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….’

###

Impatient for the final chapter? It’ll appear after Christmas. If you’re really that impatient, perhaps you can persuade someone could give you it as a Christmas present. It’s available 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’. 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 48

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 48

Sunday 12th September

‘Sorry? Sorry? Does that bring back Netta’s laughter and joy? Does sorry make it better? Will sorry restore her to me? You think you’re sorry, you shit of shits; you will be when I’m done with you.’

‘Matilda! Leigh was out all night looking for her. It wasn’t his fault she ran off the way she did, she was always doing it.’

‘You would stick up for him. You’re as good as his mother, you’re bound to side with him.’

‘Want someone to blame, Matilda? And you do. Blame the devil who chased her across that fell and threw her into the pit.’

She looked at Old Hodge’s face and something reached her. He had a way of getting through to people with few words.

She broke down and wept without restraint and allowed me to comfort her this time. Ma made the ubiquitous pot of tea as I nodded my thanks at Old Hodge.

When she’d sobbed herself into exhaustion, she asked me to explain, to tell her exactly what had happened. It was a chance to explain to Ma and Old Hodge as well and they listened with few interruptions.

‘When’s Faith due back home?’

‘Week on Saturday.’

‘Netta’ll be long underground by then. I don’t know what…’

‘Not if there’s been foul play. They may not release her… her body, if there has to be a trial.’

But they did. The inquest followed on the Wednesday and they found her to be the victim of unlawful killing by a person or persons unknown. She’d been brutally raped and one of the fractures to her skull had occurred before she’d been thrown into the pit. Conjecture was she’d been chased, caught, bound and raped. She’d then been knocked unconscious, and dumped in the pit, probably still alive until she hit the bottom. It sickened and enraged me but I was powerless to act in any way at all.

Heacham had been the obvious culprit except his own time of death coincided with Netta’s. Whilst the forensic and medical evidence allowed a short overlap between the two events, it was unlikely he could have made it back to his cottage and done away with himself in the time allowed. In any case, there was nothing at the cottage to indicate he’d been out in that rain. His clothes were dry. His note, confessing relatively minor sins other than the multiple rapes of Hope, made no mention of Netta’s death.

To our relief, the coroner released Netta’s body for burial, though not cremation, once all tests were done. There was little forensic evidence to help the case. The rapist had either used a condom or removed himself before ejaculation. The only semen found was mine. There were no foreign pubic hairs mingled with hers, no skin, raked from his back, beneath her fingernails. And the rain had washed her skin clean of any pollution from her murderer, no fibres, nothing on her that wasn’t her own. Only one thing puzzled them; the grit and tiny shreds of vegetation lodged within the flesh of her bruised vulva. The conclusion was she’d been kicked by a booted foot. But whether before or after the rape, no one could say.

The guilty rock he’d used to club her was belatedly discovered on the hillside where I’d waited for the dawn. Nearby, in the heather, lay the cup from my flask. I hadn’t even missed it. When they arrested me for the crime and I admitted my complicity, Ma’s strident denials were treated with indifference. But Matilda came to my rescue, explained to them in terms they understood and secured my release. She drove me home in time for me to change for the funeral.

She remained at Longhouse, as Faith was due back the next day and she wanted to be there. I spent the afternoon in a state of restlessness that drove Matilda and Zizi almost to despair. They sent me to the office with instructions to do something useful and to get out of their hair. Going through the backlog of mail on my desk, I came across Faith’s letter.

I read her words with growing disbelief and almost tore up her pastel sheets of pain. I almost took her things and threw them on the drive. I almost laughed at her amazing innocence and honesty and callous indifference about my feelings. How could she do that in cold blood and then write to me about it in such candid detail? How could she say she loved me and then go off and screw a stranger, just for some peculiar experience? How could she…?’

I was so confused and bitter, I gave the letter to Matilda and Zizi, asked them the questions, how?

‘How could she, in perfect innocence, do just once what you did all the time in full knowledge of the facts before you finally took her? How could she fulfil what she saw as a sacred duty to her dad? How could she not?’

‘How could Faith forgive you all the pain and rejection you heaped on her? How could she hang on to her love for you when all you gave her was hurt and dismissal? I know how, Leigh, because through all the hopelessness and pain I love you just as she does.’

‘Oh, Leigh, what’ve we done to them, to Netta and to Faith? What have we given them? What lessons have we taught? I hope they’ll forgive us.’

We went to separate beds and slept uneasily. Zizi, who’d come up, at Ma’s request, to support me for the funeral, spent the night in Faith’s bed and left first thing on Saturday morning. I’d slept alone since Faith had left.

I saw her car come up the lane. Matilda stood beside me, waiting in the office. Faith was getting out of her car when I went out to meet her. The smile of joy and expectation on her face died in concern as she looked into my face.

‘Leigh, what’s happened?’

I had it all planned; how I would lead up to the events, skirt around the final tragedy, leave out the gruesome details and break it to her gently.

‘Netta’s been raped and murdered.’

She looked at me for the briefest of moments as if I’d uttered some meaningless foreign phrase, then she took me in her arms to comfort me. She, who’d lost the sister she loved, supported me in my grief.

She had to know it all and I felt compelled to tell her. Matilda was silent throughout and let me tell the tale in its entirety. At last I made my confession to the woman I loved. ‘It’s my fault. If I hadn’t taken advantage of you, she would never…’

‘If that makes it your fault, Leigh, it makes it mine as well. You took no advantage. I invited you. If our making love caused Netta’s rape and murder, then I’m as much to blame as you.’

‘No. No, you were an innocent party in all this.’

‘Leigh, you’re wrong. It must be both or neither of us. You did nothing to me Leigh. What we did we did together, with each other. I was no more innocent, or guilty, of our making love than you were. What we did was make love with each other, not you to me, nor me to you. If not making love, then what can be mutual between two people?’

‘You’re not to blame, Faith.’

‘Then neither are you. Did I run off to the hills to sulk every time you had sex with Netta?’

‘You found other ways to retaliate.’

‘Once, and under extreme provocation and for reasons far more complex than your display of mutual obsession.’

‘There’s no one else to blame.’

‘Except Netta herself.’

Matilda drew in breath sharply and looked at me. But, though I found it hard to think of Netta being culpable, I couldn’t argue with Faith’s logic and I was too drained to fight.

Faith understood the quandary she’d given me and softened her attack. ‘There’s only one person to blame, Leigh: the brutal bastard who did it.’

‘They don’t know who it was.’

‘I do.’

I saw my own incredulity echoed on Matilda’s face.

‘Have they interviewed Mervyn?’

‘He’s got an alibi.’

‘With those brothers, I bet he has. It doesn’t mean he didn’t do it.’

‘No one can prove it.’

‘Perhaps.’

Matilda thought we needed time and space. She went home, her way of life under review, her head and heart full of ‘if only’ and ‘what if?’ and the joy in her eyes extinguished.

Faith and I went to our separate beds that night, until she came to me in the early hours seeking and offering comfort. We embraced and found some help in that, but for the first time ever, I was incapable of making love.

‘It’s not important. It isn’t what I came for, Leigh. I just wanted to hold you and be in your arms, be next to you, that’s all.’

But I didn’t sleep that night. When she woke, I tried again, but the image of Netta lying used and broken in that pit wouldn’t leave my mind and I couldn’t respond to Faith’s touch. All I could see was Netta’s cold abandoned body, hurt, abused and defiled. I left my bed, disturbed and anxious at this new torment.

‘Come back and hold me, Leigh.’

But I wanted more than that, I needed more. I feared each time I moved to touch her I would find that appalling image of Netta excluding all else from my mind. I went down to breakfast alone.

So, the days and nights went by and nothing changed except that the lack of sex grew like a cancer between us, cold and cruel in its isolating force.

Faith came to me later that week with pictures from her holiday, pictures of her at the cottage, in the sea, lying under the sun, all taken with me in mind and all wonderful but useless now. Netta, lifeless and defiled, invaded my mind every time I looked at her.

She undressed me one evening, in the sitting room, and removed her own clothes, simply and without ceremony, slowly unveiling her beauty for me. She knelt before me, and all I could see was the image of Netta, damaged and used in the pit.

So, at my unexplained request, we slept in separate beds and I avoided her touch for the pain of the memory. Netta lived on in my mind when I was alone. I printed the series of pictures I’d taken of her in the hills, intending to produce a book. But the prints became mine and I wouldn’t share them with others; I didn’t deserve the acclaim they would bring. As long as I kept her mine, she would still be around and untouched.

Faith did her work and daily tried reaching toward me, but I couldn’t bear the pain of her disappointment.

Four weeks after we buried Netta, Faith came to me with tears flowing unchecked down her cheeks. She was desolate and needed comfort only I could give.

‘Eric’s dead. The doctor’s just phoned me.’

It did something to her, that news. She seemed to withdraw into herself, seemed to lose her will to reach me. The funeral, another that year, brought Zizi faithfully back up, this time to offer support and comfort to Faith.

And that night I took Zizi to my bed and fucked her and fucked her and fucked her all night.

‘Bastard, aren’t you, Leigh? I came to comfort Faith and you take advantage of me, instead. I’m glad I’ve been some use to you. I can’t hate you; I still love you too much. But I don’t like you, Leigh, I don’t like you one little bit.’

‘It’s because I love her I can’t…’

‘It’s because you love yourself too much, you selfish shit.’ And Zizi returned to London.

Faith rescued Bruce from certain death at the local vet’s and brought him, with my grudging acceptance, to Longhouse. Later that week, she found she would inherit the cottage that Eric had shared with her father. She and Bruce moved out of Longhouse the following day.

###

Impatient for the final chapters? You can buy the book, or someone could give you it as a Christmas present, 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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Read Breaking Faith, Free: Chapter 43

I suspect you’re already reading Breaking Faith, if you’ve come this far. We’re reaching the denouement, moving towards the end of the story now. So, I hope you 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 43

Friday 10th September

I spent the first part of the evening packing for my holiday, which I intended as a sort of retreat: a quiet time and space away from the madness of a world that seemed intent on making my life miserable. Perhaps Heacham had been right; perhaps I was wicked and was being punished for my rejection of his teachings. In my current turmoil, I couldn’t make up my mind on that or anything else.

A crofter’s cottage, on the edge of the ocean, seemed ideal. No telephone, no electricity, no television or radio. The nearest shop was the village post office stores, seven miles along a single-track road. It would be perfect.

Except that I had Dad’s dying wish; his gentle injunction to mate with more than one man before taking Leigh as my lifetime’s partner. It wasn’t a prospect I welcomed but it was Dad’s final request of me and therefore something I must do; something I felt compelled to do. The sooner I achieved it, the sooner I’d be free of that obligation and able to contemplate the life I still hoped might become mine.

Once I’d collected and packed all I needed to take with me, I found I still couldn’t settle. I wasn’t hungry and the prospect of dinner with Leigh and Netta looking at me, anxious and confused, wasn’t inviting.

I showered and returned to my room. The window was wide open and I let the air flow over my skin as I rested my elbows on the windowsill. The carved wren perched on its impossibly delicate legs on the log between my arms, its tiny pointed bill threatening to peck my breast. I picked it up and examined it. Old Hodge’s present meant the world to me. It represented real, unambiguous love and something solid and unchanging in a world that was in turmoil for me. There was within that small gift, so much care in a symbol of a natural world free of the complications human relationships seemed always to involve. I replaced it and continued my reverie at the window.

The wind changed and the air, although not cool, lost some of the heat it had borne for days.

My mind was full of all that had befallen me since I’d come to Longhouse. I was bursting with confusion and emotions I couldn’t identify, let alone express. I felt as though I must explode with anger, despair, frustration, desire, disgust and sheer perplexity if something didn’t release me soon.

I reviewed those things I could identify as changes, sources of anxiety or confusion, in the hope I might bring order to my chaotic world. But I found no consolation in the exercise. In fact, it seemed to intensify my negative feelings.

To add to my anxieties, now had come the news that Heacham’s trial was due and would prevent my holiday should I allow it.

I hadn’t been able to book my holiday through the travel agent where Leigh had bought my vouchers. Instead, I’d found private holiday accommodation, advertised in the Dalesman magazine. With a bit of gentle persuasion I might have exchanged the vouchers for money but that would have invited questions and, in any case, I might use those vouchers later to take Leigh with me on a holiday; somewhere warm, exotic and romantic.

So, I’d contacted the owner of the croft by phone, explained my situation and gained her agreement to accept cash on arrival. We would meet at the village and go to the croft together. She’d given me detailed instructions how to find the village, even explaining where to get the ferry for the crossing to the island and estimating my journey time so we could agree on a time for our meeting.

I must get away and be completely out of contact. This was an ideal way of ensuring my isolation and continued privacy whilst away. But I dreaded the arrival of a summons to appear at Heacham’s trial, knowing I couldn’t ignore such a legal requirement. I decided not to open the post in the morning and to ensure no one else could before I left for Scotland.

None of this helped relieve my internal pressure and turmoil. I still felt tight as a bowstring, felt something must trigger my release or I would snap and be utterly destroyed.

Thunder rumbled over the dark fells and I realized that night had fallen as I stood in contemplation. With the thunder came rain and, for one insane moment, I wanted to dash into the garden and let the torrent wash me clean of doubts and confusion. Lightening split the darkness, blinding me for a moment and moving me at last.

My back ached; my limbs were tense and stiff from my fixed position. I straightened up and stretched, swung my arms to bring life back into my hands and relieve the numbness in my elbows. As I brought my arms around in a full circle toward my body, my hand caught something hard and knocked it off the sill. It fell at my feet.

I crouched and, in the glow that entered through my partly open door from the landing, I saw I’d knocked Old Hodge’s birthday gift onto the floor. The wren had snapped from the log and lay as if dead beside it.

I felt rather than heard the cry of utter desolation that developed from breaking that symbol of love. The barrier to grief, to pent-up rage and disappointment, to unexpressed anxiety and confusion, to unrequited love was breached by that one cry. I fell to the floor and wept; sobbed my heart out and began, at last, to wash away my guilt and rage and grief.

Leigh came early in the cleansing process. I felt his warmth about me, his arms holding me, his hands using tissues to dab my eyes and nose. I heard his soft voice, full of concern, saying words with no meaning but comfort. And slowly I came through the first layer of my pain.

Exhausted, yet refreshed, I let him take me from the floor and lay me on my bed, his skin warm and gentle against mine.

‘Sleep now, Faith. Sleep and forget.’

I felt him move away as if he meant to leave. ‘Don’t go. I want you. I want you here.’ And he lay beside me on the bed, his body close to mine, his arms about me. He held me in a close embrace and made no sexual advance in spite of our nakedness.

The storm raged through the night about us but we were warm together, protected from its violence.

I felt safe in his arms. He was kind and gentle, holding me and stroking me for comfort, enclosing me within his soft embrace.

I wanted him to join with me. I wanted it and it was right. ‘I want you, Leigh. Please.’

I rolled to face him and he kissed my mouth, gently, for a long time our lips met and knew where they should go. When he moved away I wanted him to stay and kissed his mouth again. He guided me then, with his lips and tongue, showed me where the pleasure was, how to give and to receive. I learned quickly, desire uncovering what my body knew by instinct.

I stroked a hand along his back and felt him do the same, felt the feather touch of his palm and fingers on my willing skin. He kissed my face, my neck, my shoulders and I found my mouth seeking his skin to kiss in turn. We moved and he stroked one hand from my shoulder down the front of me across the space between my breasts and down my abdomen as far as the short hair that marked the space I wanted him to fill. He stroked on down and I moved my legs to give him access. He caressed the insides of my thighs in turn, brushing his fingers so softly against the lips of my divide that it was barely a touch at all, yet it brought such pleasure that it had me rising up to meet him. I stroked his back with one hand as the other sought new places to explore. I found his manhood. As my fingers touched and stroked and held him, he hardened and grew rigid and I knew that this part of him would enter me and penetrate my very centre.

His mouth moved to my lips and we kissed and tongued and mouthed each other in a passion that was in danger of overwhelming me. I knew I wanted him inside me and we were ready. He moved to kiss my breasts and took each nipple in between his lips in turn, sucking gently, tonguing the tips so my body arched in answer and I felt a new sensation deep inside me.

I took his manhood in my hand and guided it toward my moist divide. He led my hand from there and placed it on the firm curve of his bottom as he slowly found my entrance and explored me, the very tip discovering the magic nodule and touching it with such sweet softness that I gasped with the delight of it, my body filling with sensations of excitement and arousal.

He lingered there, caressing that one place with gentle strokes that sent ripples through my body, making every portion of my skin aware of touch and feeling, so that his lips on mine were sweet and warm and moist with love, his hands traced exquisite joy around my shoulder and my side. He moved the stroking hand along my body, caressing the curve of my breast, making my nipple rise to firmness as his fingertips encircled it, then whispering down my abdomen and gentling my hip as he slipped the palm beneath my rising buttock.

I held my breath as he drew the tip of his manhood along the length of my divide and found the willing, wanting opening. He put his lips over my mouth and tongued my tongue with his, nudging his way into my mouth as he entered my very centre. There was one brief instant of sharp pain and I was woman.

I encouraged him toward me with my hands cupping his buttocks and he thrust on past the fragile barrier and stroked into me until all was pleasure. I let him guide and show me. He kissed my mouth, my eyes, my cheeks, my ears. One hand played in my hair as his other taught me how to rise and fall with him, matching his slow movement so the base of his hard manhood touched against my magic spot and caused the growing sense of wonder to pervade my entire body. I was alive in every cell of being, every touch was pure delight, my hands discovered his delicious body, stroked his back, his arms, his beautiful firm bottom as he rose and fell above me. I spread my thighs a little wider to heighten the touch of him on my most sensitive part. He responded, moving higher up my body and gentling my bottom with the hand beneath. We moved together, rising, falling, breathing the same air and oblivious to everything that was not the single being we had formed.

The pleasure filling me grew and grew as he moved within me. It built in waves of pure enjoyment until my body pulsed with wonder and I cried aloud in joy. He let that climax take its course and moved within me, matching my pulsating pleasure as it slowly faded. Then he moved more deeply within me, thrusting his whole length of manhood deep inside me, in and out, the tip almost leaving me but returning to my depths as he plunged into my centre and touched again that heightened point of pure sensation. I held him to me, my hands moving with his body as he thrust inside me, feeling pleasure building once again, raising my hips to meet his thrusting, plunging delicious movement. He took the hand from my shoulder, drew it down my side and slipped it underneath my bottom with the other so he held me to him. Still he moved within me powerful and strong with desire and love.

I felt another wave of climax breaking over me and ecstasy discovered me as we became one with wave following resounding wave through my body from my centre to the very tips of all my being. I felt his force burst deep within me, felt the throb of his life, his being, merging with my own and we both cried out in wonder and delight as amazement surged and we became a single joyous unity of love and pleasure and delicious exultation.

Slowly we descended from that high, that other plane of being, into a soft gentle world of self-awareness. I had never felt so whole, so utterly complete, so wondrously at one with me. He stayed within me, gently moved his hands to take his weight onto his elbows, stroked my head and neck and shoulders with his fingers.

We kissed, softly, slowly, lingering as we caught our breath. My hands caressed his back, his head, his ears, his arms. We gazed at one another in the dim light from the open door.

The storm returned to us and we knew then it had raged and thundered as we loved, had rained as it still did, had strobed our glowing bodies with its lightening flashes as we moved.

I felt the gentle echo of the climax as my centre clasped the relaxing stem of him inside me in a soft rhythmic reminder of the waves of passion that had ruled me.

There were no words to say what I felt. I could say just one phrase to describe it. ‘I love you, Leigh’

He nodded in the dim light and I saw his eyes were full of wonder. ‘I promised I would never say these words unless I meant them. I love you, Faith. I love you absolutely and without conditions.’

It was enough for us just then. Practicality dictated we must part but reluctance to accept that made us stay together until moisture from our love began to leak from me and I gently urged him move and give me tissues. I smiled, recalling the garden scene with Netta, knowing now what she’d felt as I had teased her. Even her intrusion to my thoughts didn’t diminish my delight.

Leigh lay beside me, one arm round my shoulders as I lay my head upon his slowly moving chest. ‘Did it hurt?’

‘Very briefly, very little. You made me woman tonight. The pleasure was amazing. I feel wonderful. I love you.’

‘I love you, Faith.’

We spoke no more; satiation stealing passion from us so we slept.

###

If you're impatient for the next chapter, you can buy the book in paperback 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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