The Bamboo Mirror

by Faith Mortimer

  She’d had a particularly lousy night and an even more so early start to the day. She’d hardly slept. Damn all men! Taking a sip of her coffee she missed and the liquid spilled down onto her skirt.

  ‘Oh darn,’ she exclaimed grabbing a handful of tissues from her bag. Now she had messed up her work clothes and she had an important day ahead.

  Chris left the table and returned with a clean wet handkerchief. ‘Here, use this.’ Indicating she should wipe off the offending stain. ‘Thanks.’ She smiled awkwardly. ‘I’m not always so clumsy. It’s just that, as I said I had a bit of bad news today.’

  Chris smiled, embarrassed. ‘Keep it. I don’t need it. I only use them to give my shoes a polish when I meet someone important.’

  The silence hung between them while Alex scrubbed away. She felt cross, for making a fool of herself in front of a stranger, and for putting up with Will’s behaviour for so long. She’d stormed out of her flat early that morning, not wanting to hear any more of his demands. She’d had enough. She knew he’d come looking for her and when he found her sitting with another man he would go spare. The self-righteous two-timing hypocrite!

  She looked around the outdoor café, it had almost emptied and yet Chris still chose to remain seated at her table. She had nothing to be ashamed of. It was Will that tried to prevent her from doing things, meeting new people or going out for an evening with her friends. It was hardly worth the trouble making arrangements to see workmates after hours as when she arrived home he berated and bombarded her with a dozen questions. ‘Where have you been, who are you seeing tonight. Why them?’ As if he had the right, and now this final straw!

  ‘It looks okay now.’

  ‘Hmm? Oh yes thank you. I think it will wash out.’ Alex looked up and again noticed how green his eyes really were. Not an icy pale-green like Will’s, but deeper and soft, radiating warmth and kindness.

  Dropping her gaze she looked back down at her lap.

  ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Fine’, she snapped.

  ‘Are you sure? I don’t like to see a woman cry. If it doesn’t wash out then dry cleaning most certainly will remove it. Can I do anything?’

  ‘No. Thanks.’ Brushing away a tear, she sniffed, inwardly cursing herself. If Will caught her crying he’d make a right meal of all this. Telling her she was pathetic and didn’t deserve him anyway. He’d done nothing for her self-esteem over the years they’d been together, she realised.

  ‘Would you like another cappuccino as you’ve only had half a cup?’ Chris smiled.

  ‘No. I really am fine. I’m sorry; it’s not the skirt. I didn’t sleep well last night and…’ She waved a hand at him wishing she didn’t sound quite so harsh. He was only trying to be helpful and kind. Kind? Will never was. ‘I’ll finish this and then I must get to work.’

  ‘Where do you work?’

  ‘In an office in the town.’

  ‘Aha.’ He leaned back in his chair studying Alex. ‘And can I ask just why you’re so tired, why you didn’t sleep last night? Talking to a stranger might seem strange but we’re hardly likely to run into each other again. It might help to talk and put things into perspective.’

  Alex shivered in spite of the warm summer’s morning sun. He spoke a lot of sense. She’d recently seen an old film where two strangers met and built up a relationship over the years…she frowned. She didn’t know him and yet…

  ‘I’ve just told my partner of eight years to leave.’ Alex whispered.

  ‘Ah! Now I understand. No wonder you couldn’t sleep. It must have been very upsetting,’ he paused.’ Can I ask why?’ His face looked very kind and caring as he looked at Alex.

  ‘Things have been under a strain for some time. Will was - is a bully and hated sharing me with my friends. He was extremely possessive and jealous, even to the point of choosing which clothes to buy and what I should wear when we went out together.’

  ‘I see. But if you put up with that for eight years, why the sudden change of heart now?’

  ‘It’s just become too much. I couldn’t take all that anymore.’

  ‘Why didn’t you just ask him to back down? Thank him but you’d prefer to do your own choosing in future?’

  ‘It wasn’t just that. Not entirely. Will believes in belittling me too. You know the sort of thing. I was just a woman, my work wasn’t important and I only got where I was because I fluttered my eyelashes at the boss blah, blah. It’s totally untrue. I really worked hard to get where I am. I went to night school and then took a degree with the Open University’

  ‘Good for you. My elder sister did that. Took a science degree when she really wanted to take an English one, but the course was full. Anyway she stuck it out, passed with a tremendous 2:1 and now writes books. You may have heard of her, Diana Rivers. She writes mystery thrillers, and dramatic adventure novels.’

  ‘Not the Diana Rivers? I love her books. Gosh, I’m talking to a real live author’s brother.’ She gave a chuckle.

  ‘That’s better. You have a lovely smile.’

  Again the velvet curtain of silence hung between them.

  ‘And then last night I was absolutely shocked.’ She paused and looked stricken, remembering.

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘I found out that for all his holier than thou, hypocritical views, bullying and possessiveness, the rotter was having an affair.’

  Chris looked momentarily stunned at her outburst, and then incredulity covered his face.

  ‘And you’re worried about throwing him out?’

  ‘Well eight years is a long time and…’

  ‘Alex you can’t be serious. You trusted him. Living together is the same as being married without the ceremonial ties. Both partners have to live by the rules surely?’

  Alex looked away, embarrassed and contrite. ‘I am sorry. Perhaps Will’s right. I am weak.’

  ‘No you’re not. You said you worked your way up in the company, and took a degree to help get there. That’s not easy when you’re working in a full time job. I know my sister worked really hard to get hers.’

  He looked and sounded like he really cared, if only Will had been as supportive.

  ‘Look. Let him go. Start anew. I know it’s difficult looking into the future but you’ll get over him. And he doesn’t deserve you by the way. You’re far too pretty for him.’ He gave her a rakish grin, which made her smile.

  Alex sat back and thought about what he’d said. She knew in her heart he was right. Will was a louse, a parasite that she needed to be rid of. Throwing him out was the best thing she’d done in a long time. Suddenly the world looked rosier.

  ‘Alex. What on earth are you doing here? Why aren’t you at work and just who is this?’ A deep angry voice made her jump.

  ‘Will.’

  Chris stood up, and suddenly he didn’t look quite so average height, or average anything.

  ‘It doesn’t matter who I am. Suffice to know I am a good friend of Alex.’

  ‘Oi! This is my girlfriend you’re chatting up, buster. Bugger off! Now. ’Will said poking Chris with a finger at his chest.

  ‘Kindly remove your finger or you’ll find it shoved where you might not like it. And Alex is NOT your girlfriend.’

  ‘I’m going to thump you, mate.’ Will drew back his fists to make the first blow. Chris blocked him with a fast Karate move and Will lay spread-eagled on the ground.

  ‘Ow! Sod it.’ A dazed Will sat up and shook his head to clear it. Alex looked on in amazement. Her birder was an expert in Karate. What a mixture. This man was definitely different!

  ‘Now you clear off.’ Chris said.

  As Will stood up a waiter came hurrying over to see what all the fuss was about.

  ‘It’s all right, no damage done, just a misunderstanding. He’s leaving now.’ Chris explained.

  ~~~~~

  Later in her office, Alex still couldn’t believe how fast it had all happened. What an amazing man and she’d left as soon as he’d got rid of Wi
ll. Alex became flustered remembering she had an important meeting and was fifteen minutes late. It was a major move in her office and her reputation was at stake…she had suggested the meeting with her boss and the prospective new company they wanted to work with and now she was looking decidedly irresponsible. Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm herself down. She reapplied fresh lipstick and smoothing down her skirt, walked the short corridor to her boss’ office. Before entering she heard voices. Too late, the managing director had started without her.

  Putting her hand upon the door knob she gave a quick knock and entered. Alex couldn’t help staring: dark blonde hair, medium height, quite slim, not handsome but pleasant looking.

  ‘Alex! How lovely to see you again. I was just asking Bob where he’d go to entertain a beautiful lady tonight. Do you like Thai food?’

  July 2011 Summer Visitors by Faith Mortimer

  If you enjoyed “The Bamboo Mirror”, you might like to read: Faith’s full length novels:

  “The Crossing”, “The Assassins’ Village” & “Children of the Plantation”.

  Available in eBook and Paperback from Amazon.

  Read on for Excerpts from these books and Faith’s NEW novel “The Surgeon’s Blade”:-

  Excerpt from “The Crossing” by Faith Mortimer

  THE CROSSING

  Dedication

  To the gallant men of the British Royal Navy Coastal Forces who served with such bravery and distinction during the Second World War.

  Prologue

  Germany 1945

  Billy collected his ‘treasures’ together and laid them at the end of his ramshackle bunk in hut nineteen. There wasn’t a lot to account for three years’ incarceration at the hands of the sometimes-brutal Germans, but his treasures represented his life and more importantly his soul. He thought about the refugees who had filed past the gates of his camp. Old people: women with children, babes in arms, the injured, burned, terrified, and the deranged. All were fleeing from the horrors. The Christians among them struggling to believe and reconcile their religious beliefs with Nazi cold-blooded excesses and mass murder.

  He considered his pitiful little pile: Christmas cards from Penny, her heavily censored letters and her simple but evocative poetry, the hand-made playing cards, two cigarettes, the German soldier’s – Dieter’s – belt buckle and Nathaniel’s penny whistle. Nathaniel. Billy shook his head in regret and fought back the familiar choking feeling that arose in his throat whenever his memory arose. He thrust his dark thoughts aside and continued picking over his possessions. He would take as many clothes as he could carry. He had nothing heavy; he’d given his Bible away, hopefully to someone who would put it to better use than he. Gathering up his things, he tied them into a bundle with his faded and much darned pullover, and slung it over his shoulder. He straightened his back, lifted his head and stood as erect as his gammy leg allowed. I’ll march out of here proudly he thought. Together with his comrades they formed into ranks and marched smartly up to the gates. The weak and sick were supported by their stronger colleagues, their spirits rising. They didn’t know where they were going, but it had to be a better place than this.

  Book 1

  Chapter 1

  The Atlantic 2005

  Richard knew he had no choice. It had to be now. He’d never get another chance. Taking a deep breath he pushed off the heaving wet deck of his yacht and with sheer determination dived for the rescue-net. He hit the water, his lower torso disappearing into the black froth that fiercely clawed and clutched at him. Somehow, he managed to stretch out and grab the harsh net with one arm, feeling it tangle around him. The ship lurched and this time he was fully immersed in deep water. What seemed like minutes later he broke the surface, coughing and choking, the salt stinging his eyes. He clamped his other hand to the netting and clung to it like a limpet. The water roared and hissed around his ears, terrifyingly black. He knew he must climb the rescue-net fast as his energy was rapidly ebbing away and conditions were not going to get any better.

  Moving one arm higher, he found a rung and hauled himself slowly up, grunting with exertion as he did so. His hands were bleeding from fresh cuts where he had smashed against the rough barnacles on the ship’s hull. Fatigue was fast overcoming him. The past few days of untold stress and lack of sleep were taking their toll. Gritting his teeth, he managed to move up another foot of net and then slowly, by willpower alone, pulled himself up rung by rung. Faintly he heard the encouraging cries of the crew far above him. He paused and looked up and saw a line of faces peering down at him; his adrenalin surged and with renewed vigour he at last collapsed thankfully on the ship’s deck.

  Utterly exhausted by his ordeal, Richard lay there not quite believing where he was. Water streamed from his body and he knew that soon he would begin to feel the cold as it seeped through to his bones. Coughing and retching seawater, Richard sat up and noticed the ring of sturdy looking sea boots clustered before him. He attempted to stand and felt strong arms supporting him. He braced his legs against the motion of the deck and looked round. A circle of anxious faces stared back; a stocky bearded fellow whom he assumed to be the captain, four or five crew members and an ashen-faced Toby.

  The captain cleared his throat, about to speak. Again, Richard looked around his surroundings and forestalled him by hoarsely saying, ‘Where’s Connie? Where’s my wife?’

  His voice wavered and he felt his heart thump wildly in his chest. There was a silence. No one spoke. All sounds drifted away from him. He was in a dreamlike glide and the reality was too strange to comprehend. He felt as though his actions were slowing, as if seen in a slow-motion film, frame by frame passing by. Everything took an eternity, a raised hand placed on his shoulder, a sentence spoken by someone slowly, but everything seen with an achingly clear focus, sharply defined. He imagined her limp in his arms, her head thrown back and the curve of her throat, so beautiful. She was gone.

  The slow world turned crimson red. It spun wildly on its axis, and then rushed up to engulf him as his head hit the hard deck with a thump.

  ***

  Sometime later, Richard struggled to clear the mistiness away from his brain. As fast as he reached out and clawed at the blackness that engulfed him he was drawn back down again into his own violent hell. He tossed and turned in delirium on the sweat-drenched bunk where the crew had placed him after he had collapsed on the outside deck.

  The ship’s medic had quickly examined Richard’s head wound and although it was a minor laceration he was more worried about the state of his patient’s mind once he regained consciousness. As he observed Richard and listened to his feverish cries of anguish he could only guess at the nightmares that coursed around his brain. The medic knew from Toby a little of what had happened on the yacht’s fated voyage and he shook his head in pity as he again wondered how Richard was going to cope. He had had everything going for him he had been told, and now this. How the hell had it all gone wrong?..........................................

  Click to buy “The Crossing” from Amazon

  Excerpt from “The Assassins’ Village” by Faith Mortimer.

  Cyprus. A Sunday in late August. Present day.

  Fair is foul, and foul is fair.

  Macbeth. Act 1 Scene 1

  ~~~

  If. Such a small word and yet… If only he had bothered to take a look at his actions. If he had cared one iota, maybe his life would not have been full of ego, lust, self-gratification and profligacy. Self-denial was unknown to him.

  ~~~

  He awoke confused and disorientated, barely able to breathe, his throat obstructed. He heard a voice; soft and persistent, close to his ear. Struggling against the cotton wool seemingly stuffed in his brain, he forced open his eyes. The man squinted at the blinding light. He knew he was lying down. The agonising pain in his left leg intensified when he attempted to move it from its impossible angle. A pain as sharp as a new razor blade cut through him. He shrieked in alarm, realising his leg was broken.<
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  The whispered voice spoke again. The man looked around him in sudden panic. Who and what was all this? And why couldn’t he function properly? He tried to speak, to answer the phantom voice, but his tongue couldn’t form the words. A sudden movement and a shadow fell across his face… Raising his head, his eyes widened as he remembered being pushed over the limestone cliff into the vineyard below. But that explained nothing. Struggling, the injured man raised himself into a sitting position to confront the shadow.

  A firm hand, calloused and strong, pushed him back down. ‘Keep still. You can’t get up.’

  The man recognised an accent. A trickle of blood rolled down between his dry, tortured lips and a thread of fear crept through him.

  The shadow spoke in a rasping voice. ‘Soon you will see. You must pay for all you’ve done.’ The shadow hissed in his face. A breath that was hot and sour.

  As the shadow bent closer the man gave a start and recoiled; he recognised his assailant. A deep chill spread through his gut despite the heat of the day. In terror, he fought at the cords binding his wrists. With desperation he cried out, spluttering through the soiled coarse cloth in his cheeks. The core of dread in his stomach spread like a foul growth of malignancy. His eyes pleaded mercy.