by Adam Carter
He thought of his wife again, as he often did at these times. She had no clue at all as to what was going on with him and Liz. It would destroy her if she found out, he knew that, and he did love her deeply. Why he was messing around with a girl young enough to be his daughter who cavorted before him in a furry thong all day long he could not say.
Perhaps it was because she was a girl young enough to be his daughter who cavorted before him in a furry thong all day long.
Shaking his head and wishing he understood at least some of what was going on, Corsac got off his train and walked the rest of the way home. It was early evening and there was a slight chill but no rain. There was the threat of snow in the air, but it was December, which made it highly unlikely that it would actually snow anytime soon. Leave that for Easter, he thought to himself.
He got thinking about Christmas, about what he would do regarding splitting his time. He would have dinner with Marie, Sam and Louise, like he did every year. He enjoyed Christmas, it was his favourite time of the year. A time where all the family could get together and talk about nothing, laugh about old times and think nothing of the future.
But now he had another element to his life and he knew he would have to spend equal time with Liz. He shouldn’t have to, she shouldn’t expect him to, but Liz was demanding. Liz was demanding and he was weak and he knew he would succumb to whatever she had planned. But one thing he was certain of, one thing he knew he would be putting his foot down regarding.
He would not miss his family dinner for anything.
Then there was the show. The Christmas special, it had been decided, would go out live. It would revert to a four o’clock time slot and go out live. That suited him fine, since it meant he would be finished by five and be home by half past. Sam had already offered to give him a lift, since she was going to be at the studio to watch the live recording. There was even a chance Louise was going to come, too, so she could be in the audience. Marie had thus far not expressed a wish to be there, nor did Corsac want her there. It was a terrible thing to have to think, but under no circumstances did he want Marie and Liz meeting. He knew Liz would not reveal anything, but she would flirt with him and she would drop little hints. It was the way Liz was: conniving and evil. Still, evil she may have been, but Corsac couldn’t seem to say no to her.
Marie was happy to see him and he felt instantly ashamed that he had almost phoned to tell her he would be spending the night away. Marie was the rock in his life, the one thing he could always count on, and he had abused her good-natured character. He felt ashamed, yet knew he would not stop seeing Liz.
He just couldn’t.
They spent the evening working through some of Marie’s paintings. She had seen an increase in sales of late, perhaps because of her husband’s success, perhaps not. He liked to believe she had made it on her own, for she was a skilled painter and had been selling her pieces for several years now. That night together they worked through which pieces she would sell, selecting not only what they thought were the best but which would appeal to the market she was selling to. A local hospital had shown interest in her paintings and she could not sell them scenes of battle or depression. Flowers and skies, gardens and horizons. Happy images and bright colours. Things to make the guests cheery and the patients not feel like topping themselves.
Marie had always been good at working out what other people wanted. She was a problem solver. She was someone who would pick at a problem which was all someone else’s until she made it go away entirely. And she enjoyed her work. Not only the painting aspect, but the selling as well, and the feeling that her images were moving on to others who would appreciate them. Marie was very much someone who cared what others thought, someone who would share in another’s pain or joy. Corsac had been with her for many years now and as they sat there working together, he remembered all at once why he had married her to begin with.
“What?” she asked, stifling a laugh.
“What? Sorry?”
“You’ve been sitting there staring at me with a great big smile on your face, Jack. Although I’m sure you’re not seeing me. Lost in space or something.”
“Was just thinking.”
“About what?”
“Nothing.”
“No, what?”
He paused. “How special you are.”
Here she laughed; then realised he was being serious. “Well, not that it’s not nice of you to say so,” she stopped a moment to check she’d said that the way she had meant it, “but we’ve work to do. These paintings don’t choose themselves, mister.”
“Mister?”
“Huh?”
Corsac shook his head. “Sorry, caught me off-guard there.”
“I did?” Marie asked, confused.
Mr J, Corsac was thinking, and felt terrible because of it. “This one’s nice,” he said, selecting a painting entirely at random.
Marie laughed. “You’re just saying that. You picked it entirely at random.”
“True. But it’s still nice.”
Marie eyed him curiously, her smile wry. “You know, Jack, I have no idea what you’re up to but that’s OK. You don’t have to tell me.”
“Don’t have to tell you what?”
“Whatever it is you’re trying to hide.”
“And who says I’m trying to hide anything?”
“Don’t worry about it. Whatever it is, Jack, I’m sure I don’t mind. How about this one? I like the waterfall, it might be soothing to the patients.”
Corsac spent the remainder of the evening nodding and shaking his head, making all the right noises in all the right (and sometimes wrong) places. His mind was elsewhere, but not upon Liz. His mind was upon his past, when he had first married, how happy he had been back then. He had a good marriage, he always had. He was playing with it and knew he was a fool. But a fool who knows and continues regardless is the biggest fool of all.
Corsac did not think of Liz the remainder of the night. Instead he focused his thoughts, his attentions, upon the one woman who really did mean the world to him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
There were two weeks until Christmas. Uncle Pete had been in contact with Starke several times over the past few months, in each instance informing him he had made no progress and that there was no progress to be made. Starke could not understand how he could say that, yet he trusted Uncle Pete and chose to respect his findings. It turned out the girl with the Uzi may not have been such an integral part of the scheme against him after all. Starke still believed she was involved somehow, but Uncle Pete thought otherwise.
Starke had continued to watch the show, Deadlock, and could see Liz was distressed. He would often catch brief glances between Liz and the host, Corsac, which told Starke there was something going on between them. Clearly Liz wanted to escape but this Corsac character had some hold over her. Perhaps he had threatened her, perhaps he had threatened Starke. That would certainly explain why she had left him so suddenly to go on that show. Had she left to go on the show? Starke was convinced she had, so quickly had her contract been signed after she had walked out on him.
He would have brought all of this up with Uncle Pete, but Uncle Pete didn’t think there was anything to it. He would tell Starke to forget about Liz, that he was better off without her, and so Starke stopped asking him his opinion. There was no sense in seeking a wrong opinion when his own was doing so well for him.
“The only way,” his friend the grizzly bear was saying one day, “you’re ever going to find out for sure is to ask her. You do know that, right?”
“Sure I know that,” Starke replied. “But I got so many problems here at the moment.”
“Like? The mob’s been taken care of. Uncle Pete’s sorted that – don’t know how, don’t want to know. You got no problems here, Rich.”
“I have the shop. I need to make money, I can’t just close shop while I sort this out.”
“Sure you can,” the bear said. “Heck, I’ll mind the stor
e for you.”
Starke was surprised. “You will?”
“Sure.”
“Gosh, that’s mighty kind of you.”
The bear shrugged. “It’s what bears are for.”
The show was on the TV at that moment and a plan began to form in the mind of Richard Starke. He smiled strangely to himself and turned his head back to the bear to tell him he was onto an idea, but the bear had gone. Starke had no idea where he’d gone: he just tended to do that from time to time. When he was needed, he’d come back. Until then, Starke knew what he had to do. He had to expose this man Corsac; and he knew just how he would do it.
*
Louise couldn’t get tickets but Sam pulled a few strings and got her a seat. It was a good seat too, considering how in demand the tickets for the live Christmas show were. Louise gave her big sister a hug as she was given the ticket, happier than she had been in a long time. Sam was glad to make her sister happy after everything she had been through with Steve: especially at this time of year. There were only a handful of days left now until Christmas Day and Louise was still single. Single but never alone so long as she had her family, Sam had told her. Sam had Derek and would be spending a lot of the time with him, but there was the traditional Corsac family gathering at the dinner table and they each had instructions never to miss one. Sam was twenty-seven years old and had missed three in her whole life. Louise had missed none. This year would be perfect. Their father would come back from his show, driven by Sam and with Louise in the car as well. They would get back home and help their mother with the roast and they would all sit around laughing and chatting about their day. Their father would likely be happier this Christmas than any for a long time, since he was now doing work he loved, and it would be a truly happy occasion.
Sam was immensely looking forward to Christmas Day. Right now, though, she was out with Louise and their mother. They were shopping for last-minute presents. Sam had most of hers, she had never been too big on buying gifts, but Louise and their mother had left everything until late and were lucky enough to have hit the sales head-on. They were presently in a clothes shop – Sam forgot the name – looking for something for their father. Sam had never been one for shopping. She was into her fashion, always had been, but that was something that came naturally to her. She did not walk into a shop and try on several dozen items before she had found a complete outfit. Instead she knew what she was looking for, or at least knew it once she saw it. She also used catalogues for the most part, claiming she didn’t have the time to go proper clothes shopping down the high street. She was a busy woman and would quite often send someone from her studio (always a woman) to fetch something for her. (She had sent Derek one time, but that had ended up a nightmare.)
Right now she was with her family because that was where she felt she needed to be. Besides, it had been a long time since Sam had just spent time with her sister and her mother, doing simple everyday activities.
“What do you think about this one, love?” Marie was asking, holding a red top against her chest and straining to see herself in the mirror.
Sam screwed up her face without even knowing it. “Bit low-cut. Besides, I thought we were looking for something for Dad?”
“We are. Don’t see why we can’t pamper ourselves a little at the same time, though.”
Sam had never pampered herself. She had always been careful of her appearance but at the same time didn’t overly care about it. She was not one who would ever visit a health spa, for instance, but she did tend to look good without having to make too much of an effort. And not caring too much what other people thought of her meant she always felt good about herself, which in turn was reflected by how others then perceived her.
Still, she didn’t like that top.
“What about a pipe?” Louise was saying. “We could get Dad a pipe and some slippers.”
“Your father doesn’t smoke, Lou,” Marie reminded her.
“You never know, he may in secret. Besides, old men always smoke pipes. It’s tradition. And he’s always on about how old he is.”
“Not lately he’s not,” Sam said. “He has a spring in his step now. Must be the show, it’s made him years younger.”
“He’s certainly happier now,” Marie said. “Thanks for finding him that, Sam. It was just what he needed.”
“It’s my job,” Sam shrugged. “And if you can’t help out your family, what’s the point of it all? We could certainly go for the slippers, though.”
“Some grey/brown chequered slippers,” Louise said. “Something really old-manish.”
“He won’t want any slippers,” Sam said with a sigh. “Easy present, I know, but he wouldn’t want them. He’s already got a decent pair and you know Dad. Doesn’t like to overspend on anything that’s not vitally needed.”
“That was when he had to be careful with money, surely,” Louise said.
“Still like that,” Marie said. “Or at least I think he is.”
“You think he is?” Sam asked.
“Well, you know, he’s away a lot now. What with the recording and everything.”
“Ah,” Sam said. “Must be better now, though. I mean, he used to be out all night at those clubs of his. Now he works during the day, like any normal person. Ooh, this is nice.” She held up a green top beside her mother which sported a much less prominent drop at the neck.
Louise laughed. “Like you don’t work at night, Sam.”
“Never said I was normal.”
Their mother took the top and looked at it against herself in the mirror. “Wish it was just the day-shoots, but it’s the evening ones that get me.”
“There are no evening shoots,” Sam said.
“Sure there are. Two, sometimes three times a week he has to stay behind to reshoot. Says it’s mainly about adding in some of his comedy lines or something.”
Louise was busily finding something else for their mother to wear, but Sam was frowning. “That’s odd. I’m sure they don’t work into the evening, or at least not often.”
“They film several shows a day,” Marie told her. “They’re bound to overrun. Maybe they just keep a skeleton staff on for the reshoots. I don’t know, I never understood your father’s work, dear.”
“Maybe we could get him something from the gadget shop,” Louise was thinking aloud. “You know, something decent, stupid but useful.”
“Like a lava lamp?” Sam asked.
“No, I said useful.”
“We could always look,” said their mother. “It wouldn’t hurt, he’s always been into his gadgets has your father.”
“Has he taken up any new hobbies since he started Deadlock?” Louise asked.
“Hobbies?”
“I thought with his newfound youthful vigour he might have decided to take up model-making or abseiling or something.”
“Not that I’m aware of, no.”
“Abseiling?” Sam laughed.
“To be honest,” Marie said, “I really don’t see that much of him any more. He’s happier now, I know that much, but he works so much I hardly get to spend any real time with him. And when I do he’s always so tired. Goes straight to bed a lot of the time.”
“So no hobbies, then?” Louise asked, disappointed.
Marie shook her head. “Not that I’m aware. He doesn’t talk all that much any more actually. Just goes to bed a lot.”
“But he’s a lot happier?” Sam asked, confused.
“Oh, he’s happier all right,” Marie said. “I can tell that much. Just ... I don’t know. Not around me, I guess.”
Sam’s eyes were narrowing in thought. “Let’s go to that gadget shop,” she said after a moment. “Maybe we’ll find something there.” Her mind, however, was no longer upon buying gifts. There was something else preying upon her and she intended to get to the bottom of it.
The gadget shop was not especially packed and they were able to locate a few items their father may have enjoyed. They ignored all the jokey presents
of an erotic nature which were almost exclusively reserved for secret Santa presents at work and found a few items of interest. They found a mouse pad which doubled as a calculator, then realised it also had an FM radio attached to it as well as a clock. But Jack Corsac didn’t even own a computer. They found several tearaway calendars, some revealing a joke every day (which they thought a tad trite for a comedian), or a sudoku or a Bush-ism. It was strange to think anything said by the President of the United States was considered fair material for joke books, considering the man was in charge of an entire country. Someone messing up his lines while meeting foreign dignitaries may have been good for a laugh, but it was hardly comedy in the long run.
Louise found a multi-purpose tool much like a penknife, but it was of a garden variety. It had a miniature trowel, spade, pitchfork and all sorts of other useful things, but all down in scale. They debated it for a while before deciding it would just be something their father would like at the time but never use. Just like that wrench set they’d got him a few years earlier.
“Still, he’d like it,” Louise said. “It’s cheap enough to get him if he’s going to like it, even if he never uses it.”
“You can if you like,” Marie said. “Don’t much see the point though.”
“Maybe we could get him something to help him at work,” Sam suggested. “I mean, if he works late all the time, he may need something there.”
“Like a Thermos, you mean?” Marie asked.
“Or a watch,” Sam said.
There was something on her mind and both Marie and Louise could sense it now. They both looked at her, although neither of them was saying anything.