Chapter 62

"Not only it is stupid!"

"Careless!"

"Amazingly irresponsible!"

"It is so unprofessional, what you did Terry, it really beggars belief whether your heart is in the right place..."

Robert took a break for breath. His stare under those bushy grey eyebrows, like the lightnings of Zeus. Terry kept glancing at his boss between periods of having his eyes fixated to the thick carpet of his room.

"Because your mind clearly isn't. There is no question about it!"

He was risking reaching the point of self-combustion. But he was right through and through. Terry had resigned himself to just ride Robert's anger, despite feeling his head was going to split into two.

"It was bad enough that you missed the lead role here in London, because you were mugged in New York, and now?"

The question marks in Robert's voice queued up in front of Terry, who left them hanging in the air that turned silent. He had no excuses to give.

"Hm?" He raises his brows, waiting for a response.

Under other circumstances, he was never short of answering back, regardless whether he was right or wrong. He used to stretch Robert's nerves, with his every word able to tighten the screws inside his head to breaking point.

"Nothing to say for yourself?"

This time, he was peculiarly coy about what had happened to him. This silence from him, infuriated Robert even more. He hid his face inside his hands and breathed out his frustration. He pulled his hands over his skin. Stared at Terry, beaten up, stitched up brow, bruised cheekbone, cut lip. He could had been thrown inside a boxing ring.

"No grandiose, defiant - This is me and deal with it - Terrence?"

He continued, while trying to burn his anger over Terry's actions by pacing up and down the spacious living room of his hotel suite, stopping every once in a while to throw another murderous look over to his protégée.

Finally Terry, stood up, looking more impatient than anything else. He expected all that was coming to him, and Robert was right, he had messed up and there was nothing else to say or do to deny the fact that he had abandoned all logic for the last couple of days. But there was that much he could take from his boss.

"What do you want me to say Robert? I stepped in the wrong place at the wrong time and I said the wrong things. What happened, happened, ok?! I am sorry, I've said it many times already but apart from that, unless you want my head on a place, there is nothing else I can do about what happened."

"But don't you see how self-destructive is this Terry?"

"Please don't start with the Freud bullshit again, alright?!"

"Oh, you have no right to tell me what to say and what not to say. You lost that right Terry."

"Honestly boss, you become tiresome sometimes."

"Tiresome? Well, and you my dear boy, you have landed yourself into the shit - if you want me to use your gutter parlance - one time too many. And it affecting us too, the company."

Silence.

"Is this about your father?"

"What?!"

"Well what else happened before you went off the rails Terry?"

He turned his head in all direction, as if trying to find help from an invisible God. "You couldn't be further from the truth. What has my father to do with any of this?"

"Listen, I'll say this one last time. I messed up and I am truly,

TRULY

sorry.

I know my actions jeopardise the play, the troupe's reputation, my acting future, I know ALL that! Take this as a momentary lapse of judgement from my part, a moment of insanity.

IT WON'T HAPPEN AGAIN. OK?"

Robert kept his stare fixed on Terry. Blinked while still not moving away from examining his face, wanting to trust him. The moment he heard him on the phone that morning asking to be excused for he wasn't feeling very well, he knew something wasn't right. Terry rarely called in sick. Rushed almost the moment he put the phone down. Knocked on his door. Terry's appearance left him with his mouth open and the blood drained completely from his face.

What the hell had happened?

"You bet it won't happen again son or there will be graver consequences than facing a one-to-one dressing-down from your boss. You'll be coming to hospital with me in the meantime."

Terry moved his head from side to side, indicating he had no intention of following anyone to the hospital. "I am absolutely fine...I just need to sleep this off."

"I won't hear a thing. We're going to the hospital, and there is nothing you can do or say to change this." Robert raised his voice. It was bad enough that Terry had gone out of his mind for reasons unknown and to which he intended to do a bit of digging when the time was right, but to have him behave like a spoiled brat on top of it, that was something he wasn't prepared to accept. "After all, we need to make sure those stitches aren't infected...

Who's stitched your brow by the way?

Terry looked at him. It was pretty obvious his right brow had a couple, perhaps three stitches done on its edge. Christian's first aid may had been effective the night before but it was pretty much rudimentary in its application. A sewing thread and a needle and plenty of strong rum. Apparently he had also had rubbed some arnica cream on his bruises, not that it took the pain away. His sides weren't pretty to look at.

"Some folk did." He replied without giving it too much thought. It would be impossible to reveal who tented on his wounds. Especially that someone being Christian. Robert would want to talk to Christian, to get to the bottom of this - Terry knew his ways - but from what had been discussed between the two men, Terry trusted that he wouldn't be able to find Christian, even if he wanted to. Given the seriousness of the circumstances, it may had been better he couldn't.

The niggling guilt he felt inside him, about visiting the police before ending in the Blind Beggar, hadn't disappeared either. He had every time to repeat to himself, he did the right thing. For everyone involved. Even Christian. Given the fact that he too was an unreluctant partner to MacDonald as he had confessed to Terry, made it even more pressing that MacDonald should have been brought to police, one way or the other. Granted, it was naive from Terry's point to think that his talk with the police officer about having a detective following Christian and finding out he had dealings with Charlie MacDonald, would do much harm to the underworld leader but, perhaps it was a point to the right direction.

For the time being, he had to bow to Robert's demand and follow him to the hospital. He sighed. He put on his jacket and with a nod to the door, he prompted Robert for the both of them to leave his suite.

It was almost midday by the time Christian was crossing Puzzlewood forest. In terms of everything that had happened the last few days, for him it was as if he had been behind the wheel of a sports car, accelerating in full speed. The strain under which he had been had started to show. He barely held together but there wasn't much else he could do.

His gaze fell on the cottage where Nicholas had left Alice. He wondered how would she react. Nicholas has warned him, she'd be pretty much pissed off. Livid could be a better description. The forest around him was quiet.

Quiet before the storm

He arrived outside the cottage. Made his steps lighter, not wanting to be heard. Reached the door and took the key from his pocket. The moment he put it in the lock, alarm bells rang inside him as loud as the bells of Norte Dam. He flunk the door open.

Unlocked

There were a million and one swear words that left his lips like rain. He rushed inside the bedroom, checked the wardrobe. His grey eyes gathered storm clouds the colour of lead. Rage poured from the pores of his skin. He shouted her name, looking in every nook and cranny. It wasn't a big cottage in any case. Rather a basic one. It didn't take him long to stand in the middle of the main room alone, breathing like a bull inside the ring. Alice disappearance was the drop that made the glass overflow. The hair that broke the camel's back. His body stretched like a bow with every muscle tensing, a growling scream came out straight from deep inside his guts and filled the empty space. He was just a cat's whisker away from murder. Left the cottage, a man on a mission.

Bitch shouldn't be far away

She sure shouldn't have a clue where she was or where to go. The road was far away from where they were. She should have been blindfolded. Those were his instructions to Nicholas. It looks like no one was fucking listening to him. He gritted his teeth hard. He growled, eyes flashing wild like a wolf's.

He would find her and then he...

"There is no chance in hell, I'm staying!" Terry raised his voice, the frustration evident in it.

Bloody Robert did everything in his power to grate Terry's nerves, even it had to be against broken glass. There was no doubt, he worried in a genuine way for Terry but driving him to the hospital, where he - in an overly worried manner - explained everything to the doctor who came to examine him, while a nurse, Elaine (?) was drooling over him?

Evidently, Robert went over and beyond his duty, and that was with the sole purpose to make Terry pay for his foolishness. A night in a hospital room would be enough for him to detox and reflect on the madness he -

like another Hamlet

had let himself descent into. Terry may had left the bad times behind him, the years of internal torment but even so, his emotional world was as fragile as the ice on the surface of a lake kissed by the sun of the spring.

It wasn't unfounded from Robert's side that he was paying extra attention to Terry, even if he was discreet, from the time they set their foot in London. He knew the real reason Terry was itching to be there. Most probably, all he witnessed from Terry,

his ups and downs,

the quiet nights at the hotel,

long pauses where he'd catch him, at the stage at rehearsals, with a gaze deep diving into a world he kept for himself,

even his shocking appearance that morning, had their root to his relationship with Candy.

The night Terry played Hamlet - not only his estranged father had showed up - but Candy was there too, hanging from Christian's arm who also looked enamoured by her with all the length and the breadth of the feelings held inside that word. A situation, Robert suspected, which wouldn't have been easy for Terry to handle.

"I think an overnight stay would be most wise. In the case of Mr. Graham -"

Bloody doctor speaks as if I'm not here.

The doctor turned from speaking to Robert back to Terry's face, concentrating more at the amateur stitches "- it'd be better to be cautious than not."

The doctor's eyes moved a few inches down and to the right to meet with Terry's stare who didn't even try to hide his unpleasantness about this whole situation. "Even if the stitches seem ok, and the man who did this knew what he was doing, still, they were carried under non sterilised conditions and the best course of action in your case, Mr. Graham, is to at least monitor your injuries, for twenty four hours."

"To be on the safe side." The doctor added, having turned back to Robert, after bulking under the weight of Terry's brows drawn together in the most threatening way.

"I couldn't agree more with you Doctor!" Robert exclaimed with a smile of relief. "We -" he continued and paused to make sure he drove the point where it hurt most, "Are truly grateful." He concluded having turned his eyes to Terry, and God Almighty if Terry had an objection to this...

Detective Shaw arrived at the police bright and early. He wasn't a man who enjoyed his weekend time much. Alone in an empty house. He was in his early thirties already and he had no woman in his life. His mother would shake her head in despair.

"You're getting old Robert." She'd say to him when he'd visit her. He had been orphaned of a father while he had served in the army during the Great War. His mother was all he had left. Well, he also had a sister, married but she had moved up to Harrogate with her husband after the wedding and apart from some letters and a couple of photographs with their two children, they hadn't heard much else from her.

The war had changed Robert. Everyone who had come back had changed...Some more than others but at the end of the day, they all carried the footprints of the battles inside. While they were at the Front fighting, nothing mattered, even whether you'd survived or not another day. Everyone wanted to but could anyone guarantee them, they'd be alive to see another day?

Only orders...that's what remained. Following orders. Carrying their tasks. Inching forward, building barracks. Putting flags up. And reminisce a lot. Reminisce on every minute you could get for a smoke, a quiet moment enough to allow a thought to form. Eventually their old lives were wiped out. They were only lighting up, like scenes from the moving pictures. Silent, in black and white. You'd hardly believe you had lived them. When they came back, their insides were as empty as the big hole in one's mouth when the dentist pulled the rotten back teeth out.

Robert enrolled at the police. Chasing criminals filled his life. His mind. His days. Kept him busy. But inside, it was more difficult to fill the heart. Difficult to open up. He visited the brothels in Charing Cross. Being careful to be discreet. The madams knew him, he'd get any girl he wanted at a good rate. Being at the Police force had also its perks.

Nevertheless, the only woman he felt attracted to but she wouldn't give him a second look was Alice. He was the one who had put her in prison for the first time. The great diamond thief of London had been put behind bars. That was a few years back. Of course, he had caught her before her name had become notorious for stealing jewellery from their makers. She was only fledging her feathers sort of speak back at the time. Whatever was her mistake, she never made it again. Since then, he never let her much out of his sight. But everything she did, nothing was out of order. All was above the law and watertight. And she had been the lass of Charlie MacDonald, who Robert would have given even his right arm to catch and lock in a cell.

MacDonald though, Robert knew all too well, he wasn't an easy fish to fry. He never was. He was cunning, clever, ruthless. He also had connections inside the police. Bribing coppers to turn a blind eye over his operations at the racecourses had made him the man he was at present. All knowing, all plotting, all too powerful for the rest of the underworld bosses to take notice. A war between them was looming like the silent lightnings one could gaze to at the horizon line. Before you know the storm is over your head...

Christian Blake on the other hand...

That man had been a mystery for Robert and one he was keen to solve, given his proximity with Alice. Initially, he thought he was just one of Alice's conquests. An artist out of the bohemian circles of London, having been seduced by the lifestyle of those who lived on the wrong side of the law. A romantic, wannabe rebel, following Alice and her circle. But given how he had evaded him, time and time again when he questioned him. How he kept his cool... Made Robert think twice about him. He had come to the conclusion, there was more to Christian Blake that he had originally thought.

That was why that particular Monday, Robert had let his home even earlier than usual. He just couldn't wait. The Friday before, he had paid Christian a visit at the Gallery in Whitechapel. Whether he had ruffled his feathers with that visit, he didn't know. Christian certainly had made it clear he hadn't been welcomed there. So he had asked him to pay him a visit at the police station. Have a more...in depth...conversation.

He came in the office. Took his jacket off and hung his hat at the coat stand. Sat down at his desk. A pile of papers, care reports were already waiting for him there. He took a cigarette out. A knock at the door stopped him with the lighter on his hand. He asked whoever it was to come in.

Constable Grable came in. "Good morning sir." He said as he faced Robert.

"Ah! Good morning Melvin." Robert replied and lit his cigarette. Took a drag of it. "To what do I owe this bright and early visit to my office?" He asked the officer who, he could tell, there was an eagerness about him.

"Sir, this is for you." The police officer said and handed him a letter. A closed envelope having his name at the front. He lifted his eyes back to Melvin.

"Who's from?"

The officer in front of his desk shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know sir, it was left inside the post room but it doesn't have a stamp so it's a mystery sir."

"I see..." Robert took another drag from his cigarette before placing it at the ashtray. Took the letter opener.

"Before you open it sir." Melvin interrupted him. Robert turned his stare back to the man. Melvin, under the surprise in Robert's eyes, grabbed a chair and sat down. "I had my weekend shift yesterday, late afternoon, sir."

Robert didn't comment, knowing there will be something else following Melvin's initial statement. The police officer took a breath.

"Mr. Graham came at the police station..."

The widening of the detective's eyes to Melvin's second sentence, told the man he had his undivided attention.

"He had a few things to say about Christian, sir."

"Christian Blake, sir."

The sun invaded the otherwise cool hospital room where Terry had found himself against his will. He'd be kept for a day, for caution purposes only. He sat on a chair by the window, overlooking the road, dressed only with the hospital gown, having stripped down for a chest X-ray. The doctor who was attending the ward wanted to check for any cracked ribs, having seen the extent of the contusions on his torso. They already had spread and darkened in colour. Each one being a direct hit to his ego, the one he had left unchecked and unleashed, in his drunken state. He could not believe how he had destroyed everything in the space of a day. Part of him, still, wished he had ended on the dirt, in that alleyway.

His empty stare moved around the road traffic, the people who walked on the pavement, going to their business. Got the cigarettes from the inside pocket of his jacket and lit one. The heck with being at a hospital room. He had been kept there - Terry believed - because Robert wanted to teach him a lesson. He didn't know that he already had learned a lesson.

You cannot resurrect the past

You cannot pick up from where you have left off. If you asked him, what he wanted right at that moment, Terry would tell you, he wanted to leave for New York. Take a break, perhaps another year. Candy had in a way moved on and had put her life in whatever order she saw fit. It was high time, he did the same.

But...

The night that had left its last breath a few hours back, had changed everything. Christian, from what Terry realised, had been in real trouble, so much so that he had asked him to take his place next to Candy on that holiday that they both had planned for the isle of Barra. Only this time, the "holiday" would be a ploy to keep Candy out of whatever danger was blowing toward Christian's way. The seed of guilt Terry was feeling had grown, and even if it wasn't to a size big enough to consume his thoughts completely, it was nagging him like a thorn stuck on the sole of his feet. At least he had told him. Christian was a clever man after all.

With the cigarette still burning between his fingers, he shoved his free hand on the inside pocket of his jacket once more. Picked out the tickets and the sealed envelope.

For Rose

He toyed with the envelope in his fingers, feeling tempted even to open it. The knock on the door proved a sufficient deterrent. He lifted his head up.

"Come in." He said and flicked the cigarette out the open window.

Archie came in and his surprise was obvious on the shocked expression on his face and the fact that he didn't take another step from where he stood, once he entered the room, for a good measured moment.

"Don't worry, it's not contagious." Terry commented. He sounded sour, annoyed even. He definitely wasn't expecting visitors, Archie in particular. It would have been awkward to explain what happened to him, nor that he wanted to explain anything at that.

His snipe remark acted like a sting, moved Archie's feet forward while his stare remained fixed on Terry's face. A couple of cuts and some bruises and a stitched up brow?! "Holy crap, Grandchester! What happened to you?" He walked closer. "Were you thrown under a bus?"

Archie still looked at Terry as if he was mesmerised - having not seen him in such a state before - he grabbed the second chair that was inside the room and sat opposite him who's mood hovered between annoyance and amusement.

After letting Archie peruse in his own time his beaten up face, waiting for the diagnosis from the expert, his patience was evaporating like the early haze under the morning sun. "Buddy, I don't need a new head, it's only a few scratches and brui-"

"Please tell me all that have not been intentional." Archie cut him while he drew a circle with his finger in the air around Terry's face.

That observation threw Terry off. He frowned the same time his whole body pulled back. "What?!" He asked.

Archie got worried. Having seen Candy the night before and now Terry... all the while Christian had taken off like a fugitive, although a lot information was missing, still it was enough to make him wonder whether the situation between those three was getting out of hand.

"Terry, you forget I know you and I know what you are like when you feel you have to compete for..."

Terry was lost for words in that instance. Partly because physically he had reached his limits -

he had been drunk out of his head the night before, beaten up, stitched up, talked out and not having slept much, if not at all that is...

- and then Archie had been so upfront and forward and frankly, he wasn't too far off the truth.

His stare hardened while a sigh left his lips. "I'm not on the lookout for a babysitter, Cornwell." He said so abrupt, leaving no room for further such comments from his friend.

"Protest all you like." Archie replied. "I'm not here to offer my babysitting services Grandchester and nor do I want to." He continued and got up. Shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers. "I'm on my way to taking the ship for France because I've left my girlfriend alone, just to come back here to make sure Candy is ok."

"So please hear me out and I'll go." He paced while throwing glances to Terry.

"It looks like Christian left Candy yesterday..." He said.

"How do you know?" Terry asked right away.

"I know because he came to see me and asked for the detective's report that I had on him." Archie replied.

"And you gave it to him?" Terry asked again.

"I did."

Terry scrunched his eyebrows together. This information was something he had not known and Christian hadn't mentioned. Though he did make it clear that he had some sort of a plan in action, part of which involved Terry leaving with Candy on Wednesday.

"Don't ask me the reasons because I don't really know. His stand was too compelling for me to do as he asked." Archie added, taking Terry's silence as disapproval.

"I also went to see Candy last night..." He stopped and his stare met Terry's.

The pulse inside Terry's veins increased to the sound of her name. He became hot despite wearing only the thin cotton hospital gown. Knowing what he had done...had Candy said anything to Archie?

"Candy was in a bad state...Terry."

Terry felt sort of breath. He hated himself more than ever, hearing Archie.

"I feel I need to apologise, Terry..." Archie said all of a sudden. He sat down to the chair in a hurried move, and grabbed Terry's hand before he had any time to react. His stare was pleading, almost like that of a puppy that knows he has done something wrong.

Terry had no idea where this came from, and Archie's attitude, really, had been weird to say the least but it did manage to stop the menacing self-hatred thoughts that had started to form inside Terry's head. He pulled his hand away.

"What are you talking about Archie? He asked him, trying to make sense. "I'm the one with the bruises but it feels as if you have been the one who's concussed."

He picked up one more cigarette. With a conscious effort from his part to stop the faint trembling of his hands, he lit a new cigarette.

Archie pulled back his body on the chair. His eyes followed Terry's hands as he spoke. "As I said, Christian has left her and having seen her so bad last night...so bad...it doesn't take a genius to know she'd been left devastated."

"Has she told you that?" Terry asked straight away. Archie met with Terry's stare.

"Not with the exact words. The rivalry has tired her. She wanted to return to Pony's."

"I see." Terry commented, having pressed his lips. More thoughts flooded his mind. These weren't the menacing, self-destructive type. They carried sadness.

Give up.

The blue in his eyes deepened. His stare like the North Sea became cold, distant. Archie knew this look, but he too felt responsible and this was what his apology was for.

"That's what I wanted to apologise for..."

Terry didn't react, though he listened.

"I still stand on my opinion about Christian, but I meddled and pushed and made fun of Candy and I made no secret Christian was no good for her whereas you...

...well, Marion was snatching you under my cousin's nose and I kept rubbing this..."

He sighed. Whether he was mistaken or not, Archie felt to a large degree responsible for Candy's woes. "I should have stayed partial Terry, you know?"

"and I need to apologise for dragging you more into this, more than what you were prepared to allow for yourself." He concluded.

Terry stood up, dragging Archie's stare upwards, with his move. He had heard enough. As much as he had felt he had come close to Archie, given their differences back in college, hearing him now throwing him all those self-righteous bullshit...it was like he waved a red flag in front of him.

Archie stopped talking. Instead he looked at Terry who was glaring down on him.

"Can you hear yourself, Archie?" Terry said with a low voice, not wanting to cause anyone having to come inside the room.

"Who do you think are?"

"Some kind of fucking God?"

"You meddled, and you pushed, and made fun of her while what?" He repeated Archie's words, mocking him. " You pushed me and her despite our will to what? Get it on?"

"Listening to you, telling me you feel sorry for yourself!"

"I wanted her, I came for her, I loved her! If I didn't, not you and not anyone else could make me act the way I did. So don't come here acting so self-righteous Archie."

"You know what I think?!" He was getting more and more worked up about Archie's so called apology but deep down he was getting more and more despondent about realising whatever chances he thought he had with Candy, every single one of them had crashed and burned, not only because of how he had behaved the night before, which he considered his biggest fault to date, but as much as he tried to get an answer out of her, it was obvious she cared for Christian.

Candy loves Christian

He had no will left to fight anyone, anymore. "Don't try to shift your guilt for your failed marriage with Annie over to Candy and me, Archie."

Archie stood up too. Those last few words from Terry cut him deep. Were they true? Perhaps. He didn't know. He did feel guilt, that was true. But he also felt he had overstepped his friendship with Candy. Perhaps he tried to fix Candy's relationship to compensate for the loss of his. Perhaps he just wanted to control Candy's life as he had been unable to control Stear's life, or Albert's. Whatever it was, he couldn't decide. Not there. Not with Terry having overcome his initial surprise. Laying the accusations thick.

"Believe what you may, Terry." He said, trying to act calm even if he wanted to punch Terry over his last statement. "I won't stay here, listen to your unfounded accusations."

He walked towards the door. "I suggest you control your anger. Before you do more damage than what you have already done. Candy needs some peace and quiet."

Terry barely held the control over his actions. "Don't push me Cornwell. Leave before you and I regret you ever came here."

Archie said nothing more. It was the wrong move from his part to come and visit Terry. He had passed from the theatre but when he saw Robert and heard what he had to say...he just had to say those things to Terry. It was stupid from his part, asking for forgiveness. He didn't need Terry to forgive him, because there was nothing to forgive. He just had to admit he needed to forgive his own self. He let his stare for one last moment fixed on Terry's beaten up face before he turned away, opened the door and left.

It had been a good twenty minutes since police officer Melvin Grable had sat down in front of Inspector Shaw's desk, going through word by word, under Robert's instructions, describing Terrence Graham's visit to the police station.

"So to recap..." Robert said while pacing inside his office, processing the information as it was given from Melvin's mouth.

"According to Mr. Graham, they had a private detective following Christian Blake."

"Who's we?" Robert wondered out loud.

Melvin shrugged his shoulders. "He didn't say, sir."

Robert hmm-ed in deep thoughts. He passed his tongue over his teeth and pulled the air in. Why on earth had Graham followed Christian and why he came to the station the day before? He cursed inside. He should have been there.

"And he said that Blake frequents the Blind Beggar where he meets with MacDonald?"

"Well so he thinks, sir. Mr. Graham I mean. He thinks that. The detective saw Mr. Blake coming in with Billy Pike - He's known as one of MacDonald's men."

"Ok, Ok..." Robert said and clasped his hands behind his back, his stare fixed outside the window while the cogs inside his mind working nonstop behind his intense stare. "And how was Mr. Graham?" He asked the officer.

Melvin blinked a couple of times, looking like he wasn't understanding the question of his boss. Robert took a deep breath. If only he had staff sharper than poor old Melvin. "What was his state, Melvin? Was Mr. Graham calm? Upset? Angered? What of those if any, he gave away?"

"Oh! To tell the truth sir, he looked pretty determined to me. But he, he" Melvin searched for the right words.

"What is it my good man? For dear God!"

"He smelled of drink sir!" Melvin blurted out. "He looked flustered, sweating even." Stopped for a moment and his eyes widened.

"He looked unsettled and determined." He raised his voice having found the exact word he was searching. "Unsettled, yes! And determined."

"I see, I see." The detective cut Melvin's tendency to start repeating the words out of his enthusiasm for having found them. "Anything else?"

"Well, at the end, once I had let him say what he wanted to say, he stopped... Looked at me and waited." Melvin said. "And I asked him, is there anything else you wanted to add?"

And he looked confused. Then he asked me, "What will you do now with this information?"

"And I looked at the report I had written down, then I looked back up to Mr. Graham's face and I said that I'll have to pass this to you and you'd decide the course of action."

"Oh? And?" Robert asked.

"Well, he looked I dare say disappointed? It didn't make sense...the whole visit didn't make sense but I knew it was important so here I am, sir."

"Thank you Melvin." Robert said and sat down on his desk. Put his glasses on and started reading the report. He pulled his face up. "You may go for now."

Melvin got up from his chair, feeling almost the same disappointment that Mr. Graham must had been feeling, because he thought that having provided that information to Detective Shaw, they - including himself - would act immediately on it.

Visit the Blind Beggar at least...

In any case, he wasn't the one taking the decisions so reluctantly left the room. Robert remained alone, still thinking about the news Melvin had for him. Indeed they were strange. He felt eager to pay Terry Graham a visit...

His eyes fell back on his desk. There was that closed envelope addressed to himself. Another mystery. No stamp, and no one knew who had brought it there. He took it to his hands and tore it the closed edge with his letter opener. Took the folded piece of paper from inside.

"To the Honourable Detective Constable Robert Shaw

This letter is in place of my visit to the police station which was supposed to take place on Monday morning, according to your order, Robert."

Robert read the letter as if it was the Bible. With his outmost attention. Even if the features on his face stayed unchanged, when he finally finished reading the letter for the second time, he sprung up from his chair like old Jack-in-the-box. Pulled his jacket from the coat hanger and rushed to the door. Stopped in front of Melvin's desk who was reading the newspaper.

"I want a couple of officers patrolling outside Mr. Blake's house and a couple outside the Blind Beggar. I'm going to Haymarket Theatre to see Mr. Graham."

The tone on his voice was urgent, so urgent in fact, Melvin scratched his head what caused the sudden change from the calm, thoughtful detective he left in his room, not long ago. In any case, his station was such that he had to follow orders. Without any question, he assured the detective and got up in an instance to carry out the task.

In the meanwhile, he saw the Detective, hurrying with wide strides outside the police station.

The time flowed unstoppable like the river where Christian was standing next to, on his efforts to find Alice. But she was nowhere to be found. His anger had been mixed with worry, the more the shadows of the trees lengthened on the ground, knowing well that he had to find her sooner rather than later. He didn't want to think of her missing by the time darkness was to descent in the forest.

He had no idea where the bloody hell she had disappeared. The curses and the swear words fell empty to his feet. He should have expected she would try to escape. Then again, had she been that foolish to try to go where? There was nowhere to go for miles.

By the time, the sun on the sky had hit the late afternoon mark, he felt his strength having evaporated for his body. He had walked a radius of at least a mile, perhaps more around the cabin. He stopped by the river. Had shouted her name. He could hear the chirping of the birds and nothing else in return. He knelt down at the river's edge, knees and hands inside the cool water. Put his head underwater, in an effort to combat the tiredness that spread in his body and had started to feel it deep down to his bones. He ached everywhere. He drank water for what seemed a long time, wanting to quench the thirst that had turned his mouth dry and his lips like parchment. He filled with water the two large flasks he carried with him, clipped to his belt.

There was no use to just walk around the cabin, in hope to find her somewhere. She could have been a long way off from where he was. There was just him, one man. If he had at least a couple of friends, even just one... someone else with him, they could split the area between them.

If Alice had been lying with a broken ankle in a ditch somewhere?

He didn't want to think that. Not only because that would be his definite death sentence, thinking MacDonald. He just didn't want to think of such of a possibility for Alice. He had brought her there. If he hadn't, then she wouldn't have been in such a predicament. He could feel the weight on his step, when he was returning to the cottage. He resigned from everything else, apart from the fact that Alice was a strong woman. She would let a broken ankle to defeat her. He came in the cottage. Put the two flasks on the table and lied down on the sofa. Just for a few minutes to rest...

Alice felt the drop in temperature on her bare skin. How the air had a bite by the time she checked on her pocket watch and realised it was early evening.

7pm

She had left the cabin and explored the grounds around it for the best part of the day. Having realised Christian wasn't coming any time soon,

the bastard having left her to spend the night alone with some scraps for food.

She had eaten very little but her anger hadn't let her do much else. Not even lighting the fireplace. Instead, she had taken the blanket from the bedroom and had dozed off on the sofa, while plotting of what she could do the next day, because it was sure as hell, she wasn't going to stay there like an obedient girl.

Fuck Christian

The morning came and she, fully awake, determined to turn the place upside down, looked at its every corner, every cupboard, every space that could hold something of help for her. The boards on the floor, she checked for anything loose. There was a tin opener she used to open a can of beans. She ate while sitting at the table,

Think Alice, think

Between the spoonfuls of cold beans, the light bulb moment she wanted came. She let everything down and rushed inside the bedroom. Opened the wardrobe and yes, there was an old hanger there. She could pick the lock of the door with this type of wire. It was strong but pliable enough with some effort to bend whichever way she wanted to create a skeleton key. A wide smile lit up her face. She had all the time in the world but in fact she only needed half an hour before she heard the click...the door opened.

She had come out and breathed deep a few times. She liked the air of the forest had come to realise. She took the bit of metal from the hanger, shoved it in her pocket. Started to walk, putting signs, carving symbols on the tree trunks with the edge of the makeshift key. By lunch break, she had found herself at the river.

She had looked around. No one was to be seen. Tempted, she threw caution to the wind. Took her clothes off, put them on a pile and dived in the cool waters. Loving every minute of the water's caress on her skin. How taut and invigorated she felt of her body,

Free, free, free

She dived and swam for a while, enjoying herself under the early sun. Then she came out, put her undergarments on and let the sun warm her up. She fell asleep. For how long she hadn't known. But it was enough to feel hungry. She was in no hurry returning to the cabin, eating yet again cold beans. She went in search of berries. Surely she'd find something, she had though, with her spirits high enough after the swim and the sleep. She put her dress on but shoved the tights inside her dress pocket, relishing the feeling of her naked legs against the cotton fabric.

While she walked she took care not to lose sight of the river. Stick close to the river, walk alongside its banks, she thought. It must had been late afternoon, she finally came in front of a row of wild strawberry shrubs. By that time, she felt famished and threw herself with much enthusiasm to picking the fruits. She ate with appetite till she felt full. She felt happy to the point she thought of Christian forgiven even. Away for a while from everything and everyone...

Took her cardigan off and made a small hammock which she filled with more strawberries. She started to walk back to the cottage, while wondering if Christian will visit after all. She didn't know why she was there, what was his plan. He had infuriated her the last time they had met...although he had been right about her fancying him.

Alice was a woman that wasn't afraid of facing her feelings. In the case of Christian, it was unexpected and even dangerous. She was MacDonald's girl and Charlie wasn't sharing. She had realised early enough the attraction she felt to Christian but even if under circumstances, she could come clean about them, in this case, she tried to stop them. For both their sakes.

She rubbed her naked arms. She had lost completely the track of time and hurried her step. Her cheeks had taken a deep red colour, just the same as those strawberries. All her senses had been heightened just by walking through the forest that looked almost like a fairy tale around her. She approached the cottage. Came in front of the door that had found half opened.

Her body tensed. All thoughts but one disappeared.

There was someone inside the cottage. She took her shoes off and barefooted she tiptoed her way inside. Despite having some daylight still outside, it wasn't the same in the room where long shadows formed, covering parts of it in darkness. She could tell someone was lying on the couch. She let quietly the strawberries on the table and noticed the two flasks left there.

She pulled the metal "key" from her pocket and put it between the middle and the ring fingers of her left hand, having gripped inside her fist the wider part of it, while letting its sharpest end pointing outwards. She could do plenty of damage to whoever was lying there sleeping. She came close. Step by step.

Close

Close

Tried to adjust her eyesight in the semi darkness. When she reached to the point she was over the sleeping man, she realised who it was.

Christian

Everything she was plotting to take her revenge came back flashing in her mind with vengeance. She could kill him, take his bike back and drive it to London. She gritted her teeth and tightened the grip over her "weapon". She pulled her arm upwards. Bloody bastard, he was beautiful.

A waste of such fine specimen...

It was the semi darkness, it may had been the thoughts that turned inside her mind, balancing between admiring him and killing him when she heard the familiar sound of a gun cocking. Her eyes travelled to Christian's face. Stopped on his stare. It could have been equal to the stare of a wolf ready to pounce to his prey. Whatever it was, it had the sparkle caused by smelling blood. In Christian's case, it smelled Alice. Same thing. Before she had time to react, his free hand grabbed hers and pulled her down, throwing her on top of him. Her face came to breath's distance from his.

"I'll kill you." He whispered.

She was lost for words. Everything she was planning to do and say had all but vanished by feeling his body over the thin cotton fabric of her dress, his eyes having dived inside hers and not letting go. She doubted she'd seen him as angry as he was there. She gulped down, half feeling fear and half feeling aroused, not knowing how to react.

Her reaction threw him off balance. He expected a fight, fire, danger. She could have killed him with that thing wedged between her fingers and all she looked like was like a rabbit caught in front of the headlights of a car. He searched her eyes, the last light of the day still hovered inside them. Her body had tensed on his.

All went dark after that. He lifted his head and kissed her. Felt her surprise on her lips and then the surrender. Perhaps they wanted to kill each other but instead everything they had felt, fed this hurricane between them. They rolled down on the floor. Found himself on top of her. Held her hands over her head.

"You drove me mad." He said, his voice low and hoarse, breaking under the worry he felt earlier on.

That's the last thing spoken. Alice couldn't talk, couldn't think. Surrendered everything she was. Her heart banged against her chest, wanting to break free and leave her body. They could hardly see each other but everything they felt, it was magnified a hundred fold. Every deep kiss, hard breath, every caress and sigh, the grab of the flesh as clothes were being ripped apart, leaving skin against skin, to rub and heighten even more what was going on between them.

There was no thinking, no plotting and scheming. It was all as primal as it could get between Christian and Alice. All the tension for weeks now having tightened its grip between them both, like a wire taut to the point of breaking, had finally broke in the most unexpected way. Their love making had nothing tender or sweet. Fuelled by everything else, it was as intense and gripping as the winds of winter, blowing in gale force strength down the mountain valleys. Even when the storm went away and everything looked the same, if someone looked closely, you could tell the effects. Nothing would be the same between Christian and Alice after that day.