Chapter 59

Berwick Street Market in Soho

The "Street of Silk Stockings" was much quieter on Sundays. Less punters were on a lookout for a bargain on a day which by definition was dedicated to rest and... football. Whereas the pubs were heaving with people, not as many frequented the market stalls and it was up to the individual seller whether they wanted to open their stalls or not.

Alice was there. It was a rare event for her to actually open her stall on a Sunday. The past few days were not her usual, run-of-the-mill days however. Having known Charlie's plans about Christian and her confrontation with him at his flat a couple of days ago - the fact that he had finally sussed out she had a crush on him - did make her to seek ways to keep her mind occupied. Charles MacDonald did not fail and neither did he give up on something he had decided. And if he had decided that Christian was someone that could harm him more than being an asset, then it wouldn't be long before they'd find him lying dead in a ditch.

She was observing the people passing by while the girl who was helping her, was arranging some of the merchandise on the stall.

"Don't shout, don't act surprised and don't think to ask for help, you're done for." She heard a whisper of a man's voice by her ear and felt a poke on her side. She hadn't even realised someone had approached her from her right. She froze and glanced down. The grey metal of a switch blade was pointing just below her ribcage. She nodded.

"Ask your girl to pack up the stall. You don't feel that good. Walk away. Don't think of doing anything stupid." He ordered her, with his voice coming through his clenched teeth.

She couldn't but do exactly as she was told. There wasn't anyone next to her when she asked Marie to close the stall. She felt ill all of a sudden. Perhaps something she had eaten. She was to just go home and lie down. Nothing to worry about. She took her bag and left. Walked the length of Berwick street, wanting so much to look back and not daring. She felt as tense as a taut rope.

She felt a bump on her right shoulder. She resisted the urge to jump, having been wound up, as tight as a spring ready to be released. "Turn here on your right." She heard the voice once again. She clutched her bad with her hand. Wondered whether she can swing it towards her abductor when she found a quiet spot.

They kept walking, her at front, him close behind her. The area with the stalls had ended. She saw some cars parked. That was her chance. She grabbed her bag but she was caught by the man before she had the chance to put her plan into action. She cursed through her teeth. He had grabbed her arm. Led her to the passenger side. Put her hands into handcuffs. He could see the rage inside her eyes. He pushed her inside the car while she squirmed and resisted going in. But he was stronger and she hadn't forgotten he also had a knife, thought he hadn't showed it again.

"Christian had warned me, you'd put up a fight." He said, sounding out of breath but glad he had already been informed by his friend.

He was behind the wheel. Took out of the glove compartment, a pair of racing goggles. He slipped them over her head and covered her eyes with them. He noticed her angered disapproval.

He saw the gold locket hanging from her neck. Grabbed it and pulled it. She jerked her body, realising what he did. Cursed him. Wished him to drop dead and go to hell. Her anger was something to be reckoned with. Having mentioned Christian's name, had acted as throwing oil over the fire.

Alice Diamond was one feisty gal! The reports about her weren't lying.

"I'm afraid, you won't be able to see any of the scenery but I'm on orders." The man said, explaining how she wouldn't be able to see where they were going, wearing those glasses that Christian had painted over the lenses. She could tell he was smiling.

The man saw someone approaching from his car mirror. Rolled the window down and gave him the chain. Alice's words reached his ears before he left.

"Tell your friend, he'll pay for this."

He smiled and walked away. Alice's abductor turned the engine on, and then the wheel.

"You can tell him yourself, when you see him." He replied.

Alice was fuming. Oh, there was no doubt about that. She'd let him have it. In fact, while the car sped up towards an unknown destination, she started planning what she'd say and do once she came face to face with that arrogant ass she had the misfortune of meeting in her life.

The day had passed by without him realising it. Even if his body managed to function, taking him from one pub to the other, his steps becoming heavier and increasingly unsteady as the hours disappeared inside the empty glasses and the crushed cigarettes on the ashtrays, his mind had firmly stuck on that half opened door. To her naked breast, the kisses, hungry with lust, how his lips grazed her nipple. Every single detail played in his mind, blown up, magnified a hundred times.

No matter how much he set down into a wormhole of alcohol, with no intention of coming back, praying to lose himself, forget who he was, who she was, where they were, what had happened, erase everything, everything, everything... he couldn't do it. Every single, fucking detail would come back with a vengeance, triggered by the slightest sound, word or look or just a thought, half drowned but still alive getting the chance to illuminate the images in his mind like a torch he strived to extinguish by copious amount of drink.

He didn't stay long to any place. A couple, perhaps three drinks to each pub. Just enough to be warranted he'd get them, just enough before they'd tell him "no more".

The betrayal of his feelings was the one he couldn't swallow. How she had played him, acknowledging she too had feelings for him after having his question hung in the air like something she had hoped he'd forget. Had he angered her so much by declaring to her he wanted her completely for himself, she had to go and fuck in plain view with Christian? He really could not comprehend it, he couldn't wrap his mind round it.

For one thing she had been right though. She had changed. She had moved on and had killed Candy on the way. Because that woman he had loved and the one he watched while her body was pressed, groped and stroked by another man weren't the same. Had he been selfish? Of course he had. For ten years, his love for her existed inside him in the most subtle of ways. Equal to his ability to breath. A function we don't stop and think consciously how important it is for keeping oneself alive but take a lung out and you'll certainly will know. That is how his love for Candy was too. Without thinking it every day that passed, it was still there, coursing inside his body, hidden in his mind and soul, ready, like a seedling to take up roots and grow when the chance came.

When Susanna died, after his initial grief died down, slowly he had let his thoughts of her become more indulgent in their nature. Every time adding more and more details.

What would have happened if...

Imagining he'd stumble by chance into her in the streets of New York. Inviting her for dinner, she'd graciously accept. They would dine and catch up on their lives. Brooding stares and fleeting glances between them. The brushing of fingers on his hand, the blushing on her cheeks, the warmth of the wine in her eyes. He'd escort her at her hotel... or better still, ask her for a nightcap at his home. Their lovemaking would have been emotional, sensual, slow, words would lose themselves inside moans, flesh will be grasped by hungry fingers, each thrust and groan erasing the years they lost, bringing them together.

Sometimes he'd wonder whether she'd be incognito inside the audience. Watching him. He'd feel the fire in his loins just with the thought of her watching him, safe in the knowledge he wouldn't know about it. His performance excelled on nights like those, latching on the chance she could be there.

All those thoughts propelled him to cross the ocean for her. The ocean was nothing compared with the ten year uncertainty. In his thoughts, he had carefully glossed over the possibility that ten years down the line, she could have been a different woman. She was a girl when they separated. He was just a lad on the cusp of adulthood. Finding their feet, before fate clipped their wings.

He should have left her alone when they met. Should have more control over his heart. Instead he let her pull all of his strings. Strung by hope she felt something for him still. His ego blinded him. Whereas he hadn't let an inch in his heart available for any other woman in his life, she had let hers free, wide open for someone else to take. It pained him like a hot iron on his skin to think about it. Even if he - all the while he was in London - looked at it with a rational mind, he acted

- oh he was so good in acting -

cool and ok about it, as much as he could,

even letting someone else to get close to him in his attempt to paint this painful situation with some normalcy and maturity he wished he had mustered after ten years apart,

still when he broke down,

the fact that she had chosen Christian over him, raged inside him like a fire that burned everything in its course.

Step by step, his thoughts of her pulled him closer and closer, till it was early evening when he found himself in front of her door.

He stood there, eyes glazed behind the drinks he had lost count how many they had been, breathing in and out, looking as if he wanted to solve a great mystery, when all he was trying was to understand why he was standing there.

All he wanted was to talk to her. A compelling need to talk. Have her say on his face, it was Christian the man she wanted. That's how much a masochist he felt being right now. Despite not being able to think clearly he pressed the bell and waited.

Wherever the man was taking Alice, it had been a long way out of London. There wasn't much she could have talked about with her abductor, or better put - Christian's friend - and all of her questions were answered with a yes or a no, at least those that could be answered.

The tension she had felt at the beginning had been transformed into anger which fuelled her thoughts of retribution. Who could have thought he was? A mediocre burglar with fantasies of Robin Hood. Hah!

The Raven my arse

She wondered how he had evaded the police for so long. He had been sloppy, not careful at all. But then again, dear Christian had been in love. The Raven had turned into a Nightingale, interested only into singing to his mate.

Pff! He messed up with the wrong woman.

Thoughts, after thoughts of vengeance, thinking all the ways she could get back at him for abducting her and God knows where he was taking her. For what? For having helped him. For having warned him about Charlie? Who by the way would have been even angrier than she was. Christian seemed to have suicidal tendencies. Her eyelids behind those darkened goggles felt heavier and heavier, till she drifted into a sleep of such scheming dreams that the Borgias would have been envious of.

She felt a jolt and her body jerked forward. Her eyelids opened.

"Are we here at last?" She asked. Her voice croaked from the sleep.

"We are." The man said and came out of the car.

"About fucking time. My arse got numb." She complained.

He came around and opened the door for her. Helped her to get out. She stood opposite him. The air smelt green and damp. All she could hear was the rustling sound of the wind through trees and bird songs. He took the goggles from her eyes. She squinted, getting used to the bright sunlight. She looked around. They had stopped by the side of a country road, at the edge of a forest. She turned and looked at him, her brow having climbed on her forehead in a surprised position.

He didn't bother with explanations. Christian had asked him to keep communication to minimum. "We better get going. There is a bit of trekking to do." He took her by the arm and pushed her forward. She started walking.

"Where exactly are we going?" She asked him.

"All in good time."

"If you're about to snuff me out, you could have used less energy pal."

He didn't respond. They started going inside the forest.

"You better kill me, if you ask me." She said again, feeling the frustration in her stomach. The hands still handcuffed, had started to hurt, the way the metal rubbed on her wrists. "I never forget a face, you know."

The path they had taken, was leading them deep inside the forest. Despite being midday, most of the sun had been blocked out. The smell of damp soil was permeating the cool air. She started wondering whether this man had orders from Christian to just leave her there.

"Do we have to walk long still?" She asked him.

"Not that far now." He replied.

"Where are we by the way?" She asked again.

"Very far away from London." He replied again.

She was looking around her. Alice had never left London in her life. Born and bred at Elephant & Castle, she was very much a London gal. This was as foreign as being in another planet for her. It unsettled her. There was an eerie silence she wasn't used to it. On top of it, she started to feel cold and claustrophobic. Once they came down the slope and walked some further distance, the path ended. They walked some more, towards an unknown destination. Even if she tried to put mental points while they walked, even having that path to aid her sense of direction, she gave up after a while, feeling complete lost.

Finally, they arrived at a small clearing of the forest. There was this stone cottage. Given how unaccustomed her eyes were in such an environment, she hadn't seen it from the distance. The little cottage was blending perfectly with their surroundings.

She turned and looked at the man. He took her by the arm and they walked towards the door. While holding her, he pulled a key out of his pocket and opened the door. They went in.

The main room was clean and very modest, having just a table with four chairs and a couple of rather old armchairs facing the cold fireplace. There was a stove and a few pans. A big weathered rug covered the wooden floor closer to the fireplace.

"There is also a bedroom, toilet on the side. Pretty basic." The man said without bothering to show her around.

She turned around and looked at him, equally bemused as she was annoyed, to put it mildly.

"Don't ask me, I won't explain. I was only asked to bring you here." The man said.

"I see."

She pointed her handcuffs to him. He looked at them and then at her. She sensed he was reluctant to take them off. "Even if I jumped on you and killed you, I doubt I would know how to return back." She reassured him.

He bit his lips, as if giving it a further thought and then walked towards her. He took her hands into his and unlocked the handcuffs. Once out of them, she rubbed her wrists, her eyes fixed to her captor. He seemed to know that she was trying to hatch some plan, because he took the blade out. "I suggest you keep calm and let me explain how it'll go now."

She glanced at the knife and back at him before she crossed her arms over her chest. "OK then, explain."

"There's some cans of food at the cupboard next to the stove."

"There's also some chopped wood in the basket; matches are on the fireplace."

"The rest, I'm afraid you'll have to wait for Christian."

To his name, her eyebrows jumped up. "Ah! He will come here too?!" She could just picture him coming in through that door, her behind it, ready to attack. If lucky, she could kill him. She'd waste a fine specimen of a man, but just hearing his name right now, made her blood boil to the point of blowing her lid off. She'd count the minutes for his arrival.

"Did he say, when he'll be here?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "He'll be here when he plans to be."

He looked around one last time and then back to her. "For your information, the door will be locked."

"Screw you."

Nicholas stared at her for a minute. "Charmed to meet you too, Alice." He said, opened the door, left and locked it behind it.

Candy had returned to her home for a few hours already. After having realised that Christian had left her and then meeting with Abigail Fowler, finding about Terry and Christian...

They were

They are

brothers

Her world shifted dramatically, its axis having moved from their place - an event as incomprehensible but true, final and unmovable... Wasn't it almost like the time she had found about Susanna?

She had to remind herself to breath. She kept busy and still, she had found herself wiping silent tears wherever she was at any moment. In her bedroom, in the kitchen, in the garden. There was nowhere to hide, no place where she could reverse time, erase the knowledge from her mind.

If only she had said yes to Terry yesterday night... if only she hadn't met Christian at all... the thoughts she entertained in her mind didn't have logic, neither coherence. They were all over the place. She had left Terry ten years ago. Uprooted him from her life in the space of a winter night. And yet he had never left her. How could she tell him that Christian, the man that was her lover up till now, is also his brother.

She relived every single occasion, talk, gesture. Started comparing them in everything. In physical terms; their characters. Both with very painful upbringings. Both artistic, sensitive, needing to expresses their feeling through a medium. The theatre stage for one, the canvas for the other. Both intense, passionate. Both having a part they held close and personal, without revealing it, even to her. Terry's more the quiet one, the withdrawn but mercurial and unpredictable. Christian, outgoing, pleasure seeking, thrill chaser, sharp tongued.

Terry had taken more of Eleanor's features, his face being more refined, his skin a shade of alabaster white with full red lips, high cheekbones and eyes like the seas in the tropics, while Christian, as she had noticed at the theatre, took more from the Duke, with his features being stronger, the long straight nose, the angular jaw, deep set clear grey eyes.

The day had passed without her realising where the time had gone. She walked as quiet as a ghost inside her home. She had put the BBC radio on. Soft jazz was playing. The storm inside her head was raging; she welcomed the distraction of the music in the background.

The door bell startled her. She rushed to open with a mind full, not taking time to ask who it was. She came face to face with Terry. Her heart jumped and beat so strong she thought it would break her ribcage. This was most unexpected. She felt a spell of dizziness from rushing to open the door, finding Terry there; she tightened the grip of her hand on the door handle.

He was leaning on the wall having his arm stretched, supporting his body, while he kept the other in his pocket. The sound of the door opening, broke the trance his thoughts had created. He pulled his head up; his eyes came into direct contact with Candy's wide and surprised stare. He noticed her abrupt nervousness straight away,

she wasn't expecting him...

her readiness to answer the door instigated to him that she was expecting someone...

only not him...

and that made the anger he felt to spread, like a gust of hot wind.

He half smiled at her. "You should ask before you answer the door. It's not always who you're expecting." He said, sounding dry and hoarse.

His name left like a whisper from her lips. She could tell he wasn't sober.

"You weren't expecting me at your front door, but you're the one person I wanted to see." He said back to her, waging his finger to her.

"What do you want Terry?" She managed to ask him, in an effort to compose herself.

He straightened his body. Her defensive stand irritated him. "Am I not allowed to visit you? Our parting was so abrupt last night. I wondered if you had a good time." He said, his eyes scrutinising her every reaction.

She didn't move. She was lost for words. In fact it would be not wrong to say, she looked as if she had seen a ghost. She squeezed her fingers on the door frame. She was hesitant to let him in.

Perhaps Christian was there too.

A flicker of anger flashed in his eyes. "I'll make myself at home, shall I? Until you decide that is." He said and pushed the door wide open, allowing himself inside.

Candy looked at him, stunned. She followed behind him with hurried steps; passed in front of him, and forced him to stop on his tracks. "Terry I meant it, what are you doing here?", she asked him again. His stare, cold and playful, prompted her to tighten her light cardigan around her summer dress.

"You look like you've had to drink a bit." she added before giving time to reply.

Terry's laugh sounded bitter in response to her observation. "If I remember well, that didn't stop you letting me in your room before." he responded. "What's the matter? Do I scare you now, Candy?" The words rolled slowly off his lips, while he kept his eyes on her face.

Of course she had let him in her room. She remembered as if it was yesterday. Him being totally wasted, a gushing wound on his leg; that night at St. Paul's college, at the girls dormitory and despite her shock, she felt she needed to protect him.

He let his eyes wander inside her house. He walked to the living room. She kept up with him. He moved towards her green armchair, letting himself fall into it, inhaling the waft of her perfume released in the air. The Duke's "Mood Indigo"* came from the radio. He spotted her glass next to the armchair, half empty with wine. She was alone after all. He turned his gaze back to her. She was still standing. She looked tired.

A night of excesses...

The images from last night flooded his mind once more and he had to restrain himself, his breathing heavy and forced.

She could see that Terry wasn't himself. She also hadn't expected what happened between them the night before would affect him in such way. He hadn't given her a reason to think that. So far, despite being hot-headed and jealous, he seemed so together and mature. Candy felt nervous in his presence, but not afraid. He was Terry after all, even if he was drunk, she felt safe. She left a sigh.

"I'm not scared of you Terry." She responded. "I'd offer you some wine, but I don't think it's a good idea. Perhaps some water? Tea?" She added. Given his state, she decided to keep him there for a while. Sober him up, perhaps.

His gaze had stuck on her face, but she couldn't read his mind through his empty eyes.

"Water will be just fine."

She came back from the kitchen with a glass of water and she handed to him, before seating on the sofa next to the armchair. His eyes followed her; placed the glass of water on the little table beside him, looking completely uninterested to its content.

"So," Candy spoke a couple of seconds later, smoothing her skirt on her knees trying to dispel her nervousness.

Abigail Fowler

The letter

The crowned swan on the handkerchief

Were all she could think about.

His brother

Her lover

She rubbed the palms of her hands. They were damp. All she wanted to say was about what she now knew, but it was impossible to even utter a syllable.

"So did you have a nice time yesterday? After the balcony, you disappeared..." He cut her.

"I disappeared?" She asked, sounding surprised. "Christian found me and by the time we-" She said at once, wondering inside whether she was about to be interrogated by him.

"Oh, yes! Christian! How did I forget about him!" He exclaimed.

Despite Candy's soft tone, Terry didn't seem wanting to just "talk". The sarcasm was evident in his voice, the words hard spoken, his tone confrontational the least. It was an attitude which didn't find Candy prepared to accept. Whatever was his problem - perhaps it was that she had rejected his demand last night of

not sharing her

as he had said - but he wasn't aware of the day she had. Not by a fucking mile, he had no clue. Coming here - drunk - to make a scene, no she wasn't prepared to allow it. She felt feverish. At the edge of her limits.

"Yes, Christian!" She replied. "You made yourself clear about him, last night, Terry... And so did I..."

She had been prepared to break it up with Christian last night. He had even took it upon himself to leave her, to make it easier for her. Christian had realised what she had tried to deny, to hide, to avoid but it showed as clear as a day that she loved Terry.

Only Terry couldn't see it.

And now... Given his state, how could she tell him that Christian, the man she had been sleeping with, her companion, her friend, the man who kept calling her his Muse, his Scarlet Rose, that man was Terry's twin brother.

"Oh, yes very clear... without a shred of doubt." He said back in an abrupt way.

The images of her with Christian kept playing inside his mind like a broken record. He shut his eyes, wanting to make them go. Let him be. Release them from their grip. He fell silent. They didn't speak for a little while.

Candy didn't know how to react. She kept looking at him. Christian's brother was the man she hadn't stopped loving. The realisation sinking slowly inside her as if she had stepped into quick sand. There was no use fighting, denying it. The fact was a fact. The more she fought against it, the faster it would swallow her. She didn't believe she would say this again, a second time in her life, regarding Terry, but the best solution was to remove herself from between them. Once away, she could make what she knew, known. She would send Abi's letter to Terry. Tell him that Christian had left. Ask him to find him. She was certain when Terry found out, his brother would become his priority and not her.

"Terry...I'm-"

"What you said last night Candy... having feelings for me - did you mean it?" he asked her before she had time to say what she wanted to say.

Candy pressed her lips, creasing the hem of her dress inside the palms of her hands.

"Please answer me." He added, making sure he sounded like he wasn't accept her silence as an answer.

"Terry... it's complicated." She managed to say, her words hurting her. She had hoped to declare her love to him and now all she could do, her only option was to backtrack. She hoped to God her answer would be deemed sufficient to him.

"You can't leave Christian...you said." His bitter tone was impossible to miss. He had kept his eyes closed, fearing to look at her while he heard her voice giving excuses.

So that was what was bothering him since then. By the looks of him, it bothered him a great deal.

"Terry...I know that you may feel bitter...but..." She started saying the moment Terry opened his eyes to catch hers. Hurt, complete and unwavering inside them. She lowered her eyes, avoiding his look. It made her want to fall in his arms and tell him, it was him all along. She had never stopped loving him. She had messed up but now, even that didn't matter. She took a deep breath. She had to press on.

"You choose Christian -"

"No!" She raised her voice, her body reacting to his mistaken conclusion, tensing, sitting upright.

How could he believe her, having seen what he had seen? Was she so afraid to tell him? He tried to control the bitterness, the anger. He looked at her. His eyes were red from the lack of sleep, the alcohol, his feelings. Made the blue in them stand out more, making his stare on her more intense than ever before.

"Then what?" He asked again.

There was no reply from her. She turned her look to the floor, feeling her eyes turning hot alongside everything else on her body.

"Don't answer... I know, it's fucking complicated, right?" He repeated her words.

"It is not fair Terry and you know it!" She protested, looking flustered. She really didn't know what else to say.

"And it is fair for me, yes?! Terry can take it, isn't that it? What the heck did he think of showing up and expecting what...?" One by one, Terry was removing the "breakwaters" inside him, the walls where the waves of his anger crushed against, protecting him from letting the anger flood his body and his mind. Terry's eyes looked like blue green glass.

Candy pulled her head up, her gaze shining. Terry was poking her, provoking her. He sounded hell bend to make her say she rejects him. She stood up, feeling bile building up in her throat. "Did you come here, to compare who suffers more?" She asked him with as much control she could put in her voice. "Well you win! OK?! I'm done with this!" She yelled and gestured with her hand, drawing a line in the air.

"This?!" He asked her.

"This?!" He repeated, stood up himself. His heartbeat raging.

"What do you mean by this Candy?" He said and mimicked her gesture. "Suffering? OR US?" He waved his hand between him and her.

She looked at him, knowing well the beginning of the end had started. She decided to shield behind her anger. Not to let her true feelings show. Not crying again, she shouldn't cry. She broke away from his stare. Paced inside the room with her arms crossed below her breasts. She stopped in front of the cigarette case that was left on the top of the radio. She picked a cigarette out and lit it, having her back at him. She didn't turn right away. Tried to steady her shaking hands. She took a puff and blew the smoke out.

"I'll never get used to you smoking." She heard him say. Her smoking was another reminder in front of him about her. How she had moved on. A lifetime away she had tried to make him stop. A faint bitter smile dawned on his lips.

"Is it prohibited?" She turned and fixed her eyes on him.

"Even if I told you, I doubt you'd care." Terry said. "Unless you're turned by taking orders, among other things..." There was nothing teasing or playful in his tone. On the contrary, he pushed every button that could to elicit a reaction from her.

He had burst into her house, drunk out of his head, just to play games with her, to test whether she would react or not. "Tell me you're joking." She stated. She had pressed her lips, and a line had formed deep between her eyebrows, as deep as her annoyance was with Terry's provocations.

"I never joke, love. You of all people, should know that by now." He said and came closer to her, reducing the distance between them. His eyes bore down on hers, wanting to reach her soul, infect her mind. Her knees trembled.

"Well?" He asked her, his patience running thin.

"Well what Terry?" She asked him back, exhaling the cigarette smoke crushed the remainder on the ashtray.

"As I recall, you didn't answer my question." He replied. The anger made the blue in his eyes simmer like the surface of the sea under the sun.

"Which one? Because that's all you do, one question after another." She said, her face tensing under his constant scrutiny.

He took a deep breath; He felt dizzy, looking too tired to explain but he did so nevertheless.

"You said that you were through with this...and I asked you what was "this"...Us?"

If stares were pistols, they would have stood opposite each other, ready to fire, in a duel where none of them would come out alive. It was obvious, he had come in the worst state possible to clear everything that happened between them. There was no reason to delay the unavoidable.

She didn't take her eyes from his, deciding she had to put an end on this visit of his.

"It's not my fault you don't seem to get what this... is, Terry. I'm sorry, but I will ask you to leave." She steadied her voice, wanting to sound resolute, and walked towards the door of the living room. She stayed there, waiting for him to move, keeping her eyes on him with as much courage she had left.

He used to love those eyes of hers; the happiness and the innocence of the world once upon a time, closed inside them. He struggled to believe she ended it like that, asking him to leave. His eyes stung. His breathing trembled under the sear weight of her words. She had chosen Christian - it was clear - but she hadn't the guts to tell him the truth. She hadn't even bothered to be upfront with what he had asked right there and then. She had toyed with him

for all that time

telling him she had feelings for him. His blood run like hot lava inside his veins.

Just like the descending sun when the night awaited for its light to disappear from the sky, Terry's mind and logic were fainting just as fast. He wanted to make her suffer as much as he had suffered since last night, suffer for the whole time he was there. Suffer for ten years, suffer since she had left from his arms on those hospital stairs. Ever since he had said he loved her.

He moved; took a few steps towards her, eliminating the distance between them. The clouds had gathered thick and ominous inside his eyes that had darkened, the light having disappeared from inside them. She felt frightened for the first time. She hadn't seen him that way before. By instinct she back stepped and felt the wall immediately behind her, stopping her to move any further.

"How about if we share you...forget about having you for myself. All that bullshit I said to you last night." Terry said with a hoarse deep voice.

She took a shallow breath, feeling her heartbeat inside the veins of her neck. She tried to look calm, serious. "Please go Terry." She repeated her plea.

He was having none of it. "Such a woman like yourself, should be shared, after all." His finger traced her jaw, stopped at her chin to lift her head up to meet with his stare. It was blinded by vengeful desire. He bit his lower lip, gave her a hard smile.

"How about if you undress for me." His eyes didn't seem he was there at all. He didn't make sense to Candy and fear overtook her anger.

"What did you say?", she asked him in her amazement.

His smile was wicked, with no affection whatsoever, nothing else but just pure lust. "You can strip up pretty good, as far as I witnessed last night... isn't that so? Poor you having feelings for me... then getting screwed by that other prick on the table." The revelation from his part fell like a bomb on her ears. The fact that somehow he had seen her on her private moment with Christian, it was as if she was pushed inside an ice cold river. Her whole body trembled and she couldn't stop it. The fear intensified.

He hadn't come to talk. He had come to punish her in the worst way possible. He had no idea what he was doing. That much wasted and angry he was. "Can you hear what you're saying?", she asked again feeling the prickling of the sweat on her skin, feeling the cold wall behind her.

"I'm waiting." He said with a steady voice, having imprisoned her between his stretched arms and the wall behind her, looking at her with the same daring stare.

"Fuck you Terry!" She yelled at him, not knowing how else to reply to his insults.

She was next to the door of the living room. She had to put an end in all this, wishing she had never answered the door bell in the first place. She pushed his arm with a sudden move and turned her body towards the hallway, with the intention to leave him behind, but the moment she did that, he pushed her left shoulder back and pinned her to the wall. He shut the door of the living room.

"We haven't finished."

His voice was alien to her as if he was in a trance. He was just about covering her with his body, at zero distance between them, and he held her arms back to the wall. His breath stunk of booze. She never believed that Terry would...

Her fear turned to panic. She had to escape. His grasp was hurting her, she could feel his fingers holding her arms tight, marking them. "Yes, we have!" She said trying to steady the tremble in her voice.

"Come on... you said it yourself, you have feelings for me. Show me..." He said and pressed himself further on her, feeling all the contours of her body on his. His desire for her had reached red; through his alcohol soaked mind, he sought confirmation that he meant something to her, even if that something was just physical...after all she seemed like quite a free spirited woman...not minding nude paintings of her shown for all London to see and drool, or having sex on open view in parties."

"Terry..." He heard her voice weak.

She could feel tears stinging her eyes, the vein on her throat beating uncontrollably. It was like an out of body experience, a bad dream, pleading with her captor to leave her be.

"Slap me." He said with a hard voice.

"Don't do this Terry." She said trying to reason with him.

"What..? Appreciating you for what you are...? Accepting at last how much you changed..." His voice croaked, his breathing hardened.

Candy's temples were pounding, she felt sick in her stomach. He grabbed her by her waist, holding her hands at her back, keeping her glued on him; his free hand pulled her skirt up. He felt her naked smooth thighs. He moaned. He started caressing her high up between her legs; Pushed his hand under her underwear, felt the flesh of her buttocks. The friction of her body on his drove him insane. Grasped her underwear and pulled it down with force.

"Stop, Terry!" She cried and tried desperately to move, hot tears streaming down her pale like ghost face.

Despite the realisation that Terry's intention was to rape her, she felt aroused by his touch; her panic turned into hate. He was punishing her in his drunken state for what he had witnessed last night. For the betrayal he felt she was responsible for. If only he knew...

"Stop me." His voice sounded muffled, having buried his face on the curve of her neck, kissing her; his tongue trailing her skin with a breath that felt like fire.

He pulled his head up; he looked at her but he was blind; took her lips without taking time to savour them - a brutal kiss - forcing his tongue into her mouth, desperately searching for a response. His erection was pressing on her belly, she didn't want to return his kiss, she tried hard but she could feel she was melting. Terry felt that too. He lessened the grip on her wrists. For a few moments, all that was heard into that room was the slow melodic jazz coming from the radio while Terry was savouring the taste of her mouth.

Candy felt the release of her wrists. Despite kissing him back, she knew where this was going and she wasn't one to let it happen - not this way - out of hate. She could feel her cheeks wet and hot like coals. With all the strength she could gather she pushed him away, throwing him back. His eyes were gleaming before he got the force of her slap on his face.

"You can go to hell Terry." she yelled at him with her face flushed and eyes that sparkled like jewels.

Terry didn't approach her. Instead he started laughing manically throwing his head back, the same time realising what he'd done – but it was too late. Suddenly he wanted to cry. He'd made Candy hate him and he hated himself even more for that but he wasn't one to show it. He preferred hate than pity.

"Too late dear. I've already been there...", he said to her coldly before making an exit leaving Candy to fall into a trembling heap on the floor of her living room, letting her tears run freely at the sound of the front door shutting with a loud banging noise.

The Blind Beggar - Whitechapel Road

Christian stopped his bike at Whitechapel Road and came off it. Across the road, the Blind Beggar stood. Stared at its facade for a few minutes, smoking a roll up, knowing very well, MacDonald would be there. Sunday, it was a betting day. Horse racing day. He'd have his men at the racing tracks. Gathering the money from the bookies.

From one view standpoint, it suited Christian rather well. The pub was busy, very busy. For the working men, Sunday at the pub was as important as the Sunday morning church. Pint of ale at one hand, cigarette hanging from the lips, yer mates around, football talk, women talk, newspapers, all bets allowed, sorting out whatever business each had that needed to be sorted.

Then again, he could easily be held and dealt swiftly by the mobster's men, without anyone even having taken a whiff. Either way, he had to go. He also had an ace up his sleeve, in the name of Alice Diamond. Or better said, her disappearance was the ace. He might make it after all.

All or nothing.

He threw the cigarette on the pavement. Pulled his navy tweed baker boy cap down his face, razors hidden carefully at its peak. Rubbed his left cheek with his right hand, past it through his mouth before he shoved both hands into his pockets. With his stare hidden under the cap, he entered the pub. Took a breath and walked straight towards the bar. Made eye contact with the bartender, a silent nod towards the back and the guy came and pulled the bar bench up, allowing for Christian to come in.

Went down the stairs - the familiar smell of yeasty dampness and cigarette smoke hit him in the face. The place was as busy as he expected it to be. The atmosphere rather raucous. A lot of shouting, laughing erupting through the constant buzz of chatting between themselves. A constant streaming of coming in and out the room. The poker tables had doubled up for betting tables. Guys sitting around, drinking, buying their betting tickets. A cigarette smog hanging in the air above everyone. The spirits were high. It was a warm summer day, the sun and the alcohol had made everyone rather cheery.

Christian walked through the crowd, almost unnoticeable. He was getting near the door of MacDonald office. A couple of his cronies were standing next to it. He grabbed a thick pint glass while passing from a table. Without stopping, he threw it with force over the crowd and send it straight on to a forceful collision with the wall on his right. He did this so fast, no one realised who had thrown it or what exactly had happened, apart from the fact that everyone turned towards the point of the wall where the glass smashed into, and sent flying back shattered glass pieces into random trajectories. The guards with their hands shoved on the inside of their jackets, ready to draw guns if necessary, run towards the point of the exploding glass. Christian slid past, like a ghost, turned the door handle and slipped inside MacDonald's room.

He turned the key on the door. To the sound of the door locking, Charlie lifted his stare from the papers he was reading. It stopped on Christian's face. It was hard to read him, whether he actually was impressed or angry with what Christian did.

"Well, well, well...if it isn't the painter." He said and turned to the ashtray for a moment to crush the cigarette he had forgotten there burning like church incense.

Christian kept his eyes fixed at him. The noise outside went on as normal. Charles understood that no one had realised that he wasn't alone in his room any more. So did Christian for that matter.

"Was that your homage to the Raven? The stunt you pulled just now?" He said and straightened his body, while he sat on his office chair.

Christian walked towards Charles. He pushed his hand into his pocket and then threw its contents on the desk. A locket on a gold neck chain. The man picked it up, looked at it, and then looked at Christian.

Quiet rage was burning inside his blue eyes. "If something happens to Alice..."

"Nothing will happen to Alice." Christian said back to him, "As long as nothing happens to Rose and me." He chose not to reveal that he knew about Charles having ordered his death. "She's in a safe place which only I know."

He sat down and leaned forward towards him. Knitted his fingers together. "IF I die, no one will ever find her..."

"You bastard..." Charles cursed through his teeth. "Nothing will make me happier than to tear you to pieces."

Christian suppressed the wave of nervous goosebumps he felt coursing through his body and smiled. "All in good time, Charles."

He took a deep breath. "I didn't come here though to use your Alice as collateral for my life."

"I'm listening." Charles replied.

"Raven needs to be let to fly away." Christian said slowly, pressing his lips. He said the latter with the outmost seriousness and conviction. "Now, I know, I promised you one last job."

"Yes..."

"The mansion of the Duke of Grandchester."

Charles didn't commend straight away. Instead he let the information sink in and let his body fall back on the chair. Knitted his fingers and stretched his index fingers opposite one another; let them rub against his closed lips, deep in thought. "It looks like I won't need to kill you after all." He said in the end.

Christian smiled.

"You'll most probably kill yourself." He said and started laughing with his whole body. "I did say you were crazy."

"If I do it though... crazy or not." Christian continued saying, unaffected by the mobster's reaction. "You'll leave me alone."

"When will you do it?" Charles asked him.

"Soon..." Christian said back. "I need to check out movements, the ins and outs. In a week or so..."

"What tells me you don't try to trick me?"

Christian opened his leather jacket. Took out a big envelope folded into two. Handed it to him.

"What's this?" He asked him.

"I won't go into details, someone had me followed. This is his detective report I took back from him." He said. "It has all our meetings, and my meetings with Alice."

Charles flicked through them. Stopped at some point. He seemed he was interested in one point. "You kissed Alice?!"

"Don't worry! I ain't in the habit of stealing other men's broads. Especially the one that is yours. We were followed by police."

Charles took a deep breath, his jaw tensed. "If something goes wrong and you think I betrayed you, you can expose me to Rose." Christian offered him his collateral.

"She still thinks you're an angel?" Charles asked and started laughing again.

"She is the angel, I'm trying to protect her."

"Oh, poor you..." Charles mocked him. And then turned all menacing again. "Keep my Alice safe or else..."

"Do we have a deal?" Christian said.

"Yes, we do." Charles said. Got up and gave their hands.

"I'll keep low for the next week, but you'll hear from me, ok?" Christian reassured him. "And you'll hear from Alice too."

Charles groaned. He disapproved.

"If you don't mind me, I'll keep her till the end of the job." Christian said.

The man nodded. Christian stood up. Pulled the cup down his eyes once again. Unlocked the door and left as quiet as he came in. His plan was now in motion.