Nine Years Ago...
It is the day of your wedding, Christmas Day, 2008. The venue is a grand Georgian estate in Berkshire, your spouse-to-be's home county. It is the location for the service and reception as well as where you will stay tonight as newlyweds.
You know that half of those attending from your side are there for the spectacle; bad boy Warren Fox marrying the rich, posh and gorgeous ingénue Louise Summers in an extravagant ceremony.
You smile as you think about the bumpy ride that your relationship has gone through and how it finally smoothed out to lead you to today.
xo
You first met Louise in Hollyoaks. She was married to an old 'business' associate of yours, Sean Kennedy, a shady bugger with a dark heart and a history of criminal activities that made you look like Bambi. You wondered what a well-to-do girl like her was doing with scum-of-the-Earth like him.
You soon realised that she didn't really know the man she was married to. Sean appeared to be a loyal husband who supported his wife in her beauty salon business. But the truth was that he was a snake, sneakily stealing money from her to fund his 'street pharmacy' and using the salon as a pick-up joint, offering the attractive female clientele a thorough service that wasn't available on his wife's beauty treatment list.
It wasn't long before she found out about his cheating and stealing with the help of a dropped hint or two from you. She chucked him out and filed for divorce.
You counted to five, out of respect for your 'friend', before stepping into his shoes and dating her.
Things were brilliant. Louise was a blue-blood; high-maintenance and born with a silver spoon in her mouth She radiated a slightly aloof and untouchable air that you found fascinating.
Then Sean reappeared and, angered by your relationship to Louise, he threatened her with her life unless she handed over her business and savings to him. Out of fear she had nearly acquiesced until you had told her that you'd handle it. By handle it you meant rough him up so that he left her in peace. You never counted on getting so angry at him for daring to harm the woman that you loved that you couldn't stop your fists from repeatedly connecting with his face.
It was only when you were too exhausted to land another punch that you stopped long enough to take in his blood smeared disfigured face, motionless body and your aching hands.
In the woods, just outside Hollyoaks village, you dug a shallow grave under cover of twilight and buried your one time partner in crime.
You were surprised at how well you slept that night. The bastard was out of your lives.
Louise was safe.
You did it for her.
Over the coming months you told her how much you loved her.
You proposed to her and she said yes.
Your life was back on track.
xo
You turn to your best man, Ravi, in the large wood panelled reception room of the estate where the wedding ceremony is to take place.
You smile and say, "I need to see her, Rav."
"I thought you were supposed to consummate after the ceremony!" Ravi gives you a cheeky grin and winks.
You smirk at him. Yeah. Funny.
You take out a royal blue, velvety, padded jewellery box from our inner pocket, open it and show your mate the necklace nestled within it. Some may call it over the top and extravagant but you know Lou will love it. "What do you think?"
"Yeah nice. Not my style, mate. I prefer earrings, me!" He grins broadly at his own joke.
"Yeah, well, I'll be back in two minutes." You say.
"Ey, hold on. You know it's bad luck to see the bride." He said.
You grin, "All our bad luck is behind us." You fight off an image of beating her ex-husband to death with your bare hands. "But fine. I'll just slip this under her pillow in our room."
"Fine. But you've got ten minutes. You don't want to be late to your own wedding!"
You nod with a grin and make your way up to your honeymoon suite. You push the door open and head straight for the bed.
Your smile fades when you find a gun under the pillow you intended to put the gift under.
You frown in confusion. Why the hell is there a firearm here in the bed that you are going to commemorate your first night as man and wife?
Did Louise put it there? It could only be her.
Why?
You start to shake uncontrollably.
It can't be. She wouldn't. She couldn't. Could she?
Was she intending to use it on you?
You pick it up and take the bullets out. You manage to pocket them and tuck the gun in the back of your trousers just as she walks in.
It is the first time you have seen her today. She looks stunning; a Raphaelite beauty with long dark loosely curled hair cascading down her back beyond her waist and a figure-hugging silver-white satin dress that grazes the floor as she walks towards you.
"What are you doing here? You aren't supposed to be here." She says. You see her eyes flit to the bed briefly. She looks nervous and caught off-guard.
You heart breaks because that small look to the bed confirms that she knows where the gun is.
"Nor are you. We aren't meant to be here until tonight." You say. You try and hide your upset as you approach her slowly.
"I-" She looks at the bed again. "I was just making sure everything was perfect for tonight."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. Warren, look away, darling. Please." She says shyly lifting a delicate hand up to you. "You aren't supposed to see me until the ceremony."
"You don't believe in that myth, do you?" You say in a measured tone as you stop in front of her.
She shakes her head and swallows nervously. "No, but the ceremony is starting soon. We simply cannot keep mummy and daddy waiting."
She quickly turns to leave.
"Wait." You say and grab her wrist firmly.
She practically jumps out of her skin before turning round to face you.
"I got you something." You show her the necklace and take it out. "Turn around." You say and help her put it on while she lifts her hair up to expose her neck for you.
Her hand is trembling. You take in her smooth skin. You know every inch of it. You thought that you knew every inch of her but clearly you were wrong. She is a liar.
She wants you dead.
"Thank you." She whispers. Her smile doesn't reach her eyes when she touches the pendant. "It's beautiful."
You cock your head to one side and over-exaggerate an expression of concern. "Are you okay, Lou? You look nervous."
"No. Well, yeah. Maybe a little last minute nerves. It's normal, isn't it?" She says.
"Yeah. I guess." You take her hand in yours. You note how your tanned, rough, big and steady one contrasts with her delicate, alabaster and shaky one. "By the way, thank you for my gift."
She frowns at you. "What gift?"
You smile coldly. "The one you left under the pillow for me. I'm guessing you didn't have time to wrap it."
You brandish the gun and her already pale skin becomes even paler as her eyes widen. She pulls away from you.
"It was for me, wasn't it?" You continue calmly.
You hope with all your heart that she will laugh at you dismissively, call you a 'silly sausage' and act as if what you are saying is not even worthy of comment because it is too ludicrous an accusation.
Instead guilt is carved into her face.
"I-, wha-, I mean, I-" She stammers as she backs away from you.
You begin to cry. You. The big bad Fox. You break down because your heart is breaking into a million pieces.
You throw the weapon on the floor near her feet and she stares at it in disbelief.
"Why?" You ask.
She shakes her head numbly. "I-"
"On our wedding day?" You say. The absurdity of it hits you. She wants to kill you on what is supposed to be the best day of your life. You begin to laugh maniacally.
"Warren?" She says fearfully, backing away further.
"Merry Christmas." You say and stop laughing suddenly. "Why?" You repeat. "Why now?"
She tears up. "You want to know why?"
You nod knowing that whatever she says will be a whole load of shit because you do not deserve this. Everything you have done while with her has been out of love for her.
"I'm dying to hear it." You sneer.
"Because I want it over!" She shouts. "I wasn't going to let you carry on screwing up my life, Warren!"
"I love you." You insist. "Everything I have done was for you."
"You don't love anything." She says softly. "You control it. I told myself that you killed Sean because you loved me. But you didn't. Open your eyes, Warren. You are no better than him."
You frown at her.
"I don't trust you because you don't love me." She says.
"What?"
"What about your business?"
You frown further. "My business?"
"I found out about the drug dealing. It is hard to miss a large brick of coke stashed away in the bottom of your wardrobe. And it was fine because I rationalised that you kept it all from me to protect me. But it planted a seed of doubt in my head." She taps at her temple repeatedly. "So I had you followed."
"You what?"
"You slept with Mandy."
It is your turn to go pale when she mentions her best friend.
"I tried to rationalise that too." She breaks down. "You murder my ex-husband. Fine. You deal drugs. Fine. But I couldn't justify the cheating in my mind. Why you would do that to me if you loved me?"
She starts to cry, snapping you out of your tears. She knew about your one night of infidelity, a lapse in judgement on your part; an abuse of opportunity when your will was weakened by alcohol. You weren't proud of yourself and, for what it was worth, it meant nothing.
"It meant nothing, Lou." You say. "I don't even know Mandy. You wanted to kill me because of that?"
"I wanted you out of my life for good just like Sean is. I wanted to put you behind me!"
For some reason she points at her belly when she says that. She wipes her tears. "You turned me into this, Warren. You made me paranoid, untrusting. You made me lose my best friend and my husband."
"What?"
She suddenly lunges for the gun and points it at you.
"If I pull the trigger it will all be over. Everything will be as it was." She touches her flat stomach as if she is soothing it after a big meal. Her eyes look mad and wild. "Everything will be okay again. Like a new beginning."
You look at her in shock as she pulls the trigger repeatedly.
But of course the gun doesn't fire.
You have the bullets in your pockets.
You stare at her shocked face and act before you have time to think.
Your face is red and streaming with tears as you drag her by her hair to the bed throwing her on it roughly.
She automatically clutches at her stomach again as if guarding it. "No. Warren, don't!"
You should have known then, what she means by that... but you don't think.
"No!" She screams as you pin her down with all your weight and then crash a soft feather-filled pillow onto her face. You push down firmly feeling the contours of her face through the texture of the pillow until her muffled sounds die out and her flailing limbs lose tone.
Big sorrowful wails wrench out of you when you finally lift the murder weapon off her to reveal her peaceful beautiful face. You pulled her into your arms.
"I loved you." You whisper and kiss her cheek softly.
It is only a few days later, when Mandy comes to console you over what everyone assums is her disappearance due to cold feet, that you find out what drove Louise to do what she did.
You lied to her. You cheated on her. She knew you were capable of murder.
"I'm sorry, Warren." Mandy says. "It must be so much harder knowing that she was going to have your kid as well."
XOXO
Present Day...
You clear your head on a distant memory of a painful past.
"Hey boss. You've got mail." One of your waitresses tells you.
You take the plain white envelope that she hands over to you and recognise the writing on the front immediately. Your heart speeds up,
Wayne Foxley
The SteakHouse
73 Bacon Street,
Boston, Massachusetts
U.S.A
02110
"Thanks." You say as you turn it over.
"Letter from home?" She asks curiously in a strong Boston accent. She is a student at the local university who works with you to pay her way through 'school' as they call it here in the States.
"Something like that." You then say, "Lucy, I'll be in the office if you need. Lunch service should be starting in thirty. Call me when the first clients come through the door."
"Yeah. No problem, Wayne." She says as you spin on your heal.
You open the letter as soon as you get into the room, lock yourself in and sit down. It is from a contact of yours back in England. You had asked him to keep an eye on things back home.
Part of the reason was morbid fascination about what had happened since you left but also because you missed home. You wanted to sniff out how safe it might be for you to potentially travel back.
You look at the contents of the envelope. It is filled with cut-outs from magazines, tabloids and newspapers from the last six years.
They are all about Ste and Brendan. You scan through them quickly.
xo
- "The twenty year-old man found unconscious outside a barn in the Chester countryside has been identified as bartender Stephen Hay..."
- "Bartender Stephen Hay remains in a critical condition following his presumed abduction..."
- "KIDNAPPER STILL AT LARGE. CHESTER POLICE ARE OFFERING A REWARD FOR INFORMATION RELATED TO THE PRESUMED ABDUCTION OF STE HAY!..."
- "CHEZ-CHEZ- A NEW BEGINNING! The club changes hands once again after businessman Brendan Brady and Warren Fox relinquish hold of their shares at the height of its success within weeks of each other..."
- "'I JUST WANT TO MOVE ON!' THE TEARFUL PLEA OF STEPHEN HAY TO THE PRESS ON THE ONE YEAR ANNIVERSARY OF HIS ABDUCTION..."
- "VIBE HAS ARRIVED! THE NEW DUBLIN CLUB PROMISES A TRENDY, HIGH END, EXCLUSIVE, WORLD CLASS NIGHT OUT FOR THE DECERNING CLUBBER..."
- "YOUNG BUSINESSMAN STE HAY SAYS, 'LUCK, LOVE AND HARD LABOUR HAVE GOT ME HERE' AT THE OPENING OF HIS BISTRO, PECKISH! ON CHESTER'S HIGH STREET..."
- "DUBLIN'S BUSINESS PEOPLE. PROFILE NUMBER 6- BRENDAN BRADY. CO-OWNER OF VIBE AND THE ELECTRIC; RAKISH, SMART AND RICH!..."
- "PECKISH!- VOUCHER FOR ONE TAKE AWAY LUNCH MEAL DEAL- HOMEMADE SANDWICH, FRESH FRUIT JUICE AND CUPCAKE FOR £6! ON CHESTER HIGH STREET..."
- "VIBE- FIVE YEARS ON AND THE DUBLIN CLUB IS STILL THE PLACE TO BE SEEN..."
xo
Haven't they done well for themselves, you think, with barely suppressed anger. Both Ste and Brendan have businesses that seem to be thriving.
You are resentful towards Brendan in particular. He has ruined your life and yet he is untouched and unscathed. He stole your money and after the incident, six years ago, you still haven't got your £50,000 back. Instead, you became a potentially wanted man and you had no option but to flee the country.
You look at an article. It is from a local Dublin tabloid from a week ago called The Dublin Buzz...
xo
MAKE YOUR MIND UP, MR BRADY! BUSINESSMAN BRENDAN BRADY HAS LUNCH WITH A BEAUTIFUL YOUNG WOMAN ONE DAY THEN SPENDS THE NEXT NIGHT WITH A STRIKING YOUNG MAN!
by Dermott Shepherd
He is at it again, folks! Forty year-old Brendan Brady was caught by The Dublin Buzz doing what he does best, swinging both ways... and staying mum about it. It raises new speculation on his sexuality.
At lunchtime two days ago, Brady was spotted at Secondo, an Italian restaurant in the heart of the city, having lunch with beautiful vixen and business woman, Nicola Manzoni, who happens to be the co-owner of his clubs VIBE and The ELECTRIC. The Irish beauty is also believed to be his on and off girlfriend. The Buzz can confirm that they appeared typically tactile and close as they tucked into their meals. With tiramisu and pannacotta desserts polished off, the couple headed back to their club.
Yesterday evening, Brady made his way to The George, one of Dublin's gay bars. He emerged at the end of the night with a striking looking young unnamed man by his side!
This is not a first. Over the years, Brady has occasionally been spotted exiting the club with male company but has never publically acknowledged his sexuality.
When The Buzz asked Mr. Brady for comments on his current relationship status, he declined using language that cannot be repeated in print.
xo
You smirk at the article. So Tache-man moved back to his hometown not long after the kidnapping incident, huh. By the looks of things he and Ste split up.
What a shame, you think sarcastically. Guess their 'love' wasn't strong enough to withstand the event.
The two men must have realised that there was no such thing as 'true love'. Not in the selfless, unadulterated, wide-eyed way romantics think about it.
You learnt this the hard way nine years ago. Love crushes you. It is toxic and destructive. There is no place for it in your life.
So why do you feel shit right now as your brain takes you back to a time where you would look into Louise's hazel almond shaped eyes. You remember her laugh which was lighter than a spring breeze, toned legs that went on forever and a sense of peace that you had felt only when with her?
You rub your eyes and admonish your sentimentality.
You move onto the next article.
It is about Ste.
You are surprised that your hands are trembling as you scan over it. Guilt. That's the emotion. You are a hard man but strong subconscious feelings are hard to suppress and when you think about the state that Ste was in at the end of the kidnapping your stomach flips.
You were sure he was dead.
The paper you are looking at is a local publication, the Chester Times' life and leisure section. It went to print a few months ago...
xo
"CHESHIRE EATERY OF THE MONTH- PECKISH! BISTRO IN CHESTER
by Michaela McQueen.
PECKISH! is a find. It opened two years ago and has developed a strong reputation for delivering high quality affordable food in a friendly environment. Tucked away between a large international coffeehouse and phone shop on Chester's high street, it stands out by not trying to. The decor is understated, a modern twist on country chic. The staff consists of Stephen Hay, chef and owner, a sous-chef, his good friend Amy Hamill and her husband as well as four full-time well trained waitressing staff.
This all creates a great first impression but the true revelation is the food. The menu consists of dishes that seamlessly blend traditional British and mainland European cuisine using local ingredients.
Upon entry I am ushered to a table by a waitress with a sense of hospitality that is a signature of Cheshire's. I start with the goat's cheese & dill cheesecake on oat base, red pepper sauce, wild rocket and herb oil. I then indulge in my main course, a delicious and succulent loin of Cheshire venison, potato cake, pea puree, red cherry coulis, cherry compote and salted crispy onions.
My dessert is a cheeky and playful take on Manchester tart. For this, I am joined by Stephen Hay himself who tucks into his own pudding, dressed in chef's whites. It is the end of lunchtime service and while appearing tired there is repressed energy charging out of the chef.
'It's me favourite.' He confesses with a huge grin as he tucks into his tart with an appetite that is unexpected given his slight frame. Hay speaks with an undiluted Mancunian accent despite moving to Cheshire ten years ago.
At twenty-six years of age chef and owner Hay has arrived. His quiet confidence, determination and vision have got him to where he is now.
When I ask him how he raised the capital to set up his business, he vaguely informs me that it was inheritance from a deceased relative; an estranged sister of his mother's.
'I never even met her! Didn't know she existed. So when the lawyer told me I thought I were on candid camera!' He says with wide eyes.
I bet!
'I always pictured that one day I would be my own boss and provide for my family. I am lucky enough to be surrounded by people who support me one hundred percent in what I do. I am grateful to them every day.' He says humbly as his staff work around us, quickly cleaning up and getting the restaurant ready for the dinner service.
You might be fooled into thinking Hay is vulnerable on first impression. He is anything but. Life has taught the ex-barman to be tough.
Hay grew up in an abusive broken home and became a rebellious child who by his own admission had a 'naughty streak'. He was a father at seventeen and has raised his son and his then girlfriend's other child as his own on a breadline budget. Ste's romantic involvement with the mother of his child finished but the two remain close friends.
'Amy was the first person I told I was gay. I was a late starter, me!'
Hay was a sous-chef at Il Gnosh, an Italian restaurant in the quaint village of Hollyoaks then bartended at a local club. He credits these two jobs for developing his love of food and drink. He was eighteen when he first entertained a career as a chef.
Unfortunately, five years ago tragedy struck. Hay was abducted and sustained multiple injuries in a crime that remains unsolved and whose motivations are unclear to this day.
'I try not to think about it.' He tells me, looking understandably shaken. 'In some ways what happened became a catalyst for a new me. I moved on with my life and I'd like to think that I have come out stronger than I were.'
In fact, once Hay had recovered from his injuries he was encouraged by friends to develop his cooking talent. He apprenticed in a top Chester restaurant while taking night cookery classes until he had the courage to open his own establishment.
It looks like life is finally rewarding the young businessman, chef and father.
As I stand up to reluctantly leave the bistro a rather nice looking tall man enters and approaches us. Hay introduces him as his fiancé and for the first time I notice the tell-tale ring on his finger as they hold hands.
He is shy in his confession, 'Martín is my fiancé. He is finally making an honest man of me!'
I must confess that this news puts a smile on my face.
Stephen Hay is not just a survivor. He is proof that with hard work, talent and the support of loved ones anything is possible.
PECKISH! is a must for lovers of food. It fills your belly as well as your heart.
xo
You are seething with anger. You rip all the papers in your hands to shreds.
You knew it. You fucking knew it! That bastard!
That Brendan!
When I ask him how he raised the capital to set up his business, Hay vaguely informs me that it was inheritance from a deceased relative; an estranged sister of his mother's.
'I never even met her! Didn't know she existed. So when the lawyer told me I thought I were on candid camera!'
Bullshit!
You stare at ripped pictures of Ste and Brendan from the cut-outs, taken separately. Their smiles are like daggers in your heart. They both look smug to you. Taunting you.
You would be willing to bet that Ste hasn't got a deceased aunt and that the money he received wasn't inheritance.
You throw the cut-outs into the metal waste bin near you. You take out a lighter from your jeans pocket and spark it up setting them on fire.
You watch as the flame gets bigger before your eyes.
You left the U.K. six years ago because the situation was hot after the fuck up of Ste's kidnapping. You immigrated to Boston, Massachusetts. You had to change your identity to enter American soil and to avoid potential capture in case Brendan gave your name to Chester police. You have had to lead a mundane low-key existence managing a moderately successful steakhouse where nobody knows your true identity.
You hate your job. You could take or leave Boston. You miss home.
You want to go home.
You conclude that only one man is responsible for putting you into this position.
Brendan Brady.
That Irish fuck fucked with you to help out his boyfriend. That fucker stole your £50,000 cash in some misplaced act of love.
Fucker!
Didn't he understand that acts of love were pointless? They always ended up blowing up in your face. The person that they were intended to help inevitably suffered in the end and became resentful and ungrateful.
Nobody won. Why? Because love was pointless.
You try not to think of your own experience nine years ago but it is inevitable.
You have two options now; move on and let go or...
A small smile appears on your face. Where is the fun in turning the other cheek; of saying que sera sera?
Where is the excitement in that?
You want to go home.
You miss it...
A lot.