Read Breaking Faith, Free: Chapter 47

You’ve come so far with me and the end is close. Continue to enjoy the ride.

For those who haven’t been following the free read, I posted Chapter 1 on 13 January. Subsequent chapters have appeared each Friday, and will continue to be posted until all 50 have featured here. You can find those already posted via the archive; just search by chapter number. If you missed the start, you’ll find it here: http://stuartaken.blogspot.com/2012/01/read-free-my-novel-here.html

Read, enjoy, invite your friends along. As an author, I want people to read my writing, simple as that.

Chapter 47

Monday 20th September

A small, ancient tractor blocked the road as I drove to the village but the driver moved into the first passing place and waved me by. I recognized him at once. At the next passing place, I got out of the car and waited.

‘Coincidence, or have you been peeping?’

‘Faith, I’ve seen every bonny inch o’ you. I’d no peep like that. I’ve been down yon, checking the water for the beasts.’

‘Serendipity, then. I want to thank you, Hamilton, for your lovely gift. The drawings are beautiful. How did you find the time and opportunity?’

‘Just wee sketches. They didna teck long, and, och, ye were far away at times. I’m glad you like them.’

I studied him for a moment. ‘I wonder if you’d do me a real favour, in return for a small reward?’

He waited for my offer.

‘I know it’s tempting for a young man to tell his friends what’s happened and I don’t mind that. But would you keep it secret until I’ve gone? I don’t want hordes of young men coming to the croft in the hope of similar treatment. They won’t get it and I don’t want to cause disappointment, and my holiday would be ruined. Would you do that for me?’

‘I’d no gossip about what passed between us, Faith. That was private. Far too special and wonderful to be bragging. You read my note. You must know I love you. I’d no betray that for the passing glory tall tales might win.’

‘Not tall tales, Hamilton, the truth’s impressive enough. And you’re not really in love with me. It’s no more than infatuation and it’ll pass when you find the girl you want to marry.’

‘Tis no crush I’m feeling for ye, Faith, an’ the lass I’d wed is right before me. But I’ll no argue.’ He smiled shyly through the longing, and the blush came to his cheeks again. ‘I’ve no need of reward for being a gentleman, Faith. But I’d like to hear what you were offering.’

‘It’s still on offer. Come first thing on Saturday and sketch me for yourself, that’s all, if you wish. But you’ll have to be there in time to finish before nine o’clock when I’ll be off home.’

He looked at me with the hunger of lust that he called love. ‘I’ll take your gift, Faith. I’ll be there for eight, if that’s no too early?’

‘Weather permitting, I’ll be finishing my last swim by then. Until Saturday.’ I stretched to peck his cheek and drove into the village to post my letter to Leigh and collect fresh groceries for the coming week. But I decided against posting the letter. There was a postscript to add and I could put it in a box on one of the trips I intended to take now my retreat had become a holiday.

No one in the village looked at me any differently from my other visits and I knew Hamilton had been as good as his word. I was still no more than a mysterious wee Sassenach lassie visiting the island alone.

Back at the cottage, I took my dip in a sea that grew wilder by the minute. It soon became too dangerous to stay in the water. Within moments of my return to the cottage, as I towelled myself dry in front of the fire, the breakers began crashing on the shingle and tossing spray against the window so hard it was like a rain storm. Closing the door, I realized I was probably stuck indoors for the rest of the day. I would review and complete my letter to Leigh.

My dear, adorable, sexy, wonderful, magical, delicious, wicked Leigh,

I love you.

I’ll save the description of my holiday home for my return. In any case, I’ve taken loads of pictures in and around the cottage, some including me in a state I believe you’ll find pleasing. The sea is wonderful and the isolation perfect for my intentions.

First to my admission. I found a suitable young man to fulfil Dad’s wishes. He was a virgin, so no worry about disease and I’m on the pill, as Mum insisted, so no danger of pregnancy. We had sex eight times in the time I allowed. First time, he climaxed almost as soon as he entered me. He wasn’t a patch on you physically and I only reached anything like an orgasm on the couple of occasions I was on top. I sent him away after just one day and night and I’m back on my own now and missing you like mad.

It seems to me, Leigh, that your sexual adventures have left you with one impression about sex and love, whilst my inexperience has given me an entirely different view. Because I came to love first and only experienced simple sex afterwards, I’m sure I was bound to be disappointed by sex on its own. The physical enjoyment is nowhere near as great when there’s no love involved, it’s a bit like… well, actually, there’s nothing else like making love at all.

Making love with you is the most wonderful experience I’ve ever had. I can fully understand the compulsive, even obsessive nature of such lovemaking. Sex, on the other hand, whilst a pleasant enough diversion, is so far below the experience of love making that it pales into insignificance. With you, I felt alive in every cell of my being, I felt passion and elation, ecstasy and such delight and joy as I never thought possible. You brought me an awareness of myself as a woman that I had not known. You loved me so thoroughly and completely that no other man can ever come near to bringing me the same sensation. I always thought lust was dreadful, but when it’s mixed with love, it’s extraordinary. I certainly lust for you. I want you just thinking about you. Just writing your name makes me ready to take you inside me. But it’s more than that: somehow, in a way I can describe only partly, my soul bonded with yours when we made love. Our spirits combined so we became one and there were no boundaries between our essences, no barriers to our sensations and emotions.

With Hamilton, I felt some pleasurable physical sensations, especially once I’d led him to my clitoris (horrible, ugly word for such a lovely part of my body). But, not only was he unable to bring me to a climax until I took the lead, I felt no soaring of my spirit, no joining of souls, no harmony of bodies as I did with you, Leigh.

No, there’s no comparison between making love and having sex. I ache to be with you again, to have you deep inside me, to have your hands and mouth on my breasts, our lips and tongues together, our limbs entwined, our bodies made as one. I yearn for you to take me to that space where time ceases to exist and there’s nothing but us in the world and we two are one. I yearn just to be with you. To have you in my sight and hearing. To know you are but a step away.

But I promised us a fortnight to understand ourselves and although I’ve no need of further self discovery, I don’t know how you’re doing with your test. So, I’ll stick with our original agreement, hard as it is. In any case, if I return now, I’ll probably have to get involved in Heacham’s trial and I’d rather avoid that for the moment.

I know I made conditions about our togetherness, Leigh, and I understand those will be difficult for you to keep. But I can’t share you. I really can’t. I’ll give my whole self to you on my return, without reservation and for the rest of time. I had to have my experience with Hamilton; I could not have gone through life knowing I’d failed Dad in that way. And it had to be now, because when I return I intend to be yours alone, for the rest of my life. I need you to have the same sort of commitment and I hope to find Netta gone and you celibate until I come home to you.

If you can’t manage this, I need to know at once. It may sound foolish, but I couldn’t bear to see you now if you can’t agree to what I ask. Please, let me have a sign that you agree: if you don’t want me on my terms, please put my things outside the door of Longhouse so I’m not forced to come inside and face your rejection. I can collect my things and leave without seeing you again and go away to make a new life for myself.

If that’s what you decide, I’ll always be alone, since no one else will be to me what you are, Leigh. I shall not die but my life will be diminished and incomplete. I don’t tell you this to make you feel bad but to make you understand what you mean to me. Without you, I am but a shadow. With you, I can win the world.

I love you, Leighton Longshaw and I want to spend my life with you. I want to marry you and have your children. I want to lie each night with you in our bed and know that I may share your love forever as you will share mine.

Until Saturday, my darling love. Be there for me.

Always, your adoring Faith.

I re-read the letter and decided not to alter it again. It was my fifth attempt and I could think of no improvements to it. But I wanted to be honest with Leigh and I felt I should let him know about my bargain with Hamilton and my reason for it. My postscript was brief and to the point.

The rain continued for the rest of that day and I added one more line to the letter, telling Leigh I’d been nude whilst writing, knowing he’d gain pleasure from picturing me that way. I reflected on that thought and realized it came from love. Both Mum and Dad had said that love was giving the loved one what they wanted and that was what I was doing for Leigh and it felt good and right.

The rest of my time on the island, I was a tourist. I visited the sites my map highlighted and saw a castle that had been occupied continuously for six centuries. Its dank, small dungeon haunted me for ages with its single stone to seal the entry hole above and cut out all the light, and the irons on the cold stone floor to hold the prisoner in chains in a space too small for anyone to lie down.

I saw seals basking on the rocks and got soaked by breakers in the small boat I sailed in with half a dozen other tourists. I watched golden eagles soar above the mountains and sat in total silence by the shores of isolated lochs with sunlight shattering their mirror surfaces into a million bright shards. I even visited the island distillery where I tried their twenty-five-year-old single malt. Talisker tasted like liquid gold and I bought a case for Leigh.

Everywhere I went, I took photographs. The light was wondrous, the skies alive, the seas so changeable, the hills and mountains grand and magnificently indifferent in their beauty. I felt insignificant in that landscape, irrelevant to its beauty. I was there, amongst mountains of red and black ancient as time itself, and falling, living water and the shimmering lochs, but my presence made no difference; the rocks and hills were oblivious of me. I was of less matter than an ant, a falling leaf, a whisper of sound on the breeze. Wind and water and sun and the gentle ticking of the universe were all that mattered here, to sculpt and form the land into shapes anew over eons of time. I was not even a blink of the eye.

My week ended and the weather was kind enough to let me take my final swim. Hamilton was waiting as I strolled back to the cottage. I asked him where he wanted me and how and he drew his pictures and departed sadly after pleading only with his eyes.

‘I’ll no forget you, lassie, not if I live to be a hundred.’

I hoped that wasn’t true, but I could do nothing to prevent it.

The journey home was more tedious than the drive north had been and I was weary as I entered the area I knew. But, approaching Longhouse, knowing Leigh would welcome me with open arms and whisk me to his bedroom, I felt my tiredness drop away to be replaced by the elation of promise.

###

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Read Breaking Faith, Free: Chapter 46

The Buttertubs (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

You’ve come so far with me, now we’re approaching the climax. Continue to enjoy the ride.

For those who haven’t been following the free read, I posted Chapter 1 on 13 January. Subsequent chapters have appeared each Friday, and will continue to be posted until all 50 have featured here. You can find those already posted via the archive; just search by chapter number. If you missed the start, you’ll find it here: http://stuartaken.blogspot.com/2012/01/read-free-my-novel-here.html

Read, enjoy, invite your friends along. As an author, I want people to read my writing, simple as that.

Chapter 46

The police said the mountain rescue teams would be out at first light, assuming she hadn’t returned. Once I’d confirmed with an anxious Matilda that Netta hadn’t somehow made her way home, I persuaded her to stay put in case she did arrive there. Ma insisted I ate, and prepared a quick meal for me. She glowered as I prepared to set off with a torch and my backpack stuffed with warm dry clothes from Netta’s case, and a couple of flasks of hot coffee generously laced with brandy.

‘You’re wasting your time, Leigh; you’ve no idea where she’s gone. And it’s dangerous out there in this lot.’

‘No, Ma. I have some idea. She told me once, when she was trying to taunt me, that she has a favourite place for sunbathing. She laughed and lifted her shirt. “Lovely Seat.” You know it; top of the pass leading down to Buttertubs. Three, four miles as the crow flies.’

‘I can just see that ‘un flaunting hersen up there, knowing full well there’d be tourists within sight, teasing them with her body. Little hussy.’

‘It’ll not be easy, walking and searching in this lot in the dark. Don’t wait up for me, Ma. I’ve no idea when I’ll be back. But leave the door unlocked in case she’s somewhere else. She won’t have her key.’

‘Serve the little madam right to be kept out all night.’

‘Mebbie. But I’d not do that to her, Ma. She’s done a great deal for me.’

‘Done a great deal to you, more like. Done a lot of damage; I know that.’

I was in no mood to argue. I’d started the morning with two beautiful young women available and wanting me. The most important had abandoned me out of some incomprehensible need to find herself, whatever that meant. The other had run off, pretending anger and hurt, into the hills. Faith was safe, as far as I knew. But Netta might very well be in danger. She was bound to be cold and wet. I must, at least, attempt to find her and bring her back into the warmth and shelter of my home. Even if I did intend to throw her out once there.

Crossing the river on stepping-stones, at night, even with the aid of a torch, was no fun. The rain had swollen the river and a slip could well have put me into real danger. It was slow going to reach the far side where I began the laborious trek across the fields by the side of the river and up the fells.

She was unlikely to have remained on top of the hill, where the viewpoint gave panoramic vistas of the surrounding fells and dales. In this storm, it would be exposed and very dangerous. But it seemed likely that, had she made for her special place that morning, she might have fallen on her way back and hurt herself. If I found her, it was most likely to be somewhere near the path, en route.

I was sparing with the torch at first, though I had fresh batteries with me. Occasionally, I called her name into the pouring rain and the blackness.

‘Netta!’

Nothing replied but wind and rain. From time to time, a rumble or a crack of thunder drowned the sound of rain, followed by sheets or jagged forks of lightening.

It was a difficult, tiring journey to the top of that fell, with many stops to search pockets of darkness on the way. And there had been no sign of her near the path, none as I reached the soft, round summit at last. It looked as though she’d chosen some other secret location to sulk for the day.

I decided to do a quick search around the top of the hill and then return to Longhouse until daylight gave me a better chance of finding her. Disappointment at the futility of my search vied with growing conviction that she was already back at Longhouse, laughing at my concern and waiting impatiently for my return.

As I swept the area with the powerful beam of the torch, thunder crashed overhead and lightening crackled out of the sky and along the length of barbed wire fence a short distance away.

‘Jesus wept!’

The narrowness of my escape paralysed me for a moment. My first thought was to run like the devil from the isolation of the exposed hill. But, in the bright brief light, I’d seen something white, flapping wetly in the wind. It was some two hundred yards away along the fence and I couldn’t leave without trekking across the boggy ground to find out what it was. Even though it would most probably turn out to be nothing more sinister than an abandoned fertiliser sack left behind by a careless farmer.

I walked into another fence, catching myself on the sharp barbs, as the strands of wire on their waist high posts joined the more substantial barrier that constituted the parish boundary.

‘Bugger!’ I sucked at the cut on the back of my hand and tasted blood.

Following the beam of my torch along the wire, I picked up the patch of white that had caught my eye. From this close, it was clearly an item of clothing. I struggled over the lower, less substantial field boundary without further injury, and reached the spot, wondering why Netta would bother to make such an effort.

I knew at once it was her summer dress. Not just a portion of it, torn off as she climbed the fence, but the whole garment caught on the barbs as, presumably, she’d climbed the barrier and jumped down the other side. The weight of her body must have attached the barbs so firmly she’d been unable to free it without first slipping out of it. But why had she left it here?

When I began to untangle it, I found it relatively easy to disengage from the wire. It was caught only lightly on a couple of barbs, for all the world as if it had been tossed there in careless abandon.

‘Netta!’

I stopped to consider; rain soaking my hands and face. Why had she been going away from Longhouse? It was hard to believe she would still have been so upset by that time. Her sulk was no more than an attempt to make me feel guilty; there was nothing genuine about it. She’d always come back once she’d made her point in the past. Returned hungry for food and sex, ready for the fun of reconciliation. There was no need for her to behave any differently this time, unless she felt more than straightforward lust for me and saw Faith as a threat.

‘Netta!’

I pointed the torch through the fence and searched the ground beyond, but could see no sign of her. When I aimed the beam closer to the fence, I discovered one of her sandals lying abandoned and half covered by black peaty water in the mud beyond the fence.

This made no sense. Why would she abandon her dress? And why leave her shoe? What possible reason…? Unless she was being pursued. Try as I might, I could think of no other set of circumstances that would cause her to act that way. Someone must have chased her.

I struggled over the fence and discovered how easily she would’ve caught the dress as she jumped down. I almost hung up on my backpack, even though I was in no hurry and forewarned of the danger. My landing sank me ankle deep in the black muddy water where her shoe lay. I bent and retrieved it, placed it inside the dress I’d tied loosely to the strap of the pack.

Carefully, I walked forward, scanning the ground ahead with the beam of the torch. Another peal of thunder startled me with its proximity and the accompanying flash of lightening scared the pants off me for a second time. I sat down heavily in the soggy grass and cursed as the wetness soaked into the seat of my trousers. For a while, I stayed put, though; unsure what to do or where to go.

‘Netta!’

I rose again and scanned the ground ahead, all too quickly discovering her second shoe lying upside down a short distance ahead. At least I seemed to be moving in the right direction. I slowly continued in what I hoped was something like a straight line as the ground began to fall steadily away from me before it rose for a few paces and then fell away again more steeply. Soon I was in danger of losing my footing, as the slope grew ever more precipitous.

I stopped and tried to picture my whereabouts in my mind’s eye. I knew the area well and was aware of dangerous scars and steep slopes on certain parts of the hill. My torch shone into blank darkness when I pointed it more than ten or twelve feet ahead. It was simply too dangerous to go on in this manner. If I continued, I may well end up lying at the foot of a scar, as perhaps, Netta had in her flight from whoever had pursued her.

‘Netta!’

I checked the time. It was well after dark, around eleven o’clock, when I’d set off. Since then, I’d covered a few miles at snail’s pace due to the nature of my search along the way. But I was staggered to discover it was approaching half past four in the morning. The sun would rise in less than two hours. I could do nothing more until it brought its light to guide me.

Sweeping a full circle, I noticed a small rocky outcrop a short distance to my right and higher up. I made for it, falling knee deep into a cold black puddle on the way. At length, I reached the rocks and sat there, wet, chilled, weary and now desperately anxious about Netta.

‘Netta!’

I did a quick search of the backpack and took out a flask of coffee. Its heat and spirits revived me a little. The storm moved away to the southeast. Two more cups of coffee and I was dangerously close to setting off down the hill again. But I recovered my senses when I noted the shapes of hills emerging as pitch black silhouettes against a sky that was now merely inky and studded with stars in the east. The steepness of the slopes dissuaded me from setting off again.

Slowly the clouds moved away until the whole sky above was clear and stars replaced the blank darkness. The moon, a pale sliver of crescent waning toward the new phase, was no help at all and I sat awaiting the glow of sunrise that would shortly illuminate the sky in the northeast.

I was shivering when the first signs of sunrise gave the ground vague shape and contour at last. But I remained seated until I could see enough to move safely. There was little point in me falling to my death or serious injury in my search.

As I moved and retraced my steps to the point I’d ended my hunt in the darkness, I struggled to find new reasons why she’d abandoned her clothes. Perhaps she was just being more of an exhibitionist than usual, perhaps the storm had brought out the pagan in her and she’d given in to primeval urges to run, a free spirit in the rain. But, knowing her terror of thunder, I knew I was clutching at straws. Perhaps her dress had caught up as she sought a more comfortable spot to sunbathe before the clouds had descended and she just couldn’t be bothered to retrieve it there and then, thinking she would reclaim it on her way back from wherever she’d decided to go. Her love of the freedom of nudity certainly fitted that fantasy.

‘Netta!’

As I made my way slowly down the slope I discovered that fifty or sixty yards further on I would have fallen down a steep scree slope onto the road. In the growing light, I managed to slither and slide down to the tarmac in one piece, stepping onto the highway as the disc of the sun broke the horizon.

I stood and pondered. She’d apparently been heading in a specific direction. Would she have continued the same way on the road or would she have turned and headed the other way, knowing she would eventually come to Simonstone and the hope of help? I shrugged. If she’d chosen the hamlet, in all probability she was safe and snug in some lucky farmer’s bed, probably with the farmer. The other way, the road clung to the side of the steep valley, passing through the Buttertubs; strange pots that were sunk into the ground, like limestone wells: vertical caves in all but name. Further along, the road dropped down a steep hill to pass through the villages of Thwaite and Muker. It was that route I followed.

I decided to go as far as the Buttertubs themselves, search the area and then return home. I could go on forever and never find her on my own and I was already weary, cold and hungry. The professionals would be out soon with their numbers and knowledge to make the search more productive. Unless she had somehow returned to Longhouse and Ma had called off the search.

The road made walking easy and I covered the distance to the tourist spot in minutes. During that time, the sky faded from indigo through azure to iris with a hint of rose around the now full orb of the sun. It was light enough to read and colour was returning to oust the black and greys of predawn.

The holes in the ground, varying from two to ten feet in diameter and from six to fifty feet in depth, spread across a small area of the saddle shaped hillside. The fell sloped down to this area quite steeply and the road ran through the middle. At the valley side of the road a small lay-by marked a place for tourists to park their cars before the ground began to slope again. It ran down towards the valley slope, which was precipitous and dropped into a deep, narrow, serpentine canyon too close to vertical even for sheep to crop.

I moved to the side next the valley first. Here, the holes were less spectacular and fewer.

‘Netta!’

The light was clear enough now to reveal the bottom of each pit as I approached, and each was empty as I expected. My search had no conviction but was simply something I must do whilst in that place with its vaguely sinister feel.

I crossed the road, aware it was an unnecessary exercise, a completion of my futile quest. I would return home, as soon as I was done, and find Netta asleep in my bed.

Would I join her? Would the tide of elation at finding her safe, overcome my sense that I was no longer a free agent but must remain true to Faith? And who imposed this condition? Faith had made it clear she expected my fidelity if she was to be mine. But recalling so easily our single night, such a short time past, when we’d made love, I knew it was nothing to do with conditions and everything to do with what was right. I wanted to be faithful to her. I wanted to be hers and hers alone. No, if Netta were in my bed, she would remain there alone until I roused her to take her home to Matilda.

‘Netta!’

Slight irritation returned to me as I walked the ground, searching. Netta’s childish sulks had caused me grief in the past. It was absurd that I should have to be out here hunting for her when she’d had no need to run off in the first place. It would serve her right if she had been in some sort of trouble. Perhaps, then she might think twice before pulling such a stunt again. Though, on reflection, that was unlikely to present a problem for me any more.

‘Netta!’

I started with the pit nearest the road. They were wider on this side and significantly deeper. Tourists had made paths through the grass with their passage and I followed one to the edge of the nearest sinkhole. As I swayed at the top of the opening, my fear of heights made me step away from the brink. The dark bottom of the pit was wet with the rain but was otherwise as it had been for centuries. I moved to the next and the next and found them devoid of all but damp and early morning darkness.

The last pit was the deepest. Furthest from the road, it bored into the ground close under the slope of the fell. A small rowan struggled to grow at the lip of the gaping mouth, leaning over the hole and lending the scene a touch of lightness to dispel the sinister aspect of the pit. I moved towards it, knowing I would end of my search here and then return to Longhouse, still uncertain of Netta’s fate but content I’d tried to find her. She would be lying warm, dry and eager in my bed, ready to demonstrate her sexual prowess, mistakenly determined to show me Faith’s simple love was no match for her own experience and skill.

I stopped for a moment, listening to the silence of the hills. A soft breeze soughed through the grass, a sheep bleated wetly somewhere out of sight, and closer, the sound of trickling water, falling, caught my ear. I shrugged myself back into action and approached the edge of that dark pit quite certain it was empty like the rest. On the brink, I hesitated; it was deep and foreboding, a threat to my fear of high places. The sound of falling water was rain run-off trickling in a small fall over the edge near the tree. I leant forward and followed the falling water to the bottom.

She was on her back; her arms flung out and above her head. One leg was almost straight, the other bent at hip and knee. Her skin was pallid, almost without contour in that dim reflected light, uniform but for the stark contrast of her dark nipples and the smudge of short hair. I looked at her face and had to kneel to stop myself falling. Her eyes stared up past me to the sky they reflected.

I called her name, softly now she was in hearing. I upbraided her for running off like that, asked her why she hadn’t retrieved her dress, why she’d left her shoes.

‘I’m sorry. I came as soon as I could. You were so hard to find. I’ll go for help and we’ll get you out of there. There’ll be rugged men with ropes to lift you. You’ll enjoy that; all the attention, the way they’ll look at you with admiration and desire. We’ll warm you up with soup and blankets. I’ll make them jealous; cuddle you beneath the blankets for warmth.’

I heard sounds of other people. The mountain rescue team had found the place I’d described to Ma and were searching in vain.

‘I’ll call them in a minute. I just want a little time with you alone. You don’t mind, do you? Not too cold? Only, you look so beautiful, so very beautiful.’

I think it was the thought of the sweet beauty gone and wasted that dragged me back from that temporary madness. I found my feet and stood and waved to the professional rescuers, yelling until they noticed me at last.

They brought ropes and the other paraphernalia of climbers; contacted the police on their special radiotelephones.

‘It’s obvious she’s dead, so we’ve not to move the lass until they give the word. Jack, Monty and Jim, if you’ll hang on with me so we can lift her when they’re ready? Rest of you might as well go home. Thanks for the effort, lads.’

A beautiful young woman lying naked at the bottom of an isolated pit was too good to miss. They must lean over and look at her with eyes that saw her naked skin, her woman’s body but forgot she was a person.

The rescuers had food and brought me warmth with insulated blankets. I told them what I’d discovered, how I’d spent the night. One or two seemed ashamed they’d waited for the light, but castigated me for taking risks that might have meant another body to retrieve.

The policemen had to come from urban distance, so the sun was warm, the ground drying by the time they arrived. They were all questions and procedures. I should have left her clothes where I’d found them. I would have to take them to the exact location I’d found each item, though there would be precious little use in the tracks after I and the rescue team had pounded the ground. Where was her underwear? I explained and they looked at me with cynical curiosity and I became a suspect.

It was after noon when they brought her up. The pathologist went down to her first to read the signs and pronounce her dead of blood loss from a fractured skull, possibly caused by her fall, if fall it was. Her wrists had been bound at some time and she bore signs of possible sexual assault but the lab would prove or disprove that.

The policemen took me home as the van arrived to take Netta’s body to be sliced open and examined, her lovely skin ripped apart to expose the gore within. I had identified her body for them.

Ma was her wonderful usual self and dispensed coffee and biscuits for the investigating officers and roundly told them they were idiots if they believed for one second I had anything to do with it. They defended their suspicions until Ma told them the truth of things and I was grudgingly reclassified as victim and given the appropriate sympathy. They decided they wouldn’t, at that stage, take me in for further questioning.

Once I’d agreed to keep them informed of my movements and they had left, Ma slipped something from her medicine chest into a cup of tea and I slept for hours without dreams.

Matilda was downstairs, demanding explanations, accusing me of complicity in Netta’s death as soon as I returned to the sitting room. I told her everything I knew. She was beside herself; had spent a sleepless night at home at my suggestion when she should have been out searching with me. Now she wanted reasons for her daughter’s death that would exonerate her from all blame and I was the obvious scapegoat. Faith, who shared the blame for Netta’s outburst, was her other daughter and therefore not responsible, being just another victim of my lust.

‘I want Faith home. She’d want to be here. Bring her back, even if you have to drive to Scotland for her.’

It gave me something positive to do.

‘In any case, Leigh, we’ve got to try to get her back for Heacham’s trial.’

‘I know, Ma. I’ll go and see the travel agent.’

‘Fuck Heacham and his trial. I want Faith home. I want to know she’s safe at least. I want my daughter with me.’

The travel agent told me only that she hadn’t redeemed my vouchers, as they couldn’t provide what she wanted. They had no idea where she’d gone.

As I left the shop, I ran into the local bobby who seemed glad to see me.

‘They’ll tell you by letter, sooner or later, Leigh. Or, rather, they’ll tell Faith. But let the lass know she’ll not need to attend court after all. Heacham’s hanged hissen. Poor Jenny found the bugger first thing this morning when she delivered his foreign porno magazine. Saw him through the window. Stark bloody naked, he was. Looked like he’d tried to cut his prick off. ‘Ell of a mess. Bloody good riddance. Save us all a lot of time and effort.’

He expressed his condolences over Netta but thought there would be no need for me to answer any further questions now they’d discovered Heacham. That should have set my mind at rest but something at the back of my mind kept me unsettled.

I found Matilda’s anger dissolved in belated tears on my return. I comforted her as best I could, her weeping on my shoulder adding to my personal distress, especially as there was no way for me to contact Faith and bring her home for both of us.

Ma tried to force me back to business so I wouldn’t brood, but I just cancelled and postponed and explained that orders would be delayed until I could find time for them. I had no heart for work.

All I could see was the look of accusation on Netta’s face when she discovered me in Faith’s bed. All I could hear was her hurt abuse as I watched her go for the last time. If I’d followed, if I’d told her I was sorry and would make it up, if I hadn’t been so tied up with Faith, that beautiful young woman would still be alive. For all that someone else had chased her on that hillside, it was my fault she was dead.

###

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Read Breaking Faith, Free: Chapter 45

You’ve come this far, and you’re looking forward to the climax now. Continue to enjoy the ride.

For those who haven’t been following the free read, I posted Chapter 1 on 13 January. Subsequent chapters have appeared each Friday, and will continue to be posted until all 50 have featured here. You can find those already posted via the archive; just search by chapter number. If you missed the start, you’ll find it here: http://stuartaken.blogspot.com/2012/01/read-free-my-novel-here.html

Read, enjoy, invite your friends along. As an author, I want people to read my writing, simple as that.

Chapter 45

The drive to the island was hot, long and tiresome. I made a mental note to have a car radio fitted as soon as I returned to Longhouse. Just beyond Glasgow, I stopped at a wayside café for a break and discovered I hadn’t replaced my knickers after that last pleasuring of Leigh. I smiled at the state of mind that had allowed such forgetfulness. For the rest of the journey, I found my mind filled with ideas about the way I’d altered over the months with Leigh and how making love with him had changed me so absolutely with regard to modesty, both false and real.

I arrived at the ferry station just in time and was grateful for the chance to spend a short spell out of the driving seat, letting the sea air blow through my hair and clothes. Though driving on and off the boat was an experience I hadn’t prepared for.

Once at the other side of the narrow straits, I had another twenty or so miles to drive before I reached the meeting place. We’d agreed on the village post office as our rendezvous since there was a small café there where one could wait if the other was delayed. As it turned out, we arrived within minutes of each other. I wondered if she’d been looking out for me.

Mrs McAlastair was a big boned woman with little flesh on her skeleton and she had a most unattractive face for a woman. But she smiled brightly when I introduced myself and offered her cash for the price we’d agreed.

‘Och, best see the bothy first, lassie. You’ll no be wantin’ to pay if you’ll no be wantin’ to stay. Will you be wanting bread and milk from the store afore you go?’

I spent a few minutes adding fresh food to my stockpile in the car.

‘Follow me.’

She drove a Landrover, which looked as though it might have been one of the first made. Great clouds of charcoal smoke billowed from the exhaust as she started it, but it ran cleanly after that.

I followed her for three miles along a tarmac road with a pecked white line down the middle and passed no other vehicle. We turned off at a three-way junction onto a single-track road with occasional passing places, which we never needed to use. Another four miles and we turned onto a stony track that crossed open fields with mountains frowning down at us. I was anxious about my Mini’s suspension but there were few potholes and I managed to miss those there were.

At last, we arrived at a gate and Mrs McAlastair got out and let me through, her own car staying the other side. As I drove past her, I got my first view of the croft and stopped the car at her signal.

‘I’ll not drive down there, lassie, and I’d advise you leave your wee car up here. I’ll help take your things down and show you where everything is.’

It was perfectly situated. The small whitewashed cottage lay at the foot of the steep track, hills on all three landward sides, rising to mountains on two. Beyond the cottage itself, a stretch of grass, dotted with windswept mountain ash, led to a shingle strip and a bar of brilliant white sand that plunged into the deep azure of the ocean. The water stretched to the horizon where a small island broke the line between sea and sky. The next land after that was America. I was impressed.

‘Aye, it’s bonny enough. But see it all afore ye make up your mind.’

‘Is it safe to swim?’

She looked me up and down as we took the case and bags from the car. ‘You’re a wee thing but strong enough I ken. You’ll be up to your navel five yards in and you’ll need to watch the currents further out. Otherwise, it’s just the cold’ll get you.’

As we walked down to the cottage, I noted the small outhouse to one side, at the back. ‘Aye, that’s the privy. There’s no light but there’s running water.’

She unlocked the only door into the cottage, facing the sea, and let me in before her. Small windows let the sunlight in. There was an odd smell I could not identify until she reminded me the lighting came from oil. The cooker used bottled gas and there was a supply already connected. A pile of peat rested by the fireplace, should I need it. Enough was stacked against the back wall, under a wooden lean-to, to last for several weeks so I should be fine for the fortnight.

‘I’ll ask no questions about why you’re here alone, lassie. Good-looking young woman like you no doubt has her reasons for solitude. You’ll not be disturbed here, by anyone. There’s red deer wander the shore for seaweed, otters and seals in the sea and eagles in yon crags. Once or twice, a lad in search of adventure might pass on his way to climb the hills but you’d be unlucky to be caught unawares. The sun’s still warm enough to sit out at this time of year.

‘The water’s from a wee loch up yonder so it’s peaty and sometimes runs brown from the fawcett but it’ll do ye no harm. There’s spare bedding in yon closet and a torch under the sink. New batteries. I’ve a radio if you wish? No?

‘Well, I’ll leave you to it, lassie, you’ll no doubt be anxious to get settled after your long drive. When you leave, put the key on the shelf in the privy. Anything you need you’ll get from the post office; it closes all day Wednesday and, since you’re from the mainland, ye’ll no be aware it’s shut all the Lord’s Day too.’

I handed her the cash and she counted it out carefully before she smiled and gave me a receipt. I walked with her as far as the foot of the track, from which I could make out the roof of my Mini.

‘No need to fret about your wee car, lassie. No one here to steal or damage it. We don’t have much in the way of crime on the island. The men are hard but fair-minded. They get drunk and they fight. But they’ll do nae harm to a lassie. Should you happen on one you teck a fancy to, he’s like to be safe. Willing as any man, if you let him. Talk travels, so I’ll no let it be known you’re here, less ye want me to?’

‘I’d not welcome a horde, Mrs McAlastair, but a clean, handsome young prince might come in handy next week.’

She gave me a knowing look and assessed me as breeding stock. ‘Aye, there’s handsome enough about, lassie, but you’re no likely to find a prince, I fancy; more likely the frog.’ She turned and made her way up the track.

I waited for her to drive away before I dashed to the cottage, pulled a towel from my case, stripped and ran down the shingle to let the ocean wash the travel from my skin.

It was the first and only time I made that mistake. The ocean was cold and there was no fire in the cottage. By the time I had one lit, I was chilled and rather subdued. I vowed the fire would remain alight for the rest of my stay, and it did.

The privy was home not only to gas bottles for the cooker but to a variety of spiders; large, huge and colossal. They generally moved away from the oil lamp I carried if I ventured there after dark but I was always anxious of the possibility of one dropping on me. My visits were brief and to the point.

I discovered that the best way to collect the peat for the fire was to use the shovel provided for the ashes and take as large a pile as I could carry at one time. I stacked it high beside the fireplace and used enough to keep the place warm throughout the cool nights.

I’d been warned about midges but they didn’t trouble me. The land surrounding the cottage was well drained and there was no standing water to attract them, I suppose.

The light from the windows was enough for dreaming but if I wanted to read I had to either go outside or be near an oil lamp. Much of my time I left the front door open to reduce the slightly oppressive feeling engendered by the low smoke-stained ceiling.

The cottage, a proper croft, consisted of a single room, which contained the small kitchen area in the corner facing the door, the bed in the corner furthest from the door and the sitting area near the fire on the same wall as the door. A window faced the ocean on each side of the chimneybreast and a smaller window looked out on the rising hills behind the croft. I found I could open the door wide and sit in the ancient armchair, warmed by the fire when the days were cloudy, and read in comfort with fresh air occasionally disturbing my hair.

I was obliged to bathe in a tin tub that hung on the back of the privy door. It housed three tarantulas when I first took it down but they scuttled away when I dropped it noisily on the stone path. I had to fill it from two kettles, one hung over the fire and the other boiled on the gas stove. My first attempt took me over an hour for a reasonable depth and even then, the water was only warm. I hung it back on the door for the spiders to recolonize and decided to stick to my daily dip in the ocean waves, followed by a strip wash in soft, brown fresh water at the kitchen sink. Washing my hair was the most difficult and I had to make do with the sink for that as well, allowing it to dry by the fire or in the sun.

But these privations didn’t worry me. I’d sought isolation and simplicity and that’s what I’d found. I was used to cold and discomfort from my time with Heacham and the croft on my own was infinitely more comfortable than the cottage had ever been when shared with that perverted excuse for a man.

The isolation, and Mrs McAlastair’s hints that I may sunbathe unwatched, together with the loss of my shyness after sharing my body with Leigh, allowed me to be relaxed about being naked. I spent my time wearing very little or nothing unless I needed clothing for warmth.

Each day I swam as I had on my first day and ran to the cottage to dry off on a towel left by the fire. I saw no one for the first days but had the privilege of watching red deer grazing on the seaweed just along the shore and catching sight of a pair of otters playing in the surf. Seals eyed me curiously when I swam but never approached close enough to touch. Eagles evaded me until the Thursday when two flew overhead, circling quite low until one found and caught a small rabbit in the field near my car. I managed to catch something of all these natural sights with my camera and the telephoto lens Leigh had loaned me for my trip.

The weather varied enormously and there wasn’t a day when I didn’t see both sunshine and rain. Some days a heavy shower would smite the windows with lashing drops so loud they drowned the ocean’s constant surge. Other days a few drops would precede unbroken, glorious sunshine when I could lie outside and laze under the warm rays, reading Watership Down or The Thorn Birds or Lord of the Rings or simply imagining myself alone with Leigh.

For the first three nights, I allowed myself the necessary freedom to weep. My sorrow and grief at Dad’s death, having been finally released by that incident at Longhouse, now swept from me in tears heeded by no one but me. By Tuesday, I could think of his passing without desperate sobbing, though I knew it would be years before I could think of his death and remain completely dry-eyed and I was relieved to have the worst of my grief expressed at last. I felt free to enjoy myself without the guilt that grieving brings so unfairly in its wake.

It was on my first Friday that I met Hamilton. I was trotting up the beach, fresh from the waves, when I became aware of him standing by the door and watching me with evident surprise and delight. He was the prince I’d jokingly requested Mrs McAlastair to provide. He didn’t attempt to look away or hide his enjoyment of the view. On the floor, at his feet, rested a large rucksack and I guessed he expected me to believe he was one of the occasional mountaineers his mother had mentioned.

‘Good morning.’ I walked past him into the cottage and started to dry myself.

‘Hello.’ He remained in the open doorway, with his back turned, just out of sight.

‘You’re welcome to step inside and take a seat. I’ll make a pot of tea once I’m dried’

He entered at once and sat and watched me dry myself, continuing to study me with frank admiration and ill-disguised lust as I made the tea, but he said nothing.

‘Quiet sort, aren’t you?’

He nodded and continued to study me.

‘I haven’t seen a soul all week so you’ll forgive me if I’m a bit chatty.’

‘You’ve a lovely wee body, miss. Aye, and a pretty face.’

I stood and considered. Leigh had told me I was beautiful, but he said that to all the women who had sex with him. Then, of course, since he invariably also took photographs of them with the intention of selling them, they all would have to be beautiful. ‘Thank you.’

‘Thank you. Do you no think it a wee bit risky walking about in that state in front of a stranger?’

‘Your mother said I’d nothing to fear from the men of the island and …’

His face was a picture.

‘Oh, it’s obvious she’s either your mother or your aunt; you’re like peas in a pod. She said I’d be in no danger but that the men were willing enough if invited. I expect you’re hoping for an invitation?’

He blushed wonderfully and I stopped teasing him, knowing how unpleasant a blush can be but happy it wasn’t me who suffered this time.

I suddenly became aware of exactly what I was doing and laughed out loud at my audacity. I felt such relief that I was finally free of that terrible shyness that had been forced on me for so many years. I was confident in my body and myself and felt no shame attached to its voluntary display. I was good to look at and it was up to me whether I was seen.

‘I’m going to ask you a few questions and I want you to know that I’m very good at detecting lies. I want you to answer me truthfully, even if you think I might prefer a different answer. Whether you get to have sex with me depends on you answering my questions truthfully. Do you understand?’

‘I do, but how d’you know I actually want sex with you.’

‘It’s self-evident. But, if you don’t, you might as well go. I’ve no other use for male company at present.’

He grinned at his deception and my discovery of it. ‘Mother said you were a strange wee lassie. She was right and no mistake.’

I smiled at this description. ‘What’s your name?’

‘Hamilton.’

‘Well, Hamilton McAlastair, how many women have you had sex with?’

He opened his mouth to speak, gave himself time to think and then looked at me as if seeking a clue.

‘When I talk about the truth, Hamilton, that is exactly what I require.’

He shrugged, a little ashamed. ‘None, then.’

‘Excellent.’

He brightened at my obvious pleasure in his answer. ‘Kissed a few, of course, touched the odd wee titty, but no more than that.’

There was something charming in his use of a word I generally disliked and I found myself smiling again. ‘Just a few rules.’ I handed him a cup of tea. I noticed he was sweating slightly in the heat of the cottage fire. ‘Why not take off your jumper?’

He put the tea on the floor and did as I suggested, revealing a broad chest clad in a sleeveless shirt.

I waited till he sat again before explaining my rules. ‘Nothing you do must hurt me. I do not want to be kissed; kissing is an intimate act between people who love each other. I don’t love you and I don’t expect you love me. What I offer you will be for the period I offer it, no longer. When I’ve had enough of you, you must go, at once and without argument. Will you agree to these terms?’

‘Mother didn’t know the half of it. You’re the most amazing wee lassie I’ve come across. Aye, for the chance of knowing that lovely body and learning a trick or two to help me wi’ a woman, I’ll do as you ask.’

‘Good. Drink your tea and we’ll start to explore a little. Just to set your mind at rest, Hamilton, I’m not a prostitute and I don’t expect payment. I’m not in the habit of inviting strange men to have sex with me and you’ll be only the second man to know my body. I won’t explain why I’m doing this, except that I’m fulfilling a rather odd but important obligation. The sign for you to go, by the way, will be when I put on some clothes, or when I ask you. I’ll be naked whilst I wish you to stay. I take it you’ll not be missed if I need you overnight?’

‘Astounding. I’ll no be missed for a night or two, lassie. May I know your name?’

I told him.

‘Am I to start the … the er, whatever, or do I wait for your lead?’

‘However the mood takes you, Hamilton. I’m adaptable and ready to respond to your advances.’

I was so nervous inside but I couldn’t show him how I really felt. I was doing this to satisfy my need to carry out Dad’s wishes. I had no wish at all to satisfy the lust of another man or to give myself to anyone other than Leigh. But Dad’s wishes had been explicit. This was the only way I could reach a satisfactory compromise and I’d already decided I might as well approach the task enthusiastically. Hamilton’s arrival allowed me to do some good to someone else along the way. I considered myself fortunate to have been given the chance to do some sexual comparison for my education whilst teaching this pleasant young man something of value to him. I had no doubt at all about the outcome of my experiment but I must fulfil Dad’s last request of me. I knew myself well enough to understand that I had no choice in that matter if I was to live with my future self in peace.

The sun was high in the sky on Saturday when I moved off his strong young body for the last time. He lay looking up at me as if I might be an angel or a magical princess and I was sufficiently moved by his obvious adoration that I leant over and kissed his lips softly. ‘Thank you, Hamilton; you’ve been exactly what I needed. I’m going for my swim now. I expect you to be gone when I return.’

‘You canna just leave like that. Surely you don’t expect me to…’

‘I expect you to keep your side of the bargain, Hamilton. I expect you to follow the rules of our agreement. I expect you to show me that your mother was right.’ I draped my towel over the chair before the fire and walked out of the door and down to the sea without a backward glance.

The sea seemed particularly cold that day but I gave him time to make up his mind and to get dressed. I had no wish to confront him or argue with him. He’d done the job and enjoyed himself in the process. I’d given him an opportunity he was unlikely to get again and he would now have a better idea of how to pleasure any woman he cared to form a relationship with in future.

I deliberately avoided looking at the cottage as I swam and tried to lose myself in the waves and the water as it washed me clean of the sex and the smell of him. Although we’d shared some pleasurable sensations, I’d experienced nothing of the passion and desire and indescribable joy I’d felt with Leigh and I now fully understood for myself the real difference between having sex and making love.

Chilled and tired, I left the waves and sauntered up the beach, reluctant to reach the cottage in case he was lurking, waiting for more of me. But the place was empty. I dried myself and cried a few tears of relief. The job was done, my pride and honour saved by the anonymity of my subject, my duty to Dad complete. I could return to Leigh and know that I loved him not from inexperience or ignorance but because I loved him.

As I made myself a pot of tea, I noticed something on the table. The small package was wrapped in sheets of my notepaper and tied with string from the kitchen drawer. Inside was a small wooden box with a thistle carved on the lid. It was a handmade piece and the lid fitted well on its tiny brass hinges; the carving was good but lacked finesse and I guessed he’d brought it with him as an offering should I need inducement. Inside the box were three small sheets of paper. Each bore a charcoal drawing of me; in one I was sleeping on top of the bed, in another I stood at the door looking out to the ocean and in the last I was at the kitchen sink, making tea.

On the back of the one of me sleeping was a short note.

‘Faith, you gave me less than all of yourself but more than I deserved. I will carry you with me in my heart through all of my life, though I know I will never see you again. Thank you for your generous education of a simple man. You said I would not love you. That was the only mistake you made. Goodbye, Hamilton.’

I tucked the pictures back into the box, wondering when he’d found the time and opportunity to draw me, closed the lid and wiped a tear from the corner of my eye with a fingertip.

That night, I started writing my letter to Leigh, intending to drop it into the post office on Monday when I went to the village to replenish my supplies.

###

Impatient for the next chapter? You can buy the book in paperback (through online or high street outlets) or ebook format for whatever ereader you use, just click on the cover picture or visit ‘My Books’. If you do, I’d appreciate a review, posted wherever possible - Amazon, Goodreads, Smashwords, or any other bookish site. Reviews get indie published books noticed, you see.

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Read Breaking Faith, Free: Chapter 44

If you’ve come this far, you’re obviously reading Breaking Faith. We’re close to the denouement, moving towards the climax now. So, continue to enjoy the ride.

For those who haven’t been following the free read, I posted Chapter 1 on 13 January. Subsequent chapters have appeared each Friday, and will continue to be posted until all 50 have featured here. You can find those already posted via the archive; just search by chapter number. If you missed the start, you’ll find it here: http://stuartaken.blogspot.com/2012/01/read-free-my-novel-here.html

Read, enjoy, invite your friends along. As an author, I want people to read my writing, simple as that.

Chapter 44

Saturday 11th September

‘Bastards! Fucking, shitty bastards!’

I looked up, squinting in the bright sunshine streaming through the open window, to find Netta, hands on hips, staring down at us. Faith was still sleeping in my arms and I smiled at the pleasant pressure of her body against mine.

‘What’s so fucking funny?’

Naked, of course, her posture of jealousy threw her into a caricature of anger that held more amusement than alarm for me. My smile of pleasure at Faith’s slowly stirring presence, transformed into a smirk of scornful humour at Netta’s unjustified indignation. I struggled to prevent a laugh escaping me.

‘You fucking shit!’ She stomped from the room.

I felt Faith slowly rousing in my arms, stroked the hair off her face and kissed her lovely mouth until she struggled to free herself so she could yawn.

‘Sorry, not very romantic, but I had to do that.’

I smiled at her. From beyond our private world, I heard Netta leave the house in her usual state of dudgeon and sighed my relief. I could make love with Faith confident that Netta wouldn’t disturb us.

‘Make love…’

‘Pardon?’

I eased away the cover we must have drawn across us in the night. ‘I was just thinking of making love with you again. I’ve never thought of it that way before. It’s always been just sex. With you, it’s definitely love. In a sense, we both lost our virginity last night. You taught me as much as I taught you.’

‘Teach me more. Did I hear Netta?’

‘She’s, er, gone off.’

‘Oh.’

‘You seem disappointed.’

‘Only that I missed her discovery of us. Is that wicked?’

I laughed. ‘Considering the way she’s treated you, I think it’s generous. She’ll be back when she’s hungry. We’ll help her pack then.’

‘Heacham!’

‘He’ll not touch her after our visit. Netta’s safe. And she’s taken up enough of our time; I want to see what else we can discover about each other. But first, I want to look at you as I’ve never looked at you before.’

She smiled up at me, stretched, raising her arms over her head, and then relaxed with her hands under her head and her legs slightly apart. It was an invitation I couldn’t ignore and one I took to heart. I realized, as I took in her shape and form, I was looking at her in a way entirely different from my normal appraisal of a woman. No longer was I searching for imperfections that might render her unsuitable for modelling. No longer was I viewing a lovely body as a lovely body. This was Faith. I was looking at Faith. I was looking at the woman I loved and I understood comparisons were not only invalid but pointless and stupid. No other woman would ever look as good to me because no other woman was Faith.

Learning that lesson was extraordinarily easy. At that moment, I was interested only in her and the way she looked to me.

‘It’s unfair; the closer I move to you, to kiss your beautiful skin, the less of you I can see. I want all of you all the time. Your look, your touch, your smell, your taste, your feel, your laughter and your love.’

‘You have as much of me as there is, Leigh. You have all of me.’

As I gazed and touched, and tasted her, I was readily aroused. I lay on my back and discovered she needed little instruction, understanding she was in control.

We caught our breath and slowly came down from the mountain. My hands palmed her back from shoulders to thighs, tracing her contours and marvelling at the smoothness of her skin.

‘I begin to understand.’

I waited for expansion but she said no more, only breathed softly in my ear as her face lay on the pillow beside my head. I wanted to remain that way with her forever and it was she who made the move to separate us at last, sighing heavily.

‘Much as I would love to stay with you like this, Leigh, I’ve a long journey. I’ll have to be off straight after breakfast if I’m to be on time.’

‘You’re not going on holiday alone after this?’

She was already standing at the bedside and bent to kiss the tip of my nose. ‘Of course I am, silly. I know now, without any doubt, I love you. I know you think you love me. I still need to understand who and what I am and where I fit into the world. You need to decide whether you’re ready for me, to have me as your only love. Because, Leigh, I won’t share you with any other woman.’

‘But I love you, Faith.’

‘If you do love me, you’ll wait for my return and then we’ll be together for the rest of our lives. If you only think you love me, Netta will return to your bed and keep you company during my absence. When I come back, I’ll move out of Longhouse and leave you to it. I can love you only if you’re mine alone, Leigh. I’m sorry, but that’s how it is. And, once I’ve fulfilled Dad’s wishes, I’ll be as faithful to you as you must be to me.’

‘Wishes?’

She took my face in her hands and looked down at me with such tenderness, I melted. ‘You read his Will. Dad said I should try several but one other will do and then I’m yours forever. I think that’s fair, bearing in mind your extensive sampling, don’t you?’

How could I argue? I’d had hundreds of girls. I had no right to protest at her trying one other man. But how could I let the woman I loved have sex with some stranger? ‘Who have you got in mind?’

‘Oh, I’ve no idea, Leigh. I’m sure I’ll find someone willing enough, in view of all the offers I’ve had before. Anyway, I must shower or I’ll be late.’

And she was gone. I sat for a moment stunned by the whole situation. Usually I was in charge, or at least felt as if I was. Now, this young woman, whose virginity I’d claimed only that night, had taken over and was telling me what was going to happen. I went into the bathroom intent on showing her who was in charge in this new relationship and, much to my embarrassment, found her flushing the toilet.

She raised an eyebrow. ‘I don’t in the least mind you watching me shower, or sharing it with me, Leigh. But I’d prefer to use the toilet alone, if you don’t mind.’

‘Sorry, I just didn’t think. I wanted to … God, but you’re beautiful Faith. Please don’t go.’

She turned and got on with her shower. ‘We’ve been through that, Leigh, and you know I’ve got to go. It’s only two weeks. You’ll see; it’ll fly by. Give you time to catch up on some of that work you’ve let build up during your obsessive coupling with Netta. I know you’ll miss me. I’ll miss you. I’ve found something wonderful with you during the night and I want more. I don’t actually want to leave you, Leigh, but I must, and it must be now. My grieving and healing started last night but it isn’t over and I’d rather do the rest of my weeping in private. You know how hard it is for me to cry with others around, even you. Believe me; I do know what’s best for me on this occasion.’

I watched her wash, enjoying her open, uninhibited display that owed nothing to exhibitionism and everything to trust. It seemed that now we’d made love, all her inhibitions about being naked with me became irrelevant. I felt hugely privileged to be the one on whom she bestowed this trust but I was deeply concerned about her plan to let some other man invade her.

I knew it was irrational and even unfair, but I couldn’t let her share herself with some other man now that I loved her. I’d been indifferent to my women having sexual adventures with other men; had been supportive and encouraging, in fact. Even Netta, who’d been the closest to becoming what I might consider my woman, hadn’t worried me when she had sex with another. I knew my obsession with her was purely physical, my infatuation based solely on the wonderful combination of her physical appearance and her instinctive carnal abilities. Netta was made for sex, but not for love, and I knew I had no love for her. I’d grown fond of her, attached in a way I hadn’t known with any other woman, even Zizi. But there was no comparison with the way I felt about Faith. I wanted Faith, needed her and wanted to be with her, wanted to protect and provide for her, wanted her to have my children.

That thought stopped me in my tracks. I’d always considered children a nuisance to avoid at all costs. In any case, I’d always said I had no wish to bring a child into the world as it was with the perpetual fear of mass oblivion and the violent turmoil of modern society. But now I was considering the idea of a family with Faith. And the idea didn’t seem so bizarre, so awful, so undesirable after all.

‘Pass my towel, Leigh, please.’

I returned to the present and reached for her towel from the rail. She stood there dripping water down her skin and I wanted her again and she smiled at my obvious desire.

‘Me too. But I’m wet. And I do have to set off as soon as possible.’

I passed her the towel and watched her dry herself, loving every movement, every aspect of her. ‘Don’t go.’

She shook her head at me and stepped out of the bath, pulled the curtain across behind her to let it dry and draped her towel over the rail again.

I followed her into her bedroom and took her into my arms and she embraced me and kissed me and stroked my back. But, although she allowed me to put her on the bed and kiss her skin, she playfully smacked my bottom when I persisted. ‘Behave yourself. You know I want to make love again every bit as much as you do. Don’t make it more difficult than it already is. If I spend another hour or two with you in bed, I’ll be late arriving for the ferry and there’s no other way to the island. I’ll never find my cottage.’

So, I had at least learned that she was going to an island. It was something. I let her go and watched her cup her lovely breasts in a redundant softline bra in white. She stepped gracefully into scandalously brief panties, courtesy of Netta, and donned a sleeveless tie-dye tee shirt in greens and yellows before pulling on a light cotton maxi-skirt in a yellow-based paisley print. White ankle socks and flat suede driving shoes covered her feet last of all. She sat briefly before her dressing table mirror and brushed and combed her hair into a loose ponytail.

‘You look lovely in those clothes; get them off.’

She laughed and then looked down and stroked my erection, a soft pity in her eyes. ‘Will it hurt if you don’t use it?’

I could have lied but found I was incapable. ‘It’ll go once I stop thinking about how much I want you.’

‘I’ll make it up when I come back. Promise.’

I knew it was as much as I was going to get from her and I decided to give in and go along with her wishes. ‘I’ll get your breakfast whilst you pack the car. Go on.’

‘You’d better put something on first. It’s difficult enough leaving you as it is; when you’re as ready as that for me, it’s almost impossible.’

‘In that case, I’ll stay naked till you drive out of the gate.’

‘You’re a wicked, inconsiderate man, Leighton Longshaw, and I love you.’ She removed the pants I’d watched her don so gracefully and pushed me to the bed where she brought me quickly to a climax with remarkable skill and ease. I was still recovering as she parted from me.

‘Now I’ll have to wander about without knickers until I stop leaking. Wicked man.’

I was struck by the difference between the way she’d pleasured me entirely for myself and the way Netta had mounted me that first time and taken her own pleasure first.

‘Oh! My poor wren. This is what made me cry and what made you come to me in the night. I was fond of it before. Now it means so much more to me.’ She picked up the broken carving and brought it to show me.

‘I’ll get Old Hodge to mend it. It’ll be good as new, don’t worry.’

I made her breakfast as promised. She packed her car and then ate, watching me with mischief in her gorgeous eyes.

At the gate, she poked her head out of her car window and kissed me. ‘Be good and take care of yourself. I expect to return to no backlog and plenty of free time in which to make love with you.’ She handed me the morning’s post, which I could’ve sworn was on my desk when I’d gone down to make the breakfast. I frowned and she gave me a cheeky smile. ‘Might be a summons in there for me, but if I don’t know, I can’t be made to stay, can I? And no one knows where to reach me. See you in a fortnight, Leigh. I love you.’ And she was off down the lane, waving as she drove toward the road.

I watched her out of sight before I closed the gate and returned to the house to find Ma looking at me with an expression of glee.

‘At last.’

I turned back to the direction Faith had taken and looked at the empty space. The two weeks till she returned would be long and lonely.

‘I love her, Ma.’

‘Obviously; taken long enough to realize it, haven’t you? Where’s she gone?’

I explained.

Ma was intrigued. ‘I doubt he expected her to fall so completely for one man at the first attempt, otherwise her dad was wise enough to know comparisons mean nowt. I hope she doesn’t get herself in bother with some kilted highlander, that’s all. If I’d known what she had planned, I’d not have hung on to this.’

From her apron pocket, she produced a brown envelope. It was the dreaded summons and Ma had had it for days. She looked a bit shame faced as she handed it to me. ‘I didn’t want her worried by even more anxiety. I was going to give her it just now but she was out that gate before I crossed the lawn.’

‘She was determined to escape that summons. Looks like she’s succeeded.’

‘I’m so pleased you’ve finally decided you’re made for each other, Leigh. I’ve been wanting you to marry that girl almost since the day you took her on.’

‘Well, you’ll have to wait a couple more weeks at least. God, I’m going to miss her.’

Ma looked suddenly anxious. ‘She’ll not be in trouble if she fails to attend the court will she, Leigh?’

‘Only for contempt, Ma. Just a couple of years inside. Nothing to worry about.’

Ma looked at me and I saw the anxiety grow sharply on her face.

‘Tell the truth, Ma, I’ve no idea what might happen. I doubt she’ll be in any bother when we explain she didn’t receive it. But I think we’d best try to let her know and then, if we can’t find her, let the court know this arrived too late.’

‘You know where she’s gone?’

‘No idea, except it’s a Scottish island. You?’

Ma shook her head. ‘Still, the travel agent’ll know.’

I hadn’t thought of that. ‘I’ll pop in on Monday. Good thinking, Ma.’ And I put that anxiety at the back of my mind. ‘Think I’ll have some breakfast, need something to replace that energy.’

‘Is yon hussy likely to join you?’

‘Unlikely, Ma. She did a runner when she caught Faith and I in flagrante delecto. No doubt, she’ll return later and attempt to show me what I’m missing. But I’m packing her bags after breakfast. She can go back to Matilda’s.’

‘Best of British, Leigh. It’ll not be easy parting company with that one.’

I knew. It was a task I was dreading, but I was determined to carry it through and, after breakfast, I carefully packed everything I could find that belonged to Netta and put the cases in the back of the car in readiness. I assumed she would be decent enough to travel home in whatever she’d slung on to walk the hills.

When she failed to arrive back for teatime, I began to be a little concerned. My anxiety became serious when she failed to show as darkness began to fall. I called Matilda and spent a long time persuading her that there was no need for her to come over.

‘I’ll let you know as soon as she returns. Now I know how a parent feels when a child goes missing. I don’t know whether I’ll spank her backside or hug her so tight she’ll not be able to breathe.’

‘Leave the spanking to me, Leigh. She might enjoy it too much from you.’

Later, I called the police to report her missing, just in case she’d fallen somewhere out there. The storm clouds had regrouped after the beautiful respite of the morning and the afternoon had seen some rain and a little distant thunder. The oppressiveness had returned by evening and the threat of a renewed storm was imminent. I thought of that little lass out on the hills, alone and probably frightened, and decided I’d better try to find her.

###

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