Part Thirteen: Triad

Twenty-Four Years Ago

Frantic muffled squealing comes from the…. package.… which lies twitching on the ground.

“Shut him up, Bech,” a voice hisses, “before he wakes the whole fucking neighbourhood.” The tone is cultured but cold and comes from a tall man, with fair but silvering hair. His features sharp and well defined, he would be handsome were it not for the twist of cruelty to his mouth.

“I don't think there's anyone around at this time, sir.” Nonetheless, a boot swings and with a sickening crunch, contacts what might be the head end of a human figure, tightly wrapped in sacking, bound by heavy chains.

“Not so hard. I want him conscious. We don’t want him to miss the experience, do we? And get another loop around him. We don’t want him floating either.”

The tall man hunkers down beside the whimpering, rag-bound body as Bech and another assistant coil another couple of circles of chain around the body, lifting and moving with ungentle hands.

“You see, Frank. This is the result when you let down your friends. Bad things happen.”

Another muffled, perhaps gagged, cry emerges; for mercy maybe, a plea for clemency. It’s hard to tell. There are words in there, but not intelligible.

The tall figure stands, straightening up and stretching, his smile glinting in the poor lighting of the old bridge. But the expression stops at his mouth, not reaching the eyes.

“That's enough, Bech. He'll not float with that lot around him. Bye, Frank. I'm going to miss you, but not very much. And don’t worry, when I catch up with Michelle, I’ll tell her all about it.”

He prods at the sacking with the toe of a shoe. “Oh, and one last thing. That daughter of yours is going to have a very special upbringing. I’m hoping she grows up taking after her mother. I have so many plans for her. I thought you’d like to know that before we say goodbye.”

The figure jerks his head at the two men by him. “Over he goes.”

The screaming from inside the sacking rises to a wailing shriek, but regardless, the body is lifted up and over the bridge railings, then pushed.

There is a receding howl and a splash.

The tall man brushes his palms together. His tone brisk and cheerful, “Well, that's that sorted out. Now let's go and deal with her.”

*****

James

The sound is deafening. Amid hammering and banging, the rumble of heavy machinery and the clatter of heavy work-boots on wooden planking, Michael stands arguing with a joiner over some detail in the plans flattened out on the table.

He finishes the conversation by slapping his hand down on the plan and jabbing a finger at the workman. The joiner purses his lips and nods, then walks off.

There is a tug at his sleeve: another man, this one in a blue boiler suit shouting something close to his face. Michael nods and follows the man.

He looks stressed….

There’s a kettle on the end of a reel of cable, and after some searching, I find a jar of coffee, then milk too. A quick sniff at the milk and I jerk my head back.

He can have it black this time.

I prefer mine black anyway, so I make two mugs and then go to find him.

He’s in the next room, actually the hall…. What will one day be the hall…. directing the work: tarpaulins being hauled into position where there ought to be a roof. Just now, there is only the open sky. A good part of the noise is coming from here, where a man with a chainsaw is taking down a tree which has lodged its roots through the floor inside, but then leans outside through a window.

Right now, the difference between inside and outside is moot.

I wait until Michael breaks away to nudge him at the elbow and offer the mug.

He nods, starts to speak, then with hands over his ears shakes his head, jerking it across to the door.

Out in the fresh air, it’s cold but sunny. And it’s quiet.

Michael slaps the side of his head. “Jeez, that’s better. My ears are ringing.”

“You should be wearing protection against that level of noise.”

He nods, sucking at his coffee.

“How’s it going?”

Wiping sweat from his forehead, he grins, looking much more his usual self. “It's going well, actually. I know it doesn’t look like it yet….” His smile fades. “I just wish Charlotte was here to see it.”

“You missing her?”

“Yeah... You?”

“Of course I am.”

“It's too long, isn't it? What, five, six weeks now?” He cradles the warm mug in his hands, looking down over what would be a spectacular mountain view, were it not shrouded in mist. “You think about her much?”

“Most of the time….” Suddenly my own coffee mug seems very interesting, absorbing my attention. “Best to keep busy.”

“I talk with her every day over the messaging apps…” He rocks his hand… “I know it’s sort-of face-to-face, but it's not the same, is it? I can see her, and talk with her but I want to be able to touch her.”

This is a man who used to be the ‘fuck and never look back’ kind….

…. And I suppose I wasn’t so different…

“We could ask her to come visit,” I suggest. “One weekend?”

He waves his hand around at the scaffolding, the stacked bricks, pallets of sand and cement, tarped over against the rain, the sodden ground overlaid with planking walkways. As he is about to speak, there is the groan and Crack of failing timber, and we both move smartly back as the tree from the indoors surrenders to the chainsaw, collapsing out through the window.

Michael spreads his hands. “Ask her back to this? It's in no state for visitors. It's not pretty. It's not safe. And it's certainly not fit for my future wife.”

“Think it'll be okay for her for Christmas?”

A cloud passes over his face. His voice tense, “I'm doing my best, but I've only got one pair of hands. There’s some stuff needs attention that I’d not expected.”

“Isn’t there always…. What stuff?”

“There’s a water supply, but it’s old lead piping, so that all has to be replaced. And while I thought we could get by with the electricity for a while, rats have been at the wiring, so the whole lot has to come out. We’re running on cables from the hotel. It’s going to take longer than I’d hoped.”

“You need some more workers on it.”

“Ben’s coming by next week. He said he could give me a couple of days.”

“It needs more than just your brother to help.”

“Well, the budget only stretches so far. I need to get the hotel open again, bring in some cash.”

I’ll give it another try….

“Michael… you know I'd be happy to help with the finances.”

“No!” His face closes over. “We discussed this before. This is from me to her.”

Stubborn bastard….

“I'll be paying for my part of the building work of course. You wouldn't be digging out the cellars if it weren't for me.”

He softens a bit. “True, but we're not ready for that yet. I need to get the groundwork outside done first.”

“That doesn't mean we couldn't bring the payments forward. Or if you prefer, I'll hire the contractors and pay them directly.”

He stares at the ground, mouth set.

Don’t push your luck….

…. Change the subject….

“How are you coping?”

“I could do with about another ten hours in a day, but apart from that….”

“I meant about her.”

He glances sidelong at me. “Well, I’ve got balls the size of grapefruit if that’s what you mean.”

I chuckle. At least we’re on more comfortable ground with this conversation. “It wasn’t quite what I meant.” I sip my coffee. “Um, you er…. having trouble?”

He stares at the sky. “Mmmm, yes. It’s okay during the day when I’m working, but at night when I start thinking about her….”

“You’ve lasted this long before, when she left after that first week. We both did.”

“Yes, but then I was feeling depressed because I thought we wouldn’t see her again. Now I’m building the home for my future wife…. and I want….” He looks at the ground. “Fuck, I’m not cut out for celibacy.”

Nor me….

“Perhaps we should visit her and find out how she’s doing?”

“Perhaps we should.” His words are the right words, but there’s something in his tone.

What’s wrong?

“Something bothering you?”

He scuffs at the ground. “It’s just, well….” He stutters then falls silent.

“Come on, spit it out.”

“Well…. she’s not exactly cut out for celibacy either is she? And there she is, surrounded by men, all her own age….”

“Michael, I don’t believe that for a minute. But even if it were true, you and I have taken her playing many times. It never bothered you then, not so long at it didn’t get out of hand anyway.”

“If you’ll recall, it did bother me, even then, and this is different. She’s out there, by herself and….”

…. For the first time in your life, you care about what a woman does when she’s not with you….

“It’s her life, Michael. But I still think you’re wrong. Yes, you’re right, she’s horny as they come, but I believe she’s horny for us, not just for sex.”

He looks up, almost meeting me in the eye. “You really think that?”

“Yes, I really think that, and anyway, where’s this coming from? Jealousy?”

“No… not jealousy… I just don’t want her to…. drift away…. I don’t want to lose her. James, I’m scared of losing her.”

…. This is what friends talk to each other for….

“Alright, let’s deal with this. Tomorrow’s Friday. We go over there. We take the whole weekend if we need to and we find out how she is.”

“Surprise her you mean?”

“Yes, surprise her. We don’t tell her we’re coming, and we find out what she’s doing.”

“I feel like I’m spying on her.”

…. Ah… Jeez….

“You don’t get it both ways. Either you want to know what she’s doing, or you don’t.”

“And if we find out that she’s got someone else there?”

“Then it’s bad news, but at least you know and you’re not letting your imagination feed you the worst. But Michael, I think you’re quite simply wrong. You’re keeping yourself for her. What makes you think she’s not keeping herself for you? For us?”

“James, it is plain fact that she has always loved you more than me.”

…. That’s why he’s so set on being the one to give her the house….

It’s not pig-headed stubbornness or pride….

…. It’s insecurity….

“I don't believe that's so. I think she loves you differently to me. I’m her Dom. You’re her Lover. And I firmly believe that is what we’ll find when we visit her.”

“You think? Really?”

“Yes. And tomorrow we’ll go and prove it to you.”

*****