Solange looked up and nodded her affirmative thoughts on this point then continued sewing.
Margaret continued thoughtfully. “I decided a long time ago that I did not want an ordinary life. A life where I was beholden to any man who came along and wanted to settle down and have children, a roast cooked on Sundays, and maybe to part my legs and make babies at his whim. I didn’t want a life where I had no say and no rights to my own independence. So what Nate and I have developed over the years, gives me that independence. I am my own woman. And I also have the very best of the life that many women might think of as a ‘good marriage’. But my freedom has always been so very important to me that it’s very hard to sacrifice so easily. Solange, I’ve fought hard to have this life. And I love my life.”
“But that’s not what the life you have now is, and it’s not what Nate is offering you to go back to. Is it?” The gloves were finished and Solange sat with them in her hands, smoothing them out and inspecting her handiwork. She’d made a point of not looking at Margaret this time and simply let her question hang in the air between them, before asking what she really wanted to know. “So, what’s changed for you?”
“Anthea died so Nate is free to marry - he wants to stand up to his mother finally and have what he wants.”
Solange stood up fast, pushing her chair back with her legs in such a way that Margaret was startled by the sudden movement. “Knickers and Knobs!” She exclaimed angrily. “You just got through telling me how you don’t want this and don’t want that… and yet as soon as he proposes exactly what you have said you never wanted in your life, you’re all gushy like a girl.” She hmphed and muttered under her breath as she laid the gloves in a long white box and folded tissue over them, securing the lid with a ribbon. Handing it to Margaret, her tone softened a little as she said: “My dear girl, it’s time you sat down and thought hard about what you really do want. And part of this also means you have to resolve your own marital status if being openly with Nate is your greatest desire. Have you thought about that? This man you married for convenience a few years ago is turning out to be a massive inconvenience now for you, but could still prove to be very convenient for Nathaniel Cook to use as a means of delaying his big ideas, or holding back in some ways.”
Margaret looked at her friend and realized the truth of her words. She needed to think a lot more about what she wanted in this relationship and for her own life. Was being ‘married’ now what she was finally ready for?
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Gregory made his way quietly through the night, dressed to blend into the shadows, keys to the warehouse firmly in his pocket and two small knapsacks on his back. His plan was to get in and out quickly, grab some of the bracelets and other jewelry sets from out of their boxes and seal them back up so that no one could see they were missing until the goods were unpacked and ready to be sold. This would serve to throw the suspicion of the theft to everyone from the warehouse manager to the delivery drivers and even perhaps the store staff. It would mean that perhaps he’d get one more shot at this opportunity before the security was tightened so much as to limit the next round, but that was OK. For Gregory, it was more about the fun of the game than the need for financial return. He had amassed more than enough for himself to retire early on, but was happy to keep working for a long while yet. This was simply a bonus. As for Kaiden and his girls, they were really not Gregory’s concern - but for now, they served their purpose and there were financial benefits for all.
The warehouse sat in darkness and the moon tonight was partly hidden by clouds, so the visibility was lower. That served Gregory well and his night vision had already adjusted. Slipping inside the warehouse, he went straight to the boxes he’d identified the night before and spent nearly 30 minutes extracting the items he wanted, putting things back and splitting the goods between the two bags he had brought. He knew that if he looked to be leaving the area with one big sack, he might draw suspicion. But two smaller ones gave him a chance to ditch one if necessary and easily explain the other as having not much more than ‘a spare coat and sandwiches for his job at the docks’. His years as an intelligence officer during the war had served him well in knowing how to blend in, work his way out of tight situations and of course defend himself well should the need arise.
Slipping out of the warehouse a short while later, he shifted the weight of the bags and strode off in the direction of the harbor, to partially help cover his story if needed should he pass any curious police officers on the way, despite the very early hour of the day, and to ensure that he was able to ditch one of the bags in a previously planned place if he felt the need.
Intent on being vigilant of anything or anyone out of place as he made his way through the darkened streets, this time he did notice the feeling of being watched. Shrugging it off at first, he turned twice to see if he could identify where the feeling of eyes on him was coming from. Nothing there - but that’s not to say there was no threat, just that whoever it was, might have been a lot better at hiding away than he was. A quick calculation in his mind assured him that he’d done nothing in the preceding months to draw attention to himself, so doubted a police threat. Perhaps it was something or someone else. His mind jolted back to the night before in the Salty Dog where he’d noticed that scruffy man making a point of not looking at him. His mind was busy with that thought when the man stepped out in front of him.
“Where are you going at this hour?”
It was the same man he’d seen at the Salty Dog. Even in the pre-dawn light, he could see him quite clearly. “Who wants to know?”
“What’s in your bag?” the stranger took a step closer and Gregory noticed he was in fact taller than he’d thought, wiry and lean, and smelled bad.
Gregory shoved hard at him with an elbow into the man’s solar plexus, then ran. He heard the stranger fall, with a loud ‘oomph’ then pick himself up and follow at a little distance behind, but slowing. Neither man was particularly fit, and running in the dark when unfamiliar with the area was not so easy to do. Gregory made several wrong turns before finding his way again, back at where he was familiar with the street he was on. He slowed, paused in a darkened doorway and listened over the sound of his own heavy breathing. Nothing. He hoped he’d lost the man, but waited for a few moments before continuing. He quickly made his way to the first place he’d identified where he’d be able to leave one of the bags and slipped into the ally, glancing around quickly and going behind the builder’s rubble there. A box with a metal lid was secured under some broken bricks and he quickly put the smaller of the two bags inside, and shoved a block of broken concrete and some dusty bricks back on top of it, then resumed his path towards the docks, deviating as he neared them and made his way finally home. There, he secured the second bag into his own secret cavity behind bolts of fabric and poured himself a large glass of scotch. Sitting quietly in the dark with it, he pondered his encounter with the man. Who was he? And why was he following him? No answers came and he finally drifted off to sleep in his chair before packing himself off to bed as the sun started to gain some presence in the day.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Thomas was surprised at the strength of the man, and it took the wind out of him more than he’d have expected. When he decided to confront him and take a share of whatever he had acquired in the warehouse, he thought the element of surprise would have served him better. But his opponent was clearly better experienced at evading such a surprise tactic. He gave chase for a while but soon realized it was futile. He’d lost too much ground, so slowed his run to a walk. To his delight he turned a corner a little while later and spotted his quarry turning out of a small street that turned out to be an alleyway used by builders nearby as a dumping ground for rubble. It didn’t take long for him to cast his eyes about and see a likely place for dumping and hiding something, and before long had discovered the metal lidded box and its contents. Not bothering to check inside, he took the bag, pushed the box back a bit, but not wo
rrying too much about hiding it, and walked on towards his current accommodation - a disused building waiting for demolition near the harbor bridge. Being careful to notice if anyone else was around, he grabbed his own meagre belongings and shuffled into a tight corner, with plenty of scope to see if anyone else of his kind was nearby. Sleeping lightly till morning, he grabbed his possessions and made his way to the other side of the city and located a boarding house to provide a proper bed for a couple of nights and resumed sleeping for the rest of the day.
When he awoke, he grabbed the knapsack and spilled its contents onto the bed. ‘Nice!’ he said to himself as he inspected each sparkling item. “Very nice!” He sat back and thought about everything for the next while, going out briefly to find something to eat and a bottle of beer to take back to his room, thereby ensuring he had enough food to not have to leave the room again for a day or two while he worked out what to do next. He realized two key things that were now unexpected complications.
One, the man he’d been following, now knew he was doing so and would be alert to any sign of him, and he was clearly no slug at looking after himself - probably ex-army of some description. And two, the haul of pretty baubles was a nice one to have intercepted but actually posed more problems than they may have been worth. For a start, he had no fence to pass them onto. They were valuable enough that it wouldn’t be long and they’d be reported as missing, presumably stolen, and being caught with them would be a problem indeed. Then he realized there was in fact a third problem - this all took him further away from his real objective - and that was to mess up Margaret McKenzie’s life a little more. Losing sight of that might just have cost him some good opportunities.
He sat, opened his beer and took a sip from the large brown bottle. Some money would be good, he was a little down on his luck lately. And maybe there was a way to get rid of the goodies and still get a bit of a take on the deal. He mulled that over for a bit. Various angles presented in his mind but nothing seemed quite so easy. He also had nowhere to actually hide the goods that was reliable either. So, his biggest risk was in fact getting caught with a bag full of stolen pretties that he had not himself taken, from a place he was not really sure of, and by someone whose name he didn’t know. Try explaining any of that to a copper!
Finally, he decided to return to watching Margaret for a few days and see where that led him next. With that, he stretched out on the creaky old bed, went to sleep again for the night and woke up in the morning resolved to get rid of the knapsack before it led to any additional and unwanted trouble and make his way back to where his errant wife was living her own strange existence.
On the way, he dropped the backpack of loot in a park, behind a tree, and buried it slightly under a bed of leaves - who knew, it might even be there later… but he made peace with the fact that was perhaps unlikely. He did keep a couple of items he thought might be good enough to pawn, and hoped that was a good idea as he walked away, ensuring they were well secreted at the bottom of his bag in a rolled up threadbare sock.
As he drew near to Margaret’s lodging house, he noticed her leaving and heading in the direction of the man’s residence and store, so followed from a very discreet distance. Positioning himself outside, but a fair distance away, he waited until she emerged. About an hour later, he saw her step out of the small shop, followed a moment later by a wildly dressed woman wearing sequins and a hat that was almost comical with its two bouncing peacock feathers that matched the blues and greens of her long dress - totally inappropriate for the day, and probably for the warmth of the weather too. The two of them jostled along the busy pavement to the tram stop and waited, talking and smiling. There was something so odd about the woman that it took Thomas a while to realize her familiarity.
‘It was the man. He was sure of it. But how? Strike that - just how bizarre!’ he thought to himself. What the fuck was that all about? He decided to venture just a little closer to see for sure. By the time he was nearly in a position to better see the strange man/woman, the tram arrived and they were soon on it and out of sight. He decided then to wait until the creature returned, and sat nearby in a fairly crowded area, pulled out a harmonica and slowly whiled away a couple of hours playing it with a hat out beside him collecting a few coins from passersby. It was an easy way to justify hanging about and, so long as no cops moved him along, it was a good way to earn enough for dinner too. His luck further paid off as a couple of hours later, the man/woman got off the tram and returned to the store. A quick look around as he unlocked the door was enough for Thomas to be absolutely certain it was the same person. The look around confirmed the same set to the head and shoulders as he’d observed on the man over the past few weeks. He turned and wandered off, seeking a place to spend the pennies he’d earned for the afternoon, and mulled over what he’d learned.
Margaret had a weird faggot friend, who liked to dress like a peacock, and was by night an accomplished thief who had just stolen a small fortune in jewelry from some warehouse. He just wasn’t quite sure how this might be used against Margaret, and reminded himself yet again that that was his main purpose in being here. He pondered the questions for a few hours before finding a suitable place to rest his head for the night.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Sybil waited for a few hours after Nathaniel had left for New Zealand and then called the children in for lunch. She’d barely seen them this past two weeks while her son was home, apart from at dinner once or twice. As they both sat at the table and waited with hands on laps and hungry eyes growing rounder as meals were placed in front of each, Sybil looked at her Grandson and his sister and smiled. When they were like this, it was easy to see why the idea of being a grandparent was so appealing. Well-scrubbed faces, polite children, silently waiting to be allowed to pick up their forks. Yes, they were quite nice children really, she thought.
“Maureen, would you like to say Grace for us?” she asked.
Maureen looked at her, and nodded. “Yes Grandma.” Bowing their heads and closing their eyes, Maureen started. “Dear God, thank you for this delicious food, and for it being sunshine and warm today. Amen.”
“And for Mummy and Daddy”, added Lewis.
“Thank you, dears.” Sybil picked up her knife and fork and nodded her head to Maureen to assert they could both do the same. Lewis had not waited, but almost made it, and ignored his Grandmother anyway. He was hungry, and they were having meatloaf and he liked meatloaf, a lot.
Maureen helped him with his knife, and when they were both finished, a plate of custard- soaked blueberry tart quickly replaced their well cleaned plates. Finally, the meal was over, with all the silence required while eating with the grown-ups, and they both waited until Mrs Cook finished her own plate of dessert, before Maureen asked if they could please be excused.
“Wait a moment would you please, dear.” Sybil smiled and pushed back her plate, clearing enough space in front of her to rest her folded hands. “I wonder if you might both like to come with me to the Christmas Parade on Sunday?”
“Yes please,” said Lewis immediately. Quickly followed by, “oh… Sunday…” and frowned before Maureen pinched him on the arm. “Hey! he squeaked,” and batted at her hand scowling fiercely. “What was that for?”
Maureen glared at him. “What time will that be, Grandma?” She asked so sweetly that Sybil was momentarily surprised, but having also witnessed the not too subtle altercation between the brother and sister, she was also immediately intrigued.
“Why, lunchtime of course. Why do you ask?” Sybil made sure her tone matched the girl as she replied. She’d been around long enough to know that honey always attracted more ants than vinegar and her senses alerted her that something was behind the question.
“I think Nanny Leo is taking us to the park on Sunday,” Maureen was trying hard to keep her face composed and not look directly at her; further proof to Sybil that the child was up to something, but whatever might that be?” She looked at Lewis, whose face was also set in a p
icture of innocence, but he too was looking away from her.
“Well dear I’m sure it will be OK to miss the park just this once. You can always go on Saturday instead perhaps?” At that, Lewis turned to her and frowned, but his eyes were round. Clearly, he didn’t like that idea, so what exactly might make a child not want to go to the park a day earlier, and maybe miss a Christmas parade? She decided that a conversation with Nanny Leonora was perhaps a good idea. “Or, perhaps I could take you both to the park after the parade?” At that, both of the children’s eyebrows shot up nearly to their hairlines. Well, something is definitely going on then, she mused to herself. “You may both be excused now… run along.”
As Maureen and Lewis left the room, the girl Marija came in to clear the table, and Sybil decided to start with a gentle investigation. “The children seem a lot more settled than before, don’t you think?”
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