Weird Wednesday by Tanya Allan   Richard Williamson leaves attractive thirty-five year-old Vanessa and their teenage son, Simon, in the lurch for another woman. After a gruelling twelve months, Vanessa is tired of fighting for pennies to just exist. Called to her son’s school, as Simon appears to be having a breakdown, she is at the end of her emotional tether. Simon, on the other hand, driven by equally powerful emotions is determined to make his father pay for his betrayal of his mother and for hurting her so deeply. On the way home from the school they are involved in a freak accident, whereby the car leaves the road and is hit suddenly by thousands of volts of electricity. Simon wakes up in hospital to find he is now in his mother’s body. Lying in the bed next to him is his body, but who’s inside it? Richard, returning to the UK on a false passport to realise some undeclared assets, unwittingly sets off a chain of events that threatens to engulf all. No one took into account a plucky young woman, calling herself Nessa, and her very fresh perspective on life. A baffled young boy, reluctantly answering to the name of Simon finds himself back at school for the second time around, but the first time had been as a girl! The problems double as a way to change back is discovered... but someone decides she doesn’t want to go back to being a boy!

 
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The Legal Stuff:Weird Wednesday  ©2009 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. Any commercial use by anyone other than the author is strictly prohibited.
 
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.
 
 
Chapter 6
 
 
Richard Williamson noted the plane had finally stopped moving after an age of taxiing around the taxiways at Heathrow Airport. It took a while for them to attach the gantry to the front of the Air New Zealand Boeing 747, and there was a bustle as the passengers started gathering their bits together in anticipation. He waited for the other passengers to leave before standing up and moving into the aisle. It was raining at Heathrow and he felt very strange to be back.

He was in no rush, he wanted to make the minimum fuss as possible and then fly back out again as soon as his business was completed. He was a tall man, and with his long greying hair, bushy beard, scruffy denims and old duffle coat, he looked very different to the suave businessman who had left these shores several months previously.

He was travelling on a New Zealand passport under the name of Samuel Jeffreys. It was a genuine passport, except the photograph wasn’t the original. He knew he was taking a risk, but he had left some assets in the UK that only he could realise. The first was a racehorse, called Mr Wobbley, which he’d had kept very quiet to avoid the dreaded taxman and the divorce settlement. It was a three-times winner, and runner up in eight other races so was worth several thousand pounds.

The second was a property deal he’d undertaken with a dubious character called Fast Eddie McDonagh, from London’s East End, as a partner. He’d ‘assisted’ the man purchase a large part of the Dockland’s developments, by running crooked cash through his small limited company he’d set up as a consultancy firm. He’d helped Fast Eddie become a legitimate businessman and as a result was owed five hundred thousand pounds for his part in a multi-million pound deal. Unable to collect this money prior to his hasty retreat a year ago, he now desperately needed the capital in order to establish a comfortable standard of living.

None of these activities was strictly legal and certainly, he couldn’t let his ex-wife or the Inland Revenue in on his secrets. The Serious Fraud Office would probably like to invite him for a lengthy chat too, if they all but knew. His one problem would be to get back into the house as he’d left so quickly he’d forgotten some very important papers. These papers were the levers with which he could persuade Eddie to part with the cash.

Richard made his way down the long corridors of Terminal Three to the immigration desks. He lined up with other non-EC passengers, and waited his turn. He was interested to note that over half the immigration officers were non-white, mainly from the Indian sub-continent. When he reached the front of the queue, nervously he presented his passport to a bored looking Indian girl wearing a sari. The woman ran his passport under the UV lamp.

“What’s your reason for coming to the UK?” she asked.

“Visiting relatives,” he said, with a New Zealand twang.

“How long do you propose staying?”

“Three weeks at most.”

“Do you have a return ticket?”

Saying nothing, he simply showed it to her.

Nodding, she stamped the passport and handed it back, already looking at the next customer. Richard breathed a sigh of relief and walked down the escalator into the baggage hall. He noted the half dozen Customs Officers eyeing up their potential customers, so he rapidly exited through the ‘Nothing to Declare’ channel.

He had no luggage, only his holdall that he’d taken onto the plane, so he wandered over to the central bust station to find the bus for Cambridge. As he sat on the bus, he reflected on his predicament.

He had been a little reluctant to leave Vanessa and young Simon, but he found himself in a job that was disappearing from under his feet, as he got wind of the fact his days were numbered due to ‘financial restructuring and downsizing’. He also had felt trapped in a relationship that was going nowhere. Vanessa was an attractive woman, but latterly she hadn’t been interested in sex as much as he’d have liked. Her attention was cast in other directions, so he felt largely useless at home as well, particularly as his son was away at school for most of the year. Even when Simon was at home, their relationship was somewhat strained and the lad had become almost a stranger. The boy was very close to Vanessa, which irked him emmensely.

Susannah was completely different. Not as well brought up, but she was bags of fun, totally dependant upon him and very highly sexed.

At twenty-eight, she was seven years younger than Vanessa, and nine years younger than Richard. Her father, Gerry McCallum was a self-made millionaire in the property business, and Richard saw a way of improving his circumstances. However, Gerry hadn’t liked Richard from the outset, tying up his money so Richard couldn’t get his hands on it. Susannah was delighted to leave Britain, so together they managed to get enough money to buy a small hotel at the north of North Island, near Dargaville.

He hadn’t counted on Vanessa flying out to New Zealand, acquiring the services of an excellent private detective and solicitor, and taking him to court for breach of matrimonial agreements in the UK. The judge ordered his assets seized, and the couple found themselves with a roof over their heads, a huge mortgage and no capital at all.

Richard became quickly disillusioned with the hotel. It was far too much like working for a living, and although Susannah worked hard, the profit margin was slender at best, so Richard decided to return to England and call in his chips. Susannah had baby Gail to look after, so that impacted on the share of workload.

He watched the grey November England pass by the bus. He had many regrets. The New Zealand life wasn’t as wonderful as he had hoped. Vanessa had been more tenacious than he had expected, and had really fought hard. He felt guilty about leaving, but now that guilt was replaced by frustration that she had managed to bugger his carefully laid plans.

He didn’t blame her, but rather naively perhaps, he felt she should have just been able to get on with life and leave him alone. He missed Simon, and hoped that he might have a chance to see him before he returned to New Zealand. He knew he was running a risk, but he wanted to convince his son that he wasn’t all bad.

He was astute enough to realise that Vanessa’s hopelessly twisted perception of events had probably affected Simon. He should also have realised that the events affected Simon in his own right, but Richard was a little blind to the impact his actions had really had on the family he’d abandoned.

The Hemmings’ Stables and Stud was some fifteen miles east of Cambridge, so it was quite late by the time he finally arrived. He’d hired the car in Cambridge, as the police were less likely to check after the event.

The house and main outhouses were all white, and the white picket fences made it look attractive, even in the November dusk. He drove up the drive, and parked by the main front door. He got out of the car and rang the doorbell.

A woman came to the door, putting on the outside light. Richard screwed up his eyes in the glare.

“Yes, can I help you?” she asked.

“Hello Glenda, is Rob in?”

The woman frowned, and peered at the strange man with a beard. Glenda Hemmings was a plump woman approaching fifty, dressed in the uniform of stable owners everywhere - worn trousers and green quilted body warmer. The man’s voice was familiar, but she couldn’t place him.

“It’s Richard, Richard Williamson, remember? I own Mr Wobbley,” he told her.

“My God! Richard, I didn’t recognise you, you’ve changed my dear. Come on in,” she said, opening the door for him. She had a real West County accent, so it was somewhat out of place in Cambridgeshire.

“Tell me about it,” he said, followng her into the house.

Rob Hemmings was the opposite of his wife. He was small and wiry. He was fifty-two next birthday, yet he still looked like the champion Jockey he had once been.

“Rob, look who’s here, it’s Richard,” Glenda said.

Even with the information supplied, he still didn’t recognise Richard.

“It’s the beard,” Richard said, and then Rob twigged.

“Good gracious, why the disguise?”

“Long story, but vengeful ex-wives and bailiffs to name but two.”

“Ah, so you want to sell poor old Mr Wobbley?”

“Got it in one. Any chance?”

“He’s had a bloody good season, so you should get a tidy sum. It won’t be quick, though.”

“How much and how long?”

“Six weeks, probably, and around thirty to forty grand, due to his age and current form. Even as a stud, you’d get a decent price.”

“I haven’t got six weeks.”

Rob didn’t get to where he was today by passing opportunities. He also knew that this horse more than paid his way. The proceeds of winnings had kept him at the stables and given Richard some income, but obviously not enough. Rob knew that he could make more than what he would pay for him in two seasons, as long as he kept winning.

“Look, I’ll give you twenty-five for him, but it will have to be by Friday, as I have some money due me next week.”

“You said thirty to forty?”

Rob spread his hands out.

“Look, I’m doing you a favour. For five thou, you get the sale in a week, cash and no questions asked. What do you say?”

Richard was disappointed. He had hoped to get as much as fifty thousand. However, he knew that the realities were not going to come up that high. He pretended to mull it over.

“Oh, all right, but it has to be by Friday next week!”

Rob smiled and held out his hand.

They shook.

“You’ll stay for supper, Richard?” Glenda asked.

Richard relaxed and smiled for the first time since arriving in England.

“Thanks, I’d love to.”

 

*          *          *
 
“Nessa, I can’t!”

“Don’t be such a baby, isn’t that what you used to say to me?”

“It’s been twenty-two years since I was thirteen!”

It was Monday morning and Nessa drove the hire car neatly through the gates of the school, probably faster than anyone had previously. Nessa had been driving for two weeks now, and Sy had to admit she was not as bad as she could have been. Nessa had told Sy that as Simon he had actually driven the old car on the farm quite a lot. Sy insisted she read and understand the Highway Code.

Nessa had gone out and bought a Driving Test DVD ROM, and staggered Sy by completing the mock test with one hundred percent correct.

She still drove a good deal quicker than Sy would have liked, and probably because he made a fuss. The BMW was due to be returned next week, and Sy dreaded to think what Nessa would make of the more powerful car with an automatic gearbox.

“Shit, that was close,” Sy said.

“Language, Simon!” said Nessa with a particularly sadistic grin.

“This isn’t funny.”

“It’s bloody hilarious from where I’m sitting,” said Nessa, as she managed to stop the car a few millimetres away from the wall.

“What do I do?”

“Just look miserable, say nothing, and grunt when pressed. I’ve been doing that for weeks.”

“But I’m supposed to know everyone’s names.”

“We’ve been through this. I’ve drawn you a picture of where everyone is sleeping and sitting in the junior common room. I’ve written their names and nicknames. I haven’t been here long enough for anyone to really get to know me yet. Just wing it, you always told me you were such a good actor.”

Sy looked miserable.

“That’s it! You have my expression down to a tee. Remember, we’ve seen a counsellor and the advice is to get stuck back into your studies and school. You’ve had a rough time, but now you’re coming out of it. We can’t keep you out indefinitely, you must realise that?”

“I do, but what if I make a complete cock-up?”

“Do what I did, throw a wobbly and blame it on the divorce and accident. Leave it to me to square away the head, and I’ll spring you so we can go see your nutty professor as and when he’s ready for us.”

“What the hell are you going to do?”

Nessa locked the car and looked at Sy.

“I’m not sure. I suppose the first thing I’ll do is see about flying to New Zealand.”

“I’ve been there and the solicitor said it might take months.”

“I wasn’t planning on seeing the solicitor.”

“Nessa, don’t be silly. You need a plan, and you have to be so careful. Richard’s a strong and crafty man.”

“I want to see where he is, look over his other woman, and generally get a lie of the land. Who knows, an opportunity might just present itself.”

They walked into the school Jacob Carter came out to meet them.

“Vanessa, I was so sad to hear about your accident. What with everything else, it seems you’ve had more than your share of bad luck.”

“Thank you, Jacob,” Nessa said, smiling at the man, as he opened his study door.

“Do come in, take a seat. I was quite surprised to receive your call. I half expected you to take Simon out for the rest of term.”

“I’ve a feeling things can only get better now. Jacob, I believe that Simon should be at school. This is an important time in his life, so we’ve seen a Professor Burton, and he’s of the opinion that Simon needs stability and routine. I’m not sure I can give it to him at home just yet, so as reluctant as he may be, I believe that he should continue with his studies and get stuck into everything else you have to offer.”

Simon looked daggers at her and she winked at him.

“I hope you’ll take his current circumstances into account, but I really feel he is better off protected from what’s going on at present,” she said.

“I agree, heartily. I think you are being very sensible. Does he have any future appointments?”

“Yes, Professor Burton was most optimistic and is actively seeking to bring the best out of Simon. We had a very promising initial session, and he suggests a few weeks getting back to normal before he starts then next series of sessions.”

“Excellent. Well, Simon, I suppose you want to run along. Your classmates are just heading for lunch. I suggest you meet them there.”

If looks could kill, Nessa would have curled up and died on the spot. She made it worse by sticking her tongue out at the unfortunate lad behind Jacob Carter’s back.

Sy had no choice other than to kiss his ‘mother’s’ cheek and leave them alone.

He shut the door behind him.

He stared at the large hall and heard the distant rumble that was young men preparing to take their luncheon. He followed the noise. Finding the large dining room, he entered and was immediately pounced on by some strange boy of roughly the same age and build.

“Sy, you silly sod, when did you get back?”

“Um, just now,” he stammered.

Another boy, of similar age, came over to him.

“Hi Sy, heard about the accident. We heard you went in a helicopter, what was it like?”

“I was unconscious, so I don’t remember. I woke up several hours later in hospital with my mum.”

“So, no serious injuries then?” asked the first boy, somewhat disappointed.

“Yeah, the electric shock swapped me and my mum’s brains. I’m really my mum, and she’s me!”

The boys laughed and dragged him into the queue for food. By the time he reached the servery, he’d found out everyone’s name and was feeling more confident about life. He was faintly surprised that Simon had such a large collection of friends and started to relax, a bit.
 

*          *          *
 
Nessa was still in the Headmaster’s study, explaining a little about the supposed counselling sessions they had ‘arranged’ for Simon.

“It’s all to do with his father deserting us, you see. The professor wants him to have some other focus on his life, as it could be so easy for the boy to be consumed with hatred and to blame himself for Richard going. It’s important he’s built up and encouraged, so I’d ask that you and your staff try to focus on the positive with him, even though he might be operating below par, so to speak.”

Jacob nodded and closely attended the young woman. He’d met Vanessa on several occasions, mainly with her husband present, while they were seeking the right school for their son. Richard had always appeared the strong driving force in the relationship, but he recognised in Vanessa a very strong personality shining through and she was most charming as well.

He responded with a smile, reassuring her that he would speak to the staff with a view to highlighting those positive aspects of Simon’s work, in an attempt to allow him space to draw out his hurt.

Nessa drove away conscious that she was now free to seek retribution. Apart from being alone in the car for the first time, she had absolutely no idea what she was going to do.

 

*          *          *
 
Gerry McCallum stood looking out over a vast area of developed Docklands. He was on the fifteenth floor of a very new tower.

A pretty redhead came over to him. He admired her exceptionally trim figure, squeezed into a very tight green dress.

“Mr McDonagh will see you now, Mr McCallum,” she said, raising one hand showing him to enter the office to his right.

“Thanks,” he said, picking up his briefcase and entering the office.

Fast Eddie watched the man come in and stood up from behind the enormous mahogany desk.

“Mr McCallum, I’m Eddie. I’ve heard a lot abaht ya,” he said, his East End accent very obvious and he made no attempt to conceal it.

“Eddie,” Gerry said, shaking the man’s hand. Gerry was a gruff Scotsman who didn’t believe in speaking unless there was a need for it.

Both men sized the other up. Each had made it the hard way - Gerry through hard work and bending the rules in places, and Eddie from bending the rules a lot and a lot of luck.

“McDonagh? I take it that’s the Irish?”

“Yeah, my granddad came over during the famine, got a job in the docks. I was born in Bow, so I’m a true Cockney.”

Gerry nodded.

“What can I do for ya?” Eddie asked.

“Word has it that you dealt with one Richard Williamson,” Gerry said.

Eddie half closed his eyes and said nothing, waiting for the Scotsman to continue.

“Let me be frank, I don’t give a shit aboot wha’ he did, or that he’s a mate of yours. He’s fucked off te the other side o’ the world wi ma wee daughter, and that has pissed me an’ her ma off greatly. She’s had oor granddaughter, an’ we haven’t yet seen her. Now, I made some enquiries wi’ a mutual friend, an’ he told me aboot yer arrangement wi’ yon bastard Williamson. I’m here te ask a favour of ye.”

“Go on, I’m listenin’.”

“Right, I know he’s been taken to the cleaners by his ex-wife, an’ I dinna ha’e any beef wi’ her. In fact, the poor lass has all my sympathies. I know she doesnae know anything aboot yer deal, so what I’m after is a wee nudge if the bugger contacts ye.”

“Why should he?”

“Because I know you owe him aboot half a mil. He’s skint and the courts in this country and New Zealand are after what little he’s got left. I figure, that if he has fuck all, then Susannah will ha’e nae alternative but te come hame and ditch the scheming bastard.”

“I’d be interested in where you got your information.”

“Aye, I’ll bet ye would. But I’ll no betray a friend. Sufficient to say, neither of us ha’e anything te fear from the other. I’m no’ a threat, I just want my daughter te come back.”

Fast Eddie saw a way of saving himself five hundred thousand and he smiled.

“I think we could help each other ’ere. Fancy a drink?”

“Aye, a wee malt would go doon a treat,” said Gerry, and the two men sat down to discuss how they could help each other, once Eddie poured them both some Scotch.

“If he comes back, do ye reckon he’ll want to see his ex?” Gerry asked.

“Nah, ’e’s more likely to want to see ’is kid. He was proud of ’im, kept telling me abaht his fucking rugger matches.”

“Does he no live wi’ his mum?”

“Do us a favour, mate, ’e’s a fucking toff. ’e sent his boy to one of them public schools, like the royals an’ that lot.”

“So, if I went te see Mrs Williamson, she’d no be reluctant te help?”

“I should think she’d bend over backwards to help, mate. She wants him hung aht to dry. The only problem I see, is that she needs cash, an’ here’s you wanting to stop ’im getting it.”

Gerry stood up and walked over to the vast window, and looked down the Thames towards Tower Bridge.

“What if you paid her a portion, say a fifth? She’d be more than happy and he’d be spitting mad.”

“Let’s not get too generous with my cash here. I’ve a vested interest to keep what’s mine for as long as I can. If I don’t need to pay anyone anything, the deal looks sweet to me, besides, she doesn’t know anything about this deal.”

Gerry nodded.

“Agreed, I’ll go speak to her, and leave you out of it. But if she’s as skint as I think, we might have to keep her sweet, and buy her cooperation.”

“You can buy what the fuck you like. In the end, if you keep him off my back, I’d be happy to pay her a hundred grand, if that saves me the half a mil!”

“Do you know where she lives?” Gerry asked, placing his empty glass on Eddie’s desk.

 

*          *          *
 
Nessa was giving herself a fashion show. She was trying on some of the clothes in Vanessa’s wardrobe that she had seen but never worn. Some of the slinky underwear was so fabulous that she couldn’t resist it, experimenting with different styles of makeup as well.

She’d been shopping that morning and had stuffed the freezer with pizza and ready cook meals. She’d kept the house tidy, aware that some semblance of order was necessary if Roz or any other of Vanessa’s friends came calling.

She was thoroughly enjoying being the woman and was now more than curious about sex. Simon hadn’t done more than have the normal teen fantasies, whereby vague, indistinct details were less important than the emotions pertaining to the curious merge of love and animalistic sex.

Nessa, on the other hand, knew what she wanted, or thought she did!

She found herself imagining large and well-built young men sweeping her off her feet and subjecting her to lengthy and very satisfying sessions of sexual activity. She masturbated frequently and on finding a vibrator in mother’s bedside drawer, decided that she wanted the real thing as soon as possible.

She was dimly aware that she had probably ruined any chance of returning to being Simon without some major traumas to deal with. Indeed, she was beginning to hope that there was no way of returning, but acknowledged that she would have to try for her mother’s sake.

She heard a car on the gravel and swore, as she was in a red basque with suspenders, stockings and a thong.

She hurriedly slipped on the dress she’d worn two days ago to take Simon back to school and was tidying up her makeup as the doorbell rang. Slipping her shoes on, she went down and opened it.

A tall, beefy looking man stood in the porch. She noted a new Jaguar parked on the drive.

“Yes?” she asked.

Gerry McCallum was surprised at her youth. For some reason, he’d imagined someone older. Richard was nearly forty and this girl didn’t look over thirty. She was also disarmingly attractive.

“Mrs Williamson?”

“Guilty, what can I do for you?” she asked with a smile that lit up her already pretty face. It made her stunningly beautiful and Gerry wondered what the hell Richard had been thinking of to leave such an attractive woman.

“My name’s Gerry McCallum, you don’t know me and I apologise for calling like this. It’s about your ex-husband.”

The smile was switched off in an instant and Gerry almost winced as her eyes took on a cold and almost dead look.

“What about him?” she asked, her tone flat and hard.

“I understand this is not the best time for you, but I believe we can help each other.”

“Why?”

“Mrs Williamson, your ex-husband has run off with my daughter and we haven’t seen her or heard from her for over a year. I want to make sure she’s alright and if possible persuade her to come home.”

Nessa opened the door.

“You’d better come in,” she said and he walked past her into the hall. He looked about him. It was an old house, built in grey stone, and yet the extensive internal renovation had modernised and created a light, open home with pale coloured wood floors and a curiously pleasant mix of antique and modern furniture.

He stood in the hall as she led him into the kitchen.

He watched her pert behind as she walked. Her walk was almost hypnotic and once again, he wondered what kind of fool this Richard was. The kitchen was ultra modern, but in an old-style setting. It was also immaculately clean. He knew enough to know he was looking at a very expensive part of the house.

“Sit down, please. Coffee, tea or something stronger?” she asked.

“A cup of tea would be fine, thanks, Mrs Williamson,” Gerry replied, sitting at the long scrubbed oak table.

“Call me Nessa, please, as Mrs Williamson sounds too bloody formal,” she told him, as she filled up the kettle and switched it on.

“So, what’s your plan?” she asked, standing with her back to the worktop and arms folded. Gerry got the impression that this was one woman he’d not want to cross.

“I believe he’ll try to come back to this country very soon.”

“Why should he? He knows that if he does, there are all kinds of court orders and stuff waiting for him.”

“There are ways to get about without using your own name. I can’t go into details, but he has a daughter now and I know money is tight for him. Susannah emailed her mother asking for money and, like a fool, she sent some without telling me. I found out by accident, so that set me thinking. Has the bugger got investments or other capital that no one knows about? The answer is, yes, he has.”

“The bastard! Do you know how much?”

“Not exactly, but I do know these are not something he can arrange from a distance. Let me be frank, some of them are not strictly legal.”

“Brilliant! Can we get him nicked?”

Gerry blinked. He’d thought about many different scenarios to force Susannah to return, and in his tunnel vision he had not even thought about setting the man up for arrest.

“I suppose we could,” he said, cautiously. He didn’t want to make an enemy of Fast Eddie, as the man had a reputation for taking extreme measures against those who betrayed him.

“Are you not interested in getting the money from him?” he asked.

“To be honest, yes. However, this house is worth a few bob, and if the worst comes to the worst, I can keep working. I’d rather see the sod behind bars, though. If that happens, I may still be able to have his assets seized.”

Nessa handed him a coffee and sat opposite him. She leaned across the table and he looked into those gorgeous eyes. She smiled.

“Let’s set the bastard up,” she said, and suddenly Gerry almost began to feel sorry for Richard Williamson - almost.

“All right, this is what I know….” He started to tell her everything, leaving out Eddie’s name.
 
 
Chapter 7
 
 
Richard returned to the Hemmings’ Stud on the appointed Friday. He’d spent the week trying to track Fast Eddie down. The old offices in Hackney were no longer there, a new development stood on the site, and no one had ever heard of the man.

He visited the Queen Eleanor pub on the London Fields, a haunt that Eddie had frequented a few years ago. The place had changed beyond all recognition. Modernised and with music almost unbearably loud, the local youth had made it their second home.

However, the small public bar was less transformed than the saloon bar, and an elderly regular imparted some information in exchange for a pint of Guinness.

“’e’s moved dahn the docklands, mate. Gorn all upmarket an’ proper, ’e ’as. A’ve ’erd tell ’e’s even gorn an’ bought ’imself a roller.”

Richard nodded. That would be Eddie’s style - a big plush office and a Rolls Royce. He smiled; Eddie was predictable, if nothing else. Richard was mildly concerned, as he knew that the Fraud Office and police would be able to spot him a mile away. Still, as long as he got that which he was owed before they swooped, he would be happy.

Richard had intended to drop in on Simon at school, but tracking Eddie had taken longer than expected. He wasn’t certain as to the best approach. By now, the headmaster would be under Vanessa’s spell and that was understandable. Therefore, he knew that any approach would have to be covert and would not be without difficulty.

Twenty five thousand pounds in fifty-pound notes looked quite a lot as Rob Hemmings counted it out across the kitchen table. Richard licked his lips. This was a serious chunk of capital, with which he could start to make a difference. It still wasn’t enough for him to really do what he wanted to.

He placed the cash into a big buff envelope and then into his rucksack.

He scribbled a bill of sale and handed it to Rob. Silently they shook hands to formalise the deal. Rob was pleased, as he knew that he was well able to get his money back through the horse.

Richard felt a little better as he drove back down the A10 towards London. Twenty five thousand wasn’t that much, but it made the journey a little worthwhile.
 

*          *          *
 
Eddie took the call in his Rolls Royce. He grunted a couple of times, and then switched the mobile off. He drove out to his house in Chigwell, and the ornate electric gates opened as the car approached.

He parked in the garage and walked into the house through the internal door. Stella, his wife was watching TV. He kissed her and then went to his study. He leafed through his diary, found a number and picked up the telephone.

“Gerry, ’e’s ’ere. An old mate of mine says he showed up at a pub I used to go to.”

“That’s interesting. Are you sure?”

“Oh yes, Despite the beard, the posh voice gave him away.”

“So, he changed appearance. I know a little lady who’ll be pleased to hear that.”

“Little lady, you mean his ex? What’s she like?”

“Put it this way, I don’t know why the bastard went off with my daughter, she’s delightful.”

“You didn’t tell her about me?”

“No, she’s bright though. She’s an idea how to set him up good and proper. If it works, you’ll keep your cash, and he’ll go away for a spell.”

“Careful Gerry, he could burn me on the way down.”

“I’m aware of that, but to be honest, without evidence, they can’t touch you!”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, it seems that Richard Williamson might have kept some documents in a safe at the house. If Mrs Williamson could get into it and extract them, she would have enough on you to burn you herself, but she won’t.”

“How much does she want?”

“There’s the thing, nothing. She says it was dirty money and never his in the first place. She doesn’t want to be part of it. She wants what’s rightfully hers, and says you’re not to worry.”

“I do worry, though, Gerry. I don’t like being in anyone’s hands, no matter how sexy those hands might be.”

“Trust me; I’ll get them for you.”

“I don’t trust easy, Gerry, remember that.”

“I will.”

Gerry hung up the phone and pulled out of the lay-by, heading back towards Oxfordshire.
 

*          *          *
 
Gerry was relieved when Nessa answered the door. She was wearing a tight skirt and a black silk blouse, and looked wonderful.

“Back again?” she asked with a smile.

“Your ex-husband is back in Britain,” he said.

Nessa went pale. “Are, .. are you sure?”

“As I can be, aye.”

“My God, Simon!”

“Your son?”

“Yes. I know Richard was a callous bastard, but I think he might try to contact Simon at school.”

“Will he not come here?”

“Not while I’m here. He might want to get to the safe we talked about, but I don’t think he’ll want to see me. He knows I’ll create a scene, and he wouldn’t want that.”

“You mentioned the safe. Can you get into it?”

Nessa grinned. “Probably, why?”

“I let slip to the interested party that there might be some documents that could be dangerous to him.”

“What happens if there are no documents?”

“There should be. Unless your husband hid them somewhere else, or took them when he did a bunk.”

“Will this not place me in danger to the crook?”

“Not if he gets the papers first.”

Nessa nodded went out to the hall and opened the cupboard under the stairs. She pulled the cord that removed the partition revealing a large safe secreted behind it.

A circular dial indicated it had a combination coded lock. Hitching up her skirt, she knelt down, displaying an inordinate amount of delightful leg, and tugged on the handle.

“Do you know the number?” Gerry asked, unable to take his eyes of her legs.

“No, but I can guess,” she replied, and started twiddling the dial. A few seconds later she grinned, pulled down on the handle with a satisfying clunk and opened the heavy door.

“That was easy,” Gerry said.

“It’s my, sorry, my son’s birthday; dead easy when you know how.”

There wasn’t much in the safe. Nessa was clearly disappointed, expecting gold bullion or wads of  £50 notes - just some papers and a plain brown envelope. She pulled everything out, finding a single key on the base at the back.

She placed everything on the kitchen table.

Gerry picked up the papers. One was the title deed for the house, and another was share certificate for his old company. He’d been paid off partly with shares.

The envelope looked promising, and he picked it up. He looked at Nessa.

“May I?”

She shrugged. “Look, if it’s dirty, I don’t want to know. If it isn’t, why not?”

Gerry opened the envelope and a small cassette fell out. There were papers, a signed agreement purporting to be a legitimate contract for services, signed by Eddie and Richard. The cassette was a Dictaphone cassette.

“Crafty bugger!” said Gerry.

“Why?”

“My guess is he taped the conversation with the man. This is definitely dirty, so, unless you want to see it, I’d leave it alone.”

“There’s a Dictaphone in Dad’s, .. the study,” she said, then blushed. “Sorry, force of habit. I always called him Dad around Simon.”

He nodded and followed her into the study.

She opened the top drawer of the desk and took out the small Dictaphone. She fiddled with it.

“No batteries, sorry.”

“No problem. I’ll go to the shops and get some. Where are the nearest shops?” he asked.

“The village shop is about four hundred yards away. Not far from the pub.”

He looked at his watch.

“It’s nearly one, can I buy you lunch?” he asked.

She smiled that smile, so that Gerry felt like a young man again.

“How lovely, that would be nice, thanks. Let me call Simon’s Headmaster and go powder my nose,” she said, leaving him alone in the study.

Nessa dialled the school number and was put through to Mr Carter.

“Vanessa, how are you?” he asked.

“Fine, look, I think Richard has sneaked into the country. Can you let Simon know?”

“Yes, of course. Is there a chance he’ll come here?”

“Every chance; and Simon will flip out. It’s imperative he doesn’t get to see him.”

“Have you called the police, there is an injunction still in force, isn’t there?”

“No, it ran out in September, and I didn’t bother reapplying. If he’s here illegally, he’ll have a false passport or something. I just need you to keep an eye out. How is Simon?”

“He’s improved immensely. I’m so pleased with his efforts. He had a hard time in rugger for a week, but seems back on form now. His kicking isn’t that good, but he runs like the wind, and did a very courageous tackle at the weekend. Even Mr Cross noticed a remarkable difference in attitude in his Geography set.”

Nessa grinned, and said, “That’s good. I’ll be taking him out this weekend, if that’s okay.”

“Fine, he’s playing for the Junior XV on Saturday, why don’t you come and watch?”

“Alright, I shall. Thanks.”

Nessa hung up and went down to join Gerry, who was still leafing through the documents from the envelope.

At his suggestion, she locked everything into the safe again.

A few minutes later, they entered the busy pub, the Lamb. It was one of the finest pubs around for decent food, and Gerry was pleasantly surprised at the quality and prices. A man who appreciated value for money, he enjoyed his meal, and especially enjoyed the pleasant company of a charmingly refreshing young woman.

He found it difficult to know how to treat her. One minute she appeared mature and sensible, and then she would display an almost childish degree of humour. Not the most outgoing of men, Gerry warmed to her company, and found himself telling her things about himself that he hadn’t even told his wife.

He was surprised at her appetite. For a slim and attractive woman, she ate very quickly and demolished a ploughman’s lunch as it she hadn’t eaten for a week. She also refused an alcoholic drink, which in his book was a positive feature in a woman.

“Wine goes straight to my head. I have to confess that after Richard buggered off, I drank rather too much, so I tend not to drink any booze at all these days.”

She sat in the pub, relaxed and cheerful. A few regulars recognised her and wondered whether the older man was the latest item in her life.

She observed their glances and leaned across the table.

“Don’t look now, but I think the locals are speculating whether we’re together, you know, as a couple,” she said in a whisper.

Gerry was embarrassed and a little flattered. Her delightful giggle disarmed him completely, as she seemed not to care what the locals thought.

They finished their meal, and popped into the shop on the way back. Gerry bough some AAA batteries and they walked back to the house.

“Has it been rough, the last year?” he asked her.

“Yes, pretty much. Money is so tight, I can’t pay the mortgage as Richard was supposed to, and hasn’t. I’ve had to get a job for every day living, and at least the sod paid up front for Simon’s school fees. It wouldn’t be the end of the world if he had to come out and go to the state school, but we still need to live. How about you, have you had no contact with your daughter?”

“Just the one email asking for money. Nothing else, not even a photo of the baby.”

“May I know what Susannah looks like?” she asked.

Gerry was surprised by the question, and then realised how natural it must be for a woman to see the person who stole her husband. He took out his wallet and showed her a dog-eared photograph.

“This was Susannah last year. She’d been working for the company that your husband worked for, and they’d been having an affair for some time.”

Nessa looked at the face of the woman who had stolen her father.

She was quite pretty, but was more voluptuous than sleek. A large bosom and a nice smile would weaken most men, Richard amongst them.

She handed the photograph back without a word. Gerry replaced it into his wallet.

“I’m sorry, Nessa, this must be so hard.”

Nessa smiled and nodded. “Harder than you will ever know,” she said, and opened the front door.

Despite her initial feeling that she didn’t want to hear the tape, she changed her mind and sat in as Gerry replayed it.

She didn’t understand much of it, but heard two voices, one was Richard’s and the other was a harsh East-End accent. Clearly, a large amount of cash was handed over and Richard agreed to buy property through his consultancy firm on behalf of the other man. Several times, he went to great pains to say the name Eddie McDonagh and ECM Holdings.

Right at the end, she heard Richard say, “So, in twelve months, you’ll pay me five hundred thousand for this?”

“That’s right, seems too fucking easy, don’t it?” said the other man.

Gerry switched the machine off.

“Can I keep the tape?” she asked.

His eyebrows shot up.

“Insurance,” she said. “McDonagh can have the documents, but I need to have something to hold against both of them. I’m not as green as I’m cabbage looking. My life is worth bugger all if these people play for millions. I don’t want much. I want what’s due me, and I want Richard to pay. I have no quarrel with Mr McDonagh, and wouldn’t want to make an enemy out of him. If he’s as rough as he sounds, then I just want to leave him alone.”

Gerry nodded and handed the tape over.

“Keep it safe. Richard will try anything to get it. I mean, anything, as he must be getting desperate to risk coming to the UK and try this.”

“You aren’t as respectable as you make out, are you Gerry?”

“I’m clean enough, but I confess, there are skeletons in my cupboard that I’d rather remained there.”

Nessa smiled, and touched his arm.

“I’m not into opening cupboards, so keep it shut, there’s a love.”

After he’d gone, taking the documents, she remembered the key. She’d left it in the safe, so she retrieved it and turned it over in her hand. It was an odd key, not like the standard door or padlock keys with which she was familiar. There was a number, B35, stamped on one side. She guessed it was a left luggage locker key, but from where?

She pulled out her purse from her handbag and slipped the key in with her loose change.
 

*          *          *
 
“Richard, long time no see!”

“Eddie, you’re a hard man to track down,” Richard said, as he approached the Rolls Royce parked in the underground car park. It had taken him the best part of a week to trace Eddie’s office. Despite trying every trick in the book, he failed to gain admission. So he resorted to waiting and watching.

He’d at last seen Eddie in the car on the previous day, but been too late to attempt to follow, so now he knew the car, he waited and watched. Patience was rewarded and he now faced his one time partner.

“I am when it comes to the old ways. I’m legit now, so I tend to be selective as to who I associate wiv.”

“I need my money, Eddie.”

“Your money?”

“We had an agreement, remember. I got five hundred grand, and you got the five million washed through my books.”

“I don’t recall any contract.”

“You do, Eddie. I have it safe.”

Eddie took out a brown envelope and took out a piece of paper.

“You mean this?”

Richard’s heart sank. He recognised the papers from his study. That meant that they’d already been to the house. He suddenly worried about Vanessa and Simon.

“You bastard, how did….?”

Eddie took out a cigarette lighter, and the contract was suddenly no more.

“Bastard!” he said.

“Sue me,” said Eddie with a smirk.

“I have more,” Richard said, instantly regretting it.

“Oh yeah, where?”

“Safe. Look, I helped you out, and you’re doing okay. Five hundred thou isn’t much in the scheme of things. I’ll give you everything, just get me the cash, please.”

Eddie said nothing; he just stared at Richard.

“It’s Thursday, come back in one week. I’ll have the cash, but I want whatever you’ve got, alright?”

Richard knew that was cutting it fine. That left him two days to get out on his plane ticket.

“Here?”

“No, South Woodford tube station, at noon. Alone.”

Richard nodded. He didn’t like it, but he had no choice.
 
 
Chapter 8
 
 
“Bugs, have you done that essay for history yet?” asked Kipper Blake. (So named for his smelly feet.)

Sy sat in the library enjoying reading a book he hadn’t read for ages. Life had been so hectic of late that he couldn’t remember the last book he’d read. He found it so pleasant having time to be completely selfish. It really was just like stepping off the world for a time.

“Yup,” said Sy, much to Kipper’s surprise.

“Let’s have a look?”

“Nope, do your own.”

“Go on, just a peek, to give me some ideas.”

Sy relented and Kipper made a few notes.

“Thanks,” said the boy and went back to his desk.

Sy looked out of the window. It had been very strange at first, but the speed at which life hurtled, gave him little time to dwell on the strange circumstances. Within moments of arriving, he found that Sy had many friends, and a plethora of weird and wonderful nicknames.

There was Kipper, Fudge, Splodge and Pecs. The last because the boy would wake up every morning wanting to know if his pectoral muscles had developed. He would spend ages with weights in the gym, but so far to little results.

Sy found out that his nickname was ‘Bugs’, it was a shortened version of Willybugs, a name that had been landed on his first week at the school. Mr Carter had insisted on shouting the name from the touchline, and it became stuck. Sy was a little miffed with Simon for not actually telling him everything he could have done. But then, he hadn’t really told Nessa all she needed to know either.

It took him several days to feel confident around so many boys. Having gone through an ‘episode’, and had to leave briefly, there was much speculation and curiosity about what had happened. Whereas girls would have flocked round asking questions, the boys just didn’t mention anything and life just carried on as if nothing happened.

A few close friends briefly asked questions like, “How’s things?” and “Everything okay?” but Sy realised they didn’t actually require an answer. Indeed, had he tried to share his inner feelings, the questioner would have run a mile.

He knew enough, having visited the dormitory when bringing Simon the first day, to know where his bed was, and he didn’t need to be a detective to find his place in the common room. Nessa had written down a list of subjects, the master’s names, and a map of the school, so he could find his way about. However, Kipper and the others were actually reluctant to let him out of their sights in case he did something stupid, he supposed.

After being in close proximity to large, well-developed young men in the changing rooms, and not actually feeling in any way specifically aroused, he realised that this might not be so hard after all. He was fascinated to see all the different shapes and sizes, and he felt it was a unique experience of which he otherwise would have never had the pleasure.

His first game of rugby was an utter nightmare. As Simon’s parent, he’d seen various games that had appeared totally without form, rules or direction. On the pitch, he found the major handicap to a long and healthy life was the possession of a certain leather ovoid, which everyone seemed determined to ensure ended up in his hands just as all the opposing players were within easy reach of him.

Remembering the advice to just run like the wind, he found it worked. Fear is an amazing incentive, and pain equally effective as a deterrent from being sluggish. Over the next few days, young Simon Williamson attained a reputation of being the fastest thing on two legs.

He tried kicking, and found it wasn’t his forte. However, on one occasion he was the only person left to stop a particularly large forward who had broken from a maul with the ball. Shutting his eyes, he’d launched himself at the boy’s thighs and slid down, keeping the legs tucked to his side to avoid stud damage all down his stomach. The lad had fallen like a giant Redwood and the ball had bounced free. The full back had collected the ball and kicked safely to touch.

As far as those watching were concerned, Sy’s next trick would be to walk on water. The forward’s name was Leonard ‘The Lurch’ Houseman, and not many people could recall him being tackled before.

“Oi Bugs?” hissed a voice, bringing Sy back to the present.

Simon looked up. It was Andy Phillips. Known as Filly, a name he hated. Andy was one of the more quiet and sensitive boys. Not the most popular, and certainly not one of the crowd, actually Sy found him intelligent and good company.

“What?”

“Have you got a part in the junior play?”

“No, why?”

“I have.”

“Oh, what?”

“I’m the vicar that gets murdered.”

Simon smiled. “Agatha Christie?” he asked.

“No his name’s Rupert Symes.”

“No, you pillock, is it an Agatha Christie play?”

“I dunno, it’s called Blood in the Vicarage. I think Mr Griffiths wrote it specially.”

“Ah, that explains it.”

Andy sat in the seat next to Sy.

“I’m a bit worried about it. Why did I get a part? Most of the others are in the fourth form.”

“Probably because you’re bright, you have a clear voice and you are the most mature person in the third form. You have to admit, the rest are pretty immature and silly.”

Andy blinked a couple of times, and stared at Simon to see if he was teasing. Shocked that he didn’t appear to be, he smiled self-consciously.

“I wish you could be in it too,” he said.

Simon glanced over and frowned. “Why?”

“Coz I’d feel better if I knew someone else in it.”

“Why me?”

Andy shrugged. “I suppose because you’re the only person who is nice to me and doesn’t tease me all the time,” he said.

Sy felt sorry for the other boy. He had not been particularly friendly to the lad, and he sensed that the real Simon hadn’t been either. However, he was flattered that the boy was able to speak freely to him.

“I wouldn’t mind, but I suppose all the parts are taken.”

“I think there are a couple left,” said Andy.

“Girls’ parts?”

Andy grinned. “Yeah.”

“How did I know that?”

“No one in the fourth form wanted them.”

“And?”

Andy went a bit red. “I said I might find someone who would do one of them,” he admitted.

“You sod, so all this flannel was to soften me up so I’d feel sorry for you and take a girl’s part in a bloody play?”

“No, I meant what I said. I just thought you’d be brilliant in it.”

“Why me? Do I look like a girl or something?”

“No, but you are slender and you look a bit like your mum. She is really pretty.”

That stopped Sy dead.

When he got his power of speech back, he asked, “When did you see my mother?”

“Last week when she brought you back. I thought she looked really beautiful and she’s got such a wonderful laugh.”

Sy was stunned.

“Why did your dad ever leave her?”

“I, .. I wish I knew,” Sy said, vaguely.

“Anyway, will you?”

“Will I what?”

“Do the play?”

“Oh, I suppose so, only if no one else will.” He was actually quite pleased. Having belonged to a dramatic club at University and always secretly dreamed of being an actor, Sy felt that it was an aspect of life he’d like to explore further.

Andy grinned. “Great, I’ll tell Mr Griffiths.”

Thus, when Sy attended his next English lesson, Mr Griffiths asked him to remain behind at the end.

“You’re coming along much better now, young man,” he said.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Your handwriting and prose are completely revamped. It’s almost as if you are a different person!”

“I think I was distracted, before, sir.”

“Probably. In any case, young Andrew Phillips tells me you wouldn’t be averse to taking on a role in the junior play?”

“I suppose not, sir.”

“He did tell you it was a female part?”

“Yes sir, he did.”

“Still interested?”

“If there’s no one else, yes sir.”

“Jolly good. If you come along after prep tonight, as all the parts filled, I’ll give you your copy of the play, and you can start learning your lines. I wrote it, did you know that?”

“Yes sir.”

“Oh, right, run along.”

Sy went to the first meeting of the Junior Play. It was due to be put on in the Easter Term, just before the Easter Holidays. The Senior Play was always put on at Christmas, and the summer term saw the Festival of Arts, with all the music, drams and other groups coming together in a concert and collection of works.

He was given the part of Julia Spence, the wayward daughter of Brigadier Spence, at whose house much of the play takes place. He was playing opposite Ian Jamieson, the amateur sleuth, with whom he was to have the main love interest.

Ian was fifteen, and therefore at the top end of the junior half of the school. He was captain of the Junior Colts, and a very talented rugby player. Tall, fair and already bulking out as the matured into a hefty young man, he seemed destined to become the type of boy to be made head boy and Captain of the first XV.

He came over to Sy after they had been given their copies of the play.

“I saw you play against Robsons yesterday, you did a bloody good tackle,” he said.

“Thanks,” said Sy.

“I’m glad you got the part, and not one of the other third formers.”

“Oh, why?”

“They really are very immature. If you want, we could learn our parts together in the library. How about tomorrow after prep?”

“Yeah, fine. Okay.”

“See you,” said Ian and left Sy feeling like a girl with her first date. He returned to his house with his mind in a bit of a spin. Suddenly, sex/gender roles reared its ugly head. He found it flattering that Ian was pleased he had the part and all the old instincts of Vanessa came to the fore. Ian was a hunky guy and although there was nothing the remotest sexual about Ian’s attitude and approach, Sy couldn’t help but hark back to is former life as a heterosexual female.

A slightly disturbed and confused Sy went to bed that night.

The next day brought no surprises. He managed to get through lessons without mishap and then at lunch, Andy sought him out.

“Thanks for taking the part. I never got a chance to speak to you last night. I saw Jamieson speaking to you. Was he all right?”

“Yeah, he seemed fine; we talked about rugger, why?”

“I think he doesn’t like third formers, he hasn’t even spoken to me yet,” Andy said.

“It’s like anything in this place; he’s risen above the third form and looks down on us all. If I didn’t play rugger, he wouldn’t talk to me.”

“Do you want to go through the play this evening?”

“I can’t, I’m already doing it with Ian,” Sy said, and felt himself blushing as he said it. Fortunately, Andy didn’t notice and he managed to change the subject.

The rest of the day seemed to creep past, and when he finally arrived at the library after prep, Sy was slightly breathless and felt his heart racing.

He told himself not to be stupid, managing to portray a cool, calm and collected young man by the time he walked in and found Ian in a leather armchair.

“Ah, I wondered if you’d forgotten,” Ian said.

“No, I just had to finish my French.”

“Okay, shall we just read through the whole thing first? When we come to out bits we’ll read them aloud.”

“Okay.”

They sat in adjoining chairs, initially reading silently to themselves. Then Ian broke the silence.

“I’ve come to my first bit. Can you read my mother’s part, just so I can get a feel for it?”

“Okay.”

Ian launched into his first speech and Sy read the other parts.

Then they came to Julia’s first section and Sy almost felt a physical change come over him. It was as if he became a young Vanessa, back at thirteen, pretending to be twenty something. His voice took on a new quality and he began to lose himself into the role.

They read the play through. Sy alternating parts and yet for Julia’s bits, he managed to find that certain different quality.

They did the final speech, just after unmasking the killer, sealing their love with a kiss before the final curtain.

“That wasn’t bad,” said Ian.

“It was okay. I’m sorry, I’m not used to playing a girl’s part.”

“You did well. Your voice was pretty convincing. At one point I forgot you were another boy.”

Sy blushed and felt embarrassed and pleased at the same time.

“Same time tomorrow?” asked Ian.

“Yeah, okay.”

Sy walked back to his house, confused and yet pleased with the way things were going. He knew that there was nothing sexual in this relationship, and yet underlying it there was something almost akin to an attraction. He was aware that he wasn’t to do anything that would jeopardise the original Simon’s life when they swapped back.

He read for a while, and then went up to the dormitory. He shared a dorm with three others, and found their childish banter rather a pain. But they all went to sleep quickly, and Sy lay awake with his thoughts.

Uppermost on his mind was the current situation. A few days ago, all he wanted to do was to return to his former life as a mother and thirty-something woman.

For the first time in a very long time, he woke up in the morning actually wanting to get up, and looking forward to everything the day would bring. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt like this, and it frightened him somewhat.

Had his life as Vanessa been as miserable as all that?

Had things got so bad that life became such a tiresome drudge?

Was this really what he had secretly wanted?

Would he be that sad if he could never go back?

As he mulled over the last question, he realised that whatever the answer, he could never even contemplate it for Simon’s sake. To lose twenty-two years was something he could never repay, and therefore, he determined never even to think about the possibility of remaining as Simon forever.

He went to sleep; conscious only that for the first time in many years, the person who had once been Vanessa Williamson was actually happy again.
 
 
Chapter 9
 
 
Nessa was trying out the BMW. The VW had gone back, thankfully without a scratch. The automatic was very different, so she had to almost tie her left foot back to stop treading on the brake by mistake whenever she felt she should be using a clutch.

She was now satisfied that she could manage the big and more powerful car and returned to the house. A strange blue Peugeot was in the drive, and at first she thought it might be one of Vanessa’s other friends. It wasn’t one of Roz’s cars. She parked the car, and was getting out when a familiar figure approached her. She froze.

It was Richard.

She almost didn’t recognise him, his hair was long and going grey, and his large beard hid most of his features. He was dressed in an old pair of faded jeans and a work coat. She had to remove the picture of a smart executive dressed in a suit, as had been her last recollection of him. Her heart was thumping, and she felt the anger rise in her chest.

“What do you want?” she said, the chill in her voice startled even her.

“How did he get it?” he asked.

“You mean the document? You are a callous bastard, Richard, what kind of shit have you dumped me in now? Don’t you realise, I could have been killed for what was in that sodding safe?” She went to walk past him, and he reached out and held her left arm.

Nessa suddenly broke, swung round and punched him very hard on the left cheek with her right fist, so hard that her hand hurt.

“Get your dirty, crooked hands off me, you bastard!” she yelled, running for the front door.

Richard, stunned by the blow, but even more surprised that Vanessa had it within her to strike him, was a little slow to react. However, she fumbled with the door key and although she managed to get in, he was able to get a foot in the door as she tried to close it.

“Vanessa, let me in, please! I need to talk.”

“Go away, you had your chance and you chose to fuck off. You have nothing here and I’ll call the police if you don’t!”

He was stronger than she was, so pushed his way in. She ran to the kitchen, grabbing the phone and a knife from the drawer. He stood by the kitchen door, eyeing the knife nervously. He watched her press the nine digit three times.

“Oh, don’t worry, I’ll fucking use it. So either you go away, or I’ll call the police now!”

“Tell me about the safe. What happened?”

“You never told me the number and they didn’t believe me. They threatened to rape me, you bastard, I only hope you get caught!”

“How did they get in?”

“To the house or the safe?”

“Both.”

“They rang the fucking bell, how do you think?”

“The safe then?”

“It wasn’t your birthday, my birthday, or your mother’s birthday, so it had to be Simon’s.”

Richard nodded. “They took everything?” he asked.

She nodded.

“Damn!” he said, and looked suddenly very old and tired. He slumped in the doorway, sliding down and sitting on the floor. Nessa didn’t move, her thumb hovering over the dial button on the phone.

“What’s it all about?” she asked.

“Don’t worry about it. You could have had fifty thousand quid, in your hand. But now the bastard has everything. I’m completely penniless, Vanessa. You can scream at me for money, but all I have is the roof over our heads. There isn’t anything left!”

“What about the mortgage and my allowance?” she asked.

He laughed, shortly and with little humour.

“Sue me!” he said, recalling Eddie saying the same thing to him.

He sat with his head in his hands, yet Nessa wasn’t giving an inch.

“How’s Simon?”

“Alive, no thanks to you,” she said.

“If it’s any good, I am sorry. I didn’t mean for you to get hurt.”

She snorted and said nothing.

“I suppose you’d not believe I had a breakdown?”

Nessa snorted again.

“As I look at what I’ve lost, I realise what a complete cock I’ve been. But she needs me, as does the baby.”

“And we didn’t?”

“You’re different. You’re so bloody in control and capable. Susannah is so vulnerable and would be lost without me.”

“Get out, Richard!”

“Can I just check the safe?”

“Why?”

“Just in case they left something.”

She nodded, allowing him to get up and walk into the hall, opening the cupboard.

He opened the safe and swore.

“Who opened it?”

“The bigger man. I just told him our birthdays.”

“How many were there?”

“Two, they were smartly dressed and sounded as if they came from London.”

Richard nodded.

“What was in there?”

“Our futures. Yours, Simon’s and mine. I had enough to get fifty grand apiece. That’d pay the mortgage and give Simon enough to see through university.”

Nessa almost smiled, knowing that he was supposed to be getting five hundred thousand. He was still cheating her, even when like this. How low could you get?

“Get out, Richard. I’m counting to five and then I shall call the police.”

He looked at her and, for the first time, took in how good she looked. Even in anger and fear, she was strikingly beautiful. Her eyes flashed and he suddenly felt denied emotions catch up with him. Overwhelmed by self-pity and regret, he started to weep.

She wasn’t moved.

“One, …two, ….three….”

He angrily turned, lurching out of the house, virtually running for the car. As he drove off down the drive, Nessa lowered the phone and knife. She let out a sigh of relief, looking at her hands.

She’d been dead calm all through the exchange, but now was shaking like a leaf.

She went back into the house, shutting and bolting the front door. She dialled Gerry’s mobile number. She recounted the incident, informing him that she implied that it was Eddie’s men who had come for the contents of the safe. He reminded her of the key.

“It’s probably a railway or airport left-luggage locker. Did he use any station or airport regularly?” he asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Only he knows where it fits, if you follow him, you might get lucky.”

“What now?”

“Why not? Before the trail goes cold.”

“But he’s got several minutes start!”

“Which way did he go?”

“Towards the M40.”

“Go, girl, you have to try.”

Minutes later, she was tearing off in pursuit, the BMW eating the miles as she shot up the road. She approached the turn off to the M40. Did she take it and head to London, or did she go straight on towards Thame?

Instinctively, she swung the big car right, down onto the motorway and eased into the outside lane. Pressing her foot down, the car responded and soon she was easily doing 120 mph. Keeping a beady eye out for Thames Valley’s finest, she kept going until she was hurtling up the canyon towards junction five. There, a hundred yards ahead in the centre lane, was a small blue Peugeot that looked familiar. She eased off the accelerator, and tucked in behind another car in the middle lane, matching speed with the Peugeot and keeping several cars between them.

As they hit the wider section, after junction three, she could see that the single occupant was Richard. Letting a couple more cars slip in between them, she was content to sit and follow. Prepared to follow him into London, he surprised her by indicating and leaving at junction two. She followed and was a little perturbed to have only one car between them.

He turned left and then right onto the A40, still heading towards London. She frowned, where was he going?”

Suddenly, he turned right, without indicating and after braking suddenly. At first she thought he’d become aware of her behind him, but then it dawned on her that he wasn’t that familiar with this route. Following him down a straight minor road, with forest on either side, she let him start to get a bit further ahead. A steep and bendy bit almost caught her out but she had seen his brake lights come on and saw the Peugeot out of the corner of her eye, as it headed left down another lane.

She smiled as she saw the name of it, - Long Bottom Lane. It was a name that appealed to a thirteen year-old’s sense of humour.

She stopped smiling when she came round a corner and saw a straight length of road ahead, but no sign of the car. She accelerated up the lane, glimpsing a sign for a railway station on the left. Braking hard, she shot past the turning and had to reverse back. She drove slowly up the lane and found herself at a small station. The Peugeot was already parked in a bay. She held back, watched Richard put money into the ticket machine and then enter the station.

She parked the car as far away from the Peugeot as she could and cautiously walked up to the station. She saw him standing on the nearer platform, so she waited out of sight. She saw it was Seer Green & Jordans Station, but didn’t even know which London station the trains went into.

A London-bound train approached and she watched as it came to a halt. Richard got on the front of two coaches; she dashed onto the second coach and sat at the back in a corner.

It was a good place to sit, as she could see all the passengers as they got off at the stations en route to London. She discovered she was on the Chiltern Line bound for Marylebone Station.

She got off the train at Marylebone and saw Richard’s tall frame ahead of her in the crowd. She had to pay at the gate, and noticed him heading for the left luggage office. She went into WH Smiths, and pretended to be looking at books as she watched. He came out looking cross, heading for the office sixty yards away.

Taking a chance, she dashed into the left luggage office. With the anti-terrorist measures, all left luggage was screened and supervised. She handed the key to the attendant.

“My husband has just been in. He’d mislaid his key, poor love. I found it, can I take what’s in the locker.

“Certainly madam. One minute.”

The man disappeared and returned with a small briefcase.

Thanking him, she paid cash and cautiously left, making a dash for the train.

She managed to leap on as it pulled out of the station. Glancing back, she could only imagine Richard’s anger and confusion as he found out she’d beaten him to it!
 

*          *          *
 
Richard was frustrated, no one had been in the Station Master’s office, and so he had returned to the left luggage office to see a different young man to the previous one.

Where’s the young man who was just here?” he asked.

“Lunch, sir.”

“Look, I was in a few minutes ago, and I explained that I’ve mislaid my key. Can you open a locker for me, I do know which one it was?”

“I’m sorry, sir, I’m not allowed to enter the lockers. I appreciate you say you’ve something of value, and yes, we do have cases of lost keys all the time, but only the supervisor can open lockers, and he’s at lunch as well.”

“When’s he due back?”

The young man looked at his watch.

“Twenty minutes, sir.”

Swearing didn’t help, but Richard had no alternative but to wait. Forty-eight minutes later, an overweight and sweaty individual appeared, smelling of beer.

Five minutes after that, having filled out a form, the locker was opened, and Richard experienced a sinking feeling. He’d been certain this had been the locker.

The younger man smiled with relief and observed the locker B 35, had recently been opened.

“Er, that was opened about fifty minutes ago, sir.”

“What?”

“Someone has taken the contents and paid within the last hour.”

“Who?” asked Richard.

“Dunno, I was at lunch.”

“When’s the other man back?”

This man looked at his watch and said, “Twenty minutes?”

Richard was almost screaming by this time and was terrified that Fast Eddie was now in possession of all the documents he’d been keeping as insurance.

It was with some surprise and alarm that it was Vanessa’s description that the young man gave when he finally returned after an hour. Who else would have been a tall, pretty woman with auburn hair and a sexy voice? Apart from that, she’d told the man she was his wife. Richard had no alternative but to wait for another train.

He went to a pay phone and tried calling Vanessa. The line was engaged. Cursing, he kept trying every five minutes until his train, but the number was permanently engaged.
 

*          *          *
 
Nessa put the phone down and waited. Half an hour later a car pulled onto the drive and she peered out. Seeing who it was, she used the remote switch that opened the garage, as agreed. The car drove in and she shut it behind them.

Two big men walked into the house.

“Mrs Williams? I’m Ted Harris; we spoke on the phone. This is my colleague Steve Jenkins.”

She shook their hands.

“The case is on the kitchen table. It’s still locked and I haven’t tried to open it.”

Ted nodded and took a pair of latex gloves from his pocket. She followed him into the Kitchen, and watched as he opened a small leather pouch. Ten minutes later, the case was open and the documents were being photographed.

Mr Jenkins was busy with another case and some strange electrical equipment.

“This is an audio harness, Mrs Williams. Wear it under your clothing, the microphone is very sensitive and will pick up any conversation within eight feet of you. The camera is in this brooch, put it to your outer clothing or coat, and it’s fine as it is. It doesn’t use wires, so there’s nothing to worry about. The operator can focus and direct the directional lens remotely; you just have to be facing roughly towards the target.”

Unselfconsciously, Nessa stripped down to her bra and let Mr Jenkins strap the harness to her torso. She then slipped her pullover back on and grinned as the brooch was attached just above her left breast. Both men glanced at each other. There were definitely perks to this job!

“It’s like James Bond,” she said, and both men smiled. The noise of a vehicle on the gravel drive caused Ted to go to the window.

Ted looked out and nodded.

“It’s them,” he said, and spoke into a small two-way radio.

Mr Jenkins was now attaching something to the inside of the phone. He then disappeared up stairs, and Ted replaced the case locked onto the table.

The phone rang. They both looked at it.

“Should I?” she asked.

“Go ahead.”

She answered it.

“What the hell are up to, Vanessa?” said Richard.

“Fifty thousand, Richard, is that all Simon and I were worth?”

“Bitch! You’ve sold me out.”

“No Richard, you sold yourself out when you buggered off. I want what’s mine.”

“No way. I’ll give you fifty and fifty for Simon.”

“Sod that. I want my allowance, the mortgage paid and enough cash for Simon’s education. Any more negotiating and I’ll go up.”

“You have to be joking, woman.”

“Ha ha ha, can you hear me laughing, Richard?”

“Where’s the case?”

“Safe.”

“You have it at home?”

“Might do.”

“Look, I need that case. Without it, you get nothing.”

“Richard, I already have nothing, so I’ve nothing to lose. Without it you have nothing and that is the whole point, isn’t it?”

“We both lose if I don’t get the case.”

“Tough.”

“Have you opened it?”

“Not yet. It’s locked.”

“Then don’t.”

“Why not?”

“Look, we’re dealing with dangerous people here. You don’t want to get mixed up with them.”

“I’m already mixed up. They didn’t find the key, but I did and followed you. If it’s worth all that to you, then why shouldn’t I do a deal with Mr McDonagh?”

Richard went quiet at the mention of Fast Eddie’s name.

“Eddie is dangerous, Vanessa, he could do serious harm.”

“What, like abandoning his wife and child, failing to pay for their home and leaving them almost destitute?”

“You’re not destitute!”

“I had to fight fucking hard to get what I did and still it’s not enough. Goodbye Richard!”

“No, wait! Look, let me deal with Eddie. Is he there?”

“Not yet.”

“Shit. Vanessa, he’ll think nothing of killing you and taking the documents.”

“So, he’s a bit more pleasant than you, then?”

“That’s not funny.”

“I’m not laughing.”

“Can I come round?” he asked.

“What’s the point, you’ve nothing to bargain with?”

“If we work together, we could both come away with a considerable sum.”

“Richard, this is dirty money, it’s probably been made through drug dealing and prostitution.”

“It’s money, Vanessa, nothing more, nothing less. Who the hell cares where it’s come from?”

“I do. Believe it or not, I’m not into breaking the law. You might have let the man plough his crooked money through your phoney firm to pretend he was respectable, but I’m sorry, Richard, I do have principles.”

“Stop being so fucking priggish! If you want to come out of this with the mortgage paid, and with enough money for Simon’s university fees, then you’ll do as I fucking tell you for once in your life, do you hear me?”

Richard was irate now and Nessa smiled as she simply hung up the phone.

It rang again a few seconds later and she let it ring.

Finally, Ted nodded and she answered.

“Look, Vanessa, I’m sorry. I’m at the end of my rope here, can I come round?” It was a very contrite Richard on the end of the phone.

“Where are you?” she asked.

“Close. I can be there in half an hour.”

She looked at the clock. It was five o’clock now.

“Ring me back in ten minutes and don’t come round. If you come early, I’ll call the police.”

She hung up before he could reply.

“Good, now we wait,” said Ted.

“What’s the plan?”

“We need to get everything we can on McDonagh before we even think about moving against him. He’s a powerful man with tendrils in every aspect of the underworld and even into high places. The evidence has to be absolutely rock solid before we act, and I want to make sure that you are completely in the clear, as will Mr McCallum be.”

“Superintendent?” said a black clad police officer, popping his head round the kitchen door.

“Yes?”

“Inspector Jenkins says everything is in place. Ready when you are, sir.”

“Excellent. Mrs Williamson, are you ready?”

“Absolutely.”

“Good girl. When he calls, ask him round and just get him talking. Find out every detail and then we’ll take over. Any questions?”

“Just one. Will he go to prison?”

“That’s up to the court. Probably, but if he cooperates he may get off with a suspended sentence. However, Mr McDonagh may be less forgiving and your ex-husband will be looking over his shoulder for the rest of his life!”

“Shame!” she said and smiled.

The Superintendent was very pleased she was one of the good guys.
 
 
Chapter 10
 
 
The headmaster sought out Simon. He found him in the library with young Ian Jamieson. Jacob was faintly surprised, but on finding them rehearsing their parts in the play, he found it most commendable that they were taking it so seriously.

“Simon. Can I have a minute, please?” he said.

In a quiet recess of the library, Jacob told Simon that his mother had called earlier and that she believed his father was in the country.

“Your mother believes he may try to see you before he goes back to New Zealand. How do you feel about that?”

Sy found his mind suddenly rushing. The pent up anger and hurt swelled up to the forefront again. It had been wonderful to push it to one side for a while. He thought about it.

“I never want to see him again!” he said and Jacob nodded.

“Fine. Try to stay with other boys or a member of staff until we get the all clear. If you see your father, then please call a member of staff and we’ll call the police.”

Sy nodded.

He went back to Ian.

“What’s up, seen a ghost?”

“My Dad has come back to Britain.”

“Shit, I thought he was gone for good.”

“So did we. It seems he’s short of money and is after getting some he’d stashed away.”

“Wicked, are the police after him?”

“Worse, my mother is,” he said and smiled.

“Your mum is way cool.”

Sy looked at the boy to see if he was teasing. He wasn’t.

“What makes you say that?”

“The other day, when you came back, we were out on lower pitch. I saw your car on the lane, man, she drives like a maniac.”

“Oh, yeah, she’s a bit loony behind the wheel.”

“What happened to the BMW?”

“Um, we were in a crash. Not Mum’s fault. A truck driver had a heart attack and Mum had to drive into the ditch to avoid being crushed. That was when we were airlifted to Hospital.”

“Really? Shit, that sounds awful; were either of you hurt?”

Sy smiled. “Not really,” he said, and realised it was the truth.

“So, if your Mum gets a hold of your dad, what will she do?”

Sy shrugged. “I really dread to think.”

The thought of what Nessa would do, really did fill him with dread, and yet he felt a degree of satisfaction knowing that Nessa wouldn’t hesitate, whereas he knew that he wasn’t as strong. He smiled as he realised that this strange state of affairs seemed to have reason after all.

“Do you want to stop?” Ian asked.

Simon looked at him. His mind cleared and he now realised that his wish had come true.

“No, I’m off the world, so let’s carry on.”

Ian frowned and shook his head. They started again, from the top.
 

*          *          *
 
Richard drove up the familiar drive with the lights off on his Peugeot. He stopped before hitting the gravel and switched off the engine. He didn’t trust Nessa one bit and he suspected she would do something bloody silly.

In an OP, a police officer was watching through a night sight.

“Single X-ray approaching on foot. Target is male, IC1, six to six two, well built, beard and longish hair, mid forties to mid fifties, he’s not carrying anything.”

“Copied, direction?”

“Towards the white aspect, X-ray is cautious, looks like he’s expecting a reception.”

“Roger. All units stay down. Wait, repeat wait.”

“X-ray stopped by garage. Attempting to lift door. Door not opening.”

“Roger.”

“X-ray moving round to Green aspect.”

“X-ray attempting entry to 1-2 on the green. Back door.”

“Copied, we see him. All units stand fast.”

“Entry not successful. X-ray moving to black aspect. Out of my view. Op One over.”

“Op Two here. Have X-ray. Looking through black 1,3. Kitchen window.”

“Roger.”

“X-ray now at black 1,4, patio doors. Access gained, repeat - access gained.”

“Roger. X-ray is in house. Stand by for the word.”

The sitting room lights going on suddenly dazzled Richard.

“I might have known you’d be early,” Nessa said, standing by the door.

“You should lock your door.”

“I knew you wouldn’t come in the front, so why risk a broken door?”

“No knife this time?”

She held up the phone.

“Just the phone. The nines are already to go.”

“You really hate me that much?”

“Hate is something far weaker than what I feel for you. I hate spinach, I hate really wet days and I hate it when cold ice cream hits my teeth. No Richard, I don’t hate you. I wouldn’t even know if there is a word to describe what I do feel. I think revulsion is the closest. It’s like looking at something that slithers out from under a rock and one suspects it might be toxic.”

“Well you won’t have to put up with me for much longer. Where’s the case?”

“In the kitchen,” she said, turning and walking out. He went after her and found her already in the kitchen. The case was on the worktop.

“Did you open it?”

“No.”

He nodded and produced a key. He fumbled with the left lock, but they were both open in a few seconds. He pulled back the lid and looked down with some relief.

“Thank Christ!” he said.

“I shouldn’t think he’s got anything to do with you,” she said.

“Huh?”

“Christ. Unless you are planning to confess all and give yourself up, I wouldn’t think he’s got much to do with your circumstances. The other bloke might though.”

“What are you talking about?”

“What’s it feel like to contemplate blackmailing a real nasty villain, Richard?”

“Don’t go there, Vanessa. This is nothing to do with you!”

“I mean, how deep are you in?”

“Deep enough,” he said, as he examined the documents.

“How much did you put through the books?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“I’m interested how deep the man I once loved managed to stoop.”

He laughed shortly. “Low enough. Over five million, if you must know.”

“For what, five hundred thousand?”

“Ten percent, that’s right.”

“Which he never paid you?”

“I never asked for it before this.”

“You never got a chance. So, who is Eddie McDonagh?”

“He’s an old style East End villain, Vanessa. A rough diamond who has killed and will kill again if given the provocation.” Richard was trying to scare his ex-wife now.

He closed the case.

“So, now what?” she asked.

“Now I get the cash. I’m to meet him next week, and he’ll give me what I’m owed.”

“You believe that?”

“Why shouldn’t he?”

“What about the tape?”

Richard looked at her.

“The tape?”

“You remember the tape, Richard dear?

“Where is it?”

“Safe. It’s my insurance.”

“What do you want?”

“What’s on the tape, Richard?”

“Haven’t you played it yet?”

“Not yet.”

“Then play it. I’m not playing this game any more.”

“It’s not a game. I just want what the judge said I should have. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“Look, I laundered five million quid of a gangster’s money, and you’re fucking me about for a measly mortgage payment and some school fees?”

He stared in disbelief at his ex-wife, and noted her eyes flick briefly over his left shoulder. He felt a fain draught on his neck and spun round.

“Richard Williamson. I am Superintendent Edward Harris attached to the serious fraud office. I am arresting you on suspicion of offences relating to false accounting and money laundering to the value of or in excess of five million pounds. You do not have to say anything, but if you do not mention when questioned something you later rely on in court, anything you do say will be given in evidence.”

Richard watched in stunned disbelief as uniformed and plain clothes officers appeared from virtually every part of the house. He stared at Vanessa as she took off her jumper and handed over a strange looking piece of apparatus.

“How could you?”

“Very easily, it’s called doing the right thing. But obviously you never heard of it.”

She walked straight past him and went up the stairs.

“Goodbye Richard. Enjoy prison,” she said as she turned out of sight.

“You get nothing, bitch!”

“I’m afraid that’s not quite correct, Mr Williamson. She gets a ten percent reward for any capital seized by the crown in a fraud investigation for which she was responsible for providing vital evidence. If we recover five million, then she gets five hundred thousand. If we seize twenty million, she gets two million.”

Suddenly Richard realised that doing the right thing could have been more sensible.

A uniform officer appeared from outside.

“I searched the car, sir. There’s a substantial amount of cash in this bag.”

“You see, Mr Williamson, there are advantages to cooperating with us,” said the Superintendent.

“You want me to help you nail McDonagh?” he asked, incredulously.

“Got it in one, sir.”

“You’re mad. He’ll kill me!”

“Perhaps, but then, for what you’ve done, you’re looking at eight to ten years. How old will Gail be in ten years? Who will she be calling Daddy?”

“You bastard!”

“Probably, sir, probably.”
 

*          *          *
 
Nessa watched the police remove Richard. They put him in the rear of a dark saloon car with his hands handcuffed behind his back. Another policeman drove away in his hire car. She felt a degree of satisfaction. He looked up at the window as they drove away. His face pinched, looking very old and tired.

Someone knocked on her bedroom door. It was open so she turned and saw the Superintendent.

“Thank you for what you did tonight. That took some doing,” he said.

“Not really. I’m just a bit worried what’ll happen now.”

“We’ll be leaving a team in place, just in case Mr McDonagh sees fit to send any of his men down to try to locate your husband.”

“Ex-husband, please.”

He smiled. “It won’t be for long. This time next week should see the conclusion of this little saga.”

“I hope so. It’s just another small drama in a sea of dramas in my life,” she said.

The policeman smiled and left her alone.

She picked up the phone and dialled Gerry.

“Richard’s been arrested.”

“The documents?”

“The police have them.”

“All of them?”

“Except the tape.”

“Hold onto that. Do nothing. The rest is up to your husband.”

“Ex-husband.”

“Whatever. Did they say how long he’d get?”

“Eight to ten if he doesn’t cooperate.”

“Ideal. Sit tight, we have to trust the police to do the rest. They’ve got a week to turn him.”

“Is McDonagh a threat?”

“Not to you. Richard might have a worry or two.”

“Will you be connected?”

“Not if I can help it.”

“So, what happens now?” Nessa asked.

“Now we wait.”

“Good, I have to go see my son play rugby tomorrow, would you like to come?”

Gerry smiled at the end of the phone. He really liked this woman and he chuckled.

“I’d love to. When and where?”

“Come by the house at one.”
 

*          *          *
 
Saturdays were always nice. There were no lessons after lunch, and most boys could go home after games. Sy was looking forward to going home again. It had been a couple of weeks and he found he was missing Nessa.

They selected him to play in the Junior XV against Kingsworthy School at home. After lunch, he met up with the others in the changing room, and they made their way out to the pitch. The opposing team bus had arrived and the team was changing. Sy saw a familiar BMW glide through the school gates and park next to the main block. He was pleased to see Nessa, looking very chic in s long black coat and high boots. She was wearing a black mock fur hat in the Russian style, and she waved at him. He ran over to her.

As he arrived he saw a strange man get out of the passenger seat. He was an older man, about sixty, grey hair and wearing a suit. He was putting on an overcoat as he arrived.

Nessa gave him a hug, and he felt genuinely pleased to see her.

“How’ve you been?” she asked.

He grinned, as he could tell she was slightly worried.

“Fine. I’ve got a part in the junior play.”

Her delicate eyebrows rose.

“Oh?”

“I’m playing a girl opposite Ian Jamieson,” he said, and burst out laughing at her expression.

“Are you winding me up?” she asked.

“No, I’m playing a girl called Julie Spence and we’ll be doing the play at the end of the Easter term.”

“Sod!” she said and he laughed.

The man came over.

“Simon, this is Gerry McCallum. He’s the father of the woman your father left us for. He has no love for my darling ex-husband either. We’ve become friends over the last few days, and after some excitement, I can tell you that the police arrested Richard last night.”

They walked towards the pitch and Nessa told him a brief outline of what happened.

The opposing team ran onto the pitch, so Sy had to go and warm up.

“He’s a fine lad, you must be very proud of him?”

Nessa smiled as she watched the boy join his team mates.

“More proud than you could ever know,” she said.

---

 
To Be Continued...