Read My Novel, Free: Chapter 17

Still here? Is that stubbornness or are you actually enjoying this process, this story? I hope so.

I posted Chapter 1 on 13 January. Following chapters appear each Friday. Find them via the archive.

Missed the start? Find it here: http://stuartaken.blogspot.com/2012/01/read-free-my-novel-here.html

Read, enjoy, invite friends to join us.

Chapter 17

Monday 19th April

She gathered up her letters and put them in the box. With a fingertip, she touched her swollen lips then brushed it lightly against my mouth before going to bed. Her gesture touched me and I wondered where she’d learned it.

Her eye re-opened and her mouth was able to smile properly after a few days. She was almost back to normal by the time they released Heacham on bail. Now convinced she knew nothing of Hope’s rapes, I was surprised when the coppers came to interview her.

She emerged tearful and shamed from those two long hours. I hadn’t been allowed to witness the interview but heard occasional raised voices and, just once, Faith’s loud protestation of her innocence. They preferred no charges. I wanted to tell her it was okay and to comfort her but Paul’s warning held me back. I risked harming her if I allowed us to get too close so soon after her trauma.

Instead, I sent her for a calming coffee with Ma. Ten minutes later, she was in the office, smart, professional and ready for work. Merv came in with an order and leered at her. He took a more carnal interest in Faith now she lived at Longhouse and was fleshing out her bones. He nodded at the disappearing police car. ‘Dunno what all the fuss is about. Old sod onny shagged ‘er. Not like he killed ‘er or beat her up, is it? Onny sex, innit? So what, I say.’

‘Thanks, Merv, for your considered and erudite opinion. Those of us who have a spark of morality think it’s inexcusable for a father to rape his disabled daughter. I do, of course, respect your right to an opinion. Just don’t express it in here! Get out, now!’

Faith struggled hard to contain tears that were close to the surface. She gave me a faint flicker of a smile as Merv went. ‘Thank you, Leigh.’

I gave her what I hoped was a friendly smile without too much encouragement. It was hard to strike a balance between the role of friendly boss and potential lover. My relationships with women had always been straightforward and the questions of sex were only ‘when?’, and ‘how often?’ The new territory was difficult terrain for me but I was determined to travel it if it brought Faith to some sort of normality. On the surface, she seemed much recovered and I had to keep reminding myself of Paul’s injunctions to prevent kidding myself all she wanted was for me to show her I cared and wanted her.

Faith broke into my thoughts. ‘You haven’t forgotten Marilynn’s due this afternoon?’

‘The waitress from York.’

‘Will you need me?’

‘No idea until she arrives. I’d like to continue the series for the book on housework if she’s game. And I’ll probably take her into the studio for a couple of hours. I’ll need your assistance if she feels more comfortable with another woman about. You okay for that?’

‘Why shouldn’t I be? I don’t suppose you’ll be alone in bed tonight.’

‘No idea, Faith. Depends on her. Don’t know why you’re so arch about it when you’re in the best position to ...’ I was growing tired of her digs at my sex life, but this wasn’t the reaction she needed.

‘Will she be staying for the weekend?’

‘No idea. Why?’

‘I just thought I might invite my mother and Charity… Netta over and I was hoping...’

So, perhaps I’d been mistaken. Perhaps it wasn’t jealousy, after all. I felt sorry for my misjudgement and tried to make it up. ‘Invite them. I’ll make sure Marilynn’s not here if they accept.’ To be honest, I was doubtful she’d stay that long anyway.

‘Not expecting her to stay, then.’

I intended a stinging reply because she’d guessed too accurately, and found myself instead attracted by her gently mocking smile, captivated by her growing beauty. Her face was now unmarked and her hair hung loose in soft waves that dropped over her shoulders. It was a pretty face; serious and contemplative much of the time, with a generous mouth and lips that promised much, especially when she smiled. Her eyes had always affected me, right from the first meeting; those deep, dark, sparkling orbs. And such a pretty shape to her face; the small, strong jaw, high cheekbones and slender nose. She hadn’t yet learned to pluck the weight from her dark eyebrows but their natural curves drew attention to those lovely eyes.

Her high forehead spoke of intelligence and, except at times of deep anxiety, was unmarked by furrows. Tiny ears hid amongst the dark tresses, unpierced and undecorated by jewellery. She wore no makeup but her natural colour was soft peach and her lips a healthy, inviting red.

A very attractive woman and one who would be capable, did she but know how, of twisting me round her little finger.

‘That attractive?’

I hadn’t realised I’d been staring at her so obviously. For some extraordinary reason, I blushed like a schoolboy caught at some forbidden act.

She rose quickly and put her arms around my neck, kissed me softly but briefly on my mouth. ‘Leigh, you’re amazing. A really lovely man.’ Then she sat down again and continued with her work.

I felt outsmarted, somehow; outmanoeuvred, as if I’d been playing a game I should win but had been caught out by a change in the rules. Ma called us for lunch, removing my need to find an excuse to leave the office so I could compose myself.

Marilynn arrived almost immediately after the meal and proved willing to do more or less what I wanted and was happy to work without a chaperone.

Afterwards, I watched her saunter to her battered old car and drive off, leaving the gate wide open behind her. Once I’d seen the results, I would decide whether to invite her for a return trip. I wouldn’t be inviting her back for the sex alone; she’d been okay for the night but with a tendency to sexual selfishness I found unattractive. In the meantime, Faith’s mother and sister were due on Saturday and I was looking forward to meeting them almost as much as she was.

Ma was sixty-five the day Marilynn left. She did her own birthday tea, in spite of my protests and Faith’s offer to do it for her.

‘I enjoy cooking. I like preparing food and keeping house for you, Leigh. And now I’ve got Faith here as well, it’s like having a proper family. I’ve got a son and a daughter to care for. No. You get on with your work the pair of you, and let me do mine.’

I never knew what to buy Ma, and Old Hodge was no help, declaring she only ever wanted his body. Faith, however, seemed to know exactly what Ma wished for and delighted her with a gift of Belgian chocolates.

‘When and how did you manage to buy those?’

She just grinned. It must have been the trip into Hawes the previous weekend when I’d taken her to buy some new clothes, but I didn’t recall seeing them myself. For someone as inexperienced at shopping as she was, Faith had developed a remarkable nose for finding the right gift.

We opened a couple of good bottles, Ma’s choice, and had a quiet but enjoyable family birthday. I did insist that she and Old Hodge leave earlier than usual and promised to load the dishwasher myself for a change.

On Thursday night, I stayed with Abdullah after one of my regular sessions at his factory. His attitude to women appalled me but I couldn’t help liking the bugger.

He rarely left me alone to do a job, but hovered in the background. I’d made the mistake of allowing him to remain on site when I did my first job for him. That had been an advertising shot combining a glamorous model with the heavy machinery he manufactured. With no changing facilities, the girl had reluctantly changed on the set. Abdullah had been so entranced by the sight of her naked that he’d doubled her fee on the spot and in cash.

I had to make it very clear that her body was not for sale for sex. She was a professional model; not at all like many of the amateurs I used for my own work. But Abdullah, in common with so many who don’t know the game, automatically equated her willingness to shed her clothes with a wish to engage in sex. It was a willingness she didn’t possess.

I was half way through Thursday’s shoot, this one without the added glamour since the shot was for the Islamic market, when he asked me to take a few shots of his latest woman. I didn’t welcome the prospect as Abdullah had a penchant for women with ugly faces.

‘For me? Yah, you do it for me, Leigh? Please, yah?’

I nodded. The machinery was going nowhere. A half hour break for his girl would keep him sweet as a client with plenty of spending power.

He brought her in. Tall, willowy with large firm breasts that seemed too big for her slender frame to support. She was slim hipped and walked elegantly on slender shapely legs that went up to her armpits. The face, however, belonged to a donkey and was a cruel jest played by a Creator who I had long judged uninterested in what was created. She was holding something in her hand and, once she’d shed her clothes, she slipped a brown paper bag over her head.

I could have wept for her but the pathos was lost on Abdullah who saw this as a huge joke and urged me to picture her as she was. She went along with his wishes, weaving her sensual body into erotic and pornographic poses. I colluded, shooting the variations on this sick sideshow. When I’d done, she removed the bag and curtseyed with extraordinary dignity. I caught the deep sadness in those grey hooded eyes and, for a brief moment, communed my sympathy in silence. She nodded just once, dressed quickly and walked from the room with her paper bag in one hand.

‘Don’t dust the mantelpiece as you stoke the fire, eh, Leigh?’

It was all I could do to nod briefly before returning to the machinery. I wondered at the hypocrisy that allowed him to view such pictures whilst insisting on everything being correct for the advertising in his homeland. Money, of course, was what drove his public adherence to cultural and religious rules he ignored in private.

That evening, she was in his home in diaphanous gold over skin and playing the perfect hostess, without the bag. The woman he’d obtained for me wore a red microskirt and transparent white blouse. She had an adequate body and a face to match and did her best to provide the service she thought I desired. It was professional, enthusiastic even, but without warmth and left me feeling unclean. I was happy to escape the house early next morning to return to Longhouse.

I walked into the office to discover Faith on her feet, red in the face, shouting at Merv who was lurking in the doorway from the studio. He was too slow to cover the object that had caused Faith’s anger and I knew I had stormy waters to calm.

I clouted his ear. ‘Idiot!’ And pushed him out of earshot. ‘You know how easily offended she is. What are you trying to prove?’

‘Asked for it. Called me a pervert, it did. Said I was no use for nowt. I were just offerin’ to show it what I could do if it liked.’

I shook my head. He would never accept that women found him repulsive and his behaviour made them loathe him.

‘Why’s it think it’s for if it ain’t for fuckin’? It’s got that; I got this to stick up it. Why’s it think it’s any different from the rest?’

It was pointless even attempting to argue. If he hadn’t been so good in the darkroom, I would have ditched him the day I took him on. ‘Just don’t do it, Merv. Whatever your reasons, don’t do it. Okay?’

‘Yeah. Don’t know why it’s so up-fuckin-tight, though.’

‘No, I don’t suppose you do, Merv.’

Faith had calmed by the time I returned. Keen to get past the incident with Merv, I told her I’d given him a rocket and moved swiftly to a topic I knew would engage her. ‘Ready for this evening?’

‘Terrified.’

I hugged her and she fell willingly enough into my arms. The difference between that warm, chaste embrace and the professional efficiency of the previous night was astounding. I wondered, again, what the key might be to freeing her up enough to take her that one step further. And then remembered I wasn’t supposed to be thinking about her in that way just yet. I went to change. Her mother and sister should be women I could enjoy straight away and I wanted to meet them at my best.

###

You've come so far it's unlikely you'll stop until the end. But, just in case you're impatient for the next chapter, you know where you can buy the book. If you do, please write a review and post it wherever you can - Amazon, Goodreads, any other bookish site. Reviews are what get indie published books noticed, you see.

Tweet with me on Twitter: http://twitter.com/@stuartaken
Like my author page on Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/StuartAken

My website has links to 100s of other sites of interest: http://stuartaken.co.uk

Read on Goodreads:  http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4234877.Stuart_Aken

Stumble with me: http://www.stumbleupon.com/stumbler/stuartaken

Come Digg with me: http://digg.com/stuartaken

Pin with me here: http://pinterest.com/stuartaken/

Buy my ebooks via Smashwords: http://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/stuartaken

11 May 1997 - Gary Kasparov, World Chess Champion, was beaten by an IBM computer. Was this the first stirring or artificial intelligence?

Read My Novel, Free: Chapter 10.

If you've come this far, you don't need me blathering on with stuff you already know. Enjoy the read.

But, if you missed the start, here's the link to it: http://stuartaken.blogspot.com/2012/01/read-free-my-novel-here.html

Chapter 1 appeared on 13 January and following chapters appear each Friday. You can find them via the archive.

Read, enjoy, invite your friends.

Chapter 10

When she first came into my life, Faith was just a rather idiosyncratic young woman with only the cheapness of her labour and her excellent office skills to commend her. She was pretty in a waifish way but not the sort of woman I sought. But, then, there were those eyes and her baffling innocence.

Over the few weeks she’d worked for me, she’d learned rapidly and well. She quickly took all the finishing tasks out of my own and Merv’s hands. She organized the office and me so efficiently that I never missed an appointment or ran out of stock and, if I couldn’t find an item of equipment, she always knew where it was.

But there was more than work to Faith. Her curiosity, once beyond her father’s boundaries, was endless. She was so eager to learn about everything, it was like having a bright, attractive and well-behaved child about the house. She read voraciously; responding enthusiastically to my invitation to use the library, which Uncle Fred and I had spent much time, energy and money in stocking with a broad-based selection of books.

She’d grown in confidence and this was reflected in the way she now held herself. No longer the round shoulders and stooping walk, no longer the shuffle of shame. She was upright and open. Her face had taken on a semi-permanent half smile, as if she was pleased with everything she saw. And this smile lightened her face and brought a sparkle to those glorious eyes that were so deep I feared I might drown in them. She’d started to put on weight now she was no longer walking miles every day. And the new flesh was distributing itself with real promise. She was on the way to becoming a very attractive woman.

Her dowdy clothes I now knew she wore not from choice but the meanness of Heacham. The trip to York gave me an excuse to do something about that by introducing her to the pleasures of buying and wearing fashionable clothes.

As we left the car park and set off down the broad path beside the river, she was alive with interest, keen to notice everything about her. I wanted to take her hand, to be in contact with this strange, captivating young woman. It just seemed right. She would reject such intimacy, regardless of how innocent it might be. The irony amused me: I’d shared much greater intimacy with so many women without fear of rejection.

‘Why the smile?’

‘I’d like to hold your hand and I was wondering why I find it so difficult to ask you, when I’ve touched every naked inch of so many women.’

‘Why?’

No reference to my inexplicable difficulty, no argument or condemnation regarding the other women. Just a simple demand to know my reason for wanting to hold her hand; the very aspect of the situation I found most difficult to understand myself.

‘I don’t know. It seems the natural thing to do with you.’

‘You’re being remarkably honest, Leigh.’

‘Perhaps you’re rubbing off on me.’

‘Careful. Honesty can be dangerous.’

‘Now you’re teasing me.’

‘I’m not sure about the hands. It sounds harmless enough and I expect I’d enjoy it. Let me see if I can tell what that sort of contact means in society.’

‘Are you always so analytical before you make contact? It’d be hard bloody work making love with you if you are.’ I’d said it without thinking, without knowing I thought it. That I spoke in terms of making love rather than having sex was disturbing.

‘If analysis will save me from your rapacious intent, Leighton Longshaw, I’ll use it for the foreseeable future.’

There was no malice, no blame in her response, but she meant it and I knew I’d blown my chance for now.

We reached Lendall Bridge and climbed the flagged slope to reach the road. I took her to a café I’d visited previously and chose a window seat so she could watch the people go by. The waitress was new, from the uni, but one of my previous conquests tipped her off and she smiled a welcome as she brought the menu. I gave her the benefit of an encouraging smile before turning my attention to Faith and the list of items on the printed card.

We ordered my cappuccino and Faith’s Yorkshire tea and, after my reminder that she had agreed to be treated, a cream cake each. The waitress was positively coquettish as she took the order, her gentian eyes finding mine and remaining locked there. I watched her glide across the floor on shapely pins encased in sheer black nylon and automatically assessed her potential as a model.

Faith was absorbed in the doings of the various people both inside and outside the café and was unaware of the exchange between the waitress and me. She was happy observing the activity and I felt slightly put out by her lack of attention to me.

We drank and ate in companionable silence, Faith’s only comment that the tea was good and the cream cake delicious. Another first for her; one of many that day.

When the waitress brought the bill, she was so intent on me, she failed to notice the slip of paper drifting from her saucer. It floated to the floor where Faith picked it up. Before I could stop her, she’d unfolded it.

‘This can’t be right! That’s far too much for two drinks and two cakes!’

The waitress was startled out of her reverie and detached herself from my eyes to glare at Faith. My hand hid the smile as I gently took the bill. I topped the cash on the saucer with one of my special business cards bearing a brief message inviting contact, if desired, as I felt the recipient had potential for modelling. She glanced at the card and nodded. As I steered Faith from the café, the other diners followed our exit with faces full of surprise or scorn.

‘My fault, Faith. I forget just how little you know about society and shopping. The price was fine. We could’ve gone somewhere cheaper but the tea and coffee would’ve been poor and the cakes wouldn’t have been half as nice.’

‘I bet the waitresses wouldn’t be so pretty or liberated either. You could see their breasts through their blouses.’

‘Could you? I never noticed…’

‘Of course you didn’t, Leigh.’

I gave her my wounded look but she saw through that so I grinned and shrugged. ‘A word of advice, though. It’s not English to complain loudly in public. We don’t do it. We call this cowardice “reserve” and the rest of the world expects it of us, which is why we are so surprising overseas, where we complain loudly about everything and nothing. So, for today, I’d prefer you not to voice your opinions on cost, and any other contentious matters, until we’ve left the shop. Okay?’

‘I’m your willing and obedient servant, Leighton Longshaw.’

‘That’ll be the day. Come on, little Miss Outspoken, let’s find that typewriter. Then I’m going to do some serious spoiling.’

‘Aren’t things that are spoilt, ruined?’

‘You need spoiling. Time you had a bit of unbridled pleasure and fun.’ I made the comment in jest, of course, but Faith considered it with real seriousness.

‘Perhaps you’re right, Leigh. Perhaps I ought to indulge a little, if only so I’ve a better idea of what I’m talking about when I criticize it in others.’

I cupped her elbow and steered her into the office supplies shop without a word. For all that I understood how she could say such a thing, I couldn’t trust myself to reply generously to a comment like that.

###

You've come this far, so it's unlikely you'll stop now. But, just in case you're impatient for the next chapter, you know where you can buy the book.

Web site: http://stuartaken.co.uk
Tweet with me: http://twitter.com/@stuartaken
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/StuartAken

Penny Grubb, Crime Writer Extaordinaire, Book Signings.

Penny Grubb who I've interviewed here, and whose books, I have also reviewed, has her previous three hardback novels now issued as paperbacks. They are, of course, available from all the usual online outlets and from high street retailers. But for those who live in England, she is doing a book-signing tour of WH Smith shops, and in some of these (maybe all) the three novels are available as a 3 book deal for £15.00, which, I assure you, is a damned good bargain.

Like False Money



The Jawbone Gang

The Doll Makers











are the three titles, featuring Annie Raymond, her Private Investigator.

Signings at WH Smith as follows:

17 Dec Hull, Prospect Centre - 12.00 - 2.00

17 Dec Hull, Kingswood - 2.30 - 4.30

If you live locally or are visiting on the dates, pop in to see Penny. She's a lovely lady and a super writer.