Read Breaking Faith, Free: Chapter 49

This is the penultimate chapter. Enjoy what’s left of 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 49

Tuesday 30th November

My return from Scotland had been so full of hope and expectation. Reality killed all that along with Netta. I examined my reactions to her death and found, amongst the grief and sorrow, I could blame both her and her attacker but neither Leigh nor myself. I felt no guilt, no responsibility, and Leigh’s insistence on his fault confounded me.

At first, I accepted he must be grieving in his own particular way. He would eventually leave that stage and return to his normal self. It was clear he found comfort in my arms and derived pleasure from our nearness, so I couldn’t understand his determination to avoid me. It wasn’t important, for the moment, that he couldn’t make love. The trauma of discovering Netta’s naked and abused body coupled with his natural grief at her loss caused that. Time would sort it out; time, patience and understanding from me. Alex Comfort’s book had taught me many things but that was a most important lesson.

Leigh, having lived so long through and for sex, seemed incapable of understanding it was just one aspect of our lives together, only part of our relationship.

I wanted him inside me again, I wanted to make love. Of course I did. But I could and did still love him without sex. Just to have him in my arms, to have his arms round me, was joy and pleasure. There was more than comfort in our embrace, more than mutual support.

He couldn’t see it.

And his obsession with Netta made it hard for him to accept she was dead. He had to keep her memory alive, had to keep the image of her clear before him as though that would somehow cover up his guilt. Guilt that was misplaced and unnecessary. It had been difficult enough for me to bear his fixation with Netta when she was alive; to have her form a barrier between us now she was dead was almost unbearable.

Eric’s death changed everything. In practical terms, it brought me a new home without the effort of finding one; and with it, an escape from the claustrophobic atmosphere of Longhouse. It brought me Bruce and his unquestioning devotion and loyalty. And it brought Zizi up from London, ostensibly to give me her support and comfort. When I heard them at it through the night I knew I had to leave. He could find a way to fuck Zizi, but not a way to make love with me.

I’d been in Dad’s old cottage for a week, though it wasn’t strictly mine in a legal sense until much later, with Bruce my only companion, when I received news that Heacham’s old Will had been found in favour of myself and Hope. He’d failed to change it after I’d left. I was surprised to learn I now had two cottages. I’d always thought Heacham’s place was rented. But he’d apparently inherited it from his parents. What, I wondered, had he done with all the rent I’d paid for him over the years? It turned out he, or rather I, had been the sole payer of rent for the old stone barn he and his cronies used as their chapel. The rest he’d hoarded in bank accounts and in a box in cash under the bed.

I found grim satisfaction in regaining what I’d lost to him and great delight in ending at once the informal agreement on the chapel. The few who’d joined him in his grotesque distortion of Biblical legend faded into obscurity amongst the community once their meeting place was advertised as ideal for conversion to holiday accommodation.

I would have to take decisions on behalf of Hope but I went to see her anyway. I wish I had let her be. She was all flab and bedsores; her lovely hair cut short, dry and unstyled, her skin red and flaking. There was no dignity in what she’d become. She was no more than meat kept alive and I wished they would let her die in peace if that was the best they could do for her. But I couldn’t and wouldn’t remove her from their care and knew I shared their guilt in my refusal. I used her share of the funds from the Will to employ a private nurse to see her three times a week and care for her skin and general health. I would do no more for her myself; it was pointless, she didn’t even know me. I’d spent my early life sacrificing my needs to the demands of others. It was time I lived for myself.

Heacham’s cottage was a mess and bore the stench of death. I threw the windows open to bring in fresh air but knew I could never live there. It was foul and full of memories I wanted to erase. For three days, I cleaned and cleared out rubbish, burning everything of his, including a handful of foreign-language, pornographic magazines that lay stained and scattered on the floors.

I restored it to some semblance of tidiness so I might do something with the place. Once finished, I was full of tension, angst and bitterness. I must free myself of the memories of Heacham and that house if I was ever to live in peace. I needed some sort of symbolic act, some spiritual rite to wash me free of the filth I associated with his memory. The tarn offered an attractive solution. It was November but not yet seasonally cold and the autumn rains had filled the lake with clear cleansing water.

I put on my working underwear, grabbed a towel and walked up the hill, Bruce running ahead of me as if impatient to get to the tarn. In the shadow of the trees, with sunlight sparkling on the silent water, I folded my outer clothes; the idea of Mervyn watching me swim naked had spoiled the place to some extent and I wasn’t prepared to risk treating him again.

The water was cold enough to take my breath away but I waded in until I was able to swim. The cold and the clarity of that fresh, untainted water flushed away my tension and I felt my spirit healing within me as the tension left. A few strokes took me to the very centre and I ducked myself beneath the surface and struck into the depths. Kicking hard, I touched the bottom and then pushed myself hard and fast toward the light above. I broke surface and gulped the sweet, fresh air and laughed aloud in exultation.

Bruce barked. I turned to see Mervyn in the trees, a large fallen branch in his hand. Bruce stood, hackles high, menacing the lout as he approached my clothes.

‘Go away, Mervyn! Leave me alone.’

His silence was unnerving. Bruce went for him and Mervyn shook him off his arm. I had no time to decide what to do. He fended Bruce off with the stick. I was swimming, wading, running for the bank before I ever thought of what I was doing. As I emerged from the water, Mervyn turned to me and gave a savage kick to Bruce. My poor dog was hurt and he caught him by his collar in one hand, the other holding the branch over his head.

‘Dog’s fuckin’ dead, less you do as I say. Get them off, cunt.’

‘Leave my dog alone. He’s done nothing to you.’

‘Off. Or the dog’s meat, cunt.’ He waved the bloodied bough and Bruce suddenly seemed so vulnerable. Perhaps I could buy time, distract the pervert. I slowly slipped off the bra and made myself stand proud.

‘Them an’all. Get the fuckers off.’ He waved the bough close above Bruce’s head and I knew I had no choice.

I stood naked before him and understood what he did not; that he had no way to rape me whilst holding Bruce. If I were to run, he’d be forced to make a choice. And I was certain I knew what choice he’d make. Bruce would be safe.

He took a step forward. ‘On the ground, cunt. Legs apart an’ arms underneath. Or I’ll whip your tits with this.’

I stooped and grabbed a handful of wet pebbles. He was so engaged by my body, he failed to notice what I was doing. As my stones peppered him, he was startled into dropping his weapon.

I took my chance and ran. ‘Come on, Bruce!’

The fool moved to my clothes. As if I cared about that when he threatened my very existence. I ran for the cottage as fast as I could, his mistake giving me the lead I needed.

Heavy, fat and unfit, he wasn’t as fleet as I. But I had to watch for sharp stones that might damage my bare feet and disable me. And I’d misjudged him. He paused only to batter Bruce hard enough to stop him running with me. I stopped, uncertain what I should do; concerned for my dog.

But he moved away from Bruce and started toward me. I turned and ran again. I gained on him only slowly and he was still within sight as I reached the cottage. I’d left the back door unlocked and I opened the garden gate, closing and bolting it behind me, and was quickly inside the cottage and safe. I locked and bolted the back door, top and bottom, and leant with my back against it, breathing hard and fast but relieved to be secure inside whilst he was locked outside.

The front door opened. I’d left the key in my coat. He’d watched me leave by the front door, seen me pocket the key, and followed me to the tarn. I suspect he took the key whilst I was in the water, just in case.

He took his time, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. He locked it and put the key in his pocket. I desperately tried to return to the back door I’d just secured. But he was in the kitchen before I’d undone the top bolt and I had to dodge round the table to escape him.

There was blood above one of his cold eyes. My stones had been more effective than I’d thought.

‘I’m gonna fuck you, cunt. On the table, on the floor, over the chair, up your cunt, up your arse, in your mouth. Then I’m gonna beat your fuckin’ brains out, just like I did that other lyin’ cunt. Onny, wi’ you, I’ll leave my cock in when I come ‘cos no-one’s ever goin’ to know what happened to you. Your body’ll burn with this house once I’ve ‘ad enough. But I’m gonna teck me time. I’ll tie you up an’ come back to fuck you every day for as long as I like. An’ no one’ll know.’

He studied me as he took off his coat. He eased each of his boots off in turn. He untied the string he used for a belt. ‘Gonna tie your ‘ands together wi’ this. Tight, so it hurts.’ He removed his trousers. ‘This is gonna split you an’ meck you bleed an’ scream before I’m done wi’ you.’

I was shivering now that I’d stopped moving, still damp from the tarn, cold from the air as I’d run, and terrified by his threats. ‘Leigh’ll be here soon. You’d better go, if you know what’s good for you, Mervyn.’

Fear flashed briefly across his face and then he sneered. ‘Think I’m fuckin’ stupid? You ‘aven’t seen Leigh in days. I bin watchin’ you ever since you come. Seen you around the ‘ouse in nowt but your knickers. See you now in nowt at all.’

‘I don’t understand why you hate me, Mervyn. What have I done to make you dislike me so?’

‘You and your whoring sister got me sacked. Cunts! Well, I did for her and she were beggin’ for mercy before I finished her. Your turn now. You’ll teck longer, be more fun. No one comes up ‘ere since your pervert father topped hissen. They say it’s haunted. Soon be haunted by more’n ‘im. Like being a ghost, will you?’

‘What do you want from me, Mervyn?’

He moved suddenly but I reacted as quickly and kept the table between us.

‘Want? I’m gonna ‘ave what I want, cunt, whether you like it or not. I’m gonna ‘ave you. Any way I want and as many times as I like. You can’t make no bargains wi’ me. I can do what I like wi’ you.’

I put my hands on the table to steady myself, emotion and physical fatigue making me suddenly unsteady. My hand caught the edge of the table. My finger caught the handle of the drawer. I opened it and grabbed the large carving knife that Heacham had kept razor sharp to slice the Sunday roast.

Mervyn saw the blade and backed involuntarily from the table. He searched for a weapon and I took my chance, grabbing the teapot from the sink behind me and throwing it at him as hard as I could. Caught off guard, he moved too late and it hit him on the side of his head. I dashed from the kitchen and slammed the door closed behind me.

Desperate, I pushed the armchair against it before he had time to recover. For a few seconds, I stood, uncertain of my next move. It gave him time to recover and barge through into the sitting room. He was armed with the wooden rolling pin and came straight at me.

I dodged his first blow and struck out blindly with the knife. I felt resistance and saw blood drip from his free hand.

‘Cunt!’

He swung at me again and I ducked, the end of the rolling pin crashing against my shoulder. I turned and side stepped. This time I held my ground as he rushed at me. The knife stabbed through his shirt and into his midriff as he brought the rolling pin down, hitting the top of my head.

I was stunned for a few seconds, blackness fighting my instinct to remain conscious. I won through the pain and dizziness to find blood flowing across my left eye. Mervyn was staggering nearby with the knife still in his body. I picked up the empty coalscuttle and slammed it as hard as I could across his head. He stumbled and turned to face me. His hands were scrabbling at the knife and his face was drained and white. I picked up the rolling pin from the floor and hit him back and forth across his face and head. He put up his hands to defend himself and rose from his knees to try to reach me. I moved aside as he came forward and he fell onto his face. I hit him again on the back of his head and then dashed to the front door. It was locked and he had the key.

I jumped hard on his writhing body as I passed and rushed for the back door. Frantic with terror, I undid the top bolt, turning to see if he was behind me. There was no sign of him in the kitchen as I ran from there into the back garden and opened the gate. I peered round the cottage, fearing he might have opened the front door. But he wasn’t there. I ran down the stony lane, heedless of the sharp stones cutting my feet.

Mrs Greenhough’s shop was closed. Early closing day.

I stumbled across the Green to the red telephone box, picked up the receiver and dialled 999.

‘Police and ambulance. I’ve been attacked and I think I might’ve killed….’

###

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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.

###

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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.

###

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 42

Reviews of Breaking Faith, under the 'My Books' tab, might convince you to try this book, unless, of course, you’re already doing so.

If so, enjoy the ride.

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 42

Tuesday 7th September

‘I don’t know why you’re so surprised, Faith, you know I witnessed the Will.’

‘I still don’t see how you knew, unless Dad told you.’

‘Of course David gave me an idea of what you’d be worth. He knew you’d be better off than me and I’ve a shrewd idea he expected that to have a significant, and adverse, affect on our relationship.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

‘That I was witnessing your father’s Last Will and Testament? Hardly helpful when you were still trying to fool yourself that he would…’

‘Why didn’t you tell me how much I would inherit?’

‘David asked me not to.’

She gave me one of her soft looks and I knew I had her on my side again, however briefly. ‘At the moment, my major concern is whether you’ll stay at Longhouse …as my Girl Friday and printer, until I can find someone else?’

‘You want me to leave?’

‘Of course I don’t. But I’ve no doubt you’ll want to be on your way.’

She looked as if I’d made the most idiotic suggestion possible.

‘Don’t you?’

For a while, she was silent.

‘I want that holiday, Leigh. I want to go as soon as possible, and I want to go alone.’

I allowed my disappointment to show. ‘I’d hoped you’d want me along.’

‘Under different circumstances, I would. Heaven knows, I don’t want to leave you alone with Netta any more than I have to. But I need time and space to understand myself and work out who and what I am and what I want to do with my life. And I can do that only on my own.’

‘Two heads are better than one.’

‘Dad made his decisions alone. I’ll do the same. Don’t waste your breath trying to change my mind; I don’t want us to fall out over this. When can I go?’

She had enough money to make her totally independent and yet she was asking my permission to go on holiday. I knew when I was beaten. ‘As soon as the travel agent can fix it, I suppose.’

She reached up and kissed me, passing that magic to me so that her withdrawal left me feeling as though some part of my being remained with her. ‘I’ll go into town now. I need to get away, Leigh, as soon as possible.’

I watched her leave and wondered how soon I would be saying goodbye to her for good. That prospect wrenched my insides and tore at my heart in a way that should have warned me. Netta approached and I wondered how much of what had passed she’d observed. Her manner was cautionary as she reached up to embrace me and I found myself not just unwilling to respond to her, but almost incapable. She took my limp arm and placed my hand on her warm, round bottom but I felt only flesh and was suddenly certain I wanted none of it, none of her. ‘Sorry, Netta, I’m busy.’ I left her with her mouth open and went into the studio to work, if I could.

‘Bastard!’

I heard her slam out of the house a few moments later and knew she would make me pay for my act of rejection later. I wondered, however, whether I cared.

They returned almost together, Netta, sooner than was usual and in softened mood, ready to give me another chance, and Faith bursting with barely suppressed nervousness. She hadn’t shed a tear since the funeral, perhaps not even since her father’s death. Her tension had diminished during our picnic but it had been smothered rather than removed and had resurfaced immediately on our return. Whatever had passed at the solicitor’s office, in spite of the bequest, had done little to ease it. She might break down completely if she couldn’t find a way to express her grief.

Netta claimed me as first arrival and I fondled her and promised I’d make things up to her later. She seemed uncharacteristically ready to accept and I wondered how much she understood of my turmoil. I certainly knew I’d escaped lightly.

Faith burst in in a conflict of moods. ‘I’ve booked my holiday. I’m going on Saturday. A woman spat at me in the street and called me a whoring cow. It’s in the papers. Heacham’s trial starts a week on Monday. I’m going to Scotland. An island. It’s a croft and there’ll be no one for miles. She said I was a colluding whore. They were all staring.’

‘They’ll need you for the trial, Faith. I don’t think you can go now.’

She barely glanced at me. ‘I’ve written it down. No one’s said I have to. You won’t be able to reach me. I’m going on Saturday.’

I wondered why the official notification hadn’t already come. Faith was the most obvious material witness to the rapes, although I was certain she’d been completely unaware of what the bastard was doing. I wondered if I should make that clear again, but her manner and her desperation to get away made me cautious about raising a disagreement I hoped had been settled between us.

That she was very near to breaking was obvious in her strange manner of speech and the visible tension in the way she held herself. It seemed as likely as not that a good break from the area and from Netta and I would help her come to terms with all that had happened.

‘Is Heacham still in custody?’

I waved my hand at Netta to silence her but she must know.

‘Well, is he?’

‘No, Netta. They let him out a short while after he attacked you. On bail. Though God knows why. Apparently, he’s considered no threat to anyone else.’

‘Take me to see him.’

I stared at her. Faith, poring over a road atlas, seemed to be taking no notice. I moved closer so I might identify at least the area she was planning to visit. ‘When did you buy that?’ I wasn’t interested, merely wanting the opportunity to see what part of the country she was studying.

‘I won it on the driving course.’

She had never said. I wondered what other secrets, small and large, were locked up in her. I wanted to ask but Netta was insistent and I had to turn my attention to her.

‘Take me, Leigh. Or I’ll go alone.’

Unlikely as it seemed, I believed her threat. ‘Why? What’s he to you?’

‘Hope’s my half sister. I owe her. Take me, Leigh. Now.’

I shrugged. ‘We’ll be back later, Faith.’

‘If you’re going to do him any violence, either of you, make it painful and humiliating and tell him I’d like to see the foul, hypocritical, bastard dead; painfully, lingeringly dead!’

Her venom shocked me but I nodded and followed Netta, almost demure in her summer dress, to the car.

He was alone in the cottage, his vest and trousers stinking with sweat and the floor strewn with rubbish. Unshaven, unkempt, dirty and dishevelled, he didn’t want us in the cottage. But Netta made it clear she wouldn’t be refused and I just barged my way in with her in close pursuit.

‘Why did you beat me, Heacham?’

No reply.

‘Answer Netta’s questions, Heacham. I’m in no mood for mercy and I’ve shown you once what I can do.’

He sulked and glared as he sat in the armchair amongst his filth. I wanted it over with as soon as possible so I took a step toward him and he put up his hand in self-defence.

‘All right. I’ll not have my daughter parading naked in public, showing her all to the world and making a laughing stock of me. Whore!’

‘I’m not your daughter. Neither is Faith. The only child you fathered is that damaged little girl you repeatedly raped.’

‘I never…’

‘Oh, shut it, Heacham! Leigh caught you with your prick in the poor helpless baby and you admitted you’d been fucking her for years! I’d have your filthy balls off only you’re not worth it.

‘Prison’s where you’re going, Heacham, and they don’t like men, if that’s what you are, who rape helpless kids. They won’t care about your balls. They’ll burn and crush them, tear them off you. And the prison guards won’t even hear your screams. Every day one of the perverts will bugger you. They’ll fuck you till your arse bleeds and you scream in agony and still no one will do anything to help you because they’ll all know you deserve it.

‘Your life inside’ll be a living hell. When you’ve been beaten and castrated and raped until your arse is a pulp of blood and shit, they might give you solitary, for your own protection. Of course, you might be dead by then, if you’re lucky. I thought you’d like to know what you’re going to, that’s all.’ She marched over and spat into his terrified face. As he wiped it clear, she raised a leg and, true to form, he was so taken by the sight of what she revealed, he failed to understand her purpose. Her stiletto heel drove hard into his groin and he screamed. Removing her foot, she slapped him several times, her hands making vicious contact with his unprotected face.

I let her take her revenge until he tried to protect himself. Then I stepped in, pulled him to his feet by his greasy hair and planted a single straight right that made the satisfactory crunch of breaking bone as my fist connected with his nose, already broken after my previous attack. He reeled back into the chair.

‘That’s for Faith and all the years of childhood and joy you denied her. That sweet innocent girl hates you absolutely and comprehensively and wishes you a long and painful death, by the way. Such has been the outcome of your worthless life. Personally, I think you’ve got off lightly. What I’d like to do to you is worse than your wildest nightmares, Heacham.’

 Netta gave him one last slapping before she backed away. ‘Why not just do yourself in and put the rest of us out of your misery.’

In the car, I looked at Netta with renewed respect. ‘How did you know all that about prison?’

‘One of my men friends has been inside.’

I almost made a joke in response but managed to refrain.

Faith was nowhere to be seen when we returned and Ma had gone home after preparing our evening meal of chicken salad.

‘Christ, that’s made me randy!’ Netta was panting with some strange passion.

I was seething with unspent rage but I let her undress me in the sitting room and watched her strip her own sweet body before we gave ourselves to lust on the floor.

Faith was standing in the doorway when we finished. She stared at us with such contempt I felt compelled to move out of her sight, but the only way from the room was through the doorway she blocked. ‘You really are the most pathetic creatures, aren’t you?’

I felt so small.

She failed to join us for dinner and we ate in subdued silence without looking at each other.

The next day she worked silently in the office and the darkroom and ignored me unless I asked her a direct question. I felt diminished in her eyes and wanted to apologise and make an explanation, but there was none.

The weather was no help; oppressive and hot, with a sky clear by day and clouded by night so that there was no relief from the build up of heat.

On Friday night, I’d intended a small celebration to mark Faith’s departure for holiday; a private party to send her on her way with our best wishes. But she was absent again from dinner and remained in her room.

Netta and I eventually went to bed, having consumed the wine I’d opened for the parting, Netta drinking the lion’s share. I wasn’t in the mood for sex and, to my surprise, she seemed unconcerned by my indifference, perhaps too drunk to care. I suspect she felt that once Faith had gone, she’d be free to have her way with me again as often as she pleased.

In the early hours, thunder woke me and I lay awake listening to Netta snoring softly beside me, undisturbed by the violent storm. Booms and rolls and roars echoed from the fells as lightning strobed across the open window. Soon her breathing was drowned by torrential rain that poured over the gutters and pelted on the tiles above and against the glass of the window I had to shut.

From within the house I heard the sound of something falling, followed by a heartrending cry of utter desolation.

###

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