Terms of Affection

by M K Turner

  “Answer me. I need to know what you’re going to do. How should we handle this?”

  “We? What do you mean?”

  Rolling her eyes, Chelly shook her head. “For God’s sake, how difficult is it? If she decides to keep the baby, how will you respond?”

  “Why?”

  “What do you mean, why?”

  “Why are you asking? I need to speak to Lorna.”

  “I’m asking because it affects me. What about us? Where will she live with her bastard?”

  Without thinking Henry’s hand flew up to strike her, he controlled it as she gave a shout and cowered from him. Instead, he grabbed the sleeve of her coat and lowered his face closer.

  “There is no us. There never was. We made a deal, and I’m sticking to it.”

  “But I love you. I could have babies for you.”

  Releasing her, Henry stepped back in amazement. “You don’t know me. You had sex with me in your sitting room before you even knew my name. That’s not love.” He chose to ignore the comment about babies.

  “Not at first, I agree. But feelings can grow, Henry. Mine did for you.”

  “But that’s stupid. It was all about the sex, you had no interest in me. You never even asked how I was, you just wanted sex.”

  Unable to get his thoughts in any form of order, Henry turned back to the path. Lorna had to be his priority, he had to speak to her tonight. If it meant telling her about Chelly, then he would have to take that risk. If he was going to be a father, his heart almost stopped at the mere thought of it, he had to man up.

  “The sex was good because I loved you.”

  Hearing the sob in her voice, Henry turned his head already shaking a denial. “No it wasn’t.”

  “Are you telling me you didn’t enjoy it? I don’t believe you.”

  “Not the last time. Not in the car. That wasn’t good. It was cheap and nasty, it wasn’t like me . . .” Not willing to use Lorna’s name in the conversation, he let the sentence drift away, and resumed his journey, increasing his speed.

  “Not like what?” Following him, Chelly hurried as best she could. “Tell me what it’s like, then perhaps I’d understand.”

  “You wouldn’t.” Henry’s pace didn’t falter.

  “But how do you know? Tell me.”

  Coming to a halt, shoulders rounded, Henry stared at the ground and his mud-splattered shoes. He waited for Chelly to catch up before turning.

  “Listen, this is ridiculous. The first time we had sex, it was good, fabulous in fact, but it was wrong. You’re married.” He ignored her snort of derision. “The second time, at the hotel was okay. Just the sex. But everything about it made me feel guilty. I was seeing Lorna and it was wrong. Then once I’d been with Lorna, I knew what it was about.”

  “What? Are you saying she taught you how to be a good lover? Please. Don’t be ridiculous, I . . .” Chelly grabbed his arm. “Are you telling me, Lorna was an experienced lover, that she was better than me?”

  Henry had to lower his eyes from her look of shock.

  “Yes, it was better than you, and no, she wasn’t experienced then. She was a virgin, we discovered each other. It was beautiful and pure, not . . . well, you know.”

  Struggling to keep her chin from quivering, Chelly snapped her head up. “Then? You said she wasn’t experienced, then. Just how often are you two screwing around?”

  Jabbing his finger close to her face, Henry leaned forward. “That’s what you don’t get. Probably because you’ve never kept your knickers on long enough to find out. It’s not screwing, that’s what you do. It was love. Real, bloody, heart-stopping love. The answer to your question is that if having a baby will make her happy, then, yes. I’m glad. Yes, I’ll marry her, but I would have anyway, baby or no baby.” Pulling his hand back to his side, he shook his head. “Go home. I’ve finished talking to you.”

  Chelly sat on the side of the furrow she had been walking in, her face void of emotion. Henry waited a second, and when she didn’t speak, he thought he’d made his point.

  “I’m going now. I have to speak to Lorna. Be careful climbing back to your car.”

  Knowing he’d wasted too much time, and hurrying as best he could over the uneven ground, Henry heard Chelly shout that she’d tell, but he kept moving. He already had a plan. First, he would tell Lorna everything that had happened between him and Chelly, then wait and see if she told him about the baby. If she didn’t, he’d have to think again, but he loved her, and he wasn’t going to allow their relationship to go any further without being totally honest.

  Hearing a different noise from Chelly, he stopped and turned, worried that she’d fallen. One side of The Ridge was now a sheer drop of thirty or forty feet, a reminder of the former quarry that had formed it. He himself was walking along the couple of feet that separated the rutted path from the edge of The Ridge. If Chelly had followed she might have slipped. He was surprised to find Chelly still following him. Being more sensible she was sticking to the path. Her groan was one of frustration as one of her boots had come off.

  Sensing he had stopped she looked up. “Go on, laugh. Have a good laugh at my expense.” Finally freeing her boot, she shoved her foot back into it.

  “I’m not laughing. None of this is funny. Please go home, I’m going to find Lorna. I doubt you’ll want to be there.”

  Chelly had almost reached him. “Do you really think you love her? Because let me tell you, whatever she feels for you at the moment, is a notion of what the books and magazines tell her love is like.”

  “Not true. She loves me. You’ll see.”

  “I doubt that very much. You don’t know her like I do.”

  Henry had begun walking again, but stopped and turned back. “Lorna’s not like she is at home when she’s with me. She’s relaxed, happy, content.”

  “I wasn’t talking about her at home.” Having reached him, she held up the stick. “Pull me up.”

  “You’re better off down there. It’s dicey underfoot up here, and with those boots, I wouldn’t risk it.”

  “Pull me bloody up! I’m more than capable.”

  Thinking back to how quickly she’d scaled the side of The Ridge, Henry did as he was asked.

  Chelly nodded her thanks. “You won’t believe this, but I don’t hate her, not much anyway. It’s her father I have the problem with, and when they’re together they drive me mad. She has him wound around her little finger. He shows her far more consideration than he ever manages for me.”

  “I doubt that.”

  “Oh, do you? And what would you know, mister still wet behind the ears. You’ll find out, once someone has broken your heart, once you’ve had to listen to promises that will never be kept . . .”

  “Mr Rogers has done that to you?”

  “And the rest of them. Bastards one and all!” She stepped up to him, but resisted the urge to touch him. “I thought at least with you I’d get some decent sex without the complications.”

  Although he felt a guilty pride at her remark, Henry shook his head. “But I never promised that. Ever.”

  “No, and that’s why you were different.” She pulled off the ridiculous bobble hat. “Here’s what I think. Lorna, baby or not, will last one, maybe two years if you’re lucky. Then she’ll realise that she’s not lived any sort of life, unless you reach that conclusion first of course, and then it will be over. In the meantime, we can continue to have some fun.” Reaching out her hand she caught his flinch and left it inches away from him. “There’s little or no sex when there’s a baby on the scene, you’ll be glad to come to me.” Pursing her lips, she inclined her head. “You don’t have to decide now. Think about it, then give me a call. It’ll be fun, I promise you that.”

  “Fuck off!” Turning abruptly, Henry stormed away, shouting, “I love Lorna! Accept it.”

  “Don’t you dare tell me to…aagh!.” Chelly lost her footing, fell forward and managed to grab a clump of grass as her legs slid over the edge of The Ridge. �
�HENRY!”

  Hurrying back, Henry jumped onto the footpath and pulled her back up. He held her hand and helped her to her feet.

  “I bloody told you. I doubt you would have survived that fall.” Looking down, his head swam, and he shook the feeling away. “Go home. Get down on the path and go home.” He saw the tears. “Don’t cry. It’s just the shock.”

  “No, it wasn’t. I want you, Henry, and I’m generous enough to share you.” She lifted a shaking finger to his lips. “Don’t say anything you don’t have to answer now. Please, let me have that. Let me have the possibility.”

  “I can’t. I can’t lie to you any more than I can lie to Lorna.”

  “She doesn’t have to know. It won’t be a lie, it will—”

  “I mean, as soon as I see her, I’m going to tell her. About us. There is no us really, I’m going to tell her what’s happened, then when she makes her choice, it—”

  “You can’t, don’t be stupid, Henry.” Grabbing his arms, her tears returned. “That would finish me off. I can’t have the snotty little cow looking down her nose at me. That’s if he lets me stay around long enough. Are you mad?”

  “No. But I have to tell her. I can’t do this starting with a lie. I’ve been thinking about it, and I have to stop . . .” He hunted for the right words. “This!” Lifting his arms, he shook hers away. “I can’t live waiting for you to show up and ruin everything. I have to tell her the truth.”

  “He’ll kick me out. I want you Henry, but if I can’t have you, then—”

  “I’m sorry, I—”

  “NO!” Stepping forward she thumped her hands against his chest.

  Stumbling, Henry took a step back as she raised her fists again. He realised his mistake too late. His hands grasped at empty air as he plummeted to the bottom of the old quarry. He never screamed, he never shouted, he simply looked surprised.

  Chapter Twenty Six

  Brushing the tears away from her face, Angie closed the laptop. Unable to shake the image of Henry’s shocked expression from her mind, she wondered whether to put on the television in the hope that having something visual to concentrate on would erase it. Switching off the light in the kitchen, she went back to the sitting room, but before she lifted the remote, Lily cried out, and she hurried up the stairs.

  “I’ll go,” she told Ryan as he emerged from their bedroom.

  “Are you sure? You look washed out.”

  “Yes, go and warm my side of the bed. I doubt I’ll be long.”

  Lifting Lily from her cot, Angie hugged her close and spoke soothing words. Sitting on the spare bed, she rocked back and forth, singing Lily’s favourite lullaby. When Angie woke an hour later, her chest was wet where Lily had dribbled on her, and Lily was sleeping peacefully. Angie lowered her gently into her cot, and crept into her own bed focusing her thoughts on her sleeping daughter while silently asking Henry to let her sleep.

  On waking the next morning, the sound of Ryan singing to Lily drifted from the kitchen, and she smiled. She felt rested and calm. Showering and dressing before she went to join her little family, she decided that whatever the day brought with regards to Henry, tomorrow would be dedicated to Ryan and Lily.

  Ryan waved a wooden spoon at her as she entered the kitchen. Angie grinned at his appearance. His hair looked like he’d been given an electric shock, and he had what she guessed was a squashed raspberry stuck to the middle of his tee-shirt.

  “We thought we heard you. Scrambled egg going on now. Toast on the table, take a seat.”

  “What service. Daddy is spoiling Mummy.” Kissing Lily, she retrieved several pieces of fruit which had escaped Lily’s bowl. “How long have you been up?”

  “About an hour and a half. We’ve had a cuddle and a bottle, a little doze, and then we were starving. Tell Mummy who ate all Daddy’s toast.” Ryan made a face at Lily sending her into fits of giggles. “She’s got a back tooth coming through, she pushed the crust to the back of her mouth and gnawed on it.”

  “Yes, the first few looked cute, but these back . . . who do you think, Mum or Gran?” she asked, as her phone rang.

  “Bridget. Your mother would give you longer to get your day started. I’m dishing up, tell her you’ll call back.”

  Checking the caller, Angie raised her eyebrows. “Neither. Good morning, Inspector Tipper, how are you?”

  Ryan tapped the side of the pan with the spoon. “Two minutes,” he whispered.

  “Sorry, Frank. I’m about to eat breakfast is it . . .Oh, yes. Of course. About ten thirty. See you then.” Hanging up, she ruffled Lily’s hair. “Inspector Frank is coming with the two Nanas, won’t you be spoilt for choice this morning.”

  Placing her breakfast in front of her, Ryan sat opposite. “Is there a reason?”

  “Yes, we realised yesterday that the Henry Cooksey and Michelle Jenks cases were connected. We should have known straight away that Chris Rogers was Michelle Jenks’ partner. It appears some of the file is missing. He’s digging out the original, and coming for an update.”

  “Excellent news.” He looked confused as Angie screwed up her nose. “What, it’s not excellent news?”

  “Not really, not unless there’s another gem hidden in there somewhere. We’ve already worked that out. What we need is something new. Perfect scrambling by the way.”

  “One of my many skills. Are you ready to tell me what’s new on the Henry front?”

  “Get my laptop, I need to print it for the others, you may as well get your questions out of the way before they get here or we’ll be discussing it all day.”

  By the time their guests had arrived, Ryan had read the latest instalments, showered and had a dash to the shops with Lily to buy an assortment of cakes. Their little sitting room was full, and Ryan had to sit on the floor with Lily.

  As soon as everyone was settled, Bridget pounced. “Frank, what have you found out? Why was the file incomplete? Poor show. I know it was only for us, and therefore unofficial, but what if it hadn’t been?” She had her schoolmistress face on: a mixture of I’m very disappointed, and, don’t mess with me or you’ll regret it.

  “Administrative error. Not mine, but I didn’t check. When the clerk handed me the files he’d copied, I made assumptions. Apologies.” He tapped the envelope on the arm of his chair. “I have it here for you.” His lips twitched a smile as Bridget’s hand sprang forward.

  “Thank you, apology accepted.”

  “Mother! There’s no need to be quite so rude. You’re not headteacher here.” Margaret turned to Tipper. “I’m sorry, Frank. Mother likes to think she’s in charge of everything.”

  Flipping her apology away, Tipper smiled at Bridget. “No problem, actually I thought Mrs Bearing was quite polite, you should have heard my language after you called. As Mrs—”

  “Bridget, Frank, we’ve been through this many times.”

  Tipper nodded. “As Bridget correctly pointed out, having an incomplete file on an official handover could have been disaster.”

  Beaming, Bridget pulled the papers from the envelope and began to read. “Is there anything here you picked up on, Frank? Is the Carol Watkins case linked to these two? How did you choose what three to give us? Luck, or a policeman’s intuition?”

  “Neither. Date and location. As this project is new to us, I decided it might help you if rather than send you off all over the place I stuck to the Bristol patch. And then the date. Those three all went missing within six months of each other. Mind you, I didn’t think they were connected, just that as you’d be looking at what happened at that time, you might find information useful to more than one of them.”

  “In what way?” Tipping her head, Bridget allowed her glasses to slide down her nose as she peered at him.

  “No idea. The circus was in town perhaps? It was the Queen’s silver jubilee, there were street parties,” he held up his hands, “you know, that sort of thing.”

  “Well, I think we can safely say that wasn’t the case. Unseen hands guided y
ou, that much is clear.”

  Rolling her eyes, Margaret set her cup on the coffee table. “You should have been on the stage, Mother. Such drama all the time. Is there anything there?” Holding out her hand she took the papers from her mother.

  “Not that I can see. Didn’t get any feelings from it either. I’ve not been of much use at all on this one.” Bridget’s face fell. “Hopefully, I’ll be more use when we speak to Lorna’s father.”

  Exchanging a glance with her mother, Angie reassured her, “Don’t be daft, Gran. You better than anyone know that we don’t get to choose, it either happens or it doesn’t. Why do you think you’ll be better off with Chris Rogers?”

  “Because I’m also ancient. Has Lorna called back by the way?”

  “No, not as yet. I’ll give her another ring when we’re done here. And you’re not ancient, as you’ve said he’s got a few years on you.”

  To change the subject, Margaret waved the papers Tipper had brought. “Confirms what we knew. Chris Rogers didn’t take Lorna to the station with him because he had never married Chelly, or Michelle, what shall we decide to call her? Anyway, that doesn’t matter. He explained to the police that she ‘took’ the name Rogers to save embarrassment for him at school, and for Lorna.” Her eyes narrowed. “But the officer who interviewed them at the house and spoke to the neighbours, has clearly marked on here no further action necessary. Planned departure.”

  “Well it was almost right. We know she’s dead, but once she found out about Lorna, she did pack to leave. Who knows, she might have done that, and the officer was right in his assessment. Something might have happened to her after she left.”

  Even inspector Tipper raised his eyebrows. “Yes, but I think we all know that’s unlikely. Now I’m up to date with what happened I need to start a search for Henry’s body. Do you think if we go there, you’ll be able to work out roughly where he fell?”

  “Yes, I think so. I will know near enough, but if I can’t pinpoint it, I can always approach from the other side.” Angie didn’t look too keen on the prospect. “When would you like me to try?”