitor shook my hand, and Alistair invited me to stay.
“Christina is more than my fiancée, she’s my soul mate. Nothing we say is a secret for her, as we don’t have secrets,” Alistair said.
They discussed business matters for a while. Secrets or not, it was really boring. However, it dawned on me that we would never ever want for anything. As they discussed the will, it became apparent that Alistair was to inherit almost everything. Eileen was given lifetime tenure of her farmhouse, and a very modest income. Her children each received £500,000, and a couple of other named individuals received small legacies.
My husband to be was a very wealthy young man. His father had transferred all his business capital and companies into Alistair’s name several years ago, The house and estate was his by right, and the wily old man had taken every step possible to avoid the crippling death duties and inheritance tax.
“It’ll take a few weeks, or even months to sort out much of the personal capital and investments, but the business side of things have been tied up nicely. What you need to decide is whether you want to retain the executive status, or whether you want the various boards to continue the management of each company or group of companies.”
“For the moment, the boards know a hell of a lot more than me. Nevertheless, I need to know what is going on.”
John nodded.
“It will be expected that you will attend the various board meetings. Now that your father has died, they’ll all hold special meetings. I think they are a wee bit worried that you will be just like your old man, and try and run them the same way as he did.”
I smiled, meeting Alistair’s eyes.
“I am not my father. I have an altogether different agenda,” he said.
“That’ll be good. What about the estate?”
“We have a good estate manager in John Cruikshank, so he can keep things going until I leave the army, and then we will see. Christina and I have a steep learning curve ahead of us,” he said, taking my hand.
Once they agreed on a date for the funeral, and all the paperwork and notifications were completed, we experienced rather an anti-climax. It was Friday and the funeral was set for the following Friday afternoon. The theory being that people didn’t have to ruin a perfectly good weekend for a funeral, so neither did they have to lose anything other than the last afternoon of the working week.
Alistair and I went to the local church and spoke to the vicar. His father had never been a great one for church, so Alistair told the vicar not to pull punches.
“My father worshiped the great god of materialism. So none of your usual prattle about him being a good man going to a better place, for unless he had a deathbed experience, that old so-and-so went straight to hell,” he said.
“That’s a bit harsh,” the vicar replied.
“Did you ever see my father in here?”
“No, I have to confess that I don’t think I did.”
“No, then all I ask is for you to tell it how it is. There is one way to the Father, and he never found it.”
“You don’t know that for sure, Alistair,” I said.
He looked at me.
“Christina, you’re right. Not for absolutely sure. But I would gamble all my wealth, the estate and the title on the fact that he didn’t.”
“I don’t gamble, but I just hope and pray that your sad father met with his God just before he died.”
He looked at me and smiled.
“Then there is always hope,” he said, and the vicar smiled too.
“I would rather give hope rather than a message of gloom and despondency,” the vicar said.
“I’d like my father to be an example of the dangers of greed and selfishness,” Alistair said.
We had some discussion, and it was plain that Alistair was still felt very bitter towards his father. I had no knowledge upon which to form an opinion, but voiced the only opinion I had.
“Alistair, we never knew what happened on his death bed. So, one can only speak of that which we know, and of what we can hope and pray for. If it helps, look at the message at the funeral for those who are still here, it’s too late for your father as he has died, so which ever way he has gone is a matter between him and his God,” I said.
Both men stared at me, and the vicar smiled.
“Perfect. I will make my message along those lines. So, my Lord, if you approve, I shall not pull my punches, but then I shall not deliberately set out to offend or shock. You said it yourself, there is but one way to the Father.”
I registered that he called Alistair, ‘My Lord’. I had a quick touch of the seconds, did I really want to throw myself into this aristocratic maelstrom?
I looked at Alistair, who was looking worried, and as he glanced at me, I smiled, and his face changed completely. He softened, and seemed to take strength from my smile.
Of course I wanted to...
End of Part 3
To Be Continued...
Comments
Bailey Summers As with
Bailey Summers
As with almost everything you write I truly enjoyed it. Please keep up all your good works.
Bailey Summers
Second Chance-7
Reads like a modern fantasy.
May Your Light Forever Shine
May Your Light Forever Shine
Another Wonderful Tale
Tanya,
This is turning into another one of your wonderful tales. I look forward to the next chapter and more of this modern fairy tale.
As always,
Dru
As always,
Dru
A wonderful story. Vote +1
I really have little more to say. :)
Faraway
Big Closet Top Shelf
Where you can fool around like you want to and most you get is some bemused good ribbing!
Faraway
Big Closet Top Shelf
Where you can fool around like you want to and most you get is some bemused good ribbing!
I was beginning to think
I was beginning to think Christina was a bloody snob after that encounter with the guy annoying her in the Gym,
Maybe I was a bit harsh as she has shown herself in a better light with the passing of Alistairs father so there's still hope for her yet?
Nice story Tanya.
LoL
Rita
Age is an issue of mind over matter.
If you don't mind, it doesn't matter!
(Mark Twain)
LoL
Rita
I think it's all in the situation
IMO Christina was being not snobbish, but catty. After all, the guy:
---considered himself Heaven-sent in his initial attitude for greetings - "I'm a broker" line shows that.
---jumped to a wrong conclusion about Chris being kicked out and made fun of it in an insulting comment.
So Chris simply treated him within the same framework he himself established.
Faraway
Big Closet Top Shelf
Where you can fool around like you want to and most you get is some bemused good ribbing!
Faraway
Big Closet Top Shelf
Where you can fool around like you want to and most you get is some bemused good ribbing!
Too perfect!
Funerals are for the living, so that last bit seems perfectly appropriate.
Wonderful story!
Thanks!
Abby
I do hope
that this will be continued. You have good characters and a setting with lots of possibilities. How about stringing them along again? There is a wedding ahead, opportunities to teach foreigners proper hunting techniques and attitudes, potential conflicts about the running of businesses, and otther things that exceed my limited imagination. Chistina still needs opportunities to "give back."
Much Love,
Valerie R
Part 4?
I know it's been over a decade, but this is one of your stories that I have always loved. Emma, Shit Happens, The Hard Way - When I need to get in a good frame of mind, I read one of them. Second Chance is my favorite unfinished story. Is there a chance, perhaps, that you might finish and then publish it?
Thanks so much,
Larimus
ah, thanks for the reminder....
...I had completely forgotten about this little gem.
I shall revisit it, re-write it where it needs improvement and continue it. I may well complete it here or even publish it on my Amazon Library.
A girl needs to eat, after all!
Tanya
There's no such thing as bad weather, just the wrong clothes!
Excellent!
Always looking out for more tales with your name attached, so will keep my eyes open for the next instalment, or kindle version of this gripping story.
Stay safe everyone.