Terms of Affection
Page 8
“It’s a possibility, I suppose. She clearly had problems, mainly with her husband it seems, but who knows. Your gran was probably miffed at not being involved.”
Laughing at Lily’s attempt to blow a tower of bubbles off the side of the bath, he grabbed her towel and lifted her out. “Come on little one, Daddy is starving, so the sooner you’re in bed the better.”
Patting his daughter dry, he smiled at Angie as she emerged from under the bubbles. “I reckon your gran might regret encouraging your mum to join this mission you’re on.” Passing Angie the shampoo, he headed for the nursery. “Don’t be long, she’ll not settle knowing you’re in there.”
Lily didn’t settle and it was over an hour later before her parents finally sat down to dinner.
“What’s your plan of attack?” Tearing off the end of the garlic baguette, Ryan munched away as Angie considered this.
“I don’t have one, the file is with Gran. All I have are the notes I need to type up, and the things I brought back from our visit with the Cookseys.
“You didn’t mention items. What items?” A forkful of spaghetti poised in front of his mouth, Ryan tutted. “You know you really need to improve on the details.”
“They’re not relevant yet.”
“But they must be in some way, or you wouldn’t have chosen them. What are they?”
“An exercise book, which I think should have been used for maths homework, but was more of a personal notebook. I didn’t see anything wildly exciting, but then again, I didn’t have time to go through it in detail. A—”
“I can do that. Can’t I? List out all the relevant bits to help you make sense of them? What else?”
Smiling, Angie agreed. “You can, yes. You really do want to be involved, don’t you?”
“I have to fill my time somehow. What else?”
“A pair of silver stud earrings, a photograph of the rugby team, and flyer for a school dance.” She held up her finger to silence him. “And before you ask, I don’t know why those things, it just was. Now stop making me talk, this is getting cold, we’ll talk more later.”
Dishwasher loaded, Ryan picked up Angie’s car keys and went to get the collection of Henry’s things from her car. When he returned he looked concerned.
“The photograph wasn’t there. I’ve checked the car and gone through this.” He held up the exercise book. “Are you sure you picked it up?”
“Positive. I remember tucking it in the book with the earrings and flyer to keep them from sliding around when I put them in the car. That’s weird, only . . . I know where it is, Gran has it. She was sitting in the back of the car. Crafty old bird, she didn’t say, I thought she gave in too easily, agreeing to only take the file home.”
“That’s a good thing though, isn’t it? I mean, if she chose only the photograph it must have meant something to her?”
“I hope so. The film we wanted to catch starts in an hour, do you mind if I get everything typed up?”
“Not at all, carry on. I’ll get you a glass of wine. And while you’re doing that I’ll go through the book.”
Notes typed up, Angie plonked herself on the sofa and lifted the notebook and glanced at the rows of Ryan’s neat handwriting. “You have been busy. Thank you.”
“Doesn’t make much sense, or rather, it does, but doesn’t have much meaning. Not to me anyway. I’ve put dates where there was a note anywhere near the date, but Henry was not an organised lad.”
“No, I noticed. I’ll ignore the dates, won’t mean much to anything anyway, I don’t think. Right, let’s see what we’ve got.” Picking up a pencil, Angie turned to the first page.
I’m going to ask her!
Play it cool or go for it?
YES – YES - YES
First or last dance? Does it matter?
Lorna – WOWZER! I’m in heaven.
Coming to tea – oh God.
Lorna ??
Trouble brewing – make the call!!!
LR is coming. Bus stop at 6.30
Bloody weather! No Lorna, no training, phone Jamie about using school hall. Call L.
Extra lesson?
Oh what a wicked web – SHIT!
Bus stop @ 7
Got to get rid – shit!
Lorna 3rd April – buy present – what?
Got earrings. Broke!
Presentation Saturday 7.30 coach says wear tie – why?
Ask Lorna.
Did it!
Parents!!!!
Must bite the bullet! DO IT!
Sat. Night Fever on Saturday call Simmons – ask Dad for lift
Placing the notebook on her lap, Angie tapped the pencil on her chin.
“Do you see what I mean? It meant something to him, but with no follow on comments, it’s not much use to you, is it?”
“I don’t know. It might help. Some of this makes sense. The first comment is obviously about him building up the courage to ask Lorna out, then she says yes. They go to the dance, and we know what happened there, and that explains the next entry, wowzer. Lorna gets an invite to tea, and then he says there’s trouble brewing. That’s the bit that interests me. Look.”
Placing the pad on the table she drew a circle around the entries of interest: Trouble brewing – make the call!!!, Oh what a wicked web – Shit! Got to get rid – shit! Must bite the bullet! DO IT!
“These four are not to do with Lorna, or only indirectly. I think these are about whoever he was seeing before Lorna. His mother says she heard him end the relationship, and it seemed to go amicably, but these notes would indicate that there was more going on than she knew.”
“Unless he had more than one girl on the go at the same time. One he finished with and one he had more of an issue with?” Turning the pad to face him, Ryan tapped it. “Oh what a wicked web, who’s he trying to deceive? I’m surprised the police didn’t pick this up.”
“Why would they? It’s an odd note here or there, not related to anything else. I can understand why it was overlooked. A more interesting question is why, out of all the things his mother could have kept, did she keep a book containing what appears to be ad hoc jottings. I’ll make a note to ask her when I see her again.” Flipping to the back of the pad, Angie started a list.
“It looks like that wasn’t any help. Did you print off the latest instalments? I’d like to have a read of them.”
“I thought we were watching the film.”
“We are. It won’t take that long. I’ll get you another glass while I’m up, shall I?”
“Go on then.”
Lifting the flyer, Angie studied it, wondering why she’d thought it was of interest. Going on the date, it was the dance she already knew about. Did something other than their liaison in the sports cupboard happen? Had she missed something? She dropped the leaflet back onto the table, but the movement of air as Ryan entered the room caused it to float to the floor.
“I’ll get it.” Ryan handed it to her, and she grinned. “What?”
“I didn’t know why this was important, I know all about the dance. It must have been this.” Holding up the flyer, she revealed the note written in pencil on the back. “I can’t believe I didn’t look.”
Squinting to read the words, Ryan took the sheet back. “Oh Batman, if you think this was good, wait until later. Meet me at the bus stop tonight. R, kiss.”
“What happened at the bus stop, I wonder?” Flipping back to the front of the pad she pointed at only one of the entries. “Wonder if it was then? Hmm, oh, I don’t know. Put the film on, this will drive me mad otherwise. It will either come or it won’t.”
Throwing her the remote, Ryan waved the sheaf of papers at her. “You get it going, I’m going to read this.”
“And what happened to my wine?”
“Oops. I’ll be two minutes.” Placing the papers on the arm of the sofa, he went to collect the drinks.
Picking them up, Angie rearranged them into chronological order. As she was finding out, what happened to these
poor souls was never revealed in the order the events took place. She handed them to Ryan once he’d put the glasses on the table.
“There you go, that should make it a little easier to follow. I’ll sort the film out now.” Clicking through the various options, she chose the film they had recorded a few nights before. “I hope this is as good as the hype.”
Already immersed in Henry’s final months, Ryan flipped his hand dismissively. “Carry on, I can listen while I read.”
Barely ten minutes into the film, which if she were honest, Angie was struggling to engage with, Ryan set the manuscript on the table and picked up his wine. After a few sips and staring blankly at the television screen for a while, he announced, “I agree with Bridget. Chelly Rogers is the top suspect.”
“Okay. We’ll see. I’m not convinced this is going to be any good, we’ll be predicting the end before we’re half way through. Too much like paint by numbers.”
“We’ll see.” Ryan threw her dismissive words back at her. He’d wanted a conversation that was not going to be forthcoming.
“Are you stroppy?” teased Angie with a smile. “What did you expect me to say? I can’t make it up, Ryan, she either will or won’t be the heartless soul who killed him. But I don’t know, what I do know from my meagre past experience, is that my second guessing is usually wrong, so, as I said, we’ll see. . . I hope.”
“I understand. Perhaps you’re wrong about the film then, turn the volume up.”
Laughing, Angie threw a cushion at him. “Touché. Spit it out, what is it you want to say?”
“Nothing of consequence, just what a waste. You have to get justice for him, for Lorna and her boys too, it’s just awful to think of what might have been. Blimey, I must be going soft in my old age.” Clearing his throat, he came to sit with Angie, slapping her on the knee, he chinked his glass against hers. “Cheers, now watch the film. But, when you do get back to Henry, concentrate on Chelly Rogers, if that’s possible. Something is going on there.”
“I will.”
“Good.”
An hour later, Angie lifted her head from Ryan’s shoulder and wiped the dribble from the corner of her mouth. She had no idea how long she’d been asleep, and was about to ask when Ryan snored. Perfect. There was something she need to get done. Tiptoeing out of the room, she sat at the kitchen table and opened her laptop.
Chapter Eleven
Resting his bike against the hedge, and walking slowly up the path, Henry scanned the windows of the house wondering if Lorna was in. He snorted at himself. Even if she was, what would he do, tell her he fancied her in front of her father? Why the hell hadn’t he thought this through? He saw a curtain twitch in the middle window of the first floor, and his heart thundered. Blowing out a series of breaths, he answered his own question: because this is how Lorna Rogers made him feel. Pushing the bell, he stepped back, mentally crossing his fingers. When the door opened, he hoped his disappointment didn’t show.
“Hello, I’m Henry, I’ve come for a lesson with Mr Rogers.”
“Well, Henry, you’d better come in. I take it he didn’t manage to get hold of you?”
“Mr Rogers? No, has it been cancelled?”
“I don’t think so, but he is going to be late. He has a puncture and can’t get the wheel off. I’ve called the RAC for him. He shouldn’t be long. Can I get you a drink? Take a seat.”
“Do you know how long? I have rugby practice at seven thirty.” Dropping his kit bag, Henry perched on the edge of the sofa, his eyes darted around the room trying to find a trace of Lorna. All he could find was a picture of her at junior school, all bunches and freckles. She was cute even then.
“Ah, rugby, I thought you looked strapping. I’m sure you’d have been able to get the wheel off, what with these muscles.” Chelly Rogers leaned forward, aware her cleavage was inches from his face, and squeezed his bicep. “Wow. So hard.” Smiling at the colour rising to his cheeks, she flipped her hand. “Am I embarrassing you? Don’t be embarrassed, we’re all adults here.”
Henry had three options, look at her ample cleavage, look into her eyes, or close his own. He settled for looking into her eyes, which twinkled with amusement. “I’m not.”
“Not what - embarrassed or an adult?”
Becoming irritated, Henry sat back on the sofa. “Embarrassed.”
Chelly’s painted nails skimmed her breasts. “Good, that means you’re a man. I like a strong man.”
She leaned closer, and for a moment Henry thought she was going to kiss him, but she stood upright.
“No more blushes. Well done, Henry. Now what would you like to drink?”
“I’m fine, thank you.”
“If you’re sure. I’m having one.” Walking to a cabinet in the corner, she opened it to reveal a row of bottles. Selecting one holding a clear liquid, she poured some into the tumbler already sitting on the coffee table. Replacing the bottle, she walked back to Henry and sat next to him. “Tell me about you, Henry. What makes you happy? Cheers.” She lifted her glass.
“I’m not sure what you mean. But rugby is what I love doing, so, rugby?”
“Good answer. Well done.” Patting his knee as she spoke, she left her hand there as she took another sip. “Are you a good boy, Henry?” Her fingers squeezed his knee.
“Um, yes?”
Willing himself not to blush, Henry could feel he was becoming aroused and needed to get as far away from her as possible. He shunted forward to stand up. Unfortunately, this made the situation worse. Chelly lifted her hand a little as he moved, so all he achieved was the shifting of his embarrassment closer. It didn’t go unnoticed, and Chelly lowered her hand, it was now on his upper thigh and dangerously near his erection. Placing her glass on the floor, she looked from his eyes to his crotch.
“Are you trying to tell me something, Henry?”
“No. Look, I’d better get going.” Terrified to move as there was no way of avoiding her hand, Henry remained where he was.
“Surely not. He’s going to be at least another hour. You’re a man, who is clearly pleased to be here.” Looking at his crotch, she allowed her finger tips to make contact. “Why would you want to go?” Stroking his erection, she leaned forward, her chin resting on his shoulder, her eyes gazing at him. “Is this not good?”
Unable to speak, Henry remained silent and perfectly still. His mind, however, was running at full steam. Should he? He wanted to. What if Mr Rogers came home? What if Lorna came home? Shit, he would come in his pants in a moment. What should he . . .? Oh God, she was pulling on his zip. He groaned as, having unzipped his trousers, she fumbled with his underpants and released him.
Raising her hand, she pushed his chest. “Lean back, Henry, we’re going to enjoy this.”
Henry’s head hit the back of sofa and he stared at the ceiling as she repositioned herself. Unless he was wrong, he was going to experience oral sex for the first . . . Oh God. She was doing it. He thrust upwards and she lifted her head.
“Steady, big man. This has to work for both of us.”
Aware she was getting to her feet, Henry tilted his head. Unable to move, wanting to escape, but wanting more, he watched with amazement as she hoisted the skirt of her dress. She had a fabulous figure, and his eyes widened as she stepped out of her knickers, folded them neatly, and tucked them into the pocket of her dress.
Hoisting it back up, she wiggled her hips. “Does that noise mean you like what you see? Talk to me, Henry. Look what I have for you.” Her hand travelled across her belly and her fingers disappeared.
Henry closed his eyes and groaned.
“Oh Henry, dear, dear, Henry. Come here.” Stepping closer she lifted his hand and opened her legs. “I’m hot, Henry, can you feel that? Oh, Henry, have you done this before? I think you have.” It was Chelly’s turn to groan with pleasure. But as Henry’s fingers moved with the rhythm of her body, she jumped away.
Panting, Henry grabbed his erection. This was so wrong, but so bloody good.
Barely able to contain himself, Henry lunged forward, wrapping his arms around her, his lips sought hers. She angled her head away so he couldn’t reach.
“No kissing, this is just for fun. Just fun, big man remember that.” Grasping his chin, she grinned at him. “Now fuck me before I explode.”
And he did.
When she returned from the bathroom, Henry had straightened his clothes, tidied his hair, and was pacing the length of the coffee table, his kit bag over his shoulder. “I have to go. I can’t wait any longer.”
“Then I shall tell Mr Rogers that. Thank you for coming, Henry.” She paused to pout at him. “I do hope you come again. Soon. When is your next lesson scheduled?”
“What? I don’t know. Really? Why?”
“So many questions.” Walking so close he could feel her breath on his chin, she whispered, “I know you want more, so do I, but this has to be our secret, Henry. You mustn’t tell anyone, not even your best, most trusted friend. If you do, I’ll find out, and more importantly, so will my husband.”
Lowering her hand to his crotch, she caressed him. “And then there will be no more fun. Oh, Henry, again? There isn’t time. Let me show you out. Call me and we can arrange something before your next lesson. We can try something different perhaps, not that I have any complaints.”
Henry stepped away. This was surreal. What the hell was he going to do? “I have to go.”
“I know. But you do want more?” She placed a hand on his chest to stop him passing her.
Unable to lie, Henry nodded.
“Good man. Call me. Now you’d better get a move on, or you’ll be late for rugby.” Following him into the hall, she watched as he retrieved his bike from behind the front hedge. “Oh look, here he is now. Bye, Henry.” Lifting her hand, she waved, but Henry was already pedalling away at full pelt. There was no way he could even look at his teacher.