Terms of Affection

by M K Turner

  There was a dull thud as the bag landed in the void. Ten minutes later the suitcases had been dropped in, and Chris was directing Simmons where to nail the boards back in place. Once done they went back to the sitting room.

  “We’ll have to move her in her own car it’s right outside. Mine’s too far down the street. Shit, what will I do about the car? I hadn’t given that a thought, she wouldn’t have left without her car.”

  “Sell it.”

  “That’s easier said than done. I need it moved tonight, tomorrow at the latest.”

  “My brother sells cars, works for a place on Stapleton Road. He’ll do it.”

  “Nice idea, but I don’t think we should get any more people involved.” Running his hands through his hair, Chris groaned. “Oh shit. This is a nightmare, whichever way we do it.”

  Falling silent, Simmons wondered how he could get his brother’s cooperation without too many questions. An idea came to him.

  “You’re going to have to trust me, sir. Can I use your phone?”

  “It’s in the hall. Be careful, Simmons, or this could become a bigger nightmare than it already is.”

  “Don’t listen. You won’t want to hear this.”

  “I’m listening, there is nothing I could hear that would be worse than I’ve already been subjected to.”

  “Please yourself,” Simmons muttered as he went to the phone. Dialling his brother, he tapped his foot impatiently as he listened to it ringing. After several minutes his brother answered.

  “Hello,” he snapped.

  “Hello, mate, it’s me.”

  “For God’s sake, I was in the bath. What do you want?”

  “I’m alright, thanks for asking. What I want is for you to sell a car.”

  “You haven’t got a car.”

  “No but my girlfriend has, and she needs to sell it sharpish.”

  “Ha bloody ha. Seriously, Dan I’m freezing my nuts off here. What do you want?”

  “I am being bloody serious. Can you do her a quick deal or not?”

  “Depends what type of car it is, and how much she reckons she wants. How did you get a bird with a car?”

  “She’s a bit older than me.”

  “How much older? Have you been sneaking into grab a granny night?”

  “Something like that. Can I drop it off to you?”

  “Not tonight, I’m on a promise. What’s the big rush anyway?”

  “None of your business.”

  “Well it must be . . . have you got her pregnant?”

  “She’s married.”

  “WHAT? I only moved out a few months ago. What’s happened to you?”

  “Please, I’m asking you a favour, yes, or no?”

  “How much does she want?”

  “Hang on.” Covering the receiver, he looked at Chris. “How much is it worth?”

  “No idea. Tell him to make an offer.” He smiled encouragement as Simmons drew in a breath.

  “She said she’d take a reasonable offer. She’ll drop it off outside your place tonight. Shall I drop the keys to you?”

  “No, not if you’re over that side of town. Stick them in the exhaust, tell her to leave the logbook in the glove compartment.”

  “Will do. Thanks mate, I owe you one.”

  “You do, and I’ll make you pay. Don’t worry about that. How’s Mum?”

  “Haven’t got time now, speak tomorrow when you’ve had a look. Cheers. Bye.”

  “Hang on a minute. What type of car is it?”

  “Triumph two thousand. Red. Got to go. Bye.” His shaking hand dropped the receiver into the cradle. He held it there as though that might stop his hand from shaking.

  Stepping forward, Chris patted his shoulder. “Are you sure you can do this, son? It’s not too late to change your mind. Once we move her, there’s no going back.”

  “I’m not going to court, apart from anything else, my mother would kill me. Oh God I can’t believe this is happening. All I wanted to do was find out Henry was okay.” Blinking rapidly, he pulled back his shoulders. “You need to leave the logbook in the car.”

  “No problem. Are you sure, Simmons? Really sure?”

  “Yes! I told you. How are you going to get her to the well?”

  “In the car.” Chris clicked his fingers. “That’s what we’ll do, I’m right in assuming you can drive aren’t I?”

  “Yep. Well I’ve passed my test, I haven’t got a car.”

  “How did you get here?”

  “Walked. I was going to come on the bike, but I had a puncture.”

  “Good. Here’s what I think. We’ll put the logbook and Chelly in her car, and then I’ll drive it to the well. You follow in my car and keep a lookout while I do the deed. Then I’ll follow you to your brother’s place, drop the car off, and I’ll give you a lift home. Can you do that?”

  “We don’t have any choice, do we?” Simmons groaned. “Can we get on with it, please. I don’t want to chicken out, but I think I might puke any minute.”

  “Go and have a drink of water, while I get the logbook from the study.”

  “I don’t need a drink. I need to get on with it.”

  “Right.”

  Simmons followed him into the sitting room, both of them avoiding looking at Chelly. Disappearing into the study for a moment, Chris reappeared holding the logbook aloft.

  He looked Simons in the eye. “We have one chance of getting this right. When we leave here, we close that door, and I won’t come back until sometime on Monday.”

  “You need to get rid of that then.” Simmons pointed to the broken glass.

  “Good thinking, no, leave that one there. Chelly wouldn’t have cleaned before she left, but you’re right that one looks suspicious.

  Having cleaned up the broken glass and made sure the rest of the house was locked, Chris took hold of Simmons’ shoulders.

  “I’ll carry her out to the car. There’s a chance we might bump into someone because there’s a party in the street somewhere. If we do and an explanation is needed, we’ll simply say Chelly took a fall and we’re taking her to hospital.”

  “But what . . .”

  “If that happens, that’s what we’ll do. After all, it is what happened. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.” Breathing shallow breaths in and out rapidly, Simmons wasn’t convinced he wouldn’t throw up. Placing his hands on his knees he held his head upside down.

  “Simmons, you really don’t look well. Shall we—”

  “Don’t say change the plan, I’m ready. I was preparing myself.”

  Patting his pocket, Chris checked his own keys were in his pocket, and held out the keys to the Triumph. “Take these. Open the door when I reach it. Close it behind you and then run ahead and open the back door of the Triumph. I’ll put Chelly in, and then you can follow me in the estate.”

  “Ah shit, I forgot you had that massive car. I’m not sure I’ll be able to drive that. I’ve only driven once or twice since I passed my test.”

  “It’s exactly the same as any other car. You won’t need to park it or anything. Come on man, pull those shoulders back again.”

  Simmons followed Chris back to the sitting room. Watching as he mumbled an apology to Chelly and placed his hand behind her neck before heaving her into a sitting position, slipping his arm behind her back. With a little difficulty, he lifted her knees and slid his other hand through. Taking a deep breath he counted to three and tried to lift her. Her backside didn’t even leave the floor and he lost her legs.

  “Bend at the knees before you take the weight,” Simmons instructed.

  “I did,” snapped Chris, embarrassed at the amount of naked flesh now exposed on Chelly. He reorganised her robe before his next attempt.

  After the third failed attempt, Simmons was pacing, willing himself not to criticise Chris’s attempts. When the fourth failed he pushed Chris out of the way. “Here, get out of the way, or we’ll be here all night.”

  Handing over the car
keys, he positioned himself in a squat and pulled Chelly’s upper body into a hug, scooping up her legs with his other hand, he lifted his body on to his toes several times before pushing himself to his feet with a grunt.

  Chelly’s robe had fallen open again, and he waited while Chris rearranged it. “Come on, quickly. She’s . . .”

  “A dead weight? Yes, I know.” Chris gave him a pat on the arm. “I’ll unlock the car, you put her in. If anyone appears, I’ll do the talking, don’t worry.” He could see the tears building in Simmons’ eyes, and was concerned the boy would break down if they were confronted.

  In the event, the body of Chelly was placed on the back seat of her car without incident, her robe rearranged yet again, and the logbook placed in the glove compartment.

  Chris held out the keys to his Ford estate. “It’s on the corner, I’ll drive slowly and wait at the bottom of the hill for you. I . . . what the hell was that?”

  A loud crunch drew their attention further along the road. A car door slammed, and someone started shouting. It appeared there had been a minor accident.

  “Bugger that’s right by my car. I’m not risking hanging around. You follow on when you can get it out.”

  “No, I need to get out of here, I can’t, I can’t.” With a quick movement of his arm, he snatched the car keys. “I’ll do this bit, you follow when you can, you can’t lift her anyway.” Tossing Chris’s own keys back, he got into the car.

  Chris didn’t argue. He wanted to but was already concerned that the accident would be causing too much attention. He stepped back against the hedge, hoping he wouldn’t be spotted by anyone being nosy.

  In the car, Simmons hand shook as he inserted the key into the ignition.

  “Check it’s in neutral. Start the engine. Check your mirrors.” He gave a shout as someone tapped on the window, and the door opened.

  “Lights. Put the lights on.” Closing the door quietly, Chris stepped back into the shade of the hedge.

  Simmons found the right switch and the car in front was suddenly illuminated. “Shit, that’s too close. There’s no way I’m going to miss it.” Still talking to himself, he put the car into gear and turning the wheel frantically, slowly released the clutch. To his amazement the car didn’t stall, a common problem when he was learning, and he cleared the bumper of the car in front with ease. Without looking back, he headed up the road. His gear changes weren’t perfect, and his steering a little erratic when having to avoid obstacles like parked cars. But he’d done it. His shoulders heaved, he gasped for breath and he blinked away the tears as they clouded his vision.

  Chapter Thirty Five

  Bridget finished reading a little earlier than Margaret and got to her feet. Walking to Angie, she held out her arms, and pulled her into a hug. “It’s done, darling. Although I wasn’t expecting that.”

  “Nor me. I knew something was coming but not that. Bugger.”

  “Bring back the wine, Angie. We need to talk.” Tidying the papers into a neat pile, Margaret tapped them. “We need to discuss how to deal with this.”

  Doing as she was asked Angie found the others deep in conversation about how much of what they knew to reveal.

  “I know I missed some of this conversation, but it’s not for us to decide, we need to tell Frank and he can do what’s necessary. The question is only when we do that. Now or in the morning?”

  “We can’t tell Frank. Dan Simmons had no malice aforethought, he was even trying to ignore that trollop’s advances, it wouldn’t be fair, Angie. Mother agrees with me, don’t you?”

  “Yes, inasmuch as Dan Simmons doesn’t deserve to have his life turned upside down over this. Chelly Rogers got what she deserved, but I think you’re underestimating Frank, darling. He’s a good, sound man who will make the right decision.”

  Lifting one of the glasses, Bridget took a sip. “We had a deal with him. He’d give us access to the files, and we’d find out, if we could, what happened. I’m not going back on that. It’s not right.”

  “Working on that basis Dan Simmons will probably be tried for manslaughter, disposing of a body, there must be a law about that, and perverting the course of justice. That is what’s right and proper and the law of the land. In this instance, you and the law are wrong, Mother.”

  “That’s what I’m trying to say. I don’t think Frank will do that. He’ll know like we do that there is nothing to be gained from it, except tearing another family apart. You mark my words, he’ll make the right decision, darling.” Bridget sounded confident.

  “Right for Dan Simmons and Chris Rogers, perhaps. But what about him? I think I agree with Mum.” Flopping onto the couch, Angie stretched her hands above her head. “If he makes what we consider to be the right decision, then he’s compromising himself. He’d be placing himself as judge and jury which won’t sit comfortably with him. That’s not fair.”

  “Are you suggesting we lie to him?” Shocked, Bridget waved her finger. “That is not going to happen. I’m sorry girls, but I simply can’t do it.”

  Jumping to her feet, Margaret clapped her hands. “No lying necessary. Just a little amendment to this.” Snatching up the final chapter, she waved it at them. “Take out Dan Simmons name, insert lover or similar, and remove all references of conversations about Henry. Do you see?”

  “Not really, Mum. Why did he get mad enough to charge at Chelly causing her to fall?”

  “Who knows, perhaps you need to add just a little something that Chelly says which would make him mad. Come on, Angie, it’s what you do.”

  “I can do it easily enough but wouldn’t that be lying? That’s not a simple omission, that’s making it up to suit our own ends.”

  “And what’s wrong with that? Who gets hurt? No one. Who is spared? Everyone! I didn’t agree to get into this to uphold the law. Not that I intend breaking it, mind you. No, I agreed because we would be helping people. Those that disappeared, and those they left behind. If that means a bad person goes to jail, then fantastic, but if it means we’re going to condemn good people, I want no part of it.” Spinning to face her mother, she put her hands on her hips. “I told you I wanted no part in this. This bloody thing is not a gift, not if we’re wrecking more lives.”

  Remaining silent for a moment, Bridget agreed. “You’re right. We won’t phone Frank until the morning, and when we do, we’ll say she had a lover there, a young one. That’s almost true, if she’d had her way he would have been. The fall was accidental as Chris Rogers said it was, also true. The young lover took her body away in her car, true. He disposed of her body, true. We won’t mention that Chris Rogers was the one following him to the car sales place.”

  “Perfect. Thank you, Mother.”

  They both looked at Angie. “I’m happy to go with that. If he asks why Chris Rogers didn’t say that, we’ll simply say he didn’t want to ruin another life, and as he’s reaching the end of his own, he thought it was for the best. I’ll pop over and see him tomorrow. Before we speak to Frank.”

  “Splendid.”

  * * *

  It took the best part of two days to recover Chelly Roger’s remains. Out of respect, although the wall surrounding it was rebuilt, the well itself was filled in.

  Henry’s remains revealed a fractured skull, multiple breaks to his legs and one arm, and severe damage to several vertebrae.

  His funeral took place two weeks later. The Bearing women slid into one of the rear pews and dabbed away tears as Dan Simmons gave a heartfelt eulogy.

  When they left the church, Simmons hurried to catch them. He took hold of Angie’s arm.

  “Mr Rogers told me you know, thank you.”

  “You did nothing wrong, Dan. Not really.”

  “I know, but it’s been hard. I’m glad they’ve both been found. Bloody shame, bloody mess.” Screwing his eyes shut, he looked away. “Damn, I promised I wasn’t going to cry.”

  “Walk with us a little way, compose yourself.” Bridget took his arm. “What were your thoughts when
you met young Henry?”

  Dan’s laugh was deep and it echoed around the graveyard. “I nearly fainted. I think I stood there with my mouth open for at least ten minutes. Are you coming to the wake?”

  “No, we’ll leave you and the family to it.” Angie smiled. “Here comes Henry.”

  “Bloody hell, it’s like he’s charging up that pitch towards me. He’s so much like my Henry, it’s scary.”

  “I love it that so many of you call him ‘my Henry’. What better accolade could anyone have?”

  Margaret stopped speaking as young Henry skidded to a halt. “Nan says you weren’t to go without her speaking to you. She’s just having a word with the vicar.” He turned to Simmons. “You’re not going, are you? I want you to tell me all about him,” he grinned, “especially the bad bits. He can’t have been that perfect, it’s too much to live up to.”

  Placing his arm on Henry’s shoulder, Simmons smiled. “I’ll do my best, but he was pretty perfect. Not in the dot the I’s and cross the T’s way, but the best mate a bloke could have. He’d have loved you.”

  “How could he not?” Henry laughed at the raised eyebrows. “What? I can only speak the truth. Have you seen the memorial stone? They can’t lay it for a couple of weeks. I reckon it’s pretty cool.”

  Pulling his phone from his pocket he scrolled to the photograph he wanted. “Here it is.”

  The phone was passed around as they read the words etched in gold into the shiny black granite.

  Henry Cooksey

  Beloved son of Annette & Gerry

  The best husband, father, and grandfather we never had.

  Holy Macaroni, Batman, you left too soon.

  Wait for me, my love lives on.

  Lorna x

  At the bottom there was a small Batman logo.

  Grinning, Angie clapped her hands. “Perfect, simply perfect. Don’t you think, Dan?”

  Dan was dabbing his eyes, “Bloody hell, here I go again. Yes, it’s perfect. Wherever he is, he’s going to be laughing.” He tapped young Henry on the shoulder with his fist. “Did I tell you he was always laughing? He had such a weird laugh, started really low in his belly, but ended in a sort of squeak. You couldn’t help but smile. Oh, there’s the wife. I’d better go and make sure she’s okay.”