Chapter 18: Son of a Sinner

When we are sinners, we fear our comeuppance for all the bad deeds we have done. The guilt of our sins weigh us down and our 'just deserts' will come eventually. When we are sinking in our own felony, someone will save us from our depression and help us to swim. Though we may be unable to conquer such sadness, we can hold it back. However, there will be a time when we must decide between what is right and what is easy. Whichever choice we choose, will help us swim or sink when the time comes.

As winter approached the street, icy cold breezes blew in conjunction with falling snow. Covered in the white powder, the whole street looked picturesque. However, behind each oak door, the vision of flawlessness was severely erroneous. As the snow settled on their lawns and rooftops, the residents of Appleby Street warmed their houses, fearing to step out into the blissful blizzard that appeared erratically every hour or so.

In Number 10, Ellie mused over the fate of her otherwise absent husband. Her children had taken kindly to Katy, who was lying dormant in the spare bedroom, was more than welcome, only infrequently asking for assistance for her investigation. Ellie stared out of the frosty window with a glazed look upon her young, troubled face. Her husband had been gone for several days now and unless Maria halted the incessant chase, Ben would be hunted like an animal until he was captured and imprisoned. Ellie was not ready to raise three children by herself, and rested a hand sadly on her stomach.

At Number 11, Matt sat alone by the fire, its burning embers lighting his darkened, troubled face. Without money, the drug dealers were closing in. The house bore scars from previous encounters. The windows downstairs had all being shattered, shards scattered across the floor. The bed sheets had being slashed into strips of fabric and his secret stash stolen. The furniture of his living room was now in pieces, the only fuel for his sombre fire as the heating had died long again. Matt sighed, and threw another chair leg into the flames.

Meanwhile, at Number 12, the atmosphere was as cold as outside. With the clashing personalities of amnesiac Terri and the mysterious houseguest, Sophie, Brad was lucky to escape into his garden, his footprints disappearing as fresh snow fell. Brad headed for the Wilkinson shrine, for warmth. His wife's return had being one of the most unexpected events in his life, but Sophie's arrival was more shocking. The freezing cold had frozen the door shut and Brad sighed deeply, as he trudged back to the house.

At Appleby Store, positioned at number 13, The Johnson's were settling down to a warm lunch, steam filling the previously chilling room. Melissa had abandoned her usual dress, styling an elaborate headscarf, with several brooches attached to her lavender-coloured gown. A large, warm cardigan covered the lacy top of the dress, and she shivered as she closed the curtains, as her husband entered the room, two steaming plates of food. Melissa smiled, and sat down at the wooden table.

At Number 14, Amy was pondering over her troublesome decisions. She lay on the comfortable, moth-eaten couch, her hand resting gently on her heavily pregnant stomach. Six months were nearly up, and the seventh month – dawning and Christmas was getting closer. She wondered if she was making the right choice, and who was the father of her unborn child. She pondered if she should keep this child – who had brought so much sadness and destruction in her life. She considered Simon's words carefully, as a single tear rolled down her pale, troubled face.

Number 15 – home of the Gates was relatively empty as the also heavily pregnant Charlene awaited the divorce procedure, which would bring her one-step closer to becoming Amy. Her obsession had become a passionate endeavour to secure her as the Queen she so desired to be. Matt's child gave a slight kick. Charlene had left Erin, who made her sick to look at. The daughter she never wanted was her first child. Charlene hoped she would not be her last.

Over at Number 16, Florence was crying once more. No tears left her eyes – her sobs were dry and had lasted for several days – but her son did not hear her wails, and ignored her pleas, as his mother slowly began to go mad in her own paranoia and loss of self. Her clothes were dirtied and her legs had surrendered long ago, no strength to help her move. Her irregular breathing slowly became normal as she stopped crying, her sanity returning to her as the sunlight rose. She hatched a daring and dangerous plan – she would have to murder her own son…or die trying.

At Number 17, it was quiet. Since the sudden death of Mrs. Catherine Gardener, the house had fallen into a state of disrepair. Dust and snow had settled on most of the furniture – courtesy of an open window. Nothing had being touched, all classed as 'evidence' but no police officers called by to inspect such a dying house. The flowers struggled for air and sunlight beneath the powder snow, dying slowly and coldly. However, the house wasn't dead yet – it had one more secret hidden between its four walls, if any cared to look.

Finally, at Number 18, Emily sat at her dressing table, bringing an expensive oak brush to her blonde hair. Relentless hours of combing had turned it into a long wave of silky blonde hair. She sighed, her Hen night was nearly upon her, and the wedding was the following week. She wondered about her cheating husband, and asked herself if she could walk up the aisle and say those two words "I do."

The families of Appleby Street were sad as Christmas approached them, but more horrors were about to fall on them as snow descended on the small town and buried the woes in the snowflakes.

Ellie was sat on one of the sofas, reclining sleepily as she checked her daughter's homework – a chore usually carried out by her missing husband when Kai Jones burst into the room with a revelation that shocked her to her very core.

"Mummy!" he cried. "Daddy's in the back garden!"

Ellie held her breath. Katy, who was also sat in the room, reading a well-known novel, dropped it to the floor, turning her spectacled head to face the young boy.

Kai had chocolate brown hair, and bright brown eyes. He looked a lot like his father, a boyish smile and rosy cheeks. "Daddy's in the garden, Mummy!" he repeated, breathlessly.

"That's impossible dear," Ellie said, finally, trying to calm herself in case Katy got any glimpse of excitement. "He went away, remember?" she said, her eyes lingering on the bullet holes.

"I saw him!" Kai protested angrily. "He said to tell you he loves you. And he said he misses me, Nadine and Charlie loads." Kai frowned, as if trying to remember something else. "Oh, and he said to tell Mrs. Katy that she'll never catch him,"

An awkward silence rung in the room for several minutes, while Kai looked at both women's faces, excitement radiating from every pore on his young face.

"He's right, Kai," Katy said finally, crouching down to pick up her book. "I'll never catch him," she smiled sweetly. "Why don't you go and play with your toyes?"

Kai obliged and left the room, and Katy turned to face the other woman. Ellie showed no sign of shock or delight at this new, remaining calm.

"Boys will be boys," she said cryptically, as she secretly thought to herself inside; 'Trust Ben – teasing the law.'

As Matt climbed the stairs of his deserted house, he reviewed his choices in life, remembering back to the day Terri had been shot – six months ago. He'd woken on his kitchen floor. He remembered the night before and his illicit affair with Susan – the drug dealer's sister.

The air was full of the smell of smoke and loud music. Screams came from every corner of the dingy bar on Addams Close. Bright lights flashed around the dark room every so often, and a DJ would shout the title of the next track.

Matt Bourne wondered for a moment why he was here, walking across the dance floor, not looking at the other couples who seemed so engrossed with each other, and sucking each other's face off.

There was another burst of screams and laughter as a well-know theme came on, and the crowd began to sing loudly. Smoke began to billow out of hidden vents below the DJ. Matt stumbled drunkenly, carrying a lager in his hand, which spilled onto the floor. His white shirt was stained with the stench of alcohol and cigarettes. He hiccoughed, and bumped into a woman which eh instantly fell in love with.

"Hello love," she said, with a wide smile. Her lips were thickly covered by orange lipstick, and sparkly fountain covered her face. She grinned another toothy grin. "Where are you off to, handsome?"

Matt felt his cheeks redden. "I was going to leave…" he trailed off.

"Don't leave, love," she said. "Stay a while, and dance" she ran a finger across his chest.

Matt gasped at his gesture. He had never being so shocked. Without thinking, he accidentally spilled half of his pint of the girl. Her white blouse began drenched and see-through. Matt's eyes widened, and she laughed! He had never met someone so kind and comforting.

Only an hour later, the pair were rolling about under the satin duvet of a stranger's bed. Matt kissed the girl passionately, who whispered sensually, both caught in the heat of the moment. Without a thought for his waiting wife at home, Matt bedded Susan that night.

It was not until morning, that he realized his mistake. Fleeing from the cheap motel, he headed home, his thoughts concentrated on home. When he arrived at the silent house on an early Sunday morning, he grabbed a packet of cigarettes, lit one, and took a long drag. His shaking nerves calmed, and his face regained its colour. He coughed a little, and threw the cigarette in the recycle bin.

He reached up for a bottle of expensive champagne and began to drink its tantalizing liquor, the chilled drink filling his mind with a strange, perfumed sense of reality. He sighed deeply, before passing out, the bottle in his hand.

Matt found himself gazing upon his family portrait, a beautiful photo in a wooden frame, which showed the Bourne family, smiling and laughing. Amy and he looked so happy, with their two young children, Tom and Catherine. He held the photograph before the burning fire, before throwing it in, watching the paper curl and burn.

His life with Amy was over.

A day later, the Crown Court buzzed with the sound of chatter and life. Today would be the divorce of Amy and Matt, and the two would no longer be married. They hoped for an easy day, but fate had a different plan in mind.

Amy and Matt looked across the courtroom at each other, nervous apprehension crossing both of their faces. Beside Matt, stood Charlene, wearing a black ensemble as if this were a funeral. She smirked.

Trevor Edwards stood in the centre of the room, saying something to the Judge – a stout man with a white wig over his auburn hair.

"I see," said the Judge, his many chins wobbling. "And on what grounds does Miss Hunt request a divorce?"

Amy took a deep breath. "My husband is sleeping with my neighbour," she said. "She is pregnant with his child, too"

The judge nodded, his chins shuddering beneath his obese face. "And on what grounds does Mr. Bourne request a divorce?" he asked.

Matt turned pale. Charlene whispered something in his ear and he nodded, lacking enthusiasm. "My wife is sleeping with a man across the road, while she is pregnant with my baby," he said, and the jury gasped.

"That's…not true, your honour," Amy snapped.
The Judge frowned. "Which part?" he inquired.

"The baby is not his," she admitted tearfully.

Everyone held his or her breath. Matt looked horrified, whilst his partner looked smug. The Judge opened his mouth, but words failed him.

"Miss Hunt, you told me in strictest confidence that it was his child," said Trevor, pointing towards Matt, who's face was drained of colour.

"No," she said. "My husband is a drug addict, he smokes within the vicinity of my children, and I know he has beaten my son several times," Amy said as the tears spilled down her face.

"Objection!" Charlene screamed, but the Judge shook his head.

"Overruled," he said. "Please continue, Miss Hunt,"

"My eldest, Tom, has sustained several bruises from supposed 'Play' fights with his father," Amy continued, drying her tears and glaring up at the two figures opposite.

"That is a lie!" bellowed Charlene, but she was ignored.

"My husband has pressured me into sleeping with someone else!" Amy shrieked hysterically. "That woman stole my husband!"

"Why you little-!" Charlene got to her feet and threw herself at Amy. Both pregnant women screamed, tearing at each other's hair and cursing frequently. Matt watched; his mouth wide open.

"Order, order!" squealed the Judge but nobody listened to his cries.

"You jealous tart!" shrieked Amy, as she thrust her nails deep into Charlene's skin.

"You lying cow!" roared Charlene, pulling furiously on Amy's hair.

"You envious man-eater!" screamed Amy, slapping her neighbour across the face.

"You filthy slag!" yelled Charlene, tearing the other woman's blouse.

Without a bellow of rage, several guards were brought in, restraining the two women, both sporting bloody noses and bust lips. Both continued shouting insults across the courtroom.

"I hereby grant the divorce of Matt Bourne and Amy Hunt on the terms of drug possession, dual-adultery and the lack of courtesy to fight in my courtroom!" bellowed the Judge. "Get them out of my sight,"

Charlene smiled. She had won.

The night dawned, as the snow ceased to fall over the street. An eerie stillness came to the houses of Appleby Street, as the sunset and the sky became inky blue. The moon was hidden by clouds, and only the street lamps led Emily Thomas's guests to her Hen night.

The sound music, alongside raucous laughter echoed from the house. Drunken cries rattled the street.

Inside the Thomas residence, the women of Appleby Street were shrieking with laughter as Hollywood hunks reigned over their screens. Upstairs, the men were watching a football match, singing their favourite team's anthem and drinking the lager, which Dylan had brought. Florence, Terri and Sophie were absence, as well as their families. Brad was looking after the children of the street in the Wilkinson residence

"Oh, Emily," Amy said, as she plaited the soon-to-be wedded women's hair. "You'll look so beautiful in white," she giggled and hiccoughed – the women has secured some white wine.

"I wish Amy," Emily replied, fighting back the tears.

"What is it, Emily?" asked Melissa, who was painting her nails in a vibrant pink.

"I think…I think…" she said, tears welling in her eyes. "I think he's cheating on me,"

The women shook their heads. "No, he wouldn't," they said soothingly, as an outburst of cheering came from upstairs.

"He's not dear," Melissa said soothingly.

"I hope so," Emily said. She doubted if she could walk up the aisle, and say those two words, which would marry her to the man she loved.

The women soothed her, whilst the men sang cheerfully.

Ellie left the bathroom at Emily's house to find herself face-to-face with Alex Dale.

Ellie had always found him attractive. There was something about his tanned skin, white smile, muscular body and black locks of hair shading his mysterious grey eyes. She felt her heart flutter, and she smiled vaguely back at him.

"Hello there," he said. Ellie felt her heart thump loudly against her ribcage. His voice sounded heavenly. She looked quickly at the wedding ring on her finger.

"Ellie, is it?" he asked, flashing a perfect smile at her.

"Yes," Ellie breathed, hanging onto his every word.

"I'm Alex, we met before," he said, his hand jutting forward. Ellie shook his promptly, and smiled at him, lust in her eyes.

"Are you married?" Alex asked after several moments of silence. He gestured to her ring.
"I…was," Ellie said, removing the ring and pocketing it. "But my husband is on the run," she said.

Alex smiled. "I was married once," he sighed, a memory he did not want to remember. "Didn't go well," he told her.

They stared into each other's eyes. Alex lowered his head as Ellie lifted hers. Their lips met, and Ellie was filled with bliss and joy. Within that moment, both of them shared each other's misguided love in that fraction of passionate.

Their lips parted, Ellie's eyes closed as she implanted this into her memory. With another lustful exhale, she opened them, and looked into his grey pupils.

And she knew she loved him.

As the night drew on, the cloud parted and the moon's light was reflection by the powdery snow, making everything glistening with an abnormal light.

The silvery beams revealed all secrets of the houses, as Amy slept peacefully in Andrew's bed. Her lover had not returned from Dylan's party yet, so she strayed between consciousness and sleep.

There was a sudden click downstairs, and Amy stirred slowly, and heard the door close.

'Andrew must be back' she thought to herself, and she counted as she heard his feet against the stairs.

The landing floor creaked, and Amy stirred. Why was he creeping across the landing? Was he trying to surprise her? Without warning, the door burst open, and Amy found herself restrained against the bed by a pair of strong hands.

"Listen to me," it said, and Amy realised who it was.

"Simon!" she gasped, by his hand found her mouth and muffled her cries.

"You must keep this child," he whispered urgently, and Amy felt tears run down her face as his grimy fingernails dug into her skin.
"My child, you are in grave peril!" he whispered. "Repair relationships with your neighbour or your child will suffer," he continued.

There was a click downstairs, and Andrew's gleeful laughter echoed in the hall.

"I beg you, Amy, do not abandon this child!" Simon told her. "No matter what it costs you, you must save this child above all others," he warned.

Andrew's footsteps echoed on the staircase.

"You child will be the survivor, Miss Hunt," he said, releasing his grip on her arm. "Take heed of my warning Amy, or it will be you in the grave marked for another,"

The light flickered on. Andrew crossed the room and threw his arms around Amy, as she sobbed uncontrollably.

Kai sat in his room, playing with his model aeroplane. He was silent. Brad watched him from the doorway, and could have sworn that Kai had a strange look in his eyes – that, of a sinner's son.

All sinners must pay in the end. We wait all our lives in fear of our sins. When the time comes, can we fight against our fate? Is it our choice to decide our own destiny? The light that guides us, may flicker from time-to-time, but it is always there. We only need look in the right direction. What is easy and what is right – a choice we all must take but only the brave will choose what is right. Appleby Street was about to exchange its questions for answers, answers that would destroy people…