tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-78258997858406314602024-03-17T01:14:57.801-07:00The Needle Pulls The Threadsolace for the journeyAlex Karashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05398068721281907129noreply@blogger.comBlogger72125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7825899785840631460.post-89927106163982123562019-09-10T13:04:00.001-07:002019-09-10T13:06:07.208-07:00<br />
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: x-large;">I am delighted to share that the podcast series <i>Unheard: The Fred and Rose West Tapes</i> by groundbreaking author Howard Sounes is available now across all podcast platforms. With the authors own tapes on the case, interview firsts with those involved and never before published material. The first episode features Heather West. </span><br />
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Alex Karashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05398068721281907129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7825899785840631460.post-24035008035614562602018-09-07T14:12:00.000-07:002018-09-07T14:21:25.275-07:00<h3>
<span style="font-weight: normal;">Dear Reader, </span><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></h3>
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<span style="font-weight: normal;">I am thrilled to share with you the memoir of Mae West, the eldest surviving daughter of Fred and Rosemary West.</span><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> </span></span><i>Love as Always, Mum xxx<span style="font-weight: normal;">,</span></i><span style="font-weight: normal;"> is a powerful testimony. Beautifully written and deeply moving. It tells of the terrible abuse she suffered at the hands of the Wests. The profound loss of her beloved sister, Heather. The horror of discovering the appalling crimes of her parents and the fallout. And how she built a life for herself. This is her journey. This is her story. Available to buy now. </span></h3>
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<br />Alex Karashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05398068721281907129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7825899785840631460.post-54869942286153809972018-03-30T06:48:00.000-07:002018-03-30T06:48:03.667-07:00<span style="font-size: large;">Dear Reader,<br /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I am delighted to share my feature article for <b>Real Crime</b> magazine (issue 27) <b>Death in the Family</b>. The article tells the story of Heather West with an exclusive Q & A with author and journalist Howard Sounes who broke the case and wrote <i><b>Fred & Rose</b>. </i>Available to buy now<i>. </i></span><br />
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<i><br /></i>Alex Karashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05398068721281907129noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7825899785840631460.post-49112700898923599322018-03-30T05:20:00.001-07:002018-04-12T04:09:37.772-07:00Deadly Pursuits - The Life and Crimes of Graham Young <div style="text-align: center;">
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The extraordinary story of the brilliant young man whose knowledge of poisons was so advanced that he could he have become one of Britain's leading experts in the field. Instead, he used his knowledge to embark on a murderous career, earning himself the title, 'Teacup Poisoner'. On June 29, 1972, he received four life sentences at St Albans Crown Court. He said nothing as the judge sentenced him. Downstairs, he turned to his sister and aunt and said: “Forget all about me. I'm sorry for all the trouble I have caused you.” His name was Graham Young.<br />
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Every Boy Should Have a Hobby </h2>
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Graham Frederick Young was born in Neasden, North West London on September 7, 1947, to Fred Young, a machine setter, and his wife Margaret. His mother developed pleurisy during pregnancy and died of tuberculosis. “Graham did not have the easiest of starts in life. His mother died twelve weeks after the birth, which meant that Young's father fostered him out to an aunt," says, Professor David Wilson. His elder sister, 8-year-old Winifred, was taken in by her grandparents. Young spent the first two years of his life with his aunt Winnie and uncle Jack. Graham grew close to his aunt and in 1950, his father remarried and he went back to live with them in a house on the North Circular Road. His new wife was a younger woman named Molly. According to Professor Wilson: “Young and the stepmother were almost at loggerheads immediately” and he seemed to bear some antagonism toward her.<br />
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He was an unusual, solitary child. Since the age of nine or ten, Graham Young had been stealing his stepmother's perfume and nail varnish to analyze its composition and sniff the vapours. When he passed his 11-plus, Fred Young bought his son a chemistry set as a reward. By then he had graduated from nail varnish remover to inhaling from a bottle of ether to get high. Young began carrying a bottle of acid around with him at school and managed to burn a hole in his blazer. He extracted gunpowder from fireworks and blew up a neighbours wall and a nearby hut. He fostered an interest in taboo subjects from an early age, poring over books like <i>Sixty Famous Trial</i>s, of which his favourite chapter was about Victorian poisoner, William Palmer. He also regarded Dr Crippen as a role model and openly read <i>Mein Kamf</i>. By the age of 12, Young was extolling the virtues of Adolf Hitler and how he was “misunderstood” to whoever would listen.<br />
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Graham Young had few friends at John Kelly Secondary School and his habit of wearing an old swastika badge did not endear him to his contemporaries. Although he was a bright boy, his only interests were chemistry, forensic science and toxicology. “He was dangerous. He was evil and I was afraid of him” recalls his friend and classmate Clive Creager. Graham developed an interest in the occult and claimed to be part of a coven run by a man he had met at the local library. He would attempt to get his friends to smoke ether with him and to participate in occult ceremonies, sacrificing a cat on one occasion. The disappearance of several cats at this time suggests that it was a regular occurrence. Graham was a “very clever boy” according to Anthony Holden, author of <i>The St. Albans Poisoner.</i> He “was clearly educating himself into an expert chemist”. Young was unusually bright in an uncommon way. “Here we have a boy who almost from the start is isolated, is lonely, is obsessed with poisons and crucially obsessed with Nazism, “ says Professor Wilson “It was almost as if the writing was on the wall from Graham Young, from a very early age”.<br />
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Graham Young's interest in chemistry led him to befriend another science enthusiast named Christopher Williams. Young genuinely liked the boy and the two often ate their packed lunches together, occasionally swapping sandwiches. Graham began slipping antimony into the boys sandwiches. Williams was off school for days with a mystery ailment which doctors deemed to be a virus or bug. He suffered extended periods of vomiting, painful cramps and headaches. All this time, Young would keep meticulous notes. One day the boys visited London Zoo and Graham gave his friend some lemonade laced with antimony. Christopher Williams survived, only because Young was not able to monitor his victim when he was sick at home. Both boys were thirteen-years-old. Nobody would have suspected poison.<br />
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Crime author Agatha Christie published her book <i>Pale Horse</i>, around the time of Graham Young's first bout of poisoning. In the book, thallium is administered by the killer and this evidently inspired the boy. Using the fake ID of M.E. Evans, Young was able to convince two chemists that he was aged seventeen and that he needed them for “study”. He was able to cloak his murderous intentions beneath a veil of charm and maturity. He procured enough antimony, arsenic, digitalis and thallium to kill 300 people.<br />
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Tea Time</h2>
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Graham Young now turned his attention to his family and concentrated on his 37-year-old stepmother Molly, whom he had hated since the age of three. She had destroyed his toy train set - for reasons that remain unclear. Young took pleasure in watching his stepmother in constant ill health, knowing full well that he was responsible. He enjoyed the control he had over others. “Through poisoning his family, he is able to establish that control,” says Professor David Wilson. In the early part of 1961, Graham Young was conducting a long-term experiment. He put antimony in the Sunday joint and watched what it did to his father, stepmother, and sister. Molly suffered vomiting, diarrhea, and intense stomach pain, which she initially dismissed as attacks of biliousness. Fred Young, 44, began suffering similar symptom for days at a time and that summer, 22-year-old Winifred Young was violently ill on a couple of occasions.<br />
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In November 1961, Winifred Young was served a cup of tea by her brother but threw it away after only a sip because it tasted sour. An hour later, she began to hallucinate on a train and had to be escorted off. Winifred was taken to hospital where the doctors concluded that she had been poisoned by belladonna. Meanwhile, the protagonist continued to make notes in his diary. Fred Young only suspected that his son contaminated the kitchen utensils he borrowed for his school experiments. He confronted Graham. But he only blamed his sister, claiming that she had been mixing shampoo in the family's teacups. Fred Young found nothing incriminating in his son's room and warned him to be more careful when messing about with “those bloody chemicals".<br />
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In the early months of 1962, Molly Young's condition deteriorated. She lost weight, suffered agonising backache, and her hair began to fall out. After a year of poisoning his stepmother with antimony, Graham Young spiked her evening meal with 20 grains of thallium which was enough to kill five or six people. The following day, Easter Saturday, Molly Young awoke with different symptoms. Her neck was stiff and she experienced pins and needles in her hands and feet. Molly went shopping but returned before lunchtime, while her husband was out at a local public house. Fred Young returned home to find his wife writhing in agony in the garden. Fred Young noticed his son staring intently from the kitchen window at the scene. Molly was admitted to hospital but the doctors could not fathom her symptoms. Her last words were simply that she just wanted to go home and make her family dinner. Just hours later, Molly Young was dead. A postmortem concluded that she had died from a collapsed bone in the spine, incurred from a car accident a year earlier. Molly was cremated at Graham's suggestion. After the funeral, Graham's uncle John began vomiting violently after eating mustard pickle sandwiches, spiked by his nephew.<br />
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Meanwhile, Fred Young had suffered permanent damage to his liver. So far, Graham had shown little remorse for his stepmother or the plight of his father. His sister Winifred had also been damaged by the poisoning. Young began placing larger and larger amounts of antimony in his father's food and drink. Fred Young had already begun to suffer similar symptoms to his deceased second wife, and was rushed to hospital where his son coolly observed him and continued to make notes. This time, the doctors diagnosed him as suffering from arsenic poisoning. “How ridiculous, not being able to tell the difference between arsenic and antimony poisoning” Graham responded disdainfully. When the boy began lecturing the doctors on which poison might be responsible, his father cried: “Get that boy away from me!”<br />
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Graham Young's chemistry teacher Geoffrey Hughes had his own suspicions about the eccentric teenager. He searched the boy's desk and found bottles of poisons, drawings of dying men, and essays about famous poisoners. Hughes duly contacted the police. Young was sent for what he believed to be a careers interview, but the interviewer was, in fact, a police psychiatrist who reported what the boy said to him. The police were waiting for Graham when he arrived home from school on the afternoon of 2 May 1962. They searched his pockets but found nothing. When Graham was asked to remove his shirt three small bottles dropped out. They contained antimony and Young was taken into custody where he made a boastful confession. They were his exit dose for which to commit suicide if he was ever caught. Young was arrested for attempted murder. At first, Graham denied everything, but broke down and confessed to poisoning his father and sister and his best friend at school. Molly Young had been cremated, so "It grew on me like a drug habit, except it was not me who was taking the drugs." Graham Young said. "I miss my antimony. I miss the power it gives me," he informed the psychiatrists, while on remand awaiting trial. Graham Young was fourteen-years and ten-months-old.<br />
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The trial began on 6, July 1962 at the Old Bailey. Graham Young entered a plea of not guilty and he was vigorously defended by Jean Southworth who likened him to "a drug addict, to be pitied for his obsession”. Psychiatrist and senior medical officer at Ashworth, Dr. Christopher Fysh gave a more convincing account and he was supported by consultant Dr. Donald Blair “I would say he (Young) was prepared to take the risk of killing to gratify his interest in poisons. He is obsessed by the sense of power they gave him. I fear he will do it again”. But his prophetic words would not be heeded. Both specialists concluded that Graham Young was a dangerous psychopath. He was found guilty. Because of his age, the judge decided to send Young to a mental hospital for the criminally insane. He was sentenced to be detained at Broadmoor maximum security hospital in Crowthorne, Berkshire with an order that he was not to be released without the permission of the Home Secretary for 15 years.<br />
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The Victorian Asylum </h2>
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Graham Young was the youngest person to be committed to Broadmoor, since 1885. At Broadmoor, he did not come under the prison system so was not restricted. “He lived very much in a fantasy world at first … All he would talk about were his poisons” a nurse at the hospital recalled. One of his inmates was a man named John Berridge. Graham wrote letters to his sister, expressing irritation at his loud snoring in the communal dormitory. Within months of Young arriving at Broadmoor, John Berridge was dead of cyanide poisoning. Young was said to have extracted the poison from laurel bushes in the hospital yard. But his confession was not taken seriously, and Berridge's death was recorded as suicide. On another occasion, staff's coffee was found to contain Harpic bleach, and from then on they would joke to inmates:"Unless you behave, I'll let Graham make your coffee”. Graham grew a Hitler mustache and made hundreds of wooden swastikas to wear around his neck. Young used the library for research; studying poisons and general medicine. He read William Shirer's <i>The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich</i> and Dennis Wheatley's series of disquieting novels on the occult and Bram Stoker's <i>Dracula.</i><br />
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Young deduced that if he was ever to leave Broadmoor, he would have to change his behaviour. By the end of his fifth year at Broadmoor, he had become the model patient and convinced Dr. Edgar Udwin who was responsible for his rehabilitation that he was a reformed man. Despite this, two whole packets of sugar soap went missing at Broadmoor in 1968. The contents were later found in the communal tea urn. Nevertheless, Graham Young had seemingly transformed himself into the model patient and in June 1970, after nearly eight years in Broadmoor. Dr. Udwin reported to the Home Office that Young had experienced “profound changes”. He "is no longer obsessed with poisons, violence and mischief.” announced Dr. Udwin.<br />
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On 16 June 1970, Graham wrote to tell his sister Winifred that the “estimable Edgar" – referring to Dr Udwin - hoped to discharge him later that year. He was granted home visits and spent a week with his sister Winifred who was now married to Dennis Shannon and had a little boy. “Guess what, your friendly Frankenstein is coming to stay with you next week,” he wrote to her, in an infamous letter. The week passed uneventfully enough and Graham even expressed remorse for what he had done in a reflective moment. Graham Young hoodwinked Dr. Unwin into believing he was now fit to return to society and was certified as “cured”. He celebrated by making a chilling threat to a psychiatric nurse: “When I get out, I'm going to kill one person for every year I've spent in here”. Although the comment was recorded on his file, nobody paid it any heed. Graham Young has since been diagnosed as having a schizoid obsessive personality.<br />
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Angel of Death </h2>
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Graham Young was twenty-three years old when he walked free from Broadmoor on 4, February 1971. Winifred Young was more forgiving than her father, and he went to stay with and her new husband Dennis in Hemel Hempstead. Upon his release, Graham visited the scenes of his crimes and made a sentimental journey to the chemists where he had originally procured his poisons. He took pleasure in the reaction of his old neighbours. Within a week of his release, he began training as a storekeeper in Slough and moved into a hostel nearby. 34-year-old Trevor Sparkes was a fellow hostel resident. He was soon exhibiting the familiar symptoms of Young's former victims. Graham helpfully suggested that a glass of wine might help, but the man's condition only worsened. Trevor Sparkes was an avid football player, and was taken ill when his legs gave way at a match. He never played football again and would experience “diabolical pains” for years to come. Around the same time, another man claimed to have had a drink with a man who fitted Graham Young's description. He later committed suicide after experiencing excruciating pain. No connection to Young was made at the time.<br />
Shortly after, Graham found a job as a storekeeper with John Hadland's Ltd, a photographic instrument firm in Bovington, Hertfordshire. He started his new job on 10 May 1971.<br />
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“When Graham arrived, it was understood that he had come from some rehabilitation as a result of a mental breakdown. He didn't strike one as exceptional. He was very dark, somewhat glum, very articulate, clearly very intelligent and obviously conveyed through one means or another knowledge of chemistry and we, those who were curious, asked him what he had done in the past and he said well I was actually a failed chemistry student or a pharmacist” recalls former co-worker Anthony Oldham “I do remember colleagues saying one day as we were discussing him generally, just don't get him on the subject of Hitler and the Nazis because it's a favourite topic and he'll be off on one basically and we did smile about it and keep well clear of that”.<br />
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Graham Young was good-looking and slightly built, with dark brown hair and piercing eyes. He had a peculiarly formal, deferential mode of speech and in many of his photographs appears brooding and intense. The most famous image, which he chose as a media photo at his trial, shows a glowering Young staring at the camera. According to author Anthony Holden, Graham Young was scowling because he thought he had been cheated out of some money by the coin-operated photo booth where the picture was taken.<br />
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Within days of Young's arrival at Hadland's, people began to fall ill. “People were taking time off, either one or two days or whatever and then things started to get more serious” says Anthony Oldhams, a work colleague at Hadland's “I remember when I was in one of the buildings looking out, and somebody came rushing out of the doors and was violently ill on the grass outside which, looking back on it at the time, we thought there's something extraordinary going there”<br />
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41-year-old Ronald Hewitt was about to leave the firm but stayed on a few weeks to train the new boy. 59-year-old foreman Bob Eagle and 60-year-old Fred Biggs also befriended the young man, lending him cigarettes and money for his bus fare. Eagle was soon taken ill, suffering from diarrhea, nausea, extreme backache and numbness in the tips of his fingers. Over a period of two months, Eagle was constantly admitted to a hospital, where doctors failed to diagnose his condition. And when he returned to work, Bob Eagle confided in his friend Graham Young. “Eagle was very ill, I think it was probably the thallium, very horrible effect on him in terms of sensitivity of his skin, giving him violent hallucinations” recalls Anthony Oldhams “he was having nightmares out of hell with this”<br />
On 7 July 1971, eight days after being admitted, Bob Eagle died in St Albans hospital. The cause of death was attributed to broncho-pneumonia and polyneuritis. "Its very sad, that Bob should have come through the terrors of Dunkirk only to fall victim to some strange virus” declared Graham Young. He even visited Eagle's widow and convinced her that cremation was the best option these days. The company director chose Young to accompany him to the funeral on behalf of the company because he and Eagle had been friends. “So Graham sat in the crematorium, watching the evidence literally go up in smoke,” says Anthony Holden, author of <i>The St Albans Poisoner</i>.<br />
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Graham Young targeted ten of his work colleagues at Hadland's. Ronald Hewitt had begun suffering from similar symptoms to Bob Eagle. Over the next three weeks, he suffered no fewer than twelve bouts of this mysterious illness. Hewitt left the firm eight days after Bob Eagle's death. In September 1971, 60-year-old Fred Tipps fell ill at Hadland's suffering from similar symptoms to Bob Eagle and Ronald Hewitt. Also that month, an import-export manager named Peter Bock fell ill after drinking tea with Graham Young. The following month, David Tilson, a clerk, Jethro Bart, a storeman also fell foul of what was coming to be known as the “Bovington bug”. Both men grew worse and Tilson began to lose his hair. Diana Smart developed stomach cramps, nausea, and other symptoms. Two months after Eagle's death, Young turned his attention to the store manager, Fred Biggs. He had been working at Hadland's for four years and had become friendly with Graham Young. He soon began to suffer symptoms similar to the victims. Jethro Batt, 39, was a fellow storeroom worker. One evening, Young made him a cup of coffee but Batt threw it away complaining it tasted bitter. "What's the matter? D'you think I'm trying to poison you?” asked Graham Young. Twenty minutes later Jethro Batt vomited and felt intense pain in his legs.<br />
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"F (Fred) is responding to treatment," Graham wrote in his diary. "He is being obstinately difficult. If he survives a third week he will live. I am most annoyed." On 19, November 1971, Fred Biggs succumbed to his illness. On the one hand, Young presented himself as a friendly work colleague, on the other, he administered poisons to his work colleagues and kept meticulous notes in his diary. Graham Young coolly observed these people suffering at his hands. He was cold and calculated killer who remained detached from his handiwork.<br />
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A medical inquiry was held into the working conditions at the firm and a meeting ensued with the entire workforce in the canteen. Dr. Arthur Anderson, who led the investigation, made himself available for questioning. He was bombarded by one particular employee. “Graham Young then piped up and started asking questions, and they were very technical terms he was using” remembers Anthony Oldham “I suppose in a sense we weren't so surprised because of this past experience he had” The suspicions of the management were aroused. “Young says too much and reveals this knowledge of poisons, indeed he suggests to the authorities, have you considered thallium poisoning and it is that over-eagerness to be part of the story, to be at the forefront of what is happening that leads to Young being arrested,” says Professor David Wilson. The management at Hadland's decided to look into Young's past and discovered that he had been released from Broadmoor the year before after being committed for poisoning his family.<br />
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Graham Young was arrested at Alma Road, in Sheerness, Kent, at 11.30 pm on Saturday, November 21, 1971. He was spending the weekend with his father and aunt and was making a sandwich at the time. “Which one are you doing me for?” Graham Young asked as he was led away. His room at the hostel in Hemel Hempstead was searched. They found his walls decorated with pictures of Hitler and other Nazi leaders, and unsettling drawings of emaciated figures holding bottles marked poison, clutching their throats as their hair fell out. Bottles, vials and tubes were lined along the window sill. Under his bed, they discovered the incriminating diary, loftily titled 'A Student's and Officer's Casebook'. Tests were carried out on the organs of Ben Biggs and the ashes of Robert Eagle, revealing that Biggs had ingested over 100 grams of thallium tartrate. 1 gram of the poison could be fatal. Graham Young was rearrested less than a year after leaving Broadmoor. He confessed to poisoning six people, two of whom had died. “I could have killed them all if I wished, as I did Bob Eagle and Ben Biggs, but I allowed them to live” he declared. Young seemed resigned to his fate but he laughed mockingly when asked to make a written statement.<br />
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The Teacup Poisoner</h2>
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On 17 June 1972, Graham Young stood trial at St Albans Crown Court, charged with the murder of Bob Eagle and Ben Biggs and several counts of attempted murder. He was delighted at the media hype that surrounded his trial and attempted to unnerve the jury by appearing sinister. But he was less than enamoured with the sobriquet the 'Teacup Poisoner,' which he felt belittled his skill and knowledge. He thought 'World Poisoner' more appropriate.“His demeanor was very arrogant, detached. Like one of those dictators who doesn't recognise the court. He sent me notes across the court that said, 'make me so famous that I wind up in the Chamber of Horrors at Madame Tussauds. I want to go down in history as a really famous murderer” recalls Anthony Holden, who was present at the trial. "He was very proud of being the first person to use thallium in a poisoning case in Britain," Young's defence lawyer Peter Goodman, remembers, "For him the whole thing was one big chemistry experiment, and I suppose the trial was an experiment in seeing if he could use his knowledge to argue his way out of it”.<br />
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The defense called one witness, Graham Young, and he remained cool under questioning. Young pleaded not guilty, and it was evident that he was having the time of his life at the trial. "He was clearly a very intelligent fellow, but he also came across as incredibly creepy. You didn't want to make eye contact with him because he just had this unnerving aura about him," says Susan Nowak, who was in court to report on the trial for The Watford Observer. Young's diary would prove to be the most damaging evidence against him. Incriminating extracts of his diary were read out in court:<br />
'F (Fred) is now seriously ill. He has developed paralysis and blindness. Even if the blindness is reversed, organic brain disease would render him a husk. From my point of view, his death would be a relief. It would remove one more casualty from an already crowded field of battle'.<br />
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Graham Young continued to protest his innocence and asserted that the diary was an “exposition of a theory I outlined, somewhat fancifully, for my own amusement”. He had no idea how the body of Bob Eagle and the ashes of Ben Biggs came to carry doses of thallium. “Your expressions of regret at Mr Biggs's death were pure hypocrisy?” John Leonard QC, prosecuting, said: “His death satisfied you.” “No. I can see very little satisfaction to be derived from a death like that” Graham Young replied. On Thursday, 29 June 1972, Graham Young was found guilty of murdering Bob Eagle and Fred Biggs, and the attempted murder of Jethro Batt and David Tilson and of poisoning Ron Hewitt and Diana Smart. He was acquitted of poisoning Peter Buck and Trevor Sparkes. There was a sensation when young's past convictions were revealed."You looked at the jury, and the blood drained from their faces when they heard about his previous convictions. The verdict had not been a foregone conclusion, and they were probably thinking what if we'd let this maniac out onto the street?” remembers Susan Nowak. Asked if he felt any remorse, Graham Young replied: “What I feel is the emptiness of my soul”. He made no reaction as he was sentenced to life imprisonment by Justice Eveleigh. Downstairs he asked to see his Aunt Winnie and sister Winifred. “Forget all about me” he told them “I'm sorry for all the trouble I have caused you”.<br />
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<h2>
Kindred Spirits</h2>
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Graham Young was sent to Parkhurst maximum security prison, on the Isle of Wight. A few years later, he got his wish when his waxwork joined Dr Crippn in Madame Tussauds Chamber of Horrors in London. At Parkhurst, Young was befriended by Moors murderer Ian Brady. They bonded over a shared fascination with Nazism and were kindred spirits in this respect. Brady and Young played chess every day, with Young favouring the black pieces and beating Brady every time. "He sometimes grew a Hitler mustache, fastidiously trimming it with a razor until the skin around it was red raw and the prison staff had to stop him.” Ian Brady remembered later in his book. He was clearly infatuated with the good-looking young man, likening him to the “Angel of Death”, Josef Mengele. Brady perceived Young to be genuinely asexual and suggested that this was another example of him exercising power over the herd."Power and death were his aphrodisiacs," he asserted. According to Brady, the only music Young liked were Jeff Waynes War Of The Worlds and Hit The Road Jack by Ray Charles, and he would amuse himself by reading the obituaries in The Times. "It was difficult not to empathise with Graham Young." Ian Brady pronounced.<br />
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“I wouldn't even sit on a table with him in case he'd dusted it with something” remembers Bobby Cummines who served time with him “that's how dangerous he was”. Other inmates feared Graham Young. “He made the Krays or any of your bad men look like amateur street fighters” adds<br />
Cummines. Not even the prison vicar would meet up with him and the prison guards did not feel safe around him. Young became completely isolated in prison.<br />
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It transpired that while he was at Parkhurst, Graham Young was approached by cosmetics companies keen to enlist his knowledge of chemicals to enhance their products. “He could have been a force for forensic investigation, on the right side of the law” believes author Anthony Holden “But he had this deadness to normal human interaction. He had no compunction, no remorse, no guilt about inflicting terrible pain and some cases death”<br />
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On the evening of 1, August 1990, wardens making a routine visit to Graham Young's cell, found him lying crumpled on the floor. He was rushed to the prison hospital but was found to have died of a heart attack. He was 42.<br />
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According to Bobby Cummines, some prison officers were alleged to have said that prisoners had murdered Young. While there were prisoners who said that it was the prison officers who did it. The likely method being poisoning. "I wonder if he tried to do the same poisoning tricks he pulled off in Broadmoor, only someone took offense this time,” suggests Peter Goodman. "Who in his right mind...would want to spend an indefinite period incarcerated with a man who could extract poison from a stone - or in this case, perhaps, iron bars - in order to kill some time by doing just that to his everyday companions?" says Anthony Holden.<br />
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But it is probable that Graham Young took his own life. It is a view held by Professor David Wilson and even Ian Brady. “He was somebody who recognised that the rest of his own life was going to be spent behind bars and took the ultimate form of power and control over his own life by gaining access to whatever poison he was able to find. Poisons that he would be able to kill himself with” says Professor David Wilson.<br />
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Peter Goodman offers a unique view of Graham Young. He was driven by a misguided scientific obsession, coupled with a total absence of empathy for others. "I don't think he had any ill will towards the people he killed, he just had no morals. The reason he poisoned those closest to him was simply that he could closely observe the symptoms. He was a deranged scientist essentially." says Goodman. It is now believed, that Graham Young was on the autistic spectrum.<br />
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In 1995, a motion picture loosely based on Graham Young's life was released in movie theatres worldwide, <i>The Young Poisoner's Handbook </i>was a black comedy directed by Benjamin Ross, and starring Tobias Arnold in the leading role. In November 2005 a 16-year old Japanese schoolgirl was arrested for poisoning her mother with thallium. She claimed to be fascinated by Graham Young after seeing the 1995 motion picture. She kept an online blog, similar to Graham Young's diary, recording dosage and reactions. Her mother remains in a coma.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"></span> <span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span> <span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>Alex Karashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05398068721281907129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7825899785840631460.post-88274415716606070642017-05-22T07:49:00.001-07:002017-05-22T07:49:15.169-07:00Walter<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">When Darkness Falls</span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">In the year 1964 when the Beatles released Can't Buy Me Love and two men were the last to be executed in England, Walter Banister was sent to the country. His mother was ill again and his father thought it would be a good idea.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Oakley was a quaint little village and aunt Beryl and uncle Reg were kindly and obliging hosts. They owned the post office and lived beside it in a modest house. They had never had children of their own and had always had affection for their bright nephew. The thirteen-year-old boy settled in quickly and made a new best friend in Peter Price. His parents owned the fish and chip shop and they lived above it. The two boys hit it off immediately.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Walter Banister was a pretty youth with a mop of brown hair and steel blue eyes. He had a lurid imagination and a morbid fascination with vampires and werewolves and a penchant for scaring his schoolmates with stories of the <i>undead. </i></span></span><span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "times new roman", serif;">Now he faced the prospect of spending the summer in a little village he knew nothing about and he wasn't very happy about it. The village sounded like it was full of another kind of living dead.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Everyone in Oakley seemed to welcome Banister. Everyone it seemed except the strange woman who owned the little pie shop at the end of the street. She appeared to regard the boy with disdain and Walter Banister had taken a violent dislike to her the moment he first saw her.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Ada Winson had a face like thunder as she stood glaring at him from inside her pie shop. She had dark hair scraped in a bun, pointy features, black eyes and a pinched mouth. All she needed was a broom stick to complete the picture. Her cold eyes seemed to bore holes into his soul. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">"Witch and a bitch" Banister muttered under his breath. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Walter often caught her staring impassively at him from her shop. Aunt Beryl pronounced Mrs Winson's pies as “the best in all of England”. And they certainly looked enticing. There were endless rows of glistening pies, pasties and sausage rolls gleaming in the light. You could only what lay within that golden pastry. </span></span><span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "times new roman", serif;">Ada Winson was a widow and lived alone in a small cottage. Her husband Arnold had been dead for ten years.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129;">“<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">She came home to find her husband with his head in the stove” Peter Price informed Walter one day “But I bet she <i>killed</i> him and put the old man in one of her pies”</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Banister shuddered.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Then the boy laughed but Walter did not join him.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Apparently there had been a spate of unexplained deaths over the years and none of the cases had ever been solved. Peter Price calculated that the deaths had occurred since the opening of Mrs. Winson's shop.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">"I bet that old cow did it" Peter Price retorted. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Every time Walter walked by the shop he wondered what lurked within the pies and pasties. At night he dreamt that Mrs Winson was digging up bodies in the graveyard and putting them in her pies.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">One day Walter came home to find Mrs Winson in the kitchen with his aunt and uncle. He froze at the door.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129;">“<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Look what Mrs Winson has bought us!” aunt Beryl cried with obvious delight, motioning to the pie on the table.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Mrs Winson smiled thinly at the boy. She was stick thin and very pale. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129;">“<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Come in and say hello to the nice lady” uncle Reg said and beckoned him.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">But Walter suddenly felt sick was fright and pelted out.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">That evening Banister scooped his piece of the pie into a handkerchief and threw it out in the bin.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Three days later Walter observed from his bedroom window as Mrs Winson opened shop early one morning. A small bird suddenly dropped from the tree and lay dying on the pavement. Banister watched as Mrs Winson pondered the wounded creature for several moments. Then she took a brick and crushed the felled bird. Walter fell back from the window in horror.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">A couple of weeks later Walter and Peter decided to buy a bag of sweets so Price put his bicycle against the wall outside Mrs. Winson's shop. Within minutes the widow appeared like a black crow.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129;">“<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Would you kindly remove <i>that</i> from there” Mrs Winson snapped.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129;">“<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">It's a free country!” Peter Price retorted.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129;">“Horrible boy. <span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Do as I say!”</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Peter Price blew her a giant raspberry.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129;">“<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Get away with you. You <i>wicked</i> little boy!”</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">She was hovering over them with a menacing look in her eyes as if she was about to strike. Both boys stepped back in fright and Peter Price begrudgingly complied.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">For the remainder of the summer Banister deliberately avoided Mrs. Winson.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Three weeks before he was due to return home, Peter Price suddenly vanished. Walter was horrified and joined the search party as villagers joined forces to look for the missing teenage boy. But there was no trace of Peter Price. His parents were absolutely devastated and clung to each other for comfort.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">It was highly suspicious and Walter Banister was convinced that Mrs. Winson must be involved. Peter Price had always said she was a murderess and a cannibal. One afternoon Bannister entered her shop determined to confront her.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Mrs Winson emerged from the shadows looking paler and thinner than ever. Her eyes were black as coal. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129;">“<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Welcome, Walter” Mrs Winson cried. She grinned showing sharp white teeth. “Would you like one of my pies? I have one <i>especially</i> for you”</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129;">“<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">What happened to Peter?” Walter demanded with as much bravado as he could muster. He was shaking with fright but determined not to show it.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129;">“<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I only wish I knew” Mrs Winson replied</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129;">“<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">It's <i>you</i>!”</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129;">“<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Me?”</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129;">“<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">You <i>killed</i> him and -”</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129;">“<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Put him in one of my pies?”</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Mrs Winson threw back her head and laughed. It echoed all around them. Walter Banister suddenly felt ashamed of himself. She was standing very close to him now. Her teeth were very sharp and her nails were long. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129;">“<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">What a <i>vivid</i> imagination you have” Mrs Winson said. She took a pie and presented it to him. “Here, take a bite”</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Mrs Winson moved in very close now.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129;">“<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Don't be afraid, I'm not going to <i>eat</i> you”</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Walter Banister tossed the pie out of her hand.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129;">“<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">You evil bitch!”</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Then he ran out of the shop as her laughter echoed everywhere and seemed to reverberate as if it were coming out of the bowels of hell itself. </span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Walter was pale shaking with fright and when they asked him what was the matter, he could not answer. He slept fitfully that night and jumped up in bed, convinced that Mrs Winson had entered his room and was hovering over his bed. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Two days later Walter Banister watched from the back of the car as it pulled out of the village at Mrs Winson in her shop. She had a strange smile on her thin face.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Walter Banister never found out what had happened to his friend but five days after his return to Camden Town a pie was delivered to the house with the name “Peter” etched in puff pastry on top.</span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Strangled Light (by Temeroli deviantart.com)</td></tr>
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Alex Karashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05398068721281907129noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7825899785840631460.post-76255518049235102302017-05-02T06:00:00.000-07:002017-05-02T06:00:12.564-07:00A Message For You <br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Dear Reader,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Firstly, I just want to say a heartfelt thank you to all of you for reading my work and posting such lovely messages.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I am sure you'll be pleased to know that I am working on my first book which is gradually unfolding. It will be a book of five short stories with the life of Heather West at the very heart of the book. Each story deals with very powerful themes and the reader will go on a journey with the characters featured. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Thank you for joining me here and I look forward to exploring characters and their story with you in my book.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">In the meantime, do take a look at The Needle Pulls The Thread and enjoy it again.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I hope to post something new soon.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Love and Peace to you on your journey.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Alex </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>Alex Karashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05398068721281907129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7825899785840631460.post-34176441482659547212016-06-21T14:34:00.000-07:002016-12-09T13:13:42.234-08:00Missing Heather <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">The Angel Born Of Demons </span><br />
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In February 1994, the remains of a young girl were unearthed in the back garden of an unprepossessing house in Gloucester, England. She had been missing for seven years and in the intervening years she had not been forgotten. Her siblings had been searching for their eldest sister since she left home eight days after finishing high school. It was as if she had vanished off the face of the earth.<br />
<br />
Her name was Heather Ann West.<br />
<br />
The missing teenager had endured relentless abuse for much of her young life. She was a strong willed and independent girl. Although she was very much afraid of her parents as one school friend later recalled, she had bravely defied them.<br />
<br />
In early interviews with the police, the Wests spoke disparagingly about their missing daughter. Rosemary West showed little maternal concern for the whereabouts of her first born child. She hadn't reported the girl as missing and seemed indifferent to her plight. Rosemary painted a negative picture of Heather. "She was a stubborn girl, you ask the rest of the family..." Rosemary declared. The very qualities the Wests found unacceptable in their daughter would have been nurtured by other parents. Rosemary intimated that her daughter had lesbian inclinations. She was herself actively bisexual and her antipathy towards her daughter in this respect is frankly bizarre. What Rosemary West neglected to say was that Heather was at odds with her over her lifestyle. The unhappy girl had committed the unpardonable sin of letting a few facts slip about it at school.<br />
<br />
It never occurred to the Wests that Heather might be psychologically and emotionally damaged by the abuse they inflicted on her. It is clear that Heather was deeply unhappy in the last years of her life.<br />
<br />
The Wests were obsessed with Heather being a lesbian. When Rosemary West was pressed further, she explained that when Heather was at junior school she always knew what type of knickers the female teachers were wearing. She also recalled how her daughter had absconded from a field trip because she didn't like the male teachers and how she threatened to put a brick over a boy's head if he ever attempted sexual advances. Apparently this convinced Rosemary West that her sixteen-year-old daughter was a lesbian.<br />
<br />
Frederick West echoed his wife in the conviction that Heather was a lesbian, yet he also portrayed her as a Lolita. On his arrest he informed the police officers that Heather liked to wear low cut tops and never wore knickers. It was all a pack of lies. As far as the Wests were concerned, Heather had to be lesbian if she rejected her father. He had frequently touched and fondled her, even wrestling her to the floor and became violent when she resisted.<br />
<br />
Mae spoke of how wary Heather was of men. She couldn't stand to be in the same room as them. Hardly surprising considering that the only men she had ever known had taken advantage of her and abused her. Yet we know that Heather developed a crush on one of her male teachers at high school. It must have been intense because Frederick West was later called to the headmasters office to discuss it.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Heather West, aged eight. </td></tr>
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What is interesting about Frederick and Rosemary West is how distorted their view of their daughter was. In hindsight, their remarks are very telling. There was clearly antipathy towards her. They spoke so negatively about their missing daughter that it must have jarred. Later when Frederick West confessed to the murder of his daughter, he did so in a flat monotone which appalled those who listened.<br />
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Frederick had allegedly declared that he had made his children and could do what he liked with them. He also believed that it was a father's duty to take their virginity and that their first child should be his.<br />
<br />
Heather did everything in her power to repel her father. And as his insistence on raping her intensified, so did the fight to resist. <br />
<br />
Heather had committed the unforgivable sin of speaking to outsiders about what was going on at<br />
home. And as a result her parents kept a strict eye on her in the final weeks of her life. It is unlikely that she knew about the murderous career of her parents. But she was an intelligent and perceptive girl and may have suspected they were capable of anything. She was determined to leave home as soon as the opportunity arose.<br />
<br />
In the last few years of her life, Heather was having nightmares. As her sixteenth birthday approached she became convinced that "something terrible" was going to happen to her.<br />
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Frederick West was the jocular, odd-job man with an unrelenting work ethic. He was short with simian features, startling blue eyes and bushy black hair. West was swarthy and crudely good-looking. He had suffered three serious accidents resulting in head injuries which drastically altered his personality. West was obsessed with sex. He may have been initiated by his mother who dominated him. At the age of eight, he was taught how to have sex with a sheep by his father.<br />
<br />
Rosemary West was the unstable prostitute who had been sexually precocious from an early age. She claimed to have been raped while still a young girl and regularly slept with her violent paranoid schizophrenic father. She initiated both her brothers and may have been sleeping with her grandfather. In the hands of Frederick West, she expanded her repertoire and acquired a taste for well endowed West Indian men. Rosemary West may have incurred brain damage due to the ECT (Electro Convulsive Treatment) administered to her depressive mother while she was still in the womb. Certainly, she displayed disturbed behaviour as a child and her fits of intense rage as an adult were abnormal.<br />
<br />
Both Frederick and Rosemary had a taste for kinky sex. They were already damaged when they eventually came together. It was the perfect storm. Two severely dysfunctional people coming together. In the early days of their relationship, Frederick was the master and Rosemary the servant. But she superseded him and became the dominant force. She was the one most likely to lose her temper and become violent.<br />
<br />
By the time they were married, Frederick had already murdered his first wife Catherine Costello and possibly others, and Rosemary had almost certainly murdered Costello's daughter Charmaine. Nobody knows for sure what happened to eight-year-old Charmaine West but she almost certainly died at the hands of Rosemary West. Her pitiful remains were recovered in 1994.<br />
<br />
Frederick and Rosemary West were to have eight children; two of which were fathered by a West Indian client of Rosemary's. Heather was born in October, 1970, and the Wests called her their "love child". After Heather, came Mae (she was born May but changed it) and Stephen West. There was only eighteen months between Heather and Mae, and they shared a bond.<br />
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The Wests moved to 25 Cromwell Street while Heather was still a toddler. It was a three-storey townhouse in Gloucester and would be split into two with lodgers inhabiting the top half and the West family living beneath. There was a special room where Rosemary conducted her business. Occasionally the children lived in the cellar which would later became notorious as the Wests torture chamber.<br />
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Life at 25 Cromwell Street was a nightmare for the West children. It was likened by Heather's best friend to living in a prison camp. The children were never allowed out and were expected to do most of the house work.The disciplining of the West children was nothing short of sadism. They were often beaten as punishment. Punched, kicked, slapped and even stabbed Frederick wired the house so he could listen to his wife having sex with her clients and eavesdrop on conversations. He bore holes into walls and doors so he could observe his wife having sex and spy on Heather and her sister Mae dressing and undressing. As the girls reached puberty his insistence on molesting them increased.<br />
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Anne Marie was the daughter of Frederick West and his Scottish first wife Catherine Costello. She was a gentle young girl who had been sexually abused by West and her stepmother Rosemary from the age of eight. At fifteen she was pregnant with her fathers child but was forced to have an abortion after the baby was found to be growing in the Fallopian tubes. Anne Marie had been initiated into prostitution from an early age and was expected to perform with her stepmother. She later escaped Cromwell Street in the dead of night. Her evidence would later be crucial in convicting Rosemary West.<br />
<br />
After Anne Marie left 25 Cromwell Street, Frederick and Rosemary West turned their attentions to Heather. But she was not as submissive as Anne Marie had been and openly argued with her parents. Heather and her sister fought off their father but only one of them would survive. In 2011, Mae revealed that she and Heather had always planned to escape together.<br />
<br />
Heather was an exemplary pupil at high school but years of abuse at the hands of her parents had taken its toll. Christopher Davis later married Anne Marie, and he recalled how withdrawn Heather had became. She had always been quiet, but now she hardly spoke at all. She sat around the house deep in thought. She became a recluse and spent more and more time alone. Heather later confided in Christopher Davis that her dream was to live in the Forest of Dean. She longed to be in the outdoors, among the sanctity of nature away from other people. Mae remembered how Heather never wore shoes and went everywhere barefoot.<br />
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Heather had learned to displace herself from the claustrophobic world she inhabited. Not just because of her temperament, but because it was part of her coping mechanism.<br />
<br />
In the spring of 1987, Heather was an exceptionally pretty, raven-haired sixteen-year-old. She had become infatuated with one of her male teachers. One of her school friend's recalled that Heather was more sexually aware than other girls. Nobody suspected that she was being abused. Nobody investigated why the studious girl refused to shower after sports, often getting detention as a result. Had they investigated further, they might have seen the bruises and weal marks on her body. By the time 25 Cromwell Street yielded it's horrific secrets, Heather was already gone.<br />
<br />
Anne Marie suspected that Heather was ashamed of the lifestyle at Cromwell Street and had made her feelings known. Rosemary West later asserted that Heather disliked her because of all her other men. In the final year of high school, word got round about the peculiar lifestyle at 25 Cromwell Street. Heather, perhaps unwisely, let a few facts slip. And there were still more shocks in store for the unhappy girl. She learned that the father of a school friend was also the father of two of her sisters. Frederick West had always explained away his mixed-race children as a throw back to his fictitious gypsy past. The revelation upset Heather immensely and she confronted the girl who in turn went to her parents It culminated in a showdown between the West Indian and the Wests which resulted in Heather receiving a terrible beating. She had become a liability.<br />
<br />
Of the West children, Heather was the one who most resembled her mother. She was known as a tough girl at high school and nobody messed with her. But she was also a sensitive and perceptive girl who had been abused for most of her life. Her school friends later recalled Heather being particularly unhappy towards the end of term. By the time she sat her final year exams, she had already formed a plan. It was written in code across her exercise books - FODIWL. The code was cracked after she died - Forest of Dean I will live. It had been her long held dream to live by nature in the Forest of Dean where nobody could harm her. There she would be free.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">25 Cromwell Street, Gloucester </td></tr>
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With just weeks to go before she graduated from high school, Heather broke down one afternoon and opened up to her best friend. She said her father cane into her room at night and raped her. She said he was beating her and that her mother said she was a "little bitch" and deserved it. Denise Harrison had seen the bruises and weal marks on her body, and she urged Heather to go back to school and tell the teachers. Harrison told her parents what Heather had confided in her but they dismissed it. They couldn't accept it. They graduated shortly after, and Denise never saw Heather again.<br />
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Heather passed all her exams but never lived to receive the results. It was eight days after she left high school that she disappeared.<br />
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On the 17 June, 1987, Heather attended the party of her half-sister Anne Marie's daughter. But it was evident to everyone that she was not herself. It was also clear that there was friction between Heather and her parents. She would not socialise and stayed at the bottom of the garden. Anne Marie noticed how Frederick and Rosemary would not leave the girl alone. It was two days later that Heather vanished.<br />
<br />
Heather had been pinning her hopes on a job as a chalet cleaner at a Butlins holiday camp in Torquay Her spirits lifted at the prospect of escaping 25 Cromwell Street. "To be honest I felt sorry for her, because it was the first time she'd shown any interest in anything since she left school" Rosemary West later claimed. Her uncle observed how happy Heather suddenly seemed. But it was not to be.<br />
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The night before Heather was due to leave for Devon, a woman called at 9.30 pm to inform her that the holiday camp job had been canceled. Heather was completely devastated and went to bed sobbing. She cried all through the night. Mae shared a bedroom with her. She had never seen her sister like this before - she had always been such a strong girl. Heather's dreams had been shattered.<br />
<br />
The following day, 19 June 1987, was the day Heather disappeared. It was raining hard and Frederick West was unable to work outside. Heather was alone in the house with Frederick and Rosemary West. Nobody living knows what happened to her that day. Only Rosemary West. And she isn't talking. The date is corroborated by Mae and Stephen West. Mae remembered seeing Heather before she left for school that morning. She can't remember what her last words to Heather were, but she distinctly remembers what she was wearing and how desolate she looked. Both Stephen and Mae recall coming home from school around 5 p.m and finding Heather gone.<br />
<br />
Heather was not forgotten in the ensuing years. She was spoken of frequently in the house. Her absence was noted. The three elder West children had always had each other and now one of them was missing. Mae took Heather's absence particularly hard. Both she and Stephen searched diligently for their sister but to no avail. Anne Marie even made a trip to the Butlins holiday camp in Torquay to find her. But nobody had ever heard of Heather. All the while Frederick West had been regaling them with stories about Heather. He had seen her in various destinations and spoken to her and Rosemary even informed the West family that Heather contacted them if she felt like it. But it was all a pack of lies.<br />
<br />
John Bennett believes that Frederick and Rosemary West had made a pact on their last night together. On their arrest, their stories followed each other closely. And over time there would be variations on a theme. Heather had left home to go and work in a holiday camp. She had left with a lesbian in a mini. There had been a "hell of a row" and she had left home. Rosemary gave her £600 to start a new life. Rosemary gave her a good hiding. Rosemary was out shopping when it happened. Heather had been sneering at Frederick. He had not meant to kill her. She had been giving the children LSD. She was a lesbian. She dug her own grave.<br />
<br />
Later when Frederick West confessed to murdering Heather, he gave an unconvincing account of her final moments. He claimed that there had been an altercation in the hallway of 25 Cromwell Street. Heather defied him and as a result he strangled her. The ludicrous exchange was somehow supposed to justify his actions. It cannot wholly be true. Howard Sounes suggests in his book <i>Fred & Rose</i>, that an argument ensued between Heather and her parents which quickly spiraled out of control. Frederick spoke with little emotion. He went into lurid detail about how he dismembered her body which sickened those who heard it.<br />
<br />
Frederick was adamant that his wife was not present at Heather's murder and knew nothing about it. Apparently she was on a three hour shopping expedition when her daughter died. He also claimed that his daughter had not been sexually assaulted before she died.<br />
<br />
When Heather's remains were eventually unearthed, two lengths of chord were also recovered. They were fifteen and twenty-two inches long. There was no clothing suggesting that Heather was naked when she was buried. All of which points to Heather having been subjected to some kind of sexual act, bondage or sex game. Carpet fibers embedded in the chord and what remained of her hair give credence to this theory. Somebody held Heather down while she was being tied up.<br />
<br />
Heather's remains showed clear signs of mutilation. There were missing bones. Part of Frederick West's modus operandi was the mutation of his victims bodies. And this bears all the hallmarks of his handiwork.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fredrick West's confession.</td></tr>
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It was estimated that Heather died around 9.30 a.m in the hallway of 25 Cromwell Street. She was dismembered in a frenzy. And her remains were left overnight in a dustbin beneath the stairs. Shortly after, Frederick West enlisted the help of his son Stephen to dig a hole in the back garden for a pond. Unbeknownst to the boy, he had dug the grave for his own sister. The hole was filled up and a patio laid over it and the Wests celebrated with a barbecue supper over the spot where Heather was buried.<br />
<span style="text-align: center;"><br />
</span> <span style="text-align: center;">I believe that Heather died that rainy morning in June because she resisted her parents that one last time. She was sexually assaulted and put up a fight and that was why she was murdered. We cannot know if it was premeditated or not. But I believe Heather was brave to the very last moment. </span><br />
<span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span>
<span style="text-align: center;">Five years later, Frederick would repeatedly rape another of his daughters and during the course of one of the ordeals, he put his hands around her throat. The act clearly excited him, but the girl thought she was going to die. </span><br />
<br />
In 2005, Barry West gave an account of Heather's death for a tabloid newspaper. In it he claimed that he witnessed Heather's murder through a crack in a door. Heather had returned home in the early hours of the morning and been set upon by her parents. Frederick raped her and after Heather refused a sexual act Rosemary instigated her death. The account is not corroborated by what has already been established about Heather's death and it did not form key evidence. There are also troublesome details. For instance, if Heather was murdered on the morning of the 19 June 1987, seven-year-old Barry West would have been at school.<br />
<br />
There is no circumstantial evidence to place Rosemary West at the scene, yet the logistics of the undertaking suggest that it could not have been carried out alone. Frederick West's insistence that she was absent cannot be wholly true. Even if she hadn't been present or had a hand in it, she certainly knew about it. Considering the kind of relationship Frederick and Rosemary West had, it seems absurd that he would have kept the murder of his daughter a secret. The idea that Frederick West murdered and dismembered his daughter within three or four hours is utterly ridiculous, as John Bennett concluded.<br />
<br />
It's more likely that Rosemary West knew full well what had happened to her first born child and that she and her husband had concocted a story together. They agreed that he would take the can. This is a belief held by John Bennett.<br />
<br />
One of the reasons suggested for Heather's murder, might have been fear of what she would say once she left 25 Cromwell Street. She had already committed the cardinal sin of speaking to outsiders about the goings on at home. And Heather was a spirited girl with a mind of her own.<br />
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By the time Rosemary West was bought to trial, her husband was already dead. He had asphyxiated himself in his cell. None of the jury were convinced by Rosemary West's declaration that she had loved her daughter "very, very, very much". Her antipathy towards Heather was never far away. She hadn't bothered to report her missing and had shown little regard for her whereabouts. She had spoken disparagingly about her and had allegedly told a neighbour that she didn't care whether Heather was alive or dead. The jury were unanimous in finding Rosemary West guilty. The judge recommended that she never be released.<br />
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Heather's funeral took place on Tuesday, 19 December 1995 at St. Michael's parish church at Tinturn, on the Gwent border with Gloucestershire in the Forest of Dean. It was the area that Heather had loved. Her young life was interrupted the morning she died at the hands of her wicked parents. Heather West was a courageous girl who stood up to them. She was brave to the very last moment.<br />
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It had taken seven years, but in the end it was as if Heather had reached from beyond the grave to bring down her evil parents.<br />
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Heather West will never be forgotten.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There is hope (by Bolognist deviantart.com)</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">IN MEMORY OF HEATHER ANN WEST</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">(1970-1987)</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">LOVED ALWAYS</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">NEVER FORGOTTEN </span></div>
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<br />Alex Karashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05398068721281907129noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7825899785840631460.post-12710225947007896342016-04-05T11:30:00.000-07:002017-05-24T12:56:40.830-07:00The Barefoot Child - The Life of Heather West WARNING: CONTAINS DESCRIPTIONS OF STRONG VIOLENCE AND SEXUAL ABUSE THAT SOME READERS MAY FIND DISTRESSING.<span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
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Things are as big as you make them -<br />
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I can fill a whole body, </div>
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a whole day of life </div>
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with worry </div>
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about a few words </div>
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on one scrap of paper; </div>
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yet, the same evening, </div>
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looking up, </div>
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can frame my fingers</div>
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to fit the sky</div>
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in my cupped hands</div>
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~ Lucy Partington </div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Forest Of Dean I Will Live</span></b></div>
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</span></span></span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Beginnings</span></span></span></div>
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</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Heather Ann West was born at 2.45 a.m on Saturday, 17 October 1970.at </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">the maternity unit of the Gloucestershire Royal Hospital. </span></span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">There were no complications for the baby's sixteen</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">-year-old mother who required only a few stitches. </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Rosemary Letts would bottle rear her first born child as she struggled to bring up two further small children who were not her own. Anna Marie was the daughter of her partner and Charmaine was the daughter of her partner's wife and her liaison with an Asian bus driver. The little family were living at that time in a spartan flat at 25 Midland Road in Gloucester which was situated in a run down area housing mostly immigrant Jamaican and Polish families. </span></span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The teenage mother should have been bought under the watchful eye of Gloucester Social Services and monitored but she was not. And so began a pattern that would persist throughout the West story as the warning signs went unheeded by family members,</span> teachers, neighbours, social services and the police.</span><br />
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</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Just weeks after Heather's birth Rose's partner Fred West </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">had already been fined for stealing a tax disc. He </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> had been working as a fitter at Cotswold Tyres in Albion Street, Cheltenham. It was a tough and dirty job and West had resorted to petty crime. </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Presently he was jailed for three months due to an earlier crime in 1969 for stealing fence panels from a building site, Fred West was incarcerated from </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">4 December 1970 until 24 June 1971. </span></span><br />
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</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Motherhood did not come naturally to Rosemary Letts. She</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> treated small children like dolls or toys and quickly lost interest in them as soon as they could walk and became more independent. Years later her solicitor Leo Goatley would recall asking Rose if she ever breastfed her children to be answered with: "tits are for fucking".</span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">25 Midland Road, Gloucester </td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Charmaine West was a defiant and spirited child. </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"You're not my mum! You can't tell me what to do!" she would remind Rose Letts at every opportunity. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Rose never liked Charmaine really" Fred West would later recall, "I turned a blind eye to it because I couldn't do nothing about it" Yet it was West who later informed Rose that "Charmaine was old enough for the strap now". </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">During the bleak months of Fred's incarceration, Rose took her frustrations out on the children."Charmaine disliked her and was antagonistic" remembers Anne Marie "Rose would retaliate by taking it out on me"</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Charmaine Carol Mary West was born at the Alexander Hospital in Coatbridge on 22 March 1963. "She was a very pretty child and would have grown up to be a stunning young woman", says Anne Marie.Her father was of Pakistani origin. "Charmaine's dad was a student in Glasgow and he was really quite bright" Mae West recalls "He worked on the buses to earn a bit of extra money ... and I don't think he knew Charmaine existed until the police told him in 1994" According to Fred West, he was Rena's pimp.</span><br />
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</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Catherine Bernadette</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> Costello was a sixteen-year-old prostitute who could look after herself. She was born on April 14, 1944 in Coatbridge, North Lanarkshire and was an attractive and sturdy young woman. She was known as Rena and had been in and out of trouble with the law since childhood. Those who knew her in Scotland remember her as an "exceptionally nice" girl. She was working as a waitress in a Herefordshire public house called The New Inn in Ledbury when she first met Fred West in 1960. They were married </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">in spite of the fact that Rena was already five months pregnant with another man's child. "My rebellious mother was obsessed with my father and wildly attracted to his strange gypsy looks and bushy brown hair. Nothing anybody said made any difference. She wanted him and that was that", says Anne Marie. </span></span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">On 6 July 1964, Rena bore Fred a daughter in Glasgow. Anna Marie was named after a Jim Reeves song. Her resemblance to her father was striking. They had similar features, dark hair and the same startling blue eyes. Later Anna elected to be called Anne. </span></span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">For two years West lived in Scotland with Rena, close to the home of two notorious paedophiles. They were church elder James Gallogley who was jailed for ten years and Alexander Gartshore who murdered Moira Anderson. Gartshore lived on the same street as Fred and Rena. Before he died, James Gallogley confessed from his cell at Peterhead prison that West was involved in a paedophile ring which preyed on young girls.</span></span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">There is every reason to suspect that Fred West's murderous career began during his time in Scotland where he was said to have accidentally run over a three-year-old boy with his ice cream van. This was the reason he fled Scotland. </span></span><br />
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</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">By the end of 1965, the little family along with two of Rena's Scottish friends, Isa McNeil and Anna McFall, moved into Lackside Caravan Park in Bishop's Cleeve. McFall and McNeil were installed to look after Charmaine and Anne Marie.</span></span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Anna McFall worked in a knitwear factory in Glasgow and had had an unhappy upbringing. She was bought up in impoverished circumstances with an alcoholic mother and a jailbird brother known as 'scarface' McFall. Her only boyfriend had been electrocuted at work and she was eager to make a new life for herself. </span></span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Fred and Rena had an on-off life together. Sometimes Fred had both children and sometimes they were in foster care. Sometimes Rena and Fred West were together and sometimes they were apart. </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">West was becoming increasingly sadistic and violent towards Rena and a</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">s the relationship became more unstable, she wanted to take Charmaine and Anne Marie back with her to Glasgow. Fred refused. </span></span><br />
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</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Rena feared for her life and eventually fled back to Scotland with Isa McNeil in 1966. </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">But she returned to Gloucester in July 1966 to find Fred and Anna McFall now living together in a trailer. </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Later Rena would tell Constable Hazel Savage that her husband was a sex pervert and unfit to raise their children. Savage would take an interest in the West's in the years to come and her persistence would eventually bring both Fred and Rose West to trial.</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span></span><br />
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</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Meanwhile, Anna McFall had developed an infatuation with Fred West. She had stayed behind to look after the two girls.</span></span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">West did his best to keep the two women apart. </span><br />
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</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Fred West found a new job in a slaughterhouse. Writer </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Colin Wilson sees this job in the slaughterhouse as being particularly momentous for Fred. "One thing is clear: that at some stage, West developed a morbid obsession with corpses and blood and dismemberment. There is no evidence that he had shown any such interest thus far. It seems, then, that Fred West's sexual perversion became slowly more obsessive in the period following his marriage and the evidence suggests that necrophilia and a desire to mutilate corpses began during his period as a butcher. It may have been this profession that catalyzed West's morbid fascination with death and mutilation. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Anna McFall or Ann as she liked to be called was an attractive brunette with a "braw Scots accent". She was "a dainty little piece" according to Fred West.</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">.The couple soon began an affair. "Dad said to Stephen in prison that she was the only woman he ever loved" recalls his daughter Mae "but he said that about mum as well" Ann had been trying to get Fred to divorce Rena without success and this may have tipped the balance in their relationship. She was eight months pregnant with his child when she disappeared in July 1967. Ann was last seen alive at a Gloucester fair. </span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fred and Rena</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">According to author Geoffrey Wansell, Fred offered Ann McFall to his younger brother John. She hated him and may have paid for that hatred with her life.</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> The repeated calls for Fred to leave his wife, may also have caused him to flip out.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Contrary to Fred West's gilded reminiscences, there is evidence to suggest that McFall was unhappy and that they were fighting towards the end.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Ann McFall's remains were found in Letterbox Field on the outskirts of Much Marcle in June 1994. She had been decapitated and her body </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">dismembered and buried together with the foetus of her child. Her fingers and toes had been removed. This peculiar ritual was to become part of Fred West's modus operandi. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">A teenage boy named Robin Holt had died</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> in peculiar circumstances just months before. Holt was friendly with Fred West and had known Ann McFall He was a "nice looking" fifteen-year-old lad who Fred West apparently found "sat on a gate crying" on the lane that led to The Willows caravan site in Sandhurst Lane in the summer of 1966. </span><br />
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</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">On 20 February 1967, Robin Holt failed to return home but was seen the following day in Much Marcle. Nine days later,his half naked body was discovered hanged in a disused cowshed. Pornographic magazines with nooses drawn on the models necks were found on a manger near his body. His death was treated as suicide, but the probability remains that Robin Holt was murdered by Fred West.</span></span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">Mary Bastholm was fifteen-years-old and worked at the Pop-In cafe. She knew Fred West because he worked nearby and frequented the cafe. At 8:15 on Saturday, January 6, 1968, Mary was waiting to catch a bus to go play a game of Monopoly with her boyfriend, Tim Merriett who lived in Hardwicke. She was never seen again. A major police hunt was mounted but only a few Monopoly pieces were ever recovered near a bridge that crossed over the Gloucester-Sharpness canal. </span></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">Before she disappeared, Mary was spotted with a man who fitted Fred West's description.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"> </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">It is believed that West abducted and murdered Mary. Fred later admitted to his son Stephen that he had killed Mary, but not to the police. In 2005, Mary Bastholm's brother Peter said: "I'm living a life-sentence now. I'm pretty sure West murdered my sister but her body has never been found"</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Within six months of Ann MacFall's death on 29 November 1968, twenty-seven -year-old Fred West met Rosemary Letts at the main bus station in Cheltenham. It was her birthday:and she was fifteen-years-old.</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Rose Letts was waiting for the number 30 bus and apparently unimpressed by the unkempt Fred West. </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"I was waiting at the bus stop when I noticed this man looking at me. I didn't take to him at all, he was dirty and had work clothes on and looked quite old ... This man started talking to me on the bus and just sat next to me without asking my permission. Within a few minutes he had asked me out. He was like a tramp, a real mess, and I said "no". I thought that was the end of that. Soon after our first meeting I saw him again at the bus stop. He got on the bus with me and started asking me out to pubs ..."</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Despite her description of Fred West as having "ganky green teeth" and claiming "I didn't have any feelings for him", there was an obvious attraction between the two. Fred Wests persistence would eventually pay off. </span><br />
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</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">On her sixteenth-birthday Rosemary Letts moved into Wests caravan. Fred West was twelve years older than Rose Letts and was a convicted child molester and murderer. Yet on the surface he was a mild mannered dullard. According to his brother Douglas:</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Fred was such a gentle guy" who "wouldn't harm a fly". "Dad was well-liked within the family and, according to uncle John, Dad was always easy-going and cheerful" Stephen West says of his father.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Frederick Walter Stephen West was born on 29 September 1941 in Bickerton Cottage in the rural Herefordshire village of Much Marcle. His parents were Walter Stephen West and Daisy Hannah Hill and he was the second of six children: John, David (who died young), Daisy, Douglas, Kathleen and Gwen. Fred's father was a child abuser and sexual deviancy was taken as normal in the West household. At the age of eight, Fred was taught how to have sex with a sheep by his father. </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"According to dad, his dad Walter taught him it was a father's duty to 'break in' his daughters"says Mae West. Fred was his mother's favourite and he was bullied about it at school. Later it would be implied that Daisy West had initiated her son after playing sexual games with him from the age of twelve. His own father had allegedly taught him how to have sex with a sheep. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">West left school at the age of fourteen barely able to read and write and was said to have an IQ of 80. </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">According to author Howard Sounes: "Fred was a sociable, outgoing, chatty man all through his life. He was garrulous and gobby, he would talk to everybody about all sorts of barmy things."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Fred West was short but crudely good looking with simian features. He had long sideburns, dark bushy hair and startling blue eyes.</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> "He could talk the hind legs off a donkey" Mae West said of her father. </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">On the evening of November 28 1958, while riding his beloved Lambretta motorcycle, he collided with a girl riding in the opposite direction. West suffered multiple injuries including a fractured skull and lay unconscious for several days. Fred suffered massive damage to his brain, most notably the frontal cortex. His nose was broken and a leg was shortened making him walk with a pronounced limp for the rest of his life. He suffered violent mood swings and it is evident that the brain damage he suffered had a detrimental affect upon him. Two years later, Fred </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">hit his head in a fall from a fire escape after a girl rebuffed his unwanted advances. He was unconscious for twenty-four hours.</span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO_nfAB86v1onpoUeYaG53MYlbB57Yf5OtiiRYhCOFDphw6Y8qf96RNizTbU7V1a7zlujfeRIn1Uk97aDwyRDIH2m_njTW56-lm1Yf1FcagBxbn6c1IPHozq0_ukGeZDcr_RHplsTvcNA/s1600/Heather+-+rena.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO_nfAB86v1onpoUeYaG53MYlbB57Yf5OtiiRYhCOFDphw6Y8qf96RNizTbU7V1a7zlujfeRIn1Uk97aDwyRDIH2m_njTW56-lm1Yf1FcagBxbn6c1IPHozq0_ukGeZDcr_RHplsTvcNA/s400/Heather+-+rena.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fred and Rena with Charmaine and Anne Marie (in a pushchair) </td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Uncle John said that after the accident, dad completely changed" says Stephen West "He'd sit in the front room, staring at the wall and he wouldn't look at anyone, he wouldn't speak to anyone and if anyone spoke to him he'd bite their head off"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">At the age of nineteen, Fred West stood trial at Hereford Assizes for the "illegal carnal knowledge" of his thirteen-year-old sister. He was accused of having made the girl pregnant. </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Doesn't everyone do it?" he asked. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">At the trial his physician claimed that Fred was suffering from epileptic fits. Subsequently, </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">West was never charged and celebrated his victory by molesting a fifteen-year-old girl in a field.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">It was shortly after his recovery that Fred West met Rena Costello. He would still</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> be married to her when he met his future wife Rosemary Letts at the number 30 bust stop in Cheltenham in 1968. Defying her parents, Letts moved in with West at the </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Lake House Hotel Caravan Park </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">on her sixteenth-birthday. Rose took Anne McFall's position and ostensibly looked after Charmaine and Anne Marie. It was around this time that Rose became amenable to Fred's suggestion that she take over Rena's trade and become a prostitute. She even took Rena's professional name and advertised herself as</span></span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> 'Mandy'. She would proceed to entertain men in the caravan as Rena had done.</span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Rose would switch to full-time paid prostitution in the mid-1980's advertising herself in magazines with the caption:</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Sexy housewife needs it deep and hard from VWE (very well endowed) male, while husband watches - coloureds allowed". </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Stephen West recalls how his mother "made a note of what she charged, and it seemed as if she gave them marks out of ten. It was written very neatly in rows, like accounts. </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">She also used to order men from the book. If she fancied a coloured bloke who was well endowed she would look it up and ring him instead. You could hear her call and count the minutes until there was a ring at the door. There was a red album, and also a money box with a key ... When I opened it, I found a bundle of pictures of dad lying naked on the bed, and mum naked with other men". </span></span><br />
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</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Rose West seemed obsessed with black man and black music. "She was turned on by black men" recalls a former Jamaican client named Andrew Angus. "She showed me a picture of one of her children - a half-caste young girl - and seemed proud that she was half black. Her husband Fred knew I slept with his wife, but he didn't seem bothered by it at all. Rosemary said she had a very open relationship, and said her husband did not mind her sleeping with other men". </span></span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Stephen explains that his mother used to have the window open when she was with a client so she could be heard down the street. He recalls how embarrassing it was to go to the shop. "When we were younger we used to sit and talk about it" says Stephen "We would ask whether mum was sleeping with these blokes or just talking to them because we were still fairly innocent kids and we weren't sure what was happening. I mean you knew, but you didn't like to admit it. Being the eldest Heather would say 'they're doing it alright, why do you think your sister is half-caste?'"</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Rose West later informed a lodger named Elizabeth Brewer that:</span></span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> "when she retired she would spend her whole time having sex". </span><br />
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</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">In 1982, Rose signed a revealing document::'</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I, Rosemary West, known as Fred's cow, give my cunt to be fucked by any prick at any time he so desires without ever saying so" and ending "I must always dress and try to act like a cow for Fred'. </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Rose would also sign another telling document: 'I, Rose, will do exactly what I am told, without questions, without losing my temper, for a period of three months from my next period, as I think I owe this to Fred'. </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Later Fred would admit to the police that he had deliberately groomed Rose. "I met Rose at sixteen and trained her to what I wanted" he declared. </span></span><br />
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</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Tara West was born on 6 December 1977 and named after a hotel that Rose sometimes used with a client. Her father was a client nicknamed Rosco. Rose would go on to conceive a further two children with her Jamaican client - Rosemary junior, nicknamed Ro-Ro, and Lucyanna nicknamed Babs. Rose had a further two children with Fred - Louise and Barry. Barry was born in 1980 and was named after Barry Island: a seaside resort in South Wales and a favourite haunt of the Wests. </span></span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Fred, Rose and the two little girls moved out of the caravan into a two-storey house in Midland Road, Gloucester. </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Heather was born in October 1970. She was</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> a restless child who cried constantly and Rose would have to get up three or four times during the night to see to her. The teenage mother was alone in the house with three small children to care for and constant money troubles. It soon took it's toll on her. Brian Leveson QC, for the prosecution at Rose West's trial two decades later would tell the court: </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"At the age of seventeen, it cannot have been easy for Rosemary West to cope with Charmaine, only ten years younger, Anne Marie, who was six, and baby Heather in a small flat" </span></span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">With her partner in prison, a struggling Rose Letts quickly began to take her frustrations out on the children. In this respect, she was every bit her father's daughter. </span><br />
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</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"It was obvious from the start that Rose had a hell of a temper and was not able to control it" says Anne Marie. </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Rose made the girls do most of the household chores. They did the vacuuming, cleaning, dusting and washing up. They set the dinner table, helped with the cooking. The two little girls tidied their rooms and the rest of the house and did most of the washing and ironing. </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"She would make us do all the household chores despite our ages" recalls Anne Marie, "and if we didn't do them right she erupted. Dong them right, of course, meant doing them Rose's way: there was no other. If you did it wrong you got a hiding"</span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rosemary Letts </td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Rose would hit Charmaine and Anne Marie for not mashing the potatoes properly. </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Your fucking fault. You should have done it properly"</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">. </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">She would pull their hair, drag them by their hair, kick, swear and shout at them. </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The girls would be locked in their rooms and occasionally tied together. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Sometimes Rose would strip Anne Marie and Charmaine and tie them to their beds where they were not allowed to speak or make a sound. She would lock Charmaine all day in her room, with her hands tied behind her back and her legs spreadeagled and strapped to the bed. Rose would go out and deliberately leave Charmaine alone in the flat. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The girls were slapped in the face or had a wet belt across the legs or a broom across the head. Their mouths were taped so when they were hit they couldn't cry out.</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Charmaine remained intractable. </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"She would go out of her way to antagonise and aggravate our volatile stepmother" says Anne Marie. Charmaine</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> wouldn't do anything Rose told her to do because she wasn't her real mother and her real mother was coming back to get her one day. "For a start Charmaine hated Rose and told her so. She never missed a a chance to remind Rose about our real mother" Anne Marie writes in her book. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"You're not my mum, So no" Charmaine defiantly declared. </span><br />
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</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">As the weeks went by, Rose became steadily more violent towards the girls. </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Charmaine still wet the bed and was terrified of the wind that rattled the window panes. Yet no matter how cruelly Rose treated her she would never allow herself to shed a tear.</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"She felt like if she cried, she was giving in" says Anne Marie.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Brian Leveson QC, for the prosecution at the trial of Rose West informed the jury that "there is clear evidence that Charmaine was greatly disliked by Rosemary West" because she detested the child's rebellious nature. Rose</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> admitted that Charmaine "could be very awkward ... disruptive", that "she would shout and throw furniture about ... and wouldn't eat" and that "if she thought I wanted her to do something, she wouldn't do it". making it clear she wanted to "be with her natural mother". </span></span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Shirley Giles and her two daughters, Tracy and Janet, lived above Rose and the girls. They had moved into the house at about the same time as the little family and Mrs Giles's eldest daughter Tracy was only two months older than Charmaine. </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Tracy Giles and Charmaine became best friends. "They used to sit and giggle together and hold hands and generally behave as little girls do" remembers Anne Marie. </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Mrs Giles would later recall how Midland Road was "like a morgue". </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Rose would say that she couldn't cope with Charmaine" recalls Shirley Giles "She ruled Anna Marie and Charmaine with a steel rod, but Charmaine, had a rebellious nature which she didn't like". </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The apple did not fall far from the tree with Roemary Letts. Like her father, she would not stop at sadism to</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> discipline the children. </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">One day Tracey Giles was sent downstairs by her mother to borrow a pint of milk. She walked in and saw Charmaine standing on a chair with her hands tied behind her back with a belt. Rose was holding a large wooden spoon and looked as though she was about to hit her. Rose later informed </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Shirley Giles that "Charmaine had been very naughty and she had to teach her wrong from right".</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Anne Marie recalls: "I remember taking a beating because she had lost a tea towel. She was in the living room, going round in circles, yelling 'Tea towel, tea towel' and I just didn't get it to her quickly enough. I got belted for not stirring the gravy in the right way and not mashing the potatoes properly. Sometimes you felt the back of her hand , but if she wanted to give you a good going-over, she would grab the nearest weapon, so she didn't hurt herself. I was hit across the head with a broom on more than one occasion, and I still have a small scar where she knifed my hand".</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Rose would have made a wonderful concentration camp guard..Torture, both mental and physical would have been her forte. Nothing would have pleased her more than to send many to their deaths and to have unlimited scope to experiment on them", writes Anne Marie in her book <i>Out of the</i> <i>Shadows</i>.</span><br />
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</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Rosemary Pauline Letts was born at Highfield Martenity Home in Northants, in 29 November 1953. Her parents were William Andrew Letts and Daisy Gwendoline Fuller. She was the fifth child of seven: The Letts children were: Patricia, Joyce, Glenys, Andrew, Rosemary, Graham and Gordon.</span></span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Daisy Letts suffered from severe depression and the violent attentions of a diagnosed paranoid </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">schizophrenic husband </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">who sadistically terrorised her and the children for years. </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Andrew Letts remembers, "If he felt we were in bed too late, he would throw a bucket of cold water over us. He would order us to dig the garden, and that meant the whole garden. Then he would inspect it like an army officer, and if he was not satisfied, we would have to do it all over again...We were not allowed to speak and play like normal children. If we were noisy, he would go for us with a belt or chunk of wood. He would beat you black and blue until mum got in between us. Then she would get a good hiding." </span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bill Letts and his daughter. </td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">If Daisy disobeyed her husband she was beaten repeatedly and if the children did not meet with his exacting standards they were beaten too. Bill thrashed his children, pushing one daughter down the stairs and banged the head of another against a brick wall. </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Daisy described her husband as "the heller" to writer Howard Sounes. "We lived under terror for years. We literally suffered hell behind closed doors". </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Bill Letts was under 5"6" inches tall and slightly built, He was a dapper man who always wore a suit and tie. On the surface, he was the perfect gentleman who never drank alcohol and shunned bad language. He spent nine years in the navy and developed an obsessive -compulsive disorder and became fixated with cleanliness.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Six</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> sessions of electro-convulsive treatment (ECT) were administered to Daisy after she suffered a nervous collapse. </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">T</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">he last of these sessions occurred just days before Rose was born. "</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">There has been little research on the use of ECT with pregnant patients, and expert opinion is divided on it but, given the damage ECT can do to the patient, it seems unlikely the foetus would remain unaffected in every case." writes Jane Carter Woodrow. W</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">hen the baby did finally arrive at the Highfield Maternity Hospital at Northam, her behaviour would soon give cause for concern among her own siblings. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The odds were already stacked high against the child. </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Rose Letts showed signs of mental disturbance from an early age. She </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">would develop the habit of rocking herself in her cot and a</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">t night she would keep her older siblings awake as she rhythmically</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> bashed her head against it. A</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">s Rose grew into a toddler she would swing her head for hours until she had hypnotised herself into semi consciousness. She</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> was "a bit slow" and according to Bill Letts as "thick as two short planks". Stephen West described his mother as</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> "not quite right". </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The little girl was so babyish and unintelligent that she acquired the family nickname 'Dozy Rosie' and was taunted about it. Yet she was a pretty child with dark brown hair, olive skin and large brown eyes. Rumours persisted that Daisy Letts was of Maltese origins and both Rose and Heather had dark, </span></span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Mediterranean looks.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Rosie was very clever as a young child in learning how to manipulate dad" remembers her older brother Andrew. </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Bill Letts had already begun to exploit 'Dozy Rosie' and she soon became known in the family as 'Daddy's Girl'. Yet the kind of love that Rose received from her father was distorted and perverted. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Rose Letts was sexually precocious from an early age. </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">At thirteen she was asking boys from the village round or going to their houses where she would invite them to touch her. </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">And she was also masturbating her younger brothers, Graham and Gordon. By the time Graham was twelve, he was having intercourse with his sister. </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Rose was absolutely insatiable. She used to say no woman or man could ever satisfy her" says a former lover, Kathryn Halliday. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">At her trial, Rose would claim that she had lost her virginity at fourteen but in fact she had been having sex with her father since the age of ten. She may have also been sleeping with her grandfather. </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">There was something about her father and grandfather that just wasn't right" says </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Rose's brother-in-law Jim Tyler, Rose also claimed to have been raped while still a young girl. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Rose was a teenager when she met Fred West</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">. "I asked Fred to meet my parents and they took a dislike when he came to our house. Mom said that he was ugly and had a bad attitude and was old with two kids whilst I was only fifteen." </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Daisy explained "Dad (Bill) said he did not want that gypsy anywhere near his daughter" Rose Letts even wrote a letter to Fred West : "It said "Go back to your wife and try and make a go of it" But he didn't take any notice of the letter and turned up again at our door. I began to fall in love with him; he was so persistent and I was so flattered by his determination to be with me".</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Bill Letts was to change his opinion of Fred West in the years to come and </span></span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">would later become a frequent visitor to 25 Cromwell Street where he continued to sleep with his daughter. Fred might have described Letts as "an evil bastard" with "that little round face and little beady eyes," but he may have become a partner in his sadistic sexual practices.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Rose was already pregnant when she and Fred moved to 10 Midland Road in Gloucester with Charmaine and Anne Marie. </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">By the time Rose had given birth to Heather in 1970, the little family were living a few doors away at 25 Midland Road. </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The Wests flat was on the ground floor and had a coal cellar below in the basement. It was compact and Anne Marie remembers it being cold and dark. </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The flat was sparsely furnished with ramshackle curtains and threadbare carpets left by the Polish owner Frank Zygmunt. Zygmunt appears to have been rather of the Wests and there is reason to believe that Rose may have been expressing her gratitude with her body. </span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Baby Heather with Charmain (left) and Anne Marie (right) </td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Heather was born and Fred started doing repair work for the man we rented the flat from. Then Fred went to prison for car crimes. I was only eighteen, and I was pregnant again with you (i.e Mae; ed), I had a twelve-month-old baby, Heather and I had Charmaine and Anne Marie to look after, all in a one-bedroom flat. I made a good friend with the lady upstairs, but I felt very alone, especially at night, and money was really tight" Rose later informed her daughter Mae.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Fred West had spent his incarceration first in Gloucester and then in Leyhill Open Prison in Wotton-under-Edge. During the early months of 1971 it was the beautiful eyes of his baby daughter Heather that West claimed to miss the most. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">It was while he was there that Rose sent him a letter which has been interpreted as having sinister undertones. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>'Darling, about Char. I think she likes to be handled rough. But darling, why do I have to be the one to do it. I would keep her for her own sake, if it wasn't for the rest of the children. You can see Char coming out n Anna now and I hate it.'</i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Rose informed Shirley Giles that Charmaine's natural mother was coming to collect her adding that she "had had enough" of the little girl and that she was "at the end of her tether". </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">A week after her eighth birthday in March 1971, Charmaine West was taken to the casualty department of Gloucester Road Hospital shortly before 7 p.m one evening and treated for a "puncture wound" to her left ankle. The "accident" was possibly incurred by a knife but the hospital did not follow up on it. On the 17 June 1971, Rose, Anne Marie and Charmaine visited Fred West at Leyhill Open Prison. </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">A day or two after the prison visit, Charmaine West disappeared. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Anne Marie came home from school to find Charmaine gone. Rose informed her that Rena had come and collected her. Later when Shirley Giles and her daughter came to visit and Tracey asked after her best friend, Rose replied: "Gone to live with her mother and bloody good riddance.". </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Rose has never said what happened to Charmaine but the defiant yet</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> sad little girl who still wet her bed was either battered or stabbed to death. </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Colin Wilson believes that Rose "simply lost her temper, and went further than usual in beating or throttling her. She was, as Anna Marie said, a woman entirely without self-control; when she lost her temper, she became a kind of maniac." </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Charmaine West was probably murdered in a fit of fury. Rose would stick to a carefully prepared story for the next twenty-four years; Rena had collected Charmaine and she had gone to live with her. </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">In July 1994, Fred West informed his solicitor Howard Ogden, that Rose West had murdered Charmaine by accident: "She grabbed her by the throat and killed her". The declaration may very well have been true. </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Two weeks later Fred West retracted this version of events, claiming that Rose had told him:"I gave her an overdose of aspirin or something because you were trying to find Rena". </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Charmaine's body was dumped among piles of coal in the cellar. Now released from prison, Fred West buried the child in the yard near the back door of the flat. Later when he was hired to build an extension for the landlady, he further concealed Charmaine's body beneath what would become a new kitchen. Her </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">remains would eventually be recovered at 25 Midland Road, on 4 May 1994.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Rena West was murdered shortly after her daughter Charmaine. </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">In August 1971, Rena came looking for her daughter and sought out Walter West, in the hope that he could tell her what happened to Charmaine and spent the afternoon with him.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Fred West agreed to meet Rena at the East End Tavern in Barton Street in Gloucester at 9.30 p.m.. He plied her with drink until she was paralytic and incapable of resisting. Then he sexually molested and then strangled Rena to death in his car. Fred may have taken her body back to 25 Midland Road where he decapitated and dismembered her body much like he had done to Anne McFall. He buried her remains in Letterbox Field under a hedgerow near Yewtree Coppice. </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">A little red boomerang with</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Boomerang Woomerang printed on the side </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">was found with her remains. It had belonged to Charmaine West.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Rena's married lover John McLachlan was interviewed by Andrew O'Hagan for his book <i>The Missing</i>. On McLachlan's left forearm, just above his wrist was a little tattoo, which read 'Rena'. "Rena just wanted to live in peace with her kids. That was all she ever wanted," </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">John McLachlan said. </span></span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">With Rena finally out of the way, Fred West was now free to marry Rose.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"We married in January 1972" said Rose "Even the marriage was rushed. Fred was fixing an old car half an hour before we were due at the Registry Office. I had to beg him to take off his overalls. His brother John witnessed the marriage, and another friend of Fred's who had so many aliases he had to scribble out the first name he wrote on the certificate".</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The marriage took place on 29 January, 1972. Fred West signed the marriage certificate, designating himself a 'bachelor'. Rose did not object which indicates that she knew full well that Rena West was dead. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></span>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">25 Cromwell Street, Gloucester </td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Fred West's brother the bearded John West was described as a "gentle giant" by his family and a "loving, caring father, uncle and grandfather". But the evidence suggests that he regularly had sex with Rena and Rose with Fred's full consent. He was also said to have had sex with Anne Marie more than 300 times and to have casually raped one of the West children. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">John West was implicated in the murders of Ann McFall, Rena and Charmaine and</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">may have been involved in sex attacks on some of the girls who died at 25 Cromwell Street. West worked as a dustman and may have used his dustcart to discard the bodies and possessions</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> of the Wests victims, or to get rid of parts of the bodies of the nine victims who were buried </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">in the house and cellar of 25 Cromwell Street. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Cromwell Street was not regarded as a good area but had once been a desirable neighbourhood. </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Like the flat in Midland Road, 25 Cromwell Street was owned by a Polish man named Frank Zygmount. </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Most of the houses had been sub-divided into into flats and bedsits. At the end of number 25 was a car park with a cut through to the main shops which Rose often used when she went shopping. A single-storey corrugated hut stood at the side of the house, used by Seventh Day Adventist's which was presided over by Paster L. Lovek in the 90's. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Number 25 was larger than many of the neighbouring houses and had its own garage at the back. It was three storey and painted tan. The front door had a horse shoe above it and there was an imitation gas lamp attached to the wall of the porch. It was described as a "temple to Formica" and the rooms were small and claustrophobic and there was a creaky central staircase. 25 Cromwell Street also had an attic room and boasted an extensive cellar with a separate set of stairs down to it at the front of the house. The main entrance to the house was at the side of building </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">and because street lighting was poor, number 25 was particularly dark at night. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">During that autumn, a pretty seventeen-year-old girl named Caroline Owens was installed as a nanny. The Wests lived in the lower part of the house, ground floor and cellar and the lodgers lived in the upper part. </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Sometimes people would stay a few days and then go, it was the normal circumstances we lived in" recalls Anne Marie "No one questioned whether people stayed or left" </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Shaun Boyle, who was the boyfriend of one of the tenants, said 25 Cromwell Street was "well known as a place where drifters and drop-outs and teenagers who had been kicked out of home could look for bedsits. You'd never question it if someone moved on". </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">In the autumn of 1972 a pretty seventeen-year-old girl named Caroline Owens was installed as a nanny..But she</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> became increasingly uncomfortable with the atmosphere at 25 Cromwell Street. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"At nineteen-years-of-age, the words that best described Rose would be 'simple-minded'" writes Caroline in her book <i>The Lost Girl</i>. In spite of this she was "quite a pretty girl, with dark wavy hair and big brown doe eyes". Rose had, "a whiny, drippy way of talking that at times, I found very grating". Her "ear bursting howls" when she yelled at the children stunned Caroline and Anne Marie into silence. "While two-year-old Heather and four-month-old May (later changed to Mae) would also instantly shut up at the sound of that scream, this only worked on them for a minute or two". They were too young yet to be smacked around the head like Anne Marie. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Rose West would disappear into a bedroom with clients while Fred West spoke incessantly about sex</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">.</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">“According to him, he was God’s gift to women,” says Caroline. “Once you’d been with Freddie, you wouldn't go anywhere else, he’d say. In reality, he was a short little man with piercing blue eyes, a flat, wonky nose and thick lips that hid a gap in his front teeth. I couldn't see how anyone would find him attractive".</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> Rose began to make advances at Caroline and after six weeks she </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">fled 25 Cromwell Street.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Shortly after on the 4 December 1972, Caroline was hitchhiking home when she was picked up by Fred and Rose in their grey Ford Popular.</span></span><br />
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</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Fred looked in the rear view mirror and asked if I’d had sex with my boyfriend and then he said to Rose 'have a look' and she started molesting me " remembers Caroline "He stopped the car, turned around in the seat and punched me until I was knocked out. I was tied up and my mouth was taped. They sneaked me into the house and it was 12 hours of sexual assault, mostly by Rose"</span></span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Caroline was beaten, raped and indecently assaulted. </span><br />
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</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">“They spoke words to me that I will never forget" says Caroline "They said, ‘We are going to keep you in the cellar and let our black friends use you and, when they have finished with you, we will kill you and bury you under the paving stones of Gloucester. There are hundreds of girls there ... the police haven’t found them and they won’t find you!’</span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Caroline Owens </td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The following day Fred dropped Caroline off at the launderette with Rose and two of the children, on a promise that she would return as their nanny and live at Cromwell Street. Benjamin Staniland who was lodging at Cromwell Street arrived at the launderette and entered into conversation with Rose. </span></span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">With Rose distracted, Caroline took her chance and escaped. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">She reported the rape but had the misfortune to be interviewed by a particularly officious police officer who frightened her. She withdrew the accusation when the case came to court. The Wests pleaded guilty to a reduced charge of indecent assault and were fined £25 each. For years, Caroline Owens now Roberts would have nightmares and be plagued by "survivors guilt".</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">In an interview with </span><i style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The Independent</i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> in 1998, Caroline said: "Not a day goes by when I don't think about the girls who didn't make it. Just three months after I escaped, the Wests killed their first victim - their baby-sitter, Lynda Gough. If I had gone through with a rape charge against Fred West back in 1972, Lynda and the other girls would still be alive. When they started finding the bodies I felt terrible. I just kept thinking, why didn't I say something?"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">In 2014, Caroline revealed that she had forgiven Rose West and written to her in prison. </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">“I have forgiven Rose West. I had to do that for my emotional recovery and I am glad I have. I wanted to write to her to tell her she has my forgiveness" says Caroline“I asked her once more to reveal what she knows about the murders. I think that would help a lot of people." </span>But she also said that it was the police who snubbed her claim that has caused her the "most distress". "I blame them for the fact Rose and Fred didn't get a prison sentence for what they did to me. I am certain that would have saved some of their victims".</span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"If I had got caught with what mum and dad did in the seventies with that girl Caroline Owens I would have expected to be put away" said Stephen West years later "But all they got was a fine. It was like a green light. You know, go for it".</span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Lucy Partington disappeared on 27 December, 1973 and was later found to be a victim of the Wests. Her cousin the writer Martin Amis described in his memoir <i>Experience</i>, how an average domestic day at 25 Cromwell Street was: "a scarcely credible inventory of troglodyte squalor, including theft, violence, incest, rape, sexual torture, whoredom, pimpdom, peeping-tomdom, pornography, child prostitution and paedophilia".</span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Fred West was regarded by many of his neighbours as a very hard working, friendly and likable man. A man who got on well with everyone. On the surface West seemed like a nice man. “Jovial. You’d think he was charming, you really would.” said Mae in 2011.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">One regular visitor to 25 Cromwell Street was a nineteen-year-old girl named Lynda Gough. She was the girlfriend of Benjamin Staniland, and was eventually seduced by Rose West and eventually shared a bed with her and Fred..Lynda soon became a nanny for the Wests children. </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">In April, 1973, Lynda Gough may have been led into the cellar at 25 Cromwell Street expecting kinky sex. Fred West was a pathological liar yet his account of how Gough may have allowed him to suspend her from the ceiling in anticipation of erotic rituals and sex rites may be true. </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">But she cannot possibly have imagined what was about to happen next. </span><br />
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</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">The Young Women </span></span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Lynda Carole Gough (born 1 May 1963): April 1973 A Co-op seamstress. Lynda was born within months of Rose West. According to Caroline Roberts in her book <i>The Lost Girl</i>: "One regular visitor was a nineteen-year-old girl named Lynda Gough. She was eventually seduced by Rosemary. Lynda Gough soon moved into the house as a nanny for the Wests' children, and was eventually sharing a bed with Fred as well as Rose". Lynda had black magic magazines and was described by Fred West as "a bit fucking weird". Gough was an adventurous and impetuous girl. "Both her father and I felt, let her have have her head for a bit, she'll come round" explains June Gough. But she never did. The last confirmed sightings of </span> Lynda were in March/April 1973. Following her disappearance Gough’s mother June went to 25 Cromwell Street and was informed by Rose West that her daughter had moved in order to work in Weston-super-Mare. June noticed that Rose was wearing her daughter's slippers and that some of her clothes were hanging on the washing line in the garden. Lynda Gough's remains were recovered under the ground floor bathroom at 25 Cromwell Street.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lucy Partington</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Carol Ann Cooper (born 10 April 1958):.November 1973. Cooper was living in a children’s home in Worcester when she disappeared while walking home from the cinema. She was reported missing. Her remains were found under the cellar floor of 25 Cromwell Street in 1994. Carol was an unhappy fifteen-year-old known as "Caz". "All she wanted was to be loved" her friends maintained years later.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Lucy Katherine Partington (born 4 March 1952): 27 December 1973. A twenty-one-year-old student at Exeter University and cousin of writer Martin Amis. She vanished from a bus stop between Cheltenham and Evesham after visiting a friend. Partington spent Christmas with her family in Cheltenham and visited a friend. She disappeared after leaving to catch a bus home. "How anyone could just vanish in three minutes completely baffles me" Margaret Partington said of her missing daughter. There is strong evidence to suggest Lucy had been kept alive for at least several days. A week after she disappeared, Fred went to a hospital in the early hours of 3 January 1974 with a serious laceration to the hand. He is believed to have sustained the injury while dismembering the body. Lucy Partington's remains were discovered in the cellar of 25 Cromwell Street in 1994.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Thérèse Seiegenthaler (born 27 November 1952): 26 April 1974. A twenty-one-year-old student at Woolwich Polytechnic. She left her lodgings in South London to hitchhike to Ireland but disappeared. A friend had warned her about the dangers of hitchhiking but the Swiss student had laughingly replied: "I can look after myself. I am a Judo expert". Thérèse was reported missing. Her remains were found in the cellar of 25 Cromwell Street in 1994. Her mother Klara died of a heart attack in 1983, saying on her death bed: "I am going to join Thérèse".</span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Shirley Hubbard (born 26 June 1959): 14 November 1974. The fifteen-year-old left a work experience course in Droitwich to return home but did not arrive. A friend described Shirley as having " a nice smile" which meant that she "could get her own way". Shirley's remains were found in the basement of 25 Cromwell Street; her head was completely covered in tape with only a three-inch rubber tube inserted to allow her to breathe.</span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Juanita Marion Mott (born 1 March 1957): April 1975. The eighteen-year-old disappeared after going for an evening out with a friend. "She was leggy and gangly" according to a friend, with skin that always "looked tanned" Juanita had been a lodger at 25 Cromwell Street for some months, but just before her disappearance she had moved out to live with a friend of her mother's in Newent. Juanita was described as being a "very strong-willed, independent girl" who was "always on the go - nobody would know where she was". Her remains were found in the basement of 25 Cromwell Street in 1994.</span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Shirley Anne Robinson (born 8 October 1959): May 1978. Last confirmed sighting 9 May 1978, At eighteen, Shirley was described as "extremely withdrawn and sullen" and had lesbian girlfriends older than herself. Robinson was bisexual and a lodger at 25 Cromwell Street. "The Wests had told Shirley they had an open marriage" recalls lodger Elizabeth Brewer "Fred didn't seem to mind his wife with another man" Robinson disappeared after becoming pregnant with Fred’s child..She was eight months pregnant and her dismembered remains and the remains of the foetus were discovered in the garden of 25 Cromwell Street in 1994. Of Shirley, Fred West was said to have told his brother-in-law Jim Tyler: "She wants to get between me and Rose. She wants Rose out so she can take over and take her place. I'm not having that, shes got to fucking go". On 26 February Fred informed the police: "I hit her onto the floor and then I strangled her" He proceeded to shock DC Hazel Savage by the detached and contemptuous manner in which he recounted how he dismembered and disposed of his former lover and the mother of his unborn child. After her murder, the Wests informed Elizabeth Brewer who was friends with Shirley Robinson that she had gone back to Germany to live with her father. "I was told she probably wasn't coming back" Brewer recalls. Fred added a characteristically lurid aspect to the story: "He went on so much about her wanting to get my knickers off, after that, to be honest, I was quite lad she had gone"</span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Alison Jane Chambers (born 8 September 1962): September 1979. A seventeen-year-old who had grown up in various children's homes after the break up of her parents marriage. Alison was described by a member of staff at Jordan's Brook in Gloucester as being "obviously insecure" and prone to exaggeration particularly about her boyfriends. "It was as if she wanted constant attention" She was working for a firm of solicitors under a Youth Training Scheme. Alison ran away from the children's home in autumn 1979 and was never seen again. She had found her way to 25 Cromwell Street and wrote a letter to her parents: "I am at present staying with a homely family and look after their five children and do some of the housework" Alison's remains were found in the garden of 25 Cromwell Street.</span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"I know how they were killed" Fred West explained towards the end of his life "Vibrator. Pushed in with Rose's foot. That big bastard. That's why Shirley's baby was fucking up the wrong place. West said he watched his wife do it. "Obviously she bound their mouths up with that fucking tape round their gobs ... she'd push that vibrator in as far as she could ... then get hold of their legs and just push it in with her foot"</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">25 Cromwell Street </td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; text-align: center;">The vibrator in question was more than a foot in length and four inches in diameter."She did so much damage to them with that, that she had to fucking kill them" claimed Fred West. </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">It was this that killed Alison Chambers. Rose told Fred "I put her on a bloody vibrator and let her wriggle on that" and had then confessed "And she was a beautiful young juicy thing ... She hadn't been fucked much" Why did you kill her? 'Oh, I fancied her,' she said".</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Detective Superintendent John Bennett who led the investigation also gives credibility to this view, "I firmly believe that Rose murdered those girls and Fred disposed of the bodies".</span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Rose West had shown little restraint with her own children and would have been unlikely to have shown restraint with vulnerable young women in her grasp. "She wanted to hurt women," asserted Fred West. "She'd have to, to do what she's done to them" Later Fred West would inform the police that he had no intention of murdering the young women. "You see, you've even got the killing wrong" he said You're trying to make out that I just went out and blatantly killed ... nobody went through hell. Enjoyment turned to disaster".</span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Of the nine women who were found at 25 Cromwell Street, less than half were reported as missing. The theory that Fred West pulled out the fingernails and cut of the fingers of the victims while they were still alive, as well as stubbing out cigarette butts on their flesh is not corroborated. Writer Geoffrey Wansell believes that this was part of the Wests repertoire of torture but Brian Masters believes that Fred was a chronic compulsive liar prone to embellishment. West later told his appropriate adult Janet Leach that he cut off the fingers and toes of his victims to foil identification.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Angels Born Of Demons </span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Rose West's brother Graham Letts recalls how "eerie" the atmosphere was within 25 Cromwell Street. The immaculately turned out West children with their impeccable manners did not laugh and were unnaturally subdued.</span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Whenever we walked into the house, there was never any noise. Even with nine or ten children around, you could hear a pin drop. Barbara (his wife) and I felt that it was probably because Rose was so strict with them. If the children looked like playing up, just a half-glance from Rosie was enough. There was no shouting or screaming. It reminded me in some ways of our mom and when were kids. Rosie was every bit as strict, and seemed to be using the same tactics. If you don't do as I say you'll regret it"</span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Barbara Jones was a lodger at 25 Cromwell Street and remembers "little Heather" being shy and quite nervous. It would take a lot for her to open up and to come to her. Barbara couldn't understand why. Heather knew her but would still back off sometimes.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">In her book </span><i style="font-family: times, 'times new roman', serif;">The Lost Girl</i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">, Caroline Roberts describes the West children as "angels born of demons"</span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Joe Hefferan was a neighbour of the Wests for twenty-two years:"They were a lovely family. I used to say hello to the children as they were coming and going from the house to school" Hefferan recalls "I knew Heather, and I was shocked when I heard what had happened"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Ernest and Olive Miles moved into their house a few doors away from the Wests, on the corner of the street, in 1946. "Fred always seemed like a nasty piece of work to me" recalled Ernest in 2005 "The only time Fred ever spoke to me was in anger, when I found him pushing my car with his van, bumper to bumper. I came out to complain and he gave me a load of foul-mouthed abuse." Olive Miles adds: "One day, Mrs West passed by with a young, pregnant woman who she said was lodging at her house. Later, she said the girl had her baby and had left the house. I realised afterwards that poor woman was one of her victims."</span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Maria Del Medico was a child when she and her brother visited 25 Cromwell Street with their father. The Wests lived near their house in Gloucester and her father bought pornography from Fred West and she played in the street while he went inside. Her had met West in a pub and they got on well. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"I remember Fred standing in that kitchen, pouring Corona into a glass. He had huge sideburns and yellow-green teeth. He smelled of body odour. He hadn't washed for years". </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Maria under five when her father began abusing her, ""Because of what my father was doing to me, I was frightened of men - and I was very frightened of Fred West". </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Once when I was seven I found myself alone with him. Dad was upstairs. I don't know what Fred West was saying, but a wave of fear came up from my chest and I ran outside ... I was horrified to think how close I had been to those people, even as an adult". </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB0Xt19sl3HcaAtJGAz910c__trCFX-sZNQLQ-cpqxPykUz3eQu5thsjU1r4lq98IU2gexENH_BOeseo78rJHTHRiNonW4nKnh87ms7Ckl09wbtkeq7IIkV8v6Y-2lgZ2iusx-Qoguu_0/s1600/Heather+family.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB0Xt19sl3HcaAtJGAz910c__trCFX-sZNQLQ-cpqxPykUz3eQu5thsjU1r4lq98IU2gexENH_BOeseo78rJHTHRiNonW4nKnh87ms7Ckl09wbtkeq7IIkV8v6Y-2lgZ2iusx-Qoguu_0/s400/Heather+family.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12.8px;">Family photo 1985. Fred West is in the middle. Heather is far right.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"I remember the West children particularly well. I'd see Stephen, Anne Marie and Mae most times but the one I got on best with was Heather. I remember loving her hairstyle. I admired her sense of independence and strong will too, although I expect it's why they killed her" says Maria.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">When the Wests were in the news in 1994 for the Cromwell Street murders everything began to come back to Maria. "I recognised everything, the palm beach wallpaper, the layout of the furniture. I remember Fred and his rotten teeth, ridiculous sideburns and fluorescent orange shorts as if it were yesterday."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">It was the horror of realising what Fred and Rose had done in the years Maria visited 25 Cromwell Street that led her to bring her own father to justice. She was under five when he began abusing her. "Nobody would believe you" he threatened her, if she ever tried to speak. The abuse stopped when she was fourteen and in 1986 she called ChildLine. After a series of emotional phone calls Del Medico was able to go the police.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 15.3333px; line-height: 19.9333px; text-align: center;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 15.3333px; line-height: 19.9333px; text-align: center;">"In my mid-twenties when the West murders came to light I decided it was time my father paid for what he had done" says Maria. In July, 1994 her father was sentenced to 21 years and six months, serving each of the five counts concurrently.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Fred and Rose had been sexually abusing Anne Marie since the age of eight. The abuse began one day when they tied the little girl up in the cellar and deflowered her - as painfully as possible - with a vibrator. Her father also raped her. "I was told I should be grateful and that I was lucky I had such caring parents who thought of me ... I was led to believe that all loving parents were the same" says Anne Marie. After that, she was abused steadily and regularly. Fred would rape her when Rose was not around.."My father's abuse continued without a break until I ran away from home at fifteen" says Anne Marie "From the time I was ten it was a regular thing, I didn't object because it was the only way I knew of getting his affection".</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Not only was Anne Marie abused by her father and stepmother, but by clients who came to her basement room and by her uncle, John West. Bill Letts also raped Anne Marie over a period of years. On one occasion when she was twelve-years-old, Anne Marie ran into her stepmother's bedroom crying. "Grampy's going to sleep with me!" Rose snapped back:"Go back to bed. He's not going to eat you; he's only going to fuck you ... I am sure you will love that".</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">By the time she was fifteen, Anne Marie was already pregnant with her father's child. It proved to be an ectopic pregnancy when the baby was found growing in the fallopian tubes and she was forced to have an abortion. Anne Marie eventually fled 25 Cromwell Street after a teacher noticed bruising on her body and Social Services visited the house. Rose West had beaten Anne Marie again after they left and it was then that she escaped.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Stephen West shared the top-floor front with his baby brother Barry, Heather and Mae were underneath. "Heather and I shared a room up until she disappeared" says Mae. Rosemary and Lucyanna were put in Shirley Robinson's old room, with Tara and Louise sharing the backroom directly overhead.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Every effort was made to keep the children away from other adults or situations that might arouse suspicion. They were not allowed to play with other children and were confined instead to the back garden and cellar play room. They visited the houses of other relatives only when Fred and Rose were there too. School friends were not allowed back to 25 Cromwell Street and the West children were forbidden from visiting their homes. "We were never allowed any friends to stay with us and we weren't allowed to stay with them" remembers Mae "They wanted the family kept really tight" Stephen recalls, "I didn't have many friends for the simple reason that mum told them to fuck off when they came to the door" Stephen asserts that his mother "was so rude it was funny, like a Basil Fawlty routine only ten times as vicious"</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfvw7voIsM7RUjJgSW_rSViCLBbzxgN0M3FuU58o6KxoafCqJnUFjPbO60o332IHD_v76PwimOlbQMAFGPDKcUhQykag7qTpCbkArSyYS0nnPDEU-399XzxvFmxTV1hhy4DHNSnx00al0/s1600/Heather+child.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfvw7voIsM7RUjJgSW_rSViCLBbzxgN0M3FuU58o6KxoafCqJnUFjPbO60o332IHD_v76PwimOlbQMAFGPDKcUhQykag7qTpCbkArSyYS0nnPDEU-399XzxvFmxTV1hhy4DHNSnx00al0/s400/Heather+child.jpg" width="373" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Heather, aged 6</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"It was like they were living in a prison camp" Heather's best friend Denise Harrison recalls. But it was the only life the children knew. "We knew our life was different but we weren't envious of others" says Mae West,"This was our lot and we were going to do the best we could".</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Mum and dad wouldn't have changed if the Pope had knocked on the door and said 'Treat your kids better', they would have told him to fuck off as well. Funnily enough none of all this made a real impression on us as children. It's what you got used to, it was normal life to us. We knew no better. All we thought was that these were mum and dad's moods and tempers"" says Stephen West. "We were tough kids and looked after each other because of what we went through"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Rose West punched her children in the face and stabbed them with kitchen knives, jabbing repeatedly in a frenzy until they were covered in cuts. "We were so scared of her when she was younger because she was so nasty" says Mae "She'd hit one of us and then she'd want to hit us all because she was in the mood"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Mum hit us for no real reason" says Stephen "It could be anything. She made reasons up, like if the dishcloth went missing. She would stand there screaming, 'Where is the dishcloth'" You'd be running around trying to find it and she beat us until we found it"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"She was certainly not bright and not at all articulate" writes Detective Superintendent John Bennett in <i>The Cromwell Street Murders </i>of Rose West "She had a quick temper and was as foul mouthed as her husband, for there seemed no words that she would not use nor anything that embarrassed her"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">One morning in 1983 when Stephen was ten, Rose rang the school and demanded that he come home immediately. When the boy arrived, his calmly told him to go into the bathroom and ordered him to undress. His hands were then tired together with wire and he was ordered to lie face down on the floor so she could tie his hands to the base of the toilet. "Mum looked so pleased with herself. She was completely calm as she tied my feet together" recalls Stephen. Then she proceeded to beat her son with a leather belt for twenty minutes standing on his legs so he could not move: "She kept whacking me with the belt, always the buckle end, and she aimed it at the base of my spine" Then she kicked him in the stomach. "She kept shouting out, 'What have you done wrong? What have you done wrong?' Eventually she informed her son that he had stolen some magazines from upstairs, but he protested that he had not. Rose beat him again and then left the bathroom for ten minutes before returning again. "She told me in a really nice, sickly sweet voice, to get dressed and go back to school".</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Stephen was bleeding badly from where he had been thrashed and bruised from where he had been kicked in the stomach. He wept all the way to school and later on the way home told Mae what had happened. "I went through the front door at exactly the same time as my elder sister Heather arrived home. Heather gave mum a note from her school saying they had confiscated some sex magazines from her. Heather was really worried she was going to get told off but mum just said: 'Don't worry, Stephen got your beating'. She laughed and carried on making the tea. Heather felt really guilty. I was glad mum didn't hit her as well".</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Although not as volatile as his wife, Fred West's rages could be unpredictable. One night he came in late from work. Heather was ironing in the living room and she informed him in a light hearted manner that his meal would be spoiled yet again. Fred thrust a quick hard punch to her shoulder knocking Heather several feet sideways. His anger sated, he sat down to eat his dinner.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2nzg3uGif-9SsDr6LI7ocGlXbKFARJ95XSQq3B5XrfpGpa3YCPuuZMNzqgkUQx3gBIBJs5ErOzd3AH1RmbE-eE-Qrf2PG7RiPJxdyucewvV7I1KhS7Wy7zlxrJGtyF7M8KxwX_tZIQyo/s1600/Heather%252C+Stephen+and+Mae+as+children.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2nzg3uGif-9SsDr6LI7ocGlXbKFARJ95XSQq3B5XrfpGpa3YCPuuZMNzqgkUQx3gBIBJs5ErOzd3AH1RmbE-eE-Qrf2PG7RiPJxdyucewvV7I1KhS7Wy7zlxrJGtyF7M8KxwX_tZIQyo/s400/Heather%252C+Stephen+and+Mae+as+children.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(from left) Heather, Stephen and Mae </td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">When the elder children reached the age of seven, Rose demonstrated washing and ironing for them. From then on they were expected to do their own laundry. They were expected to do the ironing, scrub the kitchen, scour the toilet, feed the babies and change their nappies. Stephen West remembers his sister vacuuming at the age of eight. From the age of ten, the children cooked their own meals in the small kitchenette Fred West had built as part of the extension. "We had jobs to do every single day when we came home from school, in the living room, kitchen or bathroom" he says "We used to come home and do it straight away without talking. If you spoke or if it wasn't done properly, Mom would go mad" At night the children would lie in bed and talk endlessly about the house in the country they were going to run away to and live in forever together.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Heather attended St Paul's Infants and Junior School in New Street moving up to Hucclecote Comprehensive School when she was eleven. Mae and Stephen attended Hucclecote with Heather and they went to school together and often came home together.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The West children were not popular at school. "We would have been treated like other kids if mum hadn't dressed myself and Heather like boys" says Mae "It was so bad we packed another set of clothes and shoes in a bag and changed as soon as we got outside the house" The androgynous appearance of the girls did not stop at the school uniform. "We'd even have short back and sides as Mum couldn't handle combing long hair" recalls Mae.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"We had one set of school clothes and one set of play clothes and that was our wardrobe" says Stephen West, "We'd get a grant for the uniform because we were so poor. It was always Co-op starched shirts and every item of clothing was three sizes too big like a clown's suit" remembers Mae.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">All three were given bus money, but they saved the money and walked the four miles to school as fast as they could. There were only eighteen months between Heather and Mae and they shared a bond. Both girls were having to contend with the sexual attentions of their father. "Because we went through it at the same time, Heather and I didn't have to warn each other, we knew it was coming and we tried to stick by each other" says Mae. As Geoffrey Wansell writes in <i>An Evil Love</i>:: "Heather West and her younger sister Mae had been fighting a running battle to repel their father's sexual advances for four years, a battle that had intensified as the months had passed, fanning still further Frederick West's determination to possess and subdue his wife's eldest child"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Mae says that she and her sister "had decided that we would never give in and let him have sex with us" But although Heather did everything in her power to fight her father off, she did not always succeed. Anne Marie and her then partner Erwin Marschall spent one night at 25 Cromwell Street. In the middle of the night, he heard a prolonged scream lasting between ten and minutes. It was the voice of a young girl and Erwin Marschall could make out the words, "Stop it, daddy" and "No, no, please no" from the cellar. In the morning Rose West informed Marschall that it was just "Heather having a nightmare". He had also noticed how downcast and reticent Heather seemed before going to bed. Rose informed him that it was because Heather was backward and didn't talk very much. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Coming up to twelve, Heather took up smoking and drinking alcohol. She went shoplifting and in August 1982, was caught stealing from WHSmith in Gloucester city centre. Heather was charged and signed a note admitting three other offences, but because of her age the case did not go to court.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnC_U-Zp_xn6k9UTHCdb92m1gR95__zLKcre3iwoXhpoTYW346ciFCQnUSRP70kZ0j8aeEZnwIWUrDMpaW0YoVT4Gv_8ghHv0VxfM4RzXTXjR9XzXulvii-7Wyw0Y8WEMH5yIEWnCNboc/s1600/Heather+-+Mae+and+Stephen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnC_U-Zp_xn6k9UTHCdb92m1gR95__zLKcre3iwoXhpoTYW346ciFCQnUSRP70kZ0j8aeEZnwIWUrDMpaW0YoVT4Gv_8ghHv0VxfM4RzXTXjR9XzXulvii-7Wyw0Y8WEMH5yIEWnCNboc/s400/Heather+-+Mae+and+Stephen.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(from left) Mae, Heather and Stephen</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Heather was known as quite a tough girl at school and people didn't mess with her. "I hung around a lot with my sister Heather" recalls Mae "We went through a lot together and understood each other. She'd had me in trouble at school because she smoked and I didn't. But I didn't mind"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"We got on very well together and were quite happy playing silly games as we walked home from school" says Mae "Heather blindfolded me as I tried to walk without seeing and we smoked rolled up paper towels with leaves in them. We didn't play like normal kids. We'd go to derelict houses in the docks and chase rats"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Anne Marie met a boy named Christopher Davis on the CB radio and they began to live together at the Prince of Wales public house in Gloucester. In 1982, the couple reluctantly moved back to 25 Cromwell Street after they left the pub with nowhere to go. Chris noticed the profound effect living at 25 Cromwell Street was having on Anne Marie and she told him what had happened to her as a child. She begged Chris not to say anything to Fred and Rose.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Chris Davis observed how withdrawn Heather was. She had bitten her nails until they bled and sat around the house day dreaming about leaving home. Heather had also developed the habit of watching her father warily from a corner, or doorway, of whichever room he was in. Her reproachful stare unnerved Fred West and he demanded to know what was wrong with her and why she was so "miserable".</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The abuse at 25 Cromwell Street was so intense after 1983 that Heather ran away but soon returned. Stephen ran away twice and was rewarded with a beating when he returned. After their attempts to escape, Fred created a device to strap Heather, Mae and Stephen to their beds. He would sneak downstairs and force himself on either Heather or Mae while they lay helpless on their fronts, bound to the bed with a rope.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">On 14 January 1984, Anne Marie married Chris Davis at Gloucester Register Office. She was already pregnant. Michelle was born on Father's Day, 17 June 1984.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">One not long after, Chris was up in the loft laying a floor when Heather confided in him. She climbed up with him and smoked nervously as she spoke. Heather told Chris that she had had enough of life at home and wasn't going to take it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Heather told Chris that she was seriously thinking of running away and going to live in the Forest of Dean. She had recently been on a two-week school camping trip to Clearwell Caves in the Forest. As she spoke it struck Chris that Fred and Rose letting Heather out was a positive turn up. She explained that she had made up her mind that the Forest of Dean was where she wanted to live.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Chris Davis noticed how strained Heather looked and how shaky and tense she was as she spoke. He attempted to lighten up the mood by venturing if she would make a good castaway and if she could trap animals and skin them. If she knew what berries to eat and how to get fresh water from a running stream. Davis told her that the most delicious thing you could eat was warm dear brains just after the kill. Heather recoiled. It was a relief to see her reaction because Heather was a "difficult character" and could be unpredictable.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">When Heather was in a good mood she could be fun. But if she was in a bad mood she was intractable and you made yourself scarce. If Heather didn't want to see you she would look straight through you. Chris Davis remembered putting on a clown's outfit one day: "I did everything but jump on her head if you like. Looked straight through me as if I wasn't there. Then again, if you've been molested, you switch off. That ability to distance themselves from reality"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Before Heather left that day, Chris got her to promise that if she did run away to live in the Forest of Dean, she would contact him so he could reassure Anne Marie she was alright. Heather said she would.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Fucking weird bastards" Chris Davis pronounced Fred and Rose West.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">He told Anne Marie that he was going to speak to them."I said I'd had enough and was going to do something" recalls Chris "She said, 'For Christ's sake don't, because they'll kill us both'".</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Heather begged Anne Marie to let her stay with them. But with memories of her own experiences. Anne Marie said it was pointless because Fred and Rose would only come and take her back. This was a decision that would haunt Anne Marie later.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">From the age of thirteen, Fred West had pestered Heather for sex. "It was really bad for me and Heather when we reached puberty, at about twelve or thirteen" remembers Mae West "Dad used to comment on our breast size or how they had grown a bit" Stephen recalls that his father "used to chase Mae and Heather around and touch them, grab their breasts or grab them between the legs". Fred often wrestled Heather to the floor and beat her if she resisted.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE7JHqH5T8J2PjQTrPjzEdDoNFNk7GaYufYM_bqXP1c4tfKU45B_dnJoCocwY-cqz2Ogpb336tNVtgJ629GnjUbvjeux0d9Jc15yOYbCJen7BZrwaa-jdzsjxDGEinIPLJ_ybO4qc_l1w/s1600/heather+bw+1985.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE7JHqH5T8J2PjQTrPjzEdDoNFNk7GaYufYM_bqXP1c4tfKU45B_dnJoCocwY-cqz2Ogpb336tNVtgJ629GnjUbvjeux0d9Jc15yOYbCJen7BZrwaa-jdzsjxDGEinIPLJ_ybO4qc_l1w/s400/heather+bw+1985.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Heather in 1985</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">There was no lock on the bathroom door and Fred West was able to reach around the shower and fondle Heather and her sister Mae. "A groping could last twenty minutes, and in the end Heather and I would stand guard outside the shower and warn each other when he was coming" says Mae. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">They would whistle to each other when he approached. Fred bored holes in their bedroom wall so he could spy on them undressing. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"We had to almost parade in front of him" recalls Mae "He said things like, 'Why don't you come out of the bathroom without a towel on?' If we wrapped one round us he would try and rip it off so he could see us naked",</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">If Fred called Heather or Mae to his room, they took a brother or sister with them. He also pestered Mae for sex and became enraged when she rejected his advances. On one occasion he "broke the door in when I slammed it in his face." says Mae "He was livid and threw the vacuum cleaner at me for refusing him".</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The two sisters became used to Fred bursting in on them early in the morning when they were getting dressed, or pulling the sheets from their beds He made his intentions clear. "He said a father's right is to break his daughter in and it was his privilege to it by the time we were sixteen" says Mae.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Dad used to chase Mae and Heather around and touch them, grab their breasts or grab them between the legs" Stephen recalls "Mae was so against it she used to scream at him to get off. He would be alright at first, just messing around with her, but when she tried to run, he would get aggressive and call her a lesbian and stuff".</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">By the time Heather was fourteen and Mae twelve, Fred had bored holes in the door and punched holes in the wall so he could watch his daughters dress and undress. He was always on at Heather about being a lesbian. "Did you know you sister was a lesbian? I caught her pissing on the bed". </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Fred would call Heather and Mae bitches and frigid and Rose would laugh. Lodgers and visitors to 25 Cromwell noticed how Fred taunted Heather by saying she was ugly and was generally cruel to her."There's my daughter Heather. I think she's a lesbian" Fred would declare. West indecently touched Heather, even wrestling her to the floor and beat her when she refused to succumb to him. He and Rose were always careful not to touch her face so the marks would not show. The more Heather rejected her father's sexual advances, the more irritated he became. Fred West tormented his daughter for refusing to have sex with him.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">If Heather was moody or morose it was because she was a lesbian or a "lemon". If Heather stood at the bottom of the garden while the others celebrated a birthday, it wasn't because she was unhappy it was because she was "on" (having a period). If Heather refused it eat, it was because she needed a man to give her a "good sorting out".</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Heather had been raped by her father all her life and she was also being casually abused by others. As a result she hated men."Heather was very wary of men and boys" her sister Mae.recalls. She was uneasy in male company and couldn't stand to be in a room with men or to have them near her. It showed in her actions and Stephen could read it in her face. One day one of Heather's uncles began teasing her about boyfriends and that she should "watch it like, because they get up to tricky things"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"If any boy put his hand on my knee I'd put a fucking brick over his head" Heather answered.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The only men that Heather had ever known, had taken advantage of her so it is hardly surprising that she recoiled from them. Fred and Rose seem to have genuinely believed that Heather had lesbian inclinations and were furious about it in spite of the fact that Rose was bisexual. This anger almost certainly stemmed from the fact that Heather continued to reject the advances of her father. Rose deduced that Heather was a lesbian because while still at junior school, she was able to describe what type of knickers the female teachers were wearing. Fred and Rose were unable to make the connection between the abusive attentions Heather had endured at the hands of men and the affect this might be having on her psychological and emotional development.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"When she became a teenager Fred began to tease her, and I think that was the beginning of her slide into misery" believes Anne Marie. And as a result Heather became more and more withdrawn.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Heather had always been different to her other siblings.but there was another suggestion for this. Andrew Letts harboured a suspicion that Heather was not the daughter of Fred West but of his brother Graham. Graham Letts was fourteen when his sister Rose left home. Graham suspected that his father Bill Letts was Heather's real father. "She wasn't a West" Fred West's charge hand Ronnie Cooper asserts "She was too select for them, I think. She was a pain in the neck to them, Heather was".</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Speaking on the TV documentary series <i>Inside Story</i> which was broadcast on 6 December 1995, Mae recalled: "The abuse really affected Heather. She just became really quiet and went into herself. She used to be moody. She never had boyfriends and at school she was always separate from everyone else. She used to rock on the chair for hours and not talk to anyone. And she'd bit her nails 'till she had none at all. She just got quieter and quieter and didn't even communicate with us a lot after that"</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Heather </td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Heather was a bright pupil and her attendance record at 97% was outstanding. But one school friend remembered Heather being "quite unhappy, particularly at home" and was planning to "join the army or go and work in a holiday camp". Heather took to writing 'FODIWL' on the front of her exercise books. "She seemed desperately afraid of her parents," a school friend would recall nine years later.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">In 1985, Heather attended the first birthday party of her niece Michele but stood apart from everyone else.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Whatever you did wrong mum would give you a good slapping" says Stephen "She thought nothing of kicking you. There was never a rhyme nor reason to it". Heather was only treated slightly better than Anne Marie. She was receiving more beatings than the other children. Rose laughed at her distress and called her a lesbian when she protested against her father's abuse of her. Heather was beaten by her mother and because of this she refused to comply with the rule to shower after sports at school. Heather was self conscious about her body and always wore "long-sleeved blouses and pulled up her socks up way over her knees so that the bruises wouldn't show". She was frequently sent to the headmasters office and given detention. And still nobody at the school deigned to investigate further.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Denise Harrison was the daughter of Fred West's Jamaican born friend Ronalzo Harrison and Heather's best friend. Only when Heather was forced to shower one day did Denise discover the real reason behind her seeming disobedience. Heather had weal marks and bruises all over her arms and legs where she had been beaten.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Rose would time Heather coming home from school to ensure that neither she nor her younger siblings stopped to speak to anyone on their way home. Of the three eldest children, Heather was the one who most resembled her mother in looks and temperament. She was quiet and had grown up with a fierce longing to live in the country. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">As Heather's sixteenth birthday approached Fred's attempts to rape her became more frequent and insistent and she began to fear for her safety believing like her half-sister Anne Marie had, that"something terrible" was about to happen to her. Now that Anne Marie had gone, Fred turned his attentions to Heather."Heather was affected by this quite badly. But she never talked about it" says Mae. She was finding it increasingly hard to cope with her father's relentless sexual attentions. Heather hated her father's insistence on keeping a record of her periods and his threats that if she refused to allow him to have sex with her he would get "someone to sort her out".</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"She was quite unhappy, particularly at home" remembered a school friend. Heather had suffered physical and sexual abuse at the hands of her parents all her life and it all began to take it's toll on her. "The whole atmosphere was really making Heather miserable" recalls Mae West. She became steadily more withdrawn, rocking back and forth in her chair and biting her nails until they bled.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"She was so miserable, but she never talked about it" Mae said of her sister "She just became a loner and a bit of a recluse. She wanted to be on her own and do things on her own. Her ambition was to live in the Forest of Dean. She was fascinated with that area. She liked the outdoors and the feeling of freedom ... She didn't want to do what normal people wanted to do. She wanted to live like a hermit. She never wore shoes - she liked to walk barefoot everywhere".</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Heather </td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"The last two or three years Heather was more sullen then usual" remembers Mae She was lethargic and sat around the house all day staring into space. "She had bitten her nails down, so she couldn't scratch him. She became quite nervous and used to bounce back and forth on a chair repetitively like a kid".</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Rose West was indifferent to the plight of her daughters. "I put up with it, so you should" she blithely informed them.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"By the spring of 1987 West not only wanted to penetrate his daughter Heather, but he wanted also to destroy her spirit and bend her to his own will. And the more she repelled his advances, the more she dressed, or undressed, under the bedclothes, or got her sister to stand guard while she was in the bathroom having a shower, the more irritated her father became" writes Geoffrey Wansell in <i>An Evil Love</i>.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Heather was strong willed and spirited and openly argued with her parents. "She made it clear to Rose that she did not approve of what was going on" writes Anne Marie. "I believe she disliked me because I had these other men" said Rose. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Heather was sixteen and a half in the spring of 1987. She had grown into a pretty teenager with abundant raven hair, olive skin and large doe brown eyes. Her pixie looks are reminiscent of the American singer and musician Jane Weidlin in some of her photographs. Heather's dark Mediterranean looks and olive complexion might have been the legacy of a Maltese grandmother. They gave her an exotic patina and according to Geoffrey Wansell there "was certainly a sensuous Mediterranean quality to her character, a fiery pride not easily dimmed". Heather was 5" 4" and slim with prominent front teeth. "She was meant to wear a brace but she never had one" says Stephen.."She seemed more sexually aware than other girls our age" remembers one of her school friends and she got into trouble on more than one occasion for bringing pornographic magazines to school.. Heather also developed an intense crush on a male teacher which led to Fred West being called to the headmaster's office. "Mr West was very cooperative" a teacher later recalled.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Many people would have described Heather as a happy-go-lucky type" writes Anne Marie "I think she tried to put on a brave face for the outside world, but at home she was sad, sometimes aggressive and always angry"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Although one teacher at Hucclecote Comprehensive School remembered Heather as "very pleasant and willing to participate" another described her as a "Jekyll and Hyde - one minute nice as pie and the next very aggressive" particularly out of school and in the company of older pupils. Heather was uneasy in the company of men. She absconded from a school camping trip and did not return with the other children. A search was put out to find her. Heather said she didn't like the male teachers. The headmaster suspended Heather but did not expel her. She wasn't given male teachers after that.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Heather became very withdrawn at school and was always getting into trouble" remembers Mae "I used to hang around her in what was called the smokers' corner when she had a few crafty fags"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"It is impossible to study the family photos without being touched in some way by the young and doomed Heather" writes Neil Paton "A sensitive-looking child from an early age, she gradually developed the look of the child who expects to be beaten at any moment. A family portrait from the 1980's shows Heather as the only child who does not smile; her head is bowed slightly and she has a hesitant or fearful look on her face, as if she is expecting something unpleasant to happen"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Sometimes I found it hard to get on with Heather because she was so different" says Mae ""Stephen punched her on the nose just before she left. I think he feels a bit guilty about that now. She didn't cry though - she was hard. She was very similar to mum, she could be hard towards us"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"I hate my dad" Heather told more than one school friend at Hucclecote Comprehensive. Fred West's incestuous intentions were relentless and Heather retaliated by becoming argumentative at school and becoming moody and silent at home. "The last two or three years Heather was more sullen than usual" recalls Mae West "She had bitten all her nails down, so she couldn't scratch him. She became quite nervous and used to bounce back and forth in a chair repetitively like a kid".</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(from left) Heather, Stephen and Mae at Hucclecote </td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Gossip had reached the pupils of Hucclecote Comprehensive School about the peculiar lifestyle of Rose West. They asked Heather if the stories about black babies were true and she unwisely informed them that they were - letting a few other details slip. Fred and Rose found out and Fred began to escort Heather to and from school.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">In the last week of exams, a little less than a month before the official end of school, Heather finally opened up about what was happening at home.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Denise Harrison was walking home through the Eastgate Shopping Centre one day when she saw Heather sitting on a wall and noticed she was upset. When Denise asked Heather what was wrong, Heather started to cry.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">She confided that she had just found out that her mother had been having a long affair with the father of a girl at school. 'Suncoo' (from 'Sunday cooking') was one of Rose's Jamaican regulars and was also the father of two of her sisters. Heather had never known. Fred and Rose had always explained away their mixed-race children by claiming they were "throwbacks" to Fred's "gypsy past". </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Heather was deeply upset and confronted Suncoo's daughter who went straight home and told her mother. The following day the West Indian turned up at Cromwell Street for a face-off. "Fred and Rose were furious that Heather had been discussing their business outside the family, and she suffered a tremendous beating" Anne Marie later recalled.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Heather told Denise that her father came into her room at night."She said he was having sex with her" recalls Denise "I said, 'Haven't you told your mum?' and she said her mum didn't believe her"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Denise encouraged Heather to go back to school and inform the teachers. Heather told Denise that her father was beating her and that Rose thought she was a "little bitch" who deserved her beatings. "Denise never doubted her friend's story" writes Anne Marie "She had regularly noticed the severe bruising on Heather's arms and legs"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"I asked her whether she had told anyone" says Denise "and she said she was too frightened"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Denise told her parents. But Ronalzo and Gloria Harrison were God fearing people and friends of Fred and Rose West. They could not believe it was possible of them.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"We left school about three weeks after this so I never saw her again" says Denise Harrison.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Heather tried to cry for help but there was nobody there to listen" write Anne Marie.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Word quickly got back to Fred and Rose West. As far as they were concerned, talking to an outsider was an unforgivable sin. As Howard Sounes writes in his book <i>Fred & Rose</i>: "Fred and Rose were extremely concerned that she was on the verge of talking about what they had been doing to her". They kept her under guard making sure she spoke to no one.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Heather was in a desperate situation at home. She knew that she to find herself a job to take her away from Cromwell Street but there was a harsh recession on and few jobs for school leavers. "I remember Heather was really miserable just before she disappeared, because mum and dad were nagging her about getting a job" recalls Mae. Heather became even more withdrawn and downhearted. "When she left school she just sat in the chair. She didn't want to know me anymore." Rose West would say of her daughter seven years later.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Denise Harrison suspects that Fred and Rose waited for Heather to finish her last term at school before killing her. "Denise thinks Fred and Rose could not have killed Heather while she was at school because she would have been missed. The timing of her death speaks for itself - the date on the murder charge was eight days after she left Hucclecote Secondary" writes Anne Marie in her book.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Anne Marie's daughter had her third birthday in June 1987 and she invited the family to a birthday party on Wednesday, 17 June at 52 Sapperton Road. "The whole family turned out in force, which was, I suppose, quite unusual".</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> "I remember very clearly the last time I saw Heather" writes Anne Marie "I even recall what she was wearing. She had on a baggy white T-shirt and leggings. Her dark brown hair was very long and worn loose. I made a note of it in my diary which later helped the police to pinpoint exactly when she went missing. The date was 17 June 1987 - my elder daughter Michelle's third birthday".</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">It was evident from the moment she arrived that all was not well with Heather. Fred bulled and pushed her to join in.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Don't fucking stand there like a lemon" he taunted her.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Why don't you leave me a-fucking-lone" Heather retaliated.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"She was a bright girl and good at her school work" writes Anne Marie "She passed eight GCSEs but never lived to see the results". In fact Heather was such a good pupil that her best friend Denise Harrison would copy her homework on the bus to school in the morning.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgked244185gSg3MzJya1Z4ygciqjdH8Ec77FVvFMC6IWX4vg9vG3_lE_SLyyqPAHa7A0bLMRdgEgFIfrGrrVPkeo8KzB8sIbIbJm4pSrU4mcAu1EywPcD1UfWAtFlk2cL8pG-4SGLVV0k/s1600/Heather+x.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgked244185gSg3MzJya1Z4ygciqjdH8Ec77FVvFMC6IWX4vg9vG3_lE_SLyyqPAHa7A0bLMRdgEgFIfrGrrVPkeo8KzB8sIbIbJm4pSrU4mcAu1EywPcD1UfWAtFlk2cL8pG-4SGLVV0k/s640/Heather+x.jpg" width="422" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Heather </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">On the day of Michelle's third birthday party Heather seemed particularly closed off and stayed at the bottom of the garden as she had done two years before. "Heather went out into the garden too but she didn't join in with the younger children, not even her sisters. She spent most of the afternoon at the far end of the lawn by the shed and wouldn't socialise ... She wasn't talking to anyone and mostly kept her back turned to everyone. Each time I tried to approach Heather to talk to her, my stepmother or my father would be there in an instant ... It was as if they didn't want me to be alone with Heather".</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Chris Davis had a friend called Charlie who was filming the party with a video camera. Fred had even approached him and asked him if he'd be interested in filming sex scenes at 25 Cromwell Street. Charlie filmed Michele and her friends in the house and garden but for a lot of the time Heather kept her back to the house. She even refused to pose for the family photograph with her younger siblings.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Rose mentioned to Anne Marie that they'd had trouble with Heather before leaving home. Fred seemed to be keeping a close eye on the teenager all the time they were there. Heather retaliated by giving her mother looks.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Why don't you just fuck off and leave me a -fucking-lone"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">There were complaints from some of the mothers about Heather's language. Anne Marie telephoned Fred later that evening and told him. "She got told off by mum and dad and Heather cut Anna off for telling mum, saying she was never going to speak to her again" recalls Mae.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"I really regret that I never got to talk to her that day" writes Anne Marie "We just said hi and goodbye, and that was it. I never got another opportunity".</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">It was less than two days after the party that."the troubled, spirited teenager vanished as completely as if she had been in an illusionist's act". In the years to come, Anne Marie would be plagued by nightmares and the worst were always about Heather.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"When I last saw Heather, it was my eldest daughter's birthday. She wasn't herself and wanted to move in with me. But she wasn't sixteen. If she had stayed, they would have got her and given her a good hiding. I told her to wait till she was sixteen. About two days later, I got a phone call from dad. He said she'd left home and gone to live with a lesbian. Of course, I know now that she hadn't - she'd been killed. I have to live with that for the rest of my life." Anne Marie said in an interview.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Heather landed a job as a chalet cleaner at a Butlins holiday camp in Devon and according to Graham Letts she became more cheerful at the prospect of leaving home.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
</div>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"The night before she went, she was very upset" says Mae "She had got a job as a chalet cleaner at a holiday camp in Torquay and was really looking forward to it. But that night, for some reason, the job was cancelled .... Heather went to bed sobbing and cried all through the night. I had never seen her like that before. You couldn't have cuddled her, she wasn't that sort of person".</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"To be honest I felt sorry for her" said Rose West, "because it was the first time she'd shown an interest in anything since she left school".</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Heather's dreams had been shattered.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">The Last Day</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">It was raining hard the following morning.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">19 June 1987.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"In the morning she was back to her usual self, looking miserable, biting her nails and sitting on the couch bouncing back and forth as she sat. I don't remember the last words I said to her, just how she looked and what she was wearing. She had black trousers on, which were a bit short, and a very vivid pink and white T-shirt with "spike" across it, which she had worn for the school" remembers Mae West in <i>Inside 25 Cromwell Street. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i><br />
</i></span> <br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The last photo. Heather is on the left. Fred West on the right. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Fred West had been working on an outside building job but couldn't work that day because it was raining. Heather was alone in the house with Fred and Rose. Howard Sounes gives a detailed account of what may have happened to Heather in his book <i>Fred & Rose</i>.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">An argument developed between Heather and her parents. It may have started with Fred attempting to rape his daughter although it is just as likely that Rose West turned on Heather and picked a fight with her. She would later tell a neighbour that there had been a "hell of a row".</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> Therefore it is likely that Rose West initiated Heather's death. It is also likely that Fred and Rose called Heather a lesbian and attempted to force her into having sex with both of them, tying her hands with two lengths of rope, 22 and 15 inches long, which were later found by police.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Orange, brown and green nylon fibres were found trapped in the rope, suggesting that Heather had been held down on the floor as she was being tied up. There was no gag and her remains were found without any clothing suggesting that she had been stripped naked before death, and that some sex act had been forced upon her.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
</div>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The "hell of a row" or assault on Heather soon spiralled madly out of control and Fred West later admitted that he strangled his daughter. He claimed that he choked Heather as she lolled against the washing machine "coming the big lady" and then shoved her remains in the wheelie bin behind the Wendy house until he had buried them. Fred also claimed that Rose had played no part in it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"She was murdered one day when the other children had gone to school. There's no evidence to believe that she was sexually abused. She was simply murdered and her body was got rid of in the classic Fred West way" says biographer Jean Ritchie on the documentary series <i>Born To Kill? </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"If Heather had been able to survive and continue, she may have bought the whole facade down one way or another and that could not be allowed. So to some degree they committed a very risky murder that was done to show they were in control to the rest of their children and unfortunately that probably led to their undoing" says Criminologist and Forensic Profiler, Dr. David A. Holmes on the documentary series <i>Born To Kill?</i>.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Fred West spoke disparagingly about his missing daughter claiming that she wore revealing tops and never knickers. In an early interview Fred West claimed that Heather was standing with her hands in her pockets against the washing machine."And I said to her ... now what's this about you leaving home! ... You know you're too young. You're a lesbian and there's AIDS and all that. I mean, you're vulnerable to anything"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">He told them that he had said, "Well, Heather, I'm not going to let you go," and she had replied "If you don't fucking let me go I'll give all the kids acid and they'll jump off the church roof and be dead on the floor"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"She stood there, and she had a sort of smile and a smirk on her face, like you try and I'll do it. I lunged at her like that and grabbed her throat like that and I held for a minute. How long I held her for I don't know I cant remember ... I can just remember lunging for her throat and the next minute she's gone blue. I looked at her and I mean I was shaking from head to foot I mean, what the heck had gone wrong?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"I'm strong in the hands because of the job I do ... When you're using big spanners an' things like that, you get strong ... in the arms ... I spotted she'd gone blue and so I let go of her quick and, of course, she just started to fall backwards on to the washing machine and slid forwards"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Fred West was a pathological liar who would continue to maintain that Heather's murder had been "accidental".</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"I just wanted to shake her" Fred West would later tell Detective Constable Hazel Savage "or wanted to take that smirk of her face"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt-JsCk1yi6LUsFKkgT1ESt3lxTxzDbX1xVXXzd6vGpeh16FaLVmGx2DKd2Nz4MjO6deOM80iOlpbaSm9X5ZYs2eLpxeN9e_W8S2Onrd4Z8zmEAm7MeJz0L7oH3NOWXoou9DTWurv8m00/s1600/DC+Hazel+Savage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt-JsCk1yi6LUsFKkgT1ESt3lxTxzDbX1xVXXzd6vGpeh16FaLVmGx2DKd2Nz4MjO6deOM80iOlpbaSm9X5ZYs2eLpxeN9e_W8S2Onrd4Z8zmEAm7MeJz0L7oH3NOWXoou9DTWurv8m00/s400/DC+Hazel+Savage.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Detective Constable Hazel Savage </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"But as a result of what you did ... she died" Savage replied.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Yeah," said Fred "and that's the bad part of it"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Fred West's version cannot be entirely true. As Colin Wilson writes in his book</span><i style="font-family: times, 'times new roman', serif;"> The Corpse Garden</i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">: "The whole story of a tongue-tied, depressed sixteen-year-old girl uttering threats sounded absurdly implausible". While Anne Marie asserts:. "I suspect that she intended to get help and maybe even threatened to expose the sleaze of 25 Cromwell Street. And this was why she was killed".</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"The way things look I think it must have happened around 9 a.m., after we had gone to school. Dad said it was early morning. He strangled her in the hallway. He got one of the black bins from the house, cut her legs and arms off, put her in the dustbin, put the lid on and put her in the cupboard under the basement stairs. The he said, we went to bed at 9 p.m., and he buried her in the garden"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Fred had always emphatically insisted that Rose had not been involved. Yet in 2005 one piece of evidence emerged to incriminate her. It appeared in the supplement Britain's Worst Serial Killers in the Mirror and it was an eye witness account of Heather's death.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Barry West was just seven when Heather died and he claimed to witnessed what happened to her. The little boy was standing behind the door when Heather came home in the early hours of the morning.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"It was about 3 a.m. I heard mum slap her and I saw my dad walk round behind her and put his leg out. Then my mum just booted her. She was kicking and kicking her and calling her a slag. Then when my dad tried to get her to do things to him (these would be sexual), she refused. I think that's why she ended up dead. When my dad finished with her, Heather was too weak to get up and my mum kicked her in the head. I could see blood coming out of her head and her mouth. Then my mum stamped on her head five times and Heather didn't move again. Finally mum rubbed her hands together saying matter-of-factly, "Right, let's clear this up. Let's get rid of this fucking whore." I could hear my dad wrapping her in some plastic and I could see my mom scrubbing the floor with a bucket and brush"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The account appears in <i>Rose West: The Making of A Monster</i> by Jane Carter Woodrow and is repeated in other places but is not corroborated by what has been established about Heather's death. According to the account Heather had come home in the early hours of the morning yet it has been accepted that she died on the morning of 19 June 1987 and is corroborated by Mae West who remembered seeing her before she left for school. Both Mae and Stephen remembered coming home around 5 p.m that afternoon and finding Heather gone.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">It is possible that the events became jumbled in the boy's mind. He would have been at school on the morning Heather died. But the violent way in which he claims Heather died rings true.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"My mum continually lies about her involvement in the hope that one day she'll be free," adds Barry West, "But she knew every detail of what took place ..."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Fred West mutilated his daughter's body with the same enthusiasm he had mutilated the body of Shirley Robinson.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Howard Sounes gives a detailed account of what transpired in his book <i>Fred & Rose</i>.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Fred West used a heavy serrated knife from the freezer shop Iceland, chopping her left thigh clean in two. He then held Heather face down and cut through the back of neck while her chin was pushed into her chest, decapitating her. He then removed her kneecaps and parts of her hands and feet. Fingernails - but not corresponding fingers - were found in her grave.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">It was not implied that Heather had been subjected to torture before she died but two pieces of chord found with her remains suggest that her father had attempted to rape her. It was, as Mae believes, Heather's resistance which precipitated her death. Several loose finger nails were also unearthed with Heather's remains. Although the possibility that they were pulled out while she was still alive is not corroborated by the evidence, it cannot be ruled out.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Fred put Heather's remains into black bin bags and stored them over night in a dustbin under the stairs on the ground floor of the house. He told his children that the dustbin was full of old plaster.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">West had stuffed Heather's clothes and belongings into black bin bags, and left them outside a vet's surgery in St. Michael's Square because it was "bin day". Later Stephen would be perplexed that Heather had not taken her most prized possession with her - a book that she had been awarded as a school prize.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnRHbmT_OEjq6NGMj6FoDN_VVWDff_OZeJ9gfZ2aZQqcnThvqQIitw7bbho3jIxjC1LDaY08HRNwUgtXjmw4Jc9nYacnDyHpfygeyzoYUWBYxpqDcaoPX1MBsS2SX6NeQmMOnKWnbUi0Y/s1600/Heather+i.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnRHbmT_OEjq6NGMj6FoDN_VVWDff_OZeJ9gfZ2aZQqcnThvqQIitw7bbho3jIxjC1LDaY08HRNwUgtXjmw4Jc9nYacnDyHpfygeyzoYUWBYxpqDcaoPX1MBsS2SX6NeQmMOnKWnbUi0Y/s400/Heather+i.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rose and Fred West. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Mae recalls what happened on the TV documentary series <i>Inside Story</i> in 1995: "One day in June 1987, me and Stephen went to school. We both came home and Heather had already gone and dad said she'd gone to a job in a holiday camp that she was expected to get. And she had lined this job up so it didn't seem unusual to us that she'd gone. But he was really calm, smiling. He was just really good and mum stood by him."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Where's Heather?" Stephen asked.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"She's left home" replied Fred.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"What do you mean?" Stephen and Mae asked together.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"A girl picked her up in a Mini, and she's gone to work at the holiday camp" explained Fred West. The lady from the holiday camp in Torquay had telephoned and given Heather the job after all.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">He explained that he and Rose had given Heather some money to help her on her way.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"I think we were more shocked than upset" recalls Mae in </span><i style="font-family: times, 'times new roman', serif;">Inside 25 Cromwell Street </i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"we weren't crying. It's just that Heather hadn't said goodbye".</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">He asked Stephen to help dig a hole in the garden because he was thinking of installing a fishpond. "I can't believe dad made me dig my sister Heather's grave" says Stephen "I was asked to dig a pond in the back garden during half term. He told me "I want a hole there, about four feet deep and six across, and I want you to lay blue plastic in the hole and leave it"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">A couple of days later, Stephen noticed that the hole he had dug had been filled in and assumed that his father had changed his mind. "It really upset me, once I realised that I had dug the grave for Heather. It's really sick that he could ask his own kid to do something like that"</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Heather's remains were buried two feet deep near the fir trees.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">In the weeks that followed Fred West extended the patio at the back of the house. He acquired several dozen square slabs, half coloured a ruddy pink and the other half vanilla yellow. The slabs were molded so that the surface had the texture of slate. He called upon Stephen to help him. Barry West remembers helping lay the patio slabs in the garden and covering them over with some twigs.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"We patioed it. Innesworth Patio Slabs.They come out by the airfield there, all the Air Force is ...The ground has been levelled down, or hammered down. Refilled. As the end of the slab sunk, you put more soil under, or gravel, to level him. As the body sinks, then the slab was tipping ... Actually I did it so very long ago ... Heather helped me put the original one down - just a toddler, like, but she was there rakin'" Fred West would later recall.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">They constructed a barbecue opposite the site of her grave and put a pine table on the slab itself. "We used to have birthday meals and things out there, when mom would cook sausages, bacon and burgers. The younger kids used to love them ... We used to be out in the garden with the music on and laughing. It was like dancing on her grave" recalls Mae in <i>Inside 25 Cromwell Street</i>.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">But Heather was not forgotten in the months following her disappearance.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"They came up with various stories about the day she left and for years Fred would claim to have to bumped into Heather somewhere or to have received a chatty telephone call saying she was fine and working in another part of the country", says Anne Marie.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Anne Knight, who looked after two nearby houses and had an office in Cromwell Street was told, "There was a hell of a barney here a couple of nights ago. We found out that she was going with a lesbian from Wales, and she has gone to Wales with her"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Margaret Dix lived across the road at 29 Cromwell Street. She used to walk her grandchildren to school with Rose West, who took Heather. Dix, asked after Heather, and was informed by Rose that the girl had decided to leave home and they had given her money.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"I'm not bothered if she's dead or alive" Rose West informed Dix "She's made her bed and she must lie in it"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Fred West was less truculent with his explanations.: "She's phoned in the early hours of the morning and been abusive to Rose" concluding tightly "I've told her not to phone again"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"I think dad has mocked her death by telling lies about her" says Mae "It's one thing to kill someone, that's bad enough, but to tell the lies that he did makes it seem so much worse"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Not long after this, Ronalzo Harrison, father of Heather's best friend Denise, asked where Heather had gone. Fred West informed him that Heather had been given a good hiding by Rose for assaulting the children "and putting scratches on their faces" while she was babysitting, Heather had left home a few days later.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">When Ronalzo Harrison expressed to Fred West how concerned he was about Heather, West changed tack and told him that Heather was living somewhere in the nearby village of Brockworth and that she had telephoned them.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Subsequently, Fred jettisoned the lesbian story and informed Denise Harrison that Heather had run off with a boyfriend instead.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fred and Rose </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">A few months later Rose West told Linda Tonks, the mother of one Stephen's friends, that Heather had vanished when "she and Fred"had gone shopping one day and taken "all her stuff with her".Fred West confirmed that Heather "was a lesbian" while Rose nodded in agreement.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"It was all a pack of lies" says Anne Marie "They knew where she was and they regularly held family barbecues over the spot where they had hidden her. It upsets me so much to think of that, and to remember that not one of her possessions was ever found, not a single one".</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"He didn't have a good word to say about her even after he had killed her" says Mae "She had to be a lesbian or a drug dealer, and he used to tell his workmates too. He could have said something nice like she's got kids and is really happy. When I start to forgive him I remind myself of what he's done, and then I hate him again".</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Rose West told Erwin Marschall, who had stayed with Anne Marie at 25 Cromwell several years before and heard screams, that Heather was "uncontrollable" and had "run away from home" after "taking all her belongings". Rose added the further lie that she had called the police.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">A friend of Mae and Stephen's said that Heather was often spoken about in the house after her departure, and her brother and sister were keen on trying to find out where she was.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">In his book, </span><i style="font-family: times, 'times new roman', serif;">An Evil Love</i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">, Geoffrey Wansell writes that Fred West did not forget his daughter and "may even have mourned her in his own way". He took to standing on the patio staring into space and "always seemed to be out there sweeping, going round on his own, as though he was really thinking hard.about something".</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Some of the children have recalled how Fred would sometimes stand around the spot where Heather was buried, looking lost or distracted. At other times he would sweep the patio aimlessly, as if his mind were on something else.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Heather's murder was one of the few times Rose West ever showed any remorse. She seemed genuinely upset that Heather had "run away" and cried a great deal.</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Mum cried a lot when Heather left" recalls Mae "We asked dad why she was crying and said it was because of Heather. It was an unusual sight because she was usually quite hard" Such was Rose's desire to escape from what she and Fred had done that they took a rare trip to see her brother Graham and his wife Barbara.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Heather's left us.She's disappeared. She's a lesbian. And that's it closed. I don't want you coming round in future if you mention Heather" Rose West informed the couple.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Now Fred and Rose West were showing signs that they were haunted by their crime.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Heather's siblings were told not to mention her name again and photographs of her were removed from the house. Rose was never heard to mention Heather's name, and she became very quiet when anyone did.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Rose West appeared to mellow after Heather's disappearance. According to Mae: "she never hit me again. You could really see the change for the better, and that's why we kept thinking, "God, if Heather comes back we will tell her that life's good here and that we've been given bikes and things like that".But Barry West recalls otherwise. He remembers Rose tucking him and his siblings in bed at night and cuddling them, then the following morning "we'd wake up to her kicking us in our beds. She'd be shouting "Wake up you little cunts". There'd be no reason for it. We were terrified".</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">One day the telephone rang and Rose answered it. Stephen was sitting nearby and witnessed what happened next. "Mum answered the phone and said 'Hi, Heather. It's your mum'. They were talking, and then mum started to get upset saying, 'You can't say that about me'. mum was swearing, and then she said ''I'll get your father'. She called dad, and said 'She's calling me every name under the bloody sun, you can talk to her.' dad talked to her and, 'I've calmed her down now. She'll speak to you some other time'.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fred and Rose West </td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">A few days later the phone rang again, but this time Fred answered it. He asked if she was alright and then Rose spoke to her. "Afterwards mum said Heather had said she'd pop in or she'd write"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Knowing what I know now" says Stephen "I think they got someone to ring up, so that if we had any suspicions it would calm us down"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Stephen also concludes correctly that Rose must have been aware that Heather was dead because she would never have been fooled by another woman pretending to be her daughter. "Knowing what I know now, I think they got somebody to ring up, so if we had any suspicions, it would calm us down" says Stephen.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Anne Marie was upset by Heather's disappearance. "I never gave up hope of finding her until the police did it for me" she writes in <i>Out of the Shadows</i>. Fred telephoned Anne Marie to tell her Heather had left home with a girlfriend to work at a holiday camp in Torquay. "I questioned my father regularly about Heather but he stuck to his story and elaborated on it as time went on". She searched for Heather but to no avail. "I know Anna must have felt guilty about her row with Heather because she took a train to Butlins to try to find her" says Mae "Of course she wasn't there and they couldn't tell her anything about Heather". Anne Marie had travelled the West Country looking for her half-sister, and had contacted the Salvation Army. "I followed up some of those leads, travelling as far afield as Torquay in Devon after my dad said Heather was working in a holiday camp there" says Anne Marie "But no one had seen or heard of her, and I went home more anxious and disheartened every time."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Speaking on the TV documentary series </span><i style="font-family: times, 'times new roman', serif;">Inside Story</i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> in 1995, Mae says:"We started waiting for the post every week and it was due to be her birthday and we thought she'd come back and Christmas but we heard nothing. And if at all we'd ask mum or dad, dad would come up with a story. He'd say that she didn't bother about us. She'd obviously got her own business. We didn't think it was too strange, we knew that if we'd left we probably wouldn't come back. But we thought Heather would have for us and the children, not to see mum and dad".</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">It would always be Fred West who claimed to have had contact with Heather after she left in the years ahead. He claimed to have met Heather in Birmingham, Denizes, Bristol and Weston-Super-Mare. She had turned into a drug dealer. She had gone blonde.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"The evil love that he demanded of his children, like the love that he shared with his wife, was to prove West's undoing. Heather West bought the police to his door as surely as if she had walked into Gloucester police station and made a statement. Only it was to take almost seven years for her to do so" writes Geoffrey Wamsell in <i>An Evil Love</i>.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">The Truth Will Out </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">In May 1992, Fred West made a fatal error. He had begun to indecently assault one of his daughters in much the same way he had done with Anne Marie, Heather and Mae. The girl's sister tellingly confided in a friend at school that her big sister Heather "had run away because of her father's abuse".</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Fred West raped his daughter three times on one occasion and videoed it while his children banged on the locked door. They had heard her screams: "Stop dad, it hurts" West later attempted to blackmail his daughter by warning her: "You mustn't say anything, you know, because I'll go to prison for five years. We'll all be split up, and you need a mom and dad at your stage of life".</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
</div>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">West proceeded to rape his daughter again a week later and for a third time in a deserted warehouse. The girl told her sisters and her brother Barry what had happened but they did not tell anyone else due to fear or loyalty to their parents.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The daughter of Fred West informed a school friend of what had been happening to her, and shortly after 6 p.m on the evening of Sunday 2 August 1992, the twelve-year-old asked a police officer: "What would you do if your friend was being assaulted?" She proceeded to confide the concern that her friend was being "mucked about with" by her father and that the assault had been videoed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Three days later, the Social Services Department in Gloucester were alerted and a warrant was obtained to search 25 Cromwell Street for evidence of child abuse and pornography.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">On 6 August shortly before 9.a.m.a team of two detectives and four policewomen arrived at Cromwell Street and began to search the premises. Rose immediately flew into a rage and attacked a policewoman; hitting her repeatedly with her her fists and then her feet, Rose was restrained by a male constable who arrested her on a charge of obstruction.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Fuck you, you bastard" said Rose West.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rose West </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">After further searching and questioning, Fred West was formally charged with rape and sodomy. The four younger West children were taken into care at the Jordan's Brook Community Home.</span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
</div>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Fred had been remanded in custody but Rose was able to continue to live at Cromwell Street. Mae and Stephen returned home to live with Rose while she and Fred awaited their trial.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Rose telephoned Anne Marie who was a witness and threatened her. "If you think anything of me or your dad ... you'll keep your mouth shut".</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">On the morning of Friday 7 August, Anne Marie made a long statement to the police. "Anna was effectively kicked out of the family. Mom put the phone down every time she rang up" says. Mae West. "I went through hell making that statement to Hazel" recalls Anne Marie "It bought back horrors I thought I had blocked out forever. It shook me to the core and left me traumatised." Nine days after making the statement Anne Marie retracted it, calling it "a figment of my imagination".</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">But Detective Constable Hazel Savage was not convinced believing that Anne Marie's allegations were true. Forty-nine-year-old Detective Constable Hazel Savage had taken an interest in the West's since the Caroline Raine case in 1971. She had been in and out of 25 Cromwell Street over the years investigating drugs related offence's and offence's involving the lodgers. Rose West despised Savage and refereed to her within the family as a "bitch and an arsehole"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">One of the main lines of enquiry that Detective Constable Hazel Savage pursued in August 1992, was the whereabouts of the missing Heather. Savage was convinced that Anne Marie's allegations of abuse were true and she would spend the next twelve months searching Heather.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"She said: 'One good thing that's going to come out of this is that I'm going to find your sister'. We didn't like Hazel, but we thought that if she'd find Heather, then that was alright with us" says Mae.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <br />
<div>
</div>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Fred West denied all the allegations. Rose West was also interviewed around this time and gave evasive answers to questions about Heather.She told the police that Heather had "hung around the house for about six months and then left". The only explanation that she would offer was: "I went out shopping one day, as per usual on a Friday, and come back home and she'd gone". Rose was "not sure" whether her daughter had ever been reported as a missing person.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"As far as I'm concerned, she hasn't just disappeared, she made a conscious decision to leave" Rose claimed tartly. "Why I didn't pursue Heather to sort of stay home was Heather had told me, and wanted a life of her own .... And that was why she wanted to leave. She said it wasn't good for the rest of the children".</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">A few days later, Rose West claimed that one of Heather's friends had told her that she was "getting on with her life". She had spoken to Heather on the phone and said she was all right. According to Rose, Heather was drunk.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Rose West was formally charged with "causing or encouraging the commission of unlawful sexual intercourse with a girl under the age of sixteen" and with cruelty to a child".</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">She appeared before Gloucester magistrates court the following morning and was granted bail on condition that she did not contact her younger children, Anne Marie or Fred on Wednesday 12 August. That evening Rose West took forty-eight Anadin tablets but survived.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Fred West was on remand in Gloucester prison as a Rule 43 prisoner - a category reserved for sexual offenders. West kept up the pretence of normality and gave the first version of the disappearance of his daughter claiming that someone called 'Shirley' whose surname he "had the vague idea was Robinson" had collected Heather: "She went through the door laughing her head off, and she said 'Tell Mae and Stephen I'll get in touch with them or something'.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"We would go with mum to visit dad in Gloucester prison ... and he started talking really strangely" says Stephen "He was crying and said that he'd stupid things at night, when we were in bed. He said he had done the worst crime that we could imagine" Stephen and Mae began to wonder if "the worst crime they could imagine" was the murder of their sister Heather.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"After a few years, we got really worried about Heather and me and Stephen filled in a Salvation Army form for missing people" says Mae "We wrote to Cilla Black at </span><i style="font-family: times, 'times new roman', serif;">Surprise, Surprise</i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">..That's the TV show where she brings people together who haven't seen each other for years. And we wrote to another TV show </span><i style="font-family: times, 'times new roman', serif;">Missing</i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">, which tries to find missing people" But all to no avail.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">When Fred West discovered that Stephen and Mae were intending to go to the police, he informed them that Heather was in trouble. "He sat us down and told us that Heather was involved in credit card fraud and that if we went to the police, we'd be dropping in her in it" remembers "We sort of believed him, but after a while we stopped believing he had seem her, why would she contact him and not us?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">25 Cromwell Street</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">It was not until five years later in 1993, that Stephen and Mae began to contemplate whether their parents were responsible for Heather's disappearance. "We thought that Dad might be capable of it, but that's different from believing that Heather had really been murdered"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">He was remanded in custody again and sent to a bail hostel, Carpenter House, in Edgebaston, Birmingham. Rose was allowed to visit him and would travel at least fourteen times to see him.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">On 19 November 1992, Fred and Rose West were committed for trial and five days later on 24 November full Court Orders were made in respect of Tara, Louise, Barry, Rosemary and Lucyanna West at Bristol County Court.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">On Monday 7 June 1993, Fred and Rose West appeared in the dock of Gloucester Crown Court before the city's senior judge, Judge Gabriel Hutton. Fred West was charged with three counts of rape and sodomy. But on the day of the trial the two children refused to appear or give evidence against their parents in open court. It had proved too much for them and the case collapsed. "We take the view that we cannot proceed, and accordingly we offer no evidence against the defendants"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Fred West returned to 25 Cromwell Street in June 1993. His five children had remained in care. In August 1993, Gloucester social services contacted the police to stress their concern over the whereabouts of Heather.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Mae West gives an account of events: "Meanwhile, the police search for Heather was carrying on, unknown to us. They couldn't find any record of her going to a doctor, claiming benefit or any National Insurance records. The search was widened and Interpol were contacted to see if she was working or living abroad somewhere. Again nothing was found, no trace of Heather anywhere in the world. Months later, the kids were talking in their care home about Stephen and I had said about Heather possibly being murdered by mom and dad. A social worker overheard them"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The five younger children had shared a macabre family joke which had been in the family since Heather's disappearance.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">According to Anne Marie the joke originated with Fred West who laughed raucously the first time he said it. If they were open with their mouths about what went on at home, they would end up being buried under the patio like their sister Heather. If they carried on about their missing sister, Fred would say "Anybody would think I'd buried her under the patio".</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"The police were called and they took statements from all the kids. On the strength of that, a police warrant to dig up the garden of 25, Cromwell Street was issued" recalls Mae.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">On Thursday 24 February 1:40 p.m 1994, an unmarked police car pulled up outside 25 Cromwell Street.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Mae West answered the door to five plainclothes police officers: four men and a woman. "They said they had a warrant to search the premises for the body of Heather West" says Mae "I was pretty shocked because a body meant that they thought she was dead".</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The police officers pushed past Mae and asked if Rose West were home. She was watching <i>Neighbours</i> on the television in her ground-floor living-room. The senior officer, Detective Chief Inspector Terry Moore, handed Rose West a search warrant, allowing them to search for the body of Heather."At first she just said "This is stupid" but then she got more and more abusive" recalls Mae "They said they were going to dig up the garden and then she got worse and worse"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The police wanted to establish the whereabouts of Heather and were not certain that they were in pursuit of a serial murderer. Some of them were dubious about the undertaking.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Detective Sergeant Terrance Onions interviewed Rose West later that afternoon in the Black Magic bar. He was struck by her apparent lack of concern for her missing daughter. "Rose hated Heather, right from an early age" Fred West confided.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Rose West claimed she could not even remember the season Heather disappeared although "it could have been summer" because Heather was forever "running away on school trips". Asked what problems Heather had at school, Rose replied "Having arguments with the teachers. . . she got suspended and the headmaster said 'we are not going to expel her' and that was that". West stated that she had given Heather £600 to start a new life but was evasive about the bank account from which she withdrew the money. The story tied in with Fred West's version of events and is clearly an invention."If Rose had already gone to get money for Heather to leave home, then the matter must have already been decided, and there would be no need to threaten to administer LSD to the children."writes Colin Wilson in his book<i> The Corpse Garden</i>.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Asked if she had attempted to persuade Heather to stay, Rose replied: "I said 'what are you going to do?' I had a problem with her because I knew what she was ... She was a lesbian, as far as I know"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"She was a very young girl. How did you know that ? You had a picture in your mind of what a lesbian was like and she fitted it?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small; text-align: start;">Detective Superintendent John Bennett </span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"That's right. One particular incident, her uncle was talking to her. He said to her about boyfriends or something and he said, you know, you had better watch it like, because they get up to tricky things. She said 'if any boy put his hand on my knee I'd put a fucking brick over his head'</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Detective Sergeant Terrance Onions asked Rose what made her definitely think her daughter was a lesbian and she replied that when Heather was at infants school, she had known "exactly what kind of knickers the women teachers had on".Onions asked Rose if the night before there were raised voices " and it was about that, was it ? "You are a lesbian "?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"I couldn't talk to her. There was no communication. She said she would talk to her father. That was it. You can lead a horse to water but you can't make it bloody drink. She was a stubborn girl - you ask the rest of the family. She didn't want to do her own washing. From what was going around at school, so I can gather, she had obviously had it planned for some time. I left her to talk to her father and went and did some shopping"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Pressed further about the details of the bank from which Rose withdrew £600, Rose West erupted: "I was upset at the time. I was upset. . .what do you think? I'm a fucking computer? In the last eighteen months, I have had fucking hell. What more do you want?"</span><br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"I'm trying to find out if Heather is still alive"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"If you had any brains at all, you could find her. It can't be that difficult"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Rose went on to describe Heather as a stubborn and negative child.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"All I put it down to is that I don't agree with what she is doing. That's obvious. She has always been an obstinate child. She didn't want to do anything that anybody else was doing. She left school and she just sat in the chair."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Detective Sergeant Terrance Onions asked Rose West if her daughter was still alive.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Well, why not?" She replied "Unless something horrible has happened to her. Come on - hundreds of thousands of kids go missing."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Heather has disappeared for some seven years without a telephone call, without contacting any person whom she had known, without any activity as regards marriage, employment ... "</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"There must be something somewhere. You have just missed it, that's all."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Then there's you painting a picture of her as a negative girl. She was just a couch potato type of girl. Then here she is, she abandons her family, friends, without trace. If you knew where she was, would you tell us ?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"I don't know"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Onions informed Rose West that it was their duty to find her missing daughter:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"We have got to find out where Heather is. It's a mystery"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"It's only a mystery because you want it to be a mystery." replied Rose.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">At 8,45 p.m that Thursday evening Detective Sergeant Terrance Onions drew the interview to a close.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"You know in your own mind what's happened to her"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"No, I don't" answered Rose West.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Meanwhile at 7.50 p.m that evening, Fred West had given his first interview claiming: "I've no idea where she is" and without missing a heartbeat "I think I've seen her quite a few times, actually". He had seen her recently in Birmingham. "She was more of a lady ... Her hair was expensively done." He claimed like that his eldest daughter was all him. "Heather had summat against Rose, for some unknown reason .. Every time Rose spoke to 'er, she bloody insulted her, and walked away. But me and Heather was </span><i style="font-family: times, 'times new roman', serif;">very</i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> close, which all of them will tell you. I mean me 'an Heather built half our home together."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Fred West informed Detective Constable Hazel Savage that he didn't want to snitch on Heather by reporting her missing to the police.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"You don't go inside just because you're a missing person" Savage informed him.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Ah!" Fred replied with a chuckle, "What Heather's up to is a different story ... You name it, Heather's up to it ... I think Heather was supplying the whole of Cromwell Street, somehow .... Lot's of girls who disappear take different names and go into prostitution". West had learnt through speaking to Heather on the phone that she had "umpteen names".</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Where is Heather?" Detective Constable Hazel Savage asked Fred West.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"You find her" he replied "An' then I'll be happy. That's all I can say."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">It was the beginning of a game of cat and mouse that Fred West would play until the moment he died. He would drip feed the truth as he prevaricated and lied.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Fred West was allowed home for the last time. Shortly after 11 a.m on Friday 25 February he confessed to Detective Constable Hazel Savage in an unmarked police car that he had murdered Heather.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">As he left the house, Fred caused an uproar by yelling "I didn't kill her!" But in the unmarked police car, he turned to DC Hazel Savage and said quietly: "I killed her".</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">At 3:15 p.m, Caroline Roberts had just returned home from collecting her daughter Shani-Jade from school when she "heard a news report that stopped me dead in my tracks and sent a shiver down my spine". It concerned a Gloucester couple who had been arrested on suspicion of murdering their sixteen-year-old daughter. Caroline knew immediately that they were talking about Fred and Rose West. She instinctively hugged her daughter close as tears of anger and sorrow streamed down her face. The report confirmed what Caroline already knew: that Heather had disappeared eight years earlier in 1987 while still a teenager and had never been reported as missing.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"The bastards! How could they kill a child, especially their own child?" Caroline cried.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"As I looked down at my dark haired five-year-old daughter, I remembered two-year-old Heather West, the beautiful toddler with a mop of dark hair and big dark eyes, and I cuddled Shani-Jade to me as I had Heather some twenty-two years earlier".</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">When Caroline had sufficiently collected herself she called Gloucester police, "You have to keep searching, you will find Heather there because that's what they told me they were going to do to me". Caroline repeated how the Wests had threatened to bury her "under the paving stones of Gloucester" where there were already hundreds of other girls whom the police had never found and they wouldn't find her.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"When I put the receiver down I sat and sobbed partly for Heather and partly for myself, as the shame and pain of the past came back to haunt me".</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Just after 5 p.m Fred West gave an account of the death of Heather expanding on his earlier story claiming that he sent Rose out shopping and attempted to convince Heather to "get a flat up the road". "She said, "If you don't fucking let me go I'll give all the kids and they'll all jump off the church roof and be dead on the floor"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"She stood there, and she had a smile and a sort of smirk on her face, like you try me and I'll do it. I lunged at her like that and grabbed her round the throat like that and I held for a minute. How long I held her for I don't know. I can't remember ... I can just remember lunging at her throat and the next minute she's gone blue. I looked at her and I mean I was shaking from head to foot. I mean, what the heck had gone wrong?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Fred West reiterated that he had not meant to murder his daughter. "I mean, I just went to grab her, to shake her, and say take that stupid smirk off your face". But he had determined that "there was no way I could get any life into her".</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Hazel Savage was horrified and disgusted by Wests emotionless confession. "After he had killed her and cut her up, he was more concerned about his hedge than anything else. When we took him back to show us where he had buried her - he said we were looking in the wrong place as he wouldn't have dug that close to this hedge as it might have damaged it".</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Mae and Stephen reacted differently to their father's confession. His solicitor Howard Ogden and appropriate adult Janet Leach walked in the pink interview room at Gloucester police station. Ogden said: "I'm sorry to tell you this, but your Dad has admitted to killing Heather".</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"We couldn't believe it. I slipped down the wall and sat on the floor crying. It was such a shock and we were not prepared for it" says Stephen. "I just went quiet" recalls Mae. Speaking on the documentary <i>Inside Story</i> in 1995, Stephen said: "I felt someone had hit me with a hammer".</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxu7SiP8xrkLG7_8tdw6HzVg1SO2kmQFT18S8aUXZay_Oe6xCaYkA46nQPTpuYi1ZPuZutm5P499IEC0zoq7Um1clyM5U2lPflaSO9KUTNclY4o6-4qItX9tAgK9Qc2lwOL7pgknx3_kI/s1600/25+Cromwell+Street+back+garden.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxu7SiP8xrkLG7_8tdw6HzVg1SO2kmQFT18S8aUXZay_Oe6xCaYkA46nQPTpuYi1ZPuZutm5P499IEC0zoq7Um1clyM5U2lPflaSO9KUTNclY4o6-4qItX9tAgK9Qc2lwOL7pgknx3_kI/s400/25+Cromwell+Street+back+garden.jpg" width="378" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">25 Cromwell Street from the back garden</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Mae was the first to rally, declaring that their father must have been making it up. But Howard Ogden shook his head. "He's gone to Cromwell Street with the police to show them where he buried the body".</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Shortly before 7 p.m that evening Fred West showed DC Hazel Savage where he had buried Heather in the back garden of 25, Cromwell Street.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The following day Rose was interviewed for a second time unaware that Fred had already confessed to the murder of Heather.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"What sort of girl was Heather then? Physically, first of all" Detective Sergeant Terrance Onions asked her.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"A bit shorter than me. I'm about 5'4'', I think" Rose West replied "With really dark hair".</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"You said she was darker than you. . . "</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Yes."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"What sort of build was she ? How heavy would she be ?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"About eight stone. "</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Let's talk about the sort of girl she was in terms of personality."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Quiet, liked to be different to everybody else. She tried to do the opposite of everybody else."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
</div>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> "Was she a problem in the house ?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"She didn't go along with what the rest were doing."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Rose could not remember the exact date Heather left home but she thought it could have been: "Summer. About June, I think.?". And she could not remember if she left with anyone.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"This is your own eldest child." Detective Sergeant Onions reminded Rose.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> "Yes."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"So it was quite a traumatic event."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"That's right".</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Have you seen her since that day ? Have you got any inkling where she might be ?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"She was going down to Devon and she was going to get a job with the company, no matter how long it took her."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Asked whether she had done anything to find her missing daughter, Rose West informed DS Onions: "Nothing. As far as I'm concerned, she left home of her own accord".</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">She went on: "Once a child does cut you off, there's not a lot you are going to be able to do to get her back."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Then Detective Sergeant Terrance Onions informed Rose West that her husband had already confessed to the murder of Heather. According to Detective Sergeant John Bennet when Rose West was informed that her husband had confessed to murdering Heather: "She wailed hysterically, though her howling grief didn't convince her interrogators, who thought she was putting it on".</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Why do you think you've been arrested today ? For the most grave of offence's. There has been a major development this morning. Fred has confessed to murdering Heather."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"What?" Gasped Rose West "So you know where she is?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"He has told us where she is" replied Detective Sergeant Onions.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">In a high-pitched almost hysterical voice, Rose asked: "So she's dead? Is that right?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Fred has confessed to murdering Heather"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i><br />
</i><i> "What ?"</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">""He's told us where she is. Where do you think she is?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"She's <i>dead</i>?" (crying)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <br />
<div>
</div>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"And that automatically implicates you".</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Rose stopped crying and stared angrily across the interview table.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Why does it automatically implicate me?" She growled "It's a lie"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Our suspicions are aroused that you are implicated in it"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Rose West had rallied by the time she was interviewed again a couple of hours later.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Do you feel that perhaps you've been a bit naive over this (seven year) period?" Detective Sergeant Terrance Onions asked her.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFlQSV8RHvmaGQQRO-wTKfoRKlcg_tucQiRplYZB6gdwLwz1roDt9i7tT5B8Ck23BBbEqpuQJnS3CBffKiVMfE_ETkf6UyVl2ahJcVaYxIre_rCOYTzjMzq74LXanovRQ05-3kJr85zpM/s1600/Heather+kk.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFlQSV8RHvmaGQQRO-wTKfoRKlcg_tucQiRplYZB6gdwLwz1roDt9i7tT5B8Ck23BBbEqpuQJnS3CBffKiVMfE_ETkf6UyVl2ahJcVaYxIre_rCOYTzjMzq74LXanovRQ05-3kJr85zpM/s400/Heather+kk.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Digging in the back garden of 25 Cromwell Street </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Looks like it" Rose West replied "don't it?" Adding a few minutes later "I feel a bit of a cunt, to blunt about it"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"What's your feeling towards Fred now?" Onions asked her, "now that you know he's slain your eldest daughter?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Put it this way. He's a dead man if I ever get my hands on him"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Rose West was questioned on the following afternoon of Saturday 26 February after human remains had been discovered at 25 Cromwell Street.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">She steadfastly maintained that she knew nothing about her daughter's death.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"A short while ago human remains have been recovered form the area which Mr West has indicated and for obvious reasons we believe those human remains to be those of your daughter Heather. Is there anything you want to say about that?" </span>Detective Sergeant Terrance Onions put it to Rose West</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Rose shook her head but did not reply. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Was (Heather) killed because, as you said, she was different from the rest because she was going to blow the whistle on what happened in your house? Which, from statements I have read from your children, was a bit like a prison for them." </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"I do not know nothing about it" Rose West replied </span>"Why do we have to go through this again?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">When Detective Sergeant Terrance Onions informed her that there might be more human remains in the back garden of 25 Cromwell Street, she sighed "Oh, this is getting too much".</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"She was a stubborn girl, you ask the rest of the family, I mean she didn't want to move off the seat, she didn't want nothing, she was so negative" Rose said of Heather. She "liked to be different to everybody else".</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">It had been raining incessantly for two days and progress was painfully slow for the fifteen officers in the search team. Shortly after 2.p.m on Saturday 26 February, Fred West retracted his earlier statement and declared that Heather was not dead.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Heather is not in the garden. Heather's alive and well. She's possibly at this moment in Bahrain. She works for a drugs cartel. She's got no identification - that's why you can't find her ... They're looked after like queens. I have no idea what her name is, because I will not let her tell me. She contacts me whenever she's in this country. Now whether you believe it or not is entirely up to you. As far as I am concerned I'd like to see them all still over there digging n my garden ... They can dig there for evermore. Nobody or nothings under my patio".</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">At 4.04 p.m on Saturday 26 February, the search team found a thigh a little over two feet beneath the ground outside the ground outside the rear extension bathroom Fred West had assembled over the old garage at the back of Cromwell Street.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Just minutes later, Heather's skeleton was found on the left-hand side of the small garden, opposite the barbecue.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Professor Bernard Knight, a crime writer as well as a professor of forensic pathology, identified Heather's remains. The smell of rotting flesh emanating from the tiny one-foot square hole was potent. A policeman leaned over the tiny one -feet square hole, holding his breath, and picked up an object covered in mud. Knight identified it as a human thigh bone. Further probing in the "quagmire" among the decaying mass revealed more human bones, a skull, some dark brown human hair, teeth and fingernails. The bones were taken to the police station, where Professor Knight washed them and then painstakingly reassembled the skeleton like a jigsaw puzzle. Strangely enough, the kneecaps and some of the fingers and toes were missing. Dental records were used to identify Heather West.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Heather had been decapitated and her body had been dismembered and disarticulated. Two lengths of orange chord - 22 inches and 15 inches long - were found entangled with what remained of her hair. Fred West maintained that the chord "was what I tied the dustbin lid with". Part of a necklace was also recovered. Thirty-eight of Heather's bones were missing from her remains including her right kneecap, fifteen of her wrist and ankle bones from a total of thirty, and twenty-two finger and toe bones from a total of seventy-six. Not only had Heather's legs been disarticulated from her pelvis with the use a sharp knife, leaving tiny cuts on her bones, but her left thigh had also been smashed in two near her pelvis with a sharp-edged object which Professor Bernard Knight believed to have been done with cleaver.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinLRi90RBpbdmw01a4meS2hbW17Grw2cTV76WsGDcz5YkhshBARX_M9TwJxtUaad0aexc-sGNEsh9FULYHkmPbPHCelsOQfYBiRq87jb8AHC3x50SBhjI4_DwjIivAqTjArSTKDS1ieZ8/s1600/Heather+ll.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinLRi90RBpbdmw01a4meS2hbW17Grw2cTV76WsGDcz5YkhshBARX_M9TwJxtUaad0aexc-sGNEsh9FULYHkmPbPHCelsOQfYBiRq87jb8AHC3x50SBhjI4_DwjIivAqTjArSTKDS1ieZ8/s400/Heather+ll.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Human remains are taken away from 25 Cromwell Street </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Mae and Heather had been planning to make their escape from 25 Cromwell Street together. But Heather never made it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"I was just really shocked when they told me about Heather" said Mae in 1995 "A lot of it just didn't sink in. Just too unbelievable. I was shocked because it could so easily have been me. And I started to hate my dad from there" Stephen remarked:"We couldn't accept that he could have done that to her" says Stephen. Mae and Stephen asked if Heather was whole, and an officer replied: "You wouldn't have wanted to see her". </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">That Saturday afternoon a policewoman called Anne Marie in the midst of a birthday party for her youngest daughter Carol. She was informed that Heather's body had been dug up in the back garden of 25 Cromwell Street and that her father was the chief suspect. The timing couldn't have been worse.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"I was shaking. I wanted to cry. I wanted to dissolve into my grief, but I couldn't." Instead she found a bottle of sherry and poured some into a tumbler and called the father of her youngest child to come to the house. "Then I pinned a smile on my face, took a gulp of sherry and organised another party game"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"It bought to an end my dream of a happier life for the bright eyed-toddler I had watched grow into a difficult, despondent teenager" writes Anne Marie.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">She placed flowers at the gate after Heather's body was found at 25 Cromwell Street Street. Her goodbye to Heather read:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"To my sister Heather, I've searched and sought, I've wept and prayed we'd meet again some sunny day. Missing you so very much. Will always love and remember you All my fondest love, Big sis, Anne Marie"</span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Professor Bernard Knight was aware that he had one femur too many. Fred West had been hoping to get away with manslaughter after Heather's remains were discovered. But it was put to him that there were more than one set of remains,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"There is a third femur, a leg bone, Fred" Detective Constable Hazel Savage informed him, "The question is, is there anybody else buried in your garden?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Only Heather" Fred West replied.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"You never said to us that you scattered Heather all over the garden. And Heather didn't have three legs"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <br />
<div>
</div>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Have you any knowledge of where this other bone might have come from at all?" Asked the solicitor's clerk after a long silence.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Yes, Shirley" Fred West replied, almost inaudibly.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Shirley, who?" Detective Constable Hazel Savage asked.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Robinson. The girl who caused the problem".</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Shirley Robinson was described by Fred West as a lesbian. She was a former tenant at 25 Cromwell Street who was expecting his child when she disappeared.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">West also revealed that there were further remains which he could only identify as belonging to "Shirley's mate".</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">On Sunday 27 February 1994, three days after the digging began, Fred West was charged with murdering his daughter Heather. At 4.13 p.m, Constable Darren Law formally charged Frederick Walter Stephen West with the murder of Heather West between 28 May 1987 and 27 February 1994 contrary to common law. West did not reply.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Shortly after lunch on Sunday 27 February, Fred West gave a lurid and graphic account of what had happened to Heather in the presence of his solicitor Howard Ogden and his appropriate adult Janet Leach. Later West proudly declared that: "Janet had turned green". Her reaction was hardly surprising.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fred West </td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">As Geoffrey Wansell writes in his book </span><i style="font-family: times, 'times new roman', serif;">An Evil Love</i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> : "But, equally, his version of events was hardly the entire truth. It, too, was another of his elaborate lies". Fred West stressed that no sexual abuse had taken place and that Rose West had not been involved. Throughout the confession Fred West would claim that Rose "knew nothing about it whatsoever" and that she had been out shopping in Gloucester at the time of Heather's death.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <br />
<div>
</div>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Fred West was anxious to avoid any suggestions that sexual abuse might have played a part in Heather's death. "She's still dressed. I hadn't touched her clothes, because there was no sexual motives at all. I mean, I wouldn't nothing like that". West told how after strangling Heather in the hallway, he dragged her into the living the room and went to elaborate lengths to ascertain whether she was dead . He dragged her body to the bathroom and it was only after he failed to revive his daughter in the bath that he "pulled her culottes off, because I mean it was all wringing wet" and only then had he "put something around her neck ... to make sure that she was dead ... I mean ... if I'd started cutting her leg or her throat or something and she had suddenly come alive ... That's what I was thinking." Fred West had taken a pair of tights and tightened them around Heather's neck. Then explained how he had found a knife from the"Icelandic" store: "That's what I picked up the knife for, to cut whatever she had round her neck ... 'cause I had no intention at the time of cutting Heather at all, I was just going to put Heather in the dustbin. And that was the whole idea". He dismembered Heather and put the parts of her body in the dustbin. He described how he cut and twisted his daughter's head off: "I remember it made a heck of a noise when it was breaking". West had cut and twisted out her legs at the groin. Heather "filled the bin shoulder-ways". He had hidden the bin behind the Wendy house at the bottom of the garden because he was "afraid that Rose would come home at any moment." And then he maintained that he had gone to great lengths to wash everything: ""There was no blood anywhere, no marks". West had then shoved his daughter's belonging in black plastic bags and taken them to St Micheal's Square. behind the house, "for the dustmen".</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">West had given a "notoriously featureless description of the murder of Heather, complete with the loss of bladder control and his hacking off her head" as Brian Masters puts it in <i>She Must Have Known</i>. "With Rosemary West's connivance, she was bound, abused, killed and finally mutilated. She had become as much a vehicle for her father's appetites as all the other young women whose lives he had snuffed out in the previous twenty years" writes Geoffrey Wansell of Heather's death in <i>An Evil Love</i>.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Fred West was then at pains to present himself as a man so overcome with grief at the death of his daughter that he was unable to think: "I mean, with Shirley and that it didn't matter. I wasn't bothered whether they were dead or alive, you know. I mean, it was just to get to get rid of them".</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">The End </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">On Sunday 27 February, Rose West was arrested on "suspicion of the murder of Shirley Robinson and another as yet unknown female"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Rose West never changed her story and remained steadfast in her version of events which exonerated her from any involvement in her daughter's disappearance. "I told you what I know, and that's it".</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">John Bennett believed that Fred and Rose had agreed on a story, probably at Cromwell Street on 24 February, the last night they spent together. Part of the plan was that "Rose knew nothing".</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Within the investigation itself, it was realised that a lot of the things that Rosemary West had said about how Heather had disappeared were exaggerated, and now we had actually located Heather made it quite apparent that Rosemary was lying" writes Bennett. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The following morning and two days after the discovery of Heather's remains, the diggers found another body in the garden, near the bathroom wall. The dismembered body was later identified as sixteen-year-old Alison Chambers. The teenager had been a regular visitor to Cromwell Street and had run away from home in August 1979. Several hours later, the police found more human remains buried several yards from the other body. They proved to be those of Shirley Robinson. Near her dismembered body was the skeleton of a foetus. Having uncovered three bodies in the garden, Detective Chief Superintendent John Bennett, the officer in charge of the investigation, decided to start digging inside the house. The police would later bring in a ground-penetrating radar to locate bodies which cost £2,000 a day to rent.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">It was at this stage that Fred West decided to make a full handwritten confession, declaring that there were five more bodies buried under the basement floor, and one under the ground floor bathroom. More concerned about his home being damaged, Fred West decided to cooperate with the police and show them where the bodies were buried. He pointed out further sites at 25 Cromwell Street, as well as Letterbox Field, to the police. West was smuggled back into the house disguised as a member of the police search team to avoid media storm.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The first remains to be found in the basement were those twenty-one-year-old Swiss student Thérèsa Siegenthaler who had vanished on 15th April 1974, while hitchhiking to Ireland via North Wales. The remains of fifteen-year-old Shirley Hubbard were discovered next. She was a shop assistant from Worcester and had vanished after leaving work in November 1974. The remains of Lucy Partington, Juanita Mott and Carole Ann Cooper closely followed. The remains of Lynda Gough was found under the bathroom floor.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fred West's confession</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">On the 10 April the police applied for a search warrant to excavate Fingerpost and Letterbox field in Kempley, 25km (15 miles) west of Gloucester. The remains of Rena West were unearthed at Letterbox Road that day and twenty-four days later the remains of Charmaine West were discovered on <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">4 May 1994 beneath the kitchen of the ground floor flat at 25 Midland Road. The remains of Ann McFall were found on 7 June 1994 at Fingerpost Field. McFall was the first recorded victim of Fred West and the last to be found</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Towards the end of his life. Fred West attempted to portray himself as the innocent. He claimed that Rose West was guilty of the killings not he telling Howard Ogden: "Rose ruled me. Everybody knows that". he denied the attacks on Anne Marie and Mae. </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">He denied attacking Caroline Roberts. </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">He also denied that Heather was his daughter. </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">He informed Ogden that Rose West had explained the killings as "sex acts that went wrong, bondage that went wrong". </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Fred West had become increasingly depressed. </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">He had been charged with twelve murders but had no intention of doing time for them. Now he was facing the prospect of spending the rest of his life behind bars and his health was beginning to deteriorate. Rose West had been in prison since the 21 April 1994 and had persistently declared that she was innocent.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">There may be a kernel of truth to the pack of lies Fred West told about Heather's death. Significantly, he began to blame his wife for her murder:</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> "Rose hated Heather, right from an early age". He told his solicitor Howard Ogden that his daughter was a lesbian: "Heather hated men. There's no doubt about that. She made it quite clear to me, she hated men near her. I had nothing against Heather being a lesbian, if that's what she chose to be," he sad, "She was floating between one and the other all the time, and I always said that if you get a good man it'll settle you down ... 'cause all Heather said when I picked her up from school was what knickers the teachers had on". </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">West also informed Howard Ogden that he had "always suspected" that Heather was not his daughter, "and that Rose was already pregnant when she came to me at Lake House. That's why she was in such a hurry and that". </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Geoffrey Wansell writes:"Taken together with his claim that his wife had been responsible for Heather West's killing, they lead to the inescapable conclusion that he and his wife together attacked and murdered their first-born child on that June morning seven years before".</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Fred West was paranoid that Rose would discover his treachery and dispensed with the services of Howard Ogden in August 1994 although he would significantly confide in his appropriate adult Janet Leach. He informed her that all the dead girls at 25 Cromwell Street were "some of Rose's mistakes. It was all sexual. It wasn't meant to happen". He also claimed that his younger brother John had been involved "a lot"in the abductions and murders. West informed Leach that there were "another twenty" victims, including the missing Mary </span>Bastholm<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">, whose remains were \"on the farm". </span>Bastholm<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> had been missing since January 5, 1968 when she vanished without trace from a bus stop in Gloucester. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Janet Leach continued to visit and speak regularly with Fred West even after she had ceased to be his appropriate adult. She believed that West would divulge further details of victims but he never did. Speaking in 2011, Anne Marie said: </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"One newspaper report claimed Janet Leach "won my father's confidence", but this was never the case. She was merely a toy, an audience to his sickness, someone new to manipulate. She was completely out of her depth dealing with a master of deceit". Rose West would get through six appropriate adults: they couldn't handle hearing all the details.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">On Thursday 30 June Rose and Fred West were bought together before the dock at Gloucester magistrates to be charged jointly with nine murders. Fred attempted to make contact with his wife and at one point he leaned over to stroke the nape of her neck and whispered in her ear. But Rose West refused to even look at her husband and stared straight ahead as she recoiled from his touch. Fred West was crushed. "This clearly quite perturbed him" said </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Detective Superintendent J</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">ohn Bennett. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Fred West's health had significantly deteriorated. In the last months of his life he began to pen a memoir with a chapter titled <i>I Was Loved By An Angel</i> which detailed his relationship with Ann McFall. He wrote: "Our love, it was so true and faithful and last forever ... The girls were my treasure and now I had Anna. What a goldmine" Fred West was also being tormented by other prisoners who were harassing him. He narrowly missed being seriously injured when an inmate making tea threw boiling water at him. "Build us a patio, Fred," and "Kids getting under your feet?" prisoners shouted at him in the exercise yard. He told someone, "I can't take it anymore." Fred cried. </span></span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">In August 1994, at Winson Green Prison in Birmingham, West informed Dr James MacMaster that his wife had been running a brothel and had tried to murder him, that Heather had dug her own grave and that Rose had been burying people without his knowledge and preparing the children for prostitution. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Anne Marie recalls her father saying:"Your dad's had enough, love. I'm going to finish it myself. I've had enough" By November his health was failing and he wrote a journal which addressed Janet Leach of his impending suicide: "I have gone to Anna, Heather, Charmaine, Rena, Shirley and my two unborn children who never had a chance had a chance to see life or I to see or hold them ... I know how the families feel, I lost 5 in this tragedy" Fred </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">West penned a letter to his wife declaring: The most wonderful thing in my life is that I met you. How our love was special to us" And told her that he wanted to be buried beside her and asked: "Lay Heather by us, we loved Heather"</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></span>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mae and Stephen in 1995</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">On Tuesday 13 December Fred West stood beside his wife for the last time in the dock at Gloucester magistrates' court. They were separated by two female police officers and Rose West ignored her husband and would not make eye contact with him. She went so far as to inform the officers to tell her husband that she did not wish to speak to him. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The end came on New Year's day 1995. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">At 11 a.m Fred West was left alone in Cell 8 on D3 landing at Winson Green Prison, Birmingham, to eat his lunch of soup and pork. He stitched into a rope strips of the green blanket from his bed using the needle and thread he had been given for his job of sewing buttons on prison shirts. Fred West hanged himself from a bar</span> on the ventilation shaft above the door. He did not not die at once, but strangled himself "for a minute or two", hanging a few feet above the floor. All attempts to revive him failed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Frederick Walter Stephen West was pronounced dead by the prison doctor at 1.40 p.m New Year's Day 1995.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"I'm so relieved" Rose West was reported to have said "He was evil. He should have died long ago," and added that she had prayed for his death.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Mae West heard the news of her father's suicide on the car radio, and she pulled in at a lay by and sobbed for half an hour. "I tried to hate him, but I don't think I can" says Mae "It's as if we can't escape the past. Our destiny is always to be haunted by tragedy and death. It seems like a curse has been put on the family which will never be lifted"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Anne Marie made a suicide attempt after hearing the news. She identified her father's body at Birmingham Mortuary. "That moment in that cold, bleak place will stay with me forever" says Anne Marie "He didn't look at rest or at peace - and I don't suppose he ever will be".</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"He didn't die a happy man, that is for certain" says Stephen "I just wish he had admitted to it and apologised to all the families. I would have found it better and easier to cope with if he had done that before he had gone"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">On Wednesday 29 March 1995 at 10 a.m, Frederick Walter Stephen West was cremated at Cranley Crematorium near Coventry.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Several crematoria had refused to accept West's body. The service eventually took place at short notice without anyone else being told. A fist fight broke out among rival newspapers as the coffin disappeared beneath the curtain forever. Only Stephen, Mae and Tara West were present to represent the family. Although Anne Marie arrived after lunchtime. Bereaved families who attended funerals on the same day at Cranley Crematorium were outraged when they discovered that services for their loved ones had taken place within hours of Fred West's cremation.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">In the New Year's honours list, Hazel Savage was made a Member of the Order of the British Empire. But not long after Fred West's suicide, she was taken off the case when it transpired that she had been negotiating a book deal.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Five weeks later and nine months after her husband's suicide, on 6 February 1995, Rose West's committal proceedings took place. She was charged with ten murders but continued to maintain her innocence.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The trial of Rosemary Pauline West opened at Winchester Crown Court before Justice Mantell on 3 October 1995. The prosecution was led by Brian Leveson QC, and the defence by Richard Ferguson QC.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The eight men and four women of the jury were told by the judge that they must expel "all preconceptions, prejudice and sentiment" from their minds.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The case for the defence began on Monday 30 October, Richard Ferguson QC, defending Rose West, pointed out that it had already been established that Fred West had murdered and disposed of the bodies without assistance. He added that: "She (Rose) neither knew of nor participated in any of the murders, nor did anything to hide or conceal those murders." Fred West </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> "</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">was a man devoid of compassion, consumed with sexual lust, a sadistic killer and someone who had opted out of the human race… the very epitome of evil."</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">One by one the faces of the past reappeared to give evidence. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Caroline Roberts gave an account of her ordeal at the hands of Fred and Rose West. At one point she broke down in tears and sobbed that she only "wanted to get justice for the girls who didn't make it. I feel like it was my fault". </span></span><br />
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</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">June Gough gave poignant evidence about her daughter Lynda, describing her as "cheerful, happy and friendly. She accepted some advice, but as she got older ... she started to rebel against our advice ... like a lot of teenagers in those days and today. They think they know better but really they are only just beginning their lives" </span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Caroline Roberts testifies in court at Rose West's trial. </td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The court also heard evidence from former lodgers at 25 Cromwell Street. Anne Marie gave an account of the abuse she suffered at the hands of Fred and Rose. It was the most dramatic evidence so far and Anne Marie broke down many times during her evidence. After a suicide attempt she was back in the witness box a couple of days later and spoke of being made pregnant by her father at fifteen, and remembered being stabbed and beaten by Rose. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The court listened to a taped interview in which a shrewish and foul mouthed Rose West cursed and mocked. They heard Rose accuse her daughter Heather of hurting the other children, trapping their fingers in doors, giving them black eyes and administering mixtures of "vinegar and salt and stuff" to them. Allegations that had actually been made by the children about Rose West herself. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Glynis Tyler. Rose's sister, testified that she had been childish for her age and "absolutely devoted" to her two younger brothers. As to Heather's disappearance, Glynis said: "Heather told my daughter that as soon as she was sixteen she would leave home".</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"So it came as no surprise to you when she did" said QC Richard Ferguson. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Absolutely not", replied Glynis Tyler. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Although she did not confess, the circumstantial evidence against Rose West was overwhelming. </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">She ignored the advice not to testify by her defence and her attempts to portray herself as an innocent bystander backfired on her. Rose West destroyed her credibility with her truculence and bellicosity. She lied in court and made jokes in very poor taste about the deceased.</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> She made fun of Shirley Robinson, describing her as <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">a "silly ... flittering'<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"</span>girl.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Q.C Brian Leveseon informed the court: "There is no direct evidence that she (Rose) knew about what had been going on or what an examination of the cellar or the garden would reveal". But </span></span>"It is quite clear that there were growing frictions between the Wests and their oldest daughter. This may have been the normal problems of adolescence, it may have been more serious problems". Perhaps it was significant that Heather did not have a boyfriend.</span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Counsel considered the various conflicting accounts that Rose West had given about the departure of her daughter. They were "all lies".</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"The fact is that some months short of her seventeenth-birthday she was murdered, chopped up and dumped in the back garden of 25 Cromwell Street. She had been living at home. All suggestions of contact by telephone from Rosemary West were lies. There was no contact by Rosemary West with any authority to enquire after the missing child who makes no attempt to call home. The precise motive for the death of Heather West is to a degree speculative. It could be because she knew too much about what had gone on and could not be allowed to leave home. It could be because there was a blazing row as Rosemary West said and that Rosemary West did give her a hiding and rather more than a hiding. It could be that Heather was resisting attempts to involve her sexually in the household. She participated in the killing of her own daughter. Why else the lies?"</span><br />
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</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Asked about her feelings for Heather, Rose answered emphatically but rather too quickly: "I loved her very, very, very much". According to the author Brian Masters who sat in on the trial: "For whatever reason, and her guilt or innocence must have a bearing on that reason, whenever Heather was mentioned she was visibly distraught". She struggled whenever the subject was introduced and sobbed as she recounted how Fred West had let Heather leave home without saying goodbye to her. "There was no mistaking their genuineness" Brian Masters concluded of her emotion.</span></span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Yet Rose West had betrayed her enmity towards Heather. She informed the court that Heather had "been an awkward baby ... I was inexperienced as a mother and she would sleep all day and be awake all night". </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Mr Leveson informed the jury: "Heather did not leave home. She was murdered and buried naked in the garden. None of her possessions were recovered, none of her clothes, none of her belongings - not a trace"</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">According</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> to Colin Wilson in his book <i>The Corpse Garden</i>: "During the evidence Rose West sat looking quiet and demure, and occasionally raising a handkerchief to her eyes. But when the recording of her police interviews was played, with it's foul language and general air of defiance, it became clear that she was now play-acting"</span><br />
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</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> "For the most part Rose West remained impassive, though when Heather's murder came up she dabbed her eyes" writes John Bennett of Rose at her trial. He was not too far away to access whether her tears were real "but he doubted they were after hearing her dismiss the girl so harshly in interviews". </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Further more, "From his vantage point Bennett could see there were no tears beneath those trademark spectacles and wondered if she was capable of them anyway". </span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rose West in court </td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Of Fred West, Rose informed the court: "He promised me the world, he promised me everything. But I was so young, I fell for his lies ... He promised to love me and care for me and I fell for it". </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">At one point </span>Rose stunned <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">t<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">he court with her outburst. She declared that she saw her husband as the devil </span></span></span>after he confessed to murdering Heather: "I hated him. I didn't see the man I had known all those years. I saw a walking figure of evil I saw him - it might sound daft - but I saw him with horns and complete with a satanic grin. He never looked sorry for what he did or anything. He just used to grin, like it some joke". But her attempts to win the jury's affections failed. </span></span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Jurors rejected claims by Fred West in taped police interviews that Rose was innocent of any involvement in the murders.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"When she finally left the witness box, after three days, her credit was damaged beyond repair. She had succeeded in making a non-stop impression of dishonesty; even undermining matters that had been established beyond all doubt, such as her ill-treatment of the children. She used the same technique of blanket denial". writes Colin Wilson</span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The judge's summing up began on Thursday 16 November 1995. He warned the jury that they needed to keep cool heads and set aside all prejudice. But he pointed out that, if two people take part in murder, then both are equally guilty, no matter which of them actually killed the victim. He also reaffirmed that the lack of direct evidence was not an obstacle to a guilty verdict.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Members of the jury deliberated overnight on Monday 20 November and the following day the foreman announced that they had found Rose West guilty of three murders - those of Charmaine and Heather West and of Shirley Robinson.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">On November 21 1995, the jury returned just before 3 p.m to announce their verdicts. Rose West was found guilty of the murders of Charmaine Carol Mary West and Heather Ann West. The verdicts were unanimous. The jury returned a little over an hour later with their third unanimous verdict: Rose West was guilty of the murder of Shirley Ann Robinson. They were as yet undecided upon the verdicts of the other seven.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Shortly before 1 p.m on November 22 1995, after thirteen hours of deliberation, the jury returned to announce guilty verdicts on all seven remaining charges: Lucy Katherine Partington, Lynda Carole Gough, Carol Ann Cooper, Shirley Hubbard, Therese Siegenthaler, Juanita Marion Mott, Alison Jane Chambers.</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Mr Justice Mantell praised the jurors for their conduct during the 31-day trial. "You will never have had a more important job to do in your life - I am aware of the great stress it must have placed you under. You deserve my thanks and the country's for the part you have played," he said.</span><br />
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</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Rose<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span>West expressed no emotion as she was sentenced to life imprisonment with the simple and damning words: </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Stand up</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">. Rosemary Pauline West<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">, on each<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> of the ten counts of murder of which you <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">have been unanimously convicted by the ju<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">ry<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">,</span> the senten<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">ce is one of life imprisonment. If attention i<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">s paid to what I think, you will never be released. Take her down".</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The Lord Chief Justice later decided that <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Rose West</span> should spend at least twenty-five years in prison. </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">In July 1997, Home Secretary Jack Straw subjected Rose West to a whole life tariff. Myra Hindley was the only other British woman condemned to die in prison. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Speaking shortly after the sentencing, Mae said: "I feel we've suffered so much. We've lost our father, now our mother, our sister, our family home and our past". She also reflected: "Dad was into everything and it was amazing the social services also didn't notice what was going on with us kids. They didn't do anything. One of my mum's clients said the kids were being abused, but they did nothing". </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"She is an evil, wicked woman. And she's going inside and she should never, ever come out" Kathryn Halliday told the press outside court. While John Bennet has since said: "Rosemary West has never, ever admitted any culpability to any crimes she was charged with. Certainly not at the time of her conviction or appeal so she is in total denial. That is my view". </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Stephen West is succinct about his parents. "I think there was something wrong with mum from when she was young. dad wasn't quite right either, so there were two people who weren't right when they got together, and it was a lethal cocktail. They encouraged each other in what they did. If they had both married someone else I don't think it would have happened to the extent it did - two wrong people bought together". </span></span><br />
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</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">In 1994, retired fifty-five-year-old John West was arrested for alleged rape. Police searched his house and found more than a hundred pornographic videos. Fred West claimed that his younger brother was "heavy" into pornography and liked to tie women up and beat them. John West treated women "like a dog" and became violent when they rejected his advances. There is reason to believe that he had repeatedly raped Anne Marie over a period of years and that he casually raped Heather. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">John West hanged himself in the garage of his Gloucester home on November 28 1996, the night before a jury at Bristol Crown Court was due to return verdicts on rape charges. </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">''He had been completely in his brother's power and Frederick West knew that he could depend on him utterly - not only because he was implicated in the murders of Ann McFall, Rena West and Charmaine but also because Rosemary West held him in her sexual thrall.'' Geoffrey writes of John West in </span><i style="font-family: times, 'times new roman', serif;">An Evil Love.</i></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Anne Marie in 2011</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Gloucester County Council purchased 25 Cromwell Street for £40,000 and the adjoining house for an undisclosed sum. The demolition began on 7 October 1996. The remains of 25 Cromwell Street were crushed, mixed with aggregate and used at undisclosed sites across Gloucestershire. The foundations were filled in and capped with 2 inches of concrete, over which soil and grass were laid. A walkway is now where 25 Cromwell Street and the adjoining property used to be.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Speaking in 2011, Mae revealed that she had never managed to lose the fear that one day someone would discover who she really was. She had not spoken publicly for seventeen years and had changed her identity - she had plastic surgery to remove a birthmark from her face. She had a child from an earlier relationship and had taken the child's father's name. Mae felt that she had not dealt with the horror, yet couldn't be open about it either, because she had to protect her privacy and her own children.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">“Not talking doesn't make it go away,” she said. “I don’t think people realise how a mum and dad are really important in your life. You can’t just say, 'They’re not there any more. They never existed. I've just appeared on this Earth with no parents.' No one knew what it was like for us, living with those sorts of parents. I’m not sure, do people care or not?" Mae carried misplaced guilt as many survivors of serious abuse do. “You worry all the time. You’re never really at peace. You’ll do something nice and then beat yourself up afterwards for hours, because that’s what we do. We’re people that try and plod along. As long as I think I’m plodding, I’m happy."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Mae remained loyal to her mother. But Rose eventually cut her out of life after she wrote her a letter outlining how she felt. “We have to accept that good and bad happens. There are many people who don’t want to know that there are evil people in the world, that bad things happen."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">In 1999, Anne Marie attempted suicide by throwing herself into the water from a bridge in Gloucester but was rescued. "Life has been a nightmare for Anne-Marie, because she keeps reliving the trauma" says her partner Phil Davis "What she's been through is unimaginably hard for anyone to cope with, but I'm so proud of her. It's a heavy burden, but she's just trying to lead an ordinary life now. With me and the kids supporting her, I think she can see a light at the end of the tunnel.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Speaking in 2011, Anne Marie said: "My mother Rena and my sisters Charmaine and Heather, are my heroes. I was an eight-year-old coward and I was still a coward when I ran away. But my mother and siblings stood up to them and paid the ultimate price." She described the lasting effect that the horrifying experiences had on her life: "There was no doubting the overwhelming sense of emptiness and loss. Justice had been served and now it was time to try and pack away the memories of past and present, except it was not that easy." says Anne Marie "There was little support available locally and the NHS just didn't know what to do with me and I am ashamed to admit that I attempted to take my own life on a number of occasions and I am lucky to be alive. It would take years before I got the kind of counselling and professional support that I desperately needed"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"I was like a little mother to Heather, changing her nappies when she was a baby" says Anne Marie "I'm still devastated by the loss of Heather because I didn't realise how much danger she was in. That is always in my mind"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"I think about the other victims' families a lot" Stephen said in 1995 "We know what it's like to lose somebody through this. Obviously we've got the added burden of it being our dad who did it" In January 2002, Stephen tried to take his own life by hanging himself, but survived when the rope snapped. Stephen was jailed for nine months in December 2004 for having sex with a girl of fourteen. Judge Michael Mott told him: "You went through an experience when you were younger that no one would wish on anybody. If it's not unique it's in the highest degree unusual. You had a terrible childhood and the tragedy is that you have done a great deal to live that down" Stephen's barrister Stephen Mooney tried to explain his client's behaviour, saying: "He had one of the most traumatic and distressing childhoods one can imagine and what happened affected his emotional development. Anyone who has suffered like him has a tendency to remain emotionally less well-developed for his age." By 2011, Stephen had been married twice and had five children.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Tara, Louise and Barry went back to live in Gloucester. Rosemary junior and Lucyanna moved to the south of England to build new lives.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8hjFGJ6t_4XFkqZhpiLyhRZf130Tfe_fAaBK4_cWKrtwvVR_z6Sxa53ppa5YlfLJXy7ljDHlq8Dsi28ErPKRcLlXOOFNEHIZ7Xyv2JdRgwQKrJM2YY1Ikma8b_qKsWdO2CSrg1XMmYYU/s1600/heather+anne+marie+note.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8hjFGJ6t_4XFkqZhpiLyhRZf130Tfe_fAaBK4_cWKrtwvVR_z6Sxa53ppa5YlfLJXy7ljDHlq8Dsi28ErPKRcLlXOOFNEHIZ7Xyv2JdRgwQKrJM2YY1Ikma8b_qKsWdO2CSrg1XMmYYU/s400/heather+anne+marie+note.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Anne Marie's tribute to Heather </td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Howard Ogden represented Fred West for five months but was fired by him in August 1994. He was accused, and later cleared, of trying to make money from the Wests life story but was still suspended for a year for bringing the profession into disrepute.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"That case changed my life," Ogden says. "I contracted a rare form of leukemia during it, as a result of the stress. I've since had special chemotherapy treatment and been given the all-clear. Seeing that horrible evidence has a big effect. I still get terrible nightmares and awful flashbacks. If I read a newspaper headline which contains the word West, I still shudder."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Leo Goatley, represented Rose West at her trial. "I'm sure I'm not the only one who has been haunted by the photos of victims" he says "It was like something from a horror film, looking at pictures of skulls with plastic tubes coming from the mouth. The tubes apparently allowed the victims survive in some minimal way."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">“I have made a promise to Rena West, Ann McFall, Charmaine West, Lynda Gough, Carol Ann Cooper, Lucy Partington, </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">Thérèsa </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Siegenthaler, Shirley Hubbard, Juanita Mott, Shirley Robinson, Alison Chambers and Heather West, that I will do something positive with my life." said survivor Caroline Roberts in 2012 “I could not prevent their deaths but I will help to prevent the deaths of others.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Marion Partington's sister Lucy died at the hands of Fred and Rose at 25 Cromwell Street. Four months after she disappeared, Lucy appeared to Marian in a dream. Marian asked where she had been."I've been sitting in a water meadow near Grantham," Lucy replied and added: "If you sit very still, you can hear the sun move." These words gave Marian the tittle for her book:</span><i style="font-family: times, 'times new roman', serif;"> If You Sit Very Still. </i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">which details her personal journey to forgive Fred and Rose West</span><i style="font-family: times, 'times new roman', serif;"> "</i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I have needed to know how I could use my life to stop this cycle of violence, abuse and revenge, without denying the devastating effect that it has had upon us all" says Marian. She wrote to Rose West in prison, telling her she had forgiven her.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"I do not feel any hostility towards you, just a sadness, a deep sadness. that all this has happened, and that your heart could not feel a truth that I wish you could know."</span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Rose West rejected her forgiveness and requested that Marion “cease all correspondence”.</span><br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">The Barefoot Child</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"We want to give Heather a decent funeral. That's something we feel very strongly about. It's time for her to be laid to rest properly" Mae said.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The funeral of Heather Ann West took place on Tuesday, 19 December 1995 at St Michael's parish church at Tintern, on the Gwent border with Gloucestershire in the Forest of Dean, an area she had loved as a child. The funeral marked the end of a "terrible nightmare" said Stephen.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Heather's funeral was postponed until the end of her mother's trial. Rose West had allegedly wished to attend the service but was not granted permission to leave Durham prison. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Stephen led the small group of mourners, together with his sisters Mae and Tara, and Peter Grose and his daughter, Tamara. Mr Grose was the publisher of Stephen and Mae just published book, <i>Inside 25 Cromwell Street</i>. Also present at the service were Rose West's solicitor, Leo Goatley, and his wife. Anne Marie was not present. The service was conducted by the Reverend Julian White.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">St Michael's parish church, Tintern </td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"After laying her to rest we can all resume our lives" Stephen said.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Shortly before dawn on 7 October 1996, Anne Marie paid one last visit to 25 Cromwell Street before the demolition began. Not long after, Stephen and Mae lay flowers with a hand written card attached containing a poem for Heather:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <br />
<div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
</div>
<i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"It seems we lived a seven year con since we came home to find you gone.</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">For all those years we tried in vain</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">In hope we could ease the pain</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">But how were we to have ever known</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">That someone close and in our home</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Took you from us that sad day</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">In such a sad and awful way</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">No-one could love you the way we do</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">And know how much we miss you</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I hope one day we meet again</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">And then at last there would be no pain -</span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The sad memories of this house will go with it. But the memory of you will always stay -</span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Love Stephen, Mae and Tara"</span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Heather had taken to writing a secret code on the front of her exercise books. When the code was finally cracked it was revealed to be her dream and escape plan - 'Forest of Dean I Will Live'.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; font-size: 11.592px; line-height: 17.388px;">Forest of dean blue bells (by photomark1977 deviantart.com)</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">IN MEMORY OF HEATHER ANN WEST </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">(1970 ~1987)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">LOVED ALWAYS.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">NEVER FORGOTTEN.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><b><br />
</b></span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="360" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/Xz-Hu7jqBDY" width="480"></iframe></span></div>
Alex Karashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05398068721281907129noreply@blogger.com86tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7825899785840631460.post-33807846110923334182015-12-24T15:57:00.000-08:002015-12-24T16:11:12.500-08:00Little Lights <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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How happy he, who free from care<br />
The rage of courts, and noise of towns;<br />
Contented breathes his native air,<br />
In his own grounds.<br />
<br />
Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread,<br />
Whose flocks supply him with attire,<br />
Whose trees in summer yield him shade,<br />
In winter fire.<br />
<br />
<b>Ode On Solitude</b> by Alexander Pope<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stock 206 by UmbraDeNoapte-Stock.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br />
A Refuge For The Broken </span><br />
<br />
Katschberg, Austria<br />
<br />
Peter Aitken stepped out purposefully into the bright winter sunshine and took a deep breath.<br />
<br />
He was holding his goggles and skis firmly in his gloved hands. <br />
<br />
The air was fresh and clean and at last it felt good to be away from London.<br />
<br />
Outstretched before him the majestic Austrian mountains rose out of the snowy planes like mountains<br />
<br />
They towered above him like giant monoliths.<br />
<br />
Peter Aitken squinted up at the winter sun.<br />
<br />
It seemed to be smiling down upon him.<br />
<br />
Christmas was three weeks away and Aitken faced the prospect of spending it alone in his Pimlico flat.<br />
<br />
Watching repeats on TV and staring down at his half empty glass of Prosecco. <br />
<br />
But for now he was on a fourteen day skiing vacation and he felt better today then he had done in a long while.<br />
<br />
Peter Aitken felt alive.<br />
<br />
He had arrived in Austria a couple of days before but only now was he allowing himself to relax.<br />
<br />
Aitken had even left his phone on the night stand back at the log cabin he was staying in.<br />
<br />
He was taking no calls.<br />
<br />
It was a new experience for workaholic Peter Aitken. <br />
<br />
He politely nodded to the friendly Japanese couple he had met the night before at dinner.<br />
<br />
They nodded enthusiastically back.<br />
<br />
Aitken had shared his memories of Tokyo with Hachiro Fujino and his wife Nao over baked Cannelloni.<br />
<br />
Now he watched as they disappeared into a swarm of tourists all eager to try out the slopes or enjoy the bracing winter air.<br />
<br />
Peter Aitken owned the successful.Syntax Inc. IT company.<br />
<br />
Based in London but with sister companies in the States, Germany and Dubai, Aitken was riding the professional crest of a wave.<br />
<br />
He was boyishly good looking with wavy brown hair and crisp blue eyes and was as dedicated to out door sports as he was to a profit margin.<br />
<br />
Whitewater canoeing, mountain climbing and trekking through the Sierra Nevada were just a few of his obsessions.<br />
<br />
Peter Aitken had been separated from his wife for just over a year now.<br />
<br />
His American wife had returned to her native Texas not long after and Aitken had attempted to lose himself in feverish activity. <br />
<br />
And deep down, he was glad his father hadn't lived to see his only son's world fall apart.<br />
<br />
His perfect world.<br />
<br />
Martin Aitkin had been proud of his boy's achievement and he and his wife Gillian had been fond of his choice of wife<br />
<br />
The vivacious American girl as sweet as cherry pie..<br />
<br />
And the new bride became instant friends with his sister Rosie.<br />
<br />
But that was then.<br />
<br />
Since his father's passing Peter's mother was forever checking up on him to make sure he was eating properly and getting enough sleep.<br />
<br />
The attention was comforting but it did not assuage the ache inside.<br />
<br />
The guilt and the pain.<br />
<br />
No matter how well his companies performed or how much he achieved, Peter Aitken still went home to an empty flat in Pimlico.<br />
<br />
Sometimes it was as if he were in a silent movie.<br />
<br />
People spoke but no sound came out.<br />
<br />
Other times it felt as if he were submerged underwater.<br />
<br />
Like when he was a little boy and held his head underwater in the bath tub ....<br />
<br />
A stab of pain shot through his heart.<br />
<br />
The old familiar ache was there again.<br />
<br />
The memories still so raw.<br />
<br />
For a brief moment he remembered burying his golden retriever in the back garden of his mother's house before he left for Austria.<br />
<br />
Arthur had been his constant companion for as long as he could remember but he had been poorly of late.<br />
<br />
His eyes were clouded with tears as he placed the dead animal into the shallow grave.<br />
<br />
The sky was grey that day.<br />
<br />
Everything was grey.<br />
<br />
Then he thought he saw a blonde woman in the crowd.<br />
<br />
She looked back at him and smiled.<br />
<br />
Then he remembered.<br />
<br />
It was all coming back to him.<br />
<br />
A cool night in early December.<br />
<br />
Soho, London.<br />
<br />
"My hero!" She cried.<br />
<br />
Peter Aitken looked up from the ground where he had successfully rugby tackled the mugger and was restraining him in a head lock.<br />
<br />
The pretty blonde woman was looking down at him and smiling appreciatively.<br />
<br />
She and her girlfriend were leaving the cinema when the surly mugger pounced from shadows of the alleyway and grabbed her handbag.<br />
<br />
Peter Aiken was just leaving a bar and saw what happened and was quick on his feet.<br />
<br />
"Help! Somebody please!" The blonde girl screamed as the mugger tore away.<br />
<br />
But Aitken quickly caught up with the crook and within moments he was on the ground.<br />
<br />
"My hero!" She cried.<br />
<br />
"Way to go!" The other girl cried.<br />
<br />
They were both American.<br />
<br />
Pert, blonde and very pretty.<br />
<br />
Her friend was giggling beside her.<br />
<br />
Peter blushed brightly.<br />
<br />
"Fuck you!" The mugger snarled.<br />
<br />
Peter let him go with a well aimed boot up the behind.<br />
<br />
He scarpered off into the night.<br />
<br />
The two girls giggled.<br />
<br />
"I don't think you'll be getting any more trouble from him tonight" Aitken informed the two girls as he handed the handbag back.<br />
<br />
"I think you've found yourself an admirer!" The brunette said as she nudged her friend.<br />
<br />
She smiled.<br />
<br />
"My name is Jennifer" the blonde girl said as she held out her hand "Jennifer Voorhees"<br />
<br />
It felt soft and warm in his hand.<br />
<br />
"This is my best friend Kendra" she added indicating the brunette.<br />
<br />
The other girl shook his hand too.<br />
<br />
"You must be Superman!" Kendra smiled.<br />
<br />
"My name is Peter" he replied "Peter Aitken".<br />
<br />
"Pleased to meet you, Peter Aitken" Jennifer smiled.<br />
<br />
And that was how it began.<br />
<br />
A whirlwind romance.<br />
<br />
The modest city boy and the delightful Texan girl.<br />
<br />
They were married within the year in a lavish ceremony in Dallas and relocated.<br />
<br />
New York. <br />
<br />
The Big Apple.<br />
<br />
Peter Aitken could still taste the excitement of starting a new life with his new wife in the city of his dreams..<br />
<br />
He could still remember standing in his empty new apartment and looking out over New York from his windows. <br />
<br />
It was a brave new world.<br />
<br />
Aitken was shaken out of his reverie by two little boy's knocking into him as they ran past.<br />
<br />
He had been very reclusive of late and even his best friend and business partner Arnold Peat had been unable to coax him out of his flat for a session at the gym and a sauna afterwards.<br />
<br />
Peter Aitken was lost without his wife.<br />
<br />
In the early days of their separation, Peter Aitken had taken to sleeping on the couch in his swish London office.<br />
<br />
Everyone knew he was doing it but nobody knew how to approach him until Arnold Peat broke the sound barrier and expressed his concern.<br />
<br />
Even his trusty secretary Lucinda had begun to mother him.<br />
<br />
She like everyone else knew full well there was more to his melt down than just his split with his wife.<br />
<br />
But they didn't know how to reach out to him.<br />
<br />
He was a good boss but a man who kept his feelings to himself.<br />
<br />
Most people who knew him were baffled by the demise of his marriage.<br />
<br />
"We just grew apart" Peter Aitken explained unconvincingly as he stared down at his empty glass.<br />
<br />
He was enjoying a drink with Arnold Peat in The Jack Horner public house in Tottenham Court Road..<br />
<br />
"It just happened" he added.<br />
<br />
And shaky words hung in the air.<br />
<br />
"But so soon after ..." Arnold Peat began but stopped.<br />
<br />
Both men fell silent.<br />
<br />
Peat reached out and put a hand on his friend's shoulder as 'Unbreak My Heart' by Toni Braxton played from the jukebox. .<br />
<br />
On the day of his birthday everybody gathered in his office with a 'His Birthday Hamper' from Fortnum and Mason and fourteen-day vacation ticket to Katschberg in Austria.<br />
<br />
"All expenses paid" Arnold Peat informed him with a a big smile.<br />
<br />
He hadn't been on a vacation in over a year.<br />
<br />
Everyone was looking expectantly at him.<br />
<br />
They wanted the old Peter Aitken back.<br />
<br />
Aitken sighed.<br />
<br />
Just then the Japanese couple rushed past him and gave him the thumb up.<br />
<br />
He returned the gesture.<br />
<br />
The ski resort was bustling with tourists from all round the world.<br />
<br />
And suddenly he yearned to be alone on the slopes.<br />
<br />
For a moment he was transfixed by the snowy landscape.<br />
<br />
Everything was pure white and the sun was brilliant.<br />
<br />
The landscape was desolate but somehow comforting at the same time.<br />
<br />
Peter Aitken decided to grab a coffee before taking a ski lift.<br />
<br />
It was a good day to be alive.<br />
<br />
Jennifer Aitken rose early that morning so she could go for a little walk before breakfast.<br />
<br />
It was a beautiful day and she practiced a walking meditation as sunlight streamed through the tall trees.<br />
<br />
Perfect inspiration for a new painting.<br />
<br />
Jennifer was a successful painter and her latest creations were showing at the Agora Gallery in New York.<br />
<br />
Her most famous piece, 'Sunrise in Paris' which depicted the French capital against a fiery red and purple sky had won several awards and she was courted by multi-millionaires and rock stars.<br />
<br />
Painting was also cathartic.<br />
<br />
Jennifer's best friend Kendra Walden had been calling nonstop since she arrived in Austria the day before to make sure she was okay.<br />
<br />
She smiled as she checked her phone on her arrival.<br />
<br />
Two missed calls.<br />
<br />
Kendra.<br />
<br />
She showered and grabbed some fruit and a muesli bar in the dining hall and made a mental note of what she hoped to achieve by the end of the day.<br />
<br />
On her return to her room, Jennifer decided to go for a spot of skiing.<br />
<br />
An hour later, she stepped off the bus amid a swarm of tourists.<br />
<br />
The scenery was breathtaking.<br />
<br />
Jennifer had dressed herself against the cold and had tucked her blonde tresses beneath a black woolen Eugenia Kim hat<br />
<br />
She was wearing a pair of black Dior sunglasses and holding her skis in her hand.<br />
<br />
Jennifer looked up at the towering mountains..<br />
<br />
Soon she would be gliding through the snow.<br />
<br />
She yearned to be free. <br />
<br />
Her eyes caught the ski lifts rising up like a fairground ride.<br />
<br />
Jennifer made her way through the crowd.<br />
<br />
There was only one Funifor ropeway lift left.<br />
<br />
Jennifer paid the ski lift operator and climbed in.<br />
<br />
She hardly noticed the bearded man behind her.<br />
<br />
He was wearing a Canada Goose Shearling Pilot Hat and large black Bolle ski goggles.<br />
<br />
The man quickly paid his fee and clambered in beside her.<br />
<br />
Jennifer looked at the man beside her.<br />
<br />
But it was only when he took his goggles off that she froze.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4lSCcXlIBlTTmwAo_LB7GsSyBP2rmo72L_6JZW5AdeYppBtKCau1poeUil533Z9myi5AQCAzLsRJIs6wgoNnB8s1YDX2ZA5tyizPPwe_wMvGA89LLFPKstM9JzF3mP6Av5LXB8vKW5Ys/s1600/Alpine+Winter+by+2753Productions.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4lSCcXlIBlTTmwAo_LB7GsSyBP2rmo72L_6JZW5AdeYppBtKCau1poeUil533Z9myi5AQCAzLsRJIs6wgoNnB8s1YDX2ZA5tyizPPwe_wMvGA89LLFPKstM9JzF3mP6Av5LXB8vKW5Ys/s400/Alpine+Winter+by+2753Productions.jpg" width="383" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12.8px;">Alpine Winter (by 2753Productions deviantart.com)</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
It was as if the bells of Notre Dame were chiming in her head.<br />
<br />
"Look's like its me and you" said Peter Aitken.<br />
<br />
Jennifer Aitken was feeling a mixture of emotions as it dawned on her that she was sitting beside her estranged husband.<br />
<br />
He had grown a beard and that was what must have thrown her.<br />
<br />
She pretended to be looking over her shoulder at the scenery as the ski lift continued to rise steadily.<br />
<br />
Behind them like a conveyor belt of Funifor's were numerous excited tourists talking animatedly in a myriad languages.<br />
<br />
Jennifer noticed that Peter was wearing the cologne she had bought him a couple of birthday's ago.<br />
<br />
She could barely conceal a smile.<br />
<br />
"Of <i>all</i> the places" Jennifer remarked.<br />
<br />
The bitterness in her voice stung him but he was genuinely happy to see her.<br />
<br />
For a few moments he silently observed her.<br />
<br />
He had always loved her silky blonde hair.<br />
<br />
And suddenly he fought the urge to reach out and take off her cashmere hat to let tresses flow out like a golden waterfall.<br />
<br />
She was pouting in that broody way she had. <br />
<br />
He was aware that she was avoiding his gaze.<br />
<br />
"How long are you here for?" Peter asked her.<br />
<br />
"A couple of weeks"<br />
<br />
"Me too"<br />
<br />
The couple fell silent as the ski clattered upwards.<br />
<br />
Jennifer observed her husband through the corner of her eye.<br />
<br />
He was still handsome with his floppy brown hair and quizzical expression.<br />
<br />
The couple looked down at their hands and then pretended to be looking in opposite directions at the snow capped mountains around them.<br />
<br />
"What are you doing for Christmas?" Jennifer finally asked without looking at him.<br />
<br />
"With Rosie on Christmas day. And then a bottle of Prosecco. You?"<br />
<br />
"With Ma and Pa"<br />
<br />
The couple were silent once more.<br />
<br />
Only the sound of the clattering ski lift and enthusiastic tourists filled the air.<br />
<br />
"How are ... Rosie's kids?" Jennifer finally asked.<br />
<br />
Peter felt a stab of pain to the heart.<br />
<br />
He pictured the two angelic children.<br />
<br />
Ella and Jake.<br />
<br />
Two little angels.<br />
<br />
"They're doing good" he replied "Ella has just started nursery"<br />
<br />
Jennifer quickly glanced at her estranged husband.<br />
<br />
There was a momentary ray of hope before she looked the other way again.<br />
<br />
Peter's heart sank like a rock to the bottom of the sea.<br />
<br />
Suddenly there was a loud screeching sound and the ski lifts ground to a halt with a violent shudder.<br />
<br />
Animated chatter turned into exclamations of irritation and frustration.<br />
<br />
There were a few more chugs and mechanical grunts but the ski lifts remained where; perched perilously above the mountains.<br />
<br />
Below them they could make out the Ski Lift Operator arguing on the telephone.<br />
<br />
"Must happen all the time" Peter announced chirpily attempting to lighten the atmosphere.<br />
<br />
Jennifer let out a long sigh.<br />
<br />
She was pouting again.<br />
<br />
This was not how she planned to spend her vacation.<br />
<br />
"Guess all we can do is wait" Peter added.<br />
<br />
Jennifer felt a hot rush of anger.<br />
<br />
She shot her estranged husband a dagger look.<br />
<br />
Always stating the obvious.<br />
<br />
But like a true Brit, he was emotionally challenged and unable to express what he was <i>really</i> feeling.<br />
<br />
She folded her arms defensively across her chest.<br />
<br />
If she was going to freeze to death at least it would be on top of a mountain.<br />
<br />
She was avoiding his gaze again.<br />
<br />
Peter was always the one slow to anger and cool, calm and collected.<br />
<br />
But this drama could well end in two wooden boxes.<br />
<br />
He glanced at his watch.<br />
<br />
They had been stranded for thirty minutes already and beneath them the Ski Lift Operator was arguing with the Ski Lift Technician now.<br />
<br />
His face was red and his arms were flailing about like windmills.<br />
<br />
People were screaming for help in their respective languages from their ski lifts.<br />
<br />
"Do you have your phone?" Jennifer asked.<br />
<br />
Peter checked his pockets and then remembered he had left his phone back at the log cabin.<br />
<br />
"No. Sorry"<br />
<br />
"Great"<br />
<br />
She fairly spat the words out.<br />
<br />
They were all doomed.<br />
<br />
A screeching siren announced the arrival of a fire engine as a large crowd began to grow beneath them.<br />
<br />
"I can't feel my feet" Jennifer suddenly announced.<br />
<br />
"That's normal up here. It will pass when we get down"<br />
<br />
She still refused to look at him.<br />
<br />
"Are you angry with me?" Peter Aitken asked her.<br />
<br />
That was it.<br />
<br />
The rage and frustration she had felt for more time than she could remember erupted inside her like a tidal wave breaking against the shore.<br />
<br />
"Am I angry with you? Yes, I'm angry with you and I'm angry with God and I'm pissed at life and every goddamn fucking thing!"<br />
<br />
Jennifer quickly fell silent again.<br />
<br />
She was shaking with rage<br />
<br />
Peter took off his gloves and flexed his fingers.<br />
<br />
Jennifer noticed his hands.<br />
<br />
He had beautiful hands with long tapering fingers.<br />
<br />
Peter Aitken was the clean-cut Englishman who never seemed fazed by anything.<br />
<br />
Even when they were stuck high over the Austrian mountains.<br />
<br />
Jennifer could not know how Peter had buried his pain and despair in his work.<br />
<br />
Nor could she know how much he had yearned to see her again.<br />
<br />
Peter Aitken played everything cool.<br />
<br />
Two hours had passed since the ski lifts had ground to a halt.<br />
<br />
Now there were a team of Ski Technicians working away beneath them.<br />
<br />
It was starting to get colder now and the tourists were frantically calling home.<br />
<br />
"I've told myself that this isn't about me ... to stop being so selfish ... but I feel mad sometimes and I just want to scream ... the world moves on but I stay where I am ..."<br />
<br />
Jennifer's plaintive cry filled the air as Peter fought to control his emotions at last.<br />
<br />
"You never told me" he said.<br />
<br />
"You never asked"<br />
<br />
Tears began to roll down Peter's cheeks.<br />
<br />
"I was a lousy husband. You needed me but I just wasn't there for you"<br />
<br />
Jennifer reached out and took her husband's hand.<br />
<br />
"It's my fault. I should never have left him ... I blame myself"<br />
<br />
Peter and Jennifer had decided to enjoy a picnic beside the riverbank with their little boy on crisp spring day.<br />
<br />
Joey Aitken was a robust six-years-old.<br />
<br />
He was blond and cherubic with his father's blue eyes.<br />
<br />
Good natured and full of life.<br />
<br />
It was busy by the riverbank that day, and the Aitken's were delighted when two of their best friends spotted them and came over.<br />
<br />
Jack and Vicky Green.<br />
<br />
They couldn't help but share their good news.<br />
<br />
"Peter has secured a merger with a Saudi company in Dubai and he's going over to check it out next week" Jennifer explained with a smile.<br />
<br />
"Congrats!" Jack exclaimed shaking Peter's hand vigorously<br />
<br />
Vicky scooped up little Joey in her arms.<br />
<br />
"Guys, that's brilliant news!" She cried.<br />
<br />
The little boy wriggled and after a few moments she handed him over to his mother.<br />
<br />
"It's a good time" Peter Aitken declared "Fancy some champagne? There's enough to go round"<br />
<br />
"An offer we can't refuse" Jack smiled.<br />
<br />
Peter snatched two glasses out of the hamper and poured the champagne.<br />
<br />
"Cheers!" Jack cried.<br />
<br />
Jennifer let go of her son and he retreated to play with his set of toy cars. .<br />
<br />
"Actually I'm glad you're here because we are thinking of having a little party to celebrate and we want you to come"<br />
<br />
"Of course we will" Vicky smiled.<br />
<br />
They were old college roommates.<br />
<br />
Vicky couldn't have children so she was delighted when after a struggle Jennifer conceived her boy. <br />
<br />
Her golden boy.<br />
<br />
"So happy for you" Vicky added.<br />
<br />
Nobody had noticed Joey slip away.<br />
<br />
"Thanks Vicky. Perhaps you can help me with the party planning"<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBDP3KDcaOc7ED0JQ4ZRR9xVrI2-re-Fl5Tw76WFx0XywpY6JGtkBzPQBZh3GHxewG0xcPWXK8t50Y0wmI0uQTqN45C6wqd5msfypqhz1JEX-uZnqKzPgKY4qjh0IvfdAKKwIGYyYAvk8/s1600/Drum+Bridge%252C+Winter+Sunset+by+Gerard1972.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBDP3KDcaOc7ED0JQ4ZRR9xVrI2-re-Fl5Tw76WFx0XywpY6JGtkBzPQBZh3GHxewG0xcPWXK8t50Y0wmI0uQTqN45C6wqd5msfypqhz1JEX-uZnqKzPgKY4qjh0IvfdAKKwIGYyYAvk8/s640/Drum+Bridge%252C+Winter+Sunset+by+Gerard1972.jpg" width="424" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Drum Bridge, Winter Sunset (by Gerard1972. deviantart.com)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
"Of course honey".<br />
<br />
That was when somebody screamed.<br />
<br />
All four of them leaped up and Jennifer dropped her glass.<br />
<br />
She knew.<br />
<br />
She just knew.<br />
<br />
A crowd had already gathered by the edge of the riverbank.<br />
<br />
That was when Jennifer began screaming.<br />
<br />
By the time they fished the little boy out of the water, he had already been dead for thirty minutes.<br />
<br />
He looked like a little rag doll.<br />
<br />
Jennifer had spent the duration of the search rocking herself on the river bank as Vicky attempted to comfort her with soothing words.<br />
<br />
Peter had been pacing up and down.<br />
<br />
For once he had lost his cool.<br />
<br />
Jack tried to assist the police and frog divers but it was all futile.<br />
<br />
Everything had happened so fast.<br />
<br />
A mother had seen Joey slip and tumble into the river and then he was gone.<br />
<br />
His little lungs were full of water by the time they pulled him out.<br />
<br />
Now Jennifer was weeping and shaking her head as she struggled to push the dark memories out of her mind.<br />
<br />
"It's all my fault. I should have been paying attention ... I am a terrible mother ..."<br />
<br />
Peter squeezed her hand tightly in his.<br />
<br />
"No you're not. You were a great mother and Joey knew it"<br />
<br />
"I can't believe he's gone"<br />
<br />
"We had six wonderful years with our boy. And I am thankful for that"<br />
<br />
There was a violent shudder as the ski lifts began to move again.<br />
<br />
"Santa Maria!" An Italian tourist cried.<br />
<br />
By the time they were on the ground again, Peter and Jennifer Aitken had found some semblance of equilibrium.<br />
<br />
It was already getting dark.<br />
<br />
They both looked up at the starless.<br />
<br />
"Full moon" Peter cried.<br />
<br />
"Make a wish" Jennifer replied.<br />
<br />
He could still see the girl he had fallen in love with.<br />
<br />
She was still in there.<br />
<br />
And beneath the woolen hat was a cascade of golden hair.<br />
<br />
He loved the way she tossed her head in that way she had.<br />
<br />
Those sky-blue eyes that could see right into his soul.<br />
<br />
The beautiful and maddening Jennifer.<br />
<br />
And she was glad that he was there.<br />
<br />
He was still her hero.<br />
<br />
Unwaveringly polite with floppy Hugh Grant hair.<br />
<br />
"We've been given a second chance" Jennifer said softly.<br />
<br />
Peter nodded in agreement.<br />
<br />
Typical Brit.<br />
<br />
Not great with the emotional stuff.<br />
<br />
There was nowhere the couple would rather be.<br />
<br />
Even amid the noise of the vast crowd around them and the sound of the departing fire engine.<br />
<br />
"Fancy coming back to my log cabin for a drink and a bite to eat?" Peter Aitken asked his wife.<br />
<br />
"Yes. I would like that every much" Jennifer answered him with a smile.<br />
<br />
And they made their way through the crowd hand-in-hand.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Mrs Gupta </span><br />
<br />
Leicester, East Midlands.<br />
<br />
Kristiana Bayliss took another glance at the Christmas cake recipe in her Delia Smith cookery book.<br />
<br />
Then she surveyed her array of little bowls filled with currents, sultanas, glacé cherries and other necessary ingredients on her kitchen table.<br />
<br />
She had flour, soft brown sugar and black treacle.<br />
<br />
She had the chopped almonds and the grated zest of one orange and one lemon and a little bowl of mixed candied peel.<br />
<br />
She counted four eggs and checked she had a bottle of Brandy.<br />
<br />
She had her cake tin greased and lined with silicone paper just as Delia Smith advised. <br />
<br />
Then Kristiana Bayliss realised that she had neither mixed spice nor grated nutmeg.<br />
<br />
She checked her watch.<br />
<br />
It was 9 pm.<br />
<br />
Kristiana Bayliss had been living in a modest terrace house in Leicester for four months.<br />
<br />
And with Christmas fast approaching she wanted to do something nice for the community she come to see as her own.<br />
<br />
What better gesture than to bake a cake for the Christmas fete at the local church.<br />
<br />
Kristiana was attractive and vivacious with brown shoulder length hair and hazel eyes.<br />
<br />
She was born Kristiana Liepa in Latvia but had come to England at the age of four with her parents.<br />
<br />
The family settled in Leicester.<br />
<br />
Her father ran a car hire service and her mother worked in a clothing factory.<br />
<br />
Kristiana had worked at Trudy's Hair Salon in Peterborough since her late teens but since moving to Leicester had begun making her own jewelry and selling it online.<br />
<br />
Kristiana's husband Mark had passed three years before after a brief battle with lymphoma.<br />
<br />
A year later she decided to move from Peterborough where she lived with her daughter to Leicester where she had been bought up..<br />
<br />
Mark and Kristiana had been childhood sweethearts and she felt his loss deeply.<br />
<br />
But she yearned to make a fresh start and she always dreamed of moving back to Leicester.<br />
<br />
Her daughter walked into the kitchen.<br />
<br />
Jenny Bayliss was seventeen and studious.<br />
<br />
She was a pretty brunette with a dimply smile and the hazel eyes of her mother.<br />
<br />
But Jenny was her father's daughter in everything else.<br />
<br />
Sometimes Kristiana had to do a double take when her daughter walked into a room.<br />
<br />
This was one of those moments.<br />
<br />
Kristiana paused.<br />
<br />
She felt an undeniable ache and then it was gone.<br />
<br />
And Mark slipped quietly away with his hand in hers.<br />
<br />
It was like yesterday.<br />
<br />
He passed from life into death as the snow fell outside the window.<br />
<br />
The suffering was over.<br />
<br />
And Kristiana tenderly kissed her husband on the forehead as her Latvian mother held her weeping daughter.<br />
<br />
Mark's death had come at a crucial moment in Jenny's psychological and emotional development.<br />
<br />
But she was a resilient little girl and she had already vowed to eradicate lymphoma one day.<br />
<br />
Nobody doubted her.<br />
<br />
"We don't have any spices for the cake" Kristiana sighed.<br />
<br />
"Can't you improvise?" Jenny replied as she pulled up a chair beside the kitchen table.<br />
<br />
"Not for this cake"<br />
<br />
Mother and daughter looked at the Delia Smith cookery book together.<br />
<br />
After a long pause they both looked up at each other.<br />
<br />
"Mrs Gupta!" They cried in unison.<br />
<br />
Mrs Prya Gupta.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-y_3dYJN9mql8t7qahxaBLqBzUyb-DCeF_eDlUyMPNdLzyFROOQ_6Rvey9aq8SOnsr0ZZuMZZgj54hk_lDabigs0AaZEmYOqN7BlBdsgDo0ST_bvM9zifQhB14CnhMQB7zotmnl0vftU/s1600/llonely+this+christmas+by+RickHaigh.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-y_3dYJN9mql8t7qahxaBLqBzUyb-DCeF_eDlUyMPNdLzyFROOQ_6Rvey9aq8SOnsr0ZZuMZZgj54hk_lDabigs0AaZEmYOqN7BlBdsgDo0ST_bvM9zifQhB14CnhMQB7zotmnl0vftU/s400/llonely+this+christmas+by+RickHaigh.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">lonely this christmas (by RickHaigh deviantart.com)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
She lived next door.<br />
<br />
Mrs Gupta was a sweet faced Asian woman of indeterminate years from Bangalore in India.<br />
<br />
She was tiny, birdlike and animated.<br />
<br />
Mrs Gupta was a widow with one grown-up son named Ravi who was a heart surgeon.<br />
<br />
He in Boston, Massachusetts.<br />
<br />
Mrs Gupta was evidently very proud of her son and displayed an array of framed photos of him on the mantle piece.<br />
<br />
Of her late husband Prabhu, Mrs Gupta said little but it was clear he was never far from her thoughts.<br />
<br />
It had been an arranged wedding and for the first couple of years they had lived with Prabhu's parents.<br />
<br />
But eventually Prabhu set up his own shop selling Indian sweets which Prya made in the kitchen, and they lived above it.<br />
<br />
Prya's coconut laddu and kashi halwa proved so successful that they began catering for rich families.<br />
<br />
But Prahbu had always felt drawn to the United Kingdom and after ten years Priya and Prabhu arrived in Leicester with five-year-old Ravi in 1972 along with many other Asian's fleeing Uganda.<br />
<br />
More than 10,000 Indians and east Africans of Asian descent had already settled in Leicester but it was still a culture shock.<br />
<br />
Prahbu went into partnership with a friend and they set up an Indian sweet shop where Prya was able to resume her enterprise as a mistress of exotic deserts.<br />
<br />
Mrs Gupta would always be grateful to Leicester. .<br />
<br />
And she had been one of the first people to welcome Kristiana and her daughter when they arrived.<br />
<br />
She invited them over for tea and captivated them with stories about the Raj and her own homespun wisdom.<br />
<br />
Mrs Gupta was an enthralling storyteller and utterly captivating when in full flow.<br />
<br />
Kristiana and her daughter were utterly transfixed.<br />
<br />
She regaled them with stories about her celebrated sweets and how she wooed British royalty and famous Bollywood movie stairs with her exotic delights.<br />
<br />
Surely Mrs Gupta would have mixed spice and nutmeg in her well stocked cupboard.<br />
<br />
She knew that Mrs Gupta was also making a cake for the Christmas fete.<br />
<br />
They had met at Leicester Market the day before.<br />
<br />
Mrs Gupta was wearing a purple sari and her long greying hair was tied in a pony tail.<br />
<br />
She was particularly animated as she pulled her little trolley filled with groceries.<br />
<br />
Kristiana insisted that she come back to her house for a cup of tea.<br />
<br />
But Mrs Gupta insisted she was far too busy.<br />
<br />
"I have a cake to make my dear" she explained.<br />
<br />
"How lovely ..."<br />
<br />
"For the Christmas fete!"<br />
<br />
It had completely slipped Kristiana's mind.<br />
<br />
Her mother had been a devout Roman Catholic and Kristiana liked to attend Mass when she could.<br />
<br />
Not only did it connect her to fragments of her faith but to her mother and she country she had left while still a child.<br />
<br />
The fete was on Saturday and it was already Wednesday.<br />
<br />
"I completely forgot" Kristiana declared.<br />
<br />
"I always like to make a special cake and the Reverend loves it and always comes back for more"<br />
<br />
Mrs Gupta patted her on the hand.<br />
<br />
"It's for the baby Jesus" she smiled.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
Kristiana could still remember the first time she had seen Mrs Gupta's kitchen.<br />
<br />
It was like an Aladdin's cave of jars and bottle filled with exotic concoctions and spices.<br />
<br />
There were vegetables of every kind and large bags of Basmati rice and flour.<br />
<br />
The house always smelled of patchouli from the incense sticks that Mrs Gupta burned and there was a large statue of the elephant god Ganesh in the sitting room.<br />
<br />
"The remover of obstacles" Mrs Gupta informed the curious Kristiana.<br />
<br />
"I always wondered"<br />
<br />
There was a little shrine in the corner of her bedroom with an icon of Mary holding the baby Jesus, a little statue of Buddha, a picture of Guru Nanak and a little Muslim prayer card. .<br />
<br />
A little candle flickered on the table.<br />
<br />
"For the spirits" Mrs Gupta told Kristiana mysteriously.<br />
<br />
There was something very motherly about the kindly Asian woman.<br />
<br />
And something very unusual.<br />
<br />
Kristiana sent out her daughter and she returned twenty minutes later with the spices and a bag full of cooking apples from the tree in her garden.<br />
<br />
"What we do without Mrs Gupta?" She smiled.<br />
<br />
Now she had all her ingredients, she set about her task and by the time she had finished she had nodded off at the kitchen table.<br />
<br />
The following morning Kristiana looked with pride on her handiwork.<br />
<br />
It even resembled the picture of the Christmas cake in the Delia Smith cookery book.<br />
<br />
She drove her daughter to her work experience job at John Lewis and while she was there she bought a box of Charbonnel et Walker Plain Chocolate Truffles for Mrs Gupta to say thank you.<br />
<br />
As she parked her car in front of her house Kristiana remembered Mrs Gupta's words and the intense look in her black eyes.<br />
<br />
"It's for baby Jesus"<br />
<br />
She smiled as she mused on the magnificent cake that she would surely have made.<br />
<br />
It must have been special if even the Reverend had second helpings.<br />
<br />
Mrs Gupta welcomed Kristiana with open arms and ushered her in.<br />
<br />
She always felt at home in her house with it's creature comforts and unmistakable aroma of burning patchouli incense sticks.<br />
<br />
Mrs Gupta put the kettle on.<br />
<br />
Kristiana surveyed the well stocked kitchen; it was neat and well ordered.<br />
<br />
Then she noticed the large glass domed cake plate on the kitchen table by the window.<br />
<br />
Kristiana gazed in wonderment at it and mused on the culinary masterpiece that Mrs Gupta had created.<br />
<br />
"Ah, my special Christmas cake!" The spry Asian woman declared with pride as if she could read her guests mind.<br />
<br />
Then she walked over and removed the glass dome. with a flourish.<br />
<br />
Kristiana's eyes widened with astonishment.<br />
<br />
It appeared to be some sort of seed cake and it had a curious but not unpleasant smell.<br />
<br />
She had never seen anything like it before.<br />
<br />
"It looks delicious!" Kristiana cried.<br />
<br />
Mrs Gupta surreptitiously prepared the tea and carried it on a little gold tray with a plate of biscuits to the kitchen table.<br />
<br />
"It's my <i>special</i> cake" Mrs Gupta informed her.<br />
<br />
She offered Kristiana a biscuit.<br />
<br />
"For the baby Jesus" she added with a smile.<br />
<br />
Kristiana's fascination had been spiked.<br />
<br />
"You must give me the recipe!"<br />
<br />
"I'll do better than that dear, I'll show my secret ingredient"<br />
<br />
Kristiana nodded enthusiastically.<br />
<br />
"Yes please"<br />
<br />
"Come, come"<br />
<br />
And she followed the Asian woman out of the kitchen and up a flight of stairs to what appeared to be a little guest room or study.<br />
<br />
With a broad grin on her face Mrs Gupta slowly opened the door.<br />
<br />
For a few moments Kristiana was blinded by the bright floodlights.<br />
<br />
But as her eyes adjusted and she squinted into the room she was suddenly struck dumb and immobile.<br />
<br />
The small room appeared to have been transformed into an indoor greenhouse.<br />
<br />
A hothouse to nurture an ocean of specific illegal flowering plant with an unmistakable pungent aroma.<br />
<br />
Mrs Gupta was smiling all the time.<br />
<br />
She must have been cultivating it for quite a while.<br />
<br />
"I bought the first one from a man outside Leicester Market some years ago. It was so pretty and had such a nice smell and I've been putting it in my Christmas cake ever since" Mrs Gupta declared proudly.<br />
<br />
Kristiana's mouth dropped open.<br />
<br />
"I'll put a few leaves in your tea if you like"<br />
<br />
That was when Kristiana Bayliss fainted.<br />
<br />
Slipping in and out of consciousness she dreamed that she was about to be swallowed up by a giant marijuana plant.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Lost And Found </span><br />
<br />
Nazareth, Gallilee<br />
<br />
It was another blisteringly hot day.<br />
<br />
Rebecca had been walking beside her mother Judith through the bustling market.<br />
<br />
She was seven-years-old and already carried herself like an adult.<br />
<br />
Her father Nathaniel walked a little way ahead of them stopping periodically to talk to men he knew.<br />
<br />
As custom dictated, Judith did not address men directly outside the house but kept her gaze modestly averted.<br />
<br />
Rebecca followed suit.<br />
<br />
Her mother had instructed her well.<br />
<br />
Rebecca was an appealing child with black curls and large brown eyes.<br />
<br />
She was fascinated by the colourful stall holders and their wares.<br />
<br />
Rebecca looked with awe upon the many fabrics in a myriad colours and textures and the finest Jerusalem wool.<br />
<br />
She marveled at the baskets of pomegranates and mountains of dates and figs and grains.<br />
<br />
This day she was distracted by a man playing a flute in an alleyway.<br />
<br />
He was seated on a rug.<br />
<br />
A little monkey was perched on his shoulder.<br />
<br />
His face was weather beaten and his clothes were worn and dusty and the few coins scattered before him denoted that he was poor.<br />
<br />
Admiring passersby tossed him the coins and he gave them a blessing.<br />
<br />
Rebecca was captivated by the monkey.<br />
<br />
It was such a jolly creature and made her smile.<br />
<br />
She stood for some time observing the monkey as it frolicked on the man's shoulder.<br />
<br />
By the time Rebecca remembered her mother and father, they had already disappeared into the crowd.<br />
<br />
She felt a new emotion.<br />
<br />
Fear.<br />
<br />
The market was no longer a friendly place.<br />
<br />
It was populated by giants.<br />
<br />
She was surrounded by strangers.<br />
<br />
There were surly Roman soldiers striding about and laughing among among themselves.<br />
<br />
Rebecca yearned to get away from them.<br />
<br />
She already knew how cruel they could be.<br />
<br />
She had seen what they did to people.<br />
<br />
Rebecca pushed her way through the crowd as she began to search frantically for her mother and father.<br />
<br />
Tears filled her eyes.<br />
<br />
Then she seemed to walk into a man.<br />
<br />
He put his hand tenderly on her head.<br />
<br />
She looked up.<br />
<br />
The man was wearing white robes and there was a blue shawl over his shoulders.<br />
<br />
He had a dark, wizened face and piercing black eyes.<br />
<br />
His black hair was shoulder length and his dark beard neat<br />
<br />
The little girl suddenly felt secure.<br />
<br />
"Rebecca" he said.<br />
<br />
He knew her name.<br />
<br />
Then the man looked deeply into her eyes.<br />
<br />
"Rebecca"<br />
<br />
He smiled.<br />
<br />
And it was the most beautiful thing Rebecca had ever seen.<br />
<br />
She was not afraid anymore.<br />
<br />
"Rebecca!"<br />
<br />
Her father was calling to her.<br />
<br />
She turned to see her parents approaching her through the crowd.<br />
<br />
Judith held her daughter.<br />
<br />
"We were so worried. We thought we had lost you" Nathaniel cried.<br />
<br />
The man in the white robes disappeared into the crowd.<br />
<br />
"Who was that man?" Judith asked her daughter.<br />
<br />
Rebecca only smiled.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOXF9b8kqUV1BUVdibR-5a0_AJie-BELKq8VsnfUpyavAq3PgPHejzGUyTojr_lnvU1OmrHMIwlIGYaS6bcSyVJO-K7dmaKfiI-s-WkQjIFZXPT0CV0PCDKxE04BTivk4AOYyzWbGnYRI/s1600/Jaffo+Ancient+City+by+billydean.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOXF9b8kqUV1BUVdibR-5a0_AJie-BELKq8VsnfUpyavAq3PgPHejzGUyTojr_lnvU1OmrHMIwlIGYaS6bcSyVJO-K7dmaKfiI-s-WkQjIFZXPT0CV0PCDKxE04BTivk4AOYyzWbGnYRI/s640/Jaffo+Ancient+City+by+billydean.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jaffo Ancient City (by billydean.deviantart.com)</td></tr>
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<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="360" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/CcWEMxlvemI" width="480"></iframe>Alex Karashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05398068721281907129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7825899785840631460.post-72454295303632164992015-08-26T14:04:00.000-07:002015-08-26T14:04:31.489-07:00'Till Death Us Do Part (Part Two) <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOD3bo_qg750ikoQ8j6qdDB45xzfHivP7_qB_vVnbpz9TNLLLPTPx-5y1_cSjQCp5w_M0U1m5_E888Rq6-QCQv21Eh2wnVZWyhSocrZQ0EBLmH6GYmAX_PFylfvBBU66OGKalgNs_ZsvA/s1600/0897+by+nikodem+nijaki.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOD3bo_qg750ikoQ8j6qdDB45xzfHivP7_qB_vVnbpz9TNLLLPTPx-5y1_cSjQCp5w_M0U1m5_E888Rq6-QCQv21Eh2wnVZWyhSocrZQ0EBLmH6GYmAX_PFylfvBBU66OGKalgNs_ZsvA/s640/0897+by+nikodem+nijaki.jpg" width="513" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">0897 (by nikodem nijaki deviantart.com)</span></td></tr>
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<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Claudia</span><br />
<br />
Mayfair, London<br />
<br />
"I've left him!" Claudia Creed declared in tremulous voice.<br />
<br />
It was Harley Street, and she was standing before Miles Balfour.<br />
<br />
For a moment the words hadn't quite registered with the accomplished gynecologist.<br />
<br />
"I've walked out on Nicholas!" Claudia added with bravado. "It's over!"<br />
<br />
She looked fragile as she stood before him with one suitcase.<br />
<br />
Claudia Creed was beautiful and elegant but the marks of sorrow were etched on her face and her sad brown eyes.<br />
<br />
Miles Balfour wasn't dreaming it<br />
<br />
He acted decisively.<br />
<br />
"Jenny, please cancel all my appointments for the rest of the day " Balfour informed his secretary briskly via the intercom.<br />
<br />
Balfour had treated some of the richest and most powerful couples in the world including members of the royal family and he was much sought after.<br />
<br />
But the woman he had secretly loved for over a decade was standing in his office professing the one thing he had been waiting for the duration of her unhappy marriage.<br />
<br />
Work could wait.<br />
<br />
It took a lot to tear him away from Harley Street but today he was only too eager.<br />
<br />
"Let's get out of here" Miles Balfour informed Claudia Creed decisively as he grabbed his coat.<br />
<br />
It felt treacherous to be taking out the wife of his best friend.<br />
<br />
But the truth was, the marriage of Nicholas and Claudia Creed had been in trouble from the start and Balfour knew it.<br />
<br />
They were the two most mismatched people he had ever known.<br />
<br />
Back in the day, Claudia was a shy and self effacing actress just on the cusp of making it in Hollywood.<br />
<br />
She was Claudia Saab then and the darling of European art house.<br />
<br />
She was a breath of fresh air and she wouldn't even touch alcohol.<br />
<br />
Miles Balfour could feel something happening the moment he met and he knew her marriage to Nicholas Creed was doomed from the very start.<br />
<br />
Claudia was a pretty and charming Swiss woman who was totally unlike any of the women who had been with Nicholas Creed.<br />
<br />
Creed was confidant and rumbustious and devastatingly attractive to both women and men.<br />
<br />
And Saab was instantly infatuated with him and the whirlwind romance ensued.<br />
<br />
It was a marriage of convenience for Creed and nothing more.<br />
<br />
Nicholas Creed had never truly loved his wife.<br />
<br />
She bored him and there wasn't enough time in the day for that.<br />
<br />
Miles longed to take Claudia in his arms.<br />
<br />
He gently took her arm.<br />
<br />
"Everything is going to be okay" Miles Balfour soothed her.<br />
<br />
She was shaking like a leaf but seemed to visibly relax a little.<br />
<br />
"I can't go back" Claudia replied.<br />
<br />
Tears filled her eyes.<br />
<br />
"You don't have to" Balfour assured her firmly.<br />
<br />
He didn't need to know the details.<br />
<br />
He knew what Nicholas Creed could be like.<br />
<br />
Creed was the kindest and most generous man Balfour had ever known.<br />
<br />
But he could be selfish, arrogant and ruthless.<br />
<br />
Now the object of Miles Balfour's affection was standing in his office and his world had just been wrought asunder with just a few words.<br />
<br />
Perhaps he should have hesitated but Balfour had already formulated a plan which was guaranteed to elicit the enmity of Nicholas Creed.<br />
<br />
But he was willing to take the risk for Claudia.<br />
<br />
Miles Balfour knew how vindictive Nicholas Creed could be and there had always been rumours of much darker activities.<br />
<br />
He was a shark who could decimate his opponent with a smile upon his face.<br />
<br />
It all added an element of danger to the swaggering playboy that was Nicholas Cosimo Creed.<br />
<br />
Stories of his sexual prowess were legendary.<br />
<br />
Nicholas Creed knew how to fuck a woman.<br />
<br />
And at over six-foot tall with the good looks of a matinee idol and the physique of an Olympic athlete, his face on the cover of a magazine and in the gossip column of a newspaper were always going to be assured.<br />
<br />
On the face of it, Claudia was never going to measure up to the more experienced women of his choice.<br />
<br />
He had been one of the most eligible bachelors in the world but his parents had been pushing him to settle down and start a family to keep the auspicious Creed line going.<br />
<br />
So he chose the safest woman he could find.<br />
<br />
Claudia Saab was famous but not too famous that she eclipsed her new husband and presumably pliable enough to provide a few heirs and stay in the background.<br />
<br />
The Creed family approved and found her to be a "sweet girl".<br />
<br />
Saab was totally inoffensive and would give the Creed heir children and stay unobtrusively in the background.<br />
<br />
Or so they thought.<br />
<br />
Claudia had been dazzled by the handsome man who was wooing her and she was willing to give up her burgeoning acting career to be with him.<br />
<br />
He was the most exciting man she had ever known.<br />
<br />
Creed seduced her easily and she believed it was love.<br />
<br />
But she was wrong.<br />
<br />
The new Mrs Creed soon felt trapped in the golden, gilded cage that became her world.<br />
<br />
A fly caught in a spider's web.<br />
<br />
And much to the disgust of Cosimo and Perdita Creed, their daughter-in-law had only been able to provide their golden boy with a girl.<br />
<br />
Claudia Creed was also showing disturbing signs of rebellion.<br />
<br />
As far as the Creed's were concerned, the former Swiss actress was selfish and ungrateful but they did not want to have their son humiliated with a divorce.<br />
<br />
The Creed family closed its ranks.<br />
<br />
They blamed Claudia for the unhappiness of the marriage and the poor girl soon found herself more alone than ever.<br />
<br />
Now she had made a bid for freedom and it was suddenly too much for her.<br />
<br />
The last thing she remembered was the kindly Miles Balfour smiling at her as he opened the door of his chic London office.<br />
<br />
Then everything began to swirl around her.<br />
<br />
She could hear Jenny asking : "Mrs Creed, are you alright? Are you alright?"<br />
<br />
Then everything went black.<br />
<br />
Twenty minutes later and she had been revived by a concerned Miles Balfour and his erstwhile secretary.<br />
<br />
Jenny handed Creed a glass of water.<br />
<br />
She was sitting on the couch outside Balfour's office.<br />
<br />
"I'm sorry" she whispered<br />
<br />
"It's okay. You don't need to say a word" Miles told her gently.<br />
<br />
Claudia nodded and managed a smile.<br />
<br />
All the back to Balfour's Mayfair apartment, Claudia Creed grappled with the enormity of what she had done.<br />
<br />
She had turned her back on a world famous millionaire and the kind of lifestyle that countless could only dream of.<br />
<br />
But as the bustling city of London flashed past her, Claudia Creed felt like a butterfly leaving a cocoon.<br />
<br />
Creed was still badly frightened and her daughter was never far from her thoughts but she was with a good man and she would find her feet.<br />
<br />
The world seemed like an imposing place.<br />
<br />
Suddenly they were there.<br />
<br />
"Make yourself at home" Miles Balfour informed Claudia Creed with a smile.<br />
<br />
She was stunned by how plush and luxurious the spacious apartment was.<br />
<br />
There was a marble floor and deep pile rugs, huge leather sofas and and open fire in the living space.<br />
<br />
It appeared to be fitted out with all the latest mod cons and there was huge television mounted on the wall and remote controlled shutters and lighting.<br />
<br />
Claudia Creed took some moments to collect herself as she surveyed the surroundings.<br />
<br />
It was not some bachelor pad equipped with boy toys but the tasteful abode of an affluent man with superb taste.<br />
<br />
For several moments she marveled at the huge book case which spanned the length of an entire wall and for a moment she mused on her husband's classic library with its endless shelves filled with books.<br />
<br />
The books in Balfour's flat looked well well thumbed and had clearly been read and reread.<br />
<br />
She smiled at the stacks of neatly piled music CD's and vinyl and mountains of movies all neatly filed away.<br />
<br />
Claudia felt at home.<br />
<br />
She sank into the sofa.<br />
<br />
"I'll make some tea" Miles Balfour informed her as he took her suitcase into the guestroom.<br />
<br />
"That'll be nice" Claudia replied.<br />
<br />
Her eyes had noticed the drinks cabinet but it was obvious from the unopened and a couple of half finished bottles that Miles was not a drinker.<br />
<br />
Claudia had no taste for the hard stuff.<br />
<br />
And as she considered the next few steps in her new life, exhaustion overtook her and she slept where she lay.<br />
<br />
By the time Claudia awoke, it was already dark outside.<br />
<br />
"How long have I been sleeping?" Claudia cried.<br />
<br />
Miles had been watching her slumber for almost three hours.<br />
<br />
She looked like a little kitten curled up by the fire and at one point he had tenderly brushed her hair away from her eyes.<br />
<br />
"You were very emotional and tired, It's okay"<br />
<br />
"I'm so sorry Miles ..."<br />
<br />
"Don't be. Let's eat"<br />
<br />
Miles Balfour had ordered a Chinese takeaway and had kept it heated.<br />
<br />
He knew the novelty of eating it would not be lost on Claudia who had been waited on hand and foot for a decade.<br />
<br />
She laughed lightly and together they ate and drank champagne and talked.<br />
<br />
The white elephant in the room was still Nicholas Creed but they omitted his name, even when Claudia began to open up about her unhappy marriage.<br />
<br />
Miles Balfour listened intently.<br />
<br />
Suddenly she was the shy ingenue again who was completely without pretension.<br />
<br />
She talked about the early days of her relationship with Nicholas Creed when they would begin the day in one country and end it in a country on a different continent.<br />
<br />
Back then, Creed was attentive and considerate but it was clear that he was having misgivings.<br />
<br />
Claudia spoke bitterly about her snobbish mother-in-law and her indifferent father-in-law who turned against her as soon as they realised that she was not the girl they expected.<br />
<br />
She recalled the endless drip, drip of traversing the huge Creed residence or of spending time with rich bitches who were only concerned with their next vacation or pair of shoes.<br />
<br />
The shallow world of the privileged did not appeal to her and she even felt distant to her little daughter who was the image of her father.<br />
<br />
She spoke candidly of her drink problem and how she had turned her back on her career and now she wondered if the old Claudia would ever return.<br />
<br />
Claudia drank to numb the pain and the psychological torment of being with a man who did not love her.<br />
<br />
Miles Balfour fought the urge to embrace her.<br />
<br />
He spoke of his disillusionment with the racy world that he had once shared with Nicholas Creed.<br />
<br />
It had never been his world and he had never lived the playboy lifestyle.<br />
<br />
Miles had been engaged briefly to an American heiress but it hadn't worked and he had remained resolutely single.<br />
<br />
He still missed his father who had died when he was still a child and his mother who had only recently passed after a long illness and he had thrown himself into his work.<br />
<br />
Miles Balfour was a sensitive man whose work in the gynecological field gave him huge satisfaction.<br />
<br />
"You're a good man" Claudia told him.<br />
<br />
Then she traced the line of his face with her hand.<br />
<br />
The couple looked into each other's eyes for several long moments.<br />
<br />
They could feel something was happening.<br />
<br />
Mile Balfour longed to kiss the beautiful former actress but it was too soon.<br />
<br />
That night Claudia retired to the plush guestroom but was unable to sleep.<br />
<br />
Miles also lay awake in his big designer bed as he grappled with the days occurrences and the fact that the woman he loved was just a few feet away.<br />
<br />
But the shadow of Nicholas Creed still hung over them.<br />
<br />
The following morning Claudia emerged from her room in Balfour's white cotton Prada dressing gown.<br />
<br />
For several moments he marveled at how beautiful she was with her long brown hair tumbling over her shoulders.<br />
<br />
She was glowing.<br />
<br />
"You look absolutely beautiful"<br />
<br />
"I do feel better"<br />
<br />
"Come on, get dressed and we'll go out for breakfast and a spot of retail therapy"<br />
<br />
In her haste to escape, Claudia had left most of clothes and things back at the house.<br />
<br />
But she had won her freedom.<br />
<br />
For a moment she looked lost.<br />
<br />
"Are you okay?" Miles Balfour asked her with concern.<br />
<br />
She looked at him with big tragic eyes.<br />
<br />
"You will see Alicia again. I promise"<br />
<br />
Balfour could read her mind.<br />
<br />
As they left the flat, Miles knew that Nicholas Creed would be out looking for his wife and it would not be long before he discovered where she was.<br />
<br />
The media would soon be following.<br />
<br />
It might the last few days they enjoyed together before the storm.<br />
<br />
When Miles Balfour called his secretary that morning, she had already suspected what was happening.<br />
<br />
Jenny could be trusted upon to be discreet.<br />
<br />
Claudia Creed no longer knew who she was but with the help of Miles Balfour, she was sure to find out.<br />
<br />
The couple drove to Knightsbridge and Balfour showered Claudia with presents even when she protested.<br />
<br />
They ate lunch at Zuma before embarking on another leg of their shopping expedition at Harrods.<br />
<br />
It was 6 pm when the couple returned to Balfour's flat laden with bags of designer outfits, shoes and groceries.<br />
<br />
Miles prepared his "legendary" spaghetti bolognese and they shared a bottle of Pinot noir as they talked into the early hours.<br />
<br />
That night they were unable to sleep in their rooms as their minds inevitably reverted to each other.<br />
<br />
The following morning Miles Balfour left for work early.<br />
<br />
He was loathe to leave Claudia alone but she assured him she would be okay.<br />
<br />
"Go, people need you. Work your magic" she said, and she kissed him on the cheek.<br />
<br />
It was going to be a good day.<br />
<br />
That morning Claudia watched <i>It's A Wonderful Life</i> as she pondered the day ahead.<br />
<br />
At lunch time she put on a pair of black Yves Saint Laurent sunglasses and a Gucci hat and ventured outside.<br />
<br />
It was a good day to be alive.<br />
<br />
As she walked the streets of London, Claudia Creed mused upon her the turn in her fate.<br />
<br />
She was still afraid and convinced she was being followed.<br />
<br />
It was a bright autumn day and red and gold leaves swirled before her as she sat on a bench in Mayfair Park.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZbP8IbP28pdKnfwJpGi8wJmwL4YMiNiphyphenhyphen9ahZx_CxP-_UbolEn9rDbsvRvPglxFW24lUBOwmS-hJCm11s60N5YEXtSc29vatPlWgsMxGl_gRPQbarsQkeaeToKGN1IlbdMYl2BNWP9Y/s1600/Autumn+in+London+by+Little+Dreamer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZbP8IbP28pdKnfwJpGi8wJmwL4YMiNiphyphenhyphen9ahZx_CxP-_UbolEn9rDbsvRvPglxFW24lUBOwmS-hJCm11s60N5YEXtSc29vatPlWgsMxGl_gRPQbarsQkeaeToKGN1IlbdMYl2BNWP9Y/s400/Autumn+in+London+by+Little+Dreamer.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px; text-align: center;">Autumn in London (by Little Dreamer deviantrt.com)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Claudia observed a young couple pause beneath a tree to kiss.<br />
<br />
She smiled.<br />
<br />
Claudia Miles thought of Miles Balfour.<br />
<br />
He was her knight in shining in armor.<br />
<br />
He was the only man she could turn to and he had saved her life.<br />
<br />
And now she was seeing him in a different light.<br />
<br />
They had always exchanged glances and there had always been some affection between them but suddenly his kindness and consideration had taken a new significance.<br />
<br />
A mother and her daughter passed and Claudia felt a stab of pain to her heart as she remembered her daughter.<br />
<br />
Alicia.<br />
<br />
The pretty little girl who she was all her father.<br />
<br />
She had abandoned her.<br />
<br />
Claudia wept.<br />
<br />
When she had composed herself she strode out of the park with a new determination.<br />
<br />
She would see her daughter again and one day she would explain everything.<br />
<br />
As Claudia approached the flat she was convinced that a camera had flashed.<br />
<br />
She looked around her but could see nobody.<br />
<br />
They must have been lurking in the bushes or perhaps she was finally going mad.<br />
<br />
Whatever it was, the world would soon know that her marriage to Nicholas Creed was over.<br />
<br />
And then they would all be fair game.<br />
<br />
That evening Claudia prepared Älplermagronen for dinner as she listened to Miles Balfour recounting the day.<br />
<br />
He informed her that Jenny the secretary had assured him that nobody suspected that anything was going on between them or that anyone knew that she had left Nicholas Creed.<br />
<br />
But it wouldn't be long before it emerged.<br />
<br />
"I can't thank you enough for everything you've done for me. I would have been lost without you" Claudia told him.<br />
<br />
"Don't mention it"<br />
<br />
"You've saved my life"<br />
<br />
"I'd do it all again"<br />
<br />
The couple were looking into each other's eyes.<br />
<br />
Claudia was looking particularly lovely in a scarlet Chloe backless dress.<br />
<br />
She reached out and touched Balfour's hand.<br />
<br />
It was the moment that he had been waiting for.<br />
<br />
"You sure?"<br />
<br />
She nodded.<br />
<br />
Miles Balfour took Claudia's hand and led her to his bedroom.<br />
<br />
The following morning he awoke to find the woman he loved sleeping beside him in the big silken bed.<br />
<br />
They had made love all night.<br />
<br />
It was the first day of the rest of their lives.<br />
<br />
Miles arose to get himself a glass of water but was startled by the sound of loud banging at the door.<br />
<br />
The magic spell had been broken.<br />
<br />
The unmistakable voice of Nicholas Creed resonated through the gold letter box.<br />
<br />
"Claudia! I know you're in there! Come out!"<br />
<br />
Claudia emerged from the bedroom.<br />
<br />
Her happiness had been short lived.<br />
<br />
Nicholas Creed had come back to reclaim her.<br />
<br />
"Come on, Claudia! You know I love you!"<br />
<br />
Miles Balfour motioned to Claudia not to answer him.<br />
<br />
She clung to him as tears welled in her eyes.<br />
<br />
The banging continued.<br />
<br />
"Don't do this to me! You know you mean the world to me!"<br />
<br />
There was genuine anguish in Nicholas Creed's voice.<br />
<br />
Guilt united the couple as they huddled by the door.<br />
<br />
"I fucking know you're in there! You and Miles, you bastard! Show yourselves!"<br />
<br />
There was a loud crash as Creed kicked the door and then there was silence.<br />
<br />
The secret was out.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Veronique</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>Monmarte, Paris<br />
<br />
Veronique Bibeau checked the elegant Gaston Jolly clock.<br />
<br />
It was 3.30 am<br />
<br />
The beautiful French journalist watched her lover as he slept beside her in the big antique bed.<br />
<br />
Nicholas Creed look so innocent and vulnerable.<br />
<br />
Like a little boy.<br />
<br />
They had made love in a frenzy.<br />
<br />
Now the plush bedroom was silent.<br />
<br />
It had been the scene of many trysts but now the air of danger had finally been extinguished from their clandestine love.<br />
<br />
The world knew all about them now.<br />
<br />
And the tide had turned dramatically.<br />
<br />
The sassy journalist was desperately in love with a millionaire playboy and sometimes she no longer recognised the woman who looked back at her in the mirror.<br />
<br />
But she couldn't help herself.<br />
<br />
She arose from the big bed and slipped on her silk Kenzo kimono and quietly left the bedroom.<br />
<br />
The living space had been illuminated by a full moon and Veronique noticed that her phone had lit up.<br />
<br />
Somebody was calling her.<br />
<br />
And it could only be one person.<br />
<br />
Veronique sighed as she answered it.<br />
<br />
"Is <i>he</i> there?" The familiar voice demanded on the other end of the line.<br />
<br />
"If by that question you mean Nicholas ... then yes, he is"<br />
<br />
"Batard!" The caller spat.<br />
<br />
Mimi Durand.<br />
<br />
The uncompromising French supermodel was Veronique's soul mate.<br />
<br />
She was a seventeen year old teenage delinquent born on the wrong side of Paris when she was discovered by legendary fashion designer Yves Legrand stealing sweets in À la Mère de Famille.<br />
<br />
Back then she was just little Marianne Durand.<br />
<br />
Legrand was impressed by her kittenish features and gutsy spirit and her career took off shortly after that.<br />
<br />
She was one of the world's most sought after supermodels but in her head she was still the little street urchin who had been molested by her father and had watched as he beat up her mother and little brother.<br />
<br />
It was a rainy day in Paris when she first met Veronique.<br />
<br />
Her career was just about to rocket.<br />
<br />
She was the upcoming "it" girl and Veronique was promising young journalist just making her mark.<br />
<br />
Two worlds collided.<br />
<br />
Veronique had saved her life and since then they were like metaphysical Siamese twins; telepathically tuned into each other.<br />
<br />
Mimi Durand detested Nicholas Creed and she hated the way Veronique had changed since she'd been with him.<br />
<br />
She had always taken an interest in her friend's love life.<br />
<br />
None of the men had quite measured up, so why should Nicholas Creed be any different?<br />
<br />
Sure, he probably had bigger balls, but outside the bedroom he was just like all the others.<br />
<br />
Nicholas Creed was just another overgrown baby.<br />
<br />
Except that Veronique was genuinely in love with him.<br />
<br />
And it was killing her.<br />
<br />
Once upon a time she had been a self possessed woman brimming with confidence and<i> joie de vie</i>.<br />
<br />
But now her self esteem had been eroded and she clung to Nicholas Creed like a drowning woman clinging to a life raft.<br />
<br />
And her pristine reputation had been damaged.<br />
<br />
Nicholas Creed was better able to deal with it - he was a man.<br />
<br />
But Veronique was a woman and women never came out well from these predicaments.<br />
<br />
"Are <i>they</i> still out there?" Mimi Durand asked.<br />
<br />
Veronique walked over to the window and peeped tentatively out.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiApVefIBeTRpyxiRbfHDmpFjP_l9g1KwWVOTpmM0TIurEDw66bCdDay3-qYUiji14klB9fVgmyAhDDh74J3Vb87c4H4hNe7B_USgcz5NnILvF8JXGUHWh4f1WhQfxhklq3tqx0ZtLgnRk/s1600/Paris+by+sunbeamy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiApVefIBeTRpyxiRbfHDmpFjP_l9g1KwWVOTpmM0TIurEDw66bCdDay3-qYUiji14klB9fVgmyAhDDh74J3Vb87c4H4hNe7B_USgcz5NnILvF8JXGUHWh4f1WhQfxhklq3tqx0ZtLgnRk/s640/Paris+by+sunbeamy.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px; text-align: center;">Paris (by sunbeamy deviantart.com)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Several yawning photographers were huddled together in the moonlight.<br />
<br />
"Oui" The French journalist replied wearily.<br />
<br />
"Fuckers!" Mimi Durand retorted.<br />
<br />
Ever since the world had learned about the French journalists affair with the charismatic hotelier, lurid details of their relationship had begun to appear in the press.<br />
<br />
The media were permanently camped outside her exclusive Parisian apartment and she was followed everywhere.<br />
<br />
Claudia Creed's legal team had mounted an offensive which painted Nicholas Creed as a negligent and unfaithful husband and Veronique as a shameless French coquette.<br />
<br />
Nicholas Creed retaliated in characteristic robust fashion by getting the best lawyers in town and depicting Claudia Creed as a hopeless drunk who was neurotic and unfit to be a mother.<br />
<br />
It was war and it was getting ugly.<br />
<br />
This was the price Veronique had paid to be with her man.<br />
<br />
"It won't last forever ..." Veronique declared optimistically but there was a tremor in her voice.<br />
<br />
Mimi Durand could barely stifle a snort of derision.<br />
<br />
"Look, I just hope he's got a really big cock because <i>nothing</i> is worth all this shit!"<br />
<br />
She knew that Veronique was seriously in love with Nicholas Creed and she despised him for it.<br />
<br />
There was a long pause.<br />
<br />
"How long is he there for?" Mimi Durand finally asked but the note of irritation was evident in her voice.<br />
<br />
"He is flying out to Los Angeles late tomorrow morning to oversee a new hotel"<br />
<br />
"Cunt"<br />
<br />
"Well, if you're going to be rude about it ...."<br />
<br />
"Okay, okay. Don't go all Virgin Mary on me ... I'll be round there at 1pm"<br />
<br />
"Right then"<br />
<br />
"You better be. We've got a lot to talk about and the paparazzi are going to be all over us like bitches in heat"<br />
<br />
"Oui bien sûr"<br />
<br />
"Don't forget to tell that son of a bitch to drop dead from me"<br />
<br />
The phone clicked off.<br />
<br />
Veronique smiled to herself.<br />
<br />
"Que ferais-je sans toi Mimi" she sighed.<br />
<br />
Later that morning she watched through a crack in the curtains as her lover waded through the baying media crowd.<br />
<br />
They had had a passionate farewell and Veronique had reluctantly let Nicholas Creed go.<br />
<br />
Now she watched as he climbed into the waiting limousine, pausing briefly to look up.<br />
<br />
Then he was gone in a blaze of flashing cameras.<br />
<br />
And suddenly Veronique felt completely empty.<br />
<br />
News of Nicholas Creed's breakup was front page headlines and on the cover of several down market magazines.<br />
<br />
Neither Creed nor Veronique could escape the scrutiny so they decided to give in to it.<br />
<br />
They had nothing to hide anymore.<br />
<br />
They were in love.<br />
<br />
But nobody knew just how much guilt still plagued Veronique.<br />
<br />
They could not know that she had been prescribed anti-depressants and was taking uppers and downers.<br />
<br />
Her career had stalled because it was just too tricky for her to get to the office and she was forced to work completely from home.<br />
<br />
The French still adored her but they questioned her judgement and she was no longer the golden girl who could do no wrong.<br />
<br />
Veronique was now a fallen angel.<br />
<br />
She would have to find the strength to pull herself together and face the day.<br />
<br />
Veronique ran herself a bath and pinned up her raven hair.<br />
<br />
She swallowed a couple of pills with a glass of water.<br />
<br />
"The show must go on"<br />
<br />
At exactly 1pm, a shout that was more like a battle cry filled the airwaves.<br />
<br />
Mimi Durand had arrived.<br />
<br />
"Blow us a kiss!" An Australian photographer called out to her.<br />
<br />
"Kiss my ass!" Mimi Durand yelled back at him.<br />
<br />
A cheer rose among the throng as she pushed her way through.<br />
<br />
Veronique laughed lightly as she observed the scene from the balcony.<br />
<br />
Life with Mimi was never dull.<br />
<br />
Durand buzzed up.<br />
<br />
"Bitch, it's me!"<br />
<br />
Veronique was dressed in a grey woolen Marc Jacobs dress and black Yves Saint Laurent coat.<br />
<br />
Her black hair was tucked into a black cap and she was wearing large black Dior sunglasses.<br />
<br />
Mimi Durand appeared dramatically at the door.<br />
<br />
She was wearing a tight black Azzedine Alaia beneath a long black cashmere Prada coat and her trademark wild dark brown hair was tumbling all over her shoulders.<br />
<br />
Mimi took off her big Chloe sunglasses.<br />
<br />
"Vous regardez bien!" she exclaimed.<br />
<br />
"Merci"<br />
<br />
"Now, let;s get the fuck out of here. I'm <i>starving</i>!"<br />
<br />
The media converged upon the two women as they stepped out into the autumn sunlight.<br />
<br />
Veronique clung to Mimi as cameras were thrust in their faces and reporters jostled for their attention.<br />
<br />
"Tell us about you and Nicholas Creed. Did he spend the night?" called out an Italian reporter.<br />
<br />
"Is he good in bed?" An English reporter exclaimed.<br />
<br />
"Better than you!" Mimi Durand shouted back "Now fuck off you little shit!"<br />
<br />
There was a scattered outbreak of laughter.<br />
<br />
"Oh, come on don't be like that. Speak to us Veronique!" A German reported protested.<br />
<br />
"Why don't you all just fuck off and go play with yourselves!" she exploded "Now let us through!"<br />
<br />
There was an outbreak of laughter as the media throng parted to let the women through<br />
<br />
By the time the two women turned the corner they were both giggling.<br />
<br />
"Mimi, You're too much!" Veronique cried.<br />
<br />
"If only I was, then you wouldn't need that bastard"<br />
<br />
"Please, don't ...."<br />
<br />
"He's no good! Look at the price you're paying for him"<br />
<br />
"Mimi ..."<br />
<br />
"I only hope his cock is big"<br />
<br />
Tears welled in Veronique's eyes.<br />
<br />
Mimi looked quickly around her before pulling her into an alleyway.<br />
<br />
The last thing they needed was an industrious photographer flashing their camera in their faces.<br />
<br />
It would be splashed across the newspapers and magazines before the day was out.<br />
<br />
"Look, I know you're taking pills" Mimi informed Veronique "I've taken enough to see the signs. What are you taking?"<br />
<br />
The French journalist took the bottle out of her Lulu Guinness handbag.<br />
<br />
"Fuck me, if you needed pills I would have helped you!"<br />
<br />
Veronique managed a smile.<br />
<br />
But Mimi could tell the signs of addiction and the devastated journalist was addicted to Nicholas Creed.<br />
<br />
"I hate what that fucker has done to you. If ever I get my hands on him ..." Mimi Durand snarled<br />
<br />
"Please ... just be my friend today ..."<br />
<br />
Mimi Durand nudged her friend playfully.<br />
<br />
"You never know. We might even light a candle" she said mischievously<br />
<br />
Durand was a lapsed Catholic who believed in God.<br />
<br />
At one point she had considered becoming a nun but only if she could wear black stilettos.<br />
<br />
They couple laughed lightly as they walked hand-in-hand towards Les Petites Gouttes.<br />
<br />
But the troubled French journalist's mood changed as they sat in the restaurant and she realised that other diners were staring at her.<br />
<br />
She had always been aware of quizzical gazes and it had always felt great.<br />
<br />
Veronique and Mimi were French icons after all.<br />
<br />
But suddenly the scrutiny did not feel good anymore.<br />
<br />
"What the fuck are you losers staring at?" Mimi shouted at them.<br />
<br />
She was in fighting mode.<br />
<br />
Veronique rose shakily from her seat and sauntered towards the ladies restroom.<br />
<br />
She closed the door behind her and ran into a cubicle, retching into the toilet bowl.<br />
<br />
When she looked into the mirror she was mortified by the haunted and hollow-eyed face that stared back at her.<br />
<br />
Veronique pulled out the bottle of pills from her handbag and swallowed a couple quickly.<br />
<br />
Soon everything would be okay and she would be floating on a cloud.<br />
<br />
She could hear Mimi Durand shouting and it made her smile.<br />
<br />
What would she do without her?<br />
<br />
By the time Veronique returned to the table, Mimi had finished off most of the wine.<br />
<br />
Her hands were still shaking.<br />
<br />
"Watch the pills" Mimi Durand informed her knowingly.<br />
<br />
It was obvious that Veronique had become dependent upon them.<br />
<br />
"Just a little longer ... just a little longer ..."<br />
<br />
Mimi Durand reached over and took her hand gently.<br />
<br />
"That son-of-a-bitch isn't worth it."<br />
<br />
And for the first time in over a year, Veronique was beginning to agree with her.<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">Nicholas</span><br />
<br />
Ascot, Berkshire<br />
<br />
Nicholas Creed took a long drag of his cigarette as he sat in his sleek black limousine.<br />
<br />
The divorce was getting nasty and the fight for custody of his daughter was getting ugly.<br />
<br />
He had retaliated in typical uncompromising fashion by going public about his wife's alcoholism and mental instability.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIHWksBFn80f-LXU-drqRkVcdEhBboh2erkeIiR24KZeyrSUzvfxmbIPDf-UUA_uzwT8KNtFqYxJzTjPWm_TksrJMzxQC2S2CPncRSevuGFj5kGZp1KWJpghekTyzFFWs-u_W0yWToLWU/s1600/River+Thames+1+by+Neo+Joe+Art+1997.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIHWksBFn80f-LXU-drqRkVcdEhBboh2erkeIiR24KZeyrSUzvfxmbIPDf-UUA_uzwT8KNtFqYxJzTjPWm_TksrJMzxQC2S2CPncRSevuGFj5kGZp1KWJpghekTyzFFWs-u_W0yWToLWU/s400/River+Thames+1+by+Neo+Joe+Art+1997.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px; text-align: center;">River Thames 1 (by Neo Joe Art 1997 deviantart.com)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
She was leading the kind of lifestyle that millions could only dream of and still it wasn't enough.<br />
<br />
She had been fast tracked to the millionairess big time but still she was not content.<br />
<br />
Claudia Creed was nothing more than a neurotic, failed actress with air between her ears.<br />
<br />
Nicholas Creed regretted ever meeting her.<br />
<br />
He should have left her where he found her.<br />
<br />
Creed had chosen her because she was safe.<br />
<br />
She had been pretty and unassuming when he first met her in France.<br />
<br />
She was successful but not ostentatiously so and was a safe bet.<br />
<br />
The kind of woman he could bring home to meet the parents.<br />
<br />
But now he realised just how big a mistake it had been.<br />
<br />
Anyone of his numerous lovers could have taken her place.<br />
<br />
"Ungrateful fucking bitch" Creed sneered.<br />
<br />
He had dispensed with a moral code a long time ago and reverted to his old ways almost as soon as the ring was on her finger.<br />
<br />
Two days after his honeymoon he was in bed with a pretty blonde waitress.<br />
<br />
Claudia Creed was determined to divorce her husband, get a generous settlement and take take the daughter she barely knew with her.<br />
<br />
She cited her husband's unreasonable behaviour and serial infidelity as grounds for the divorce and for custody.<br />
<br />
But her citation was dealt a death blow when it became clear that Alicia Creed was happy to stay with her father.<br />
<br />
Nicholas Creed mused on all this as he sat smoking in his big black limousine.<br />
<br />
His beautiful French mistress was everything his wife was not.<br />
<br />
Classy and sophisticated.<br />
<br />
And dynamite in bed.<br />
<br />
When they first got together they spent three days in bed in one of his luxury hotels in Paris.<br />
<br />
Veronique knew what to do and knew what to say.<br />
<br />
Unlike his wife.<br />
<br />
Drunk by midday and moping around the sprawling Creed residence.<br />
<br />
And now he contemplated his treacherous best friend.<br />
<br />
Nicholas Creed and Miles Balfour were so alike that they were often mistaken for brothers and since their twenties they had been inseparable.<br />
<br />
Creed had always suspected Balfour of being something of a dark horse.<br />
<br />
But he never expected him to run off with his wife.<br />
<br />
"Bastard!" Nicholas Creed sneered.<br />
<br />
The betrayal stung him the most.<br />
<br />
Claudia was a useless bitch.<br />
<br />
But Miles Balfour had been his partner and the only man who truly understood him.<br />
<br />
Now he was sleeping with his wife and laughing behind his back.<br />
<br />
For a few moments Nicholas Creed considered "dealing" with Miles Balfour.<br />
<br />
It could be arranged.<br />
<br />
But it was far too risky and could also easily backfire.<br />
<br />
Nicholas Creed would watch and wait.<br />
<br />
Claudia Creed and Miles Balfour were just a couple of dirty rats who deserved to drown on a sinking ship.<br />
<br />
Now as Creed contemplated his future he was jolted out of his reverie by a ringing phone.<br />
<br />
It was his mother.<br />
<br />
"I always knew she was a little tart" Perdita Creed spat "but I didn't know she was stupid as well"<br />
<br />
"Mother, please"<br />
<br />
"Running off with your best friend. I expected nothing less from her but I am shocked at your friend"<br />
<br />
"It's a double blow ... but I'll survive"<br />
<br />
"You're father and I will be speaking to Lester James of <i>The Independent</i> later today. We'll get our side of the story across"<br />
<br />
Nicholas Creed groaned.<br />
<br />
The media were already baying like hungry wolves out for fresh blood.<br />
<br />
Perdita Creed hated Claudia.<br />
<br />
She was a bad mother and a raging drunk who had humiliated her only son.<br />
<br />
And now she was trying to destroy his reputation.<br />
<br />
A failed actress and a gold digger.<br />
<br />
No better than she should be.<br />
<br />
"Hang her out to dry" Nicholas Creed informed his mother.<br />
<br />
The phone clicked off.<br />
<br />
Creed took another drag of his cigarette.<br />
<br />
"Where to, Sir?" Jefferson the chauffeur requested.<br />
<br />
Trusty Jefferson.<br />
<br />
He had been with the Creed family for over twenty years.<br />
<br />
An urbane, grey-haired man who was unerringly professional.<br />
<br />
"Take me to the beach" Nicholas Creed replied.<br />
<br />
"Yes, Sir"<br />
<br />
The beach was where Creed went to when he needed to reflect and work things out.<br />
<br />
It would be deserted and he could walk up and down the shoreline.<br />
<br />
He needed time to think.<br />
<br />
The limousine sped out of the iron gates of the Creed residence as cameras flashed and reporters scrabbled about.<br />
<br />
That evening Nicholas Creed was so sullen at dinner that even his daughter picked it up.<br />
<br />
"What's the matter Daddy?" she asked with wide eyes as she sat on the other end of the enormous table.<br />
<br />
"It's nothing, doll"<br />
<br />
"Is it Mommy?"<br />
<br />
Creed suddenly felt overcome with emotion and was unable to speak.<br />
<br />
The little girl put down her napkin arose from the table and walked over to her father.<br />
<br />
"It'll be alright Daddy" Alicia Creed assured him as she put her hand on his children.<br />
<br />
His little lady.<br />
<br />
Dressed in a pretty pink Chloe dress with her blonde hair in a ponytail and walking strait backed like a grown up.<br />
<br />
Not yet ten but already everything her mother wasn't.<br />
<br />
Nicholas Creed squeezed her hand affectionately.<br />
<br />
"I know princess, I know"<br />
<br />
He attempted to shield his daughter from all the media attention.<br />
<br />
He had wanted to explain everything to her but she was a bright child and she already suspected much of it.<br />
<br />
She noticed in the way people behaved towards her in the private school she attended and the strange people who were camped outside the school shouting questions and taking her photograph.<br />
<br />
And above all the absence of her mother spoke volumes.<br />
<br />
Alicia bare knew her mother because she had been bought up by others in the huge house almost as soon as she could walk.<br />
<br />
It was her father who made a great show of her, buying her pretty things and spinning her round as they frolicked in the endless grounds of the Creed residence.<br />
<br />
Claudia Creed was a shadowy figure who hadn't shown much interest n her daughter and occasionally looked in on her.<br />
<br />
"Bitch!" Nicholas snarled as he hugged his pretty daughter.<br />
<br />
That night he spoke to his lover on the phone.<br />
<br />
He needed to hear her voice.<br />
<br />
Nicholas Creed hadn't seen Veronique Bibeau in seven days but it felt like forever.<br />
<br />
At last they were free to live out in the open together<br />
<br />
And it was time Veronique met his daughter.<br />
<br />
The couple spoke of the life they were going to build together and of the house in Tuscany that they were going to share together.<br />
<br />
"It's only been seven days and I'm going crazy here without you" Nicholas Creed informed his lover in a voice that broke with emotion.<br />
<br />
"Another two days and you will be here with me again" Veronique Bibeau replied in her unmistakable accented voice.<br />
<br />
"I can't live without you" Creed declared.<br />
<br />
And Veronique Bibeau believed it was true.<br />
<br />
"I'm sending you a kiss"<br />
<br />
Nicholas Creed smiled.<br />
<br />
"You can have all of me"<br />
<br />
As he left his study, Nicholas Creed suddenly noticed one of the new maids.<br />
<br />
She was an attractive brunette with dark skin and black eyes.<br />
<br />
Gabriela, that was her name.<br />
<br />
Gabriela.<br />
<br />
"Everything okay, Sir" the maid said politely.<br />
<br />
Nicholas Creed noticed she had large breasts.<br />
<br />
"Yes, nothing that a little company can't cure" he replied with a big grin.<br />
<br />
The following morning Nicholas Creed awoke to his mother giving a grave interview on the NBC News channel.<br />
<br />
Perdita Creed attacked her "ungrateful and opportunistic" daughter-in-law and accused her of mounting a hate campaign to destroy her son.<br />
<br />
She declared that the assault had only "revealed her lack of breeding" and when she was pressed about her son's relationship with Veronique Bibeau she countered that the French journalist had made her son happy.<br />
<br />
The interview was followed by an excerpt from one of his wife's art house movies and there was a brief clip of Claudia Creed leaving Miles Balfour's flat with her head bowed.<br />
<br />
The news report also included a brief interview in which Claudia declared that she had felt "suffocated" in her marriage to Creed and that he was "incapable of monogamy" and was a "negligent husband" who had fractured her self-esteem and driven her to drink and to "find solace in the arms of another man".<br />
<br />
Nicholas Creed listened with incredulity at his estranged wife and he was on the phone to his lawyer Avi Sayer within minutes.<br />
<br />
"I don't care what you have to do. I want that bitch buried alive"<br />
<br />
Christmas was looming and Nicholas Creed sent his daughter to stay with his parents.<br />
<br />
They would make a fuss of her and make the festive season something to remember in spite of the media intrusion.<br />
<br />
Twenty-four hours later Nicholas Creed was on a private jet to France.<br />
<br />
Soon he would be in his sweethearts arms and everything would be worth it.<br />
<br />
Creed could go through anything so long as Veronique Bibeau was waiting for him on the other side.<br />
<br />
Within an hour the jet touched down.<br />
<br />
"Baby, I'm home" Nicholas Creed informed his lover by phone.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">St James Park (by joda001 deviantart.com)</td></tr>
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Alex Karashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05398068721281907129noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7825899785840631460.post-12874007571452874612015-06-30T13:04:00.000-07:002015-08-23T10:27:06.262-07:00'Till Death Us Do Part (Part One)<div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Where shall the traitor rest, </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">He, the deceiver, </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Who could win maiden's breast, </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Ruin, and leave her? </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">In the lost battle, </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Borne down by the flying, </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Where mingles war's rattle </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">With groans of the dying; </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Eleu loro </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">There shall he be lying.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">~ <b>Where Shall The Lover Rest</b> by Sir Walter Scott</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDvcxkWdo0-ePk8x2ByN2wfvbOniFMmOZwRyGLype8Ki4sXRV5dmgx0PQ5D4PZdcYTe_Hlx7wrGrj5ghJHcPRczaJ2UAlaLGNKkvBMoQULMPVXX8Zk1504LLUsbZtdTCA3QjH83Ks5EOo/s1600/A+Drink+a+Cigar+by+WyldSide+mx3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDvcxkWdo0-ePk8x2ByN2wfvbOniFMmOZwRyGLype8Ki4sXRV5dmgx0PQ5D4PZdcYTe_Hlx7wrGrj5ghJHcPRczaJ2UAlaLGNKkvBMoQULMPVXX8Zk1504LLUsbZtdTCA3QjH83Ks5EOo/s640/A+Drink+a+Cigar+by+WyldSide+mx3.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A Drink a Cigar (by WyldSide mx3 deviantart.com)</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Nicholas </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
Ascot, Berkshire</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
Today was a good day. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The tall, muscular man took another drag of his Cuban cigar as he surveyed his golden palace.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
It rose before him like a mountain amid its twenty-four acres of land. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Nicholas Cosimo Creed. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The charismatic multi-millionaire hotelier was a force of nature.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">His sprawling residence was quintessentially British.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
It had an elegant facade with two turrets and ground-level bay window and seventy-four rooms, including a games room, gym and personal cinema. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
Nicholas Creed was forty-six and heir to the Arlington luxury hotel empire.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
He had been born into the privileged British social class.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
The only son of Sir Cosimo and Lady Perdita Creed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
Nicholas had been raised in a magnificent Surrey mansion and educated at Charterhouse and Eton and was the original blue-eyed boy. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
He was tall and handsome and fast cars, yachts, glamorous parties and extravagant holidays with beautiful women kept him in the gossip columns. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Creed was nothing if not ambitious and at twenty-three he established the first luxury five-star Arlington Hotel in Bond Street.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
His good-looks and charm hid a steely determination and hunger to succeed. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
The prestigious Arlington Hotel was the apogee of luxury and opulence in Regents Street was the beginning of a hotel empire that would span two continents. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
There was an Arlington Hotel in almost every European capital and in many US states and it now it was expanding into the Middle East and the Far East. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
Nicholas Creed had inherited his father's drive but there was also a reckless streak to his personality.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
He had matinee idol looks and was six-foot-four and muscled with startling blue eyes and sleek black hair.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Nicholas Creed was effortlessly charming and had a disarming smile.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">He had a devil-may-care attitude which women and men found irresistible. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
Yet beneath the bonhomie and crisp blue eyes lay an ambitious and calculated man who was loyal to his friends and ruthless to his enemies.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Nicholas Creed was a shark who decimated his opposition with a smile.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
The gossip columns loved him for his movie star looks and his insatiable sexual appetite. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
Nicholas Creed had long been the most eligible bachelor on the party scene and his exploits were legendary as was his rapacious appetite and his performance in bed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
Creed was a famously <i>good</i> lover who knew how to satisfy a woman. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
Women and men loved him because he was always a gentleman.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
But for the last ten years Nicholas Creed had enjoyed some semblance of stability as he attempted married life with a former Swiss actress and model. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Claudia Saab. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
A pretty brunette with a child like face. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
The couple had enjoyed a whirlwind romance before marrying in a blaze of publicity in Monte Carlo. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Claudia Saab had given up her acting career to be with Nicholas Creed. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
Petite and striking with an endearing wide eyed innocence, Saab was beloved in her native Switzerland.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">She had been mooted to be heading for Hollywood until she met Creed at the Cannes Film Festival. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
Saab had been promoting her new film until she met Nicholas Creed there, and the attraction was instant.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">She had never met anyone like him before.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
Like so many women and men before, Claudia Saab found Nicholas Creed devastatingly attractive. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">He exuded animal sexuality.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Creed made her feel like no other man had ever made her feel and within days she was spending time with him on his yacht in St Tropez. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
Claudia and Nicholas Creed were the new golden couple and it seemed that the handsome playboy had at last been tamed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Now ten years had evaporated and the couple were virtually living separate lives. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
Alicia Sophia Creed followed shortly after, resembling her father in almost everything. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
In a couple of days time she would be eight-years-old and Creed was determined to make it a celebration to remember.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
Several large yellow marquees had been erected and there was a sea of white tables and chairs.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
Within the enormous designer kitchen there was a hive of activity as a world famous cook and his assistants prepared the choice food.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
This was going to be the birthday party to outdo all birthday parties.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
The world's media were expected to descend upon the event while the invitation only illustrious guests enjoyed Beluga caviar, Foie Gras and Prosecco jelly.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
It was a menu fit for a king and his little princess. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
Alicia and her childish friends would be tucking into party food from the hands of a gourmet maestro and the enormous chocolate cake with fresh orange and cream was the <i>pièce de résistance</i>.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
Yes, today was a good day to be alive. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Nicholas Creed stood before his glittering swimming pool in a pair of black Speedos as his ripped bronzed body gleamed in the hot noonday sun.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">He took off his black Prada sunglasses and stubbed out his cigar.and then dived into the pool like a champion swimmer.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Creed glided through the water and surfaced again.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">A shadow was cast across his golden world and his mood instantly darkened. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Claudia Creed was standing before him with a stricken look on her face.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">She had been looking thinner of late.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Claudia picked at her food and was often moody and standoffish.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Then Nicholas spotted the one accessory that his wife could not be without.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">For some women it was a new Versace dress, Fendi clutch bag or Cartier diamond necklace.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">But for Claudia Creed it was a glass of neat vodka at 12.35 pm.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The halcyon days of her early romance with Nicholas Creed had quickly evaporated.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">He had lost interest in his eager wife as he often did when he secured his quarry.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Sex without strings had always been his forte.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">And Nicholas Creed was notoriously well endowed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Claudia had been a lot less physical than he and she wasn't adventurous in bed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">And she was still grieving the loss of her career.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">On marriage, Nicholas informed his new bride that she no longer needed to work and she had slipped uneasily into a lifestyle that was alien to her.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">They no longer asked for her and after ten years of marriage she walked in the shadow of her exciting husband.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Alcohol had become her new best friend.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Claudia teetered where she stood.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"What now?" Nicholas Creed sighed with exasperation.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"You've been ignoring me!" Claudia replied with as much bravado as she could muster.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Nicholas rose stealthily from the pool and took the Gucci dressing gown from the silent manservant.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"I've been overseeing preparations for our daughters birthday party" he finally answered his wife as he slipped on the dressing gown.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Creed could tell she was struggling to control her emotions.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">She was so neurotic these days that he feared for her sanity.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"Not that you'd notice" he added sharply.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">His only child came first before everything. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Sometimes when Claudia looked at Alicia, she couldn't believe she was actually her daughter.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The child had virtually been bought up by nannies and maids from the moment she could walk.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"You don't come to me anymore" Claudia cried.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Nicholas Creed found his wife difficult and demanding.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">She had everything that a woman could ever want and it still wasn't enough.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">And now the couple were virtually living separate lives.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">He knew what his wife was insinuating.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">And as far as he was concerned she had virtually pushed him into the arms of another woman.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">And that woman was everything Claudia Creed wasn't. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Nicholas walked up to his wife and when their faces were only inches away he looked sternly into her eyes.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"Who do you think pays for all that alcohol you keep consuming? Who keeps you in the kind of lifestyle that millions only dream about?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Claudia was fighting back the tears.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">He had given her the dream life but it was an empty one.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"You drunk bitch" Nicholas Creed added nastily as he swiped the glass from her hand.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">His wife was an embarrassment.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">She had no self control.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">He had given her everything and it still wasn't enough. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">In the early days he would whisk her away to a secluded beach where they would plan their life together and dream about the future.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Now those memories were dead and buried in the sand. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Nicholas Creed strode past his wife as she dissolved into tears.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHwc9j5GxnFJrq846lE6zlfSOVWqpGusQp2A3Hc9VH5scrpqCvdkFi3fVsN1aYG5wE-qBZ6imK7YPtV8vEDvBXS8C_fbCV8BnKfSZ6woFx-4bMnDmcAJFnCTXECSmNkI_lSpNzNPRRDQI/s1600/Beach+Stock+Scene+N.+2+by+by+dying-soul-stock.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHwc9j5GxnFJrq846lE6zlfSOVWqpGusQp2A3Hc9VH5scrpqCvdkFi3fVsN1aYG5wE-qBZ6imK7YPtV8vEDvBXS8C_fbCV8BnKfSZ6woFx-4bMnDmcAJFnCTXECSmNkI_lSpNzNPRRDQI/s400/Beach+Stock+Scene+N.+2+by+by+dying-soul-stock.jpg" width="391" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Beach Stock Scene N. 2 (by by dying-soul-stock deviantart.com)</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"You've made me like this!" Claudia Creed screamed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">But her husband ignored her.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">She was such an ungrateful bitch.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Later that afternoon Nicholas Creed was due to fly over to Dubai to oversee the opening of a new hotel.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">He no longer took his wife because he couldn't trust her to control herself.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">As far as she was concerned he barely noticed she existed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Claudia Creed was living in a gilded cage and refused to take a lover like some many rich bitches seemed to do</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">She hated them.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Claudia had had to suffer their presence on numerous occasions at dinners and events and she couldn't relate to them.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">They were shallow and grasping.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">As far as Nicholas Creed was concerned, Claudia was not in the same league as some of the glamorous wives he knew.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">She was a one-time actress who made good and she should be thankful for what she had.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">But she was never satisfied.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">As Nicholas considered the day ahead he realised that he hated his wife.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">She was an unnecessary complication.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The vibrant young woman he had fallen in love with had been replaced by a neurotic woman who was so self absorbed she could not see past her pretty nose. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Their marriage was dead. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">And as Nicholas Creed began to dress in his plush en suite designer bedroom his thoughts turned to the one person he longed to see.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">But she was across the sea in an elegant apartment in Paris. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The most beautiful woman he had ever met. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">She would know what to say.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">What to do.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Claudia </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Claudia Creed applied a slick of fuchsia Dior lipstick and glanced at herself in the long mirror.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">She was dressed in a scarlet short-Sleeve tri-tone coluorblock dress and purple Manolo Blahnik 'Orlana' ankle strap sandals.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Her brown tresses were piled high on her pretty head.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"Very pretty, Miss Creed" Consuela maid commented enthusiastically as she observed Claudia.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Consuela Fernandez came from a poor Mexican family and had been with the Creed's for much of their married life.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">She couldn't understand why such a nice couple fought so much.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">They had everything and yet they were unhappy together.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Consuela had become indispensable to the one-time Swiss actress and frequently cleared away her empty whiskey bottles and articles of her alcohol addiction.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">She had become almost a mother figure to Claudia Creed but even she could not curb her mistress's dogged self destruction.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Claudia looked at herself sideways in the long mirror.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">She was looking thinner of late but the stylish gown complemented her still shapely figure.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"Thank you" Claudia replied.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">It was the morning of her only daughters birthday party and soon the world's media would be descending upon the magnificent Creed residence.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Nicholas Creed had made sure that it was an invitation only party and burly security guards had been posted everywhere to make sure only the illustrious chosen ones were let in.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">This was going to be the event of season.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">It would be a rare opportunity for Claudia Creed to shine among her peers.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">A late summer soiree with Hollywood actors mingling with billionaire hoteliers and minor royalty from Europe.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">No expense had been spared to make this a day to remember.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"It's going to be a great day" Consuela declared.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Claudia Creed smiled grimly.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"Nick never does anything by halves" Claudia replied but there was a note of bitterness in her voice.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Her husband had been locked away in his study for over an hour earlier in that morning.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Over the last six months he had been stealing away to talk in hushed tones</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Claudia always knew what that meant.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Even on the day of her daughter's birthday party the shadow of his mistress loomed large.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Claudia had never met the woman but it was hard to avoid her strikingly beautiful face across the continent.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The French journalist and writer.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"That will be all for now" Claudia nodded and Consuela obediently left the room.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The Mexican maid closed the door quietly behind her, and silently shook her head.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">She could sense trouble was brewing.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Nicholas and Claudia Creed should never have come together.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"Dios los ayude" Consuela sighed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Claudia Creed no longer recognised the woman in the mirror.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">She sat on the edge of the huge silken bed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Claudia could still captivate when the occasion called for it but these days she felt cast adrift in a turbulent sea.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">She had never become acclimatised to the jet-set lifestyle of the Ascot rich set.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Nor could she relate to the rich bitches who only hankered after the new designer handbag or extended vacation to far flung places.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Many of them regarded her as a has-been and looked down on her.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Claudia Creed hated them all.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The lifestyle at Ascot was a million miles away from the lifestyle she had once known as one of Switzerland's most exciting emerging actresses.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">She had been hailed as a Swiss Liv Ulmann and her director and mentor Sven Lindholm was regarded as the new Igmar Bergman.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Twelve years had evaporated and those days seemed like a lifetime ago.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Today Claudia Creed walked in the shadow of her husband and they no longer called for her.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">She opened the Farrah dresser and pulled out a small bottle of Scotch-Whiskey.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Claudia mourned the demise of her career with the help of her friends.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Jim Bean, Jägermeister, Absolut, Krug.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">She wandered her opulent quarters in the sprawling Creed residence like a ghost.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Claudia was a lost soul clinging to her past like a life raft. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">She was trapped in a loveless marriage and now her father James was dead and her mother Lena was too ill to travel from Switzerland to see her, Claudia felt more alone than ever.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Cosimo and Perdita Creed had turned against her. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">They believed that she was making their son unhappy and that was completely unacceptable to them and they made their displeasure known. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">Alcohol had become her refuge from the gilded superfluous life she led surrounded by sycophants who clung to every word her husband said and grasping social climbers who yearned for the big time. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">Not even the birth of er daughter could salvage her self worth.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">The child had been taken out of her hands almost as soon as she could walk and now when Claudia looked at her she could hardly recognise her as her own. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span>
<span style="line-height: 18px;">Nicholas</span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;"> Creed insisted that his daughter be pampered and treated like a little princess. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">He had transferred his affections from his wife to his daughter and now he only went through the motions with Claudia.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">They lived apart and slept in their own beds but put on a show of solidarity when the occasion called for it.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">And there had been other women. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">Only this time it was real thing.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">Nicholas Creed was in love, possibly for the first time in his life. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">And Claudia was a woman and she knew she knew.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">At the start of their relationship, Nicholas had been exciting and adventurous.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">They would begin the day in one country and end it in another.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">Creed thought nothing of flying across two continents to please his new wife. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">And he had been an energetic and attentive lover.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">Claudia Saab had been the perfect choice for a bride.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">Famous in her own right but</span></span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;"> in many ways naive and unsophisticated.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">A safe choice for a wife. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">But the novelty soon wore thin as the reality of married life kicked in.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">Nicholas Creed soon reverted to the life he had lived before he was married, and he left his wife behind. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">Claudia had become increasingly dissatisfied with her new world.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">She was no longer her own woman and often felt like the spectre at the feast at the glittering parties and events she attended with her husband. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">Nobody addressed her as they once did. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">Claudia Creed was no longer Claudia Saab but the wife of a dashing multi-millionaire. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">She was the wife of Nicholas Cosimo Creed. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">Claudia downed the Whiskey.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">Today she was being called upon to put on a performance and she wasn't about to disappoint. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">A rare opportunity to act. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">For a few glittering moments she would be Claudia Saab again; the leading light of Swiss cinema. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">The sun was shining bright when Claudia eventually stepped out into the sun amid a sea of faces,paparazzo and flashing cameras.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">There was a sea of tables and chairs and several yellow marquees rose imposingly to the sky. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">It was a media circus with little Alicia at the centre of it all in a pink Valentino dress, surrounded by huge presents and privileged childish friends of the rich set. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">She was already unsteady on her feet but she was a consummate professional. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">Claudia Creed posed and pouted as reporters vied for her attention.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">"Claudia! Claudia! Claudia!"</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">The Swiss beauty bestowed them with her most benevolent smile.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">"How does it feel to be the mother of Alicia Creed today?"</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">"It feels great!" Claudia purred "Nobody could be prouder than me!"</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">A roar of appreciation rose from the jostling throng.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">Claudia Creed was a star again.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">"Isn't she amazing?" Miles Balfour exclaimed "Bravo!"</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">He was standing beside his best friend Nicholas Creed.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">But Creed did not reply. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">He was glaring at his wife as she postured and played up to the cameras.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">Claudia was milling about the illustrious guests now and ingratiating herself with them.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">She caught her husband's reproachful stare but held her head high and swiped a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, downing it in one.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">"Who the hell does she think she is?" Nicholas Creed snarled under his breath. </span>
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; line-height: 18px;">His wife was in fine form today. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">But as Nicholas Creed followed her with his eyes he wondered if she could make it through the day without embarrassing him.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">Over the last four years he had made strident attempts to keep his wife's alcoholism a secret. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">But he was losing the battle.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">Only a year before, a national newspaper had published a contentious article much to the chagrin of Nicholas Creed. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><i>What's wrong With Claudia?</i> ran the caption. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">From then the speculation had become rife and Nicholas Creed suspected that many eyes would be avidly watching his wife today. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">"She looks stunning" Miles Balfour remarked admiringly. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">But Nicholas Creed was fighting to control the anger that was raging through him like a blazing fire. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">Balfour was a leading Harley Street gynecologist and had known Nicholas Creed since their Eton days and both men had been regarded as two of the most eligible bachelors in Britain. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">But where Nicholas Creed had succumbed to the pleasures of the playboy lifestyle, his best friend was much more discreet.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">Miles Balfour was tall and athletic with black hair and penetrating blue eyes.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">He so resembled that Nicholas Creed that the two were often mistaken for brothers but that was where the similarity ended. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">Balfour was of a much less mercurial temperament than his best friend and had remained resolutely single despite numerous partners and offers of marriage. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">He was intelligent, articulate and extremely wealthy.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">Miles Balfour was also very guarded and few people knew much about his movements.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">Nicholas Creed regarded his best friend as something of a dark horse.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">Creed's attentions had turned to his pretty eight-year-old daughter. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">His mood instantly lifted.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">Alicia Creed was enthusiastically opening one of her numerous presents surrounded by excited children and exuberant photographers and reporters. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">"Alicia! Come on girl, give us a smile!"</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">The pretty little blonde girl posed like a professional as they snapped away and called out terms of endearment.. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
</span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI5WiSesPoInWblsGw3ymqZ4gc8kEXG-mqenFm7KWWW0eTgxFKIANUKwH1gLzAF1Z797qirBHHdA_TkWljMi_PHAHPf5Eon3Td7aycwFFIFXjOiTm6P33clOjVt0r-P4tfsvyey7uNHvA/s1600/Whiskey+by+Delahkel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI5WiSesPoInWblsGw3ymqZ4gc8kEXG-mqenFm7KWWW0eTgxFKIANUKwH1gLzAF1Z797qirBHHdA_TkWljMi_PHAHPf5Eon3Td7aycwFFIFXjOiTm6P33clOjVt0r-P4tfsvyey7uNHvA/s640/Whiskey+by+Delahkel.jpg" width="426" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Whiskey (by Delahkel deviantart.com)</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; line-height: 18px;">Countless golden tables groaned beneath the weight of exotic delicacies while a lively clown frolicked about and a magician performed party tricks as children squealed with delight in a semi-circle around him. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">Miles Balfour had never known choice canapes, finest </span><span style="line-height: 18px;">foie gras or the best caviar in the world at an eight-year-old's birthday party. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span>
<span style="line-height: 18px;">But then again, Balfour didn't expect to see much of England's rich set or half of Hollywood attending it either. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span>
<span style="line-height: 18px;">It was the Mad Hatter Tea Party. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span>
<span style="line-height: 18px;">The pride shone in Nicholas Creed's eyes as the world's media swarmed around his daughter like bees to a honeypot.</span><span style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">And all the while Claudia Creed was lost in a sea of party guests. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">She was in her element and had momentarily forgotten her empty life.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">Claudia Creed was a consummate professional who could pin a smile on he face and fake it like the best of them.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">When she noticed </span>Sven Lindholm sitting alone in his trademark black trench coat and grey fedora, the facade dropped.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Claudia's face fell and tears pricked her eyes.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">It was the ten years since she had last seen her mentor and he had begged her to reconsider marrying Nicholas Creed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">But she insisted because her head had been turned and she was giddy in love.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Sven Lindholm was still the same sharp minded Swede with a wizened face, long grey hair and warm brown eyes.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">A grizzled old soul who had been here before.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The place was swarming with security guards but Sven Lindholm had managed to evade them and was enjoying a glass of Krug.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">He had been married four times was presently living in Stockholm with a twenty-five-year-old Danish model.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"My muse" Sven Lindholm addressed Claudia Creed "so, this is where you escaped to"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Creed felt exposed before as if she were naked.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"You found me at last" Claudia finally replied but was unable to smile.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Sven Lindholm looked deeply in her eyes.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"He doesn't deserve you"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The devastating words shot through her like a bolt of lightening.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">She was struggling to compose herself and unable to respond.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Claudia had given up her career to be with a man who barely acknowledged her now.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"You don't belong here" Lindholm informed her earnestly as he rose from his chair.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">One upon a time Claudia Creed had been a talented actress with a promising career ahead of her.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">But now she was just the wife of a millionaire hotelier who already eclipsed her.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Sven Lindholm had always worried about Claudia because she was so fragile and insecure but she had made her choice.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">He paused for a few moments to look with disdain around him at the glitzy soiree and then he walked away.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Claudia Creed watched silently as her one-time mentor departed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"Sven! Sven, please!" She cried after him.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">But he carried on walking and never looked back.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Tears rolled down Claudia's cheeks.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">She had given it all up for a marriage that had already died.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">For a moment Claudia Creed remembered the Hollywood actress Grace Kelly.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">She had given up her acting career to marry Prince Rainier III of Monaco in a fairy tale wedding. But she always regretted losing her career and pined for it for the rest of her brief life.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The unhappy parallel to her own life was not lost on her.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Several droplets of rain splashed onto her shoulder.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Claudia looked up at the darkening sky and it glared down at her like a petulant child.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">It was late Summer and Fall beckoned.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Claudia wiped away her tears and grabbed herself another glass of Krug from a passing waiter.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"Cheers!" She cried as she saluted her husband.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Nicholas Creed had watched the little scene between his wife and Sven Lindholm play out and thankfully none of the paparazzi had noticed it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">He could never understand why Claudia was always so miserable considering she had the kind of lifestyle that millions could only dream about.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">As far as he was concerned, his wife was needy and neurotic and he bitterly regretted marrying her in the first place.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Creed watched as Claudia helped herself to the complementary Krug.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">She was fluttering around the table of a Hollywood movie star.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Charlie Lloyd.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">He was tall and ruggedly handsome with blond hair and blue eyes and had made his name in big action movies.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Claudia Creed was gulping down the Krug and stroking Lloyd's hand as several camera's flashed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Nicholas Creed was watching his wife with dangerously slit eyes.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">She was out of control again.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Claudia caught her husband's reproachful stare and deliberately moved in close and whispered something in Charlie Lloyd's ear.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The actor smiled.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Nicholas Creed could barely contain his rage but with as much self control as he could muster he excused himself from the company of Miles Balfour to stride over to his wife.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">He had a fixed grin on his face as he put his hand under Claudia's arm and pulled her firmly back.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"Glad you could make it" Nicholas Creed declared through clenched teeth as he pulled his reluctant wife away.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"Why, thanks!" The Hollywood movie star called after them, displaying impossibly white teeth.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"Because I screwed your wife" Nicholas Creed added under his breath.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"Let me go!" Claudia cried.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"If you behave like a child I will treat you like a child"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">A loud clap of thunder announced the arrival of a torrential downpour which sent the party guests and media en masse to the marquees for cover.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Only Miles Balfour and a photographer watched Nicholas Creed from the mouth of a marquee as he frogmarched his errant wife towards the house.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"The happy couple" Jeff Ford, a photographer with <i>The Times</i> declared.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">But Balfour did not reply.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">He could tell something was badly wrong between his best friend and his wife and he tell by the obvious tension between them.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Balfour had been well aware of the deterioration of the Creed's marriage for some time now but had kept his own council.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Nicholas and Claudia Creed were just two very different people.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Creed was confidant and powerful while Claudia was sweet and charmingly self-effacing.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Miles Balfour had known Claudia from the first moment she had met his best friend and he couldn't understand what had attracted her to him apart from the obvious.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Creed was one of the most eligible men around and he could have his pick of any woman he wanted and he chose a Swiss actress of cerebral alternative cinema.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Perhaps they were just doomed from the start.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">And there was more ... but now wasn't the time to share it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Claudia turned momentarily and flashed Miles Balfour with a sad smile.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">And then she was gone and Balfour was left with the same old familiar ache in his heart.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Back inside the house, Nicholas Creed strode purposefully past concerned looking maids and servants with his struggling wife in tow.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"Please do not interrupt us!" Creed bellowed at them, and they scattered.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">They had experienced the explosive arguments between the couple on numerous occasions and knew when to make themselves scarce.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Many of those who worked for the Creed's were torn between both of them.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Nicholas Creed threw his wife roughly onto the bed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">They were in her plush en suite bedroom where everything was pink and gold.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"Who the <i>fuck</i> do you think you are?" Creed erupted.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"I'm having some fun! Is that allowed?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"You're drunk again! And at your own daughter's birthday party!" Nicholas Creed retorted with disgust.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Claudia Creed was fighting back the tears and struggling to control her emotions.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"You've made me like this!" She exclaimed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">She reached out to her husband but he brushed away her hand.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"Don't give me that crap! You ungrateful bitch!"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"I know I can't be like her ,,,"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"Not this shit again!"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Claudia Creed knew that she could never compete with her husband's mistress.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">This affair was much more serious than the others and she knew it and although she was no longer in love with her husband, it tore her heart out.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"You are obsessed with <i>her</i> .... "</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"Fucks sake, have you heard yourself?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"What does <i>she</i> have that I don't ....?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Nicholas Creed leaned in close so that his face was only inches away from hers.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"She's <i>everything </i>that you aren't" he said smoothly.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Then he headed for the door and paused.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"Just tidy yourself up you drunk bitch and don't embarrass yourself anymore!"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The door slammed behind him and Claudia let out an animal cry as she grabbed a perfume bottle from the elegant dresser and threw it at the door.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Then she dissolved into harsh sobs.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Outside the rain had subsided.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Veronique</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Monmarte, Paris.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Veronique Bibeau was the very picture of elegance as she paused at the mirror.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">She was beautiful with kittenish features, sparkling hazel eyes and glossy raven hair.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Today Veronique was dressed in a black halter neck Chanel dress and her raven hair was tucked beneath a vintage black Lily Dache hat.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Bibeau was often described as the French Jacqueline Onassis for her effortless style.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">She meticulously applied a slick of scarlet Dior lipstick and pouted at her reflection.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"Je pense que cela va faire" Veronique Bibeau sighed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">For a few moments she did not recognise the face that gazed back at her.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Bibeau had always been so poised and self assured but over the last eighteen months she had become needy and fragile.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Nicholas Creed had entered her life and completely shaken it up. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">They had met when Veronique interviewed him in Nice.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Creed was overseeing the opening of a new luxury five-star hotel and Bibeau was there among the press pack.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Veronique Bibeau was a already a French icon who radiated Gallic sophistication.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">She was graceful and articulate and when she spoke, everybody listened.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Bibeau could feel something happening between her and Nicholas Creed the moment they locked eyes.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">It was instant and incendiary.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Nicholas Creed was the famous British playboy hotel magnate who had been tamed by a Swiss actress.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">She was the celebrated French journalist and writer as famous for her beauty as she was for her books and articles.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Today she was dressed in a Givenchy Peplum Dress in Black and her raven hair was teased into a chignon.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">To all intents and purposes, Veronique Bibeau was one of France's leading journalists and authors.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">But she could easily have been Audrey Hepburn from <i>Breakfast At Tiffany's</i>.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"Le célèbre Nicholas" Veronique Bibeau smiled.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The rumbling press pack silenced and Nicholas Creed was unable to suppress a grin.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"La belle Veronique" Creed replied smoothly.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The celebrated French beauty with the pixie looks was still smiling at him.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"Don't believe everything you read about me" Creed added mischievously.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Veronique Bibeau winked at him.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The press pack erupted into amused laughter and excited banter.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Something had begun between Nicholas Creed and Veronique Bibeau.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">From then on, Creed ardently pursued the stunning French journalist but she wasn't going to make it easy for him because he was married and he had a reputation as a playboy.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">In the early days of their romance, Veronique Bibeau often retreated to the comfort of her villa in Southern Spain.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Her conscience troubled her over the involvement with a married man.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Veronique had been born into the wealthy Bibeau family who had made their money in the antique business.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">She had been bought up in the lap of luxury was doted upon by her parents Francois and Clémence.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">But a shadow had been cast across her otherwise idyllic childhood.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">It was an open secret that Francois Bibeau had taken a mistress and would continue and would remain with her until death parted them.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">When Veronique looked at Nicholas Creed she saw her father.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">He had the same sleek black hair and keen features and the same penetrating eyes and charisma.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">It might have been the French way, but Veronique hated the deception and the placid way in which her mother accepted her predicament.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">She had met the petite brunette who was her father's mistress on two occasions and on both those occasions she was nothing but friendly and engaging.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Manon Dupont had been one of her father's secretaries and was kept in a smart Parisian apartment and was happy to share Francois Bibeau.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Not once could Veronique Bibeau foresee that one day she would be in a similar predicament and sharing a married man.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">When Clémence Bibeau eventually died of liver cancer, Francois Bibeau married his long-time mistress.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">And she and Veronique fostered an understanding.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">These early experiences had made Veronique Bbeau determined never to allow a man treat her the same way that her father had treated her mother.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">In the early days of her romance with the swashbuckling Nicholas Creed, Veronique was duly reticent.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">But he was charming and always behaved like a gentleman towards her and she soon melted.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Like so many other women before her, Veronique Bibeau found Nicholas Creed irresistible.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Veronique Bibeau checked her watch.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">It was 3.05 pm.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The birthday party of lover's only daughter would be in full swing now.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">It was the event of the season and many notable guests from stage and screen, including multi-millionaire businessmen and minor royalty were expected to attend.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The world's media were also expected to descend upon the occasion to capture every moment.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">He would probably be milling about his notable guests at that moment and captivating them with his easy charm.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Veronique smiled when she thought of him.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguwcjj0H_cB269oLP0TLFyAyYXtIGuRT2mTZhWAJF6uior1EsANbXjA0aspHfeJsXv7m8ikqxjZzka-Av3lMOEn7soTOdXvJSVdDeu0_VpWT5gwzcZfwuqBibWCG8jebbsU9CcqfXZjs0/s1600/Rainy_Paris_by_deadst4r.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguwcjj0H_cB269oLP0TLFyAyYXtIGuRT2mTZhWAJF6uior1EsANbXjA0aspHfeJsXv7m8ikqxjZzka-Av3lMOEn7soTOdXvJSVdDeu0_VpWT5gwzcZfwuqBibWCG8jebbsU9CcqfXZjs0/s400/Rainy_Paris_by_deadst4r.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Rainy Paris (by deadst4r deviantart.com)</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The big swaggering Nicholas Creed who could fill an entire room with his personality.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">He had swept her off her feet and turned her world upside down.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">But Bibeau felt a pang of guilt when her thoughts turned to his wife and daughter.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The pretty little blonde haired child that Nicholas Creed was so proud of.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Veronique had never met Claudia Creed, but she knew her work.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">She believed her lover when he told his marriage was in trouble and that it had been for some time.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Bibeau and Creed had always been discreet and so far the media had been kept at bay but that couldn't last forever.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">They were two high profile people.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Veronique had always regarded herself as a feminist who believed in female solidarity and the affair with a married man felt like a betrayal of everything that she held true.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">She had always been monogamous and had never entered into a relationship with a married man.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Yet Veronique Bibeau was a romantic at heart and was unable to help herself.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">She was addicted to the man.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Nicholas Creed wasn't her intellectual equal but he had an animal magnetism that she found irresistible.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">He was handsome delectable and insatiable in bed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Nicholas Creed made Veronique Bibeau feel like a woman.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Even though she knew he was her part-time lover and the predicament wasn't a healthy one.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">She was desperately in love with him even though Nicholas Creed was her part-time lover and the predicament was not an enviable one.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Veronique Bibeau spent endless nights alone pining for her man and longing to be with him.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">She sat by her phone and willed it to ring just so she could hear his voice.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The thought of him sent a jolt of desire through her body like a bolt of lightening.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">In a couple of days they would be together again.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Veronique had been anxiously waiting for her lover to call her and had been counting away the minutes.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Time seemed to be crawling today.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">She stolen a few moments with her lover earlier that morning.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">He spoke in hushed tones and every word vibrated through.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"I love you. I want to be with you"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Nicholas Creed was only across the sea but he might as well have been a million miles away.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Veronique walked out onto the balcony of her opulent apartment in Mommarte.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">It was a beautiful afternoon in Paris.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">All she wanted to do was share it with the man she loved but once again he was out of reach.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"Il est mon destin" Veronique sighed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">She had always been so independent but for the first time in her life she was completely beholden to a man.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">And it frightened her.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Veronique knew that she couldn't keep her love affair secret for ever but for now she enjoyed the precious moments she was able to snatch with her man,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Her phone began to ring and she fairly ran to answer it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The unmistakable voice of her lover filled her ears.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"Darling, it's me" Nicholas Creed cried, but there was a note of desperation in his resonant voice.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"My love, how are you?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"This is a goddamn nightmare. Claudia is out of control"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"What's wrong?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"The bitch is drunk again and making a fool out of herself and of me"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Veronique paused.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Creed had told her about his wife's alcohol addiction and she felt guilty, as if she had somehow driven her to it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">But Claudia Creed had been unhappy for some time and had turned to the bottle to ease her misery.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Nicholas Creed neglected his wife and treated her with disdain.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">She had failed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">It never occurred to Veronique Bibeau that her lover might treat her the same way.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"Oh mon Dieu! That's terrible ..." Bibeau finally replied.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"I wish you were here ... I can't do this without you"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"Soon we will be together"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The sense of expectancy had given away to urgency.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"I have to be with you" Nicholas Creed informed his lover.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">And suddenly she yearned for him to be inside her.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"I know mon amour ...."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"Wait for me"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">And with that the phone clicked off and Veronique Bibeau was alone once more.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"Vous avez à être forte" She told herself.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">But only silence responded.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The old ache was there again.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Tears filled Veronique's eyes.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">She was seeing a man who belonged somewhere else.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">She was betraying a woman who given up her promising acting career to be with him.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">And yet she couldn't help herself.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Veronique Bibeau was deeply in love with Nicholas Creed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Yasmine the silky black cat emerged from the shadows and purred as she brushed against Bibeau's legs.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"Ah, mon petit" Veronique sighed as she stroked the cat affectionately.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">At the door she paused by the little shrine with its image of the Madonna and child and two candles.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Her mother had been a devout Catholic and Veronique was a believer even if she found religion oppressive.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">She said a little prayer for herself.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">And with Claudia Creed and her daughter not far from her thoughts, she said a little prayer for them too.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Veronique crossed herself.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The sky had already darkened considerably by the time she stepped outside.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">It was a good day to be alive.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Just then a familiar voice called out to her.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"Hey salope!"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Veronique could not help suppressing a smile as she took off her black Dior sunglasses and slowly turned around.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">It was her best friend and soulmate, Mimi Durand.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"Did you miss me, bitch?" Durand demanded.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Suddenly all Veronique's troubles had evaporated in the presence of the leggy supermodel.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Mimi Durand was here.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">She was tall and striking with flashing green eyes and an unruly mane of dark brown tresses.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Durand was the former street kid who had risen to become one of the most sought after supermodel's in the world.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Several passerby stopped or did a double take as two French icons greeted each other in their midst.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"Why don't you take a picture, it will last longer!" Mimi Durand informed them dryly.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Veronique shook her head.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"You're outrageous"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"I'm Mimi, baby"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The two women dissolved into a hug.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">And as her closet living friend held her close, Veronique Bibeau suddenly burst into tears.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">A curious couple had stopped to stare at them.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"Get lost!" Mimi Durand shouted at them.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"I'm okay" Veronique Bibeau said shakily.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"Il est pas la peine!"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"But I love him ... "</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Mimi Durand let out a long sigh.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"Fucking men!"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">They were all the same.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Durand could see how distraught Veronique was.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">A loud clap of thunder rolled across the horizon.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"Come on, tell Mimi all about it" she added with a wry smile.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">And with that she took her hand and led her in the direction of the nearest cafe'.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"All men are bastards!" Mimi Durand sighed. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">It was raining hard by the time the two beautiful women entered Café des Deux Moulins.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_CmnF56nJuMFwEH06JLLVX7lrP9eg6aF7O9GryyTvm9D0gVgHvxhhYSpQLhShXOOg3HhTpsdzYjxUcNh-PLPKjVDIiYaZ69eYY5tPdx_WFgMEgP7fy_oqskRjgWLXLDv4iV5f-EbXGdc/s1600/My+Rainy+Roads+by+by+Nile-Paparazz.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_CmnF56nJuMFwEH06JLLVX7lrP9eg6aF7O9GryyTvm9D0gVgHvxhhYSpQLhShXOOg3HhTpsdzYjxUcNh-PLPKjVDIiYaZ69eYY5tPdx_WFgMEgP7fy_oqskRjgWLXLDv4iV5f-EbXGdc/s640/My+Rainy+Roads+by+by+Nile-Paparazz.jpg" width="490" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">My Rainy Roads (by by Nile-Paparazz deviantart.com)</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> </span><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/JaCZfgKHi68" width="560"></iframe></div>
Alex Karashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05398068721281907129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7825899785840631460.post-42988001984099397942015-05-26T06:49:00.001-07:002015-06-02T15:48:24.115-07:00The Hôtel du Louvre<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOacwoHg0II_FdXNEa_Woj09umlTU__4ZrPwL6NZMmnKRo4ToR7_Ixs997KglEbLLavhEhOp9S7sqgVOmjZPzIZW0nvLyUxsXevh27zZOByH2ekAE2jmUEEYbPgmraUubHpTmBuhsvuWA/s1600/Hotel+du+Louvre+pinterest.com+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOacwoHg0II_FdXNEa_Woj09umlTU__4ZrPwL6NZMmnKRo4ToR7_Ixs997KglEbLLavhEhOp9S7sqgVOmjZPzIZW0nvLyUxsXevh27zZOByH2ekAE2jmUEEYbPgmraUubHpTmBuhsvuWA/s1600/Hotel+du+Louvre+pinterest.com+2.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hotel du Louvre (pinterest.com) </td></tr>
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<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">The Heartbreak Hotel</span><br />
<br />
The Hôtel du Louvre.<br />
<br />
The very epitome of Parisian elegance.<br />
<br />
A five star-hotel which featuring 177 guest rooms, including 43 Suites, each one with its own distinct style. Most of the rooms overlook the Louvre Museum, the Comédie Française Theatre or the Avenue de l’Opéra, others face the tranquility of the inside courtyard.<br />
<br />
Built in 1855, the hotel was situated in the heart of Paris between the Louvre Museum and the Opéra Garnier and the Palais Royal. Place Vendôme, Place de la Concorde, the Marais neighborhood, the Tuileries Garden, the major department stores and Notre-Dame Cathedral were within walking distance.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The Lobby </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">The fans were talking animatedly among themselves as the small crowd that had gathered in the lobby gradually began to disperse. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
There was a collective sigh still hanging in the air as they departed leaving behind a pretty wide eyed nineteen-year-old still rooted to the spot.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">Eloise Aube was in a trance. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ten minutes had passed </span></span>since the supermodel had made her entrance with her burly bodyguards and entourage amid a blaze of flashing camera's and paparazzi all jostling for her attention.<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">She had been carried upon a wave of appreciation like a precious pearl as fans gathered in the lobby to chant her name and to call out terms of endearment. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">Even the hotel staff who were not unused to the sight of film stars, models and royalty were momentarily transfixed by the French icon.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">Mimi Durand.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">The beautiful and spirited supermodel with a trademark mane of unruly dark brown hair and glittering emerald green eyes. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">The <i>enfant terrible</i> of the fashion world. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">She had stepped out of their posters and the pages of their fashion magazines to grace them with her undeniable presence.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">For several brief moments the world</span></span> had stopped turning.<br />
<br />
And time had converged.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">Mimi Durand had arrived. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">"Merci!M</span></span>erci beaucoup!" She cried, sending her audience into near hysteria.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">That was ten minutes ago. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">And it was back to life as usual. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">"The shows over" Gus the porter sighed "Retour à la vie réelle"</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">But Eloise Aube did not register his words nor did she notice</span></span> the young photographer beside her who was still fiddling with his camera.<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">"Fichu!" Twenty-three-year-old </span></span><span style="font-size: small;">Alphonse </span>Bernard snarled "I missed a great shot! The money shot!"<br />
<br />
But the teenage girl beside him was lost in her reverie as she replayed the scene over and over in her mind.<br />
<br />
For a few shining moments the Mimi Durand had locked eyes with her.<br />
<br />
She had deigned to acknowledge a mere mortal.<br />
<br />
Durand was dressed in a cream satin Prada trouser suit and the sun shone in her unruly mane of long dark brown hair.<br />
<br />
Her face glowed and her green eyes sparkled like emeralds.<br />
<br />
Mimi Durand looked like an angel.<br />
<br />
Eloise Aube's eyes widened and her heart beat so fast she thought it would burst out of her chest.<br />
<br />
Her idol had chosen her.<br />
<br />
Everyone else in the lobby evaporated.<br />
<br />
They did not not matter anymore.<br />
<br />
Mimi Durand smiled at Eloise Aube.<br />
<br />
She held her gaze for the barest moments.<br />
<br />
But to Eloise it seemed to last forever.<br />
<br />
And then she was gone.<br />
<br />
The supermodel disappeared into the lift with her bodyguards and entourage and was gone.<br />
<br />
Carried away on a wave of appreciation.<br />
<br />
Back to the Elysian Fields.<br />
<br />
The cameras ceased flashing.<br />
<br />
As the sun vanished behind the clouds. <br />
<br />
The golden carriage melted back into a pumpkin again.<br />
<br />
Life reverted to its former ways. <br />
<br />
"I give up!" Alphonse Bernard exclaimed with indignation."Quelle occasion ratée!"<br />
<br />
He resisted the temptation to throw his camera on the floor and stamp on it but instead he slumped into a chair. <br />
<br />
"Merde!" Benard snarled. <br />
<br />
Alphonse Bernard was tall and good looking with bushy brown hair and large blue-green eyes.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrhokNwCTJkVfxDo6DAe0ZQ0eVbP8vJWQKgbx8nJ59qEB79hAi77RLSU2nRjJQmUq58ehtSK4ql5fkJsZhHOkD9twe7_KOYIZ3cf9FQtiKStigXhNoNhyqxrEvzmandsSTiVT6Eg13_d4/s1600/%2528www.parisinsidersguide.com%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrhokNwCTJkVfxDo6DAe0ZQ0eVbP8vJWQKgbx8nJ59qEB79hAi77RLSU2nRjJQmUq58ehtSK4ql5fkJsZhHOkD9twe7_KOYIZ3cf9FQtiKStigXhNoNhyqxrEvzmandsSTiVT6Eg13_d4/s400/%2528www.parisinsidersguide.com%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(www.parisinsidersguide.com)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
His father was a painter and his mother worked in a bank.<br />
<br />
He had only been working at L'Express for two months and he was still finding his way.<br />
<br />
This was his first big assignment and he hadn't been able to get his new camera to work. <br />
<br />
"C'est la vie" he said with a snort. <br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">But Eloise Aube didn't hear him.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: small;">She was in another place. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Eloise </span>was a promising student with a head full of dreams at the Centre de Dance du Marais in Paris. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Today fortune had smiled at her a</span><span style="font-size: small;">nd she was no longer standing in the foyer of the grand </span>Hôtel du Louvre.<br />
<br />
She was sunning herself on a yacht in St Tropez in a white Versace bikini and large black Dior shades.<br />
<br />
Her long chestnut hair was loose about her bronzed shoulders and her large red lips pouted up at the clear blue sky.<br />
<br />
Eloise contemplated dinner that evening at the Hotel Byblos and a night of dancing with her man.<br />
<br />
He looked down admiringly at her.<br />
<br />
She took off her sunglasses and smiled.<br />
<br />
Alain Delon.<br />
<br />
He was waiting for her. <br />
<br />
Now she was standing on the red carpet with her arm in his.<br />
<br />
Cameras were flashing everywhere.<br />
<br />
Eloise Aube was dressed in a black Chanel evening gown with a plunging neckline and hair piled high on her pretty head.<br />
<br />
Alain Delon was charming the reporters with his <i>savoir faire</i>.<br />
<br />
"Je suis l' homme le plus chanceux en vie!" He cried, and the audience erupted into applause. <br />
<br />
They walked into the Chinese Theater hand-in-hand together and melted into a golden light. <br />
<br />
Eloise Aube lived on the outskirts of Paris with her Italian mother Marisa in a modest apartment.<br />
<br />
She was pretty with long chestnut hair and large blue eyes.<br />
<br />
Eloise was a die-hard romantic and had seen <i>Roman Holiday</i> with Audrey Hepburn, twenty-five times and she always carried a copy of<i> Le Petit Prince </i>in her bag.<br />
<br />
She had cut a picture of the actor Gregory Peck out of a magazine and pinned it to her bedroom wall and she kept a small photo of French actor Alain Delon under her pillow.<br />
<br />
She had barely known her father who had walked out on them when she was four and a half.<br />
<br />
Patric Aube was an antique dealer.<br />
<br />
He had remarried and lived in Orange with his Greek wife Melissa and ten-year-old son Rocco. <br />
<br />
Every month he sent Marisa Aube a big cheque. <br />
<br />
The lack of a father had bought mother and daughter closer together and they were more like sisters and best friends. <br />
<br />
Eloise Aube had dreams of dancing with the Rambert Dance Company in London and of touring the world.<br />
<br />
There was so much world to see.<br />
<br />
And Eloise was going to dance right through it.<br />
<br />
She saw herself captivating the audience with her stunning performances. <br />
<br />
Dancing with a grace to rival Pavlova.<br />
<br />
And then bowing to the sound of rapturous applause and a standing ovation.<br />
<br />
"Eloise! Eloise! Eloise!"<br />
<br />
They threw red roses onto the stage.<br />
<br />
"On t'aime! On t'aime!"<br />
<br />
As she blew kisses to them.<br />
<br />
"Eloise! Eloise! Eloise!"<br />
<br />
Then the glittering world suddenly evaporated. <br />
<br />
Her mother was calling her.<br />
<br />
"Eloise!"<br />
<br />
And suddenly she was back in the modest little apartment on the outskirts of Paris again.<br />
<br />
Eloise set down the potato she was peeling and rushed into the living area.<br />
<br />
Her mother was lying flaccidly on the French antique Louis sofa.<br />
<br />
Marisa Aube was pleading silently to her daughter with her eyes and she gestured weakly to her with her hand.<br />
<br />
Her mug was lying on the floor where she had dropped it.<br />
<br />
It was broken into several pieces and a large pool of black coffee was spreading through the white shag pile rug.<br />
<br />
Marisa Aube looked up helplessly at her daughter.<br />
<br />
And suddenly Eloise fought the urge to cry.<br />
<br />
Her mother looked so fragile.<br />
<br />
Sometimes Marisa Aube was so exhausted that she didn't have the strength to even complete a sentence. <br />
<br />
Even though the doctor said she was improving it was an uphill battle.<br />
<br />
"Sa mère correct" Eloise said with as much verve as she could muster.<br />
<br />
She quickly retrieved the broken pieces of the mug and raced into the kitchen to find the dish cloth.<br />
<br />
Eloise pretended not to hear her mother sob.<br />
<br />
She waited by the sink.<br />
<br />
The despair and frustration had its own pattern.<br />
<br />
Marisa Aube had become an invalid at just fifty-five and she hated it.<br />
<br />
But she was surfacing again.<br />
<br />
The sobbing ceased and Eloise entered the room and pretended nothing had happened.<br />
<br />
She was determined to see her mother recover.<br />
<br />
Dreams of a glittering dance career spurred her on.<br />
<br />
She practiced in her room late at night and watched dance shows and Hollywood musicals.<br />
<br />
Eloise scoured the fashion magazines and cut out pictures of beautiful supermodels and stunning designer outfits and filled her scrap books.<br />
<br />
Her icon was Mimi Durand.<br />
<br />
She was everything that Eloise wanted to be.<br />
<br />
Captivating and sassy.<br />
<br />
Eloise cleaned up the stain and adjusted the blanket around her mother. <br />
<br />
"I am a burden to you" Marisa Aube said plaintively. <br />
<br />
"Ce n'est rien" Eloise replied "It's nothing"<br />
<br />
"What would I do without you?" Marisa cried "Tu es mon ange"<br />
<br />
Eloise smiled.<br />
<br />
Marisa kissed her daughter on the forehead.<br />
<br />
They hugged in the quiet apartment.<br />
<br />
Marisa Aube had been suffering from ME for five years.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt9Bv5oXgVkPU3MxUFnoz2YyLRb8bIietwwEHZzKHO56xnfpLdUcq5EcWn2CpGDvVsnk3rNQSLb6ELU7DZHwAvaftUFStWsfBuwZyJXqhcRp-bMg7hK7FmZXW21tdyngols-L49QHv9K4/s1600/Hotel-Louvre-Rivoli-Lobby-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt9Bv5oXgVkPU3MxUFnoz2YyLRb8bIietwwEHZzKHO56xnfpLdUcq5EcWn2CpGDvVsnk3rNQSLb6ELU7DZHwAvaftUFStWsfBuwZyJXqhcRp-bMg7hK7FmZXW21tdyngols-L49QHv9K4/s400/Hotel-Louvre-Rivoli-Lobby-3.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hotel Louvre Rivoli Lobby </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
She had good and bad days.<br />
<br />
Sometimes she felt restored and other times she felt so depleted that she could barely drag herself out of bed. <br />
<br />
But gradually she was getting better.<br />
<br />
There were numerous pictures of Marisa in her dancing days on the wall.<br />
<br />
She had once been a successful prima ballerina and had danced with the Paris Opéra Ballet.<br />
<br />
Suddenly it seemed an age ago and in the early days of her illness the remembrance was like a dagger to her heart as she wondered if she would ever recover.<br />
<br />
So Marisa poured all her hopes and aspirations into her daughter.<br />
<br />
It was Marisa who instilled a love of dance in her daughter and it was Marisa who supported her and who drove her on.<br />
<br />
"Always remember that you are somebody" she would tell Eloise "and one day the world will know it. Je crois en toi"<br />
<br />
It was Marisa who was her daughters biggest cheerleader.<br />
<br />
She would rather starve than deny her.<br />
<br />
And in her dreams Marisa was always in the audience.<br />
<br />
She was fully restored with a face glowing with pride.<br />
<br />
"I owe <i>everything</i> to my mother" Eloise informed the worlds media at a press conference "Elle est mon ange"<br />
<br />
They erupted into applause.<br />
<br />
Marisa was weeping with pride beside her.<br />
<br />
And Eloise was back in the foyer of the Hôtel du Louvre.<br />
<br />
"I am going to do this!" She cried.<br />
<br />
Eloise was fired up with a fresh determination.<br />
<br />
She would attain her goal and the world would remember her name.<br />
<br />
And her mother would recover.<br />
<br />
And she would always remember the day Mimi Durand acknowledged her in the grand foyer of the Hôtel du Louvre.<br />
<br />
She would always remember that unmistakable smile.<br />
<br />
"Hey?" Alphonse Bernard cried out to her "You okay?"<br />
<br />
Eloise Aube slowly turned to him.<br />
<br />
"Je suis désolé" she replied "I was dreaming"<br />
<br />
"You sure you're okay?"<br />
<br />
"Oui. Everything is going to be okay now"<br />
<br />
"You look a little lonely to me" Alphonse Bernard said with a wry smile "want to join me for a coffee? Je ne mords pas!"<br />
<br />
Eloise Aube laughed.<br />
<br />
And it was the first time she had laughed in days.<br />
<br />
"Oui" Eloise answered "I'd like that very much"<br />
<br />
The young couple walked out of the hotel together.<br />
<br />
Eloise Aube felt hopeful invigorated.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7XPcDmFTX2Te5C5Df7D1or1Z6toNT6XQkiy-9NCDstkrlwmiZYEaIjRaQ7TeJvrz41P3mh5FKa3YVIehbfBdTq1shzC6p5mjpTMri36tX7E2t_7sNq8NDDP81-w_Z5BE_zgdpcFo4Prc/s1600/Hotel+du+Louvre+www.penseebycaro.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7XPcDmFTX2Te5C5Df7D1or1Z6toNT6XQkiy-9NCDstkrlwmiZYEaIjRaQ7TeJvrz41P3mh5FKa3YVIehbfBdTq1shzC6p5mjpTMri36tX7E2t_7sNq8NDDP81-w_Z5BE_zgdpcFo4Prc/s400/Hotel+du+Louvre+www.penseebycaro.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hotel du Louvre (www.penseebycaro)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Alphonse Bernard wasn't exactly Alain Delon but he was charming and good looking.<br />
<br />
And he made her laugh.<br />
<br />
It was a good day to be alive.<br />
<br />
It was the first day of the rest of her life.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Room 56</span><br />
<br />
Ken Dunn attempted to drink a glass of whiskey but his hand was shaking so much that he almost dropped the glass.<br />
<br />
Beads of sweat had formed at his brow.<br />
<br />
Dark thoughts raced through his addled brain like rats scurrying through a dank tunnel.<br />
<br />
His stomach was churning and his teeth were clenched.<br />
<br />
Ken Dunn was like a caged man.<br />
<br />
The plush room had long since lost its allure.<br />
<br />
It was like a prison.<br />
<br />
And Ken Dunn was a prisoner of his own mind.<br />
<br />
Blue Diamond Tyre's and Motors in Harlow, Essex.<br />
<br />
The proprietor was sitting beside his assistant manager Mick Brown in the office.<br />
<br />
Ken Dunn was forty-five.<br />
<br />
He was tall and good looking with slick blond hair and keen grey eyes.<br />
<br />
Dunn had trained to become a professional footballer but a serious knee injury put paid to that dream.<br />
<br />
He was twenty-eight when he got into the motor business and by the time he was in the late thirties he was trading vintage cars to millionaires from all over the world.<br />
<br />
Today Ken Dunn was interviewing for a new secretary with his right-hand man.<br />
<br />
Mick Brown had known Dunn since school days and the two were so inseparable that they were said to be as "thick as thieves".<br />
<br />
Brown resembled Dunn in looks and the two were frequently mistaken for brothers.<br />
<br />
Mick Brown could always tell what his best friend was thinking.<br />
<br />
They were like Siamese twins.<br />
<br />
It had been a long day at the office and Dunn and Brown had already auditioned twelve girls with varying degrees of success.<br />
<br />
The last one was late and they had all but given up.<br />
<br />
Mick Brown checked his watch and shrugged.<br />
<br />
They were just about to get up when the girl suddenly rushed in all hot and flustered.<br />
<br />
"I'm sorry I'm late!" She cried breathless "Traffic!"<br />
<br />
Ken Dunn smiled.<br />
<br />
He liked her.<br />
<br />
The girl was small with blonde hair and wide blue-eyes behind large frame glasses.<br />
<br />
She wasn't particularly attractive in a grey twin-set and black pencil skirt but there was an innocence about her.<br />
<br />
Ken Dunn smiled as he checked her name at the bottom of the list.<br />
<br />
Fiona.<br />
<br />
Fiona Skinner.<br />
<br />
And she looked very young.<br />
<br />
"How old are you, darlin" Ken Dunn asked her.<br />
<br />
"I'm nineteen" she answered shakily "I hope that won't be a problem ..."<br />
<br />
The last secretary had been in her fifties and had been dedicated and dependable.<br />
<br />
Ken preferred somebody with a little life experience as well as work experience.<br />
<br />
She was a plain Jane and would probably learn fast. <br />
<br />
Mick Brown had misgivings he could tell there was no use in turning the her away.<br />
<br />
And she was clearly a hit with the main man.<br />
<br />
"I like her" Ken Dunn whispered.<br />
<br />
Brown shrugged.<br />
<br />
"Tell us a little bit about yourself" Dunn asked her.<br />
<br />
The girl took a seat and began to tell her story in a tremulous little voice.<br />
<br />
"My name is Fiona and I live with my dad in Clapham ... I lost my mom at three to cancer ...my first job was working in the office at Ridley's Estate Agents while I studied business and accounting ... "<br />
<br />
Ken Dunn and Mick Brown listened intently.<br />
<br />
By the time she finished, Dunn was convinced that they had found their secretary.<br />
<br />
She was looking at both of them expectantly.<br />
<br />
Without deliberating with his associate, Ken Dunn gave Fiona Skinner the job.<br />
<br />
Mick Brown was annoyed but resigned to the inevitable.<br />
<br />
They had been interviewing unimpressive prospective secretaries all day but at least Fiona Skinner had an old school humility about her.<br />
<br />
"You can start on Monday" he informed her with a smile.<br />
<br />
Fiona was beaming.<br />
<br />
"Thank you sir, thank you"<br />
<br />
She shook both the men's hands before fairly skipping out of the office.<br />
<br />
Ken triumphantly sat back in his chair.<br />
<br />
The new girl wasn't much of a looker but she could probably do the job and she had a gentle disposition.<br />
<br />
Mick Brown thought she was too good to be true.<br />
<br />
"She's a mouse!" He snorted.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV7P5fT9eguP8_nLWTNVzZ3x7FMBbPlLVn9FBS_WQ3VevS64j8MJwSr7llRLLZLNpbicmCoFadWq7RE16HEQlRlolh6Ud0RlHhcNWbituZMrV58bd3OX2oEbf0eeQPRmwBFwGbB2KDiUM/s1600/Hotel+s.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV7P5fT9eguP8_nLWTNVzZ3x7FMBbPlLVn9FBS_WQ3VevS64j8MJwSr7llRLLZLNpbicmCoFadWq7RE16HEQlRlolh6Ud0RlHhcNWbituZMrV58bd3OX2oEbf0eeQPRmwBFwGbB2KDiUM/s400/Hotel+s.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Ken Dunn smiled.<br />
<br />
"She'll do very nicely"<br />
<br />
In the weeks to come Fiona Skinner showed herself to be an apt pupil.<br />
<br />
She learnt quickly and was efficient at her tasks.<br />
<br />
Ken Dunn was mightily impressed<br />
<br />
"I told you she was good" Dunn informed Mick Brown as they observed her through the glass office.<br />
<br />
"I'll take your word for it"<br />
<br />
Mick Brown had not been so easily swayed by Fiona Skinner.<br />
<br />
<br />
He could smell a rat.<br />
<br />
But he didn't want to rock the boat.<br />
<br />
Instead he watched Skinner like a hawk and made a mental note of all her shortcomings.<br />
<br />
One day he caught her at the old photocopying machine.<br />
<br />
She was clearly frustrated and kicking it aggressively with her foot.<br />
<br />
Fiona was swearing like a sailor.<br />
<br />
So much for the little mouse.<br />
<br />
"Come on you bastard!" Fiona Skinner snarled.<br />
<br />
"You 'aint gonna make it work like that" Mick Brown informed her.<br />
<br />
Fiona stopped and slowly turned to him.<br />
<br />
She hated Mick Brown.<br />
<br />
"Maybe you can show me how to use it again" she said in her little-girl voice.<br />
<br />
Brown managed a smile.<br />
<br />
Fiona Skinner had quickly made herself indispensable.<br />
<br />
She was shoulder to cry on when Dunn's marriage began to fall apart.<br />
<br />
But sometimes Fiona's "fragility" worried Ken Dunn.<br />
<br />
He felt protective and when he found her sobbing silently in the office one morning he was very concerned.<br />
<br />
"It's Mick" she said with big tragic eyes.<br />
<br />
"What about him?"<br />
<br />
"He hates me and makes it clear every day I am here"<br />
<br />
"I'm sure he <i>does</i> like you. You just need to get to know him, that's all"<br />
<br />
Fiona reached out and touched his hand.<br />
<br />
"I don't think I can work here much longer. I can't work with Mick's hatred any longer"<br />
<br />
Ken Dunn patted the girls hand.<br />
<br />
She looked so vulnerable.<br />
<br />
"I'll sort it"<br />
<br />
Within a week Mick Brown had been moved to another office in South-East London.<br />
<br />
A long-time friendship counted for nothing in the face of a fawning young girl.<br />
<br />
"I only hope you don't live to regret it" Mick Brown informed Ken Dunn.<br />
<br />
Nothing he said made any difference.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibgBUDeeOXEdbKhZZJzEugAX3MXX7kcsfcb1fe376YoqrYvG3hhuHcmK9DW9B0m-OH0i65XaFfViNEONoEpf8sisi2xq-Yx67mJvBohZsZUijUzgtJbUEm77j5hsMzAKsPQzN17VOMzlw/s1600/Louvre+Museum+www.tripadvisor.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibgBUDeeOXEdbKhZZJzEugAX3MXX7kcsfcb1fe376YoqrYvG3hhuHcmK9DW9B0m-OH0i65XaFfViNEONoEpf8sisi2xq-Yx67mJvBohZsZUijUzgtJbUEm77j5hsMzAKsPQzN17VOMzlw/s400/Louvre+Museum+www.tripadvisor.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">Louvre Museum (www.tripadvisor)</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
It was clear that Dunn was besotted with Fiona and he couldn't comprehend why.<br />
<br />
She was hardly attractive and wore dowdy clothes most of the time.<br />
<br />
Her blonde hair was always scraped back and her large glasses were always perched on the end of her nose like Miss Marple.<br />
<br />
She was too good to be true.<br />
<br />
"So that's the little bitch" Leanne Dunn remarked as she and Mick Brown observed Fiona and Ken at a glittering function in Chelsea.<br />
<br />
Fiona was wearing floral print dress from Marks and Spencer and New Look heels and her blonde hair was loose about her thin shoulders.<br />
<br />
Tonight she had foregone her large glasses but she still looked dumpy and drab.<br />
<br />
"Don't get what he sees in her" Mick Brown retorted.<br />
<br />
Ken Brown was making a fuss of Fiona as he showed her off to his business partners.<br />
<br />
Leanne eyed her with dangerously slit eyes.<br />
<br />
She couldn't dress for shit.<br />
<br />
And she was fawning and capricious.<br />
<br />
Fluttering her eyes lashes and playing the little-girl-lost.<br />
<br />
Leanne could tell Ken was still distracted when he eventually joined them.<br />
<br />
"So that's the new one" she said.<br />
<br />
There was a note of antipathy in her voice but Dunn never picked up on it.<br />
<br />
He was too busy ogling at Fiona's ass.<br />
<br />
"Yeah, she's the new girl" Dunn answered her finally.<br />
<br />
He was undressing her with his eyes.<br />
<br />
Suddenly Fiona Skinner wasn't Plain Jane but Madonna.<br />
<br />
And Leanne knew it.<br />
<br />
She'd seen that hungry look in her husband's eyes enough before.<br />
<br />
Particularly with the slappers at these functions<br />
<br />
Little tarts with nothing between the ears.<br />
<br />
Her husband had wandering hands and there'd been countless affairs with past secretaries and the wives of clients.<br />
<br />
"Bitch" Leanne snarled under her breath as she took another drag from her cigarette.<br />
<br />
Her husband had trouble keeping it in his pants but she could tell this little whore was different.<br />
<br />
She was clever.<br />
<br />
Leanne had never seen Ken so tongue-tied.<br />
<br />
He was like a little school boy again.<br />
<br />
All for some cheap little tart.<br />
<br />
Fiona Skinner gave them a little wave.<br />
<br />
Ken Dunn was grinning from ear to ear.<br />
<br />
He never saw the tears fill his Leanne's eyes.<br />
<br />
Or the appalled expression on Mick Brown's face.<br />
<br />
"Bastard" Leanne sneered.<br />
<br />
There was no point in going any further.<br />
<br />
Leanne stubbed out her cigarette and slowly rose from her seat.<br />
<br />
Her husband barely registered.<br />
<br />
"Bye, Ken" she said.<br />
<br />
He didn't even notice when she and Mick Brown slipped out of the venue.<br />
<br />
Six months later Leanne walked out of their luxury Docklands apartment.<br />
<br />
Eventually she relocated to Spain with a younger man and Fiona relocated to Ken Dunn's bed.<br />
<br />
Mick Brown watched as Fiona gradually metamorphosed into the matriarch Blue Diamond Motors and Ken was only too eager to hand over the reins.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglt6r1WwhLPl4dBLxPW-Fo21u5NbT7lOBWl5VviOxWArJhN3EGODP76RRUXcazPnMQx6yCCoay6Q01AQL38CLrLpKAcvVLQRJYSZ7JXDKzBCt60PwwfN3s6gP6CkQmPt-C5J4J_b5ch3Q/s1600/Opera.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglt6r1WwhLPl4dBLxPW-Fo21u5NbT7lOBWl5VviOxWArJhN3EGODP76RRUXcazPnMQx6yCCoay6Q01AQL38CLrLpKAcvVLQRJYSZ7JXDKzBCt60PwwfN3s6gP6CkQmPt-C5J4J_b5ch3Q/s400/Opera.png" width="397" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Opera Garnier (binaporcher.blogspot)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
She wanted it all.<br />
<br />
Including a wedding ceremony in the Bahamas and a cruise of the Eastern Mediterranean for the honeymoon. <br />
<br />
A luxury apartment in Mayfair and a holiday villa in Maguluf and limitless credit card for use in Knightsbridge.<br />
<br />
Chanel, Chloe,Versace, Prada and Azzedine Alaia outfits crowded the walk-in wardrobes while an entire room was dedicated to Jimmy Choo heels.<br />
<br />
Thirteen-years later and Ken Dunn had booked them seven day stay at the luxurious five-star Hôtel du Louvre<br />
<br />
He needed a break.<br />
<br />
Over the last ten years he had been working non-stop to keep his head above water and to keep the wolf away from the door.<br />
<br />
Ken Dunn was in serious debt and he could either sink or swim.<br />
<br />
Fiona Dunn had been sulking all the way from Heathrow Airport.<br />
<br />
She would have preferred a trip to Antigua and she never let Ken forget it.<br />
<br />
"I hate France and I hate the French!" Fiona railed as she stared blankly out of the small airplane window.<br />
<br />
Ken glanced at her through the corner of his eye.<br />
<br />
She was even thinner than ever.<br />
<br />
The veins stuck on her neck when she got excited and her blue eyes bulged.<br />
<br />
Fiona had never been beautiful how ever many expensive treatments she had or however many luxury spas she visited.<br />
<br />
Plain Jane had long since gone and been replaced by an sharp eyed vampire sucking off the blood of Ken Dunn.<br />
<br />
"Sometimes I wonder why I married you!" Fiona snapped.<br />
<br />
She was glaring at her.<br />
<br />
Her bleached blonde hair made her pale face look even thinner.<br />
<br />
She never had anything positive to say and she was always complaining and nagging him.<br />
<br />
Ken Dunn was too tired to care. <br />
<br />
All the life had been sapped from his bones.<br />
<br />
This was going to be another excursion spent in hell with Fiona Dunn.<br />
<br />
"You're such a boring bastard" Fiona added with a snort "I wish I'd listened to my dad. He always said you weren't good enough for me"<br />
<br />
The words stung Ken and hung in the air.<br />
<br />
"You're not even a gentleman. If you cared about me we'd be on a flight to Antigua now"<br />
<br />
Ken closed his eyes.<br />
<br />
"But no. Kenny gets what Kenny wants and screw what anyone else wants"<br />
<br />
All he wanted was for the express train of life to stop so he could get off.<br />
<br />
His loveless, childless marriage was dust.<br />
<br />
And now he had this devil on his shoulder forever crying after him.<br />
<br />
Fiona Dunn.<br />
<br />
Grasping and manipulative.<br />
<br />
She alienated Ken from all his friends including Mick Brown.<br />
<br />
One by one they departed.<br />
<br />
"She'll be the death of you" Brown said before walking away.<br />
<br />
Eventually she exhausted herself and fell asleep as Ken Dunn contemplated the miserable days ahead.<br />
<br />
He suddenly realised that he couldn't take it anymore.<br />
<br />
For the first day of their trip to Paris, Fiona insisted on going shopping.<br />
<br />
By the time they returned Ken bitterly regretted insisting on holidaying in France.<br />
<br />
"Did you see how that man kept looking at me?" Fiona exclaimed as she threw her bags onto the floor. "Fucking French perverts! They only have one thing on their minds!"<br />
<br />
Ken Dunn lay on the bed.<br />
<br />
He could sense a migraine coming on.<br />
<br />
"Guess I'll be going to dinner alone tonight!" Fiona snapped.<br />
<br />
"Sorry, love. I don't feel right"<br />
<br />
"You just bloody lie there. Don't worry about me!"<br />
<br />
An hour later the door slammed shut and Ken Dunn stirred on the bed.<br />
<br />
He had a nightmare that he was trapped in a hotel room with his wife and then he awoke to find that it was true.<br />
<br />
Two hours later and Fiona Dunn flounced back.<br />
<br />
She was wearing a black figure hugging backless Chanel dress which made her spine stick out.<br />
<br />
Fiona looked like a crow.<br />
<br />
"I saw that model"<br />
<br />
"Which one?"<br />
<br />
"The bloody model that's staying here, you idiot. She's nothing special"<br />
<br />
"She's called Mimi"<br />
<br />
"Mimi?" Fiona snorted. "What kind of a bloody name is that?"<br />
<br />
"She's stunning!"<br />
<br />
"She's<i> nothing</i> special" Fiona reiterated nastily "And she sounds like a fucking dog!"<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjevB9pVWTH3ggtqwD42QKpvmFKf6gtDMMTjQmG8CYoR1oU-MF_bkcGoiCeBxi9hhtjLzr4ZnXc8CCs_BVHjzY3U1WzBCK9DWEB3o1QLVc-R1fSflRL97VbqbR6aePLKfrh1q6aN9T6wWI/s1600/Opera+Garnier+%2528www.capdel.de%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjevB9pVWTH3ggtqwD42QKpvmFKf6gtDMMTjQmG8CYoR1oU-MF_bkcGoiCeBxi9hhtjLzr4ZnXc8CCs_BVHjzY3U1WzBCK9DWEB3o1QLVc-R1fSflRL97VbqbR6aePLKfrh1q6aN9T6wWI/s400/Opera+Garnier+%2528www.capdel.de%2529.jpg" width="387" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">Opera Garnier (www.capdel.de)</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Ken Dunn rose from the bed like a cobra about to strike.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
"Sometimes I ..."<br />
<br />
"Sometimes what?" Fiona retorted harshly "You useless bastard! I don't know why the fuck I ever married you!"<br />
<br />
That was three days ago.<br />
<br />
It was getting dark outside and shadows were cast across the walls.<br />
<br />
Ken Dunn finished his whiskey.<br />
<br />
His wife had bled him dry.<br />
<br />
"You're a bloody loser!" Fiona Dunn snarled as she shoved her face up close to her husband's.<br />
<br />
Ken Dun had rolled his hands into tiny fists.<br />
<br />
<br />
He'd had days of persistent nagging and antagonism from his wife.<br />
<br />
And something in his head had finally clicked.<br />
<br />
"I don't know why I stay with you! You're a shit husband and you're shit in bed"<br />
<br />
Dunn squeezed his eyes tightly shut.<br />
<br />
"You can't do anything right! You can't even book a decent bloody holiday!"<br />
<br />
His teeth were clenched.<br />
<br />
"Fucking bastard! I fucking hate you, you useless old man!"<br />
<br />
He was shaking with anger.<br />
<br />
"I only married you for your money! It certainly wasn't for <i>anything</i> else!"<br />
<br />
Ken Dunn grabbed Fiona by the throat.<br />
<br />
She was gasping and struggling but he had the full weight of his body on her.<br />
<br />
"Why don't you just fucking shut that stupid, tarty fat gob of yours ..."<br />
<br />
Tracy's eyes were bulging and she was turning blue.<br />
<br />
She clawed pathetically at his face.<br />
<br />
".... you nasty selfish little bitch ..."<br />
<br />
She was gasping and gagging for air.Thirteen-years of pent-up fury and frustration had finally emerged as Ken Dunn straddled his bony wife and banged her head against the floor.<br />
<br />
" .... you fucking little whore ...."<br />
<br />
And flailing about like a dying silver fish.<br />
<br />
".... don't you ever .... <i>ever</i> call me a loser again ..."<br />
<br />
The room was spinning now and only Ken Dunn's fury was real.<br />
<br />
".... you skinny bitch ...."<br />
<br />
Tracy Dunn was flopping about limply like a rag doll.<br />
<br />
" ... not laughing anymore are ya? ...."<br />
<br />
At last her body went still.<br />
<br />
"... fucking slag ..."<br />
<br />
Her eyes were glassy and staring.<br />
<br />
" .... rot in hell ..."<br />
<br />
Her tongue protruding out of her open red mouth.<br />
<br />
And the rage demon departed.<br />
<br />
Ken Dunn tossed the corpse on the floor.<br />
<br />
"Ding-dong the bitch is dead!" He proclaimed triumphantly.<br />
<br />
A piece of trash had been dealt with.<br />
<br />
And he didn't care less what was going to happen to him.<br />
<br />
So long as the vicious little tart was dead.<br />
<br />
That was three hours ago.<br />
<br />
Ken Dunn had been sitting with her dead body all that time.<br />
<br />
And now as he looked down at her on the floor, he began to laugh.<br />
<br />
She was staring up at him blank eyed and blue.<br />
<br />
At last the nasty bint had shut her big mouth.<br />
<br />
And Ken Dunn swore he could hear the angels singing.<br />
<br />
Then his phone went off.<br />
<br />
It was Leanne.<br />
<br />
"Hows the bitch?" She asked.<br />
<br />
"She's just havin' a little nap" Ken Dunn replied<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">Room 70</span><br />
<br />
The room was opulent enough for a young woman accustomed to luxury.<br />
<br />
Samiya Mahmoud was used to opulence.<br />
<br />
Born into a rich Saudi Arabian dynasty in Al Khobar, she lived and breathed it.<br />
<br />
The silver fork was barely on the empty platter before a servant appeared and surreptitiously carried it off the table. <br />
<br />
Samiya was the youngest daughter of Khalid and Wahida Mahmoud.<br />
<br />
They lived in a sprawling mansion with eighty-eight rooms as opulent as any royal palace's.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBMujiCQ6xwEjC296jz18xEM-AQ-t6yGHiv9N9O1dyk1JaiW7RlWtrCfKvWtc6FajJH9Xnqlsi80kKb70f0bWSMrM0T1K2zVcfl8vscjcLHrRTooCAbDLftHy1wdYT9BD1eV5HwDkk8F4/s1600/Khobar+Saudi+Arabia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBMujiCQ6xwEjC296jz18xEM-AQ-t6yGHiv9N9O1dyk1JaiW7RlWtrCfKvWtc6FajJH9Xnqlsi80kKb70f0bWSMrM0T1K2zVcfl8vscjcLHrRTooCAbDLftHy1wdYT9BD1eV5HwDkk8F4/s400/Khobar+Saudi+Arabia.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">Khobar Saudi Arabia</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Khalid was a billionaire real estate magnate and proud of his three boys and two girls.<br />
<br />
At nineteen Samiya was the last of the Mahmoud children to remain unwed.<br />
<br />
But all that was about to change.<br />
<br />
Khalid and Wahida had chosen the son of one of their closest friends to be her husband.<br />
<br />
Karam Koury was twenty-two and the son of banking billionaire Mansur and his third wife Habiba Koury.<br />
<br />
Mansur had four sons and four daughters and Karam was the one who most resembled him in looks and temperament and he was eager to impress his father.<br />
<br />
Karam was well spoken, tall and swarthy with bushy black hair and keen brown eyes.<br />
<br />
Everyone agreed it was a good match.<br />
<br />
The nineteen-year-old girl had little say in the matter.<br />
<br />
Everything had been decided for her as it always was.<br />
<br />
Samiya was petite with olive skin, almond shaped black eyes and glossy raven hair.<br />
<br />
She had been bought up in the lap of luxury in a golden gilded palace and had rarely been away from her parents side and had been chaperoned from an early age.<br />
<br />
Even when she went to London with her sister for three days, she was accompanied by her father's bodyguard.<br />
<br />
Samiya Mahmoud had been wearing a hijab since she could remember and she never left the house without being modestly covered up.<br />
<br />
Her father was strict about such matters but the one concession he made for his sweet daughter after considerable rumination was to allow her the pretty patterned hijabs that she so loved to wear.<br />
<br />
But in everything else Khalid Mahmoud was very conservative and expected Samiya to behave as an observant Muslim woman.<br />
<br />
Mahmoud was a conventional Saudi Arabian man who was all for progression provided that it did not compromise his principles.<br />
<br />
All the boys were expected to follow in his footsteps and the two girls were expected to make good matches.<br />
<br />
Samiya and her older sister Nana were allowed to have a career provided they remembered that family always came first.<br />
<br />
None of the Mahmoud children begrudged their father.<br />
<br />
They looked up to him as the patriarch of the family and were eager to please him.<br />
<br />
Khalid Mahmoud was short and grey haired, with swarthy skin and saturnine looks.<br />
<br />
He was quietly spoken but authoritative and his sharp black eyes bored right into people.<br />
<br />
Wahida Mahmoud was the opposite to her husband.<br />
<br />
She was talkative and outgoing and strongly maternal.<br />
<br />
Wahida was small and voluptuous with olive skin, black eyes and abundant raven hair.<br />
<br />
And she was particularly fond of her youngest daughter and adamant that she find a good husband and have a large family.<br />
<br />
And she was already busily planning the impending wedding with gusto.<br />
<br />
Samiya watched silently as her world was mapped out for her.<br />
<br />
She had barely spoken to her husband-to-be.<br />
<br />
And suddenly she was looking at the years ahead and feeling trapped.<br />
<br />
Like a bird with clipped wings.<br />
<br />
Suddenly she yearned to be free as she looked up the unmistakable Arabian sunset.<br />
<br />
Samiya had been an obedient daughter but now she desired one last strike for liberation. <br />
<br />
So she slipped away to the waiting taxi at the break of dawn.<br />
<br />
Samiya had quietly planned it all.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
</div>
The flight and the hotel.<br />
<br />
"Hôtel du Louvre" Samiya murmured as she contemplated seven days without her family and incessant wedding planning. <br />
<br />
She felt exhilarated and frightened at the same time. <br />
<br />
Samiya had visited much of Europe and Africa only in the presence of her family and their Sri Lankan maid Athula. <br />
<br />
And momentarily she paused.<br />
<br />
Her parents would be worried sick.<br />
<br />
But she would soon be back with them all again. <br />
<br />
The taxi drove Samiya to King Fahd International Airport where she boarded a flight to Paris.<br />
<br />
Her heart was beating hard and fast all the way and only when the plane finally took off did she relax.<br />
<br />
Paris was as moody and evocative as she remembered it.<br />
<br />
At last she could breathe and for the first time in months Samiya felt completely free.<br />
<br />
The sky looked so big.<br />
<br />
It was a world full of endless possibilities. <br />
<br />
Samiya strode through the foyer in a black Ted Baker belted wrap coat, black Prada sunglasses and blue silk Yves Saint Laurent scarf tied about her neck.<br />
<br />
The friendly male porter had received a handsome tip for carrying her suitcases to the plush room that would be her home for seven days.<br />
<br />
Her hands were shaking as she closed the door behind her.<br />
<br />
Samiya Mahmoud was alone at last.<br />
<br />
Her coat tumbled to the floor.<br />
<br />
With a hand gesture she removed the silk scarf from her head and unclasped her thick raven hair so it tumbled down behind her. <br />
<br />
And kicked off her Jimmy Choo heels.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2AqQWa_bQuh9FiuVBboPDEfmSug7DA2GEeEXzUxltxWLDdQb_gr_dIaSxsRbjVlfkYsr17HY9i6W1qycJ78_aAk39fNAlPWo8NpjmW_oE_CxagDO2SyuveP6yXYeP3dusikM3Od7CyMU/s1600/The+castles+in+Paris+%2528chandt.blogspot.com%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2AqQWa_bQuh9FiuVBboPDEfmSug7DA2GEeEXzUxltxWLDdQb_gr_dIaSxsRbjVlfkYsr17HY9i6W1qycJ78_aAk39fNAlPWo8NpjmW_oE_CxagDO2SyuveP6yXYeP3dusikM3Od7CyMU/s400/The+castles+in+Paris+%2528chandt.blogspot.com%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The castles in Paris (chandt.blogspot.com)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Samiya put the radio on and danced for thirty-five minutes to every pop song they played.<br />
<br />
Then she fell exhausted onto the huge bed. <br />
<br />
Her heart was pounding in her chest.<br />
<br />
Samiya was laughing and crying at the same time.<br />
<br />
She hardly noticed that her phone had been going off and when she saw that it was her sister calling, she felt a great emotional tug.<br />
<br />
There were five saved messages.<br />
<br />
Samiya struggled to keep her composure as her sister's anguished voice filled the air.<br />
<br />
<i>"Sami ... where are you? ... we are frantic with worry ... baba and ommy are afraid for you ... please pick up the phone and let us know you are alright"</i><br />
<br />
For several long moments Samiya grappled with her conscience.<br />
<br />
She couldn't bear to think of her family suffering.<br />
<br />
And Samiya was briefly tempted to throw it all in and fly back to Saudi Arabia that evening.<br />
<br />
But the cry for freedom was still too strong.<br />
<br />
She bathed in a bath filled with Jo Malone Red Roses and anointed herself with Joy by Jean Patou.<br />
<br />
Samiya slipped into a white crinkled silk-georgette Chloé gown and silver Jimmy Choo heels.<br />
<br />
She applied a slick of red Elizabeth Arden lipstick and piled her raven hair high upon on her head<br />
<br />
Tonight she would be entering a public place without a head covering and the prospect both frightened and exhilarated her.<br />
<br />
She felt bare and exposed but it was an essential step in her rebellion.<br />
<br />
But she had no intention of touching any alcohol.<br />
<br />
A line had to be drawn in the sand somewhere.<br />
<br />
The Arabian beauty drew appreciative glances as she dined alone in the hotel restaurant that evening.<br />
<br />
And then she noticed <i>her</i>.<br />
<br />
Samiya had heard about the famous supermodel who was staying at the hotel.<br />
<br />
Mimi Durand had entered the restaurant with her personal assistant amid a flurry of excitement.<br />
<br />
She was tall and striking.<br />
<br />
Durand was very animated and smiled frequently as she spoke.<br />
<br />
Her meal of a Spanish omelette and salad arrived and she tucked into it in between signing autographs for excited diners.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
The Arabian beauty was fascinated by the supermodel and everything she represented.<br />
<br />
It was a lifestyle that was a million miles from anything she had known.<br />
<br />
Samiya Mahmoud was the east.<br />
<br />
Mimi Durand was the west.<br />
<br />
And as Samiya observed the supermodel she wondered what price she had paid to have the eyes of the world upon her.<br />
<br />
And she realised that it was a world she did not belong in.<br />
<br />
The following day Samiya visited the Faubourg Saint-Honoré district and explored the pretty boutiques in the arcades of the Palais Royal.<br />
<br />
She bought the entire Chanel autumn collection and several designer outfits and three pairs of shoes at Versace and Hermes.<br />
<br />
Samiya cut an exotic figure in her navy woolen Prada coat and purple silk chiffon Chopard head scarf tied around her chin.<br />
<br />
She was aware that she was turning heads and it made her smile.<br />
<br />
Samiya sat in the Tuileries and watched the world go by from behind her large black Prada sunglasses.<br />
<br />
The world seemed to be turning without her but very soon she would have to resume her place in the order of things.<br />
<br />
"Just not yet ... not yet"<br />
<br />
There was still so much to see and do.<br />
<br />
Even for just a few days.<br />
<br />
She longed to dance in the rain.<br />
<br />
To lie in the sun.<br />
<br />
There was still so much life left to live.<br />
<br />
It was getting dark by the time she returned to her hotel room.<br />
<br />
Samiya glanced at the big shopping bags filled with designer clothes and shoes.<br />
<br />
And she smiled.<br />
<br />
She had done this all for herself.<br />
<br />
And above all she had struck out for her freedom.<br />
<br />
Then Samiya remembered her phone.<br />
<br />
She had deliberately left it on the bedside table.<br />
<br />
Now it was beckoning to her now and she could not ignore it any longer.<br />
<br />
There were thirty-six messages waiting for her.<br />
<br />
Samiya spent half and hour listening to the voices of her sister and her eldest brother imploring her to contact them from home.<br />
<br />
<i>"Please ... let us know you are alright ..."</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>"Just pick up the phone ... we won't be angry with you ... just talk to us Sami ..."</i><br />
<br />
It was the sound of her mother's voice that made her weep.<br />
<br />
<i>"Sami ... Sami, this is your mother ... please pick up the phone ... we miss you ... we are desperately worried about you ... please come home ..."</i><br />
<br />
"But I haven't lived ..." Samiya cried.<br />
<br />
The phone clicked off.<br />
<br />
And the hotel room was silent once again.<br />
<br />
Only the sound of her tears filled the air.<br />
<br />
Suddenly her plea for freedom felt foolish.<br />
<br />
What freedom had she wrought?<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyBjt8ogXNsDxkurxoqUQG9e3DSjyh4WopWU1IATPCHTu7kpqutSHF35bhvbBpWmO7MrZnyZu0KGaDCWN7lDRuIA_RbgXOoumWlKYQsIibL5P4R14P_HwuxZW1fVXUkruT79tOwMStSmM/s1600/HOTEL.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyBjt8ogXNsDxkurxoqUQG9e3DSjyh4WopWU1IATPCHTu7kpqutSHF35bhvbBpWmO7MrZnyZu0KGaDCWN7lDRuIA_RbgXOoumWlKYQsIibL5P4R14P_HwuxZW1fVXUkruT79tOwMStSmM/s640/HOTEL.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">Hôtel du Louvre (www.hotels.com)</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Samiya realised that she had been running away from <i>herself</i>.<br />
<br />
As if she were trying to hide from her own shadow.<br />
<br />
Samiya had barely noticed the loud knocking at the door.<br />
<br />
A loud knocking at the door shook her out of her sadness.<br />
<br />
She dried her tears and answered the door.<br />
<br />
And there she froze.<br />
<br />
Her carefully constructed secret world had finally imploded.<br />
<br />
Standing in the doorway was her father's burly bodyguard, Asim.<br />
<br />
He stared impassively at her.<br />
<br />
For several moments Samiya wondered how he had been transported from Saudi Arabia to Paris.<br />
<br />
Was there a flying carpet?<br />
<br />
And how had he known where to find her?<br />
<br />
These thoughts raced through Samiya's head as she looked up at the huge bodyguard.<br />
<br />
He was a man of few words but today he said nothing.<br />
<br />
Then the unmistakable form of her father slowly emerged from behind the muscular bodyguard.<br />
<br />
Samiya felt a mixture of emotions as she beheld the most important man in her life.<br />
<br />
Father and daughter gazed at each other for several long moments unable to speak.<br />
<br />
Several days apart had seemed like several centuries.<br />
<br />
All her resistance melted in the presence of her father.<br />
<br />
It had dissolved into shame.<br />
<br />
She felt naked before him.<br />
<br />
As if all her secrets were exposed.<br />
<br />
Samiya was a little girl again.<br />
<br />
"I'm sorry father" Samiya finally said.<br />
<br />
"You are the jewel of my heart" Khalid Mahmoud replied "Where you go, I go"<br />
<br />
Samiya's strike for freedom had been brief.<br />
<br />
She had left Saudi Arabia a teenage girl.<br />
<br />
But she was returning to it a young woman.<br />
<br />
"I'm coming home" Samiya informed her father firmly.<br />
<br />
She had seen enough of the western world to accept that she did not fully belong in it.<br />
<br />
Her world was in Saudi Arabia in the home of her new husband.<br />
<br />
Khalid Mahmoud flung his arms around his daughter.<br />
<br />
Samiya Mahmoud was coming home at last.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The Brasserie du Louvre</span><br />
<br />
Didier Dupont was sitting at a table in the hotel restaurant by himself.<br />
<br />
He had already lost his appetite.<br />
<br />
This was his fifth cup of coffee.<br />
<br />
The rich diners around him were talking animatedly but Didier Dupont felt oddly disconnected from them.<br />
<br />
For a brief moment Dupont swore he saw a familiar form brush past him.<br />
<br />
The unmistakable black robes.<br />
<br />
And then he was back at the seminary again.<br />
<br />
The older priest listened to the younger priest intently.<br />
<br />
"I don't know who I am anymore!" Father Francis cried.<br />
<br />
There was an intensity in his gaze and his dark eyes were large and haunted.<br />
<br />
Father Francis was experiencing a crisis of conscientious.<br />
<br />
He had been a priest for thirty-years but in the last couple of years doubts began to creep into his head like spiders crawling across his brain.<br />
<br />
Now he was plagued by doubts.<br />
<br />
And his very existence was painful.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL3fncF6mBP9zUCeH7LAnIUN1L81ZsDedaI7tQ1_qVD1smxsL5rDKRax9MdKQPslHw5AD-hSrffPqiiAXlDiDV8xOwXE5pdcQX6wGMw6erF2anlN7X3uYdT4kioUmv9OHAmkkNNz6Waic/s1600/Crucifix+%2528deusnobis.com%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL3fncF6mBP9zUCeH7LAnIUN1L81ZsDedaI7tQ1_qVD1smxsL5rDKRax9MdKQPslHw5AD-hSrffPqiiAXlDiDV8xOwXE5pdcQX6wGMw6erF2anlN7X3uYdT4kioUmv9OHAmkkNNz6Waic/s400/Crucifix+%2528deusnobis.com%2529.jpg" width="389" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">Crucifix (deusnobis.com)</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
"We live in a world of temptation" Father Ignatio said earnestly "and we also live in a world of mirrors"<br />
<br />
Father Francis was perplexed by the older priests words and in the brevity with which he spoke.<br />
<br />
But Father Ignatio had been a priest for sixty-years and the anchor to which the younger priest always clung.<br />
<br />
Father Francis nodded.<br />
<br />
"The battle is a spiritual one" Father Ignatio added.<br />
<br />
"And I am afraid that I am losing the battle" Father Francis cried with anguish.<br />
<br />
Silence descended upon the room.<br />
<br />
"Greater is he that is in you, than he that is in the world" Father Ignatio replied "The battle has already been won. Go, and find yourself"<br />
<br />
Father Francis nodded silently and left the room.<br />
<br />
There was nothing more to say.<br />
<br />
Father Ignatio understood that the younger priest was walking a difficult path but he prayed that he would find his way safely home again.<br />
<br />
That was three days ago.<br />
<br />
Father Francis was Didier Dupont again.<br />
<br />
He hadn't been Didier Dupont for over thirty-years.<br />
<br />
The light stung his eyes as he stepped back into the world again.<br />
<br />
It was dirty and noisy and he felt like a fugitive.<br />
<br />
Like the heavily burdened who confessed to him on a daily basis.<br />
<br />
But now he was the one who needed to confess.<br />
<br />
Didier Dupont was dressed in civilian clothes but he did not belong among them.<br />
<br />
He was like the walking wounded.<br />
<br />
An alien among humans.<br />
<br />
And everything seemed emotionally heightened.<br />
<br />
He had expected to feel euphoria but instead he felt lost.<br />
<br />
"Jésus sauver" read the charred poster of Christ on the wall.<br />
<br />
Didier Dupont paused.<br />
<br />
His heart was beating fast.<br />
<br />
People were talking loudly.<br />
<br />
They kissed and caressed each other on the street corner. <br />
<br />
Billboard of half-naked women enticed him with half open red lips.<br />
<br />
Didier Dupont felt a strange stirring in his loins.<br />
<br />
He had not been fleshly love in over thirty-years.<br />
<br />
He had become a virgin again.<br />
<br />
Now Dupont stood in the middle of the street surrounded by temptations of the flesh and conspicuous consumption.<br />
<br />
What freedom had he won?<br />
<br />
Didier Dupont fell against the lamppost as he felt bile rise in his throat.<br />
<br />
Life looked different from within the confessional and the virtually cloistered life he had led for thirty-years.<br />
<br />
Father Francis had been a good priest and had been loved by his congregation and feted by his contemporaries.<br />
<br />
But he had become lost along the way.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
He watched his mother waste away in hospital and the world as he knew it ended.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
</div>
Despair had nibbled holes in his faith.<br />
<br />
He looked around him and saw human suffering and desolation.<br />
<br />
And now he felt estranged from his faith.<br />
<br />
Now Didier Dupont clutched the small suitcase to him as he ran through the driving rain to the waiting taxi.<br />
<br />
He was searching for a sign.<br />
<br />
A sign that he and God were on good terms again.<br />
<br />
Anything the begin the rehabilitation.<br />
<br />
"Où, mon ami?" The taxi driver asked him in heavily accented French.<br />
<br />
He was swarthy with curly black hair and glittering black eyes and Didier Dupont guessed he must be of North African origin.<br />
<br />
Dupont pondered for a moment.<br />
<br />
Suddenly he felt completely lost.<br />
<br />
Then he remembered a place that had had a big impact upon him as a child.<br />
<br />
To all intents and purposes he was a seven-year-old boy looking up at his smiling father expectantly in the reception of a golden palace.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFKs5oxik_ZbMxjmeRqdZpOQE0hne7mMQ4724lJWptWa8O2gt2M2xc2TB4IyLtNSWL4L26SavMWfC-99xx8FAOyFKIpHYKr37xqMo5gNBV-ZH4CsDDbbMviZDrPwFRSOiAbvuruTJ8Z5E/s1600/Paris.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFKs5oxik_ZbMxjmeRqdZpOQE0hne7mMQ4724lJWptWa8O2gt2M2xc2TB4IyLtNSWL4L26SavMWfC-99xx8FAOyFKIpHYKr37xqMo5gNBV-ZH4CsDDbbMviZDrPwFRSOiAbvuruTJ8Z5E/s400/Paris.jpg" width="388" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Paris </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
"Hôtel du Louvre" Didier Dupont replied.<br />
<br />
It had already stopped raining by the time the taxi pulled up outside the hotel.<br />
<br />
And Didier Dupont had been confronted by an unexpected sight.<br />
<br />
A growing crowd of excited spectators had begun to congregate around a sleek black limousine.<br />
<br />
"Mimi!" The taxi driver informed him.<br />
<br />
Dupont paid the taxi driver and tipped him generously.<br />
<br />
"Que Dieu vous bénisse mon ami!" The taxi driver cried before speeding away.<br />
<br />
Didier Dupont froze.<br />
<br />
The words swirled around his head.<br />
<br />
"Que Dieu vous bénisse mon ami"<br />
<br />
He closed his eyes and when he opened them the crowd seemed to have multiplied and cars were tooting their horns.<br />
<br />
The animated crowd were chanting in unison.<br />
<br />
"Mimi!Mimi!Mimi!"<br />
<br />
Out of the car arose a tall and lithe young woman in a white satin Prada trouser suit.<br />
<br />
The crowd erupted into applause and terms of endearment.<br />
<br />
"Mimi nous vous aimons!"<br />
<br />
It was as if an angel had landed in the heart of Paris.<br />
<br />
The supermodel waved and blew kisses to her audience.<br />
<br />
Cameras were flashing and reporters were feverishly attempting to grab her attention as they flung questions at her.<br />
<br />
But the beautiful woman took it all in her stride.<br />
<br />
She was a past taskmistress at dealing with media attention.<br />
<br />
Didier Dupont was transfixed by the supermodel.<br />
<br />
It was as if he were staring the statue of Diana of Versailles at the Louvre Museum<br />
<br />
Idolatry.<br />
<br />
Dupont attempted to avert his gaze but the young woman caught him.<br />
<br />
She looked at him with her bright green eyes and she smiled.<br />
<br />
Then she was swept away by entourage and the surly bodyguards who kept the rapturous crowd at arms length from her.<br />
<br />
"Who is she?" Didier Dupont asked a young woman in the throng.<br />
<br />
"Vous ne savez pas qui elle est?" She replied with indignation.<br />
<br />
Dupont nodded.<br />
<br />
"She is Mimi" the young woman elaborated "Mimi Durand. Le seul et unique"<br />
<br />
Didier Dupont mouthed her name.<br />
<br />
"Elle doit être un ange" he finally said.<br />
<br />
Presently the crowd dispersed.<br />
<br />
Dupont ordered coffee and a croissant in the plush restaurant and watched the well heeled guests eat Foie Gras and sip champagne.<br />
<br />
They were a million away from the faithful congregation who had attended his church for thirty years.<br />
<br />
"It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle, than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of God" Didier Dupont caught himself saying.<br />
<br />
Now he searched all the faces to see if there was any sign that he belonged there.<br />
<br />
But he dd not.<br />
<br />
Didier Dupont did not belong anywhere.<br />
<br />
He was even more lost than they were.<br />
<br />
Dupont splashed his face with cold water in the rest room and gazed at his reflection in the mirror.<br />
<br />
A pale and haunted face stared back at him.<br />
<br />
A face he did not recognise.<br />
<br />
Didier Dupont took a deep breath as he walked back out again.<br />
<br />
"Give me a sign ... please .... give me a sign ... anything ... do not forsake me ... please ... give me a sign"<br />
<br />
He slumped into a chair at reception as he watched the rain lash outside.<br />
<br />
The sky was grey and foreboding.<br />
<br />
Didier Dupont sighed.<br />
<br />
"Father ..."<br />
<br />
He could feel clouds of despair gathering around him.<br />
<br />
"Father ..."<br />
<br />
His heart felt heavy.<br />
<br />
"Father ..."<br />
<br />
Didier Dupont felt a hand touch him gently on the shoulder.<br />
<br />
He looked up to see a young receptionist looking down upon him.<br />
<br />
She was a small brunette with hazel eyes and dimples in her cheeks.<br />
<br />
"Father Francis!" She cried "It is you! It is you!"<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzIUXCUhtpuA02tFLZOLBNiPnj3QfvNacLK93wCh_-48zx1wV4snlGtRZlNe514r-nVB3Y_6iZkZpEssb0-yRPFPC20QhSrTXIsvW1sup0MeXDRsZ3renYKpVCjzofzitYzus93FKxGoY/s1600/%2528jewelsvintagevibes.blogspot%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzIUXCUhtpuA02tFLZOLBNiPnj3QfvNacLK93wCh_-48zx1wV4snlGtRZlNe514r-nVB3Y_6iZkZpEssb0-yRPFPC20QhSrTXIsvW1sup0MeXDRsZ3renYKpVCjzofzitYzus93FKxGoY/s400/%2528jewelsvintagevibes.blogspot%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(jewelsvintagevibes.blogspot)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The dark clouds had begun to disperse.<br />
<br />
"Do you remember me?" The young woman continued excitedly "I am Monique and I and my family attested the Immaculate Conception Church until we moved seven years ago"<br />
<br />
Didier Dupony struggled to remember the pretty young woman. <br />
<br />
"You saved my brother Luc's life!" She explained "He nearly died in a road accident and was in a coma for months. You visited him almost every day in hospital and prayed by his bed and now he is professional footballer with Paris Saint Germain!"<br />
<br />
It was all coming back to him.<br />
<br />
Maurice and Thelma Claud and their two children, Monique and Luc.<br />
<br />
A lovely little family who owned a patisserie and lived above it.<br />
<br />
"Oui bien sûr, je me souviens de vous!" Didier Dupont cried.<br />
<br />
Tears had filled his eyes.<br />
<br />
"You are the kindest man I have ever known" Monique Claud informed him earnestly "And the best priest in the world"<br />
<br />
She took his hand and kissed it.<br />
<br />
Father Francis blessed her.<br />
<br />
He had come home at last.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Room 83</span><br />
<br />
Gina Altieri sat on the bed and dissolved into tears.<br />
<br />
Mascara streaked down her face as she howled with despair.<br />
<br />
Her lover attempted to soothe her with comfortable words but Gina was inconsolable.<br />
<br />
Stefan Sankt had been with Gina for just over three years now and he had become accustomed to the pattern of her depression.<br />
<br />
He had seen her evolve steadily but the self loathing and black despair seemed to be part of the process.<br />
<br />
When Stefan had first met Gina in a bar in Munich he was still in the throes of a dying marriage.<br />
<br />
His relationship with his wife Clara was shaky at best but the arrival of Gina sounded the death knell.<br />
<br />
Stefan had always been resolutely straight and had never been unfaithful to his wife throughout fourteen-years of marriage and that was why she found the presence of Gina even more baffling.<br />
<br />
He had never displayed any homosexual inclinations.<br />
<br />
The divorce was a low-key affair with Clara scrabbling to salvage something of her self-respect.<br />
<br />
Gina Altieri tore off the blonde wig and tossed it onto the floor.<br />
<br />
She was riven with self doubt and insecurities.<br />
<br />
And sometimes she wondered how Stefan could stay with her.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
</div>
"Why don't you just find yourself a pert little blonde woman and get with her!" Gina wailed.<br />
<br />
"Because I want to be with <i>you</i>"<br />
<br />
"The door is open if you want to go"<br />
<br />
"You are the <i>only</i> woman I want"<br />
<br />
Gina looked up at him with big tragic eyes.<br />
<br />
He was the only one who could see her for who she really was.<br />
<br />
Gina Altieri was born Giovanni Altieri in Calabria, Italy.<br />
<br />
From an early the tousle haired boy knew he was different.<br />
<br />
His mother Carlotta was a seamstress and his father Luigi a postman.<br />
<br />
As a toddler he thought nothing of playing with pieces of material or frolicking with his mothers dresses and make-up.<br />
<br />
These items were not gender specific to a child and Carlotta Altieri thought nothing of it.<br />
<br />
But he would be a pubescent teen before the growth of his genitals and characteristic male traits began to cause him real anguish.<br />
<br />
He was clearly not like the other boys and kept himself to himself.<br />
<br />
Luigi Altieri concluded that his only child was a dreamer but any attempts to bring him out of his shell failed.<br />
<br />
The boys overt femininity stood in stark contrast to the rough and tumble local boys who played football in the streets and climbed the highest trees.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPshCQpLb3CSOBCsPDVhz_L75f-prCzfs4Sh-Ua8b-CUbGD70muHu-luY2qGIIyWwTBVi3wlSWgZ9q7RvSWF06ZVM4zkLSxThbMkTFOmHTJZNiskVpZwC8V_HdPVSBxy4CXvvRkvmWoHg/s1600/Hotel+du+Louvre+www.evous.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPshCQpLb3CSOBCsPDVhz_L75f-prCzfs4Sh-Ua8b-CUbGD70muHu-luY2qGIIyWwTBVi3wlSWgZ9q7RvSWF06ZVM4zkLSxThbMkTFOmHTJZNiskVpZwC8V_HdPVSBxy4CXvvRkvmWoHg/s400/Hotel+du+Louvre+www.evous.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hotel du Louvre (www.evous)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Carlotta instinctively empathised with her sensitive son.<br />
<br />
But Luigi found it much harder to cope with.<br />
<br />
Other's in the village noticed how different Giovanni was and some of the younger boys began to tease him.<br />
<br />
Life in the beautiful village had become grim.<br />
<br />
"Giovanni is special" she informed her husband one night as she brushed her long black hair.<br />
<br />
"Is he <i>strano</i>?"Luigi snorted from the bed where he lay with his arms behind his head.<br />
<br />
"No!" Carlotta cried in a passion "He is <i>bello</i>!"<br />
<br />
Life became intolerable for the young man and at eighteen Giovanni Altieri finally fled Calabria.<br />
<br />
His mother gave him a locket and swore that she would stand by him no matter what.<br />
<br />
Luigi Altieri nodded a silent approval.<br />
<br />
Giovanni lived in London for four years where he worked in the Metro bank by day and explored Soho at night.<br />
<br />
He went to gay clubs but did not really feel part of the gay community.<br />
<br />
He could not relate to being gay because he knew that within his male boy was a woman.<br />
<br />
Giovanni was like a butterfly waiting to emerge from a chrysalis.<br />
<br />
And once again he was an outcast.<br />
<br />
Several years later he relocated to Germany to begin a new life and settled in Munich.<br />
<br />
Giovanni found a job at the Horizon Financial Bank but could not assuage the gnawing feelings of loneliness and sense of isolation.<br />
<br />
He came home to an empty apartment night after night and ate alone.<br />
<br />
To all intents and purposes he was a softly-spoken man with a gentle disposition.<br />
<br />
Those who pondered Giovanni Altieri assumed he was probably gay.<br />
<br />
Nobody suspected he was transgender.<br />
<br />
During therapy Giovanni explored his depression and his rejection complex.<br />
<br />
He confronted his conflicted emotions regarding his sexuality and raged and wept.<br />
<br />
Eighteen months later Giovanni Altieri met Stefan Sankt in a bar in Munich.<br />
<br />
Giovanni had taken to wearing dresses. wigs and heels at night.<br />
<br />
It was the only time he felt brave enough and liberated enough to venture out as a woman.<br />
<br />
By day he was Giovanni.<br />
<br />
By night he was Gina.<br />
<br />
But he felt a fraud.<br />
<br />
There was an instant rapport between the couple and Stefan Sankt was fascinated by the mysterious Italian.<br />
<br />
Sankt was a good-looking and engaging German architect who was in the throes of a dying fourteen-year childless marriage.<br />
<br />
He was short and stocky with blonde hair and crisp blue eyes.<br />
<br />
Stefan Sankt was charming and easy going and Gina felt comfortable in his presence.<br />
<br />
He seemed to genuinely appreciate her and could see beyond the makeshift attempt to make herself look like a woman.<br />
<br />
Stefan Sankt simply accepted Gina as one.<br />
<br />
The couple met often in the bar and sometimes had dinner in a local diner.<br />
<br />
People sometimes stared at them.<br />
<br />
They cut a curious sight with Gina over a foot taller than Stefan in her heels.<br />
<br />
But although all the inquisitive eyes did not bother him it hurt Gina deep down.<br />
<br />
Somehow a tentative love affair grew between them.<br />
<br />
It was based on affection at first but gradually grew into something deeper.<br />
<br />
A couple of years into the relationship and Gina felt strong enough to begin gender reassignment therapy.<br />
<br />
She stood naked before a mirror as he surveyed his hairless male body.<br />
<br />
The long and slow metamorphosis had begun.<br />
<br />
Physically she still had masculine characteristics but her voice and skin were softer and she could cover her short black hair with convincing wigs.<br />
<br />
She still had male genitalia and she hated herself for it.<br />
<br />
The road would more difficult than she had ever envisaged both psychologically and emotionally.<br />
<br />
They could transform her body but she would have to work on her mind.<br />
<br />
Nobody had prepared her for it.<br />
<br />
But it would be a small price to pay to obliterate the male body that did not belong to her.<br />
<br />
That was over two three years ago.<br />
<br />
Gina was about to undergo gender reassignment surgery at Charing Cross Hospital in London and Stefan had whisked her away for a small four-day break in Paris prior to it.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixrklK158BN7aIASRewUncxw-kezzS75Dk-KQCDCH3dgkOUi1jnv__6_0pfT-0HCwZuyfXTu_cwiPbcEIhhYN4ObrxoeP1_zPdbylY9fLHcCbupK-zyGEjCRQUkxh9UJaiPOqwtYMrCcI/s1600/Hotel+du+Louvre+www.laderks.co.uk.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="395" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixrklK158BN7aIASRewUncxw-kezzS75Dk-KQCDCH3dgkOUi1jnv__6_0pfT-0HCwZuyfXTu_cwiPbcEIhhYN4ObrxoeP1_zPdbylY9fLHcCbupK-zyGEjCRQUkxh9UJaiPOqwtYMrCcI/s400/Hotel+du+Louvre+www.laderks.co.uk.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">Hotel du Louvre (www.laderks.co.uk)</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
She was having a bad day.<br />
<br />
Gina felt as if she were grieving for the loss of a body she had never fully possessed.<br />
<br />
Sometimes she wished she could be like the glamorous model who was staying at the hotel.<br />
<br />
Gina had only seen her once as she stood on the balcony of her luxury suite.<br />
<br />
A tall and angular woman with dark brown tresses and distinctive green eyes.<br />
<br />
Mmi Durand.<br />
<br />
She flicked away her cigarette and as she turned she noticed Gina watching her avidly from her own balcony.<br />
<br />
Mimi gave her a wink and vanished into her suite.<br />
<br />
"Dea" Gina Altieri murmured. <br />
<br />
Stefan put his arm protectively around her.<br />
<br />
"We are in this together" he assured her.<br />
<br />
For a few moments the rain stopped falling outside.<br />
<br />
The sky had cleared.<br />
<br />
Gina managed a smile through the tears.<br />
<br />
A loud knocking at the door broke up the intimacy.<br />
<br />
"Room service!" A male voice cried from the other side of the door.<br />
<br />
It was an unexpected surprise.<br />
<br />
Gina quickly wiped her eyes and tidied herself up and shook out her blonde hair.<br />
<br />
Stefan bounded to the door and opened it to a slight porter holding a silver plate containing an iced bucket of champagne and canapés.<br />
<br />
And a single red rose.<br />
<br />
"Merci" Sank cried as he beckoned the man in.<br />
<br />
The porter placed the tray on the table.<br />
<br />
"Pour la jeune femme" he said as he handed Gina the red rose.<br />
<br />
She took the rose as a beaming Stefan covered her face in kisses.<br />
<br />
"Anything for you" he whispered.<br />
<br />
Sankt tipped the porter handsomely and he quietly slipped away.<br />
<br />
The following morning the German architect awoke alone in the large hotel bed.<br />
<br />
He knew something was wrong when he called out to Gina and there was no reply.<br />
<br />
None of her belongings were missing only the clothes she had been wearing the day before and her cashmere coat.<br />
<br />
Stefan instinctively surmised that Gina had gone for one of her long early morning walks.<br />
<br />
She did this when the black fog of depression had taken it's grip.<br />
<br />
It was 7.45 a.m.<br />
<br />
Stefan switched on the TV in time to see a body being dragged out of the Seine on the morning news.<br />
<br />
It was unmistakably female with a mop of blonde hair.<br />
<br />
The German architect's stomach began to somersault and the blood froze in his veins.<br />
<br />
"The body was discovered this morning after a passerby noticed something floating in the water" the attractive female newsreader said crisply "Reports suggest the body had been in the water for several hours. Police are not regarding it as suspicious"<br />
<br />
Stefan ran into the bathroom and retched into the basin.<br />
<br />
He splashed his face with cold water.<br />
<br />
"It can't be!" Stefan cried.<br />
<br />
He knew that Gina had been feeling depressed.<br />
<br />
But it always followed it's own pattern.<br />
<br />
Everything had seemed fine when they retired to bed.<br />
<br />
Gina had been in high spirits and was looking forward to the last leg in her gender reassignment treatment.<br />
<br />
But she could also mask her black moods well.<br />
<br />
And Gina was also prone to self destruction.<br />
<br />
Perhaps the depression had been much worse this time.<br />
<br />
Stefan stumbled out of the bathroom and quickly got changed.<br />
<br />
Three hours later the German architect returned to the Hôtel du Louvre in low spirits.<br />
<br />
He had wearily traipsed the Paris streets and his mouth was dry from asking the same questions over and over again.<br />
<br />
"Avez-vous vu cette femme?"<br />
<br />
Each time they stared at the frayed colour picture of Gina and shook their heads or offered regret for not having seen her.<br />
<br />
Only the owner of a cafe made a positive identification.<br />
<br />
"Yes I saw her early this morning" he explained "she looked preoccupied and melancholy. Like a ghost. I don't know where she was going"<br />
<br />
Stefan thanked the man profusely.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXpXjO7J7SlYB4svcDUjr0x5pSofI50-7DTMzAduc_d9FeSpK5jp3DxmuPkmm9KDAHihF8X2jPqlB_b4l_lUjM-vvxLHPH2kILll4gMx3CFEJqV5nK-7imz6GwXyOaEGvygOnENEr2oLw/s1600/Siene+river%252C+Paris+%2528simplyparisphotos.wordpress%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXpXjO7J7SlYB4svcDUjr0x5pSofI50-7DTMzAduc_d9FeSpK5jp3DxmuPkmm9KDAHihF8X2jPqlB_b4l_lUjM-vvxLHPH2kILll4gMx3CFEJqV5nK-7imz6GwXyOaEGvygOnENEr2oLw/s400/Siene+river%252C+Paris+%2528simplyparisphotos.wordpress%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Siene river, Paris (simplyparisphotos.wordpress)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
But he still returned to the hotel alone.<br />
<br />
For over an hour he sat in the lobby and swigged from a small bottle of whiskey.<br />
<br />
Gina was gone.<br />
<br />
She had not just run out on him.<br />
<br />
Gina had run out on herself too.<br />
<br />
With a heavy heart he contemplated checking out of the hotel and returning to Munich alone.<br />
<br />
The apartment would be empty without her.<br />
<br />
Stefan opened the door and stepped into the room.<br />
<br />
Then he froze.<br />
<br />
The key fell from his hand.<br />
<br />
"Where have you been?" Gina cried from where she was sitting on the bed "I went for an early morning walk and lost track of time. I've been sitting here for hours"<br />
<br />
"But how ..."<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
</div>
"The concierge gave me another key"<br />
<br />
Stefan was struggling to take it all in.<br />
<br />
"Why look so<i> tragiqu</i>e?" Gina smiled "I only went for a walk! You know what I'm like!"<br />
<br />
The German architect ran to her and enveloped her in his arms.<br />
<br />
"Don't ever do that to me again"<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Room 105</span><br />
<br />
Mimi Durand was alone at last.<br />
<br />
She looked around her deluxe suite.<br />
<br />
It had been transformed into a rose garden.<br />
<br />
There were bouquets of red roses everywhere.<br />
<br />
The smell was intoxicating.<br />
<br />
Mimi retrieved the golden card from the table.<br />
<br />
It was from a prestige cosmetics house who had been wooing her for three months. <br />
<br />
<i>"Il ya un seul visage pour nous"</i><br />
<br />
Mimi sighed.<br />
<br />
They wanted her to be their new ambassador and they were not going to take "no" for an answer.<br />
<br />
The willowy supermodel kicked off her white Jimmy Choo heels and poured herself a glass of champagne.<br />
<br />
She gave a toast to the cosmetics house.<br />
<br />
"Santé " Mimi smiled.<br />
<br />
And downed the champagne in one.<br />
<br />
They all wanted her.<br />
<br />
Mimi Durand was the "It Girl" of the fashion world.<br />
<br />
A star who had blazed a fiery trail.<br />
<br />
The street kid who had risen to the dizziest of heights.<br />
<br />
The good/bad girl.<br />
<br />
Desperate for a little peace.<br />
<br />
Mimi Durand ran herself a bath and checked her phone.<br />
<br />
There were ten messages waiting for her.<br />
<br />
They were from Antonio Bozzi.<br />
<br />
The handsome male model she had met at fashion show in Milan.<br />
<br />
Tall and swarthy with sleek black hair and mischievous brown eyes which twinkled when he smiled.<br />
<br />
Bozzi was charming and appealing and had been ardently wooing Mimi Durand since that fateful show.<br />
<br />
Only he could understand how she felt.<br />
<br />
How she could be surrounded by people but still be unable to assuage the gnawing sense of loneliness that gripped her soul.<br />
<br />
Mimi enjoyed his company.<br />
<br />
Antonio Bozzi was warm and attentive.<br />
<br />
But she did not reciprocate his feelings and sometimes she felt very guilty about.<br />
<br />
As his familiar melodic voice filled the room, Mimi Durand agonised over whether to call him back or not.<br />
<br />
He wanted her and she needed him but not in the same way.<br />
<br />
The phone clicked off.<br />
<br />
He was in love with her.<br />
<br />
But she was not in love with him.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV7P5fT9eguP8_nLWTNVzZ3x7FMBbPlLVn9FBS_WQ3VevS64j8MJwSr7llRLLZLNpbicmCoFadWq7RE16HEQlRlolh6Ud0RlHhcNWbituZMrV58bd3OX2oEbf0eeQPRmwBFwGbB2KDiUM/s1600/Hotel+s.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV7P5fT9eguP8_nLWTNVzZ3x7FMBbPlLVn9FBS_WQ3VevS64j8MJwSr7llRLLZLNpbicmCoFadWq7RE16HEQlRlolh6Ud0RlHhcNWbituZMrV58bd3OX2oEbf0eeQPRmwBFwGbB2KDiUM/s400/Hotel+s.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">(www.centralholidays.com)</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
"Stop doing this to yourself" Mimi murmured.<br />
<br />
She slipped out of her clothes and stood naked before the ornate mirror.<br />
<br />
Her long brown tresses covered her breasts like a mermaid.<br />
<br />
Mimi Durand.<br />
<br />
<i>"Enfant terrible"</i> of the fashion world.<br />
<br />
Little girl lost.<br />
<br />
She ran herself a bath and languished in the warm soapy suds.<br />
<br />
As Mimi lay there she was carried off into sleep and dreamed that she was a little girl again sitting by her mother's knee.<br />
<br />
She was Marianne Durand again.<br />
<br />
Her mother was telling her the story of the Little Princess.<br />
<br />
While her younger brother Anton lay curled up beside them on the floor as mesmorised by the storytelling as she was.<br />
<br />
Lucia Durand had a kind face with large blue-green eyes and the same dark brown hair as daughter.<br />
<br />
Little Marianne looked up wide-eyed as her mother spoke.<br />
<br />
Then a rough voice suddenly broke the gentle ambiance from off-side.<br />
<br />
"Chienne où est mon dîner!"<br />
<br />
Mimi Durand lurched out of the dream with a shudder.<br />
<br />
The bath water was cold.<br />
<br />
And it was already getting dark outside.<br />
<br />
She could still hear <i>his</i> voice.<br />
<br />
He was staring down at with his coarse unshaven face.<br />
<br />
Eyes glittering and mouth twisted into a scowl.<br />
<br />
"Petite chienne!"<br />
<br />
Her drunken father had beaten her mother again and now he was about to force himself onto her.<br />
<br />
Anton Durand was a car mechanic and the family lived in a small apartment in the Goutte d'Or area of Paris.<br />
<br />
Mimi's mother worked as a cleaner in a local school but times were hard and the little family often lived hand to mouth.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
</div>
Anton Durand was an alcoholic who took out his rage and frustration on his wife and son.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
</div>
He often spent the evenings in a drunken stupor slumped at the dinner table.<br />
<br />
Gaston Durand was already displaying emotional problems and was a shy and reserved child always in the shadow of his older sister.<br />
<br />
The little boy had become silent and rarely spoke now.<br />
<br />
Mimi Durand stepped out of the bath and dried herself.<br />
<br />
Then she applied Chanel Coco Mademoiselle body oil but her hands were shaking.<br />
<br />
Beneath her fingers she could still see the angry bruises and weal marks.<br />
<br />
She was Marianne Durand again.<br />
<br />
When she looked into the mirror she saw a bloodied face with a swollen black eye and a broken lip.<br />
<br />
There was an angry gash across her cheek where her father had thrown her against a table.<br />
<br />
"Pourquoi tu ne me tue pas?" She had screamed.<br />
<br />
Why did he allow her to live?<br />
<br />
Mimi Durand closed her eyes.<br />
<br />
"Pourquoi tu ne me tue pas?" She murmured<br />
<br />
When she opened her eyes again she was the world famous supermodel again.<br />
<br />
Mimi Durand.<br />
<br />
Fashion icon.<br />
<br />
They all wanted her.<br />
<br />
She put on her white satin Calvin Klein robe and lit up a cigarette.<br />
<br />
Mimi Durand went out onto the balcony.<br />
<br />
There was a full moon in the black starless sky.<br />
<br />
She looked out over the splendour of Paris.<br />
<br />
At last she was alone.<br />
<br />
Alone with all her memories.<br />
<br />
And the overwhelming sense of loneliness and isolation that seemed to dog her path.<br />
<br />
Mimi Durand.<br />
<br />
Catwalk queen.<br />
<br />
French icon.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
</div>
A victim of her own fame.<br />
<br />
Haunted by ghosts of the past.<br />
<br />
They all wanted her.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZXp3wynG9r34Jz4QFYjBSK9ZRAc1JYQ40fNiUg0k3kb4gDBJTjxcAKqszN8P8jal31Nvb6gTaakqEtSzmYkRm9QWgL7t7Khyphenhyphenfr0UN_nIwKGI7LWwiFHyGihy21ZbWgBzEwWmxXIqjSHg/s1600/Hotel+%2528www.parisinsidersguide.com%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZXp3wynG9r34Jz4QFYjBSK9ZRAc1JYQ40fNiUg0k3kb4gDBJTjxcAKqszN8P8jal31Nvb6gTaakqEtSzmYkRm9QWgL7t7Khyphenhyphenfr0UN_nIwKGI7LWwiFHyGihy21ZbWgBzEwWmxXIqjSHg/s400/Hotel+%2528www.parisinsidersguide.com%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> (www.parisinsidersguide.com)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Mimi Durand's guard had at last come down.<br />
<br />
She was standing on the balcony of her deluxe suite and weeping loudly as the rain lashed against her<br />
<br />
Mascara streamed down her face and mingled with her tears.<br />
<br />
It was a stormy and grey afternoon in Paris.<br />
<br />
The sleek black limousine pulled up beside the kerb as the rain pelted down.<br />
<br />
"Sortir de ma voiture!" The rotund German businessman yelled at the impassive young woman sitting beside him with her arms folded defensively across her chest.<br />
<br />
"Vas te faire encule!" She screamed back at him.<br />
<br />
Nineteen-year-old Marianne Durand had been caught in the act of stealing and it had evidently dampened the German businessman's ardent attentions.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
He had picked her up at Le Régine nightclub and was expecting something else at the Royal Garden Champs-Elysées hotel.<br />
<br />
But Marianne Durand wasn't going to give it away for nothing and he caught her riffling through his pockets and wallets.<br />
<br />
The chauffeur manhandled the kicking young woman out of the black limousine and dropped her on the pavement.<br />
<br />
"Little French whore!" The German business man snarled at her.<br />
<br />
"Fuck you! You fat German pig with a small dick!"<br />
<br />
Marianne Durand kicked the car door.<br />
<br />
Her coat and clutch bag were thrown out onto the street as the limousine sped away.<br />
<br />
The rain had intensified as a bedraggled Marianne Durrand cursed and stumbling around.<br />
<br />
Cars sped past her and tooted their horns.<br />
<br />
"Fuck you!" Durand screamed.<br />
<br />
The heel had broken off her green suede Manolo Blahnik heels and her black Versace strapless dress was sodden.<br />
<br />
Her dark brown tresses were matted and her face was streaked with mascara.<br />
<br />
"Bâtards!" Marianne Durand sneered.<br />
<br />
Men only wanted one thing and she knew how to manipulate them.<br />
<br />
They were they the prey and she was the huntress.<br />
<br />
Marianne fumbled around her black Hermes clutch bag and smiled as she pulled out a wad of notes.<br />
<br />
Her face lit up.<br />
<br />
It was almost worth it to know the fleshy German businessman had missed a trick.<br />
<br />
"Shitty fucker!" The nimble fingered nineteen-year-old snorted as she hastily counted the money. <br />
<br />
She did not notice that another black limousine had stealthily pulled up beside her.<br />
<br />
"Mlle êtes-vous d'accord?" A male voice called out to her.<br />
<br />
Marianne paused and slowly turned to see a chauffeur addressing her.<br />
<br />
"What's it to you?" She demanded.<br />
<br />
The man smiled.<br />
<br />
Marianne Durand might have looked like a drowned rat but she was down but not out.<br />
<br />
She tossed her dark tresses defiantly. <br />
<br />
The window in the passenger seat slowly buzzed down.<br />
<br />
Marianne slowly approached the car.<br />
<br />
"Je suis désolé mais je lui ai demandé d'arrêter" said the young woman from inside the limousine."My name is Veronique. Veronique Bibeau"<br />
<br />
She was a raven-haired beauty with a kittenish face and startling blue eyes.<br />
<br />
The epitome of style and class.<br />
<br />
Marianne Durand had never seen anyone like her before.<br />
<br />
She couldn't be much older than her and she must be loaded.<br />
<br />
Veronique Bibeau smiled at the rain sodden girl.<br />
<br />
Suddenly the teenage pickpocket had forgot it was raining and forgot how woe begotten she looked.<br />
<br />
She was momentarily transfixed by the mysterious maiden in a white lace Chloé dress with her black hair slicked into a chignon.<br />
<br />
"I saw what happened" Veronique Bibeau explained in her sing-song voice "and I can't bear to see you out in the rain like this. Why don't you jump in?"<br />
<br />
Marianne Durand had quite forgotten her rumbustious German encounter but suddenly she felt very self conscious.<br />
<br />
"Oh, don't worry about that" Veronique Bibeau smiled "we'll soon get you into some warm clothes"<br />
<br />
Durand could not believe her luck and was appropriately chastened.<br />
<br />
She climbed into the car beside the young woman.<br />
<br />
"Merci beaucoup" Marianne Durand said quietly.<br />
<br />
"Think nothing of it" Veronique informed her.<br />
<br />
"You must be an angel"<br />
<br />
"Perhaps I am your guardian angel"<br />
<br />
Suddenly the two women were talking as if they had known each other all their lives.<br />
<br />
And that was how it all began.<br />
<br />
Mimi Durand flicked her cigarette and walked back into her deluxe suite.<br />
<br />
She had never felt so alone.<br />
<br />
The big double bed suddenly looked imposing.<br />
<br />
And she couldn't bear to spend another night alone.<br />
<br />
Mimi checked her phone.<br />
<br />
There was a new message.<br />
<br />
And it came from the one person she longed to see above all others.<br />
<br />
The one person who could assuage the terrible ache inside and the only person that Mimi Durand had ever truly loved.<br />
<br />
The frosty silence was abruptly broken as Mimi played the message and a familiar voice filled the room<br />
<br />
"Bonne soirée ma belle!" Veronique Bibeau cried in her pretty voice "I've missed you!"<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">Hotel du Louvre </span></td></tr>
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="360" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/QUB7e3BtnvU" width="480"></iframe>Alex Karashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05398068721281907129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7825899785840631460.post-53103372215589586212015-05-03T16:35:00.000-07:002017-05-11T03:48:12.681-07:00The Barefoot Child ~ Retrospective Little angel Heather<br />
Now you are free<br />
Dance barefoot forever<br />
In the place you long to be.<br />
<br />
Little angel Heather<br />
The dark night has gone.<br />
A new day has come.<br />
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Now you are free.<br />
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~ <b>Heather</b> by Alex Karas<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Remembering Heather West ~ A Life Interrupted</span> </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">My</span> journey began the moment I saw a photo of Heather Ann West.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Heather</span> was a pretty dark haired teenager with elfin looks so reminiscent of the American singer Jane Weidlin. I glimpsed the terror behind her eyes. There was an instant connection. And I made a promise that I would tell her story. And so the long journey began.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I</span> knew the journey would be fraught and distressing but I also knew that I was compelled do it. And I felt strongly from the very beginning that somehow Heather wanted me to tell her story. So I was determined to tell it as honestly as possible without editing anything out. The more research I did, the more convinced I became that Heather's story had to be told.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Frederick </span>and Rosemary West loomed large in Heather's life. And their story ran parallel to hers. Frederick and Rosemary West were profoundly abnormal. They were the perfect storm. Frederick was the charming dullard who incurred extensive brain damage from three serious accidents. Rosemary was the volatile and unstable prostitute who almost certainly incurred brain damage from the electric shock treatment her mother received while she was still in the womb. Both had been sexually abused at an early age and would perpetuate the cycle of abuse in their adult lives. This is not written to excuse Frederick and Rosemary West but to get a handle on what they were. The Wests lived in an alternative universe where the normal rules did not apply. Horrifying and grotesque though it may be. And countless young women including Heather would be sacrificed to it along the way.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">We </span>may never know exactly how many young women died at the hands of Frederick and Rosemary West. But we can afford the ones we do know of the due respect they deserve. It was important for me that these young women were not simply portrayed as "victims" of "violent crime". They were real people who were expecting to go on with their lives. They had hopes and aspirations. The most compassionate thing I could do for these young women was to give them their humanity back. I could not escape the way they died but at least something of who they had been in life could be remembered. And there was a lot of incidental detail. For this reason I am most beholden to Marion Partington whose sister Lucy died at 25 Cromwell Street. Her book <i>If You Sit Very Still</i> was invaluable to me. As were the recollections of Caroline Roberts who survived.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The</span> research for <i>The Barefoot Child </i>was extensive. I read every book I could find about the Wests. I read articles. I listened to police tapes of a rambling Frederick West confessing and retracting his confessions. I watched hours of documentary. I looked at blogs. There was a wealth of information. And gradually I gathered the fragments of Heather's life together. The more I learned about Heather from those who had known her, the more I grew to love her. Professionalism dictates that you keep an emotional distance between yourself and the subject. But I confess that this was difficult with Heather West. So much of her short life was affecting.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I</span> am indebted to the many writers who covered the West case and the authors of invaluable books such as the late Gordon Burn, Howard Sounes, Geoffrey Wansell and Jane Carter Woodrow. These books helped form the back bone of my study and informed my work. I would have been lost without them.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">All </span>the people who featured in Heather's life came to life fully formed on the page. By the time I had finished my research and was undertaking the writing of <i>The Barefoot Child - </i>I felt as if I knew them all well. I can only express immense sympathy for all the West children. And I can only express my heartfelt condolences to the families of the young women who died at 25 Cromwell Street.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilV2ZNsMoRI9ZQPcq9p9LPSj7y-nzACr63LbxByE6A7TZvmiO6lwmq72YqDsdTAIIru7xVslMTVW7MrfoKLgRU28raRTrcTZ5BH7gbyNFNHY8Pv5ANq541XAywaNfoHVrYNOlRF5LwPzE/s1600/Heather+Anne+7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilV2ZNsMoRI9ZQPcq9p9LPSj7y-nzACr63LbxByE6A7TZvmiO6lwmq72YqDsdTAIIru7xVslMTVW7MrfoKLgRU28raRTrcTZ5BH7gbyNFNHY8Pv5ANq541XAywaNfoHVrYNOlRF5LwPzE/s400/Heather+Anne+7.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Heather </td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">There</span> were countless times I was confronted by the kind of extreme abuse that rocked me to the core and horrified me to the pit of my stomach. "How can parents treat their own children like that?" I asked myself often. There were so many times I felt desperation and helplessness in the face of the appalling details. There were so many times I just wanted to take the West children and hug them. To comfort them. To alleviate their suffering. And I desperately wanted to save Heather from her fate. But I could not and this utterly devastated me. The locomotive had already started and was hurtling towards a horrible end.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Many</span> tears were shed in the telling of Heather's story.There were so many poignant moments in Heather's brief life that were utterly heartbreaking. Such as the night before she died. Heather had been hoping to work at a holiday camp in south Devon as a chalet cleaner but the job was cancelled at the last minute. Heather was distraught and went to bed sobbing and wept all through the night so loudly that she kept her siblings awake. Her sister Mae had never seen her like this before. There were other things too. Heather was just a teenager on the cusp of adulthood. But in many ways she was also special. Heather wasn't like her other siblings and longed to be outdoors away from other people.Heather's ambition in life was to live in the Forest of Dean. This urchin quality really affected me. She loved the feeling of freedom and of being outdoors - it was very fierce in her. This spoke most to me about Heather. And she never wore shoes. She went everywhere barefoot. In the last known photo of Heather before she died, she can be seen in her half-sister Anne Marie's garden with Frederick West and her sister Mae. She is barefoot. It really touched me that Heather developed an intense crush on a male teacher at Hucclecote Comprehensive School. It really moved me that Heather and Mae understood each other and looked out for each other. They didn't need to say anything - they just knew.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpXtEaNXHSUHTf6BKeCY4hxIZbf_IKyuYr5fFwv6eSW5p6YzOECubkAg96g7Qry9BEGJG3dkP7s0PJy-JXc6qDQTVqJf5wIWuX4BJj4FUKaY2R_o6Z2kTAW2E0mh0ABBR07ZYmCwdNvK0/s1600/Heather+family.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpXtEaNXHSUHTf6BKeCY4hxIZbf_IKyuYr5fFwv6eSW5p6YzOECubkAg96g7Qry9BEGJG3dkP7s0PJy-JXc6qDQTVqJf5wIWuX4BJj4FUKaY2R_o6Z2kTAW2E0mh0ABBR07ZYmCwdNvK0/s1600/Heather+family.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">Family photo. Frederick West is in the middle. Heather is on the far right. </span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">At</span> times the subject matter was so extreme that I had to take a step back from it. But I couldn't shy away from it. I couldn't sanitise it. It was the stuff of nightmares and horror movies. And it was real. It really happened. And it happened in the county town of Gloucestershire in the South West region of England. Listening and reading Mae and Stephen West attempting to make sense of the nonsensical was at times heartbreaking. They were trying to understand the incomprehensible.The life they knew at Cromwell Street, however dysfunctional, was their reality. Frederick and Rosemary West were the only parents they had ever known. Most of the West children remained loyal to Frederick West simply because he was not as violent towards them as Rosemary West. Anne Marie had been sexually abused by father and her stepmother from the age of eight until she escaped at fifteen. Her recollections of the sordid life style at 25 Cromwell Street provided a window into the sexual deviancy and depravity that Frederick and Rosemary West indulged in. Only after Anne Marie had gone, did the degenerate couple turn their attentions to Heather. The raw, harrowing and at times deeply affecting reminiscences of Anne Marie were vital to <i>The Barefoot Child</i>.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Frustrating</span> details began to emerge about negligent social services, hospital staff and police officers during my research, It is difficult to comprehend how the West children could slip beneath the radar on so many occasions. It is hard to understand how no connections were made. One of Rosemary West's clients even contacted social services to inform them that he believed Heather was being sexually abused. But nothing was done about it. Caroline Roberts later blamed the police for scaring her off after she reported her twelve hour ordeal at the hands of Frederick and Rosemary West. She had the misfortune to be interviewed by a particularly officious police officer who frightened her. Roberts was too afraid to press charges and Frederick and Rosemary West escaped with nothing more than a £100 fine. It is likely that had Frederick and Rosemary West been stopped at this stage, numerous lives including Heather's would have been saved. Enter DC Hazel Savage twenty years later. If she had not persisted in her search for Heather, it is likely that Frederick and Rosemary West would have continued to murder young women in the cellar of 25 Cromwell Street. It was surely her insistence that Heather be found that finally bought the horror train to an end.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Heather</span> was almost certainly killed for fear of what she might say once she was out of 25 Cromwell Street. She had had the courage to defy her parents and would almost certainly have exposed the sleazy underworld of 25 Cromwell Street had she lived. And in many ways she did. There is some satisfaction in knowing that it was Heather reaching from beyond the grave who eventually bought down Frederick and Rosemary West.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Life </span>at 25 Cromwell Street was the only life that Heather, Mae and Stephen West had ever known. Mae and Heather were particularly close. They understood one another. They talked about escaping 25 Cromwell Street together.There is some comfort in knowing that the three West children had each other. As Heather grew into a teenager, the relentless abuse she suffered began to take its toll on her. At home she was quiet and withdrawn and at school she veered between being a model pupil and a rebellious teenager. And she recoiled from other men. All things considered, this bears all the hallmarks of an abused child. If anyone had actually cared enough to look closer.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Three</span> weeks before she died, a tearful Heather finally broke her silence and told her best friend what was happening at home. Denise Harrison had already seen the bruises and weal marks on Heather's body and she believed her. But tragically her parents did not. Denise never saw Heather again. Heather had tried to cry for help but there was nobody there to listen. One can only imagine the terror and desperation that Heather must have felt in the final days of her life. Her life depended upon finding a job that would take her away from Cromwell Street. Had she been able to secure a job she would have lived. But it was not to be. Heather had been brave to the very end. She stood up to her parents and it had cost her her life.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFByz82IQDMEjE_iV-yOXRqhhXoNMshfsO8ki2lFsoi0lsjc7XqCg6wNnFMKhLo1hBCG0jTDWBcPHuSKM5aRWJAqsvKth7G4L_PF88ok7Yr5zfdpmjQ3znoAlTj6b7VF5t7wBJ9cUUMY8/s1600/Heather+Ann+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFByz82IQDMEjE_iV-yOXRqhhXoNMshfsO8ki2lFsoi0lsjc7XqCg6wNnFMKhLo1hBCG0jTDWBcPHuSKM5aRWJAqsvKth7G4L_PF88ok7Yr5zfdpmjQ3znoAlTj6b7VF5t7wBJ9cUUMY8/s400/Heather+Ann+3.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Heather </td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The</span> details of Heather's death posed me with a dilemma and the biggest challenge of all. What to keep and what to leave out. I had to treat Frederick West's own recollections of what happened to Heather with extreme caution. He would dangle the truth like a carrot and then embellish it with a tissue of lies.<br />
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</span> <span style="font-size: large;">Thankfully</span> I had the reconstruction by writer Howard Sounes in his book <i>Fred and</i> <i>Rose</i>. The reconstruction is based upon expert opinion and the evidence. We know from her remains that she was not gagged like the other young women who died at the hands of Frederick and Rosemary West. A chord was found in her grave which suggests that her hands may have been tied and orange and green fibres embedded in the chord suggest that she was held down. But the exact details of her death are unknown. There is no evidence of sexual torture. All we know for certain is that Heather died in the hallway of 25 Cromwell Street in June 1987. The date - 19 June - is corroborated by Anne Marie West who made a note of it in her diary and Mae and Stephen who remember seeing Heather before they left for school. It was two days after the third birthday party of Anne Marie's daughter Michele in which the West family turned up in force. Anne Marie had been struck by the behaviour of Frederick and Rosemary West. Heather was not herself and that there was obvious friction between her and her parents.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I </span>also had the "eye witness" account from Barry West who was apparently only seven at the time. He allegedly witnessed Heather's death from a partially open door and gives graphic details of what happened to her.The account would only emerge two decades later in a down market newspaper supplement. According to Barry's recollection, it was Heather's last act of defiance that cost her her life. She would not submit to her father's relentless sexual attentions. Rosemary West would show little restraint with her children. The savage and brutal way in which Heather was dispatched therefore rings true. But there are problems with this account. According to Barry West, Heather had been out and had returned home at 3 am when her parents turned on her. This does not tally with what has already been established about Heather's final day. This confusion over dates and details does not automatically rule out Barry West's account but it does beg a question mark. Whatever happened to Heather, it was at the hands of Frederick and Rosemary West. We can easily discount his insistence that his wife was not involved in Heather's death. It is most improbable. Even if Rosemary West was not involved or even present at the time Heather died, she knew enough to play along with it when "Heather" began ringing the house some time after her disappearance.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3oVsmqXGAqRKI43W0iB7PkvnntOAx5rL6do2A8MnFwHA8UeMP-GW_3lvtRiGmH60TFyjvMXqKkdaym4_GUcEC8ooLquyhYiPNrVs4kTadlrHDAKu9VDs-lFa9QMAD4A0jAk05stlvvDc/s1600/Heather+-+pretty.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3oVsmqXGAqRKI43W0iB7PkvnntOAx5rL6do2A8MnFwHA8UeMP-GW_3lvtRiGmH60TFyjvMXqKkdaym4_GUcEC8ooLquyhYiPNrVs4kTadlrHDAKu9VDs-lFa9QMAD4A0jAk05stlvvDc/s1600/Heather+-+pretty.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Heather </td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">In</span> light of all these details, I decided to place both the reconstruction of Heather's death by Howard Sounes and the allegations by Barry West as both viable interpretations of Heather's final moments. Even though West's account is not corroborated by what has been established about Heather's last day. All we need to know is that Heather died at the hands of her parents in June 1987 and that she had been been brave to the very last. I can only pray that Heather's end came quickly.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">It</span> was important to me that I accord due respect to the principle people in Heather's story. The recollections of Mae, Stephen and Anne Marie were vital. The pattern of abuse established with Anne Marie would be perpetuated with Heather, I am indebted to Anne Marie for her recollections and her bravery. Another person who deserved attention was Charmaine West. She was just eight-years-old when she died. And like Heather, she had been defiant to the end. I found Marion Partington's book <i>If You Sit Very Still</i> to be an essential part of the journey. The book is profoundly moving and incredibly beautiful. Marion's sister Lucy died at 25 Cromwell Street and this book is her journey of healing. But the book is all about Lucy and the legacy of her life interrupted.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The</span> extensive research took just over six months. Piecing it all together required great patience and finesse. Choosing what to keep and what to discard was challenging. Thankfully, Heather had a strong character and this made the human story so much more accessible. I included everything I could find about Heather. I let the recollections of Mae, Stephen and Anne Marie speak for themselves. Their words feature throughout <i>The Barefoot Child</i> and they give an invaluable insight into life at 25 Cromwell Street and a first hand account of Heather's last few years. Factual information was essential in giving an account of what occurred but the personal reminiscences of the West children were fundamental in giving the work a beating heart. It was also because of the bravery of Anne Marie and Caroline Roberts that Rosemary West was eventually incarcerated. Their voices contributed greatly to this story. And above all Heather who showed such courage in the face of relentless abuse and terror. Her voice rings true.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Following</span> your gut instinct is of paramount importance because this is what fuels your writing. There are the cold hard facts but within that is the beating heart of your work. The spirit of what you are writing. I believed strongly in my vision of Heather and of telling her story. But I soon discovered that her life had to be seen within the context of a larger story. I could not omit the looming presence of Frederick and Rosemary West, their chronically dysfunctional upbringing and ultimately their murderous career. The incest that was taken as <i>de rigueur </i>in the upbringing of Frederick and Rosemary West would be perpetuated in their adult life and would ultimately impact Heather's life with tragic consequences.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">In</span> the end, I was loathe to let go of Heather. I had felt so connected to her. And I felt that I had been on an intense journey with her which was at times very dark. I felt genuinely grieved at her death and I often wrote in tears. My biggest regret is that I never knew Heather. I am only a year younger than her. I would love to have been Heather's friend.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYCwVKa5H2okXJxaCoSq3O23WKUTuJsMGT0R4GWHV66JAOaIXXmDzGYqgBPu3N-T_jTuX54i7xdAlZXlKZiP3hCEjpPYWKABpbux-3D7Gw148k_hQJa1-Bsa0sQahyphenhyphenqWUkgk0xXnfeOps/s1600/Heather+forest.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYCwVKa5H2okXJxaCoSq3O23WKUTuJsMGT0R4GWHV66JAOaIXXmDzGYqgBPu3N-T_jTuX54i7xdAlZXlKZiP3hCEjpPYWKABpbux-3D7Gw148k_hQJa1-Bsa0sQahyphenhyphenqWUkgk0xXnfeOps/s1600/Heather+forest.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Forest of Dean </td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">During</span> the course of writing <i>The Barefoot Child</i>, I had two powerful experiences. I had a "vision" in which I saw Heather standing on a beach. It was sunset. Heather was dressed in white. She had her back to me. She was looking out to sea. It was a vibrant yet incredibly peaceful scene. The sky was a deep purple. The sea was silver and glistening. I was concerned that Heather was alone. But she was content. I looked closer and saw that she was smiling. Heather wasn't alone at all. There was a huge presence pervading everything. Heather was at peace. And she was free. Free of them all.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The</span> second experience occurred towards the end of my writing. I looked up at a picture on the wall to see Heather reflected in it. She quietly entered the room. Heather was dressed in white again. Her head was slightly bowed. Heather did not speak. I felt a strong emotion being conveyed. A mixture of longing and loneliness. Heather's spirit had reached out to me. This was the connection I had longed for. Then Heather disappeared.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I</span> am sincerely grateful to everyone who has joined me to remember Heather's brief but shining life. I am indebted to the West children: Mae, Stephen and Anne Marie. Without them there would have been no project. Marion Partington and all the writer's whose work so richly informed my own.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">My</span> sincere wish is that you will come to love Heather as much as I do.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Every</span> single day, countless children are being abused within families in unremarkable homes on unexceptional streets all around the world. And nobody knows anything about it. Dark deeds committed in darkness.And these children have to live with the secrets and lies. They have to deal with the psychological and emotional damage in the aftermath. Relentless sexual abuse conducted in darkness must be exposed to the light. It must be shouted from the rooftops. Heather had the courage and strength of character to stand up to her evil parents and her story should be told. She should be remembered as a bright young girl whose young life was interrupted. And in remembering Heather we will shine a light for all the children taken from us so young and for all the children who are being abused.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Heather</span> West has left us a legacy. Not as the teenage victim of Frederick and Rosemary West buried beneath the patio. But as the Barefoot Child.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">This </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">has been a dark night of the soul for me. I</span> hope that Heather will be remembered as more than just a "victim" of Frederick and Rosemary West. The girl beneath the patio. I hope that people will remember her as the girl who yearned to live in the Forest of Dean and who never wore shoes. The pretty elfin teenager with a whole life ahead of her. A life interrupted before it had really begun. I will never forget Heather. And one day she will have a special place in my book.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Heather</span> is at peace.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2I-IuU-CnSkBGKh91-r4eSz_7Tk7zQrbWivYMhEST6K6zYTih5-W2h3QK5zApRp5deR3pGG9wBmZhFaCl7yeq1EEbWyVh58PgAOXrBhCuk2q8A7ad8Dqj4xUYWRMr2E0-Pvjrnj12dt8/s1600/Rose+by+thetragictruth+of+me.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2I-IuU-CnSkBGKh91-r4eSz_7Tk7zQrbWivYMhEST6K6zYTih5-W2h3QK5zApRp5deR3pGG9wBmZhFaCl7yeq1EEbWyVh58PgAOXrBhCuk2q8A7ad8Dqj4xUYWRMr2E0-Pvjrnj12dt8/s640/Rose+by+thetragictruth+of+me.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">IN MEMORY OF HEATHER ANN WEST</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">(1970~1987)</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">LOVED ALWAYS.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">NEVER FORGOTTEN.</span></div>
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Alex Karashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05398068721281907129noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7825899785840631460.post-70715716594970092012015-02-22T17:13:00.000-08:002015-11-08T12:30:03.576-08:00Shake The Tree<br />
Death gave the caterpillar her wings to greet happiness in the clouds.<br />
<br />
~ <b>Orphan</b> by David W Jones<br />
<br />
The Lord preserveth the strangers; he relieveth the fatherless and widow: but the way of the wicked he turneth upside down<br />
<br />
~ <b>Psalm</b> 146:9 (King James)<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNCqheXO2PFTo3uk0NbK-TOGjaOSiBh-qDGKCUv_5kw-D1PG9afEY5CPnMX2o4DCqxt5SXcqxYI1KDjN9Yp6PiL4ptp81hyxMMtWU6RjctJjriULDuh-s9adeiT_gusqedVqxX2B19h_I/s1600/Falling+by+cacodemonic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNCqheXO2PFTo3uk0NbK-TOGjaOSiBh-qDGKCUv_5kw-D1PG9afEY5CPnMX2o4DCqxt5SXcqxYI1KDjN9Yp6PiL4ptp81hyxMMtWU6RjctJjriULDuh-s9adeiT_gusqedVqxX2B19h_I/s1600/Falling+by+cacodemonic.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Falling (by cacodemonic deviantart.com)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">My Little </span></b><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Gustav</b></span><br />
<br />
Hemel Hempstead, South-East London<br />
<br />
Earth Hand.<br />
<br />
An elegant second-hand bookshop in the heart of town.<br />
<br />
The eco-conscious bookshop where people donated their books and customers chose three books to take away free of charge.<br />
<br />
A nobility in recycling.<br />
<br />
The lure of a free book is an incentive for people not only to feed their minds but to help the environment too.<br />
<br />
Peter Lojko had been managing Earth Hand since it opened three years before.<br />
<br />
He was the only paid member of staff.<br />
<br />
Lojko was a tall and charming forty-six year-old man with wavy brown hair and light blue eyes.<br />
<br />
His birth name was Patek but he preferred to be called Peter.<br />
<br />
Both his Polish parents had passed and he was still grieving for his mother Anka.<br />
<br />
Peter Lojko was an accomplished musician who performed with the BBC Symphony Orchestra and Earth Hand was his labour of love.<br />
<br />
He was a member of Greenpeace and supporter of Amnesty International and his large message board was full of slogans from Save The Children, Oxfam and Médecins Sans Frontières - amid the job adverts, rooms to let and fliers for the local theatre.<br />
<br />
The quiet bachelor lived alone in a modest flat in Woodland End.<br />
<br />
He had an on-off relationship with a pretty woman named Sandra Fields who worked at the BBC.<br />
<br />
Today Peter Lojke silently observed his newest recruit: a sprightly older woman who surreptitiously tidied up the shelves with a deft hand.<br />
<br />
The smooth running of Earth Hand was maintained by eight members of staff all working on a rota basis but Peter Lojko is the only one who is paid.<br />
<br />
Margaret O'Reilly.<br />
<br />
A homely looking Irish septuagenarian.<br />
<br />
Mild mannered and reserved.<br />
<br />
She was tiny with greying auburn hair, bright blue eyes and quick, birdlike movements.<br />
<br />
O'Reilly was like a little sparrow.<br />
<br />
A native of Dublin: she had been living in England since the age of eighteen but still spoke with a pronounced Irish lilt.<br />
<br />
And she was unfathomable.<br />
<br />
Nobody seemed to know much about her.<br />
<br />
They only knew that she was a former nurse.<br />
<br />
And that she lived alone in a small semi-detached house in Belmont Road.<br />
<br />
That was all.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Three Weeks Before</b></span><br />
<br />
"My name is Margaret O'Reilly and I'd like to speak to the manager"<br />
<br />
Peter Lojko looked at the austere looking older woman before him.<br />
<br />
She was wearing a green woolen coat and a small black cap.<br />
<br />
She could have stepped straight of the 1950's.<br />
<br />
By all intents and purposes, she reminded him of a school headmistress.<br />
<br />
And she addressed him as if he were a naughty schoolboy.<br />
<br />
He liked it.<br />
<br />
He gave her an amused smile.<br />
<br />
"I am the manager" Peter Lojko replied evenly.<br />
<br />
"Oh my dear, I am sorry"<br />
<br />
She seemed surprised.<br />
<br />
Her face melted into a smile.<br />
<br />
Like the sun melting an iceberg,<br />
<br />
"That's perfectly okay"<br />
<br />
"You could be my son" Margaret O'Reilly informed him with intense eyes.<br />
<br />
Peter Lojko felt a stab of pain lurch in his chest.<br />
<br />
His mother had died two years before of a massive stroke and he was still grieving for her.<br />
<br />
There was something comforting about the diminutive older woman before him.<br />
<br />
And something else ...<br />
<br />
"How can I help you?" Peter Lojko asked her politely.<br />
<br />
"Well, I saw your advertisement in the shop window for assistance and I would like to help"<br />
<br />
"What can you do?"<br />
<br />
"Anything you like" Margaret O'Reilly said.<br />
<br />
And with that she glanced quickly around the shop and then back at Peter Lojko with a confident smile..<br />
<br />
He eyed her warily.<br />
<br />
It was unlikely that she could do any cumbersome jobs but she could do some tidying up and perhaps even some sorting out of the newly arrived books in the large storeroom upstairs.<br />
<br />
She was a harmless older woman.<br />
<br />
She would make a welcome motherly addition to the ranks.<br />
<br />
"I'm retired you see, and I'm looking for something to do"<br />
<br />
"When can you start?" Peter Lojko asked her with a smile.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Present Day</b></span><br />
<br />
In the intervening three weeks Peter Lojko had become impressed with Margaret O'Reilly.<br />
<br />
In spite of her eccentricity, she could not be faulted.<br />
<br />
She insisted on working five days a week at Earth Hand.<br />
<br />
And she was always in the shop by 9.30 am every morning.<br />
<br />
Regular like clockwork.<br />
<br />
She was dedicated, industrious and efficient.<br />
<br />
And she was so quiet that people often forgot she was even there.<br />
<br />
Margaret O'Reilly remained aloof and non-committal.<br />
<br />
A mystery.<br />
<br />
Peter Lojko watched as Abby Jenkins gave her instructions.<br />
<br />
Jenkins had been working in the shop almost since it opened.<br />
<br />
She was a short and plump woman with dark brown hair forever in a pony tail and small grey eyes.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-pgfM2nxCqWOzDlffAo4EI-ENg6-K79W0TvBMr-uyWML3KBpvEYtd-Q48ivmjbZgW1fHDTJhCvgsSkMyckidcL1Rh7_8nUDw5t0VjyqR_ePQahpGSGnGn02kdEWkUK6Y9jHt-Y2c9Ufw/s1600/Dapple+by+cacodemonic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="365" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-pgfM2nxCqWOzDlffAo4EI-ENg6-K79W0TvBMr-uyWML3KBpvEYtd-Q48ivmjbZgW1fHDTJhCvgsSkMyckidcL1Rh7_8nUDw5t0VjyqR_ePQahpGSGnGn02kdEWkUK6Y9jHt-Y2c9Ufw/s1600/Dapple+by+cacodemonic.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dapple (by cacodemonic deviantart.com)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Abby Jenkins had a learning difficulty and was territorial and obsessive about her work.<br />
<br />
She had devised a system with the books and each one of them was stacked alphabetically into fiction and non-fiction.<br />
<br />
Without asking her, Margaret O'Reilly had rearranged the books and separated them into subjects.<br />
<br />
She had gone over Abby Jenkins head.<br />
<br />
Jenkins threw a fearsome tantrum when she saw what the older woman had done.<br />
<br />
She behaved like a woman possessed<br />
<br />
Margaret O'Reilly hadn't reacted at all.<br />
<br />
It took Peter Lojko over an hour to calm Abby Jenkins down.<br />
<br />
This was the only hiccup since Margaret O'Reilly arrived.<br />
<br />
In fact the dour Irishwoman had made herself indispensable.<br />
<br />
Even bringing in homemade fruit cakes for tea.<br />
<br />
And she was never more enthused than when she was talking about her son.<br />
<br />
The other workers at Earth Hand would gather around her like little chicks around the mother hen.<br />
<br />
The severe Margaret O'Reilly transformed into a storyteller.<br />
<br />
Each one listening to stories about her exemplative son.<br />
<br />
"My little Gustav"<br />
<br />
She never tired of taking out the little faded photograph from her wallet and handing it around.<br />
<br />
It didn't matter how many times she showed it.<br />
<br />
Her eyes would light up and she would talk animatedly for nearly an hour.<br />
<br />
Gustav was the perfect son.<br />
<br />
A chip off his German father's block,<br />
<br />
The apple hadn't fallen far from the tree.<br />
<br />
An Oxford graduate.<br />
<br />
An eminent surgeon.<br />
<br />
Famous all around the globe.<br />
<br />
Out of the little photograph stared a stern looking unsmiling young man with blond hair, sharp features and crisp blue eyes.<br />
<br />
"My little Gustav" Margaret O'Reilly sighed.<br />
<br />
He lived with his father now in Baden Baden, Germany.<br />
<br />
And nobody sought to ask any further.<br />
<br />
Margaret O'Reilly had a strange faraway look in her eyes.<br />
<br />
As if she had been transported.<br />
<br />
Little Gustav.<br />
<br />
"She's a bit of a mystery"<br />
<br />
Ian Hendly had joined Peter Lojko in his observation of Margaret O'Reilly.<br />
<br />
She appeared to working closely with Abby Jenkins now.<br />
<br />
The two were carefully sifting through a box of novels.<br />
<br />
Ian Hendley was a nineteen-year-old media student at the University of Westminster.<br />
<br />
He was tall and gangling with carrot hair and clear blue eyes.<br />
<br />
"I think she's probably lonely" Peter Lojko answered "like a lot of older people who live alone"<br />
<br />
"Well, I tried to speak to her the other day during the lunch break and she barely said a word"<br />
<br />
"She's definitely a ... strange one" Lojko said "I wonder what the deal is with her"<br />
<br />
"She wasted no time in showing me that photograph" Ian Hendley retorted.<br />
<br />
Both men slowly looked at each other.<br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">Three Months Later</span></b><br />
<br />
It was 5 pm.<br />
<br />
Peter Lojko decided to take a quick look around the shop before going upstairs to the storeroom.<br />
<br />
It was immaculate.<br />
<br />
The shelves were gleaming.<br />
<br />
All the books were neatly stacked.<br />
<br />
The hand of Margaret O'Reilly.<br />
<br />
Thinking of the enigmatic Irish woman made Peter Lojko think of his mother.<br />
<br />
Anka Lojko was a small woman with light brown hair and large hazel eyes.<br />
<br />
Her diminutive stature belied her strength of character and unswerving faith in human nature.<br />
<br />
She was devout Catholic with a strong maternal instinct and Peter Lojko could still not believe she had gone.<br />
<br />
Anka Lojko was everywhere.<br />
<br />
A loud commotion suddenly snapped Peter out of his reverie.<br />
<br />
There was a loud crash and the sound of a woman shouting loudly.<br />
<br />
It was the voice of Abby Jenkins.<br />
<br />
Then he remembered.<br />
<br />
Jenkins and Margaret O'Reilly were alone in the storeroom.<br />
<br />
They were supposed to be sorting out the new influx of books before closing.<br />
<br />
The sound of heavy footsteps coming down the steps stomping down the stairs forestalled Peter Lojko's next move.<br />
<br />
Within moments a panting and sweaty Abby Jenkins was standing before him.<br />
<br />
Her eyes were intense and her hair disheveled.<br />
<br />
She looked crazed.<br />
<br />
"She tried to kill me!" Jenkins screamed.<br />
<br />
Peter Lojko stared at her in disbelief.<br />
<br />
"She tried to ... to push me down the stairs ... she just flipped out and went for me after I told her to leave the books to me ..."<br />
<br />
Abby Jenkins was clearly distressed and very shaken.<br />
<br />
But she was a pathological liar who was known to make stories up as effortlessly as she breathed.<br />
<br />
Fact and fiction merged into one.<br />
<br />
Like the books she stacked on the shelves.<br />
<br />
And Peter Lojko couldn't be sure whether it was because of her condition or a predilection to deception.<br />
<br />
But he was distrustful of her tall stories.<br />
<br />
Margaret O'Reilly had appeared quietly behind her.<br />
<br />
She shrugged.<br />
<br />
Peter Lojko looked from Jenkins to O'Reilly.<br />
<br />
Something had obviously happened.<br />
<br />
"Well, what do you have to say?" He asked the older Irishwoman.<br />
<br />
"I don't know what she's talking about" Margaret O'Reilly replied calmly "I was just doing my job"<br />
<br />
"Liar!" Abby Jenkins shrieked "You're a cow and a liar!"<br />
<br />
"Now we won't have any of that!" Lojko said firmly.<br />
<br />
"She wants to take over!" Jenkins railed "She wants to take over the whole shop!"<br />
<br />
Peter Lojko frowned.<br />
<br />
Abby Jenkins was behaving like a child and he would treat her like a child.<br />
<br />
"Come, come" he said softly "let's all be friends"<br />
<br />
"No bloody way!" Jenkins exclaimed "She tried to <i>murder</i> me! Tried to push me down the stairs"<br />
<br />
"Nobody wants to murder anybody" Lojko assured.<br />
<br />
He glanced quickly at Margaret O'Reilly.<br />
<br />
She was too frail to push anyone anywhere.<br />
<br />
Abby Jenkins shot the older Irishwoman a dagger look.<br />
<br />
The older woman stared dumbly back at her.<br />
<br />
Peter Lojko was silent.<br />
<br />
"I ain't staying here no more!" Abby Jenkins shouted and with that, she strode out of the shop.<br />
<br />
Lojko and Margaret O'Reilly watched Jenkins disappear.<br />
<br />
Then he slowly turned to look at the older Irishwoman.<br />
<br />
A fragile looking figure.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRDotsoqeWXfWClB2gW6LSs__pG_SpdGfLHJsZaVPUeRlf6ory64VdWiRzt9XengyNzJenSCDrXrExsQrJlrQuQTmrCAibgwcf6ZMTfGMesWpRNMsW9_8gi3xyYsp2peaNT0uBtrcQJ70/s1600/Spire+I+by+cacodemonic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRDotsoqeWXfWClB2gW6LSs__pG_SpdGfLHJsZaVPUeRlf6ory64VdWiRzt9XengyNzJenSCDrXrExsQrJlrQuQTmrCAibgwcf6ZMTfGMesWpRNMsW9_8gi3xyYsp2peaNT0uBtrcQJ70/s1600/Spire+I+by+cacodemonic.jpg" width="470" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Spire I (by cacodemonic deviantart.com)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
She was just a harmless septuagenarian.<br />
<br />
"That woman is mad" Margaret O'Reilly finally declared.<br />
<br />
Abby Jenkins never returned to Earth Hand.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Two Weeks Later</b></span><br />
<br />
Peter Lojko glanced at his watch again.<br />
<br />
It was 10.15 am.<br />
<br />
And Margaret O'Reilly had still not arrived.<br />
<br />
Usually she was in the shop by 9.30 am: making tea for everyone and quietly looking forward to the day ahead.<br />
<br />
All the other Earth Hand workers were already busy preparing the shop for opening.<br />
<br />
The first customers were due to walk through the door in fifteen minutes time.<br />
<br />
And the absence of the dutiful Margaret O'Reilly was glaring.<br />
<br />
At 1 pm, she had still not arrived and Peter Lojko was getting very concerned.<br />
<br />
So he decided to go looking for the missing Irishwoman.<br />
<br />
Lojko handed over the reigns of management to Ian Hendley and was out of the shop by 1.30 pm.<br />
<br />
Twenty minutes later and Peter Lojko pulled up outside Margaret O'Reilly's small semi-attached house in his little silver Mini.<br />
<br />
63 Belmont Road.<br />
<br />
Lojko's first impression was that the pleasant house was very quiet.<br />
<br />
He rang the house phone before getting out of the car.<br />
<br />
There was no answer.<br />
<br />
He strode up to the green door and rang the door bell.<br />
<br />
But nobody came to the door.<br />
<br />
He peered through the letterbox.<br />
<br />
It looked very still inside.<br />
<br />
No movement.<br />
<br />
The house was empty.<br />
<br />
Peter Lojko checked the piece of paper again.<br />
<br />
63 Belmont Road.<br />
<br />
He let out a long weary sigh.<br />
<br />
Margaret O'Reilly was a puzzle.<br />
<br />
A strange one.<br />
<br />
"Excuse me, are you looking for Margie?"<br />
<br />
An unmistakable Irish accent.<br />
<br />
Peter Lojko turned to see a small older woman in a grey woolen coat.<br />
<br />
She had a round open face, short grey hair and bright green eyes.<br />
<br />
"My name is Aileen Cleary and I live across the road"<br />
<br />
Lojko relaxed.<br />
<br />
"Oh hello, my name is Peter Lojko and I manage the Earth Hand bookshop. I'm just looking for Margaret because she didn't show up today"<br />
<br />
"Oh my dear boy, you don't know ..."<br />
<br />
Lojko frowned.<br />
<br />
"Margie had a massive stroke on Saturday evening but thankfully I was with her ... she was taken to Hemel Hempstead General"<br />
<br />
The bottom of Peter Lojko's world fell out.<br />
<br />
Suddenly two years fell away and racing through the driving rain to get to the hospital.<br />
<br />
His sister's words were racing around his head.<br />
<br />
"It's mom ... she's had a big stroke ... she's in Watford General Hospital ... it looks bad ... please hurry"<br />
<br />
Peter Lojko was in tears as he drove.<br />
<br />
His mother had always been strong and independent but she had been frail and unwell in recents months.<br />
<br />
"She's too young to go!" Lojko exclaimed.<br />
<br />
He could see his mother's face smiling down at him as she gently brushed his face with her warm hand.<br />
<br />
<i>Hail Mary, full of grace. </i><br />
<i>Our Lord is with thee. </i><br />
<i>Blessed art thou among women, </i><br />
<i>and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, </i><br />
<i>Jesus</i><br />
<br />
Tears had filled Peter Lojko's eyes as he stood outside the house of Margaret O'Reilly.<br />
<br />
"Dear boy, why don't you join me for some tea" Aileen Cleary said softly as she placed a hand on his shoulder "My house is only across the road"<br />
<br />
Lojko nodded silently.<br />
<br />
Within ten minutes he was sitting in Aileen Cleary's modest but tasteful living room with its antique furniture.<br />
<br />
She bought in the tea and Bourbon biscuits on a silver tray and poured it from a floral patterned china teapot into floral patterned china teacups.<br />
<br />
Peter Lojko waited until Aileen Clear had settled down.<br />
<br />
She resembled Margaret O'Reilly so much that they could have been sisters.<br />
<br />
"Thank you for the tea" Lojko said.<br />
<br />
"Don't mention it, son" Cleary replied "Visiting hours are from 4 pm and we can go together if you like"<br />
<br />
"I'd like that"<br />
<br />
Peter Lojko was already feeling much better in the company of the kindly Irishwoman.<br />
<br />
"Have you always lived here?" He asked her.<br />
<br />
"Now let me see ... I think it must have been 1975 when Patrick and I moved here and Margie had already been living in her house a year"<br />
<br />
"You're good friends"<br />
<br />
"My dear boy we worked at the Royal Free together as nurses and we became inseparable. My late husband always said we must be twins - two Irish lasses from Dublin!"<br />
<br />
"I'm sorry about your husband"<br />
<br />
"It's been ten years" Aileen Cleary sighed "God rest his soul"<br />
<br />
She looked over at his picture on the mantelpiece.<br />
<br />
A good looking square jawed man with wavy black hair, brown eyes and a fine moustache gazed out.<br />
<br />
"I lost my mother to a massive stroke two years ago" Peter Lojko said sadly.<br />
<br />
"It's still very early, son" Aileen Cleary told him gently as she patted his hand affectionately "God love her - she's in a much better place"<br />
<br />
Lojko smiled sadly.<br />
<br />
He felt like an orphan.<br />
<br />
It was just he and his sister now, against the world.<br />
<br />
The living had become very quiet but for the sound of the large ticking clock.<br />
<br />
Cleary and Lojko silently sipped their tea.<br />
<br />
It was the older Irishwoman who spoke first.<br />
<br />
"She's a dark horse, our Margie"<br />
<br />
A chill ran down Peter Lojko's spine.<br />
<br />
But he didn't know why.<br />
<br />
"I really think that we should contact her son in Germany if they haven't contacted him already" Lojko informed her.<br />
<br />
Her face suddenly fell.<br />
<br />
Aileen Cleary placed her teacup on the silver tray.<br />
<br />
"My dear boy, Gustav has been dead for over thirty years now"<br />
<br />
Peter Lojko felt as if a bucket of cold water had been tipped over his head.<br />
<br />
The room was deathly silent save for the ticking clock.<br />
<br />
Lojko's hands were shaking.<br />
<br />
The teacup tumbled from his hand onto the floor.<br />
<br />
"Oh I am sorry ..." he cried as he jumped up.<br />
<br />
"Don't trouble yourself!" Aileen Cleary cried picked up the fallen teacup and placing it on the silver tray.<br />
<br />
She disappeared into the kitchen and emerged with a little kitchen roll and effortlessly cleared up the tea stained carpet.<br />
<br />
Peter Lojko was picturing Margaret O'Reilly during her lunch break at Earth Hand.<br />
<br />
She was holding court and surrounded by a little audience hanging on her every word.<br />
<br />
She was proudly regaling them with tales about her perfect son.<br />
<br />
"My little Gustav"<br />
<br />
The words rang through Peter Lojko's brain.<br />
<br />
"It was a strange case" Aileen Cleary continued as she settled back in her chair "happened the year after we moved here. Apparently Gustav fell down the stairs and broke his neck"<br />
<br />
Bile rose in Lojko's throat and he fought the urge to retch.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
</div>
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"By the time Margie found him, he was quite blue" Cleary went on "she went a wee bit funny after that"<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfDnzY6ZKcIDrEviufxDq8kf11JaA-xObMicgCEd9gFYSjYkRQHKwrBRLWgkolo9V-KzaWUnmNrRdml0wC_wVZdOCSDjChNyttckKdQ3ipT2DROEJJrfG1oYRz8qGVk8Vj0vQclLR1x3k/s1600/Thorns+by+Spunkii.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfDnzY6ZKcIDrEviufxDq8kf11JaA-xObMicgCEd9gFYSjYkRQHKwrBRLWgkolo9V-KzaWUnmNrRdml0wC_wVZdOCSDjChNyttckKdQ3ipT2DROEJJrfG1oYRz8qGVk8Vj0vQclLR1x3k/s400/Thorns+by+Spunkii.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thorns (by Spunkii deviantart.com)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Lojko's stomach was heaving.<br />
<br />
"Nobody knows how it happened. he fell or was ... who knows"<br />
<br />
Abby Jenkins words were crawling around his brain like a spider.<br />
<br />
"She tried to <i>murder</i> me! Tried to push me down the stairs"<br />
<br />
He squeezed his eyes tightly shut,<br />
<br />
Margaret O'Reilly was just a dotty but harmless older lady.<br />
<br />
"She tried to <i>murder</i> me!"<br />
<br />
<i>No</i><br />
<br />
"Tried to <i>murder</i> me!"<br />
<br />
<i>It can't be true</i><br />
<br />
"Are you sure you're okay, Mr Lojko?" Aileen Cleary asked him with a concerned expression on her face.<br />
<br />
"I'm okay ... I'm okay .. I'm ...."<br />
<br />
<i>I'm going crazy</i><br />
<br />
He took a deep breath.<br />
<br />
"What about the husband?"<br />
<br />
"There is no husband" Aileen Cleary replied "As far as I am aware, Gustav was the result of a fling with a German patient of hers"<br />
<br />
"Hospital patient?"<br />
<br />
"The mental hospital"<br />
<br />
Lojko's hand shot to his mouth.<br />
<br />
<i>She's cracked</i><br />
<br />
"I don't understand ..."<br />
<br />
"Margie worked in a mental hospital before I met her and fell in love with one of the patients. She got pregnant and was so ashamed that she never returned to Ireland and that was why she stayed here"<br />
<br />
The room had begun to spin and little sparks of light were darting across Peter Lojko's eyes.<br />
<br />
"Are you alright, son?" Aileen Cleary asked "You look very pale"<br />
<br />
He sprang to his feet and stumbled out of the living room and lurched towards the bathroom where he vomited into the sink.<br />
<br />
At 4.30 pm Peter Lojko parked his silver Mini in the car park of Hemel Hempstead Hospital.<br />
<br />
He had sufficiently recovered by now but he took a deep breath before following Aileen Cleary out of the car.<br />
<br />
Margaret O'Reilly was full of unexpected surprises.<br />
<br />
Aileen Cleary strode purposefully into the hospital.<br />
<br />
Peter Lojko hurried behind her and as he rushed towards the hospital doors he collided with a young male nurse who was coming out.<br />
<br />
Lojko watched as the medic's file flew into the air and a shower of papers rained down.<br />
<br />
Like confetti.<br />
<br />
Lojko scrabbled to help him.<br />
<br />
"I am so sorry!" He cried as he began to gather up the papers "Please excuse me!"<br />
<br />
That was when Lojko suddenly noticed the young man's face.<br />
<br />
Then he froze as if he had been turned to stone.<br />
<br />
Time had stopped.<br />
<br />
The young man who smiled at him was the same man as the one in Margaret O'Reilly's photograph.<br />
<br />
The same blond hair.<br />
<br />
The same sharp features.<br />
<br />
The same startling blue eyes.<br />
<br />
The same impassive stare.<br />
<br />
"My little Gustav"<br />
<br />
Peter Lojko remained rooted to the spot.<br />
<br />
"Are you alright, sir?" The young male nurse asked "You look like you've just seen a ghost"<br />
<br />
Then everything went black.<br />
<br />
"Mr Lojko! Mr Lojko! Mr Lojko!"<br />
<br />
Peter Lojko stirred.<br />
<br />
Gradually he opened his eyes, squinting at the light.<br />
<br />
He felt completely disoriented.<br />
<br />
It was as if he were waking from a coma.<br />
<br />
Margaret O'Reilly was smiling down at him.<br />
<br />
Peter Lojko was slumped slightly in his leather chair in the storeroom.<br />
<br />
"It's 5 pm, sleepy head!" O'Reilly informed him cheerily "You've been sleeping all afternoon so you have. But don't worry, I looked after the shop for you!"<br />
<br />
"I'm sorry" Lojko groaned as he stretched.<br />
<br />
His body ached and his head felt as if it had been held underwater.<br />
<br />
"Well I can't stand around here talking" Margaret O'Reilly declared "My little Gustav is home again and he's waiting for me"<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUOfHB4PylsTh_ka8dmwtM48UhBjYzuUOdnO4FzlGjUxxsrkT_d9tbVcyxEiuw5JknldDSdORcrEkCkVVBEuRABbynTqLOqKUeOo7lcrTkYgXViT541kwMPgWOtWpiUXYZsHOJXicfv70/s1600/Old+Books+s+by+akethesnake999.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUOfHB4PylsTh_ka8dmwtM48UhBjYzuUOdnO4FzlGjUxxsrkT_d9tbVcyxEiuw5JknldDSdORcrEkCkVVBEuRABbynTqLOqKUeOo7lcrTkYgXViT541kwMPgWOtWpiUXYZsHOJXicfv70/s640/Old+Books+s+by+akethesnake999.jpg" width="428" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Old Books s (by akethesnake999 deviantartcom)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="360" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/IYCfHzlWmSU" width="480"></iframe>Alex Karashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05398068721281907129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7825899785840631460.post-70535920068231908152015-02-11T17:06:00.000-08:002015-02-13T02:13:25.075-08:00Forever Love For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you.<br />
Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning.<br />
Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun,<br />
So shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth.<br />
Like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto himself.<br />
He threshes you to make you naked.<br />
He sifts you to free you from your husks.<br />
He grinds you to whiteness.<br />
He kneads you until you are pliant;<br />
And then he assigns you to his sacred fire, that you may become sacred bread for God's sacred feast<br />
<br />
~ <b>The Prophet</b> by Khalil Gibran<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dandelion rework (by BaxiaArt deviantart.com)</td></tr>
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<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Mark And Nina</b></span><br />
<br />
Perhaps it was a dream.<br />
<br />
The most beautiful dream she had ever had.<br />
<br />
Mark was waiting for her on the beach.<br />
<br />
Tunisia.<br />
<br />
The place they had spent many happy hours walking hand in hand as they strolled along the shore line.<br />
<br />
Time had stopped.<br />
<br />
The sky was a burnished gold.<br />
<br />
Nina and Mark.<br />
<br />
This moment was forever.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhngJrLJuQ-JVcDsTfCSYlzSRmM3_4QJgUD3jBtQne1ckR7bVwF6zWJ0RK2OZp338A-ijxpNvB6lJzzaH3HQCrAX3o3vxrrXYFUCslwyGpFJcIx0zIYH9J5bCrcruYV36F7Cekh7fgnMvY/s1600/A+kiss+by+becoming+death.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhngJrLJuQ-JVcDsTfCSYlzSRmM3_4QJgUD3jBtQne1ckR7bVwF6zWJ0RK2OZp338A-ijxpNvB6lJzzaH3HQCrAX3o3vxrrXYFUCslwyGpFJcIx0zIYH9J5bCrcruYV36F7Cekh7fgnMvY/s1600/A+kiss+by+becoming+death.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A kiss (by becoming death deviantart.com)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Now Nina rose from her bed and opened the window.<br />
<br />
She could see Mark.<br />
<br />
He was waiting for her on the beach.<br />
<br />
Mark waved to her.<br />
<br />
The kindest man she had ever met<br />
<br />
Her life truly began the night she met him in a club in Birmingham.<br />
<br />
He was tall.<br />
<br />
And unmistakably Scandinavian.<br />
<br />
With white-blond hair and the most beautiful blue eyes she had ever seen.<br />
<br />
Mark Sander had the face of an angel.<br />
<br />
And he treated her like a Princess.<br />
<br />
She believed that nothing in life was a coincidence.<br />
<br />
She was meant to meet him that night.<br />
<br />
And from the moment he spoke to her she knew he was the one.<br />
<br />
The moment the beautiful girl smiled at him, Mark Sander knew she was the one.<br />
<br />
Nina Toscano.<br />
<br />
Exotically beautiful.<br />
<br />
Half-Spanish<br />
<br />
With doe eyes and long raven hair.<br />
<br />
She should always have flowers.<br />
<br />
White Oleanders.<br />
<br />
The ones she wore in her hair the day she married him.<br />
<br />
White Oleanders.<br />
<br />
The ones she placed on his grave.<br />
<br />
Everything was white.<br />
<br />
The beach seemed to stretch out forever.<br />
<br />
Nina ran to him.<br />
<br />
Mark was smiling and stretching out his arms to her.<br />
<br />
Nothing else mattered.<br />
<br />
Mark was waiting for her.<br />
<br />
And she had to be with him.<br />
<br />
It was so quiet on the deserted beach.<br />
<br />
So still.<br />
<br />
Only the sound of gentle lapping waves .<br />
<br />
An azure blue sea.<br />
<br />
Sparkling like diamonds.<br />
<br />
And the beating of her heart.<br />
<br />
She was running now.<br />
<br />
Laughing and crying.<br />
<br />
Her long raven hair tumbled behind her.<br />
<br />
Dressed in a beautiful white satin Chloe gown.<br />
<br />
And he dressed in a white Prada suit.<br />
<br />
Looking like a Prince.<br />
<br />
Her Prince.<br />
<br />
Soon everything was going to be alright.<br />
<br />
Mark and Nina locked eyes<br />
<br />
Unable to control their emotions.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
He held her.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb884v848B4v94T_23QMtnGDRBYKmjo6ZgimMBowSOK-ISKnVuTr8JBrq5Rg8LeKCydKrtA1uTsql1qju3kqe-S9i3OWtrDv_68SaTR854qMWLnFsV6OgFLFv-E7KORIVRa09IBQbT23Y/s1600/roses+....+by+BaxiaArt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb884v848B4v94T_23QMtnGDRBYKmjo6ZgimMBowSOK-ISKnVuTr8JBrq5Rg8LeKCydKrtA1uTsql1qju3kqe-S9i3OWtrDv_68SaTR854qMWLnFsV6OgFLFv-E7KORIVRa09IBQbT23Y/s1600/roses+....+by+BaxiaArt.jpg" height="640" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">roses .... (by BaxiaArt deviantart.com)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
And she clung to him.<br />
<br />
"I will never leave you my love" he whispered to her.<br />
<br />
And she knew he meant it.<br />
<br />
It was written on her heart.<br />
<br />
They kissed.<br />
And became one.<br />
<br />
It might have lasted a few moments.<br />
<br />
Or a thousand years.<br />
<br />
But all life was in the kiss.<br />
<br />
Mark cupped Nina's face in his big hands.<br />
<br />
"I will never leave you my love"<br />
<br />
She smiled through her tears.<br />
<br />
"You are everything" Nina told him.<br />
<br />
He took a white rose from his pocket and placed it in her silky hair.<br />
<br />
"You should always have flowers" he said.<br />
<br />
She reached out and gently touched his handsome face.<br />
<br />
They were silhouetted against the burning golden sky.<br />
<br />
Nina and Mark.<br />
<br />
They were in another place.<br />
<br />
Beyond time and space.<br />
<br />
That only lovers traversed.<br />
<br />
Nina and Mark.<br />
<br />
Beautiful together.<br />
<br />
Precious moments written on their hearts.<br />
<br />
Nina stirred.<br />
<br />
Light streamed in through the window.<br />
<br />
When she opened her eyes, she wasn't sure whether she had been dreaming.<br />
<br />
Mark had been with her.<br />
<br />
She could feel him.<br />
<br />
Nina looked out towards the beach.<br />
<br />
It was empty.<br />
<br />
Lonely without him.<br />
<br />
But she could till picture him.<br />
<br />
Tall and handsome.<br />
<br />
In a white Prada suit.<br />
<br />
Like the day she married him.<br />
<br />
Mark Sander.<br />
<br />
Her hero,<br />
<br />
Nina Sander hugged herself against the rising winds.<br />
<br />
She looked at the crystal vase on the ornate bedside table.<br />
<br />
It was filled with white roses.<br />
<br />
And the beautiful white satin Chloe dress was draped across a chair.<br />
<br />
Upon the wall was a picture of Mark.<br />
<br />
Posing beside his red Ferrari.<br />
<br />
The most handsome man she had ever seen.<br />
<br />
Selfless and kind.<br />
<br />
Nina Sander closed her eyes.<br />
<br />
She could see him now.<br />
<br />
He was waiting for her.<br />
<br />
And each day bought her closer to him.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
</div>
Mark Sander was smiling giving her the thumbs up.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQLhhRZiD5i-Gihb5DqmchEpHhvDUfRatoVF6-Z70zGAwl6BCzAIsi8hMGAvD3byuWFEc-_Crim82C3vcDpEHd1xI-HgtE1LofRu_razF6-DMYAu1a3eXCs1IMnYVzWyaPFOIVjACQ5jg/s1600/.....+by+BaxiaArt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQLhhRZiD5i-Gihb5DqmchEpHhvDUfRatoVF6-Z70zGAwl6BCzAIsi8hMGAvD3byuWFEc-_Crim82C3vcDpEHd1xI-HgtE1LofRu_razF6-DMYAu1a3eXCs1IMnYVzWyaPFOIVjACQ5jg/s1600/.....+by+BaxiaArt.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">....(by BaxiaArt deviantart.com)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Like he always did before he got into his racing car.<br />
<br />
She wasn't there the day he left her.<br />
<br />
Nina had been spared his final moments.<br />
<br />
"He knew nothing" they said.<br />
<br />
Killed on impact.<br />
<br />
She could see him now.<br />
<br />
He was beckoning to her.<br />
<br />
Soon.<br />
<br />
Love never dies.<br />
<br />
Nina Sander opened her eyes and the room was full of light.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
</div>
Mark had gone.<br />
<br />
But he had never truly left her.<br />
<br />
He was present in every moment of her life.<br />
<br />
She could feel him.<br />
<br />
She could hear his voice.<br />
<br />
"I will never leave you my love"<br />
<br />
Nina Sander took the photo from the wall and clutched it to her breast.<br />
<br />
"Ah, my love" she sighed.<br />
<br />
Years had gone by.<br />
<br />
Things had changed.<br />
<br />
But things had stayed the same.<br />
<br />
Nina Sander rocked herself gently on the edge of the bed.<br />
<br />
Mark had gone.<br />
<br />
But he had never truly left her.<br />
<br />
And one day they would be together again.<br />
<br />
Mark and Nina.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA7c0wZH5YUDFg9uvt64SETDs5ndgIiyzDi8WpnFfUwgO-g3-GGcTWqUK3l8ZTEDbyYaJ0GrMJ01M5JKHH1O1qo84yLDc0Pdgo8AooXKnqmbK3AstFwebdWkGqo4RVF9u2xfRphLIG4Ws/s1600/why+does+my+heart+feel+so+bad+by+BaxiaArt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA7c0wZH5YUDFg9uvt64SETDs5ndgIiyzDi8WpnFfUwgO-g3-GGcTWqUK3l8ZTEDbyYaJ0GrMJ01M5JKHH1O1qo84yLDc0Pdgo8AooXKnqmbK3AstFwebdWkGqo4RVF9u2xfRphLIG4Ws/s1600/why+does+my+heart+feel+so+bad+by+BaxiaArt.jpg" height="640" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">why does my heart feel so bad (by BaxiaArt deviantart.com)</td></tr>
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="360" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/rOssHP1Rhhs" width="480"></iframe>Alex Karashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05398068721281907129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7825899785840631460.post-6291518035280025922015-01-18T13:04:00.000-08:002015-02-12T14:43:27.924-08:00Where The Evergreens Grow <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The fountains mingle with the river<br />
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And the rivers with the ocean, </div>
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The winds of heaven mix for ever </div>
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With a sweet emotion; </div>
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Nothing in the world is single; </div>
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All things by a law divine<br />
In one spirit meet and mingle. </div>
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Why not I with thine? -</div>
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~ <b>Love's Philosophy</b> by Percy Bysshe Shelley</div>
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Draw me, we will run after thee: the king hath brought me into his chambers: we will be glad and rejoice in thee, we will remember thy love more than wine: the upright love thee.</div>
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~ <b>Song of Songs</b> (King James)</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkZIsPC_wAOxTJ-XrZTprishN_h0TWX9nIxz80IPbvQrnEzgc0gHCMM0U6iqHcDWs4NeUOf9jzHorl03hpCVfz6kLUmgViTeR884PRCTp7d8eZdWM47ZMTREL0sL62mj-mY3L5gAjDTdM/s1600/Rose+Wood+by+nikkichicki.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkZIsPC_wAOxTJ-XrZTprishN_h0TWX9nIxz80IPbvQrnEzgc0gHCMM0U6iqHcDWs4NeUOf9jzHorl03hpCVfz6kLUmgViTeR884PRCTp7d8eZdWM47ZMTREL0sL62mj-mY3L5gAjDTdM/s1600/Rose+Wood+by+nikkichicki.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rose Wood (by nikkichicki deviantart.com)</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b>White Oleanders</b></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Bucklebury, West Berkshire</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">One last look around the house.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The grand Berkshire mansion.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Photographed a million times over by the worlds media.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Home to an adored couple.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Mark and Nina Sander.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The palatal residence was no longer glorious.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">It was a mausoleum now.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Full of memories that echoed through its walls.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Once upon a time a Prince had carried her over the threshold. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">And life was but a dream.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The media.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Vying for them.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">But they no longer camped outside.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">No longer watched or waited. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Poised to capture them.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">To note their every word.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Every gesture.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The handsome racing car champion.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Role model to millions</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">And his captivating wife.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The beautiful couple. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Loved the world over.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The dream couple.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">And their golden world.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">But that was then.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Now there was a ghost in the house.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Nina Sander.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Half-Spanish.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Stylish and elegant.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Graceful.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Lost without him.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Dressed in a simple black Betty Jackson shift dress. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Her glossy raven hair tucked beneath a small black Philip Treacy cap.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Effortlessly beautiful.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">But fragile.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">With hazel large haunted eyes.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The house was too big for her now.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">It was time to say goodbye.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">She stopped in each room.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIlvWp2M-q0jMGBT4G3LWP0b6kVWLXDVMbvk94AhN2VoecB7Ei2LzcEZn4HGRxkZ-Pae4KLUHRey1dUuER4tQqZ-wHUouR0_b9LrznYOrHy3RqjoVE1s2E026ceRzBsJOZvKyE5_f74BI/s1600/Rose+V+by+AgaSilva.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIlvWp2M-q0jMGBT4G3LWP0b6kVWLXDVMbvk94AhN2VoecB7Ei2LzcEZn4HGRxkZ-Pae4KLUHRey1dUuER4tQqZ-wHUouR0_b9LrznYOrHy3RqjoVE1s2E026ceRzBsJOZvKyE5_f74BI/s1600/Rose+V+by+AgaSilva.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rose V (by AgaSilva deviantart.com)</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">One last time. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Every room was filled with memories.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Bitter sweet memories.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The master bedroom.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">It felt so empty now.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Without him.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">And yet he seemed to be everywhere.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The big designer bed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">She could no longer sleep in it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Without him.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Everything hurt.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">It was the little things.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">His smile.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The way he seemed to know what she was thinking.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">His touch.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">His kiss.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The way he held her.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Made her feel safe. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The big designer bed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Silent testament to their love.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">In a large bare room.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Empty.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Without him.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">All the articles of their life together had been taken away..</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Nina Sander could still hear his laugh as it rang through the house.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">There was so much love for him.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">She paused in the nursery.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Little Oliver.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">It was where he had lived so briefly.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The most beautiful baby Nina had ever seen.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">With the face of an angel.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Just like his father,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">And now he was an angel.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The empty cot still stood beside the window.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">A silent testimony to Oliver's short life.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Tears filled Nina's eyes.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">She closed the door quietly behind her. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">And now she wept for the life that might have been.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">She wept for her husband.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">And the life she might have shared with him.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">He had left her.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">And yet he had never really gone.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Nina could feel Mark everywhere.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">He was a part of her.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Somewhere she heard a baby cry.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"Oliver!" She cried.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Nina ran through the house.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"Oliver!"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">She ran down the curling stairway. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Her mother was standing at the large door to the house.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Holding the baby in her arms.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The golden haired baby.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Nina's sorrow turned to joy.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Baby Mark.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Mark Jr.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">With his fathers stunning blue eyes.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Nina had conceived him just before her husband was killed in a racing car accident.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">They said it was quick.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">They said Mark had died instantly.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">That he knew nothing.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">They said that before he got in the car, he had vowed to give it all up and devote the rest of his life to her and the family they were going to have.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Then he died.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">He left the room.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">And Nina Sander discovered that she was expecting his child.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">A part of him was growing inside her.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Living on through her.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The first time she ever held her son, she saw her husband's face.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Mark had gone.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">But he had never truly left. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">She named the child after him.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">And Mark Jr was so much like his father.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Kind and brave.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Now Nina ran to her baby.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">He was crying.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">And she had to be with him.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">She took the child from her mother and grasped him for dear life.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"Hush now, hush now" Nina said softly.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">And the baby quietened.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">And she could hear Mark's voice.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"I will never leave you my love"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">They were waiting for her.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The movers had taken everything.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Her new house was waiting for her.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">A new Berkshire homestead.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Modest but grand.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Among the evergreens.</span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Serene.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">A home for her and the child.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">As the sleek black limousine pulled away, Nina said one last goodbye to the magnificent abode that had once been her home.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">She clutched her child as her mother held her hand.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">A new chapter was beginning.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Nina had determined not to remarry.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Mark Sander had been her true love.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Her only love.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">And she would do right by him.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1fBBsRO-qbENz3vPza6lL1SNLXNvNxCGzP08QyUX9I3CVnWqySvL_wrBE5b0fWQXfF5hHlP_l0AaupcNdFzvwweYfEFEC7pEfsy7zhsViVfMgPg1A2cJtAxDVeSyR6ZbJ1fyWUTLRx6s/s1600/longing+by+someonesaid.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1fBBsRO-qbENz3vPza6lL1SNLXNvNxCGzP08QyUX9I3CVnWqySvL_wrBE5b0fWQXfF5hHlP_l0AaupcNdFzvwweYfEFEC7pEfsy7zhsViVfMgPg1A2cJtAxDVeSyR6ZbJ1fyWUTLRx6s/s1600/longing+by+someonesaid.jpg" height="640" width="438" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">longing (by someonesaid deviantart.com)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">She would bring up the boy.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">And one day as she believed, she would see Mark again.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">But until then she would live her life.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">And visit his grave.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Placing white oleanders.</span><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Like the ones she wore in her hair the day they married.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"You look absolutely beautiful" Mark had told her that day.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">And now she placed the flowers on his grave.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">And she would continue to do so for the rest of her days.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">No one would ever be able to compare to him.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Men came and went.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Each one wanted to make her his own.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">But Nina belonged to Mark.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">And when they asked her why she never wavered.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">She informed them it was because Mark had gone.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">But he had never truly left her.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">He was everywhere.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">He was in her son.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">He was inside her.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">He was in the flowers.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Mark Sander was still alive.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">And he was the only man for her.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Nina would watch Mark Jr grow in a tall and handsome man like his father.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">With the same white-blond hair and startling blue eyes.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">He was a gentleman just like his father.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">And Mark Jr wanted to make his daddy proud.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">So he became an athlete.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">An Olympic gold medalist.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Nobody could outrun him.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">He was like a flash of lightening.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">And when Mark Jr spoke with pride about his celebrated father.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">His great inspiration.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">His reason for being.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">And they said he resembled him.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">As Nina quietly observed and wiped away her silent tears.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Mark had gone.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">But he hadn't really left her.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">He was there in his son.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">He was inside her.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">And when Mark Jr married a beautiful Spanish model named Inés Sofia Aldana, they said that she was exactly like his mother.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Dark and lovely.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Elegant and graceful.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Just like Nina.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">They said that Inés and Nina could be sisters.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Time could not wither Nina Sander.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">As beautiful as ever.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">With her sparkling hazel eyes.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Aristocratic looks.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Her raven hair piled high upon her head.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Nina Sander was a vision of loveliness. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">She watched at the lavish wedding reception in Hawaii, as Mark Jr danced with Ines.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">They were both dressed in white.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Just like she and Mark had been when they married.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">She watched as her son danced with his wife.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Watched by an adoring world.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">And it was as if she were looking at herself and Mark again.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Time evaporated.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">As they glided across the floor. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Only love mattered. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Then Mark Jr danced with his mother.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">And as Nina looked up into the captivating blue eyes of her son, it was as if she were looking into the eyes of her husband.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"I will never leave you my love"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Tears ran down her face.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Mark had gone.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">But he had never really left her.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Time had stopped.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">It was obsolete.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Nina was dancing with Mark again.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Love had conquered everything.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">It was a golden world.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Full of promise. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Sometimes Mark Jr caught his mother looking out at the sky.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Watching the sunset.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwaZbBBKy2-VYFk0lF0yJ7tPOw-b1chcNBRL9_lYBg6YGD4o_eFVDyyVyEPfr69PFQKiFFu1cK-6IkFuwq0FsJCfjfiR1Uh6bMmo8WNHDMb0M0Kc9_6pJUDRgWxeQF8338zA0Hfn_hWnE/s1600/rose+by+AgaSilva.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwaZbBBKy2-VYFk0lF0yJ7tPOw-b1chcNBRL9_lYBg6YGD4o_eFVDyyVyEPfr69PFQKiFFu1cK-6IkFuwq0FsJCfjfiR1Uh6bMmo8WNHDMb0M0Kc9_6pJUDRgWxeQF8338zA0Hfn_hWnE/s1600/rose+by+AgaSilva.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">rose (by AgaSilva deviantart.com)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">And he knew what she was thinking.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">His father had gone.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">But he never really left them. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Now Nina retreated to her beautiful Berkshire home</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Where the evergreens grew.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">To walk bare foot.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">And to write and paint.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">They no longer camped outside.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The media no longer fought over her.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">They admired her from afar now.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">She lived quietly in her beautiful house.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Sometimes they came for her.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">They remarked upon her beauty.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Her graciousness.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Time had frozen.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Mark Sander was still with them.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b>Epilogue</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">One day a reporter found Nina in </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Bucklebury cemetery. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">It was late afternoon.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Howie Stone.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Adept reporter. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">With his photographer - Matt Price.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
Stone silently observed her from a short distance with his companion. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Nina Sander,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Beautiful in white satin.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Christian Dior.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The beautiful widow. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">A raven haired vision of loveliness in the dying autumn light. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">She knelt beside his grave and lay a bouquet of white oleanders upon it. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Mark Sander.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">And there she lingered for long moments.</span><br />
<br />
Affectionately touching the headstone.<br />
<br />
Head bowed.<br />
<br />
In silent communion.<br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">And Howie Stone was momentarily lost for words.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The child of Mark and Nina Sander was buried just a few feet away.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">He and his companion watched the scene from afar.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Time had stopped. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Nina Sander.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">So beautiful.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">So tragic.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Finally Howie Stone composed himself.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">And approached her.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">She was gracious.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">He asked her some carefully prepared questions.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">And she responded.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">And his companion photographed her.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">She was so beautiful.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">He was in awe.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Mark Sander had been the reporters idol.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Never missed a race as a kid. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Howie Stone missed him.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Mark Sander had left a big hole in his life.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Never to be replaced.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">And Nina Sander just knew.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">He didn't need to say a word.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">She just knew. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The beautiful widow.</span><br />
<br />
Had the grief become easier.<br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
Had it become easier.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The grief.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">What was life like.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Without him ...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Nina Sander listened.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Beautiful in white satin.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">And she smiled.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Warmly. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"Mark has gone" Nina replied "but he has never really left me"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The reporter fought the tears that sprang to his eyes.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">He understood. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">And all the while Nina Sander smiled.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">A little blue bird had started singing above them on the branch of a tree.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Nina Sander was looking right into his soul. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Beautiful in white satin</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Mark had gone.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">But he had never truly left.</span><br />
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtYxDjSvywMIaw-0jLQtdq5Bk2oQoONiEJBv7fQJ3ya5CEJrfFCrwITrZtZnRDXfhyphenhyphen4h0oE9pxzpCMpHsHFDkbkbmyqKTkxwZVTiNVBnIC3eEFbtMGz5Uw5Qo9ETVIUNLk40yDQsOGuUY/s1600/Autumn-Sunset.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtYxDjSvywMIaw-0jLQtdq5Bk2oQoONiEJBv7fQJ3ya5CEJrfFCrwITrZtZnRDXfhyphenhyphen4h0oE9pxzpCMpHsHFDkbkbmyqKTkxwZVTiNVBnIC3eEFbtMGz5Uw5Qo9ETVIUNLk40yDQsOGuUY/s1600/Autumn-Sunset.jpeg" height="640" width="452" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Autumn Sunset</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="360" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/pgj1Q5Dl2IA" width="480"></iframe></span></div>
Alex Karashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05398068721281907129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7825899785840631460.post-60231505772853443432015-01-02T18:12:00.000-08:002017-06-19T04:21:49.420-07:00The Flower Of My Heart See the mountains kiss high heaven<br />
And the waves clasp one another;<br />
No sister-flower would be forgiven<br />
If it disdained its brother;<br />
And the sunlight clasps the earth,<br />
And the moonbeams kiss the sea;<br />
What are all these kissings worth,<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">If thou kiss not me</span><br />
</span> <br />
<h4>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #111111;"><div>
<div style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 23px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">~ </span>Love's Philosophy <span style="font-weight: normal;">by Percy Bysshe Shelley</span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 23px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br />
</span></span></div>
<span style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 23px;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I sat down under his shadow with great delight, and his fruit was sweet to my taste. He brought me to the banqueting house, and his banner over me was love. Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples: for I am sick of love. His left is under my head and his right hand doth embrace me.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 23px;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 23px;">~ </span><span style="line-height: 23px;">Song of Solomon</span><span style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 23px;"> 2 4-6 (King James)</span></div>
</span> </h4>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxK1od1jLN7mhhSG3kOqfkm6xl_Gq3sZFVdMZg_2VaVpSgIqSm8KI_27EeYFr18YImKtUju_FipbJyGlM-S9MXnQ4IdobwbC0hCHnj900nOeM03oavAJdUDg3lF9y4IIPGKvJ1L-5tX90/s1600/One+rose+by+biljana1313.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxK1od1jLN7mhhSG3kOqfkm6xl_Gq3sZFVdMZg_2VaVpSgIqSm8KI_27EeYFr18YImKtUju_FipbJyGlM-S9MXnQ4IdobwbC0hCHnj900nOeM03oavAJdUDg3lF9y4IIPGKvJ1L-5tX90/s1600/One+rose+by+biljana1313.jpg" width="462" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One rose by( biljana1313 deviantart.com)</td></tr>
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<br />
<b><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The Last Dance</span></span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></b> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Bucklebury, West Berkshire</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Nina Sander must have been walking for hours.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">But she had lost track of time.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">It was dusk now.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">She leaned against a tree.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Nina Sander closed her eyes to shut out the pain.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Memories were tumbling over themselves in her mind.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Bitter sweet memories. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Nina was twenty-three again.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Petite and exotic looking in a little black Betty Jackson shift dress.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Her dark hair tumbling about her shoulders. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">And she was sitting alone at the bar in a club in Birmingham.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The Summarrow; the ultimate luxury clubbing destination. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Nina had left her lively girlfriends at their table.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Unable to hide her sadness any longer.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Now Nina was copiously wiping away her tears and trying hard to forget the man who had rejected her.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">And she was losing the battle.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Can I buy you a drink?" A sweetly accented voice asked her.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Those were the first words he ever spoken to her.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Nina turned to see a tall man.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">6 ft. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Lean and athletic.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Scandinavian looking with white-blond hair.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">He was boyishly handsome with an open face and the clearest blue eyes she had ever seen.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Then he smiled at her.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">And Nina knew with all certainty that she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">It was simple. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"I don't drink ..." Nina said quickly looking bashfully away "my girlfriends thought they could coax me out for the night ... "</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"This is the worst place to be alone" the man said as he grabbed a stool and sat beside her.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">His warm voice was reassuring.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Suddenly Nina felt completely safe.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">She was glad he was there. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Sorry to pry but you look like you've been crying" the man added gently.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">There was a sincere note of concern in his voice.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Nina looked up at him with big tragic eyes.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">There was an earnest expression on his handsome face.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"It's a <i>man</i> ... what else could it be?" Nina answered trying to soften the edge in her voice.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">She was trying desperately hard to the stem the flow of tears that were filling her eyes.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">But the tears kept falling anyway.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Sorry" he said simply.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">And she knew that he meant it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The couple fell silent for several moments.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">There was a note of expectancy between them.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The young man noticed how warm Nina's hazel eyes were.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">And how vibrant her olive complexion was and how lustrous her dark hair was.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Her pouting rose-bud lips were full.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">She was as fragile and innocent as a May flower.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">As exotic as a jasmine flower.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">And she looked like a little lost girl.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The young man's heart skipped a beat.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Suddenly he wanted to be her knight in shining armour.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">He wanted to protect her.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">To kill dragons for her.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">And take her to live in his big castle.</span><br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Suddenly this alluring creature was the woman he had been waiting for all his life.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">This tragic beauty was the woman he was going to marry.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Nina could feel the man looking intently at her.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">And she liked it very much.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">His gaze was suddenly very precious to her.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"My name is Nina" she said "Nina Toscano ... I'm half Spanish"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCUNIgTHOB2lVTBl2hovF-c6EQE946JK894-6OQIL1WPQcGVfZpYKDKz5eMrlx99BOfaOzW4cgZhDk7SExTnMeM4JvBly0H2PKQEw6YBgs2SAUi992zvQ44Vv-iDMAeA72n6mM2GW1FJM/s1600/papaveri_by_absinth88.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCUNIgTHOB2lVTBl2hovF-c6EQE946JK894-6OQIL1WPQcGVfZpYKDKz5eMrlx99BOfaOzW4cgZhDk7SExTnMeM4JvBly0H2PKQEw6YBgs2SAUi992zvQ44Vv-iDMAeA72n6mM2GW1FJM/s1600/papaveri_by_absinth88.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">papaveri (by absinth88 deviantart.com)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">She tentatively held out her hand and he took it gently.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">His big hand was was firm and warm.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">When he looked at her, it was as if he was looking right into her soul.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Nina's heart was racing.</span><br />
<br />
He held her hand for the longest time.<br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Great!" He answered jovially "My name is Mark ... and I'm half Swedish!"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">They both giggled together.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Suddenly it all seemed absurd.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">And Nina's tears were already a memory.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">They were destined to meet.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">It was written in the stars. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"You see ... you <i>can</i> laugh!" Mark pointed out cheerfully.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">By the end of the evening Nina Toscano had forgotten about her treacherous lost love.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">And that was how it all began.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Do you <i>know</i> who he is?" Sara Romero asked Nina one evening. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Romero was half Spanish like her friend and she was an engaging brunette with large green eyes and an infectious laugh. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Sara had known Nina since they were toddlers.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">They were curled up on the sofa in her smart Maida Vale flat. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Take a look at this" Sara said opening a glossy magazine and handing it to her friend.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Essentials Magazine.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Nina's eyes widened.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The article was about <i>him</i>.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Mark Sander the handsome Formula One champion is winning hearts in Sand Diego as he enjoys a brief holiday before preparing for the San Moreno Grand Prix. There was no shortage of admirers as Sander sunbathed beside the pool at The Grand Del Mar hotel. "He's a gentlemen" a star struck holidaymaker informed Glitter magazine "He's so cute and polite" The 6ft sportsman is one of the most eligible bachelors today and has already entered the hall of fame.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Nina was smiling now.</span><br />
<br />
There was a picture of Mark Sander.<br />
<br />
Black Gucci sunglasses.<br />
<br />
Black Speedo swimming trunks<br />
<br />
Tanned and muscled.<br />
<br />
Sipping a cocktail beside the pool.<br />
<br />
Nina was lost for words.<br />
<br />
She could barely contain her excitement.<br />
<br />
"I think you've found your Prince" Sara Romero declared.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Nina had no idea that Mark Sander was a famous racing car driver.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The realisation had taken her totally by surprise.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">He was so unaffected.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Mark was just the most handsome man she had ever seen.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The kindest man she had ever met.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">And shortly after he called her.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">And a new world opened up for them.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">They spent hours talking to each other.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">It felt as if they had always known each other.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Everything fit together.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Mark Sander treated Nina Toscano with the utmost circumspection and respect.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">He was a gentleman. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">And he was ushering her into a privileged world that she had never known before.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">A world she only ever dreamed about.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Saw in the movies. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">On the TV.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">In magazines.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Suddenly it was her world too.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">And it took her by surprise.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Before she knew it, Nina Toscano was caught up in a whirlwind.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">They were the couple of the time.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">They were mobbed. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Photographed everywhere.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">They waited for her at her London beauty salon.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Bonita. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Her old life was gone.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Nina Toscano began to see her picture in magazines and newspapers.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">She could hardly believe it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">It was like a dream. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The media interest was intense.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Worldwide. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">There were endless TV appearances and interviews.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">And soon Nina was attending glittering parties and movie premier's on Mark's arm.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">People wanted to speak to her.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">They admired and envied her.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Nina's life had been turned upside down.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Every girl dreamed about marrying a Prince.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">And it seemed that Nina really had.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Mark Sander was the most selfless man she had ever met.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">He bought her parents a house in Highgate Wood..</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">And he helped her sister Marianna set up her own travel business.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">He showered her with presents.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Delighting in her joy. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">There was nothing he would not do.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"I've never been so happy" Nina told him one night.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">They were on the balcony of his luxury Chelsea flat.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The whole of London glittered before them down below.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">There was a full moon that night.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"People love me for who they think I am" he replied "they love Mark Sander the racing car driver. But you love me for who I really am"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">They were soul mates. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">They made love for the first time in a hotel in Paris. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Mark had been holding off.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Until it felt right.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The perfect timing.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">They made love in a huge bed. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">In an opulent hotel room.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Champs Elysees Plaza Hotel.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">A Parisian palace.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">They sealed their love.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">And barely left the hotel room for three days. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Mark Sander was the perfect lover.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Nina Toscano wept with joy as she nuzzled her face into his taut and muscled chest.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">She had never tasted ecstasy like this before.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The couple dreamed about their future together.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The kids they would have.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Life could not be sweeter. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Fame cocked a snoop at Mark and Nina's private life together.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">And she took it all in her stride.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Because with Mark at her side, Nina felt completely invincible.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">She clung to him.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">She clung to him as they ran through the streets of Paris to their limousine as camera's flashed away and reporters vied for their attention.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">She clung to him as they walked down the red carpet at the Oscars ceremony. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">And she clung to him at the funeral of his beloved father in Sweden.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">She shared his grief like no other. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">And now Nina Sander clung to her better-sweet memories.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Each precious to memory.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Not even the beauty of her surroundings could shake Nina from her reverie tonight.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">She was trying to assuage the growing ache deep down in the pit of her heart.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">But she was losing the battle.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Everything hurt like a physical wound.</span><br />
<br />
It smote her.<br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The whole of time began the moment Nina Toscano met Mark Sander at The Summerrow. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">And the whole of time ended when ...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">It was getting colder now.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Nina hugged herself against the rising winds.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">She ached for him.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Memories.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Nina was lying in Mark's arms beneath the old oak tree.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"I think I'd die if I lost you" she said.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The dying light had cast his handsome face with a golden glow.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Then why don't you marry me?" Mark replied with a smile.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Really?" Nina said excitedly.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Will you be my wife?" He asked her.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"I will!" She answered him.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Then they kissed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"We were meant to be together"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Everything was beautiful. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Nina stared at the spot where they had lain that night.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Sweet memories.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Mark bent down and picked a daisy.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The symbol of purity and innocence. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Then Mark gently placed the flower in her hair.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"You are utterly beautiful" he whispered in her ear.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Mark took her hand and they walked hand-in-hand to the waiting limousine.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Nina smiled when she saw daisies growing beneath the tree.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Tears filled her eyes.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"How can they still keep growing?" She whispered.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Didn't they know?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i><br />
</i>She closed her eyes.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Mark was making love to her in his big bed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Nina was transported.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Every erotic love play drew her deeper into him.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">And even now Nina could still taste Mark in her mouth.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">She could still smell Mark.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">On every inch of her body.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">He was under her skin.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">He was a part of her.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">She could still feel his warm touch.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh52vYtwQjV1q8QIvSlQxpcDSylA0xiko20Pw5j4TEpKRnLNekihJ_cItry4ItJ6D86wt43QXMK5VkdTOOlLNEh5Q9jdZOr7NykAo4-PaEAlBjlakyI_cotNmgZJ5sRveD46WmYHCbkzzQ/s1600/Kissby+Teddy-bear1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh52vYtwQjV1q8QIvSlQxpcDSylA0xiko20Pw5j4TEpKRnLNekihJ_cItry4ItJ6D86wt43QXMK5VkdTOOlLNEh5Q9jdZOr7NykAo4-PaEAlBjlakyI_cotNmgZJ5sRveD46WmYHCbkzzQ/s1600/Kissby+Teddy-bear1.jpg" width="512" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kiss (by Teddy-bear1 deviantart.com)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The big firm grip of his hands.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">His muscled chest.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The white-blond hair as it fell across his brow. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">She could still see his beautiful smile.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">And hear his heart beating.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Nina lay on the ground beneath the tree.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Where they had once lain together.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The ground was sodden and damp.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Nina Sander opened up her arms.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Like Jesus on the cross.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">She surrendered. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Sweet memories.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Mark and Nina.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Running barefoot through the lapping waves on the day of their wedding in Maui.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Laughing together. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">They were both dressed in immaculate white.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Nina was a vision of loveliness in an elegant silk Chloe wedding dress.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">She was holding a bouquet of pure white rose and her</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> dark tresses were piled high upon her head with white oleanders in her hair.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Mark was a picture of dashing elegance in his pristine white Prada suit.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">They were like a couple of angels.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">And it was a brave new world. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Everything was brand new.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Pure and white.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Like the sand.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The sand the couple tumbled into as hundreds of cameras flashed around them and wedding guests and admirers cheered them on.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"We love you!" They cried. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The whole world was sharing in Mark and Nina's joy.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">And they wanted to share their happiness with everyone.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The beach was crowded with hundreds of people clapping and cheering.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">But Mark and Nina were lost in each other.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">They only had eyes for each other.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Nina had said a little prayer.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">In Sacred Hearts Mission Church.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">She was counting every blessing.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Because her life was so beautiful now.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">One moment she was running a little beauty salon in Notting Hill and the next she was a media darling with the most eligible bachelor in sport. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">A man with a huge following. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">A role model to countless people. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The whole world seemed to be at Nina's feet. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Thank you" She whispered in the quiet church. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">She had stepped off the roller-coaster.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">All was still. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Nina Sander could still feel the peace she felt that day.</span><br />
The fountains mingle with the river<br />
<div>
And the rivers with the ocean, </div>
<div>
The winds of heaven mix for ever </div>
<div>
With a sweet emotion</div>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Now she saw herself racing through the lapping waves with Mark.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">They were laughing.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">And everyone was laughing with them.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The entire world was on the beach that day.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">That night they stood on the balcony of their luxury hotel suite and Mark Sander looked deeply into the eyes of his new bride.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"You look absolutely beautiful" He said.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> Then he kissed her tenderly.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The sun was setting.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Mark led Nina over to the big silken bed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"I want this moment to last forever" she said.</span><br />
<br />
It was perfect.<br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Now Nina's eyes filled with tears at the sweet memory.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">A large crow suddenly squawked loudly as it flew overhead.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">And she was taken back in time.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Nina was watching the race at the <span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;"><i>Formula One World Championship</i>. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;"><br />
</span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;">She had already seen Mark give the thumbs up.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;"><br />
</span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;">Nina was sitting with the other wives in the stalls.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;">She was wearing a purple cotton Christian Dior dress. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;"><br />
</span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;">And Nina could barely speak because she was so tense. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;">The other woman seemed to be taking everything in their stride as they talked animatedly among themselves and looked out for their loved ones. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;">But Nina Sander was not like them.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;">She could never relax until she knew Mark was okay.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;">Until he was in full view.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;">Until she saw his handsome smiling face before he put on his helmet.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;">Until he gave her the sign that everything was okay.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;">Only then could she settle.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;"><br />
</span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;">The loud vibrating noise of the racing cars that sounded like thunder in the streets.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;"><br />
</span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;">The smell of diesel.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;"><br />
</span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;">The mounting sense of high expectations.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;">It was the breath of life to Mark Sander.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;">But it frightened Nina. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;"><br />
She sat</span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;"> restlessly in the stalls with the other wives.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;">Her almond-shaped eyes feverishly searching for her husband.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;">And a red and white Ferrari. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;">Then she saw him.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;">Mark Sander grinned broadly.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;">He gave Nina the thumbs up. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;">"I love you!" Mark mouthed. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;">Nina blew him a kiss. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;"><br />
</span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;">Today she was particularly anxious.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;"><br />
</span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;">Her hands were protectively cupping her swollen belly. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;"><br />
</span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;">She was heavily pregnant.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;">Carrying their child.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="line-height: 19.1875px;">The fruit of their love.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="line-height: 19.1875px;">The baby had been stirring and discomfort had been steadily mounting all day. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="line-height: 19.1875px;"><br />
</span><span style="line-height: 19.1875px;">Before the end of the race Nina was already in a private hospital in London.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="line-height: 19.1875px;">The Portland Hospital.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="line-height: 19.1875px;"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="line-height: 19.1875px;">They had taken good care of her. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="line-height: 19.1875px;">Smiling faces.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="line-height: 19.1875px;"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="line-height: 19.1875px;">The nurses encircled Nina as she groaned and writhed on the hospital bed.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="line-height: 19.1875px;">The agony and the ecstasy. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="line-height: 19.1875px;">"You're doing great, Mrs Sander!" Nurse Judy Gray informed her "Just a little push!" </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="line-height: 19.1875px;"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="line-height: 19.1875px;">The scream came from somewhere deep within her.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="line-height: 19.1875px;"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="line-height: 19.1875px;">Fading into the sound of a new born baby's cry. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="line-height: 19.1875px;"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="line-height: 19.1875px;">And the squawk of a black bird. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;">Nina stared up at the noisy bird as it let out another shrill cry.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;">Perched on a spindly branch.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;">It stared down at her with its nonchalant eye. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;"><br />
</span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;">The bird of ill omen.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;">Portent of doom. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;">Then she remembered.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;"><br />
</span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;">Mark being interviewed after the race.</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;">Questions were being fired by enthusiastic journalists and camera's were flashing from all directions.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;">It was half an hour into the press conference.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;">Ryan Lewis, Mark's capable PA, promptly entered the room and whispered into his ear. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;">It was news of great portent and the champion racing car driver gave a yelp of victory. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;"><br />
</span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;">"I'm sorry to cut the party short, ladies and gentlemen!" Mark unexpectedly announced "But now I am going to go home to my wife and our new baby boy!" </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;">A cheer arose from the press.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;">Mark Sander was beside himself with joy.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;">That evening he held baby Oliver in his arms for the first time.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;">The couple were back in their Berkshire mansion. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;">And life was sweet.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;">"He's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen" Nina declared as she lay curled up on the white leather sofa.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;">Still exhausted from the exertion of childbirth. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;">"Beautiful like his mother" Mark Sander replied.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;">Then he handed the child to Lucia, the maid. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;">Nina looked so drawn and fragile.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;">Mark took his wife in his arms.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;"><br />
</span></span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;">"Our family is complete" he said. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;"><br />
</span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;">Nina closed her eyes again.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;">The sky had darkened and the ominous black bird had flown away with a piercing screech. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;"><br />
</span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;">Bitter memories<i>.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Let him go" Mark urged her gently.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">But Nina Sander refused to give up her child.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">He had only lived for three months. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Little Oliver. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">He would never be forgotten. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Nina was sitting on the edge of the bed and gently rocking herself and the dead baby in her arms.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">But her eyes were fixed straight ahead.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">As if in a trance.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Their beloved son could not have wanted for more.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">But they had still found him dead in his cot.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Little Oliver looked as if he were sleeping.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Only sleeping. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Nina was overwrought.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Not even</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> gentle Lucia the maid could soothe her. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Only Mark could reach her.</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Nina had not stopped tormenting herself over little Oliver's tragic end.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">She blamed herself. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"I should never have left him alone!" Nina kept repeating </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"It's all <i>my</i> fault"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Mark gently removed the child from Nina's grasp.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">And the waiting medic quietly took away her baby.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Forever. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Then Mark gathered his distraught wife up in his big arms.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Nina watched over his shoulder as they took her son away.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Little Oliver. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">She clung to her husband.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Promise me that you'll <i>never</i> leave me!" Nina urged him.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"I will never leave you my love" Mark Sander assured her.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Gradually the nursery had become full of family members and friends.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Mark's mother Lottie had flown over from Stockholm in Sweden.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Nina's parents, Charity and Santiago Toscano had flown over from Álora in Spain. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Mariana was standing beside Sara Romero and her partner Mickey Carter. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">And there were countless other family members and friends crowding into the bright yellow nursery room with its little rocking horses and mountain of teddy bears. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">All grieving for little Oliver. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Nina Sander would never forget the face of her son.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">It was burned into her soul.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The memory of his smile.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The bright blue eyes of his father. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">As they lowered his tiny white coffin into the ground. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">As Nina clung to her husband.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">On that sad day. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Nina Sander was inconsolable. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Little Oliver had gone.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">But he hadn't really left them. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The pain of his loss engulfed Nina like a tidal wave.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">She </span>rose from the ground and for several moments she stood looking up at the <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">starle<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">s<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">s</span> sky</span></span>.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The m<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">oon had risen in a starless sky<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">.</span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">How lonely she looked. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Like Nina Sander.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">An isolated figure against a tragic sky.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The sad face of the moon. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">She must know how it felt. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The ancient graveyard looked so peaceful illuminated by the moonlight.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo4ntk-5qkw-8amHafN5wdnXIcDwwu5CEKz2h1RHOztlGFV9VCMMTCIGjdZslMT4yFCcV-K6fCVFv19QDj4jB9Yci_T_l0VWVHITllJocuNQQDrzebRMPYSHmiEY8gSuNCdyIljeJp7yc/s1600/Audi+Heineken+Formula+One+by+motionmedia.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo4ntk-5qkw-8amHafN5wdnXIcDwwu5CEKz2h1RHOztlGFV9VCMMTCIGjdZslMT4yFCcV-K6fCVFv19QDj4jB9Yci_T_l0VWVHITllJocuNQQDrzebRMPYSHmiEY8gSuNCdyIljeJp7yc/s1600/Audi+Heineken+Formula+One+by+motionmedia.jpg" width="372" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Audi Heineken Formula One (by motionmedia deviantrt.com)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">It beckoned to her.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Called to her. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">And Nina Sander obeyed. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">She walked towards the graveyard as the day she walked towards Mark Sander in the beautiful church.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">She could see him now.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Standing beside his best man, Jake Aaker.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Mark was like the Prince in a fairy tale.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Handsome and brave.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Then Nina saw herself dancing with Mark to Louis Armstrong.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">We Have All The Time in The World.</span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Eternity stretched out before them.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Mark was holding Nina close and looking deeply into her eyes.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Their souls were dancing too as they glided gracefully across the floor.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">He spun her around and around.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">And their audience erupted into cheers and terms of endearment.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The wedding party was carrying them along on a great tidal wave of love.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">But Mark and Nina only had eyes for each other.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">How she longed to dance with him again.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">To be held in his arms.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">To look once again into his beautiful eyes.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Such as the night of their last dance.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Alone in their beautiful Berkshire palace three days before ...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Just three days ...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">It was the last dance.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Roberta Flack.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face. </span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Time had stopped.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">It had become obsolete. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Love was all that mattered.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Now Nina Sander walked through the graveyard.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">She walked past endless gravestones and memorials stretching through time.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">People of the past.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The fragrance of countless flowers filled the night air.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Flowers placed upon the graves.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The aroma of love. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">All was peaceful.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">All was still.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Somehow Nina Sander had anticipated it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Perhaps it was because Mark had insisted on racing this time.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">That Nina had begged him not to do it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">But he was daring and courageous.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Mark Sander had wanted to ride the <i>Grand Prix</i> one more time. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Before retiring. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The smile on his handsome face.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The look in his shining blue eyes.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">They had kissed so passionately on the steps.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">And she would not let him go. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"I will never leave you my love" Mark Sander whispered to her.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">And then he was away.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Pausing at the limousine.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">As if something were pulling him back.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Mark turned and bounded back to Nina on the steps of their beautiful palace.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Nina was crying with joy.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">As Mark spun her around and around.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">And they kissed each other over and over again.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Their golden world.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Mark had paused before getting into the limousine, as if something were pulling him back.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i><br />
</i>Then he gave her one last look.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">His eyes calling out to her.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">No words.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Just heart speak.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Then Mark Sander disappeared into the limousine.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">And he was gone.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">And a part of Nina went with him. </span><br />
<br />
The birds had stopped singing.<br />
<br />
Bucklebury Cemetery<br />
<br />
Nina Sander.<br />
<br />
Surrounded by a sea of sleepers.<br />
<br />
There beneath a sheltering oak tree was the small grave where a little one was buried.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Oliver Sander.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>1 year </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Our Little Angel.</i></span><br />
<br />
Beside it slumbered the one who needed no fanfare.<br />
<br />
A heartfelt inscription upon the marble headstone.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Mark Sander</i></span><br />
<i>Died 35 years.</i><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>"One short sleep past, we wake eternally </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i><br />
</i></span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Nina's journey was finally over.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">And at last she gave full vent to her grief.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Harsh sobs racked her body as she knelt at the grave of her husband. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The moon looked mournfully upon her. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Silently grieving with her</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"I miss you so much" Nina Sander cried.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Tears streamed down her face.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Now she hugged herself against the rising winds.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Golden leaves swirled around her.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Mark had been killed on impact when his racing car veered off the track and crashed. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"He knew nothing" Jake Aaker assured Nina gently.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">But she was too overcome to take it all in.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">It was too much. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"You were his world" Aaker added.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">And he was hers. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">It had begun to rain now.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Then Nina remembered.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">And her hands instinctively cupped her belly.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">There was another life growing within her again.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">A candle had been lit.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">It was the child of their love.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Nina Sander remembered.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">She discovered she was pregnant three days after his death. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">There was a part of Mark living on through her.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">And she could see him now. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">"I will never leave you my love"</span><br />
<br />
<b>Epilogue</b><br />
<br />
Nina Sander gave birth to a boy.<br />
<br />
And she named him Mark.<br />
<br />
Now Nina lay the bouquet upon her husband's grave.<br />
<br />
White oleanders.<br />
<br />
Like the ones she wore in her hair the day they were married.<br />
<br />
Her mother held the newborn in her arms as she watched her daughter spend precious moments at the grave of her husband.<br />
<br />
Mark had gone.<br />
<br />
But he had never left her.<br />
<br />
"I will never leave you my love" Nina Sander whispered.<br />
<br />
Love had conquered death.<br />
<br />
Nina Sander never remarried.<br />
<br />
No one could ever replace Mark.<br />
<br />
And she would lay a bouquet of white oleanders upon his grave for the rest of her days.<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiTUDJnY1-4H7iMNyFdRfhpbPfXoAO1vLsD5cwKuv469fTm_kV4UBvIeHT0H-ZzvDyYvqbwEpobKLnMgiDuzGyrVGbNFXyuSfz6q7w3HzzVcR2S936yU0Vkd37w1L16oWh1bYxgypBAC4/s1600/sadness+by+biljana.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiTUDJnY1-4H7iMNyFdRfhpbPfXoAO1vLsD5cwKuv469fTm_kV4UBvIeHT0H-ZzvDyYvqbwEpobKLnMgiDuzGyrVGbNFXyuSfz6q7w3HzzVcR2S936yU0Vkd37w1L16oWh1bYxgypBAC4/s1600/sadness+by+biljana.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption">Sadness (by biljana1313 deviantart.com)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span><br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/e-vLlTMcGco" width="560"></iframe>Alex Karashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05398068721281907129noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7825899785840631460.post-16852617294805256722014-12-20T02:40:00.001-08:002014-12-20T02:41:55.959-08:00A Harmony Of Spirit<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNBl4WkAAocuxStiHkL6OHRIlmmHnCYpvEpSJgmDbcEIPK7rhmAl1vmVtybZvYfMukaswdhntWXQxtz7FBZOgNlvi5I7fmF2k7bY7ywq7SbVQ247ojTky7_HffpU1_8Io0o2NM9MYWUAA/s1600/maya+angelou.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNBl4WkAAocuxStiHkL6OHRIlmmHnCYpvEpSJgmDbcEIPK7rhmAl1vmVtybZvYfMukaswdhntWXQxtz7FBZOgNlvi5I7fmF2k7bY7ywq7SbVQ247ojTky7_HffpU1_8Io0o2NM9MYWUAA/s1600/maya+angelou.jpg" height="640" width="514" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dr Maya Angelou (<span class="_r3"><span class="irc_ho" dir="ltr">www.washingtonpost.com)</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">Amazing Peace: A Christmas Poem</span></b><br />
<br />
Thunder rumbles in the mountain passes<br />
And lightning rattles the eaves of our houses.<br />
Flood waters await us in our avenues.<br />
<br />
Snow falls upon snow, falls upon snow to avalanche<br />
Over unprotected villages.<br />
The sky slips low and grey and threatening.<br />
<br />
We question ourselves.<br />
What have we done to so affront nature?<br />
We worry God.<br />
Are you there? Are you there really?<br />
Does the covenant you made with us still hold?<br />
<br />
Into this climate of fear and apprehension, Christmas enters,<br />
Streaming lights of joy, ringing bells of hope<br />
And singing carols of forgiveness high up in the bright air.<br />
The world is encouraged to come away from rancor,<br />
Come the way of friendship.<br />
<br />
It is the Glad Season.<br />
Thunder ebbs to silence and lightning sleeps quietly in the corner.<br />
Flood waters recede into memory.<br />
Snow becomes a yielding cushion to aid us<br />
As we make our way to higher ground.<br />
<br />
Hope is born again in the faces of children<br />
It rides on the shoulders of our aged as they walk into their sunsets.<br />
Hope spreads around the earth. Brightening all things,<br />
Even hate which crouches breeding in dark corridors.<br />
<br />
In our joy, we think we hear a whisper.<br />
At first it is too soft. Then only half heard.<br />
We listen carefully as it gathers strength.<br />
We hear a sweetness.<br />
The word is Peace.<br />
It is loud now. It is louder.<br />
Louder than the explosion of bombs.<br />
<br />
We tremble at the sound. We are thrilled by its presence.<br />
It is what we have hungered for.<br />
Not just the absence of war. But, true Peace.<br />
A harmony of spirit, a comfort of courtesies.<br />
Security for our beloveds and their beloveds.<br />
<br />
We clap hands and welcome the Peace of Christmas.<br />
We beckon this good season to wait a while with us.<br />
We, Baptist and Buddhist, Methodist and Muslim, say come.<br />
Peace.<br />
Come and fill us and our world with your majesty.<br />
We, the Jew and the Jainist, the Catholic and the Confucian,<br />
Implore you, to stay a while with us.<br />
So we may learn by your shimmering light<br />
How to look beyond complexion and see community.<br />
<br />
It is Christmas time, a halting of hate time.<br />
<br />
On this platform of peace, we can create a language<br />
To translate ourselves to ourselves and to each other.<br />
<br />
At this Holy Instant, we celebrate the Birth of Jesus Christ<br />
Into the great religions of the world.<br />
We jubilate the precious advent of trust.<br />
We shout with glorious tongues at the coming of hope.<br />
All the earth's tribes loosen their voices<br />
To celebrate the promise of Peace.<br />
<br />
We, Angels and Mortal's, Believers and Non-Believers,<br />
Look heavenward and speak the word aloud.<br />
Peace. We look at our world and speak the word aloud.<br />
Peace. We look at each other, then into ourselves<br />
And we say without shyness or apology or hesitation.<br />
<br />
Peace, My Brother.<br />
Peace, My Sister.<br />
Peace, My Soul.<br />
<br />
Merry Christmas friends and family!<br />
<br />
By <b>Dr. Maya Angelou</b><br />
<br />
<br />
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<br />Alex Karashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05398068721281907129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7825899785840631460.post-71923148260400721972014-12-19T14:26:00.000-08:002016-01-19T09:30:47.135-08:00AngelsOh, my love, it will not be<br />
My broken heart cannot see<br />
My way through the halls of time<br />
When I begged to make you mine<br />
And now, my love, alas, alas<br />
I must let this moment pass<br />
In tears I let this moment……..P A S S<br />
<br />
~ <b>You Let The Moment Pass</b> by Eileen Manassian Ghali<br />
<br />
Arise, shine; for your light has come, and the<br />
glory of the LORD is risen upon you<br />
<br />
~ <b>Isaiah</b> 60:1 (King James)<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBrHjv_4QaLWDjjA2MklchCXEWS0bMJ3mqIs91fo1Odlv0XybBvKuTeFBCYtDU7-dJeiK8e2j2ZhggYiuxaLjH0Mjc1a7T3mNhdQifIpOS71I83-qx2ybkR8HJqs7RSw5G6pkAIRCiiPA/s1600/Manchester+2+by+nzo100vin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBrHjv_4QaLWDjjA2MklchCXEWS0bMJ3mqIs91fo1Odlv0XybBvKuTeFBCYtDU7-dJeiK8e2j2ZhggYiuxaLjH0Mjc1a7T3mNhdQifIpOS71I83-qx2ybkR8HJqs7RSw5G6pkAIRCiiPA/s1600/Manchester+2+by+nzo100vin.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Manchester 2 (by nzo100vin deviantart.com)</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Harry and Peggy</b></span><br />
<br />
Ordsall, Salford, Greater Manchester<br />
<br />
Harry and Peggy Wood had been married for sixty years.<br />
<br />
They had lived in the same little terraced house in Salford for much of that time and were a devoted and contented couple.<br />
<br />
Harry was a war veteran.<br />
<br />
He had not long finished his Royal Navy service when he met Margaret (Peggy) Baker in a cafe.<br />
<br />
She was working at the Mcvities biscuit factory and living with her parents in Eccles when they met.<br />
<br />
He was twenty-four and she was just shy of twenty.<br />
<br />
They were soul mates.<br />
<br />
Everything happened very fast and the couple were married at St Clement's Church, Ordsall and honeymooned in Brighton.<br />
<br />
A daughter would follow later and they named her Carole.<br />
<br />
Carole lived in Australia with her husband Mitchell and they had two grown up daughters, Grace and Emily.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">One Week Before Christmas</span><br />
<br />
Harry Wood had settled into his favourite armchair by the large living room window.<br />
<br />
The grey winter sky was streaked with red and purple.<br />
<br />
Harry sipped his sweet tea as he pondered the empty corner of the living room where the Christmas tree was always placed.<br />
<br />
This year was different.<br />
<br />
And he just didn't have the heart to do it.<br />
<br />
It was Harry's wife who always dressed the Christmas tree.<br />
<br />
And she took great delight in doing it.<br />
<br />
It was Peggy Wood's favourite time of year and it was her ritual to decorate the Christmas tree and she relished doing it.<br />
<br />
She particularly loved to place the Christmas star on top of the tree.<br />
<br />
"There we are!" She would pronounce proudly.<br />
<br />
It was her favourite time of the year.<br />
<br />
But with one week to go before Christmas day, the tree was still residing in the cupboard under the stairs.<br />
<br />
Suddenly it felt very cold.<br />
<br />
Suddenly Harry Wood felt very alone.<br />
<br />
He took another sip of sweet tea and looked across the room.<br />
<br />
Peggy was sitting in her favourite armchair; the green velvet one which had taken an entire afternoon to choose in Debenhams thirty years before.<br />
<br />
Her face was partially illuminated by the street lamps from outside.<br />
<br />
She was knitting a little winter hat for Harry and her gold spectacles were perched on the end of her nose.<br />
<br />
Peggy looked up at Harry and smiled.<br />
<br />
Then she slowly shook her head.<br />
<br />
Harry's heart jumped.<br />
<br />
Suddenly she was the pretty auburn haired lass he had met in a cafe.<br />
<br />
The green eyed girl who was too shy to look directly in his eyes.<br />
<br />
Margaret Baker.<br />
<br />
The beguiling auburn haired goddess.<br />
<br />
The Deborah Kerr of Salford.<br />
<br />
A woman so full of grace that it tore Harry Wood's heart out. <br />
<br />
She was the only woman he had ever known and they went on to live a quiet life in their modest terraced house in Greater Manchester.<br />
<br />
The years had evaporated.<br />
<br />
Now Peggy looked at her husband with a knowing look in her eye.<br />
<br />
"Don't you think it's time to put the Christmas tree up?" She said. <br />
<br />
Harry almost spilled hot tea into his lap.<br />
<br />
"Peggy ..."<br />
<br />
"Aye, love?"<br />
<br />
All words had suddenly deserted him. <br />
<br />
"Nowt ..."<br />
<br />
There was a resplendent glow in Peggy's face that seemed to come from somewhere deep within her.<br />
<br />
He remembered the day he married her as if it were yesterday.<br />
<br />
Peggy was dressed in a Jenny Packham ivory silk wedding dress with a fine tulle veil and she looked like an angel as she walked down the isle on the arm of her father Albert. <br />
<br />
"You're so beautiful" Harry Wood whispered to her.<br />
<br />
Peggy smiled. <br />
<br />
"Everything is going to be alright" she replied. <br />
<br />
And he knew it would be.<br />
<br />
Peggy had always been a good Irish-Catholic girl.<br />
<br />
It was her innate rectitude that often moved Harry Wood and it seemed to shine out of her.<br />
<br />
"My angel" Harry declared.<br />
<br />
She was too good for this world.<br />
<br />
He wasn't sure at what point he had fallen asleep, but Harry awoke with a jolt to find the whole house flooded in darkness.<br />
<br />
"Only me!" Came the female voice as the front door closed behind her.<br />
<br />
It was Luiza Wozniak, the home help.<br />
<br />
She was a slim Polish woman with blonde hair and bright blue eyes.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;"></div>"What are you doing sitting in the dark?" Luiza gently chided Harry as she flicked on the light.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNi4TZSFsus9IBqYmFY7LsvSXxssboc1jmvnQCvsU_h3dpezt3sMOXgODacmjWwOBl2MKR_mutBL6DV0VHzCB1R0Dlxo-1nXYlmucIwonTF7agFwWhW_mUHKTBH5A6AUiqW7Xn5D3c7tM/s1600/The+Heart,+Salford+Quays+by+Belafon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNi4TZSFsus9IBqYmFY7LsvSXxssboc1jmvnQCvsU_h3dpezt3sMOXgODacmjWwOBl2MKR_mutBL6DV0VHzCB1R0Dlxo-1nXYlmucIwonTF7agFwWhW_mUHKTBH5A6AUiqW7Xn5D3c7tM/s1600/The+Heart,+Salford+Quays+by+Belafon.jpg" width="388" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Heart, Salford Quays (by Belafon deviantart.com)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>He squinted and rubbed his eyes.<br />
<br />
Then he looked up at the clock on the wall - it was 7:00 pm.<br />
<br />
He had been sleeping for over three hours.<br />
<br />
"Hello Luiza!"<br />
<br />
Luiza Wozniak was holding a large covered plate in her hand.<br />
<br />
"Irish stew!" She exclaimed brightly "Apple crumble for afters. Lucky you!"<br />
<br />
Harry liked the woman.<br />
<br />
She always seemed to brighten up the place and nothing was ever too hard for her.<br />
<br />
Luiza Wozniak had been assisting Harry Wood for three years now and she had acquired a lot of affection for him regarding him as a surrogate grandfather.<br />
<br />
"Peggy will like it too" Harry informed her "Irish stew is one of her favourites"<br />
<br />
Luiza smiled.<br />
<br />
"Of course it is"<br />
<br />
"Aye" <br />
<br />
"I'm sure you're looking forward to your daughter coming to stay"<br />
<br />
Harry Wood nodded enthusiastically.<br />
<br />
The weather had changed dramatically the following day with biting winds and frost on the ground.<br />
<br />
Harry Wood had put on his woollen coat, Harris Tweed cap and the blue and mauve scarf which Peggy had meticulously knitted for him a couple of years before. <br />
<br />
He still had the 32' inch waist that he had had for most of his adult life and he was as nimble and agile as ever taking a brisk every day if he could.<br />
<br />
Harry was heading for his favourite place - Ordsall Park.<br />
<br />
The park was opened in 1876, and was the second oldest park in Salford.<br />
<br />
Harry braced himself against the rising winds as he found a bench and sat down.<br />
<br />
The sky had considerably darkened and the park was virtually empty but Harry Wood was already immersed in his own thoughts.<br />
<br />
He had sat in exactly the same spot a year before.<br />
<br />
Now Harry mused on the dreamlike passing of time.<br />
<br />
"Hello Harry!" A female voice hailed him.<br />
<br />
It was Julie Chadwick from Lloyd's Pharmacy in town.<br />
<br />
She was taking her little Yorkshire Terrier Milo for a walk. <br />
<br />
"Hello, love" Harry replied.<br />
<br />
"You'll catch your <i>death</i> in the cold!" Julie cried.<br />
<br />
Then she realised what she had said and suddenly felt shamefaced.<br />
<br />
There was an uneasy couple of moments. <br />
<br />
"I'm quite happy here" Harry Wood assured her.<br />
<br />
"Why don't you come back to mine for tea? There's plenty to go round"<br />
<br />
Julie lived with her husband Gavin and three year old daughter Lisa in a splendid house with a pool and games room. <br />
<br />
"Oh my, is that the time!" Harry fretted as he glanced at his watch.<br />
<br />
"It's quite alright. You'd be most welcome" Julie insisted. <br />
<br />
"I'd better be going love. Peggy will be wondering what happened to me!"<br />
<br />
Julie Chadwick smiled.<br />
<br />
Then she helped Harry Wood rise from the bench.<br />
<br />
"Perhaps another time" She said.<br />
<br />
Wood doffed his hat.<br />
<br />
"I'll hold you to it!" Julie Chadwick added. <br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Three Days Before Christmas</span><br />
<br />
The living room had been completely transformed into a festive haven with garlands, candles and strings of cards across the walls.<br />
<br />
Now Harry Wood stepped back to look admirably at the Christmas tree in the corner of the living room.<br />
<br />
It had been adorned with flashing Christmas lights and gold tinsel, glittering bells and pretty baubles that sparkled when the light caught them.<br />
<br />
"Wonderful!" Luiza Wozniak pronounced proudly.<br />
<br />
Then she laid a hand gently on Harry's shoulder.<br />
<br />
"But there is <i>just</i> one thing ..."<br />
<br />
She placed the shimmering Christmas star in his hand. <br />
<br />
For a few moments Harry Wood was too overcome with emotion to speak.<br />
<br />
Then he saw Peggy standing in the doorway.<br />
<br />
She was dressed in a white satin dress and she motioned to him.<br />
<br />
Harry took the Christmas star and placed it carefully on top of the tree.<br />
<br />
"Perfect!" Luiza Wozniak declared "Let's have some tea!"<br />
<br />
The whole living room seemed to be bathed in light.<br />
<br />
"Everything is going to be alright" Peggy whispered into Harry's ear. <br />
<br />
He could smell her perfume.<br />
<br />
Palma Violets.<br />
<br />
Harry Wood closed his eyes.<br />
<br />
He remembered walking hand in hand with Peggy across the beach in Blackpool.<br />
<br />
They had been married for ten years but had been unable to have children.<br />
<br />
The couple had become resigned to it.<br />
<br />
They had each other and that was all that mattered.<br />
<br />
"I have summat to tell you" Peggy Wood informed her husband.<br />
<br />
Her face was glowing and her eyes were shining brightly.<br />
<br />
"Aye, love"<br />
<br />
"I'm pregnant" <br />
<br />
For a few moments Harry was lost for words. <br />
<br />
The beach suddenly seemed very quiet with only the sound of lapping waves.<br />
<br />
"Aye, four weeks gone. I'm expecting a little one!" Peggy declared proudly.<br />
<br />
"Why love, that's amazing!" Harry Wood exclaimed lifting her up and spinning her around until they tumbled into the sand.<br />
<br />
They were both giggling and suddenly Harry went quiet. <br />
<br />
Peggy knew how conscientious her husband was. <br />
<br />
He must be worrying about whether he would be a good dad.<br />
<br />
"Are you okay love?" Peggy asked him.<br />
<br />
"Aye ..."<br />
<br />
"Everything is going to be alright" Peggy assured him.<br />
<br />
The clouds had suddenly disappeared. <br />
<br />
Harry Wood felt he was the happiest man alive.<br />
<br />
When he opened his eyes again Harry was standing beside Luiza Wozniak in St Joseph Roman Catholic Church.<br />
<br />
It was Midnight Mass. <br />
<br />
The church was full of people and their faces were illuminated by the candlelight.<br />
<br />
St Joseph's had become an otherworldly place inhabited by celestial beings. <br />
<br />
"Angels" Harry Wood declared. <br />
<br />
An ethereal peace had descended upon St Joseph's. <br />
<br />
Peggy stood beside him in her white satin dress.<br />
<br />
Her whole face glowed in the candlelight.<br />
<br />
"Everything is going to be alright" she whispered.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Christmas Eve</span><br />
<br />
It was 3pm when Harry Wood opened the front door to his daughter.<br />
<br />
Carole was so overcome with emotion that she hugged her father and would not let him go.<br />
<br />
"Steady, girl" Harry cried.<br />
<br />
Her husband appeared at the door laden with presents.<br />
<br />
Mitchell Jones was an architect by trade and had made a good life for himself and his family in Australia.<br />
<br />
They were able to live comfortably in semi-retirement in the Sydney suburb of Rydalmere. <br />
<br />
"Crumbs!" Harry exclaimed at the sight of all the gifts. <br />
<br />
"The girls send their love" Mitchell informed his father-in-law, enthusiastically patting his arm.<br />
<br />
Harry smiled.<br />
<br />
As soon as he was alone with his daughter in the hall, Carole looked deeply into her fathers eyes.<br />
<br />
She was small and blonde with engaging blue eyes.<br />
<br />
"Are you alright daddy?" Carole asked with concern. <br />
<br />
"Aye, love" Harry assured her as he gripped her hand.<br />
<br />
"Why don't you come and live with us in Australia?" Carole asserted "We have plenty of room and the weather will do you good. Sydney is stunning and there is so much to see and do"<br />
<br />
"I'm quite okay here, my dear" Harry Wood replied firmly. <br />
<br />
Carole kissed her father on the cheek.<br />
<br />
"Besides, your mother told me <i>everything</i> is going to be alright" <br />
<br />
Carole Jones smiled.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Christmas Day</span><br />
<br />
It was a frosty morning with a clear sky.<br />
<br />
Carole arose with a jolt.<br />
<br />
Leaving her slumbering husband behind she left the guest room and noticed that her parents door was ajar.<br />
<br />
The big bed had not been slept in.<br />
<br />
Carole smiled to herself.<br />
<br />
Her father must have fallen asleep watching TV. <br />
<br />
She quietly made her way downstairs expecting to find her father quietly snoring in his favourite armchair.<br />
<br />
The curtains were still drawn in the living room and an ethereal peace seemed to permeate everything.<br />
<br />
Harry Wood was sitting in his favourite armchair and appeared to be sleeping. <br />
<br />
As Carole Jones approached her father, she realised his chest wasn't moving.<br />
<br />
He looked very peaceful.<br />
<br />
She knew her father had gone. <br />
<br />
Carole Jones noticed he seemed to be smiling.<br />
<br />
She gently kissed her father's hand and then dissolved into sobs. <br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">January 10</span><br />
<br />
Crowds lined the streets of Ordsall as the funeral car passed slowly by.<br />
<br />
A great hush had descended upon them. <br />
<br />
St Joseph's Roman Catholic Church was full that morning with many residents of Ordsall attending the funeral service.<br />
<br />
Life would never be the same for the people of Ordsall who could not remember a time when Harry Wood was not around.<br />
<br />
The quiet man had at last quietly left them. <br />
<br />
A large crowd of mourners gathered at the interment to stand in solidarity with the family of Harry Wood.<br />
<br />
Mitchel and Carole Jones with their daughters Grace and Emily and their own families were surrounded by a tidal wave of love. <br />
<br />
Harry Wood was buried beside his wife in All Hallows Graveyard.<br />
<br />
Just as he wished. <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;"></div>Carole remained at the graveside beside her husband.<br />
<br />
He put his arm around her.<br />
<br />
"You okay?" He whispered.<br />
<br />
"Yes" she replied.<br />
<br />
She turned to look earnestly into her husbands eyes. <br />
<br />
"Everything is going to be alright. Just like my mom said"<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Somehow Love</b></span><br />
<br />
Stretford, Trafford, Greater Manchester<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">One Week Before Christmas </span><br />
<br />
Katie Paige hadn't seen the car.<br />
<br />
She was so immersed in her own thoughts that she stepped out into the road without looking.<br />
<br />
Katie worked at the Town Hall and she left early that afternoon pleading sickness.<br />
<br />
She just couldn't face the Christmas party.<br />
<br />
Feeling lost and cast down, she drove into town and stopped at the Trafford Centre.<br />
<br />
But it was one week before Christmas and every shop seemed to be packed with shoppers. <br />
<br />
Katie Paige had never felt more alone as she walked around the centre.<br />
<br />
She kept picturing<i> him</i> in her mind.<br />
<br />
Fraser Douglas.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDXTd7de_YMV7jh4ITYj-dDKTTELDQLvUTsHchjFsVKiSMtPeseUQYJje200KM2bU2DyX8Q6NoMPpnfvhEg3TY248kIGRSA0H7WSnt4ZhRNeoltnaZlV80eoj3Z7o2TCCTP3wFSrApJAY/s1600/Manchester+-+Trafford+Park+2+by+eemmzzz.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDXTd7de_YMV7jh4ITYj-dDKTTELDQLvUTsHchjFsVKiSMtPeseUQYJje200KM2bU2DyX8Q6NoMPpnfvhEg3TY248kIGRSA0H7WSnt4ZhRNeoltnaZlV80eoj3Z7o2TCCTP3wFSrApJAY/s1600/Manchester+-+Trafford+Park+2+by+eemmzzz.jpg" width="428" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Manchester - Trafford Park 2 (by eemmzzz deviantart.com)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>The dashing Scotsman that she had been in love with for three years.<br />
<br />
He had broken the spell with a shock announcement on the last day before the festive break.<br />
<br />
Fraser Douglas had just announced his engagement to the attractive woman clinging to his side.<br />
<br />
She was fawning and grinning contentedly.<br />
<br />
Daniella Davis.<br />
<br />
A striking blue eyed blonde.<br />
<br />
She was the Manhattan sweetheart who had only been at the Town Hall a year.<br />
<br />
Daniella Davis exuded self confidence and self assurance.<br />
<br />
Katie Paige hated her.<br />
<br />
She hated her for stealing <i>her</i> man.<br />
<br />
Daniella Davis batted her eyelashes and Fraser Douglas fell at her feet.<br />
<br />
Now she watched as the dazzling couple kissed each other<br />
<br />
The entire office broke into applause and terms of endearment. <br />
<br />
Katie's world imploded.<br />
<br />
Everything seemed to have happened so fast that it made her head spin.<br />
<br />
Fraser Douglas and Daniella Davis had been conducting an affair under everyone's nose and they were so discreet that nobody had any inkling about it.<br />
<br />
He explained how it was "love at first sight".<br />
<br />
The words felt like a dagger to Katie's heart.<br />
<br />
Men and women had gathered around the strapping Glaswegian and his pretty fiancée as he spoke and Katie listened with tears in her eyes at the back.<br />
<br />
Fraser Douglas was the handsome action man who loved trekking through the Chilterns and climbing mountains ranges.<br />
<br />
He was 6ft tall with red hair and piercing green eyes and a sonorous voice which sent shivers down Katie Paige's spine.<br />
<br />
Fraser was polite and well mannered and Katie had been secretly in love with him since he arrived at the Town Hall, but she had never been able to pluck up the courage to approach him.<br />
<br />
They shared surface conversations during lunch break or on the odd occasions co-workers went out to a bar or for a meal together.<br />
<br />
Katie was always subtle but meaningful yet it always seemed that Fraser Douglas looked right through her with his glittering green eyes.<br />
<br />
She wasn't sophisticated or assertive; she was just an unpretentious young woman who had fallen in love with a man who didn't seem to notice her.<br />
<br />
Fraser was gregarious and athletic and Katie was the shy little girl who listened more than she spoke.<br />
<br />
Katie Paige was a reserved and quietly spoken young woman.<br />
<br />
She was a pretty brunette with indigo eyes and a winsome smile.<br />
<br />
Katie lived in a modest little flat with her co-worker and friend Jenny Clay in Stretford.<br />
<br />
She was a die-hard romantic who had never really been in love before and now she had lost the man of her dreams.<br />
<br />
Fraser Douglas had been her Mr Darcy.<br />
<br />
She fantasised about running away with him to a place where the sky was always blue and nothing bad ever happened.<br />
<br />
But it was all just a dream.<br />
<br />
Now Fraser Douglas was standing beside the woman who would one day be his wife.<br />
<br />
Although she was surrounded by people, Katie Paige had never felt so alone before.<br />
<br />
She retreated to the staff kitchen and splashed cold water on her face.<br />
<br />
"Coming to the party?"<br />
<br />
It was Jenny Clay.<br />
<br />
She playfully nudged Paige with her elbow.<br />
<br />
"No, I don't feel very well ..."<br />
<br />
"Are you okay?"<br />
<br />
"Aye ... of course I am"<br />
<br />
"Sure?"<br />
<br />
Katie was fighting back tears.<br />
<br />
Jenny Clay smiled knowingly.<br />
<br />
She knew full well her friend wasn't okay.<br />
<br />
They had been friends since their college days.<br />
<br />
Jenny Clay was an engaging brunette with hazel eyes and a jocular personality.<br />
<br />
She knew her friend was in love with Fraser Douglas but had been too shy to let him know.<br />
<br />
Now he had met somebody and the chance had gone.<br />
<br />
Jenny Clay felt incredibly sad for her friend.<br />
<br />
"You'll be alright, babe" She assured her.<br />
<br />
Katie managed to smile.<br />
<br />
But all she wanted to do right now was hide.<br />
<br />
She re-entered the office and quietly gathered her things together.<br />
<br />
Then she paused at the door.<br />
<br />
Fraser Douglas was showing everyone the diamond and sapphire engagement ring on Daniella's finger.<br />
<br />
Katie Paige closed the door quietly behind her.<br />
<br />
As she walked around the busy centre she heard Fraser's voice in her head.<br />
<br />
"She's the most beautiful girl I've ever seen!" He declared.<br />
<br />
Tears were streaming down Katie's face.<br />
<br />
She decided to go home to nurse her broken heart.<br />
<br />
A long hot bath beckoned to her.<br />
<br />
Suddenly Katie felt glad she lit a candle in St Ann's church.<br />
<br />
It was such a peaceful place and she had paused at the altar.<br />
<br />
Katie Paige wasn't looking when she stepped into the road and although the red hatchback swerved to avoid her, it drove into her from the right side and sent her tumbling across the bonnet onto the ground.<br />
<br />
People quickly gathered around her but she couldn't make them out.<br />
<br />
Her whole body hurt.<br />
<br />
Everything seemed to go into slow motion as street lights got brighter and brighter before Paige lost consciousness.<br />
<br />
Katie Paige had lost track of time.<br />
<br />
It had become obsolete in her no-man's-land.<br />
<br />
When she eventually came to, it was as if she had risen from the dead and was surrounded by shining faces in an unfamiliar place.<br />
<br />
Katie had been in a dreamless deep slumber and as she slowly opened her eyes she could just make out the faces looking down upon her.<br />
<br />
She squinted as her eyes adjusted to the bright room.<br />
<br />
"Where am I?" Katie asked weakly.<br />
<br />
"Stretford Memorial Hospital" a female voice informed her.<br />
<br />
"You've had an accident" another female voice added<br />
<br />
Katie noticed that she was attached to an intravenous drip.<br />
<br />
Her whole body felt numb and she was completely disorientated.<br />
<br />
Her head felt groggy and her limbs heavy.<br />
<br />
Katie squinted at the name tag on the nurses uniform.<br />
<br />
Ayanda Adunola, RN<br />
<br />
The Nigerian nurse was sturdily built with a round face, onyx eyes and a big smile.<br />
<br />
"What happened to me?" Katie asked.<br />
<br />
"You were hit by a car. The owner called the ambulance and stayed with you" Nurse Ayanda informed her.<br />
<br />
The other nurse smiled.<br />
<br />
"You are a very lucky lady"<br />
<br />
Katie read her name tag.<br />
<br />
Lucy Reeves RN<br />
<br />
She was small and blonde with light blue eyes.<br />
<br />
Nurse Lucy checked the drip and made some notes.<br />
<br />
Both nurses were selfless.<br />
<br />
Their faces seemed to glow.<br />
<br />
"Angels" Katie Paige muttered.<br />
<br />
Then her eyes became heavy again and she began to drift off.<br />
<br />
Everything slowly receded.<br />
<br />
"Katie! Katie! Katie"<br />
<br />
She could hear her mother's voice calling to her from somewhere outside herself.<br />
<br />
"Mother?"<br />
<br />
Katie ran towards the partially open door.<br />
<br />
"Miss Paige?"<br />
<br />
The dream began to fade.<br />
<br />
"Miss Paige?"<br />
<br />
It was the familiar voice of Nurse Ayanda calling her out of her slumber.<br />
<br />
"The doctor will see you now"<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMrxMxnl_LRFCcoeCexnD5sw1j9G8ugLPsYp-HG-98YKFVq-4Cg8lgCxIVfmwUFRAg6qcgh4Y715UsbdRs1qnJ4vokJGUly4sXYqi_4phzvzG2mrQj1KUrnFBXQdzybebv-Fs3VP0RsCI/s1600/Town+Hall+by+belafon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMrxMxnl_LRFCcoeCexnD5sw1j9G8ugLPsYp-HG-98YKFVq-4Cg8lgCxIVfmwUFRAg6qcgh4Y715UsbdRs1qnJ4vokJGUly4sXYqi_4phzvzG2mrQj1KUrnFBXQdzybebv-Fs3VP0RsCI/s1600/Town+Hall+by+belafon.jpg" width="390" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Town Hall (by belafon deviantart.com)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>She moved aside and the doctor stepped forward.<br />
<br />
Katie was still coming to, and she struggled to make out the blurred face.<br />
<br />
Then she thought her heart had stopped.<br />
<br />
Katie was immediately struck by how handsome the doctor was.<br />
<br />
He was tall and imposing with wavy black hair, olive skin and sharp green eyes. <br />
<br />
"My name is Dr Michael Kasabian" he informed her in a resonant voice "and I am going to be looking after you"<br />
<br />
Katie noticed that he had full lips and a beauty spot on his right cheek.<br />
<br />
He smelled of freshly cut flowers, goodness and hope.<br />
<br />
Katie Paige's heart had somersaulted.<br />
<br />
"You're beautiful" Katie told him.<br />
<br />
Dr Kasabian smiled.<br />
<br />
"Rest for now. You've been through a lot today"<br />
<br />
He paused at the door.<br />
<br />
"I'll check in on you later"<br />
<br />
And then he was gone and the world suddenly felt very ordinary.<br />
<br />
Katie Paige was unable to suppress a smile.<br />
<br />
She had narrowly escaped death and the bizarre night was taking an unexpected turn.<br />
<br />
Hope had entered the frame.<br />
<br />
And Katie Paige was profoundly grateful for all the calamities that had befallen her.<br />
<br />
"You're lucky your injuries were not life threatening" Nurse Ayanda informed her at the door.<br />
<br />
Katie smiled.<br />
<br />
Later she called Jenny Clay.<br />
<br />
"My God, are you okay?" Clay cried.<br />
<br />
"It could have been worse ..."<br />
<br />
"I'll be there in twenty minutes!"<br />
<br />
Jenny Clay was still wearing her Christmas hat when she arrived and she listened in shocked silence as her friend told her what had happened.<br />
<br />
Clay clutched Katie's hand and fought back the tears.<br />
<br />
"You've been through it!" She cried.<br />
<br />
She was still struggling to comprehend what Katie was telling her as she sat on the side of the hospital bed.<br />
<br />
She looked so small and fragile - like a wounded sparrow. <br />
<br />
There was a vivid blue and purple bruise across the left side of her face but she still looked pretty.<br />
<br />
"Your friend is a very lucky young lady" Nurse Ayanda informed Jenny Clay.<br />
<br />
When Katie had finished. Clay had something to tell her.<br />
<br />
"Everyone is concerned about you, particularly -"<br />
<br />
Fraser Douglas suddenly bounded into the hospital room with a concerned look upon his face.<br />
<br />
"Katie!" He exclaimed "Thank God you are okay!"<br />
<br />
Katie Paige looked up at the man she had secretly longed for for three years.<br />
<br />
"I heard what happened and I had to come!" Douglas added earnestly.<br />
<br />
She could tell he was slightly out of breath from exertion and that his sentiments were heartfelt.<br />
<br />
He must have been running to get to the hospital.<br />
<br />
How long had Katie yearned for Fraser to come running to her.<br />
<br />
And now he had and she felt oddly hollow.<br />
<br />
Fraser sat on the side of the bed beside Jenny Clay and his piercing green eyes looked longingly into Katie's haunted face.<br />
<br />
It was the familiar handsome face.<br />
<br />
But something had happened.<br />
<br />
Katie Paige was no longer in love with Fraser Douglas.<br />
<br />
The fairy dust had evaporated.<br />
<br />
Fraser Douglas was just a man.<br />
<br />
"Thank you, Fraser" Katie said "But I really am quite okay"<br />
<br />
"I don't know what I would have done if I'd lost you" Douglas cried.<br />
<br />
Katie smiled.<br />
<br />
Once upon a time she would have given anything to have him so close to her and to listen to his dulcet tones.<br />
<br />
But it was just a voice.<br />
<br />
Jenny Clay knew instantly that something had changed in her friend.<br />
<br />
Katie had let Fraser go.<br />
<br />
Dr Kasabian had re-entered the room again.<br />
<br />
Katie looked to him.<br />
<br />
He had totally eclipsed Fraser Douglas.<br />
<br />
"Everything is going to be alright now" Paige declared.<br />
<br />
The handsome doctor smiled at her.<br />
<br />
"I have angels to look after me"<br />
<br />
Fraser Douglas looked at Jenny Clay.<br />
<br />
Katie smiled.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Epilogue</span><br />
<br />
Katie was able to spend Christmas with her father and mother in Bolton.<br />
<br />
She was just putting the dishes away on Boxing Day evening when her phone rang.<br />
<br />
"Hello?"<br />
<br />
"Hi"<br />
<br />
Katie's heart jumped.<br />
<br />
She knew exactly who it was.<br />
<br />
"I am your angel" Dr Michael Kasabian declared.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx8xo7sgVQROQil_2CDc5RxjqXAnpvApZieiVEq5VjkRRBYk8yTwft5psHoNTUTY06sroXVMJye33KQJBH6ukH7v-g88qxJb4mC9nOcsU9pgO2N0wD2N5J0Jj7D5-rVpBTtBUpRhsPVFs/s1600/christmas+by+garfieldgreen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx8xo7sgVQROQil_2CDc5RxjqXAnpvApZieiVEq5VjkRRBYk8yTwft5psHoNTUTY06sroXVMJye33KQJBH6ukH7v-g88qxJb4mC9nOcsU9pgO2N0wD2N5J0Jj7D5-rVpBTtBUpRhsPVFs/s1600/christmas+by+garfieldgreen.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">christmas (by garfieldgreen deviiantart.com)</td></tr>
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<iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/nMEHJPuggHQ" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>Alex Karashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05398068721281907129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7825899785840631460.post-37638541162490538612014-11-22T16:10:00.000-08:002014-11-22T16:32:47.478-08:00Like Diamonds<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So shine bright tonight, you and I </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">We’re beautiful like diamonds in the sky </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Eye to eye, so alive </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">We’re beautiful like diamonds in the sky</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">~ <b>Diamonds </b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6CMwn0wb-LNwRzrnzkMtHcaOOAmGFsFpFLE_-qYZcZpuGOQ3EhzmS2SN9CrEeHIf8hhxBXeqlK16R8o-cnvv97h6F0NLSvaubEe-qT2wmiVmLfFiJIEw6zCIuM_2k5DUSxghyxZobnmI/s1600/Blossom+by+Pandacv721.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6CMwn0wb-LNwRzrnzkMtHcaOOAmGFsFpFLE_-qYZcZpuGOQ3EhzmS2SN9CrEeHIf8hhxBXeqlK16R8o-cnvv97h6F0NLSvaubEe-qT2wmiVmLfFiJIEw6zCIuM_2k5DUSxghyxZobnmI/s1600/Blossom+by+Pandacv721.png" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Blossom (by Pandacv721 deviant,com)</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Now that I have your face by heart,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I look Less at its features than its darkening frame</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Where quince and melon, yellow as young flame,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Lie with quilled dahlias and the shepherd's crook.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Beyond, a garden. There, in insolent ease</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The lead and marble figures watch the show</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Of yet another summer loath to go</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Although the scythes hang in the apple trees.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Now that I have your face by heart, I look.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Now that I have your voice by heart,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I read In the black chords upon a dulling page</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Music that is not meant for music's cage,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Whose emblems mix with words that shake and bleed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The staves are shuttled over with a stark</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Unprinted silence.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">In a double dream I must spell out the storm, the running stream.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The beat's too swift.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The notes shift in the dark.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Now that I have your voice by heart, I read.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Now that I have your heart by heart, I see</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The wharves with their great ships and architraves;</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The rigging and the cargo and the slaves</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">On a strange beach under a broken sky.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">O not departure, but a voyage done!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The bales stand on the stone; the anchor weeps</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Its red rust downward, and the long vine creeps</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Beside the salt herb, in the lengthening sun.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Now that I have your heart by heart, I see.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">~ <b>Song for the Last Act</b> by Louise Bogan</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> </span><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/_koFbsnw_PM" width="560"></iframe><br />
<br />
~ For EgleAlex Karashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05398068721281907129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7825899785840631460.post-3489708876812774432014-11-20T12:34:00.003-08:002016-01-19T09:18:21.722-08:00Nemesis<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Thro’ the ghoul-guarded gateways of slumber, </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Past the wan-moon’d abysses of night, </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I have liv’d o’er my lives without number, </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I have sounded all things with my sight; </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">And I struggle and shriek ere the daybreak, being driven to madness with fright. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I have whirl’d with the earth at the dawning, </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">When the sky was a vaporous flame; </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I have seen the dark universe yawning, </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Where the black planets roll without aim; </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Where they roll in their horror unheeded, without knowledge or lustre or name.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">~ <b>Nemesis</b> by H. P. Lovecraft</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span> <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_pKAgTHl8ltjy31DvB5tzoG5TkJ2_J1apRvr5BxThMurb79HvtmKvbjHldTthqK-QSgjEyeaEUT1MeU-TahsuI3yfPpSyRIGnY8lAhVwbY8LX7A23BqFULyLjAcdyZFlvn43BndP2U7Y/s1600/Old+House+by+freatmah.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_pKAgTHl8ltjy31DvB5tzoG5TkJ2_J1apRvr5BxThMurb79HvtmKvbjHldTthqK-QSgjEyeaEUT1MeU-TahsuI3yfPpSyRIGnY8lAhVwbY8LX7A23BqFULyLjAcdyZFlvn43BndP2U7Y/s1600/Old+House+by+freatmah.jpg" width="606" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Old House (by freatmah deviantart.com)</span></td></tr>
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: medium;"><br />
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: medium;"><br />
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<h3 style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Journey Into Madness</span></span></h3>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: medium;"><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Arnold James.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">He would probably describe himself as “a regular sort of guy” in spite of the fact that his first self-published horror novel “Nemesis” has become a best-seller all around the world. </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Arnold James would proudly inform you that he was an avid Manchester United fan and that he never missed a match if he could help it.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">And over a pint he might even reveal that he finally married his long-term partner. </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Chloe James. </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">But he might be a little bit more reluctant to share his obsession with the darker side of life and of the human psyche and how he has been harbouring dreams of becoming the next Stephen King or Clive Barker. </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The young man might not want to divulge the countless hours he has spent conversing with horror aficionados in chat-rooms and the secret life he has been living through the internet. </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Arnold James won't want you know the price he's paid to get to where he is today and he'd he would gladly give it all up just to have the woman he loves back in his life again.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">To turn back the clock ...</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">It was 2 am when the young man finally checked his watch.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">He had just spent six hours conserving with a person calling themselves “Dr Cripin” in a chat-room for the horror aficionado and the lengthy interaction had yielded some truly toe-curling facts about the peccadilloes of serial killers. </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“Nut job!” Arnold James cried as he closed his laptop and rubbed his eyes.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
James was tall and boyishly good-looking with wavy brown hair and intense blue eyes and an endearing personality.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: black;">It was eighteen months since he had packed civil service job in and since then he had devoted every waking moment picking the minds of horror devotees in chat rooms and ion forums as he amassed material for his first novel. </span> </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: black;">But he had hardly written a word for the last several months as he spent more and more time having anonymous interactions with faceless people on the internet. </span> </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">It was Arnold's charm that first attracted Chloe Dunlop to him.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: black;">She found his self-deprecating humour very appealing when they first met at the soft drinks machine at Southgate College. </span> </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: black;">It was raining that afternoon and he drove her home and was rewarded with a kiss on the cheek. </span> </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: black;">That was how it began, and five years later the couple were married in a Gothic church in Tufnell Park and they spent two idyllic weeks in Sardinia for their honeymoon. </span> </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Chloe James was a striking and attractive woman.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
She was blonde and petite with warm brown eyes and a winsome smile.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: black;">Chloe was proud of the little florist shop she ran in Highgate Wood. </span> </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Petals </i>was her sanctuary.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: black;">For the last eighteen months she had been supporting herself and her husband as he focused upon writing his first horror novel. </span> </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Choe James was just keeping body and soul together.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Weathering the storms with her husband .</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">And after six months of marriage, she was already a writer's widow.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Her husband had transformed a little outhouse at the end of the garden into a writing den and he retreated there.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">His wife watched as he dragged a mattress and sleeping bag into the den and turned it into his new home.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Arnold James had only his vivid imagination and his cyberspace acolytes for company.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">His wife had been excluded from his world.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Arnold James had become a hermit.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">He only surfaced briefly to bathe before disappearing back into his sanctuary once again.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: black;">Like a rat scurrying into a dark corner. </span> </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
Chloe James barely recognised the wild eyed, bearded man who grunted at her.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">She was the fallen angel expelled from paradise.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Her husband was the mad man summoning all hell fire and sleeping with worms.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: black;">He was totally obsessed with the occult and devoured anything he could get on divination and summoning practises. </span> </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Chloe James was left to lie alone in their big bed; staring up at the ceiling with tears in her eyes as she wondered what had happened to the sweet boy she had met at college.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">He had been replaced by somebody who barely noticed she was there.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: black;">She was a nonentity watching her husband descend into the darkest recesses of his mind. </span> </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: black;">Chloe James felt jealous of the faceless internet dwellers who had stolen her husband. </span> </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“<span style="font-size: small;">Did you know they've <i>never </i>found the killer until this day?” Arnold James informed his wife one evening when she bought in his dinner.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: black;">He was referring to the notorious Archway Road murders. </span> </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Her husband had lately become obsessed with the unsolved murder case from 1966.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">53 Old Kent Road was still boarded up today because nobody wanted to buy it and they had given up trying to sell it.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: black;">Nobody wanted to live in a house that was cursed. </span> </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Arnold James had often stopped outside the house and imagined what had happened inside.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Someone had thoughtfully sprayed across the board in spidery red letters.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“<span style="font-size: small;"><i>Hell Hole”</i></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Chloe shrugged.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: black;">“<span style="font-size: small;">Maybe the killer was <i>driven</i> to it!” She answered drily. </span></span> </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">But the quip escaped her husband whose gaze never left his laptop screen</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“<span style="font-size: small;">Just think ... the killer is <i>still</i> out there” James replied dreamily “Scary, eh?”</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Chloe shrugged.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">He never heard his wife's soft footsteps as she quietly exited the den.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Arnold James had become completely obsessed with the 1966 killings and driven past the dilapidated scene of the crime countless times.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: black;">Martin and Sandra Miller and their twin daughters Sarah and Sadie were murdered in cold blood on a cold October night and their bodies were found several days later - slumped around the dinner table with their throats slit from ear to ear. </span> </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeDCIipjCwJIgSysks3gXs-TEzY339kLzt0_t8Khx9y0P-qG19bE3-6deH3bGPY8EwnnE3Kp3AuV7B3QdfbwoaFGwDSVAKR6w5soGo5iRzPVmLgPywtUcOGMSumFiTGhdM713mj1PMyMA/s1600/Prelude+To+Darkness+...+by+hearthy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeDCIipjCwJIgSysks3gXs-TEzY339kLzt0_t8Khx9y0P-qG19bE3-6deH3bGPY8EwnnE3Kp3AuV7B3QdfbwoaFGwDSVAKR6w5soGo5iRzPVmLgPywtUcOGMSumFiTGhdM713mj1PMyMA/s1600/Prelude+To+Darkness+...+by+hearthy.jpg" width="446" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Prelude To Darkness ... (by hearthy deviantart.com)</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Chloe James sometimes felt that she was a victim of the crime too, as her husband prattled endlessly about it.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: black;">The only respite she received from her husband's neglect was the time she spent in her little Highgate florist shop. </span> </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: black;">The human contact and the aroma of a myriad flowers seemed to breathe life into her. </span> </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">She was convinced that she had been born in the wrong era and believed that she belonged in a more genteel age where they were no laptops or internet connection.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: black;">Unlike her husband who was busy conducting intense relationships with faceless people in cyberspace. </span> </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">One these new partners in crime was particularly persistent and intriguing and he called himself “Bill”and Arnold James particularly enjoyed their interactions.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Arnold James sat smoking in his red Jeep as he stared at the decaying old residence.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: black;">53 Old Kent Road was a haunted house. </span> </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: black;">After ruminating for a couple hours on what might have occurred within the rotting walls, he heard the unmistakable bleep of new messages in his in-box.</span><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: black;">"Bill" had contacted him. </span> </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
Arnold's eyes widened with astonishment as he began reading..</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
<i>"I have been working on the Anderson case for three years now. And at last I have pieced it all together"</i></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
His mouth was hanging open</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
<i>"I know who did it"</i></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
It was with a mounting sense of excitement that Arnold James finished the email.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
<i>"Meet me at the 53 Old Kent Road - Saturday morning at 8 am”</i></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i><br />
</i>The writer felt exhilarated.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“<span style="font-size: small;"><i>All will be revealed."</i></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
James quickly reeled off a response and pushed aside any nagging suspicions about "Bill".</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">He was like a man with tunnel vision coming out into the light and he decided there and then not to divulge what was happening to his wife.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: black;">There was no need to involve her in it. </span> </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Arnold James wanted to enjoy all the glory himself.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Nerdy “Bill” could be bought off later.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">James was already counting wads of money in his head as he drove home like a man possessed.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: black;">Three days passed in full throttle as the would-be writer prepared to meet his fate. </span> </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">He was convinced Chloe suspected something but the thrill of keeping a secret was too delicious to spoil.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: black;">Saturday morning finally arrived and Arnold James crept out of his house and sped to the crumbling old house. </span> </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">For some reason it was particularly foreboding this morning and James almost lost his nerve as he sat smoking in his Jeep.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">It was a bitterly cold morning.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
And the house's battered old mail box creaked in the wind.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Arnold James suddenly fought the urge to reverse his Jeep and drive home as he was suddenly overcome by unreasoning fear.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
But the prize he was about to win was worth much more to him than a few moments of doubt and apprehension.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Then he suddenly envisioned Chloe tossing and turning in their big bed; excluded and unaware of his little secret.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
And Arnold James leapt out his Jeep with renewed.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">But he couldn't deny his trepidation as he pushed the heavy door open.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
The old house was shrouded in darkness.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
Several large crows screeched loudly at the intruder interrupting their communion and Arnold James ducked as they flew past him out of the door.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: black;">Birds of ill-omen. </span> </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
Arnold's heart was beating fast now and as he surveyed the decaying abode, Arnold James belatedly realised that this was no longer a dream.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
The nightmare had stepped out of his over heated brain into the real world.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
The wall paper was peeling and curling off the walls.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
Broken pieces of furniture lay on the floor and there was on old and sodden sofa.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
All the windows were boarded up and the stench was terrible.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
Somebody had sprayed the walls with a large spidery slogan.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
<i>House of the Damned</i></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
Arnold James shivered with fright</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">It was no dream.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
And the house felt eerily silent as if he had stepped into an open grave.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
Arnold James had descended into the dark underbelly of a woe begotten and hellish place.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
And suddenly he was fighting the primal urge to run.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
"Keep it together!" Arnold James urged himself "I've come too far to blow it now!"</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
Suddenly he was in the kitchen where the gruesome killings had taken place.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The large mottled kitchen table stood before him.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
It was where the Miller's had been found dead.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
Arnold James had seen images of corpses with blank staring eyes and slit throats with dark blood everywhere.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
And he had replayed the scene countless times in his feverish mind.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
Arnold James retched; he was staring death in the face.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
Somebody had thoughtfully scrawled a big red cross on the kitchen table as a mocking declaration.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
"Bill!" Arnold James exclaimed into the gloom "Are you there?"</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
He had no intention of searching around the house and suddenly he yearned to be in the daylight again.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
There was no answer to his cry.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: black;">But somehow he knew he was no alone in the decrepit house. </span> </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
Something was moving around in the shadows.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
<i>"Bill!” </i>Arnold James demanded "Show yourself! I know you're there"</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
But there was still no response.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">And it had suddenly got very cold.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: black;">A large black crow screeched from the broken rooftop. </span> </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">It stared malevolently at Arnold James.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
"Come out!" James exclaimed forcefully.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">This internet nerd was pushing it now.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Something shifted in the gloom.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
A shadowy figure began to walk towards him.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
And Arnold James instinctively backed away.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: black;">It was not meant to happen this way and suddenly James remembered that the murderer had not been caught. </span> </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Arnold James had cause to regret his <i>r</i><i>endezvous</i>.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
Perhaps he was alone with a raving maniac.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
Arnold James squinted into the darkness.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">He thought his heart had stopped when the figure walked towards him suddenly illuminated by light through a shattered window.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">It <i>couldn’t </i>be ...</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
<i>"I've lost my mind"</i></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
Chloe James had emerged from the shadows, dressed all in black as if she were going to a funeral.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
Her pretty face was pale as a sheet, her lips crimson and her blonde hair scraped back.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
She looked like a vampire.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
"That's right!" Chloe declared "It's your <i>wife</i>! Remember <i>me</i>?"</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
There was a half smile on her face.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
This could not be happening</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: black;">“<span style="font-size: small;">What are you doing here?” Arnold James demanded indignantly. </span></span> </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
His wife threw back her head and laughed loudly and it reverberated around the rotting house. .</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
"Why are <i>you </i>here?" Her husband insisted with stunned bewilderment.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
"Why do you <i>think</i>?" Chloe answered him.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Arnold James slowly shook his head.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> <span style="font-size: small;">"I am Bill!" She added.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: black;">The words rang around them.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"I am Bill"</i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: black;"><br />
Arnold James was suddenly crestfallen; felled like a partridge hit by a hunter's bullet. </span> </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
<i>"I am Bill"</i></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
Chloe James was smiling knowingly at her husband and her dark eyes were flashing brightly.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
Her unflinching gaze chilled his bones and froze the blood in his veins.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
"What the hell is going on?"Arnold James demanded.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
"I've been pretending to be Bill for the last month" Chloe James explained "It wasn't hard to hook you in. I know <i>all </i>your weaknesses!"</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“<span style="font-size: small;">But why?”</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: black;"><br />
"It was the <i>only </i>way I could get your attention!" </span> </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“<span style="font-size: small;">This must be a nightmare ...”</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">"It's all <i>over </i>Arnie” She informed him dispassionately “I'm leaving you!"</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Tears filled the writer's eyes as he struggled to comprehend what was happening to him.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“<span style="font-size: small;">Don't go … I'll change”</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
"Goodbye Arnie!" Chloe James said simply and devastatingly.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
Arnold James was in hell.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">His wife had used his obsession to catch him out and he was caught like a rabbit in a snare.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: black;">James watched as his wife walked calmly to the door. </span> </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
Then she slowly turned to him.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
"If you dance with the devil" Chloe James informed him "eventually you have to pay the price"</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
Then she strode out of the place of death and desolation into the light.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7T14FruM17PvWMplA9VaQnBQeC1Iw0ZcAms5rknrPW6u8x0DXDK4oqSwE4Y_kVhPhBolw7aslXb-oQstjyB3ntHc8nKdOWJhWu3FK-TujTHzJ5caSjey0SsoSDzyAXUIh59yMd_2P9qo/s1600/Until+the+end+by+hearthy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7T14FruM17PvWMplA9VaQnBQeC1Iw0ZcAms5rknrPW6u8x0DXDK4oqSwE4Y_kVhPhBolw7aslXb-oQstjyB3ntHc8nKdOWJhWu3FK-TujTHzJ5caSjey0SsoSDzyAXUIh59yMd_2P9qo/s1600/Until+the+end+by+hearthy.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Until the end (by hearthy deviantart.com)</td></tr>
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="360" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/7z_Xsmk_ArQ" width="480"></iframe><br />
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* Please note that this is a re-worked version of <b>Dance With The Devil</b>Alex Karashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05398068721281907129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7825899785840631460.post-4251926336765453612014-11-18T17:47:00.000-08:002015-01-06T07:16:31.046-08:00Lady Afari's SecretCome now now from this country let us fly now I and thou<br />
To the garden come now<br />
by my hand take me now<br />
or to thy skirt let me cling now<br />
O come now to the garden now upon the bosom of thy beloved throw<br />
thou<br />
<br />
(V-The Flight, <b>Persian Songs:Erotic poetry From The Inmates Of The Harem Of Feteh Aly Shah</b>)<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYbOE2KY8ZnPKelbRUTgbD5Vh95N_j-ID_8ry3CRcPgCxeANSUzWUpGKLWmJMG-7D3iDXXTeD2CGJVnO3F3GlF-2UOfkWgX64qiM3pN6A_JhSCXSQbpeFez2YGXNs_-wP7z3OhdR8Y_OY/s1600/hasht_behesht_palace_ney_m.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYbOE2KY8ZnPKelbRUTgbD5Vh95N_j-ID_8ry3CRcPgCxeANSUzWUpGKLWmJMG-7D3iDXXTeD2CGJVnO3F3GlF-2UOfkWgX64qiM3pN6A_JhSCXSQbpeFez2YGXNs_-wP7z3OhdR8Y_OY/s1600/hasht_behesht_palace_ney_m.jpg" height="640" width="506" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Persian Woman 18 Century Painting (www.parstimes.com)</td></tr>
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<br />
<h3>
<span style="font-size: large;">The Harem of Delights</span></h3>
<br />
Formly Hall, Wonston, Hampshire<br />
<br />
1922.<br />
<br />
Sir Leopold Hawksworth had the good grace to die in his own bed.<br />
<br />
He had breathed his last in the early hours of a cold winter morning at the magnificent Formly Hall.<br />
<br />
The exact cause of his untimely demise was not divulged.<br />
<br />
But Dr Gustav Hauser had checked the pulse of the imposing man and any signs of breathing and had pronounced him deceased at 3 am in his huge antique bed.<br />
<br />
"I am afraid Sr Leopold is <i>abgestorben </i>" He informed his wife in a crisp German accent "Dead"<br />
<br />
Lady Afari Hawksworth promptly fainted and had to be revived with smelling salts by Nelly the maid.<br />
<br />
The majestic Formly Hall suddenly fell very silent.<br />
<br />
Lady Afari was already very wealthy when she first met her husband-to-be at the lavish wedding reception of Sir Charles and Petunia Buchanan at the <i>Hotel Café Royal</i> in London some twenty years before.<br />
<br />
Sir Leopold Hawksworth was immediately beguiled by the sphinx-like creature and her striking parents.<br />
<br />
They were loosely connected to the English rish set and stood out by courtesy of their swarthy looks and exotic pedigree.<br />
<br />
The girl with her parents must have been barely nineteen and Sir Leopold Hawksworth watched her every move like a hawk.<br />
<br />
"The Hosseini's" Captain Edward Greaves informed him "they're stinking rich and among the Persian elite"<br />
<br />
He took a long drag from his cigar.<br />
<br />
"Whose the girl?" Hawksworth enquired.<br />
<br />
"Afari Hosseini" Greaves replied.<br />
<br />
"She's a peach"<br />
<br />
"Isn't she just. Apparently, she's had one of those sheltered upbringing's like they do over there"<br />
<br />
"Poor little innocent"<br />
<br />
Captain Edward Greaves cocked an eyebrow.<br />
<br />
But a surge of chivalry was already pulsating through Sir Leopold's veins.<br />
<br />
He had suddenly forged a burning desire to rescue the captivating maiden from her prison-like existence. <br />
<br />
Hawksworth could picture the wretched girl now, veiled and pining behind a grille.<br />
<br />
"I<i> must</i> speak to her!" Sir Leopold Hawksworth declared with conviction.<br />
<br />
"You'll have to ask her father's permission first" Greaves warned him "they don't do anything without male approval"<br />
<br />
Within moments Sir Leopold had approached the girl's parents.<br />
<br />
Captain Edward Greaves shook his head as he observed the scene.<br />
<br />
"Damnable foreigners!" He muttered.<br />
<br />
The Hosseini's were natives of Tehran.<br />
<br />
Mahal Hosseini was a highly influential Persian oil tycoon.<br />
<br />
He lived in a palatial residence with his wife Azarin and his only daughter Afari and it was said that he was so rich that he could have bought the whole of Persia itself.<br />
<br />
It was Afari Hosseini's first trip to London.<br />
<br />
Although she could speak four languages, she had never been out of her country before and it was a completely new experience.<br />
<br />
Sir Leopold Hawkworth was 6 ft tall and twenty years older than the object of his affection.<br />
<br />
He was extremely good-looking with dancing hazel eyes, sleek black hair and a fine curling moustache.<br />
<br />
Sir Leopold Hawksworth was a son of the English aristocracy and a decorated Admiral and lived in inestimable splendour at Formly Hall which had been the family seat for nearly four centuries.<br />
<br />
Formly Hall was a magnificent stately home situated in Wonston, Hampshire with seventy-five enormous rooms and surrounded by hundreds of acres of rolling countryside.<br />
<br />
The former Admiral was urbane, well travelled and had an eye for beauty.<br />
<br />
He had a taste for acquiring exotic artefact's from far-flung places and the mysterious Afari Hosseini was the kind of rare and beautiful <i>objet d'art</i> that he just knew he had to possess.<br />
<br />
Sir Leopold Hawksworth had earned his stripes in the Great War and up until now he had been a self-avowed bachelor; dallying with the daughters of the gentry and had a <i>laissez-faire</i> approach to life.<br />
<br />
But on this fateful night he was convinced that all that was about to change.<br />
<br />
Sir Leopold was extremely charming and took care to ingratiate himself with Mahal Hosseini.<br />
<br />
Hosseini was a proud Persian man who listened more than he spoke and when he did speak - he did so in measured doses.<br />
<br />
"My daughter is a<i> </i>good girl!" He informed Sir Leopold in a heavily accented voice.<br />
<br />
Afari Hosseini smiled and lowered her eyes.<br />
<br />
"She is very<i> artistic</i>" her father added mysteriously.<br />
<br />
Afari Hosseini kept her eyes averted but there was a little smile upon her face.<br />
<br />
The girl was dressed in a white satin gown, a necklace of priceless jewels glittered about her neck and her thick black hair piled high above her head.<br />
<br />
She had totally eclipsed the bride.<br />
<br />
When he was sure that he had won the trust of Mahal and Azarin Hosseini, Sir Leopold Hawksworth introduced himself to their daughter.<br />
<br />
He was struck by how childlike she appeared with her wide eyes and vulnerable air.<br />
<br />
"Poor little innocent" Sir Leopold sighed to himself.<br />
<br />
She must have led a cloistered existence in Tehran; locked away from prying eyes and the rude stare of the sun.<br />
<br />
"Women are like jewels that should guarded against the covetous gaze of men" Mahal Hosseini informed Sir Leopold Hawksworth<br />
<br />
The former Admiral was also partial to the Arthurian legends and he was quite sure that he was about to rescue this delectable creature from her prison like existence.<br />
<br />
Sir Leopold was fascinated by the air of mystery that surrounded the young girl but there was also something else going on behind her sultry almond shaped black eyes.<br />
<br />
Afari Hosseini was olive-skinned and petite.<br />
<br />
She had large slanting black eyes and glossy black hair and moved gracefully like flowing water.<br />
<br />
Afari Hosseini was Cleopatra come alive.<br />
<br />
Her curious accent and pretty laugh sent shivers down Sir Leopold Hawkworth's spine.<br />
<br />
The former Admiral regaled her with colourful tales about his travels and of his vast collection of artefact's from around the world.<br />
<br />
"I have never been further then our gardens" Afari Hosseini informed him with wide eyes.<br />
<br />
<i>"Good Lord, she is no more than a child"</i><br />
<br />
Sir Leopold Hawksworth was suddenly rendered speechless as his shock was mingled with pity for the captivating creature.<br />
<br />
His mind was full of visions of Afari Hosseini imprisoned in a high walled tower by cruel khalif's.<br />
<br />
"Poor little innocent" Sir Leopold Hawksworth repeated to himself.<br />
<br />
She was a Persian Princess.<br />
<br />
Hawksworth could picture her walking gracefully through the grounds of Formly Hall with a flower in her raven hair.<br />
<br />
He felt his member stirring and he suddenly felt guilty.<br />
<br />
Afari Hosseini was an innocent.<br />
<br />
How could he entertain such vulgar yearnings? <br />
<br />
Her father was a shrewd man.<br />
<br />
Mahal Hosseini was wise to Sir Leopold's intentions.<br />
<br />
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He was eager to match his daughter with a member of the aristocracy, even if he secretly regarded the English as barbaric marauders.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgWZWS45_TlEMX8Fm-_r4PvDKyyANdnLK-v-dDCnZJg7CXJghDHaqP-sHHi-Wosec0ItamxPRm24yati4CMHpnBa2cBfz3YzFW_eQMs1wGmx60WQGX-funV0SHL6IPlobAMI-igQGuipM/s1600/Nayika+by+Yatindra.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgWZWS45_TlEMX8Fm-_r4PvDKyyANdnLK-v-dDCnZJg7CXJghDHaqP-sHHi-Wosec0ItamxPRm24yati4CMHpnBa2cBfz3YzFW_eQMs1wGmx60WQGX-funV0SHL6IPlobAMI-igQGuipM/s1600/Nayika+by+Yatindra.jpg" height="640" width="404" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nayika (by Yatindra deviantart.com)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
"There is an Arabic saying" Hosseini informed Sir Leopold "that you will find an Englishman under every rock"<br />
<br />
Then he laughed.<br />
<br />
Mahal Hosseini had been whispering instructions in his daughter's ear about how to conduct herself with the former Admiral and she dutifully obeyed them.<br />
<br />
Sir Leopold was completely captivated.<br />
<br />
The day before the Hosseini's were due to return to their country, Sir Leopold Hawksworth went down on one knee to propose to Afari in the foyer of the <i>Hilton</i> <i>Hotel</i>.<br />
<br />
Her father nodded for her to agree and the young girl avidly complied.<br />
<br />
"You made me the happiest man alive!" Sir Leopold cried as he placed a diamond and ruby ring upon her slender finger.<br />
<br />
Mahal and Azarin Hosseini were looking proudly o.<br />
<br />
Their daughter had made a perfect match.<br />
<br />
And they expected Sir Leopold to keep their daughter in the manner to which she was accustomed. <br />
<br />
Mahal gave a knowing smile.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
</div>
"My daughter will obey your every command" Azarin Hosseini assured Sir Leopold Hawksworth later.<br />
<br />
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<div style="text-align: right;">
</div>
A broad grin crept across his face.<br />
<br />
"She is such a little innocent" he sighed. <br />
<br />
There was an unmistakable gleam in Azarin's black eyes.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
</div>
Sir Leopold Hawksworth was looking forward to a blissful life with his Persian bride.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
</div>
He never noticed Mahal Hosseini smirking behind his hand.<br />
<br />
There were ill-concealed expressions of shock and horror when Sir Leopold Hawksworth bought Afari Hosseini to Hampshire to be his wife.<br />
<br />
The English aristocracy were scandalised by the appearance of the exotic female on the arm of the strapping former Admiral and alarm rippled through the ranks.<br />
<br />
The wedding proceeded promptly with a majestic ceremony at Winchester Cathedral and a lavish reception at Arundel Castle which was attended by King George V and his Queen consort, Mary of Tek<br />
<br />
Polite society were outraged by Sir Leopold Hawksworth's choice of bride.<br />
<br />
But the media were in a frenzy.<br />
<br />
<i>King George and Queen Mary watched Lord Hawksworth marry a dusky maiden from Persia at Winchester Cathedral today. It was a thoroughly English affair even if the bride and her party are from the Orient. </i><br />
<br />
Not only was the new Lady Hawksworth unutterably foreign but apparently she wasn't even a Christian.<br />
<br />
The chattering classes could barely bring themselves to say it out loud; but Sir Leopold had deigned to marry a "Mohammedan".<br />
<br />
<i>"A heathen from the barbarous east"</i><br />
<br />
And there were even rumours that Mahal Hosseini had actually sold his daughter to the former Admiral and that the bride and groom had attended a "pagan Moslem ritual" before the ceremony at Winchester Cathedral.<br />
<br />
Lady Hilda Gladstone was one of the appalled women who objected to Sir Leopold's choice of bride and she was determined to transform her into a respectable English woman of substance.<br />
<br />
The self-righteous matron regarded herself as Lady Afari Hawksworth's moral guardian.<br />
<br />
"My wife is a little innocent" Sir Leopold informed her.<br />
<br />
"And she is little more than a child!" Lady Hilda declared "I will see to it that she remains untainted by the evils of the world!"<br />
<br />
"I am most beholden to you"<br />
<br />
"Those swarthy idolaters with their big manly chests and their big hands ... and their big ..." <br />
<br />
Lady Hilda Gladstone was quivering and fanning herself as she sauntered out. <br />
<br />
Sir Leopold vetoed the older woman's Tuesday afternoon visits which were an occasion for religious instruction and the tutoring of refined English sensibilities. <br />
<br />
The former Admiral had introduced his new wife to his love of rare artifact's and he had taken her along to Sotheby's in London.<br />
<br />
Lady Afari was fascinated by the grand auction house and became a frequent visitor.<br />
<br />
She immediately became obsessed with acquiring <i>recherché</i> pieces<br />
<br />
Sir Leopold assigned a special room for his wife's collection.<br />
<br />
He never questioned his wife and her purchases remained locked away.<br />
<br />
It was her sanctuary but one day he ventured into the secret room and was flabbergasted by what he found.<br />
<br />
His inscrutable young wife had evidently acquired a fascination for <i>erotica </i>and she had obtained quite a sizable aggregation of rare, erotic Indo-Persian and Mughal miniatures.<br />
<br />
The images explicitly depicted couples in various states of <i>flagrante delicto</i>.<br />
<br />
"Good grief!" Sir Leopold Hawksworth cried.<br />
<br />
He was struggling to reconcile his "innocent flower" with the risqué collection.<br />
<br />
Mahal Hosseini's words were ringing in his ears.<br />
<br />
<i>"She is very artistic"</i><br />
<div>
<br /></div>
Sir Leopold could feel his member stirring.<br />
<br />
His palms were sweaty as he locked the door behind him.<br />
<br />
The door to his wife's secret pleasure.<br />
<br />
Francis Marie Hawksworth soon followed and the little family was complete. <br />
<br />
One afternoon, Lady Hilda was having tea in the huge drawing room when she suddenly noticed something that almost made her drop her china cup.<br />
<br />
"Good Lord!" She cried.<br />
<br />
There was an ornately carved ivory table with a circle of naked nymphs writhing suggestively around it's elegant legs.<br />
<br />
The sight of bare breasts and female private parts soon had the older woman fanning herself with a silk handkerchief.<br />
<br />
"The fruit of your heathen upbringing!" Lady Hilda Gladstone informed her host.<br />
<br />
Lady Afari Hawksworth smiled sweetly.<br />
<br />
"More tea, dear?" She enquired.<br />
<br />
Lady Hilda Gladstone set about tutoring her young pupil with gusto.<br />
<br />
Very soon even Lady Afari's most ardent detractors were galvanised by the way she appeared to have been transformed into a bastion of the British Empire.<br />
<br />
In fact, she was now more English than they were.<br />
<br />
And she attended church every Sunday. <br />
<br />
Lady Hilda Gladstone had excelled herself and she was supremely triumphant.<br />
<br />
Another foreigner had been subdued and the possible invasion of the British Isle's by swarthy savages had been averted.<br />
<br />
Those were halcyon days and they were a memory now.<br />
<br />
Lady Afari Hawksworth had been relaxing with her female friends in the enormous drawing room when news of her husband's passing was bought to her by a manservant.<br />
<br />
She promptly fainted and had to be revived with smelling salts by Nelly, the maid.<br />
<br />
Her daughter burst into harsh sobs.<br />
<br />
And as Francis Marie clung to her mother, Lady Afari suddenly felt very alone in the huge residence.<br />
<br />
The teenager had just lost her best friend and mentor.<br />
<br />
Francis Marie was dark like her mother but had her father's sparkling hazel eyes and witty smile.<br />
<br />
She was already very pretty and was just becoming aware of her feminine powers.<br />
<br />
The funeral of Sir Leopold Hawksworth was as grand as his gesture's had been.<br />
<br />
Winchester Cathedral was full of mourners that wet Friday afternoon.<br />
<br />
King George and his Queen consort Mary of Tek had sent sincere condolences on remembrance of a man "who was more of a friend than a friend could be".<br />
<br />
Sir Leopold had been a popular figure and the public were genuinely grieved at his passing.<br />
<br />
Lady Afari looked wan in her widows crape, elegant hat and veil as Francis Marie somberly accompanied her mother in black satin.<br />
<br />
Camera's flashed wildly as mother and daughter followed the coffin into the cathedral.<br />
<br />
As if in anticipation of the sad day, the sky remained overcast and by the time Sir Leopold Hawksworth had been interned in the imposing family vault it was already lashing down with rain.<br />
<br />
A splendid reception followed the funeral at Formly Hall in honour of Sir Leopold.<br />
<br />
No expense had been spared and a fine spread had been laid out for the great company of mourners. <br />
<br />
Lady Afari sat beside Lady Evelyn Squires.<br />
<br />
The insufferable woman had been regaling the new widow about her own husband's passing ten years before.<br />
<br />
Apparently, Captain Guilbert Gladstone had gone down with his ship and "drowned in the bitter Atlantic ocean".<br />
<br />
"They never found his cadaver!" Lady Evelyn sniffed as she wiped away a tear.<br />
<br />
She was homely, short and plump with greying auburn hair and pale blue eyes.<br />
<br />
"What are you going to do in a big residence like this all on your own?" She asked Lady Afari after she had sufficiently recovered.<br />
<br />
The widow fixed Lady Evelyn with her most sincere gaze.<br />
<br />
"I will sew smocks for the poor and make raspberry jam for the church" she replied.<br />
<br />
"Oh, how wonderful of you my dear!"<br />
<br />
"Every new day is a good day if lived for the Lord" Lady Afari Hawksworth informed the prying older woman piously before gliding gracefully away.<br />
<br />
"Such a dear soul!" Lady Evelyn Squires sighed.<br />
<br />
"One can't help but admire her" Lady Rose Attlee declared beside her.<br />
<br />
"She's very brave".<br />
<br />
"And still such an <i>innocent</i> creature"<br />
<br />
"All her beauty will go to waste" Lady Evelyn Squires declared dramatically as she took a sip of tea.<br />
<br />
Both women watched Lady Afari as she mingled among the mourners.<br />
<br />
"Life can be <i>so</i> cruel!" Lady Rose Attlee pronounced.<br />
<br />
Attlee was a thin, nervy woman with grey hair and piercing green eyes.<br />
<br />
"Poor Lady Afari" She added "still an innocent"<br />
<br />
She was destined to spend the rest of her days in genteel resplendence as she dedicated her life to doing good deeds for charity.<br />
<br />
A <i>virgin</i> again.<br />
<br />
The two older women sighed together.<br />
<br />
Lady Afari sat demurely beside Lady Hilda Gladstone.<br />
<br />
Nobody had noticed that the newly widowed woman had been quietly surveying the most eligible men among the mourners.<br />
<br />
And silently sizing them up from beneath her veil.<br />
<br />
Lady Afari kept her eyes modestly lowered as she made a mental note of all the most delectable men.<br />
<br />
It suddenly felt as if she were meeting them all for the first time.<br />
<br />
The charming ones, the unfaithful ones, the promising ones, the desirable ones ...<br />
<br />
Lady Afari had a little smile upon her face as she observed her daughter.<br />
<br />
Francis Marie had captivated a handsome young man by the fireplace and he looked smitten.<br />
<br />
Lady Afari had indeed taught her daughter well.<br />
<br />
"Poor little innocent!" Lady Hilda Gladstone cried as she patted Lady Afari's hand.<br />
<br />
Then she prattled on about her late husband Gasper and how her Oxford educated son had emigrated to Australia.<br />
<br />
But Lady Afari Hawksworth was already distracted by the sight of a taught male bottom.<br />
<br />
She licked her lips.<br />
<br />
Lady Hilda continued to recount her tragic tale until she was stopped in mid flow by the sight of a very good-looking young man kneeling at Lady Afari's feet.<br />
<br />
He was clutching his hat to his chest.<br />
<br />
"Good Lord!" The older woman gasped.<br />
<br />
The young man was very good looking with wavy brown hair and crisp green eyes and could barely be in his twenties.<br />
<br />
"Lady Afari!" He declared "If there is <i>anything</i> I can do, please let me know!"<br />
<br />
To all intents and purposes he was Sir Lancelot pledging his devotion to Guinevere.<br />
<br />
Lady Afari's eyes had lit up.<br />
<br />
"What is your name?" She asked him.<br />
<br />
"Samson" he answered "Samson Lockhart"<br />
<br />
"Ah, yes. Son of Sir Theodore. Lately of Friar Grange"<br />
<br />
The young man nodded eagerly.<br />
<br />
Now she remembered.<br />
<br />
Only yesterday he was just a toddler running about.<br />
<br />
Who would have thought that he would grow into such a strapping young man?<br />
<br />
Lady Hilda Gladstone had been stunned into silence.<br />
<br />
"I'm sure I can find something for you to do" Lady Afari grinned.<br />
<br />
Samson Lockhart sprang to his feet and bounded out of the huge drawing room while his new mistress devoured him with her sultry black eyes.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb_9nB-G_Z5II1Fja6Kj6JxwkasnDyYQmlZE9AZxB2Z-Xwu0LrL46ou9zAu9VtshOkNJmpl_SQMhy9EYuc-ptvqEhGGmpyJ1EY26ab21c8ajYak7moYnx49kMc7WhDJygdHxrKrSC-L50/s1600/Sun+Temple+Detail+6+by+Yatindra.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb_9nB-G_Z5II1Fja6Kj6JxwkasnDyYQmlZE9AZxB2Z-Xwu0LrL46ou9zAu9VtshOkNJmpl_SQMhy9EYuc-ptvqEhGGmpyJ1EY26ab21c8ajYak7moYnx49kMc7WhDJygdHxrKrSC-L50/s1600/Sun+Temple+Detail+6+by+Yatindra.jpg" height="640" width="432" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sun Temple Detail 6 (by Yatindra deviantart.com)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Lady Hilda Gladstone had begun fanning herself against a sudden hot flush.<br />
<br />
"The boy behaved as if you were the Queen of Sheba!" She informed Lady Afari in a tremulous voice.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
The new widow smiled back knowingly.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
Many lamented that Formly Hall would now be a mausoleum to the memory of Sir Leopold Hawksworth.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
And indeed, often times Lady Afari and Francis Marie were spied visiting the family vault where the former Admiral had been interned.<br />
<br />
Mother and daughter placed a bouquet of roses at the foot of Sir Leopold's tomb and after some quiet moments alone with him they emerged into the daylight again.<br />
<br />
This ritual was undertaken every week and the media soon heard of it and filled their newspapers with captions declaring the're tragic plight.<br />
<br />
<i>Sad Lady Afari and her daughter emerge from the family vault after leaving a dozen red roses. The world was stunned by the sudden death of Sir Leopold two months ago leaving his dusky wife a widow and his daughter fatherless. "We will carry Leo in our hearts" Lady Afari declared shortly after the funeral. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
Pictures of Lady Afari visiting orphanages and pledging money donations to charities soon filled the dailies.<br />
<br />
And it so it seemed that the beautiful widow had consigned herself to a quiet country life.<br />
<br />
Then late one morning she had an unexpected visitor.<br />
<br />
Lady Afari was delighted when the butler ushered in young Samson Lockhart into the large drawing room.<br />
<br />
She was just taking her tea when the handsome young man strode purposefully in.<br />
<br />
"What a pleasant surprise!" Lady Afari declared as she rose from her seat.<br />
<br />
Samson Lockhart took off his hat and kissed her hand with a flourish.<br />
<br />
"I have come to offer my services to you!" Lockhart informed her.<br />
<br />
She suddenly noticed how taught his chest was beneath the tweed jacket and how vulgar the cleft was in his chin.<br />
<br />
"What do you like to do?" Lady Afari asked him.<br />
<br />
The question hung in the air.<br />
<br />
"Do you like to ride?" She added.<br />
<br />
Then she smiled.<br />
<br />
Francis Marie returned to Formly Hall later that afternoon and enquired after her mother.<br />
<br />
"She's down at the stable's with Sir Lockhart ma'am" Nelly, the maid informed her.<br />
<br />
By the time Francis Marie reached the stables, her mother and Samson Lockhart were just trotting in on their white stallions.<br />
<br />
Lady Afari greeted her daughter with a warm smile.<br />
<br />
"I've been riding him all afternoon" she informed her.<br />
<br />
Samson Lockhart flashed Francis Marie with a broad grin.<br />
<br />
Several weeks later and Lady Afari was entertaining Lady Hilda Gladstone to their customary tea in the large drawing room.<br />
<br />
"I see that young Samson has made himself utterly indispensable to you" Lady Hilda Gladstone observed as she sipped her tea.<br />
<br />
Nothing appeared to escape her.<br />
<br />
"His performance is most satisfactory" Lady Hawksworth replied with a smile.<br />
<br />
Nelly the maid appeared at the door.<br />
<br />
She was tiny and fair-haired with blue eyes and quick movements. <br />
<br />
"Sorry to interrupt you ma'am, but Count Yefimov has arrived" Nelly announced.<br />
<br />
Lady Hilda's eyes widened with surprise.<br />
<br />
"You remember Count Yefimov? Maxim Yefimov, friend of the Romanov's?"<br />
<br />
The older women had been rendered speechless.<br />
<br />
"Please show our Russian friend in, Nelly"<br />
<br />
Within moments a strapping man had bounded into the drawing room.<br />
<br />
"Greetings and felicitations!" Count Maxim Yefimov addressed the two women.<br />
<br />
Lady Hilda Gladstone had suddenly become rather flustered.<br />
<br />
Count Maxim doffed his cap with a flourish.<br />
<br />
"Might I introduce Lady Gladstone" Lady Afari gestured.<br />
<br />
"Au chante!" Count Yefimov cried as he bent low and kissed Lady Hilda Gladstone's hand.<br />
<br />
The older woman blushed violently.<br />
<br />
Count Maxim Yefimov was 6 ft tall and well set with wavy black hair, brown eyes and distinguishably handsome features.<br />
<br />
"The Count has come to view my private collection" Lady Afari Hawksworth informed Lady Gladstone.<br />
<br />
The older woman got the hint.<br />
<br />
She quickly rose from her seat.<br />
<br />
"Well ... it's been nice to meet you" Lady Hilda declared in a tremulous little voice.<br />
<br />
"I can assure you that the pleasure is all <i>mine</i>" Count Maxim Yefimov assured her with a smile.<br />
<br />
Lady Hilda Gladstone began to fan herself.<br />
<br />
Then she quickly hurried out of the large drawing room.<br />
<br />
Lady Afari Hawksworth maintained the status of a dignified widow.<br />
<br />
Even though a steady stream of men appeared to be passing through her private sanctuary at Formly Hall.<br />
<br />
Some of the men were married and others were eligible bachelors.<br />
<br />
Nelly the maid and Edward the butler, were both given strict instructions not to disturb their mistress when she was "entertaining" a male guest in the secret room.<br />
<br />
The sight of attractive men entering and leaving Formly Hall several hours later soon became an almost daily occurrence.<br />
<br />
One disgruntled wife had convinced herself that her husband was conducting a liaison with Lady Afari Hawksworth. <br />
<br />
On a windy winter's day, she appeared at Formly Hall without announcement.<br />
<br />
Lady
Penelope Cholmsley had been married to her husband for twenty-five
years and they had settled into a humdrum domesticity at Chester House.<br />
<br />
She was a nervy and slight redhead with clear blue eyes and a thin red mouth. <br />
<br />
Ignoring
the imploring maid, Lady Penelope pushed her way past.<br />
<br />
"Come
out, Finian Cholmsley!" Lady Cholmsley yelled as she pounded on the
door of the locked room with her fists "I know you're in there with <i>her</i>!"<br />
<br />
There was no answer.<br />
<br />
"Come out you hussy!" Lady Hilda added forcefully. <br />
<br />
After several long moments the door finally opened.<br />
<br />
Lady Afari Hawksworth expressed mortification at the combative woman. <br />
<br />
"What can the matter be, my dear?"<br />
<br />
Lady Penelope strode determinedly in.<br />
<br />
"Where is he?" She demanded loudly.<br />
<br />
Then her hand suddenly flew to her mouth as she stared at the countless erotic paintings on the wall and erotic Indian sculptures.<br />
<br />
They were everywhere. <br />
<br />
Lady Penelope Cholmsley had never seen so many vaginas and penises before. <br />
<br />
She was filled with horror. <br />
<br />
"Lurid images depicting human animals mating!" Lady Penelope exclaimed with disgust "The fruit of your <i>unbridled</i> sensuality!"<br />
<br />
"What could you possibly be referring to?" Lady Afari replied innocently.<br />
<br />
It was then that Lady Penelope noticed the unfamiliar man observing them from the chaise longue.<br />
<br />
He was attractive with chestnut hair and hazel eyes.<br />
<br />
Suddenly Lady Penelope Cholmsely noticed that he was sitting beneath an explicit Indo-Persian miniature of a couple enthusiastically engaging in fellatio. <br />
<br />
She gasped at the depiction of a large erect penis. <br />
<br />
The man appeared to be holding a wad of letters in his big hands.<br />
<br />
"Sir Ralf Sadler of Ravenlea Manor" Lady Afari informed Lady Penelope Cholmsley.<br />
<br />
The man cocked an eyebrow.<br />
<br />
Then he grinned at her showing sharp white teeth. <br />
<br />
Lady Penelope's bravado had suddenly deserted her. <br />
<br />
"He does me the kindness of reading my late husband's letters to me" Lady Afari Hawksworth explained "Listening to a male voice read those words brings my Leopold back to life ... like Lazarus"<br />
<br />
The widow gave out a long sigh.<br />
<br />
Lady Penelope suddenly felt ashamed of herself.<br />
<br />
"Only the good Lord knows my grief" Lady Afari added sadly.<br />
<br />
"But where is my Finian?" Lady Penelope wailed.<br />
<br />
"After inspecting my collection he went riding with my daughter" Lady Afari answered "I'm sure they'll be back shortly"<br />
<br />
Lady Penelope felt crestfallen.<br />
<br />
Lady Afari Hawksworth was smiling benevolently at her. <br />
<br />
"Please forgive me .., I'm so sorry to intrude like this ... please accept my sincere apologies" Lady Cholmsley stuttered.<br />
<br />
She was inwardly chiding herself for being so hysterical. <br />
<br />
Sir Ralf Sadler grinned at her and patted a place beside him on the chaise longue. <br />
<br />
Lady Penelope Cholmsely noticed how muscular his big legs were.<br />
<br />
She quickly turned on her heels and hurried out of the room.<br />
<br />
Lady Penelope never heard the giggling in her wake. <br />
<br />
She went home a changed woman.<br />
<br />
And Lady Penelope Cholmsley never questioned her husband again.<br />
<br />
Lady Afari Hawksworth continued to attend to her charitable pursuits and to take her illuminating class with Lady Hilda Gladstone.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
She employed a music master named Matthew Grey to teach her and her daughter how to play the piano.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVZ7fTssgUBSmcJg1pf45AF1ypI3SrltBo4dJQ7YWzFIA1tM0GDYs9WArV-vdt-6lgduIo8tmCppicjEVs4qo18AKGj5UkcZAmlXHwzONA5Ylp65IuH_RwobEczZ7aCHsKHBFOpNaMRhA/s1600/Yama+by+Yatindra.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVZ7fTssgUBSmcJg1pf45AF1ypI3SrltBo4dJQ7YWzFIA1tM0GDYs9WArV-vdt-6lgduIo8tmCppicjEVs4qo18AKGj5UkcZAmlXHwzONA5Ylp65IuH_RwobEczZ7aCHsKHBFOpNaMRhA/s1600/Yama+by+Yatindra.jpg" height="640" width="432" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yama (by Yatindra deviantart.com)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
He was a strapping man with brown hair and blue eyes. <br />
<br />
"Mr Grey and Master Samson are keeping me occupied these days" Lady Afari informed Lady Hilda Gladstone with a smile.<br />
<br />
The older woman's eyes widened over the rim of her china cup. <br />
<br />
"Mr Grey is teaching me new things" Lady Afari added sweetly. <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
</div>
Lady Hilda Gladstone was already becoming suspicious of the men who appeared to be passing through the doors of Formly Hall. <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
</div>
But thus far, she kept her thoughts strictly to herself.<br />
<br />
<b>One Year Later</b><br />
<br />
At a lavish dinner party at Formly Hall one autumn evening, Lady Afari Hawksworth looked about her and struggled to find one man she hadn't "entertained" in her secret sanctuary.<br />
<br />
Then she noticed an unfamiliar man at a far end of the huge table.<br />
<br />
He was unmistakably good looking. <br />
<br />
"Sir Rufus Delamere" Francis Marie informed her mother "a friend of daddy's. Of French stock and frightfully upper-class"<br />
<br />
"He's very striking"<br />
<br />
Sir Rufus Delamere was suave and handsome with chiselled features, sleek black hair and glittering hazel eyes.<br />
<br />
He flashed his hostess a broad grin.<br />
<br />
And a shiver ran down her spine.<br />
<br />
"I think he'll do nicely" Lady Afari declared. <br />
<br />
By the end of the evening, the couple had become inseparable and Lady Hilda Gladstone was watching their every move like a hawk. <br />
<br />
Several weeks later, Sir Rufus Delamere publicly announced his
engagement to Lady Afari Hawksworth and the media went into overdrive.<br />
<br />
The couple were pictured walking through the grounds of Formly Hall and the glittering emerald and sapphire engagement ring was front page news.<br />
<br />
Later they became the main attraction at Royal Ascot. <br />
<br />
<i>Sir Rufus Delamere looked dapper as he accompanied his intended to Royal Ascot. Lady Afari was radiant in a blue satin gown by Coco Chanel and an elegant Sally Milgrim hat. All eyes were upon the dazzling couple as they avidly followed the races beside Prince George. The wedding promises to be the big event of 1924 and the marriage ceremony is fêted to be conducted at Westminster Abbey.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
But one woman was not convinced about the happy couple.<br />
<br />
Lady Hilda Gladstone had been closely observing Lady Afari for some time.<br />
<br />
And as her impending marriage approached, Lady Hilda decided to act.<br />
<br />
She decided to approach Sir Rufus Delamere with her suspicions.<br />
<br />
It was her duty. <br />
<br />
The besotted man expressed complete disbelief at the allegations. <br />
<br />
"Lady Afari is the purist soul I have ever met!" He cried. <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
</div>
"I am afraid that her innocent visage hides a serpentine mind" Lady Hilda Gladstone declared in a frenzy.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
</div>
Sir Rufus shook his head.<br />
<br />
Lady Gladstone was very persistent, insisting that he desist from seeing Lady Afari lest she "seduce you with her silky lies". <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
</div>
"What do you expect from a heathen Mohammeden from the licentious east!" She added <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
</div>
Within days the engagement had been called off and Sir Rufus Delamere had retreated to his imposing villa in Provence. <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
</div>
The media were quick to report the split.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
</div>
Lady Afari was pictured walking through the grounds of her vast estate as she clung onto the arm of her daughter.<br />
<br />
She was also pictured dining alone at the <i>Ritz</i>. <br />
<br />
The media quickly began to depict Lady Afari Hawksworth as a tragic woman doomed to live alone for the rest of her days.<br />
<br />
"You have ruined my life!" She informed Lady Hilda Gladstone.<br />
<br />
"I am your moral guardian and it is my duty to protect your good name and reputation!" Lady Hilda replied loftily with her head held high.<br />
<br />
The large drawing room had fallen silent and the tea was getting cold.<br />
<br />
"Then you'll agree to refrain from visiting me" Lady Afari announced "if you have entertained such dark insinuations about me then I suggest we part company"<br />
<br />
Lady Hilda Gladstone was rendered speechless.<br />
<br />
There was a chill in the air. <br />
<br />
"If that is how you feel ..."<br />
<br />
"The men you refer to so blithely have been half a balm to me in my hour of need"<br />
<br />
"Please let me explain Lady Afari!" <br />
<br />
"You have disgraced me and you are no longer welcome in my home" Lady Afari Hawksworth pronounced icily "Now, would you kindly leave!"<br />
<br />
<b>Three Months Later</b><br />
<br />
Lady Hilda Gladstone had decided to pay Lady Hawksworth an unexpected visit.<br />
<br />
In a spirit of reconciliation she had even bought a homemade ginger cake with her.<br />
<br />
She had been sufficiently chastised and desired to make amends. <br />
<br />
"Lady Hawksworth is entertaining Prince Carlos" Nelly the maid informed the older woman at the door.<br />
<br />
"Please, would you kindly give her my gift" Lady Hilda informed her, handing her the cake.<br />
<br />
"Yes, ma'am" Nelly replied obediently. <br />
<br />
And with that, Lady Hilda Gladstone departed.<br />
<br />
She knew better than to question Lady Afari Hawksworth.<br />
<br />
And Lady Hilda was confidant that they would shortly be rekindling their friendship and sipping tea together in the large drawing room.<br />
<br />
It would soon be like the old days again.<br />
<br />
As if nothing untoward had ever occurred between them. <br />
<br />
In the secret locked room, Prince Carlos of Spain was lying naked on the chaise longue.<br />
<br />
He was swarthy and handsome with curly black hair, piercing black eyes and a hairy muscled body, <br />
<br />
The couple had met at a polo match the day before.<br />
<br />
And Lady Afari Hawksworth was impressed by his performance and the way he rode his horse and she was confident that he would show his expertise in other areas too.<br />
<br />
She had already regaled him with sultry tales of her escapades with the Spanish manservant at her home in Tehran as a teenager.<br />
<br />
The Persian beauty had even explained how her late husband had died.<br />
<br />
"In the act of love" she sighed. <br />
<br />
Now Prince Carlos was showing himself eager to satisfy her every desire.<br />
<br />
She had seen him ride.<br />
<br />
She knew what he could do. <br />
<br />
"Delicious" Lady Afari sighed as she slowly surveyed his naked body.<br />
<br />
She ran her finger along his hairy muscled chest all the way down to his fulsome member.<br />
<br />
"You're perfect" <br />
<br />
And then she slowly undressed beneath a mughal miniature of a couple fornicating on an oriental rug,<br />
<br />
Lady Afari had assured Prince Carlos of Spain that they would not be disturbed.<br />
<br />
Her daughter was otherwise indisposed.<br />
<br />
"Screwing Master Samson in her room" she assured her lover. <br />
<br />
Prince Carlos was grinning broadly and anticipating the sexual gymnastics to come.<br />
<br />
This was going to be a fuck to remember. <br />
<br />
"I think we'll take our time today" Lady Afari Hawksworth purred. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMuhm4k39G-2IRpS_yE4iFUNHzbWLNMntXtA8lJ7I3qgj2LbXUtGpgAILIe58jWoygEKaO-ws319dcEF1Kw5Thj50Nwp5K7NqZ9VmxSJ0Fhejnmm-YWLN-jZbqHKA64_6d4tbyWxeNA3s/s1600/Sun+Temple+Detail+5+by+Yatindra.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMuhm4k39G-2IRpS_yE4iFUNHzbWLNMntXtA8lJ7I3qgj2LbXUtGpgAILIe58jWoygEKaO-ws319dcEF1Kw5Thj50Nwp5K7NqZ9VmxSJ0Fhejnmm-YWLN-jZbqHKA64_6d4tbyWxeNA3s/s1600/Sun+Temple+Detail+5+by+Yatindra.jpg" height="640" width="407" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sun Temple Detail 5 (by Yatindra deviantart.com)</td></tr>
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<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/drYYU9ZXM8k" width="560"></iframe><br />
<br />
<br />Alex Karashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05398068721281907129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7825899785840631460.post-19500244145898759752014-11-02T15:45:00.000-08:002015-01-25T03:36:53.640-08:00Bite The Cherry<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">When you touch me</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">tease me</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">kiss me</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">please me, it's always right</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b>All you can take</b> by Whitney</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAGJ_1IM2lnV5TX2p9nP-BYEdKCdSEgo9GMXOcaOx_SBvfycELvVLU84bJvgBrCiyYhBiUMeZJLqhOmylsvViH2PA_TWzxZN6rjm87FAk6FJY3tiPc6Rc5l46Ixwy55LzTWUfLgVpE8hM/s1600/Blue+Tatoo+by+Marci+McDonald.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAGJ_1IM2lnV5TX2p9nP-BYEdKCdSEgo9GMXOcaOx_SBvfycELvVLU84bJvgBrCiyYhBiUMeZJLqhOmylsvViH2PA_TWzxZN6rjm87FAk6FJY3tiPc6Rc5l46Ixwy55LzTWUfLgVpE8hM/s1600/Blue+Tatoo+by+Marci+McDonald.jpg" height="640" width="481" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Blue Tatoo (by Marci McDonald)</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<b><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Hornication</span></span></b><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Detroit, Michigan</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>Pizzeria Italia</i> stood like a shining beacon among the many stores that lined the busy street.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">People had been known to cross two states just to sample the food and the ambience of the quaint little eatery.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">It was a little piece of Italy in Detroit.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Alfredo Angelo was a teenager when he began assisting his father at the bistro and he was thirty when he inherited it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">By then he had married Carlotta Folino and they had settled into a modest but elegant house a block away from the bistro.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">It was the 50's and <i>Pizzeria Italia</i> would soon became one of the most popular eating houses in Detroit.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">A classic, swanky bistro that served excellent food round the clock with quintessential Italian style.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Alfredo and Carlotta Angelo lived long enough to taste the fruits of their labours and long enough to welcome a son into the world.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Luigi (nicknamed "Lucky") was the child they thought they would never have.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">And Alfredo had taken the boy into the bistro as soon as he could walk.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Lucky watched and learned.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">He spent his weekends spinning pizzas and creating authentic Italian meals under the tutelage of his father and the watchful eye of his mother.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">He quickly showed great promise.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Lucky Angelo may not have been the smartest kid on the block but he had it where it counted.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">He was generous and had a big heart and time would tell that he had a big <i>something</i> else too ...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Lucky Angelo was short and stocky with a cherubic face, curly black hair and fiery brown eyes.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">He had an easy charm and a passionate Latin temperament and stepped naturally into his father's shoes.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Lucky Angelo had a common touch and a flair for Italian cuisine.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Alfredo and Carlotta confidently predicted that he would soon be wearing the <i>Pizzeria Italia</i> crown.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Nobody had ever prepared Fettuccine con Carciofi<i> </i>with fresh artichokes or created intricate pizza's the way he had.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Lucky Angelo was forever experimenting with new ingredients and introducing new dishes to the menu.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">He had plans for the <i>Pizzeria Italia.</i>and his father was impressed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Soon new customers were streaming in.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Lucky Angelo was indeed lucky.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">He was now eighteen and had filled out into a well built young man.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">But he had a secret that he could no longer conceal.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Lucky had been nursing it since puberty.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">And he was baffled by how it had suddenly grown almost over night.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">As young Lucky Angelo stared at his reflection in the mirror - standing sideways or full frontal - it was plain to see and unmistakable.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">He couldn't hide it any longer.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Lucky Angelo had been blessed with an enormous penis.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">It was so big that even his mother had expressed astonishment.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">"Santa Maria!" Carlotta Angelo would cry, before crossing herself.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">His father was proud of his son's huge member but poor Lucky was ashamed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">At fifteen, Lucky had shown his penis to a curious girl behind the bistro one day and much to his consternation, she ran screaming away.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Football practice was hell.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoi-J9FZREOM6Yx7D2M_9MIBbKbeIa8BZt9rEY2GHGjlaohk6MYGGuusIOvktD0nyi3Haxox4j9k5mHMF2aGXiJ4coFpZkxQKSHz_Nv7qPGl2ZQuNFi1ztp73WcNzswMqc0hSEjfv0x5s/s1600/Jane+Freeman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoi-J9FZREOM6Yx7D2M_9MIBbKbeIa8BZt9rEY2GHGjlaohk6MYGGuusIOvktD0nyi3Haxox4j9k5mHMF2aGXiJ4coFpZkxQKSHz_Nv7qPGl2ZQuNFi1ztp73WcNzswMqc0hSEjfv0x5s/s1600/Jane+Freeman.jpg" height="640" width="434" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Marci McDonald ‘Kym’s Lilies</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">The other boys had seen a naked Lucky Angelo in the shower cubicle or changing rooms and they either admired or feared him.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">He was mercilessly teased about his appendage in the school yard - the Italian-American kids were the worst - and he soon got into brawls.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Lucky started coming home with a black eye or split lip and he always lied about his injuries.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">He dropped out of school as soon as he could and made <i>Pizzeria Italia</i> his future.</span><br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Lucky Angelo may not have have been blessed with brains but he had an engaging personality, good looks and talent in the kitchen.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">And he evidently had a burgeoning talent somewhere else too ...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">The Angelos' were observant Catholics and often attended church on Sunday's.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">So Lucky tentatively expressed his bewilderment to Father Antonio at confession one afternoon.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">He confessed that his big appendage was becoming a problem.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">The priest was disconcerted but agreed to take a look.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">"Help me, father!" Lucky cried as he pulled down his pants.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Father Antonio's hand flew to his mouth.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">"It appears that God has blessed you with a special gift!" The priest gulped "And we should always be grateful for his ... <i>bestowing</i>!"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">"Am I <i>cursed</i>?" Lucky Angelo wailed as he looked down at his huge member.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">"Good Lord, no!" Father Antonio exclaimed "Some men would <i>kill</i> for one that big!"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">And so Lucky Angelo swallowed his doubts and focused on making <i>Pizzeria Italia</i> great.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">It was the early 70's and the Carpenters were riding high in the charts, polyester was the material of choice and platforms shoes were in.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Alfredo and Carlotta Angelo were taking more of a back seat now and Lucky had taken over the reins of the bistro.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">There was a fresh energy in the bistro and it had attracted a whole new surge of diners.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">And it wasn't long before Lucky Angelo had acquired his own army of admirers.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Girls had always frequented the <i>Pizzeria Italia </i>but Lucky had never really been interested in them.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">He thought girls were annoying and he didn't pay much attention to them.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">But now when they came, Lucky noticed how they gazed at him over their milkshakes.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">How they giggled and whispered among themselves every time he passed them or when he took their orders.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Lucky had never really been aware of it before, but now it was hard to ignore.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">They were looking at him as if they wanted to <i>eat</i> him like one of his celebrated meals.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">And Lucky Angelo was beginning to experience some new sensations in his groin.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">It wasn't long before his head was turned.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">He was noticing breasts bouncing in tight cotton tops and smooth asses in tight jeans.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">And he was intrigued by the way girls flirted and didn't say what they really meant.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">One of the girls was very persistent and she was at the bistro almost every Saturday afternoon with her friend.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">She was a pretty redhead named Abigail Jordan. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">And she was sweet sixteen.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">"What would you like today?" Lucky asked her with a smile.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Abigail blushed violently.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">"Banana milkshake, please!"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">"Extra cream?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">"Oh yes ..." the girl cried with wide open eyes "extra cream .."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>"Yes please"</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Her eyes had quickly brushed across the bulge between his muscled legs .</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Something big lurked inside those jeans.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Abigail and her friend giggled.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Lucky Angelo's shirt was unbuttoned down to the navel and the girls could see his muscular, hairy chest.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">He was <i>all</i> man.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">And Abigail Jordan was convinced she was going to marry the sexy Italian-American.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">So she made him promise to make an honest woman out of her.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">"I promise on my grandmother's grave that I will see you right!" Lucky Angelo swore on their first night together.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Abigail Jordan screamed out loud the first time she saw the size of his enormous member.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">"It's a <i>monster</i>!" She exclaimed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Abigail was a virgin and had never seen a penis before but she was sure that the one she was looking at was not meant to be that <i>big</i>.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">"Father Antonio says it's a gift from God!" Lucky Angelo informed her proudly.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Abigail thought he was going to split her in two.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">He was very energetic.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">The bed shook so violently that Abigail Jordan was sure it was going to break and that Mr and Mrs Angelo could hear what was going on.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Lucky had had to place his hand over Abigail's mouth because she was making so much noise.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">He took to sex like he took to creating a new menu - with passion and gusto.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Abigail Jordan was so sore that she could hardly walk for several days after.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">She no longer wanted the swarthy young man to make an honest woman of her.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Lucky Angelo never saw Abigail again.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">He later discovered that the Jordan's had moved to Canada and taken their daughter with them.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">From then on, Lucky Angelo took to enthusiastic coupling.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">He had a big appetite and a very high sex drive.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Lucky made love as if he was preparing a prize meal.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">He took his time and made sure he was completely satisfied with the end result.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Lucky Angelo had quickly come to the conclusion that his "gift" should be shared with the world.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">And word soon got round that he was an Italian stallion.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Hung like a horse.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">And Lucky Angelo loved it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Within ten years he had turned the fortunes of <i>Pizzeria Italia</i> right round and as 1980 loomed, he was coming to terms with the fact that he was now a wealthy young man.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Lucky Angelo was indeed lucky.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Both his parents had passed by then and Lucky was employing a small team.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">He lived in a fine house in a good neighbourhood and was counted as a good Italian boy.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">But he had been unlucky in love.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Lucky Angelo's partners were brief encounters and most women baulked at the size of his member so that he found sexual fulfilment with prostitutes who had no problem with his huge penis.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">But the gnawing loneliness continued and he often went home to a big, empty house.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">In 1986, Lucky Angelo met Dana Devaney at <i>Pizzeria Italia</i>.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">He was intrigued by the chic woman and her distinguished looking party.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">And he quickly found out that she was heiress to the famous<i> Devaney Oil Conglomerate</i>.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Dana Devaney was tall and attractive with sparkling blue eyes and a sharp wit.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">The Texas born beauty found the swarthy Italian-American man irresistible.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Lucky Angelo wasn't like the Southern men she was used to; he was charming and self-effacing and she liked that. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Love quickly blossomed between them.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">In the early days of their relationship, they conducted their affair in a Detroit hotel.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">And Dana Devaney was completely stunned at the size of his member.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">"You're not going to stick<i> that</i> in me, are you?" She cried.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Lucky Angelo was standing naked before her, while she lay expectantly on the big hotel bed in a silk <i>Valentino</i> nightdress.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Devaney had never seen such an enormous penis before.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">"You bet your sweet little ass I am!" Lucky Angelo replied with a grin.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">The first time they made it in bed, Dana Devaney nearly screamed the hotel down.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Lucky Angelo was insatiable in bed and so was she.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Dana Devaney was an <i>experienced</i> women but he was too much - even for her.</span><br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">The couple were married in Hawaii in 1987 and at a lavish reception they danced to <i>Make It With You</i> by Bread.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Presently they settled in Detroit in an even bigger house than Lucky had known.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">The house had sixty-five rooms, which included a games room, a gym and an indoor heated pool.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Lucky Angelo was lucky again.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Or so it seemed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Expensive holidays to far flung places and extravagant parties with the jet-set quickly followed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Lucky Angelo was mixing with the <i>hoi polloi</i> but soon felt out of place.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">He didn't belong in that world.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">People ignored him and spoke to Dana.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1ywlq-LqK5nJdjPaAWdQNUxzyFRYVN4hXuN6lZ-HaTHuj-cKSa9x_62Gzy5wDYa8O_cTzXlWnrgUHlIWOSjQxJC1CmdB_gl_qU8H7KIJHDzqVEFtNlGphkZdKrqWus2ZtEIPdPxcNWA0/s1600/beautiful-sensual-paintings-by-marci-mcdonald-02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1ywlq-LqK5nJdjPaAWdQNUxzyFRYVN4hXuN6lZ-HaTHuj-cKSa9x_62Gzy5wDYa8O_cTzXlWnrgUHlIWOSjQxJC1CmdB_gl_qU8H7KIJHDzqVEFtNlGphkZdKrqWus2ZtEIPdPxcNWA0/s1600/beautiful-sensual-paintings-by-marci-mcdonald-02.jpg" height="640" width="468" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Marci McDonald </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Those who did acknowledge him, regarded him as a "rough diamond".</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">He was little more than Dana's "down town man".</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Lucky and Dana were arguing most days now.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Dana was eager to move out of Detroit but Lucky was resistant.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>Pizzeria Italia</i> was being neglected because Dana insisted Lucky did not need to work anymore.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">He had lost his purpose and he drank to numb his feelings.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>Pizzeria Italia</i> was languishing in the doldrums; out of step and out of date.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Standards at the bistro had fallen dramatically in his absence and even the famous menu was looking boring.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Times had changed but <i>Pizzeria Italia</i> had not.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">The bistro's appeal had evaporated along with its diners.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Lucky's disgruntled staff were bickering among themselves and many of them handed in their notice and got work a block away at <i>Gino's Bistro</i>.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>Gino's Bistro</i> was doing a roaring trade.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>Pizzeria Italia</i> was no longer the best eatery in town.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">It was now a tired little eatery that had seen better days.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Lucky Angelo had started to drink and as the 80's drew to a close, he realised he was in serious trouble.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">He no longer made love to his wife.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">She couldn't take it any more.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Dana Angelo complained that it was like being lanced by a javelin.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">The novelty of sex with a hung man had worn off.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Lucky Angelo may have had a big cock, but he was a lousy husband.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">They no longer made it in bed, or anywhere else.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Dana Angelo delivered her husband an ultimatum.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">They could move to New York and begin a new life there or they could stay in Detroit and watch their marriage fall apart.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Lucky was non-committal.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Dana Angelo started seeing Rex Davidson, one of her business partners.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Then she filed for divorce.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">The house was sold and Lucky moved into a smaller property.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Things took a grim turn for the worst.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Lucky's drinking habit was spiralling out of control and <i>Pizzeria Italia</i> was facing closure.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">It was the early 90's and he had finally hit rock bottom.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">He couldn't keep a woman and only prostitutes were willing to momentarily satisfy his needs.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Standing outside the boarded up bistro Lucky Angelo wondered if his parents could see him now.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">It was Friday night.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Lucky pulled up outside the club.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>Kootchy's</i> flashed brightly above the doors.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Lucky Angelo flicked his cigarette away as he entered the smoky club.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">He was dressed in a silver <i>Moschino</i> suit and he had made an effort but he was in no mood to entertain the ladies so he got a whiskey and soda and found a seat in a quiet corner of the club.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Tonight it appeared to be full of expectant singletons and weary business men looking for fun or escapism.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Lucky could just make out the figure of a woman on the stage and a small band beside her through all the dry ice and cigarette smoke.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">He had forgotten - tonight was performance night.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Lucky Angelo was poised to down his drink and make a quick exist, when the woodiest voice he had ever heard began to fill the foetid air of the club.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">A low murmur had arisen among the throng.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">And as Lucky squinted into the clouds of smoke he quickly realised that the reaction wasn't just down to the singer's oral skills.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Lucky Angelo was unable to suppress the huge grin that had spread across his swarthy face.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Standing on the stage was the most well endowed female he had ever seen.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">She was wearing a skimpy black <i>Dior</i> dress with a plunging neckline and her enormous breasts were threatening to make an appearance.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">They were the most gigantic pair of breasts Lucky Angelo had ever seen and he suddenly had to look away for fear he would be struck blind.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">The mysterious woman was the sexiest creature he had ever seen.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">All eyes were fixed firmly upon her as she swayed seductively to the beat.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">The woman was tall and striking with exploding black hair, bright hazel eyes and warm olive skin.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">As she finished her rendition of <i>Feel like Makin' Love</i> by Roberta Flack, the woman seemed to look right into Lucky Angelo's soul.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Her big pouting red lips were made for mischief.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Men were falling over themselves to buy the mysterious creature a drink.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">But as Lucky sidled nonchalantly over to her, she broke out into a broad grin.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">She was even more beautiful close up.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">"Not seen you here before" she said in a husky unmistakably accented voice.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">A shiver ran down Lucky Angelo's spine as she held him with her eyes.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">He quickly surmised that she was Latino.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">"My first time" Lucky answered.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">"Let's dance!" She cried.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">It was more of a command and Lucky Angelo obeyed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">"I get a fair idea of what someone is really like from the way they dance!" She added knowingly.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">And that was the <i>sexiest </i>thing Lucky Angelo had ever heard. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">So the couple danced to <i>Sex Machine</i> by James Brown as everyone seemed to disappear from the dance floor.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">When the song had ended, the woman took Lucky by the hand and led him to a secluded table.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">"My name is Foxy" she informed him "Foxy Zavala. My real name is Fortuna but I prefer Foxy!"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Lucky Angelo was momentarily mesmerised by the beguiling woman.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">"Cat got your tongue?" She smiled.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">"Lucky!" He finally answered "My name is Lucky Angelo!"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">"Would you believe that? Fortunata, Lucky - same name!"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">"Yeah ... meant to be"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">"Thank you"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">"For what?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">"For not staring at my boobs. Guys are usually too busy staring at my tits to pay attention to my words!"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">"They must be crazy!" Lucky Angelo assured her.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjafaI3Qzfr28WtboITT2sx4anVay5aQ5Bm6wgh2ZYyFXgv5pNrfDyZ7v1TPIVS_OLkL-z3OJ15Z4RyziwZkFuqqgkAS2VBs0yd34HFWDgq86vz1LJGefW6VAWEFm5vV5xwHVkGVWmUCgE/s1600/marci_mcdonald_22.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjafaI3Qzfr28WtboITT2sx4anVay5aQ5Bm6wgh2ZYyFXgv5pNrfDyZ7v1TPIVS_OLkL-z3OJ15Z4RyziwZkFuqqgkAS2VBs0yd34HFWDgq86vz1LJGefW6VAWEFm5vV5xwHVkGVWmUCgE/s1600/marci_mcdonald_22.jpg" height="640" width="436" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Marci McDonald </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">"Ask me!"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">"Ask you what?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">"Ask me if they're real!"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">"Okay ... are they real?" Lucky asked her obediently.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">"You bet your ass they are!" Foxy Zavala smiled.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">He was counting his own lucky stars as he gazed into the sparkling eyes of the delectable creature before him.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">"I'm Puerto Rican" Foxy informed him "I like to sing and I get by"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">"I'd like to get to know you better"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">"Likewise"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Within three weeks Foxy Zavala had moved into Lucky Angelo's modest house.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">She wasn't fazed by the size of his huge member their first night together.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Foxy cocked an eyebrow as Lucky stood naked before her.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">"Chicks usually run screaming into the hills at this point!" Lucky Angelo informed her.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">He was waiting for a scream or a punchline or the hasty sound of his lady friend quickly dressing and hurriedly exiting the house.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Instead she threw back her head and laughed out loud.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Finally she spoke.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">"With my tits and your cock, we make a great team!" Foxy Zavala declared.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">Epilogue</span></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Lucky married Foxy two weeks after his divorce came through.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">He decided to turn his fortunes around and checked into rehab.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Then he got a loan and breathed new life into <i>Pizzeria Italia</i>, turning it into a swanky bar called <i>Fortunato </i>with an Italian twist and live performances every Friday.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">It soon became the place to be and business was booming.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>Fortunato</i> was the hippest joint in Detroit.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Lucky Angelo swore both his parents were smiling down upon him.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">And he and Foxy made love so passionately that they broke the bed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwt3ikObY7CTCWQ38AN8TU1feW_9qN8ET8BBAJAzrQFENlwN6vd04OW9iPijYi0af2s4OXWEKMKmFKbC3EHS3npwxM-wtwDPUttFEfscI-XiYYm6f2ftDvDNt1EfAYyLzMHNrUF6SL5Vc/s1600/Foxlilies.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwt3ikObY7CTCWQ38AN8TU1feW_9qN8ET8BBAJAzrQFENlwN6vd04OW9iPijYi0af2s4OXWEKMKmFKbC3EHS3npwxM-wtwDPUttFEfscI-XiYYm6f2ftDvDNt1EfAYyLzMHNrUF6SL5Vc/s1600/Foxlilies.jpg" height="640" width="470" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Foxlilies (by Marci McDonald)</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</span><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="360" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/U4U19zwFENs" width="480"></iframe>Alex Karashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05398068721281907129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7825899785840631460.post-57665560700319946462014-10-29T07:33:00.001-07:002014-10-30T06:32:28.162-07:00It's Time To Speak Of Unspoken Things <h3>
<b style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Secret Ceremony</span></b></h3>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><b style="font-size: x-large;">Leonora</b><span style="font-size: large;">: Hush little baby, cry no more. Father's gone fishing, mother's a whore. Back in the morning, to guard your life, with two short prayers, and a carving knife.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><b style="color: #333333; line-height: 18.2000007629395px; text-align: center;">Leonora: </b><span style="background-color: #fcfae7; color: #333333; line-height: 18.2000007629395px; text-align: center;">I had a daughter once, a very unusual child.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><b>Albert:</b> What happened to her?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><b>Leonora</b>: She vanished.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><span class="fine">(</span><span class="fine" style="font-style: italic;">snaps her fingers)</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><span class="fine" style="color: #333333; line-height: 18.2000007629395px;"><b>Leonora</b>: </span><span style="color: #333333;"><span style="line-height: 18.2000007629395px;">There were two mice fell in a bucket of milk, one yelled for help and drowned, the other kept pedalling around and around until, in the morning, he found himself on top of butter.</span></span></span></div>
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<span class="fine" style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-style: normal; line-height: 18.2000007629395px;"><b>Cenci</b>: My virginity is the only thing I possess.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><b>Leonora</b>: Dear God, by whose mercy...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><b>Cenci</b>: Dear God, by whose mercy...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><b>Leonora</b>: ... I am shielded for a few hours...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><b>Cenci</b> ... I am shielded for a few hours...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><b>Leonora</b> ... let no-one snatch me from this heaven.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><b>Cenci</b> ... let no-one snatch me from this heaven.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #fcfae7; color: #333333; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; line-height: 18.2000007629395px; text-align: start;"><b>Albert</b> : Is your goddamn mother at home? I'm not going to eat you, you silly bitch.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: #fcfae7; color: #333333; line-height: 18.2000007629395px; text-align: start;"><b>Cenci</b>: </span><span style="background-color: #fcfae7; color: #333333; line-height: 18.2000007629395px;">We can't have you walking about looking like a whore.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #fcfae7; color: #333333; line-height: 18.2000007629395px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><b>Albert </b>: If you don't let her go, she'll get smaller and smaller.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: #fcfae7; color: #333333; line-height: 18.2000007629395px;"><b>Cenci</b> (</span><span class="fine" style="background-color: #fcfae7; color: #333333; font-style: italic; line-height: 18.2000007629395px;">song)</span><span style="background-color: #fcfae7; color: #333333; line-height: 18.2000007629395px;"> Oh that I were where I would be, / There would I be where I am not; / But where I am there I must be, / And where I would be I can not.</span></span><br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="360" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/5zDgR_Uahoo" width="480"></iframe>Alex Karashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05398068721281907129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7825899785840631460.post-3260821384166046542014-10-07T13:50:00.000-07:002014-10-28T13:30:14.859-07:00Those That Go Down To Silence<br />
The dead praise not the LORD, neither any that go<br />
down into silence<br />
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~ <b>Psalm</b> 115 : 17 (King James)<br />
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It's sometimes just like sleeping<br />
Curling up inside my private tortures<br />
I nestle into pain<br />
Hug suffering<br />
Caress every ache<br />
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~ <b>Play Dead </b>by Björk and David Arnold<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJpWVGxEG4zIuAVNi2J8ZPPuuNlqTL7pPeEkeNfiEheIm1kkMCf5H7WRDNT3mcLkzpKnCnQG72MtRp1GpXUBnynB6X3wo35ulnAojvxema4AFiA4oAvq9BaR6k9QC5AoQPvOr8JHPmgNY/s1600/Nightmares+by+karakuji.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJpWVGxEG4zIuAVNi2J8ZPPuuNlqTL7pPeEkeNfiEheIm1kkMCf5H7WRDNT3mcLkzpKnCnQG72MtRp1GpXUBnynB6X3wo35ulnAojvxema4AFiA4oAvq9BaR6k9QC5AoQPvOr8JHPmgNY/s1600/Nightmares+by+karakuji.jpg" height="640" width="474" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nightmares (by karakuji deviantart.com)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<h3>
<span style="font-size: large;">Fool You</span></h3>
<br />
Wembley, North West London<br />
<br />
The woman was staring intensely into space.<br />
<br />
So far she had barely spoken since they had taken her into custody several hours before.<br />
<br />
And even her solicitor had been unable to communicate with her. <br />
<br />
"You're not making this easy for yourself" The severe female officer informed her sharply "Why don't you start at the beginning?" <br />
<br />
"We can wait!" The rotund male officer added as he clicked the tape recorder on.<br />
<br />
The solicitor shrugged wearily.<br />
<br />
It was a game of cat and mouse. <br />
<br />
And Eliot Solomon had a wife and two young children to go home to. <br />
<br />
This could go on all night.<br />
<br />
Finally the woman in custody acknowledged them.<br />
<br />
There was a faraway look in her glazed blue eyes. <br />
<br />
And a half smile upon her face.<br />
<br />
"It's amazing what a woman will do for a man" Alice Mandrake informed them. <br />
<br />
<b>Two Months Earlier</b><br />
<br />
It was on a dank and dingy late autumn afternoon that Alice Mandrake came to a startling realization.<br />
<br />
She wasn't actually in love with Sacha Ryder.<br />
<br />
She only wanted his<i> body.</i><br />
<br />
Now as Mandrake settled back at her desk she began to engage in her favourite pastime. <br />
<br />
She pondered all the reasons why Sacha Ryder was so delectable.<br />
<br />
"Let me count the ways ..." Alice Mandrake sighed as she sucked the juice out of a peach.<br />
<br />
The object of her desire was only a few feet away at another desk, and the young woman was indulging in a little heart game.<br />
<br />
Sacha Ryder was tall and swarthy with a gym toned body.<br />
<br />
He was handsome with melting brown eyes, a shaved head and tidy goatee.<br />
<br />
And he always moved on a wave of <i>Le Male</i> by Jean Paul Gautier.<br />
<br />
Ryder had only been at the offices at Brent Council for four weeks but already he had made quite an impression on the management and his co-workers alike.<br />
<br />
Particularly Alice Mandrake.<br />
<br />
She was musing on how the sexy Sacha Ryder moved like a panther. <br />
<br />
He made the quotidian atrociousness of working for Brent Council more bearable.<br />
<br />
But much to Alice Mandrake's annoyance and consternation, she wasn't the only one who had noticed Sacha Ryder's charms.<br />
<br />
Fiona Dixon had also taken a fancy to the newest recruit at the office and she made no secret of it.<br />
<br />
Her desk was directly behind Alice Mandrake's and just lately she had become something of an affliction to the young woman. <br />
<br />
Fiona Dixon frequently stared with ill-concealed lust at Sacha Ryder every time he passed by her desk. <br />
<br />
"He is <i>delicious</i>!" She announced one day in the office staff room. <br />
<br />
The two women either side of her giggled as they nibbled on their sandwiches.<br />
<br />
Alice Mandrake was sitting opposite the three women and attempting to hide her disgust.<br />
<br />
She almost stabbed her tuna salad with a fork. <br />
<br />
"We noticed!" Karen Davies cried.<br />
<br />
"Where did he say he was from?" Lorna Rush piped up.<br />
<br />
"His father is from Bora Bora and his mother is from Manchester!" Alice Mandrake informed them quickly.<br />
<br />
Rush and Davies looked at her blankly.<br />
<br />
Suddenly Sally Mandrake felt exposed.<br />
<br />
Fiona Dixon laughed.<br />
<br />
There was an unmistakable knowing look in her bright green eyes.<br />
<br />
And Sally Mandrake hated her for it.<br />
<br />
"<i>Someone</i> has the hots for him!" Fiona Dixon snorted facetiously. <br />
<br />
The two women on either side of her giggled.<br />
<br />
"I think Sacha has a<i> fan</i>!" Karen Davies added.<br />
<br />
Alice Mandrake silently seethed as she stared back at the three women.<br />
<br />
Infantile low-life.<br />
<br />
As far as she was concerned, Sacha Ryder was hers.<br />
<br />
She had noticed him first and she was determined to have him.<br />
<br />
Alice Mandrake watched as the three women rose abruptly and left the staff room, exchanging knowing glances.<br />
<br />
"The bitches of Eastwick!" Mandrake sneered.<br />
<br />
Although her vitriol was aimed solely at Fiona Dixon.<br />
<br />
"You okay?"<br />
<br />
Alice turned to see dependable Tony Ball.<br />
<br />
Tony Ball was tall and gangly with ginger hair and pale blue eyes.<br />
<br />
He had already been promoted three times in the last eighteen months.<br />
<br />
"It's just that Karen and Lorna said you were acting strangely" Ball added.<br />
<br />
"No, I'm quite fine" Alice Mandrake answered him quickly.<br />
<br />
There was a look of concern in Tony Ball's eyes.<br />
<br />
She hated him.<br />
<br />
"Well, if you ever need to talk you know where I am!"<br />
<br />
Mandrake watched as the lanky man departed the staff room.<br />
<br />
"Smug bastard!" She snarled.<br />
<br />
Then she dug her plastic fork into her salad with such force that it broke.<br />
<br />
That night, alone in her modest flat in Kilburn, Alice Mandrake luxuriated in a soapy bath.<br />
<br />
The relaxing ambience was completed with the aroma of scented candles, a glass of <i>Vina Maipo Vitral</i> <i>Chardonnay</i> and a little Bach.<br />
<br />
All Alice Mandrake needed now was a naked and buff Sacha Ryder to join her in the bath.<br />
<br />
Alice Mandrake sighed.<br />
<br />
The thought of Sacha Ryder sent ripples of longing throughout her body.<br />
<br />
Suddenly her reverie was forcibly interrupted by a vision of Fiona Dixon.<br />
<br />
She was blocking out the light as she laughed mockingly at Mandrake.<br />
<br />
"Bitch!" Alice Mandrake screamed, tossing her glass against the bathroom wall.<br />
<br />
She watched it explode into inestimable shards.<br />
<br />
Alice Mandrake's face had darkened and her mind had gone into overdrive.<br />
<br />
Fiona Dixon was like a black widow spider crawling all over brain.<br />
<br />
She was a pestiferous poacher who was out to steal her man. <br />
<br />
And Alice Mandrake was shaking with rage.<br />
<br />
The sexiest man she had come across in a long while had just entered her life.<br />
<br />
But his very presence was being threatened by a feline predictor.<br />
<br />
Fiona Dixon.<br />
<br />
A well manicured vampire with a taste for male blood.<br />
<br />
A tasteless little bimbo with air between her ears. <br />
<br />
Alice Mandrake was petite and elfin with blonde hair and a squeaky voice.<br />
<br />
She was comely with wide blue eyes and a ready smile.<br />
<br />
There was something childlike about Alice Mandrake and she was the sort of person that people wanted to look after.<br />
<br />
Mandrake had been working at Brent Council for five years and was regarded by most as being very professional but rather quaint.<br />
<br />
She was friendly and polite but nobody knew much about her because she played her cards close to her chest.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR_4sk8bV10gOg9_iJFcgl_m313seEDT1FVewhGtOiCwFPwS6Awq1GxdBMUsEeTP55bGn17Le7keHIlcZxQV7G1jz1bGpwifP3fqqz18jxpyy5-DYlY83SH_AHo054po2dtc_peJcwXCc/s1600/Dark+Headquarters+by+SLimspaceman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR_4sk8bV10gOg9_iJFcgl_m313seEDT1FVewhGtOiCwFPwS6Awq1GxdBMUsEeTP55bGn17Le7keHIlcZxQV7G1jz1bGpwifP3fqqz18jxpyy5-DYlY83SH_AHo054po2dtc_peJcwXCc/s1600/Dark+Headquarters+by+SLimspaceman.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dark Headquarters (by SLimspaceman deviantart.com)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Nobody would ever have imagined that she had hidden fires.<br />
<br />
Alice Mandrake was full of surprises.<br />
<br />
Her last relationship had ended three years before.<br />
<br />
Douglas Peters, a freelance journalist from New Zealand, had gone missing shortly after the break-up of his relationship with Alice Mandrake.<br />
<br />
The mystery had remained unsolved. <br />
<br />
But of this, nobody at Brent Council was aware.<br />
<br />
Conversely, Fiona Dixon was an outspoken brunette.<br />
<br />
She was tall and striking with vivid green eyes and a confidant demeanor.<br />
<br />
Dixon dressed to kill in power suits and high heels and nothing was sacred with her.<br />
<br />
And apparently she was a hit with the men at Brent Council.<br />
<br />
Fiona Dixon was everything that Alice Mandrake was not.<br />
<br />
She was sharp and opinionated.<br />
<br />
And she had an eye for success.<br />
<br />
But she had fatally underestimated mousy little Alice Mandrake.<br />
<br />
Mandrake had taken an instant dislike to Fiona Dixon from the moment she arrived at the office two years before.<br />
<br />
As far as she was concerned, Dixon had used her feminine wiles to ingratiate herself with all the people who mattered at Brent Council.<br />
<br />
And Mandrake secretly found it deplorable.<br />
<br />
The arrival of Sacha Ryder had just upped the ante.<br />
<br />
Now with Christmas two months away, the management at Brent Council had planned a two week excursion to the Yorkshire Dales and a stay at a plush hotel.<br />
<br />
They were eager to congratulate their employees for all their hard work, although few shared their sentiments and many were wondering what they were actually doing there.<br />
<br />
Tony Ball was busy making a list of all those who wanted to go on the trip.<br />
<br />
Now he was talking animatedly to Alice Mandrake about all the important sights of the Yorkshire Dales.<br />
<br />
"And the limestone cliffs are <i>really</i> impressive" Ball gushed.<br />
<br />
But Alice Mandrake was too busy staring at Sacha Ryder's crotch, as she sucked on the end of her pencil.<br />
<br />
He was wearing tight trousers and Mandrake had identified a pleasing bulge between his legs.<br />
<br />
"Mmm" She moaned.<br />
<br />
Alice had already offered to drive him home but he had declined, claiming that he was meeting a friend in town for drinks.<br />
<br />
She was crestfallen but undeterred.<br />
<br />
Sacha Ryder had flashed her a cheeky smile and there was a mischievous glint in his chocolate brown eyes.<br />
<br />
It was inevitable.<br />
<br />
One day he would be <i>hers</i>.<br />
<br />
Alice Mandrake followed the sexy man with her eyes until she suddenly noticed Fiona Dixon ogling him as well.<br />
<br />
Mandrake's face fell as Dixon grinned at her.<br />
<br />
"Just admiring the view!" She cooed with a knowing smirk.<br />
<br />
Alice Mandrake fought to contain her disgust. <br />
<br />
Tony Ball had stopped talking.<br />
<br />
"Alice?"<br />
<br />
"Oh sorry Tony ..."<br />
<br />
"Dreaming about our little excursion to The Dales?"<br />
<br />
Alice Mandrake looked blankly at him.<br />
<br />
She knew the Yorkshire Dales well; her father was a Yorkshire man and they often went to The Dales for holidays.<br />
<br />
Alice Mandrake managed a smile.<br />
<br />
"Is ... Sacha Ryder going on the trip?" She asked expectantly.<br />
<br />
Tony Ball's face fell.<br />
<br />
He was besotted with Alice Mandrake and much to his consternation, she did not reciprocate.<br />
<br />
"Apparently so"<br />
<br />
A bright grin had spread across Alice Mandrake impish face.<br />
<br />
"I'm going, too" Tony Ball added.<br />
<br />
But Mandrake was already distracted.<br />
<br />
Sacha Ryder had just bent over and she was getting a good look at his taut bottom.<br />
<br />
"Mmm!" She groaned.<br />
<br />
Nothing else mattered.<br />
<br />
Tony Ball slunk away defeated.<br />
<br />
The Yorkshire Dales is a collection of river valleys spanning the ceremonial counties of North Yorkshire and Cumbria.<br />
<br />
A soaringly beautiful landscape of grandeur and natural beauty.<br />
<br />
Alice Mandrake had suffered Tony Ball to drive her to the hotel in Harrogate but she was distracted for the duration of the journey.<br />
<br />
He had taken it as a sign that the tide was turning.<br />
<br />
But Alice Mandrake had other things on her mind.<br />
<br />
She was exhilarated and unsettled at the same time.<br />
<br />
Sacha Ryder would be staying in the same hotel as her.<br />
<br />
But so would Fiona Dixon.<br />
<br />
Alice closed her eyes and pretended to be asleep so Tony Ball would stop talking.<br />
<br />
"That's right, you go to sleep!" He cried "We'll be in Yorkshire within the hour!"<br />
<br />
But Mandrake was already silently plotting as they spent the remainder of the journey in silence.<br />
<br />
She was determined to mount a charm offensive.<br />
<br />
And Fiona Dixon was quite taken aback by the transformation.<br />
<br />
"I thought you were a boring cow!" Dixon announced after dinner that first night.<br />
<br />
She was standing on the steps of the hotel with Mandrake.<br />
<br />
"Appearances can be deceiving" Alice replied.<br />
<br />
Fiona Dixon took out a cigarette and lit up.<br />
<br />
"That will kill you" Mandrake informed her.<br />
<br />
"All the best things in life will" Dixon grinned.<br />
<br />
The two women fell silent for several long moments.<br />
<br />
Fiona Dixon eyed up Alice Mandrake as she took a long drag from her cigarette.<br />
<br />
She was dressed in a <i>Marks and Spencer</i> purple polo neck skater dress and her blonde hair was scraped severely back in a bun.<br />
<br />
Fiona Dixon wouldn't be seen dead in a get-up like that.<br />
<br />
Mandrake might be pretty but she couldn't dress for shit.<br />
<br />
Fiona Dixon was wearing a tight black <i>Betsy Jackson</i> dress and black leather kinky boots.<br />
<br />
Her face was carefully made-up and her long brown tresses tumbled over her shoulders.<br />
<br />
"Shame Sacha didn't join us for dinner!" Dixon declared.<br />
<br />
"Oh ... I really didn't notice ..."<br />
<br />
"You didn't notice the absence of the tastiest man in the office?"<br />
<br />
"Well no ... I mean I saw him briefly when we arrived but ..."<br />
<br />
"God, I<i> </i>hope he's waiting for <i>me</i>!"<br />
<br />
Alice Mandrake shifted uneasily where she stood.<br />
<br />
Her brashness was unnerving.<br />
<br />
Fiona Dixon grinned broadly.<br />
<br />
"Oh, I am <i>sorry</i> if I offended you!" She cried.<br />
<br />
But it was obvious that she didn't mean it.<br />
<br />
"No, it's quite okay!" Alice Mandrake answered quickly.<br />
<br />
Perhaps<i> too</i> quickly.<br />
<br />
"It's getting a little nippy out here" she added "I think I'll go inside!"<br />
<br />
Fiona Dixon watched as Alice Mandrake disappeared back into the hotel.<br />
<br />
"Frigid little virgin!" She snarled.<br />
<br />
Tony Ball had been hanging around in the hotel bar, waiting for Alice Mandrake.<br />
<br />
He was determined to make an impression on her.<br />
<br />
"Hi, Alice!" Ball cried enthusiastically.<br />
<br />
Mandrake smiled thinly at him.<br />
<br />
She'd been trying to avoid him all evening.<br />
<br />
"Just wondered if you'd like a drink?" He added.<br />
<br />
"Oh I am sorry, I have a <i>terrible</i> headache!"<br />
<br />
"Sorry ... maybe next time?"<br />
<br />
Alice Mandrake did not reply but walked straight past him.<br />
<br />
Three days into the trip and Alice Mandrake felt starved of the presence of Sacha Ryder.<br />
<br />
She barely saw him after breakfast as he spent most of his time in his room.<br />
<br />
But when Alice learnt that Ryder was fond of a midday swim in the hotel pool, she began to covertly observe him in his black <i>Speedos</i> from the sidelines.<br />
<br />
Mandrake waited until the lithe and toned form of Sacha Ryder emerged from the men's changing room and dived effortlessly into the pool.<br />
<br />
He glided through the virtually empty pool like a silver fish.<br />
<br />
After several laps of the pool Sacha Ryder rose out of the water like Adonis and disappeared into the men's changing room<br />
<br />
Alice Mandrake sighed with satisfaction at the remembrance of his taught chest and thighs.<br />
<br />
Now she could attend to her other business with renewed vigour.<br />
<br />
Fiona Dixon had been swept up on the tidal wave of Alice Mandrake's appreciation. <br />
<br />
At first she had been suspicious of her motivations.<br />
<br />
Alice Mandrake was the sort of mousy goody two shoes that she always disliked. <br />
<br />
Fiona Dixon was a part-time feminist but a full-time coquette. <br />
<br />
She liked men and they liked her.<br />
<br />
This was why she was such a threat to Alice Mandrake.<br />
<br />
But somehow she capitulated under Mandrake's friendly assault. <br />
<br />
Alice had determined to get her onside and disarm her that way.<br />
<br />
And even though she hated her, Fiona Dixon gradually lost her inhibitions.<br />
<br />
The bookish little mouse might be a source of entertainment.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyH9U8mN2kl7KmA0cnJdFroRnWU2VM7cALrAHS_gnKq2msJaH_WQnVxP4K1p20bqOb72cy6sMbYZH558T8pPEYjRlbhAYXIUQ_8zvX9ts6pb5mh1zWRysck1AHI-kAY7qoC8t9fpXjpog/s1600/Spurn+point+Yorkshire+by+BenWalker.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyH9U8mN2kl7KmA0cnJdFroRnWU2VM7cALrAHS_gnKq2msJaH_WQnVxP4K1p20bqOb72cy6sMbYZH558T8pPEYjRlbhAYXIUQ_8zvX9ts6pb5mh1zWRysck1AHI-kAY7qoC8t9fpXjpog/s1600/Spurn+point+Yorkshire+by+BenWalker.jpg" height="640" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Spurn point Yorkshire (by BenWalker deviantart.com)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
And Alice Mandrake was admitted into her circle and soon became a regular member of her little band of women who frequented all the local bars and pubs of Harrogate.<br />
<br />
Mandrake suffered the brash and brassy woman's raucous humour and salacious anecdotes as the women around her roared with laughter.<br />
<br />
But she also had to endure her ill-concealed lust for Sacha Ryder too.<br />
<br />
"I bet he's got some little tart stashed in his hotel room!" Fiona Dixon exclaimed.<br />
<br />
"You'll have to join the cue!" Karen Davies retorted.<br />
<br />
Alice Mandrake winced.<br />
<br />
The IQ level had evidently dropped since they arrived in Yorkshire. <br />
<br />
Now Alice Mandrake watched Fiona Dixon like a hawk over the rim of her glass.<br />
<br />
She wondered how long she could keep up the pretense ...<br />
<br />
"You wouldn't say no, would you?" Linda Brown asked Alice Mandrake. <br />
<br />
"Who would!" Mandrake replied quickly.<br />
<br />
Everyone laughed, and Alice managed to join in.<br />
<br />
But she secretly hated herself for doing it.<br />
<br />
And Fiona Dixon put on a good show of accepting her.<br />
<br />
Even though she made her flesh crawl. <br />
<br />
The evening progressed and the women became more and more cacophonous.<br />
<br />
Fiona Dixon was tossing back her head and laughing shrilly at the bawdy jokes.<br />
<br />
And Alice Mandrake was cursing her over and over again in her head.<br />
<br />
Later she cornered Dixon in the rest room of a chic bar.<br />
<br />
"I'm going on that trip to The Dales on Thursday!" Mandrake declared "Care to join us?"<br />
<br />
"Not my thing!" Fiona Dixon replied disinterestedly as she applied her scarlet Dior lipstick.<br />
<br />
"Used to go there as a kid!" Mandrake continued "I know it like the back of my hand!"<br />
<br />
"No, sorry!"<br />
<br />
"Well, there are some things I really need to get off my chest ... you know, <i>private</i> stuff!"<br />
<br />
Fiona Dixon paused.<br />
<br />
This was priceless.<br />
<br />
Perhaps a little excursion to The Dales might yield some interesting results.<br />
<br />
There was an intense look in Alice's eyes.<br />
<br />
"Oh, come on!" Mandrake urged.<br />
<br />
Fiona Dixon pondered on the offer for several moments.<br />
<br />
She hated Alice Mandrake but she also relished making a joke out of their little expedition to her friends later.<br />
<br />
Mandrake was such a soft target.<br />
<br />
"You're on!" Fiona Dixon informed her briskly.<br />
<br />
Alice Mandrake smiled appreciatively.<br />
<br />
Getting her alone might be the only way of ascertaining what her true intentions towards Sacha Ryder were.<br />
<br />
And because Fiona Dixon wasn't one to keep her mouth shut for long about anything, Mandrake surmised that the little expedition would reap rich rewards. <br />
<br />
So she was willing to endure the appalling woman to achieve this end.<br />
<br />
Before she considered a more <i>final</i> solution.<br />
<br />
"I'm not a <i>lesbian</i> so don't get any funny ideas!" Fiona Dixon added icily before sweeping out of the rest room. <br />
<br />
Alice Mandrake watched as she departed, leaving a wave of <i>Poison</i> in her wake.<br />
<br />
"Bitch!" She sneered.<br />
<br />
Thursday afternoon arrived all too quickly.<br />
<br />
It was a crisp morning and there was a ground frost.<br />
<br />
And there was no sign of Sacha Ryder.<br />
<br />
Fiona Dixon was already thirty minutes late.<br />
<br />
Eventually she appeared.<br />
<br />
She was dressed in a black <i>Prada</i> coat and silver <i>Jimmy Choo</i> heels - inappropriate attire for The Dales. <br />
<br />
Alice Mandrake silently seethed.<br />
<br />
Why did Fiona <i>always</i> have to be the centre of attention?<br />
<br />
Tony Ball had been assigned as group leader and he avidly regaled them with stories about the Yorkshire Dales for over an hour.<br />
<br />
They were all relieved when he finally suggested they splinter off into pairs to explore the stunning terrain.<br />
<br />
Ball was hoping to ask Mandrake to join him.<br />
<br />
He had been hoping to spend some time with Mandrake alone.<br />
<br />
But instead he watched with dismay as Alice Mandrake trudged across The Dales without him.<br />
<br />
His little flag had crumpled.<br />
<br />
Dixon listened to Mandrake as she prattled on about her holidays to the Yorkshire Dales.<br />
<br />
She was willing to endure a little discomfort to get what she wanted.<br />
<br />
Fiona Dixon relished the expectation that Alice Mandrake would soon yield some excruciating secrets which could be used against her later.<br />
<br />
She was game for a laugh and Mandrake was a soft target.<br />
<br />
She was about to make a fool of herself and Fiona Dixon was going along for the ride.<br />
<br />
Now Dixon eyed Alice Mandrake up and down.<br />
<br />
She was wearing a grey coat from <i>Top Shop</i> and a pair of brown leather boots.<br />
<br />
Suddenly Dixon resisted the temptation to laugh at her as she took another drag from her cigarette.<br />
<br />
This was surely going to be the highlight of the week.<br />
<br />
Now as Fiona Dixon followed Alice Mandrake, she waited on bated breath for a deluge of embarrassing details. <br />
<br />
But Mandrake was oddly not forthcoming.<br />
<br />
Instead they trudged purposefully across rugged terrain as Alice jabbered on about inconsequential things.<br />
<br />
Fiona Dixon struggled to keep up with her in her impossible silver <i>Jimmy Choo</i> heels.<br />
<br />
They appeared to be headed towards an isolated place up in the hills. <br />
<br />
And they seemed to be climbing ever higher until they were standing on a limestone cliff with a panoramic view of The Dales.<br />
<br />
Fiona Dixon's frustration had been mounting.<br />
<br />
Where was her self deprecating spiel?<br />
<br />
Her humiliating confessions?<br />
<br />
Alice Mandrake had suddenly gone very quiet. <br />
<br />
All they could hear was the sound of the bustling wind as it whipped around them.<br />
<br />
Several uneasy moments passed.<br />
<br />
And Fiona Dixon had lost her patience.<br />
<br />
"What?" She suddenly erupted "Did your father <i>abuse</i> you or something?"<br />
<br />
Alice Mandrake struggled to hide her contempt for Dixon as she shook her head.<br />
<br />
Fiona Dixon had finally given up on Mandrake spilling the beans of her own volition.<br />
<br />
So now she was determined to play her like a fish.<br />
<br />
She detested Alice Mandrake and there was no longer any need for pretence.<br />
<br />
And besides, she knew what her weakness was. <br />
<br />
"Let's talk about men!" Fiona Dixon declared.<br />
<br />
Alice Mandrake turned to look at her directly in the eyes.<br />
<br />
"Unless you want to talk about <i>women</i> ..." Dixon added facetiously.<br />
<br />
"No ... you're alright" Mandrake offered tentatively.<br />
<br />
"Let's talk about one man in particular!" Fiona Dixon continued sharply "Let's talk about <i>Sacha Ryder</i>!"<br />
<br />
There was a mischievous glint in Dixon's green eyes.<br />
<br />
It was very quiet on the cliff.<br />
<br />
"Isn't he absolutely <i>gorgeous</i>?" Fiona Dixon added brightly.<br />
<br />
"Well ... I can't say I've really noticed him!" Alice Mandrake responded.<br />
<br />
Fiona Dixon threw back her head and laughed shrilly. <br />
<br />
"You mean you haven't noticed the sexiest guy in the office?"<br />
<br />
Alice's blue eyes had turned into dangerous slits.<br />
<br />
"As I said, I can't say I've really noticed him" <br />
<br />
"Don't shit me!" Fiona Dixon cried "You've been pining for him ever since he arrived in the office and everyone knows it!"<br />
<br />
Alice Mandrake was fighting to control the rage that was welling up within her now.<br />
<br />
"Well, you're wasting time!" Dixon continued nastily "Because I've been screwing Sacha for weeks and we've been at it like rabbits!"<br />
<br />
She began to move menacingly towards Mandrake, as if she were a lioness about to pounce.<br />
<br />
"That's right!" Dixon added "He's been fucking me everywhere, including the store room and he keeps coming back for more!"<br />
<br />
The leggy brunette was towering over the slight blonde woman as they teetered perilously close to the edge of the cliff.<br />
<br />
"You nasty cow!" Alice Mandrake exclaimed "Why do you always have to ruin everything? Why do you always have to destroy it all!"<br />
<br />
Fiona Dixon threw back her head and laughed mockingly again.<br />
<br />
Mandrake detested her screechy laugh.<br />
<br />
"Why would a stud like Sacha be interested in a mouse like you?" Fiona Dixon retorted viciously "You frigid little virgin!"<br />
<br />
"Sacha Ryder is <i>mine</i>!" Alice Mandrake screamed "He belongs to me! Not an empty headed slut like you!"<br />
<br />
Alice's face had darkened and she was rounding in on Fiona Dixon.<br />
<br />
"I fucking hate you! You horrible bitch!"<br />
<br />
The little office mouse was suddenly overpowering the office lioness.<br />
<br />
"I've put up with you long enough!" Mandrake exploded<br />
<br />
Fiona Dixon was cowering beneath her like a frightened rabbit.<br />
<br />
They were teetering perilously close to the edge of the cliff now.<br />
<br />
And Alice Mandrake had experienced a sudden primal surge of energy.<br />
<br />
"Die you bitch!" She screamed "Die! Die! Die!" <br />
<br />
She behaved like a woman possessed.<br />
<br />
In a fit of fury Alice Mandrake brutally shoved Fiona Dixon over the cliff.<br />
<br />
The woman shrieked with terror as she tumbled to her death.<br />
<br />
Her last thought was that she was flying. <br />
<br />
"Alice! Are you okay" Tony Ball exclaimed as he suddenly appeared and ran to the scene, closely followed by several others.<br />
<br />
Alice Mandrake watched emotionless as her nemesis span into oblivion.<br />
<br />
Then she took out a gummy bear from her pocket and popped it in her mouth.<br />
<br />
She had quite forgotten herself.<br />
<br />
The splintered group had gradually begun to converge on the cliff.<br />
<br />
They were all stunned into silence.<br />
<br />
"We heard you shouting!" Tony Ball informed Alice Mandrake "What happened? Are you okay?"<br />
<br />
He suddenly noticed how fragile she looked.<br />
<br />
"She was suicidal!" Alice Mandrake replied through fits of tears "I begged her not to jump ... but she wouldn't listen!"<br />
<br />
"What are you talking about?" Tony Ball replied "Who?"<br />
<br />
Everyone looking at each other with bemusement.<br />
<br />
That was when Alice Mandrake became hysterical.<br />
<br />
It took two hours to calm her down.<br />
<br />
Over the ensuing days, Alice Mandrake proved herself to be a consummate actress.<br />
<br />
She was able to shed crocodile tears over the death of her rival and her performance was very convincing.<br />
<br />
The last few days of the Yorkshire trip passed in a haze of questioning and officious police officers but Alice Mandrake handled herself well.<br />
<br />
In fact, she was so good that the police quickly wrote her off as a suspect on account of her affecting testimony and evident distress at Fiona Dixon's untimely death.<br />
<br />
And for a few brief shining moments Alice Mandrake became the object of everyone's attention.<br />
<br />
Even Sacha Ryder expressed concern.<br />
<br />
He put a protective arm around her as they sat in the foyer.<br />
<br />
Alice Mandrake thought her heart would stop.<br />
<br />
The feel of his touch sent ripples of desire throughout her eager body.<br />
<br />
"I'm here for you" Sacha Ryder assured her earnestly "if you need anything, just ask"<br />
<br />
He was looking deeply into Mandrake's eyes.<br />
<br />
"Thank you" she replied in a quivering voice.<br />
<br />
"You're shivering!"<br />
<br />
"It's probably from ... the shock"<br />
<br />
"Honey, you know where I am!"<br />
<br />
And with that Sacha Ryder rose and exited the foyer.<br />
<br />
Alice Mandrake was unable to conceal the broad grin that had spread across her face.<br />
<br />
She felt triumphant.<br />
<br />
Killing Fiona Dxon had been worth it.<br />
<br />
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<div style="text-align: right;">
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And she could even forgive Sacha Ryder for sleeping with her.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaFRH4Fox4Gk4EkiXXP37lZNuhCjeLrjPcHfQgc6UKHbk3ltau2oayiN57cRTG523yMzZwkKLKu9u1vPc9Vs9MBNBSJFrNrunCvNUbSWQwcIbQXuQMXWElzqeETXvH1ZJBGClwOHjQz0U/s1600/Black+roses+by+jpfagerhe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaFRH4Fox4Gk4EkiXXP37lZNuhCjeLrjPcHfQgc6UKHbk3ltau2oayiN57cRTG523yMzZwkKLKu9u1vPc9Vs9MBNBSJFrNrunCvNUbSWQwcIbQXuQMXWElzqeETXvH1ZJBGClwOHjQz0U/s1600/Black+roses+by+jpfagerhe.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Black roses (by jpfagerhe deviantart.com)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Love conquers everything.<br />
<br />
That was it.<br />
<br />
Lust had turned into love.<br />
<br />
Now Alice Mandrake began to fantasise about marriage to Sacha Ryder and she fortified herself with this notion on the journey back to London with Tony Ball.<br />
<br />
Her plight had stirred Ball into fresh expressions of chivalry.<br />
<br />
He was now more insufferable than ever and Alice Mandrake had to summon new reserves of will power to resist him.<br />
<br />
Christmas was fast approaching.<br />
<br />
Although the office was still reeling from the shock of Fiona Dixon's death.<br />
<br />
Alice Mandrake had even attended her funeral.<br />
<br />
She only went because she wanted to make sure that Fiona Dixon really was six feet under.<br />
<br />
Nobody would ever have detected that Alice Mandrake was a murderess.<br />
<br />
She seemed to cry louder than everyone else.<br />
<br />
Alice Mandrake even wheeled Fiona Dixon's disabled mother around the cemetery in her wheelchair.<br />
<br />
"You're such a caring young lady!" June Dixon informed her "I'm so glad my Fi met you!"<br />
<br />
With Fiona Dixon in the ground - Alice Mandrake wanted Sacha Ryder more than ever.<br />
<br />
He filled her every waking moment.<br />
<br />
And she'd even visited a bridal wear shop in North London to look at wedding dresses.<br />
<br />
Sacha Ryder was hers.<br />
<br />
Even though she <i>still</i> knew very little about him and she was determined not to confide in anyone lest it shatter her fantasy.<br />
<br />
Very soon she would be riding Ryder and the earth would move for both of them.<br />
<br />
Alice had hardly noticed that Tony Ball was talking to her.<br />
<br />
He was still hovering around her.<br />
<br />
Why would she be interested in a lanky fool like him when she could have a ripped hunk like Sacha Ryder?<br />
<br />
Why would she want to have a cheeseburger when she could have a steak?<br />
<br />
"I'm sorry, I can't go out with you tonight!" Alice Mandrake interrupted him "I'm washing my hair. Anything else?"<br />
<br />
Tony Ball looked genuinely hurt.<br />
<br />
"Perhaps some other time then" he managed.<br />
<br />
Alice Mandrake smiled thinly and returned to her work.<br />
<br />
Tony Ball was so <i>transparent</i>.<br />
<br />
Eventually he slunk away.<br />
<br />
The highly anticipated Christmas was looming.<br />
<br />
Alice Mandrake had bought herself a little black <i>Betsy Jackson </i>dress and black <i>Fendi</i> heels.<br />
<br />
She was eagerly anticipating her transformation and the look of desire in Sacha Ryder's melting brown eyes when he beheld.<br />
<br />
The mousy bookworm had gone and been replaced by a tigress.<br />
<br />
Sacha Ryder was looking particularly delectable today and Alice Mandrake had barely been able to take her eyes off of him.<br />
<br />
She had been feverishly imagining him naked all day.<br />
<br />
Tonight Sacha Ryder would be hers.<br />
<br />
They were going to athletically consummate their lust in every orifice.<br />
<br />
It was going to be a night to remember.<br />
<br />
At five o'clock, Alice Mandrake switched off her computer.<br />
<br />
As she was about to get up, an unfamiliar young man suddenly entered the office.<br />
<br />
He was tall, blond, blue-eyed and good-looking.<br />
<br />
Alice Mandrake observed him with interest.<br />
<br />
The young man may have been attractive, but he was not a patch on Sacha Ryder.<br />
<br />
He appeared to make a bee-line for Ryder's desk and there seemed to be some familiarity between them.<br />
<br />
Then something happened that froze the blood in Alice Mandrake's veins.<br />
<br />
Something happened that sent an icy chill through her bones.<br />
<br />
The young man leaned in and kissed Sacha Ryder on the mouth.<br />
<br />
The object of Mandrake's desire responded fervidly and the two men continued be devour each other with hot, passionate kisses.<br />
<br />
Alice Mandrake stared at them in mortified horror.<br />
<br />
The bottom had just fallen out of her world.<br />
<br />
It was as if someone had just walked across her grave.<br />
<br />
And suddenly everything had become graphically grotesque.<br />
<br />
"Yes. he's gay!" Tony Ball informed her "I thought <i>everyone</i> in the office knew that!"<br />
<br />
Fiona Dixon had lied to her.<br />
<br />
The bitch had lied.<br />
<br />
And Alice Mandrake had deceived herself.<br />
<br />
But worst of all, Sacha Ryder had betrayed her.<br />
<br />
He had dug the knife deeper than Fiona Dixon.<br />
<br />
Sacha Ryder winked at Alice Mandrake and flashed her his lazy smile.<br />
<br />
Bile rose in her throat and she suddenly fought the urge to vomit.<br />
<br />
She stared in disbelief as the man of her dreams exited the office hand-in-hand with his male lover.<br />
<br />
Alice Mandrake's brain had flat lined.<br />
<br />
The world was a place called hate.<br />
<br />
"Oh and ..." Ball continued tentatively "I wondered if you'd like to go for that drink ... after the party!"<br />
<br />
Alice Mandrake slowly turned to face Tony Ball.<br />
<br />
It would have been impossible for him to quantify how much pathological hatred Alice Mandrake felt for him in that moment.<br />
<br />
"Fuck off and die!" She snarled malevolently at him.<br />
<br />
And this time Tony Ball knew she meant it.<br />
<br />
<b>The Present Day</b><br />
<br />
Alice Mandrake sat back in her chair.<br />
<br />
The two police officers looked at each other before clicking the tape recorder office.<br />
<br />
Eliot Solomon knew that all advice was now futile.<br />
<br />
"Looks can be deceiving!" Alice Mandrake informed them "They <i>never</i> saw me coming!"<br />
<br />
Her audience were hanging on her every word.<br />
<br />
"People have always underestimated me!" Mandrake went on "And I taught them a lesson!"<br />
<br />
"Was that the same with Sacha Ryder?" The spiky female officer pressed her.<br />
<br />
"I thought he was <i>different</i>!" Alice Mandrake declared "But he was just like all the others. A lying, cheating bastard and I purged myself of him!"<br />
<br />
There was a crazed look in Mandrake's eyes.<br />
<br />
The interview room had suddenly become very cold.<br />
<br />
And Alice Mandrake was grinning broadly now.<br />
<br />
<b>One Month Later</b><br />
<br />
"Personality disorder bought on by childhood trauma" Dr Bukoski informed the two officers as they observed Alice Mandrake from a secret glass window.<br />
<br />
She appeared to be having an animated conversation with herself.<br />
<br />
"I don't understand?" The astringent female officer replied.<br />
<br />
"Alice Mandrake was hopelessly in love with Sacha Ryder" Dr Bukoski explained "But because of the intense self loathing she felt for herself, she invented Fiona Dixon. She was a projection and the dark side of herself!"<br />
<br />
"So you mean its as if there are two sides to Alice Mandrake?" The female officer responded.<br />
<br />
"Yes, in a manner of speaking" Dr Bukoski went on "The abuse she suffered as a child at the hands of her parents tipped her over the edge and scarred her for life. And the only way she could deal with her sexuality was to cultivate a split personality!"<br />
<br />
"I don't get it!" The rotund male officer interjected "<i>Everything</i> she said sounded so real!"<br />
<br />
"In her mind it <i>was</i> real!" Dr Bukoski went on "When she discovered Ryder was gay, it shattered her fantasies because it broke the rules. The poor man became a victim of her disillusionment"<br />
<br />
"And what about Tony Ball?" The prickly female officer asked.<br />
<br />
"He was an inconsequential nobody!" Dr Bukoski informed her "Mandrake let him live because he meant nothing to her. Unlike Sacha Ryder of course!"<br />
<br />
The two officers shook their heads.<br />
<br />
Sacha Ryder had been stabbed in the neck five times with a cake knife.<br />
<br />
They found his body in the storeroom.<br />
<br />
Dr Bukoski and the two officers turned to look at Alice Mandrake.<br />
<br />
She was staring at the glass window now.<br />
<br />
It was as if she could see her audience.<br />
<br />
A smile slowly crept across her face.<br />
<br />
"I think you'll find that Alice Mandrake is as much a victim as the people she murdered!" Dr Bukoski concluded.<br />
<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf5_Gd0b3SmLko-Ql6YWv45I7lOiw0F85U-wmCpyp0ox-CieD7v-J39NaaYkjnoldu8BS89Cga6WXCXl70Vi91FZ1VJewzYSPOXKWSTL0lG6DFFoI4rTVlsppZGzwZNDo-g7MTmdzS5zI/s1600/1sm+by+karakuji.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf5_Gd0b3SmLko-Ql6YWv45I7lOiw0F85U-wmCpyp0ox-CieD7v-J39NaaYkjnoldu8BS89Cga6WXCXl70Vi91FZ1VJewzYSPOXKWSTL0lG6DFFoI4rTVlsppZGzwZNDo-g7MTmdzS5zI/s1600/1sm+by+karakuji.jpg" height="640" width="443" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Help Me (by karakuji deviantart.com)</td></tr>
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<br />Alex Karashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05398068721281907129noreply@blogger.com0