TouchStone for ever (The Story of Us Trilogy)

by Sydney Jamesson

  “Name what?”

  “The emotion?” I reach for a tissue and wait.

  He turns away and stands face to face with his reflection. “No.”

  All I can do is sneer. “I have taught you nothing.” I pick up my bag. “Then I’ll tell you. What you should be feeling, shall I?” I don’t bother waiting for a reply. “Compassion.”

  I turn to face him, head bowed, stopping only when I see a vision. Outside, the clouds have been chased away and the full moon hangs low and bright in the sky. It may well be staged but, from where I’m standing and his position by the window, his head is arced by a circle of white light. I cover my mouth with my hand to stifle my mournful sobs.

  “Beth, it pains me to see you so distressed.” He holds out his hand.

  I won’t take it.

  “What if I said I could tell you what your future holds, would you want to know?”

  He piques my interest with that possibility. “Is this another one of your tricks?”

  “No. I have come to the conclusion that my tricks, as you call them, have no relevance at this point. There is little I can say or do to persuade you that my intentions are honourable.”

  Honourable?

  “You have made it perfectly clear what your intentions are, and honourable is not the word I would use, quite frankly.” I grab another tissue out of my bag. “But go ahead. This I’ve got to hear.”

  He directs me to the sofa. We are sitting opposite each other like chess players anticipating each other’s moves and trying to think ahead before giving anything away. He glances to his left side, seeming to scroll forward.

  My tears are beginning to dry and my cheeks are smarting from the tidal wave of salt water they have endured. I’m sitting, waiting, wringing out the paper tissue between my hands, trying to convince myself that everything he says will be a lie laced with selfishness and jealousy. Maybe I should just leave now while I have the willpower?

  His eyes meet mine. “You will continue on your fateful path and continue to love and live the life you imagined …”

  My body sags. I was fearful of his prediction but now I’m elated …

  “… for several years at least. You will not be able to give Ayden a child and his dream of having a family will not be fulfilled.”

  No!

  “You will grow apart. After five years he will begin to spend more time at the office; he will work late, have an affair – or two - and you will begin to drink.” He faces me squarely. “Champagne mostly. You’ll start to lose your looks and your beauty will fade. He will not see you the same way he does now.”

  I fall back into the sofa. Feeling utterly desolate I close my eyes, allowing my head to fall, with neither the strength nor desire to lift it from its penitent position.

  He continues to chronicle my life, recounting it like one might a Victorian novel. “When you are thirty five your husband will demand a divorce. You will become a wealthy woman but your nights will be spent alone.” He pauses, no doubt giving me time to absorb his poisonous prediction. “Your husband will return to his previous lifestyle and you will be able to follow it in the news, in magazines and on the TV but you will be on the outside looking in.”

  I raise my head and fix him with a scornful stare. “Are you finished?”

  “Not quite.” Taking his time he folds his hands on his thighs, glances about the room and resumes his tortuous prophecy. “Several bad business decisions and a technical flaw will bring about a fall in share price for ASMI and several millions of pounds in revenue will be lost as a result. With returns on investment floundering, units will be sold to reduce company debts. A cost saving initiative will be introduced, resulting in the closing of Far Eastern units and …”

  I’m holding up my hands. “Enough! Why are you telling me all this? I don’t care whether my husband has two hundred or two million pounds in the bank. That’s never mattered to me.”

  “But it has mattered to him,” he states, plainly. “As his business loses favour so does he. Three days before his forty second birthday he is found beaten and robbed outside a London night club.”

  All I can do is shake my head. “You’re a liar. That’s not how this story ends. This is some elaborate creation you’re concocting to make me feel as if I have no choice but to be with you. You’re suggesting my staying with Ayden would lead to his downfall and his death.” I snatch my bag from the sofa. “Why would you say such terrible things?”

  He shrugs his shoulders. “Because that’s what I see.”

  “You have it all wrong. All you see is what you want to see. You want us to fail.” I will not allow him to see me cry. I have shed enough tears to fill an ocean. No more.

  “You act as if love is a kind of condition; something for which there is no cure. Love is not that. Love is that which remains once you realise you could not love another person more; so deeply, sincerely and unconditionally. That’s what love is. That’s what we have.“ I sniff and raise my chin boldly. “When I look in your direction I’m drawn to you because you have the face of an angel, but you’re not Ayden.” I stand, pulling down my sweater and, for the first time, tower over him. “You can’t scare me with talk of divorce and death. All that does is remind me of how desperate you are; that someone of such high-standing would stoop so low to get what he knows is not his to steal.” I launch my final assault through a single thought, using words from Ms. Bronte’s I know he will recognise and understand.

  Your presence is a moral poison that would contaminate the most virtuous.

  Not stopping to hear more he stands and regains some of his status through his height. Through eyes swamped in tears I witness him in his sorrowful subterfuge and read it as a sign. I approach him, take his face in my trembling hands, close my eyes and taste his lips. Overcome by drowsiness I open my eyes languidly to be greeted by glossy, sea green eyes.

  “I love you,” he murmurs.

  Through swollen lips I force a smile and whisper adoringly, “I love you more.”

  The garage door jerks into motion. In ten long seconds it creates a crack wide enough for a boisterous Boxster to slip through.

  After heading west for fifteen minutes I indicate and join the M4 when, without warning, the radio begins to play. I know the song and understand the message. Christina Perri is singing A Thousand Years. Regardless of which button I press it continues to play until the final orchestral note, every chord ripping at my heartstrings.

  With open road ahead, I put my foot down and cruise at 80 miles an hour, flicking through lanes and overtaking with ease. It’s ironic how reassuring it feels to be encapsulated in this sweet little car after the confinement of my Belgravia home. This cockpit is womblike, the air thick with memories and Ayden’s cologne.

  As the plummeting darkness swallows up the rural landscape I’m sniffing back tears, pressing buttons in search of headlights and wipers to clear away noisy raindrops that are rattling against the glass like bullets. Every new volley is a reminder of the battle raging in my mind and the conflicting emotions I’m harbouring.

  The motorway stretches out before me, a road leading me nowhere punctuated by the soundtrack to our love affair. The story of us plays out one song at a time. I fast forward to transatlantic tunes that closed the miles between us.

  One after another the tracks play out, bringing with them a heart-breaking series of flashbacks. Every song sparks a memory, every memory fuels more tears until the cars in front are no more than smudges on the windscreen. J-Lo reminds me of a time when I was eating cereal and thinking I’m into you, Hoobastank explains The Reason for your devotion. We’re Feeling Good and dancing on our terrace in Rome thanks to Michael Bublé. And it’s all too much.

  I search for less meaningful songs but there are none; each recollection of images leaves me with only one conclusion: You’re all I have.

  I turn off Stone Patrol and search for something less emotionally charged on the radio. Florence Welsh sings about Sweet Nothings and I mou
th the words! She reaches the chorus. I’m hitting the accelerator. I’m gripping the wheel as if my life depends on it. The world on all sides is a blur. I turn up the volume, feeling every word as if they are my own. Like a proclamation to God Almighty they voice my utter desolation, and bring me closer to the ultimate sacrifice; to do the hardest thing I will ever have to do: to forfeit my life for the sake of another. To atone for my sins I prepare to give my soul and all that I am: everything.

  The music builds to a resounding crescendo. I fortify myself with a deep breath that might well be my last, and hit the accelerator. Glancing down I watch the dial edge past 100. Only when I raise my eyes to the open road do I spot the approaching neon sign above the motorway flashing wildly with an unequivocal command.

  STOP BETH! STOP BETH! STOP BETH!

  I can’t believe my eyes. Even now he tries to intervene, to decide my fate - but I will not be manipulated a moment longer. This is my decision to make.

  Once again above my head the sign reads:

  BETH! SLOW DOWN!

  Defiantly, I increase my speed. Out of the corner of my eyes I see a single blinding light coming up behind me; it’s filling my rear view mirror. I’m being pursued.

  Death is seeking me out, but I won’t be caught so easily. With all hope lost, I apply more pressure to the accelerator and watch the finger move on the speedometer past 120. Other cars appear to be parked as I fly past them on the outside lane like a shooting star. Through a voice strangled by tears I call out, “Everything I’ve done, I’ve done for love, Ayden. Please forgive me.”

  Unexpectedly, the rain clears from the windscreen; I see an opening in the grey curtain of clouds obscuring the horizon; and the dial begins to wind backwards like the hands on a clock turning back time. Even though the accelerator pedal is flat against the floor, I’m slowing down. Fearful of being caught I check my rear view mirror but all I see are paired headlights .

  In a blind panic I have travelled 40 miles from home, crossing junctions and flyovers with no destination in mind. I have no idea where I am.

  I signal and pull over onto the hard shoulder to park up. My nerves are frayed; my emotions are swirling. Like a drowning woman having made it back to shore, I gasp for air and wipe the salt water from my eyes.

  Overcome with fatigue, I slump back in the seat and feel myself dozing, rocked to sleep by the jerking movement of turbulent air created by passing cars. A mechanised lullaby lulls me into a false sense of security and, before I fade into oblivion, I hear Ayden’s thoughts in my head.

  It’s time to say goodbye, my darling. You have taught me so much in the brief time we have spent together. I have learned, first hand, the true meaning of self-sacrifice and there is no purer form of love than this in heaven and earth. Yours, for ever. Your dark prince.

  26

  I’m stirred from my unconscious state by a recurring sound; it’s mechanical, not human, more like a beep than a bang, but rhythmic - almost like the beating of a heart. I’m leaning forward; my head is resting on my left forearm.

  With my eyes closed I’m willing myself to go back to sleep, having realised the noise I can hear is a heart monitor. I’m alive. The finer points of the deal I made with my paramour come back to haunt me.

  If I’m alive, Ayden is dead.

  That realisation causes my body to sag; treacherous tears roll onto my arms like a bleeding heart, and I weep for the love I have lost and for the loneliness I must endure. I will pay the price for my adultery in the days and months and years I will spend mourning my loss.

  How will I survive this?

  Now my imagination is playing tricks on me. I feel someone stroking my hair, but still fearful, I close my eyes tightly, shutting out light, willing the fantasy to be real but terrified it’s not. I say a silent prayer and raising my head. Repeating over and over; please let it be a dream. Please let it be a dream. Please …

  I raise my head and turn to my left, slowly, and what I see causes me to gasp so deeply I catch my breath. I take Ayden’s hand from my hair and hold it to my lips, christening it with my tears. I have to remind myself to take a breath.

  “You’re alive!”

  He wipes away my tears with his thumb. “I think so.” He winks and I cry harder. “Don’t cry. I’m all right. I was only sleeping.” His smile forms slowly, his eyes glisten with love and I reach out to l him.

  “Careful, you don’t want to hurt yourself.” He points to a box of tissues on the bedside cabinet. “Dry your tears, Beth. It kills me to see you like this.”

  I grab a couple of tissues and blow my nose noisily. My unladylike behaviour causes him to raise a brow. Feeling facial pain, he reaches for his cheek and touches the pad concealing an injury likely to cause a scar.

  “Don’t worry about that. It’s nothing,” I reassure him, standing to pass him a glass of water. “Here, you must be thirsty.”

  He sips it slowly and hands me back the glass. “I had the weirdest dream.”

  I respond without thinking. “Me too.”

  “I was in this room waiting for you. Every time you were nearby I would call to you but you didn’t hear me, and I couldn’t make myself heard. It was like I was half asleep. I must have been waiting for you to wake me with a kiss,” He smiles broadly, forcing the skin to crinkle around his eyes; it folds into tiny creases like lifelines marking his reawakening.

  I reach out with a hand, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from his body. “I can do that.” Dragging the line from the intravenous drip with me I stand and position both of my trembling hands around his face as a mother would a small child; I close my eyes and place a soft kiss upon his lips. When I open them, all I can see is an ocean of love; a Caribbean sea with splashes of emerald.

  A sob sticks in my throat. “I’m so sorry I sent you away. I didn’t mean any of those things I said.”

  He cups my face with both hands. “I know, baby. You were just doing what you always do; putting me first.”

  “I didn’t want you to settle for someone who couldn’t give you all you’ve ever wanted.”

  He takes a handful of my hair. “Don’t start that again. You’re all I’ve ever wanted.”

  Unable to hold back my tears I let them fall. “I love you so much, Ayden. I thought I’d lost you.”

  He sniggers. “Now that’s just crazy. It would take more than a blind date with Death to take me away from you.”

  My lips quiver. “You don’t say?”

  He raises my chin with his forefinger. “So, tell me about your dream.” He pats away my residual tears with a tissue.

  I rest my chin on an upturned palm, only inches from his face. “Oh, I dreamed we were together on honeymoon. We were in Hong Kong and then we went to the Great Barrier Reef. We swam in the ocean and spent most of our time counting stars and making love.”

  He’s rolling his eyes. “Sounds to me like you got the better deal. I just couldn’t wake up, but I felt you were close by.

  I’m nodding my head. “I was.”

  He takes hold of my right hand and holds my palm against his lips. “I felt your presence, Beth. I might not have ever awakened if I hadn’t.” He caresses my fingers, stopping only when he sees the ring.

  I see it too. As hard as I try to conceal my horror I cannot. A strangled whimper escapes my mouth before I have time to mask it. A stunned silence ensues.

  Ayden breaks it. “What’s the matter?” he asks, troubled at my sudden outburst. “Come here. I’m not going anywhere, Beth.” He pulls my head into his neck. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

  Regaining some strength of mind, I wipe away my tears. “You didn’t. I visualised how different things might have turned out, that’s all.”

  “I think someone was looking out for me. When Elise took the wheel I had vision of it turning out badly, but I’ve too much to live for to go like that. I have you.”

  I’m smiling and crying but these are not tears of sadness, fear or regret; they’re tears of joy. Som
ewhere out there in the night sky is a blinding light and in that light there is goodness and compassion. Now I know the truth. I have been loved by an angel. I hold onto his hand, fearing he may be snatched away from me again. “I have you, Ayden. We have the rest of our lives to look forward to but we have to make things right.”

  He’s baffled by my assertion. “What things?”

  “Everything. We need to get in touch with D.I. Bowker and explain what’s been happening. He has a good heart …” I release my grip, run my fingers under my eyes and pull myself together. I have to put my adventure behind me and face each new day with thankfulness. I stand and straighten his bedding. “But now’s not the time to talk about that, there will be time enough …”

  Unexpectedly, the door opens behind me. Seeing me standing, Charlie lets out a deafening squeal. “No …” she rushes to my side. “You shouldn’t be moving around like this.”

  I reach for her arm. “I’m okay. Look who’s awake.”

  Having been too preoccupied with my welfare, she hadn’t bothered to look over at Ayden. When she sees him she bursts into tears. “You stupid bastard! You had her scared out of her wits!”

  It’s not the response either of us are expecting and we begin to laugh.

  “It’s good to see you too, Charlie,” he announces. “Will you get the nurse so she can turn off this damn machine and I can hold my wife?”

  Charlie wraps her arms around my neck. “He’s only been away for five minutes and already he’s giving bloody orders,” she declares, leaving the room in a hurry. “I’ll be right back, Mr. Stone.”

  I push back the wheelchair with my foot to make room for the nurse.

  Ayden notices. “You came in a wheelchair?” he asks. Hadn’t you better sit down?”

  Feeling better than I have for a long, long time I shake my head from left to right. “I feel great. Don’t worry about me. I’ve had ages to heal. It’s your turn to be my patient.”

  If only you knew the immensity of my love. There has never been a day when I haven’t been willing to lay down my life for you. Now I can sleep at night, knowing you’ll be here when I open my eyes. No longer a wish or a dream, only you.