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Blood Curse

by Susan Hern.

First edition Copyright © December 2011 by Susan Hern. This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations are entirely coincidental. All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author.

Snippets from inside the book.

* A smudge of barely perceptible light altered its shape on the edge of my vision. Something moved, beyond the open sliding doors. Bright, overhead lights bathed the patio, but by the very nature of contrast, the dark was pitch from the point where brilliance began to fade out into the night. The silence was absolute, and that's what unnerved me, no answer. My heart started to pound in my ears, and do somersaults in my chest, I heard myself inhale, sharp and involuntarily, terror spread through my veins like a speeding express train, I was convinced that whoever was out there would be able to hear my heart, and smell my fear.

* I looked up casually from the instrument in front of me, to the far side of the room. Peering, intensely through the window was a strikingly beautiful young girl, she could not have been more than fifteen or sixteen. Her face was heart-shaped, framed by wild blonde curls, that hung to her waist, enormous, violet eyes looked in questioningly. Something in her features or just in the aura about her, lacked substantialness, she looked ethereal. I lifted my hand in greeting to her, rather than calling out, since I was still engaged in conversation. She did not react to me at all, but continued to stare in, I covered the mouth-piece and called out a 'hello', nothing registered. Then while I watched, her expression changed, fear scrunched up her lovely face, making it look as if she were about to cry out. I was very familiar with terror, and it's imprint was all over her. *

end Snippets.

Blood Curse.

How terrifying might it be to discover you were truly psychic. How horrifying might your life become. This is the story of a wicked haunting.

He felt that his whole life was some kind of dream and he sometimes wondered whose it was and whether they were enjoying it. Douglas Adams "The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy"

Part one.

Now.

* Chapter 1. *

Weak sunlight splashed through the French doors to polish the wooden floor to a reflective shine. It was a beautiful old house, stately, proud, all blonde wood and beech rafters.

I knew I wouldn't be able to live in it, even though I had inherited it. My aunt on my mother's side had fallen down the spiral stairs and snapped her spine, they said she had died instantly. I hadn't known her very well, but, I knew I would feel uncomfortable in the house, somehow, I would constantly hear the sound of her falling, no matter which room I was in.

The entrance was a lattice pattern of light. The white walls took on a honey coloured hue from the glow playing a game of hide and seek off the gleaming floor. Gigantic wooden framed, picture windows, displayed a well tended established garden. a theme of white on lawn under tall, leafy, evergreen tress gave the exterior a lush look that spoke of secret hideaways which would be a delight to explore.

At the very bottom of the garden, only just visible through the dense green, ran a slow steam under a shaded canopy. A small boat house with a strange conical design, jutted out on a built-up platform over the clear water. I stood for a moment imagining sun splashed heady days of fun, small sail boats cruising a good time on the inviting silver surface.

I investigated slowly, working through the labyrinth of rooms, one at a time, I knew that the house was worth a fortune. I felt guilty, I really needed the money, but somehow, profiting from the demise of a family member, was not how I had expected to get rich (rich by my standards anyway).

The house was extremely clean and very empty. The noise of my heels on the floor echoed thinly, reverberating against the walls. Most the furniture, art and personal effects, had been donated to animal welfare, at my aunt's request. Her other worldly possessions had been inherited by her char.

The aura in the place spoke of love, grief, joy, and the living of it. I could feel the drift of time passing through the halls as clearly, as if , the people who had created the vibe were still there with me. I shuddered, not because the feeling was unpleasant, but because it was so unexpected, and real.

An arched entrance way, decorated on both sides with intricate, delicate wrought iron filigree, beckoned me forward, the room, had been converted from a garage, and flowed through bay windowed French doors onto the pool deck beyond. The theme of white flowering plants was also evident on the patio surrounding the pool, but here, they were contained in large square terracotta pots. The effect was spectacular. Impressed, I continued up a winding stairway, with a banister of wrought iron, which echoed the design from the archway.

On the uppermost floor each of the rooms, including the bathrooms, had a spacious balcony, it was an odd combination of privacy, and openness. Each section was cleanly cut off from it's neighbor by a thick twisting green creeper that looked like ivy. I wasn't totally sure of my facts, but was nevertheless convinced that the style of the times had not dictated such odd construction, it seemed like a quirky, grand vanity, to me, but somehow, I knew the idea would stick. If I every built a house I would model it in this way.

I ambled down the broad upper hall, with it's dissecting doorways, leading to bedrooms and living rooms (it really was enormous). At the very end of the hall, leading from a door, laying invitingly ajar, I found a wooden staircase, dusty from disuse. It appeared to climb, skyward, without restraint. The dirt, added to the charm, since everything else was so spotless. I stood for a few seconds, simply absorbing the atmosphere. Here, it seemed might well be, a lost world, a window, to the lives of my family. Somehow, I just knew I was about to discover lost treasure, not gold, or silver, the place had been too well 'sifted ', for that, but maybe discarded things, old books, toys, clothes impressions of a life once lived. Forgotten moments, each, with a story embedded, held fast, that I might pry away and thereby, understand a little of the woman, who had considered me, a distant niece, in her Will.

The stairs creaked. Thick dust marked my footsteps as I climbed. The heady promise of hidden secrets, lured me to quicken my step, in anticipation of tantalizing possibility.

I was right (as I knew I was going to be), The attic, was wide, extending, across the entire expanse of the house, disappearing into tiny dark triangles, where the roof met the ceiling on all four sides. The entire space was littered with the stuff of life. My excitement, mounted, somewhere amongst these boxes, cases and crates was the essence of a missing passed, and I was going to find it.

I pinned up my long dark red hair, to keep off the dust, and stepped gingerly through the clutter, making my way from the entrance to the far-side of the area, accessing the bounty I had found and deciding where to start. It did not even enter my mind at the time, that the room had been overlooked, or that I should have reported my find to the powers that be. I was too awestruck, too impressed with myself, for having guessed, that there would be something worthwhile 'up there'. In retrospect, I should have walked back down the stairs and closed the door firmly behind me, but, I did not.

* Chapter 2. * Massive wooden rafters traversed the area under the roof, creating a beamed ceiling, heavy with cobwebs, the space above the beams, shadowed. Empty light sockets hung from exposed electric cords at various positions across the room, so at some stage it would have been easy to flood the room with light. Now, however, only two small high windows near the apex of the roof on either side of the loft, filtered light into the room. Dust clung to the shafts giving the impression, that the particles, validated by their visibility in those narrow beams, existed only there. I decided to bring in a light of my own, when next I came up to assist in my investigations, but for now, in the dim light, I focused on a worn wooden trunk, pushed up against the eastern edge. I went over to see if it was locked, I tried the handle, the lid remained firm, nothing budged, I would have to look for a key. An old-fashioned turntable was on the right side of the trunk. a square perspex lid, exposed a slim metallic arm, with the needle still in place. The record player sat atop a matching tape-deck, which in turn lay on a stack of dusty old vinyl albums. I lifted the tape-deck to get a peek at the records. Music by U2, Crowded House, REM, and Blondie, the collection must have belonged to my aunt. A plug-less cord, meant that I wouldn't be able to test if the system still worked, but I resolved to buy a plug for next time. A ramshackle cardboard box to the left of the trunk, had toppled onto it's side, displaying it's contents to the air. I bent down on my haunches, this was as, good a place, as any other to begin my rummaging.

Right on top was a an accounts manual, detailing petty every-day payments for trivial items like bread and milk, not what I was after.

A half open, moth-eaten, leather bound book, lay at the very bottom of the pile. I pulled it out, and shook the dust from it. The cover felt almost familiar in my hands, well worn and cherished. It was a heavy volume, unadorned, but for a book-mark ribbon. The pages were covered in a small neat script, which I recognized as my aunts hand. I let the manuscript fall open at will. The excerpt read '18th Sept. 1983'. I had the book upside down on my lap, I swiveled it and read,
'I can't believe Simon is interested in me, I'm so light I feel as if I could fly. I stared at my naked self in the mirror, this morning, for at least twenty minutes, trying with all my might to see what he sees in me, but I just ended up laughing hysterically at myself. everyone in the house, thought that I'd lost my mind(which under the circumstances was totally understandable), and came running upstairs to see what all the fuss was about, I threw on my clothes, (real fast). I would've hated anyone, particularly my mom to find me checking myself out, she would never have understood, and would probably have thought me vain. anyway, Simon does seem to like me. He has asked me over to the Regatta meet, on Friday. I think I'll wear my stovies and tank top, the one with the Marilyn Monroe print on it, Simon likes jeans. PS. Diary, don't let me forget to invite Amber along, Simon's pal, Gavin, is at a loose end since his girlfriend, ran off with Sheila's sister(the one with the boobs, and an IQ of about 7).'

I leafed through the book, there were literally hundreds of pages, aunt Delia, was obviously dedicated to her diary, I couldn't believe my luck, this was an unexpected windfall, a glimpse into a time gone by, a slice of life, served with all the garnishings, that only a nineteen year old girl would add.

I was nineteen as well, so the whole thing kinda', panned out as if fate had, had a stirring in the matter.

Fate or not, the image I had of my aunt, didn't quite match with the girl I had spied in the pages of her diary. My impression, was of a straight-laced middle aged woman, with a stern manner, and an even temper, true, I had only been in her company no more than five times in my short life, but still, I just didn't see her within the frame, cast about the girl, in the journal. That girl, was alive, vital, full of fun. I had a lot to learn, didn't I. a slightly faded Polaroid photograph was fixed to the inside cover. It had been taken with one of those old instant cameras. My aunt, grinning broadly, arm draped casually over the shoulder of a boy with wild golden hair, against a blue mountain backdrop. I realized that the two of us looked much alike, dark blue eyes, pale skin, mahogany hair with a hint of a wave to it. My aunt was dressed in a cropped top, full bust straining the shirt, slim hips, neatly tucked under the waist,. I wondered if the boy in the picture was Simon.

I sat myself down on the wooden trunk, for want of a more comfortable surface, and began to read in earnest.

'19th Sept. 1983.

We sat out on the embankment above the 'bay'. Where the old river flows, so languidly, passed the campus. Gavin is still sullen, despite Amber's ardent attentions (He's a well built boy, with a bright future), Amber, is in love, I think. As for me, well, well, well, who would've imagined it, Simon, yes, yes, The, Simon, lay down on the grass at my feet and strummed his guitar, to the light of the moon (really), while the four of us sang along in blissful harmony, we shared a bottle of red wine and munched on crisps, and sour cream dip, I have never, ever, ever, been so damn happy, can you hear me world, can you hear me?'

I knew that Delia had never married, what, I wondered, had happened to her beautiful boy, I turned the pages feverishly to get my next fix on my aunt's wistful love life.

'More, same date.

While we were messing about, after the boat race, singing, and throwing wild words at the sky, Gavin, yeah, Gavin, not Simon, suggested, that we could seriously 'Do It', (if we wanted too), he reckons that we sound that good, I joked that a bunch of stray cats could do better, and Gavin, shaking his mane of dark golden hair, screamed into the wind, 'Stray Cats'. So 'Stray Cats', we became..'

I couldn't believe my eyes, My aunt, a Stray Cat, wow, I bit my tongue, in glee.

'29th Sept 1983.

Amber's father has had a stroke, This is so weird, he's the guys' soccer coach at varsity, and the fittest most able man any of us know, what is the world coming to, where is God.' After that entry, there was a long gap, aunt Delia, had obviously been deeply affected by Amber's fathers illness, then more tragically.. 'There is no appropriate date, I can think of to add as a heading for this. Amber's dad, Died.' I was crying. I had only read a few pages, and the tears were streaming. I searched in my bag and discovered a couple of creased tissues, and used them to stem the tide of my sorrow, I could feel her, she seemed to be sitting right next to me. '6th Nov. 1983. Exams.. Wake-up call, this is the real world, I have not slept for 48 hours straight, and I had better pass, or my unforgiving sponsors will yank me outta school as fast as look-at-ya.' Delia, had been a straight 'A’s', student, that much, even I knew, seems as if those grades weren't 'that' easy to come by. 17th Nov. 1983. Wrote English Lit, my fav, sub. What can I say, it's been a shitty year, I think I've passed, I know Gav and Simon will sail thru'.., Amber has dropped out of school.' Bitch, I slammed my hand, flat against the lid of the trunk, dust rose in a suffocating puff. It gathered in my nostrils and at the base of my throat, I sneezed, a blast at life's disappointments, I coughed sadly, at my aunts compassion for her bereaved friend. '3rd Dec. 1983. Mom, and the rest are going to the Bahamas (again), with all their connections, I cannot believe they are so, utterly, banal, mundane, unimaginative, jeez, what about Everest, or the Amazon. What of Venice or the great wall of China, what of, what of..., what of the Rajasthan, the romantic call of the Indian land of wild horses, what of Kenya, Russia, Tasmania, not that I've got anything against the Bahamas you understand, It's just the "what if" itching at my soul, begging at something unseen, why can't they hear me, why don't they see...' '5th Dec. 1983. They bought me a plastic sun shade and a pair of disgusting, Pink floral shorts, I broke up the cap, cut the shorts to bits, and flushed them both down the loo..' My pulse was racing, she could be me, she was writing about me, we were, one and the same, I could hardly breathe..., Delia. '7th Dec. 1983. I boiled a brick, made a hot water bottle, and stuffed them both under my blankets, I swallowed Senna, and rubbed blusher into my cheeks and lips, I have been breathing unevenly, and gasping for hours. Finally, they have called in old Doc. Winslet, he took one look at me hot and percolating under the covers, and pronounced to my unimpressed parents that it would be better to leave me in bed, with a course of strong anti-biotic, than to attempt moving me to the beach. Yay..yay. My parents have decided to leave me at home, in the care, of Sara our char, life is improving by the minute.' My tears where all gone, my smile, broad and grinning. What spirit, what spunk.. Jeez. '11th Dec. 1983. all is quiet on the western front, I have the run of the house, and Sara, only comes in to check on me in the morning, this is a game I fear, I could learn to play, with relish.' I could feel the rebellion rise under the soles' of my feet, I could feel Delia's rejection of the ordinary, in favor of the extraordinary, it rankled, and teased my goosebumps to a prickle. '12th Dec. 1983. Got a letter from Amber, her mom has moved them to Paso, 690 km away, so that she can take on a job up there. Amber hates it and is going to try and come back to varsity next year. ' '15th Dec. 1983. Simon is collecting me at noon, he drives this completely interesting motorbike, called an off-road cycle, it's meant for beating hard (you guessed it) off-road terrain. He adores the sport and competes in an amateur way. With Amber gone, and Gavin away with his family for the holidays, our plans for the band, have been shelved, for now, but Simon says (Gosh, Simon says: like the song, hey), that we should jam together, and see what we can come up with, It's as good a plan as any. The 'Its as good a plan as any' is exactly how I would think, or talk, or write, I was looking into a mirror, a reflection of myself in my aunt words. 17th Dec. 1983. Had that horrible dream again, the one where I'm drowning, my lungs are urgently in need of air, I know that eventually the desire to open my mouth and try to breathe will force water, rather than air into my body, then I will never surface again. I woke up panting, in a sweat, as usual whenever I have this dream, I've been put off, by it for the entire day.' I guess we all have similar dreams that scare us, I know I've had them. 18th Dec. 1983. Simon at the gate again, my heart skips a beat every time I look at him, we're going to his parents place for dinner, should be interesting. 19th Dec. 1983. They hated me, I said all the wrong things, and they kept up a running lecture against being a Vegetarian, 'no protein in your diet, will soften your bones and your brains, my girl', that kind of thing the whole evening, it was an absolute disaster. Strange how different a child can be from their parents. I wonder if he will want to see me again???' 20th Dec. 1983. He does, oh my. Sounded like true love to me, I shifted my weight on the trunk to get my blood going a bit, my butt had gone to sleep, but by now, I had been drawn in, I was mesmerized, I hardly noticed how cold the attic was, or the draft, that crept up the stairs and eddied about the room, all I could think of was, aunt Delia. eventually, I had to call it quits, there was no light left at all, I could hardly see the pages in front of me. Reluctantly, I decided to take the diary with me, and go back downstairs. I wondered if her words would have the same effect on me, without the prevailing atmosphere in the loft, I needn't have worried. * Chapter 3. * I had come up to sign the papers, at the behest of aunt Delia's lawyers, and was staying at the local Holiday Inn, until all matters relating to transfer had been dealt with. I felt somewhat out of my depth having to deal with everything alone, but I was handling it alright. My mom had died when I was six in a skiing accident. My dad was on conference, my best friend in Europe, and my boyfriend, Shaun had to attend a family wedding, else, I would, probably, have had all three trying to help. The hotel was anonymous. I was glad, I would have hated it if strangers had known my personal business, the way people often did in small towns. Her diary had been a lucky find, I felt as if a vista to the past, had dropped into my lap, as if I had been meant to find her work, meant to unravel the secret truth of my bloodline. Aunt Delia was nothing like my image of her, not even vaguely akin to the person I had painted in my mind . This was totally unexpected and more than a little thrilling. All my sleuthing had left me ravenous, I had room service send up a light snack, and climbed into bed with my aunt's journal, but despite my interest in her story, I was asleep in minutes, it had been a very long day. I woke, feverish, and coughing, my nose and chest congested and weak. The draft in the attic yesterday, must have brought on a virus. I wouldn't be able to continue my investigations, until I felt better, I'd have to be content with reading the diary, and besides the fact that I found my aunt's writing riveting, I had hoped to unearth the key for the locked trunk, now it would have to wait. I fished the book out of my bag, slung it across my chest. Opened it up, then fell into a fevered sleep. Part Two. Then. “IT IS IMPOSSIBLE To LIVE WITHOUT FAILING AT SOMETHING, UNLESS YOU LIVE SO CAUTIOUSLY THAT YOU MIGHT AS WELL NOT HAVE LIVED AT ALL, IN WHICH CASE, YOU'VE FAILED BY DEFAULT.” J.K.Rowling * Chapter 4. Delia. * "I don't, really want to, but if you want me to I will" I heard how crazy it sounded only after it was out of my mouth. Simon wanted me to go down to the track with him, I didn't really want him to see how nervous I was, stories about the track, and what went on down there, were enough to crush any girls resolve. "Gavin, is home, his folks only took a weeks vacation, so he can sit with you, if it'll make you feel better, Delia, I'm talking to you, don't look away, it's distracting, it makes me uncomfortable, as if you aren't even listening to a damn thing I'm saying" I was exasperated, and I hadn't realized, until that very moment, just how much, "Simon, please, don't get cross", I pleaded, "I've never been to the track, I don't know what to expect, I heard all sorts of odd tales about it...." "well, now's your chance, to separate fact from fiction, you can come on down, and see what happens for yourself, no more stories. It's the biggest thrill, Delia, I'm telling you, you are going to love it, come on girl,.." I shut up. The night was flying passed, as I stared out of the car window. I hid my face from him, agreeing, not to disagree, but I knew already that I was going to hate it. We pulled up at a red light, and the few minutes that it took to get back into motion were filled with a deafening awkward silence, we had never had a fight before, but this was more than a tiff, this was... Simon pulled up in front of Gav's place, and jumped out, without asking me in, I sat there fuming for at least fifteen minutes while Gavin got himself together and into the back seat. Simon slid behind the wheel with easy grace, and set off for the track. None of us said a word, but I seemed to be the only one taking notice of the silence. Gavin kept his head averted, watching the passing view. Simon was in his own world. Before we were within shouting distance of the place, I could see massive spotlights set out on either side of the road. As we drew nearer the lights etched -out everything within the radius of their glare. All was brilliant definition. Kids of various ages were milling around, in what appeared to be two distinct camps. From where I sat, I could see the glint of dark glass as the boys swigged beer from bottles tilted to their lips, I felt ill, the only other girl I could see was Sheila's sister, the one with the boobs, and the … Gavin looked at me sheepishly when I turned in my seat. He didn't say anything, but I just knew he had spotted Sheila's dumb sister as well. Simon was thumping the steering wheel in rhythm to a tune only he could hear in his head, and I wished I'd had the strength to say 'no' , when he'd pushed me into tagging along. Cars, lined the track, and I realized, that more than a few, had been borrowed form parents and older brothers, or sisters, I doubted if any of them, had any idea of the purpose for which their cars had been requisitioned. Gavin cleared his throat, then piped up, "Simon why don't you drop Delia and I off, near Scott, and Ricky's car, over there?" he pointed, over my shoulder, to a long, low silver grey car, with a pair of guy's lounging on the bonnet, "That way we'll get a good view," Simon seemed to like that, he nodded silently and obliged. I didn't know either of them very well, but when the invited us up, and offered us each a warm beer I realized that Gavin had made a good choice, and that he had made that choice, more than partly for my benefit. Scott was friendly and mild, he started up on telling us in a, non-stop, sing-song, fashion about all the excitement, we had apparently missed. While he was chatting along, two older looking sporty cars started squaring up at each other under the harsh lights. Engines revving they rolled slowly up behind two separate chalk lines, which had been heavily marked out on the road. A big guy, with rugged features and flaming hair, (whom I recognized vaguely from college), held a striped, black and white flag up above his head dramatically while the cars revved and waited. He counted down, shouting above the din. At zero he dipped his flag, sending his whole body with it, in a bow to action. The cars flew off at a screech, tyre smoke billowing from their wheels. The cars, one a sort of burnt tan, and the other white, hurtled towards each other at breakneck speed. The crowd of onlookers gaped, straining forward as one to catch the thrill. It seemed as if the drivers would truly collide, then at the last second, the white car veered off the track, swerving , narrowly missing a tree, it came to a stop a few meters away, in total disgrace. I was horrified, I just couldn't believe what was happening, these were normal everyday kids, kids I knew and liked, what the hell were they doing, I swung around, my disgust written all over my face, "I know, I know.." Gavin returned my look, then added, "Simon is crazy, sometimes I really believe, he has a death wish, but when you see him in action, and you're just about too, you'll see that he actually has one of the most well developed senses of self-preservation I have every come across." He inhaled deeply, he was shouting to be heard, above the noise, he added, "De, he's up next. Not one of these drivers would dare to call Simon's bluff, he knows they will fold for him, there isn't a kid in school, willing to have Simon's blood on their hands. It's like poker De, and Simon, always has the winning hand." "This is not poker, Gavin, this is..., well it's more like Russian Roulette, it's, downright nasty and I've had enough, I don't think I could ever find, watching a bunch of kids attempt to smear their brains out on the road in a game of Chicken, entertaining, you are all mad," with that I climbed down off the bonnet, Scott and Ricky where staring at me like I was some sort of wimp, I didn't care, I just needed to get away. Gavin sighed, he jumped down next to me, crushing his half-smoked cigarette out with a grind of his boot on the tar. "Please, don't tell me, you want to walk home," "That's not what I want, Gavin, it's what I'm going to do..., you coming, or not?" I tried not to sound hysterical, but I could feel nausea bubbling in my gut, "Simon's going to be as mad as hell if you do this De." he warned. "He can go to hell. “ I honestly didn't know what it was about Simon that had attracted me so. obviously, his looks played a part, he was tall, well built with a quirky smile, that curled his mouth up at the corners, his hair was shoulder length, as fashion dictated, and he would smooth it back with one hand, fairly often in a gesture that made everyone want to look at him. His eyes were dark blue, and pensive, and they set off his black hair to perfection, oh, yes, there was no denying that he was good to look at, but I knew it was more than that. I continued to try and analyze my feeling while I trudged determinedly away from the lights, Gavin on my heels. I guess, if I really thought about it, part of the allure, was that he had singled me out, he liked me, that made me feel special in a selfish way. Simon could, literally, have just about any girl he wanted, but he had chosen me, he had pursued me, chased me. He was not the sort of guy I usually went for. Until Simon, I was usually more of the aggressor, going after the guys who made me laugh, the guys with humour in their souls and the intelligence to back it up, Simon was an anomaly, he was the first 'Jock', (for want of a better description), that I had every dated, he was definitely not stupid, negating the stereotype often figured around, guys of his type, but he used his brains, along with his brawn to constantly give himself the advantage. He was also, very aware of his looks and popularity. He used all the tools he had at his disposal, engineered, or natural, to subtly elevated himself into the lime-light at every available opportunity. "Why so silent, then?" Gavin asked. The wind had picked up to a brisk breeze, snatching leaves off the ground and throwing them about, playing a secret game with them. I pulled my jacket tighter, trying to lock out the cold, and praying that it wouldn't rain. I felt the first fat drops splatter onto my face, "I'm not silent, I'm angry, and I'm walking and Murphy is just about to unleash a storm at us." I looked over at him, from beneath raised eyebrows, I was glad he had followed along, I wouldn't have been particularly happy, out on the road, at night, in the rain, on my own, "You're thinking about Simon, aren't you?" He's forehead puckered and he's mouth drew itself into a sour squiggle, I didn't want to think what that squiggle meant, Gavin was Simon's best friend. "No I'm not.." I denied, but Gavin had me taped and he knew it, "H...umm..ph." He answered, letting it slide. "Let's make for my place, rather than yours, it closer, then I can drive you home." "Thanks", I stopped a moment to let him catch up, "You're a pal." I turned my attention back to the road. * Chapter 5. * Gavin lived in a flat at the back of his parent's house. It was big, but cosy at the same time, I was very impressed, Big glass sliders across each room, meant that even the kitchen opened up onto the pool patio. It was fully functional, consisting of a kitchen, bathroom, lounge cum dining room, plus a studio for Gavin's art and music, I was more than a little envious. "Wow, some place you've got here." I said, brushing the rain off my jacket onto the tiles. When I had dried myself off, as best I could, I stepped inside, it was gorgeous. Bare brick walls, at the rear, spliced by huge, picture windows, overlooking a wild, tangled, green, garden, planted out in front of a face brick, boundary wall. The front doors spilled onto a bright planter laden porch with a gigantic swimming pool, edged with built-in bays for sun cushions, around an inset Barbecue area. Most the furniture inside was also built-in, easy to keep tidy, and 'spot on' suitable for a young single guy, with lots of boisterous friends. "Yeah," Gavin said casually, looking around, seeing the place through my eyes. It was a dull, grey, rain washed evening, and even so, the place looked good. In the sunlight, it really must have been beautiful. "My parents built it as a surprise for me, while I was in 'Tibet', before I started 'varsity. They maintained that the house, was no longer big enough, to hold, me, them and my four brothers and sisters, I like it too," "You went to Tibet, really?", even I could hear how, incredulous, and awestruck I sounded, like some wide-eyed kid. Gavin was two, or three years older the the rest of us in our group, he had taken a gap year first, that turned into two, before returning to varsity. "I stayed there for a few months, it was pretty cool.." he added lamely, in the face of my wonder. "Do you want to change out of those wet clothes, before I drive you home.., and wouldn't you like a cup of coffee, or perhaps something, a bit stronger..?" His voice faded, as he walked away from me, through the lounge towards what must have been the bedroom. "I going to change," he said, not giving me a chance to reply, covering my gaffe for me, and giving me a few minutes to get a hold of myself. "have a look in the kitchen, find us something to drink, I be right back." Gavin, I decided, was really a very nice guy. I rummaged around, until I had located, coffee, whiskey and cream. I was quite proud of myself, Irish Coffee, from the fridge, and shelves of a foreign household, in a mere twenty minutes, even Gavin, had the grace to, look impressed when he re-entered the living-room, carrying a track-suit for me to change into. "That's very clever, I don't think I could every whip that up out of thin air.., here's one of my sisters gym suits for you, I think she's about your size" I smiled for the first time that evening, "Now, drink up. My turn to change" I said in answer, taking the suit into the bedroom next-door. Gavin's parents must 've been loaded, this was no Jerry-built add-on, plenty of money, time and care, had been thrown at the place. The bed, was also a built-in affair, with, what looked like a really, old-fashioned feather mattress, I resisted the temptation to test it out. a long, low wooden shelf, spanning one entire wall, served as a vanity, book shelf, hold all. It was a practical, yet decorative idea. A lived in, cared for and beautiful room, a room few could ever find tiring. Dressed in the black tracksuit, with it's worn lime binding, I felt warmer, and much more under obligation to Gavin than I had planned. By the time, I got back, Gavin, had a fire going in the grate. Rain was still beating, wildly at the glass doors, and windows. Firelight made the room look even more inviting, than it had, when I was standing outside, sponging rain off my hair. "' A++', for the coffee De, you are very lucky that I haven't polished off yours as well" He held up his empty glass for my inspection, teasing a smile from me, "Do you think you could make me another?" I knew in my bones, that he was creating a delay, fireplace, more coffee, questions, I should have thanked him for his help, and suggested we get a move on, instead I clinked my glass to his, rounded the island to the kitchen and made us each a refill. I sat down on the couch next to him, "Gav, I really must go, I.." I trailed off halfheartedly, he took an REM, album out of a collection, and slipped it onto an expensive looking metallic turntable. The turntable was part of a low-key, but, spectacular stereo system, although, miniaturized, it had the best acoustic balance I had ever heard. Sound literally filled the room. "So.., REM, hmm.." "good, hey?" I had to agree, it was good. * Chapter 6. * I didn't hear from either Gavin or Simon again until after Christmas. When Gavin had driven me home that night, we were both, mindful of our easy friendship, and careful no to overstep it's boundaries. That an air of heightened expectation, had been swirling between us was not something either of us wished to admit, but then reality is not always something that can be forced into the background, by simple denial. Gavin and I, had already begun, we just hadn't admitted it to ourselves yet. Simon sulked until late January, but with a new year and varsity around the corner again he decided to relent, he called me to set up a jam session, "De, haven't heard from you, what's on,..Let's get together before school starts and see if we can get some music off the ground, what do you say?" My parents where home, sporting stories of sun filled days and water cruises, I needed to get out of the house, and most of all I knew that wherever Simon went, Gavin would not be far behind. He collected me in his Fiat, which he used as an alternate to the bike, it was not the car he had been driving that night. "We are all meeting at Gavin's place, he has this neat studio thing in his flat, the place is perfect for us, wait till you see it.." I realized two things quickly, one Gavin had not said anything about that night to Simon. Two Gavin's friendship with Simon was based on the same tenet as my friendship with him, the overtures had come from Simon, and Gavin had simply fallen in with his plans, slightly flattered by Simon's attention, (he had more friends than anyone I have ever known), people adored him. another aspect I began to understand, was that Simon played the part of Simon in his own life rather well, he kept most people at arms lengths, did all the thrilling things they expected of him, excelled at the things they wanted him to, and only allowed a handful of 'friends', into his inner circle. That way, he had most everyone on a shoestring begging for more, he was masterful in the role of Simon the Golden Boy. "So.., what have you got in mind?" I asked, catching sight of the determined set to his chin, Simon was clenching his teeth, he really wanted to be friends again, I hid my sarcasm immediately, "Good of you to pick me up, this should be fun, do you have a heater, it's ultra cold", he smiled at that, switched the heat to high and turned the music up, allowing us to drive on in silence. White street-walks, lined with skeletal winter trees winked by, the day was crisp and stark, I shuddered despite the warm air blowing through the car. The image of the landscape from the windscreen, reminded me of an awful dream, that seemed stuck in my mind. I was drowning, trying not to gasp water into my lungs, I could see the ripples on the surface above my head, taunting me to strike out, to swim for air, but my feet were entangled, gripped by the twisted floating, fronds of a water plant. I looked from the tantalizing bubbles above my head to the river bed, the entire area was covered with the same plant I had become enmeshed in, the fronds reaching out for me like the hands of death, the nude trees had triggered the memory, which I would bury purposefully on every waking. I'd always been aware that there was something more. an aura of 'other' hovering on the edge of reality, my awareness was not something I attempted to cultivate or fret over, but nevertheless it was always there, like a consciousness with a tangible form of it's own. The pictures conjured by the dream were vivid and substantial, I pushed their menace to the back of my mind, and began singing along to the music, blaring from the speakers in the back of the car. Music always made me feel better. Simon, completely unaware of my dark thoughts, approved, he gunned the car into the light morning traffic, and I could see that he felt much better about me, and about himself. Gavin was standing, waiting for us, on the graceful sweeping drive, that led to his house, honey hair, ruffling in the breeze. My reaction was sharp, staggering and totally unexpected, my pulse quickened, and I was suddenly very aware of my heart in my chest, it was so absolutely physical, that it took me completely by surprise. When he helped us get our gear out of the boot, I noticed that the edges of his smile looked strained. I felt better immediately, he was also caught by the thoughts of an us. "This was Gav's idea." Simon said over his shoulder to me, "I procrastinate, but he says if we want a shot at it we had better do target practice, cute line, hey?" Simon laughed, he was Gavin's most ardent fan. I often wondered what it would take to make him angry at Gav. We had both left him at the track that night, but whereas, he hadn't spoken to me in two months, he had not even noticed that Gavin had sided with me. A fleeting impression, a misty premonition, tugged at the corners of my mind, as I watched Simon refocus on getting our stuff into the studio. Like a word that was just on the tip of the tongue, then gone, despite the wanting, it nagged, unformed, at my heels for the rest of the day. Gavin had been working. He sat off to one side on a wooden bench that wrapped around the room, so that Simon and I sat on the the same bench but on the opposite side. Gavin played the cords he had been stringing together. Simon unsheathed his guitar and tried to match, the tune. The difference between them, once again so apparent that it made me wince. Whereas, Simon strummed, and was an adequate musician, if given the opportunity for practice and repetition. Gavin played by the seat of his pants, he had an uncanny ability to hear music in his head and the practicality to structure and format it, so that others would be able to hear what he was thinking, he played as if his soul were tuned to the flight and tremor of the sound. I was floating, the notes soaring past me, twisting at me, lyrics were tumbling so fast, I had to grab a piece of paper to pin them down. We were spontaneously intense, ridiculously intuitive. We shared a channel, with a wave length of our own, I was singing along as I scrawled, but when I looked up from my script, my bones chilled. Simon was staring at me, the expression on his face registering, both bewilderment and menace, his eyes were hard, his shoulders as tense as a coiled snake, I heard myself gasp, Gavin stopped playing, losing the mood, "What..?" Gavin said, he hadn't seen Simon's look, "That was going great De, why did you stop..?" Simon was smiling over his feelings, "Nothing..., I just ran out of ideas, for a second', I covered for myself. Simon was gushing now, in an excited tone, boisterous and grinning, "That, was totally amazing Gavin, De, if we've got tunes like that, we'll be a musical force to be reckoned with in the blink of an eye", he looked happy, and Gavin, was so very, very pleased. Simon's predictions were spot on, by March we were a musical sensation at varsity, with plans so big that they lit up the sky like a carnival. Strange the pure naivety of youth. * Chapter 7. * I can't say for sure when I began to feel afraid of Simon. I guess he started to frighten me, even before I caught his expression, on the day our music began, but as time wore on, and we were constantly thrown into each others laps because of the success of the band, my fears grew. It rattled me enough to avoid ever being alone with him. Granted he made no attempt to piece our personal relationship together again, but I realized, that either by shear, stubborn non-acceptance or by the size of his ego, he was the only person who refused to acknowledge the smolder between Gavin and I, not that he wasn't aware of it, I had seen his reaction to it, just that he pushed it away from himself and ignored the possibility completely. on the periphery of my fear, was an intuition of Simon's capacity for careless violence, an inkling of his fondness for the physical pain of others. I can't say I ever saw him do anything remarkably cruel, but there was just something in his attitude to animals and anyone weaker than himself. His disregard hung from him like an oversized coat, as if compassion would always be a size or two to large for him to wear. over the next few months, my feelings about Simon were put on the back burner and when the three of us were together it was difficult to see him as ominous. We were living the dream. about twenty clubs and venues radiating from the campus were in our orbit, snug enough for us to have a following at each, but diverse enough for us to collect a few new fans with each and every gig. We were seized up by our own self-importance, and tossed around by it, in a whirlwind of applause, and adoration that convinced us, we were special, at cut above the crowd, demi-gods, teased to tyranny over our domain by the sound of teenage screams wherever we went. We were still at varsity, but we were no longer studying. Gavin was scoring straight firsts, ( but in all the time I'd known him I'd never seen him open a book ). Simon on the other hand was still passing, he must have been around the books a bit, but he was not doing as well as he had been, as for me, my grades had slipped, and I realized that if I wanted to stay in school, I would have to give up the gigs for a month or two and crash learn. Money was coming in like a tide, but I hadn't learnt to spend it yet. We jammed at least three times a week, we worked at it, but it didn't feel like work. It felt like a game, and we.., and we were the winners in our own life, a life we hadn't planned, a life by default. Gavin, had news. He was latent with it, he couldn't wait to tell us. Champagne on ice. Bubbling, pouring, bursting, casting us as actors eager for our cue. We had a deal, they wanted us, they were going to spend money on us and pay for our music, as well. They referred to us as their investment, kind of crass, but who were we to argue. Their pockets were deep, and we were as keen as new lovers on a first date. * Chapter 8. * A number had been done on the pool area, fairy lights and streamers. Gavin handed us glasses. Then to screams of "surprise, surprise." a celebration of our contract signing rang out, backed by a tumultuous beat echoing from Gavin's sound system, he grabbed my hand, "De, there's someone I need you to meet.." He tapped the white suit on the back, "Gavin, so this is De, nice to meet you, ... finally" Heavily accented, Spanish tones, he held out his hand, "You are..?" I shot Gavin an inquiring look, "Marcus" Gavin supplied a name, "He is going to represent us, you know, De, be our agent, he has a pedigree a mile long" Languid, sultry, dark eyes, olive skin, incredibly black hair, he held onto me, a beat to long, I caught Gavin's eye, "De, tell Marcus, you'll be right back, there is someone else asking to meet you" he smiled politely at our agent and extricated my hand elegantly from Marcus's grip, "God, Gav he's like a slug.." I said when we were out of ear shot, "Yes isn't he, but a powerful slug, so don't let on, okay," Gavin was steering me across the room, hand on the small of my back. His hand felt like a hot iron, it was scalding, I tried to push it into a lower layer of my consciousness, to cocoon it in cottony non-existence, but still, it stung. The pool area, lounge and studio, was a mass of heaving, gyrating bodies, tinkling glass the only sound above the din. Gavin pulled me into a corner, "we'll have to build a fence around you De, Marcus was practically salivating" He laughed over the noise, "Ugg, slimy." I mock wiped my hand on my jeans skirt, it was shorter than I usually wore, but I'd toned it down with flat shoes, and ribbed tights. My tank top, was tight and cropped, but no more so than any of the other girls. Gavin clearly thought Marcus's reaction comic, "So, what' do you think is so wrong with me, that you fail to visualize a guy finding me attractive" I said with all the fake indignation I could muster. We were bantering, squaring up, play-acting, a pattern we habitually fell into to mask our deeper feelings. Simon and I were so over, that no-one even remembered that we ever had any couple potential at all, nevertheless, out of some misshapen loyalty on Gavin's part and some lingering respect for the intense effect he had on me, on my part, we held off, stretched out a no-mans land between us, that we were even more careful to observe when we were on our own. Suddenly the decibel level sunk. Marcus was holding his glass above his head, he was the type of person people naturally listened to, he was banging a spoon against the fragile glass, loudly enough to get everyone’s attention. "I believe a demonstration of skill is called for, what do you all say? Do you want to hear the Stray Cats?" Guests began mimicking him, clanging, spoons, forks, knives against bottles and glasses begging in unison for a tune. Gavin must have anticipated Marcus's move, because, although our equipment was casually arranged, off to one side of the studio, to my knowledgeable eyes it had been per-arranged. Gavin dragged me and popped me bodily behind the microphone, the crowd, silent, now. Gavin slung his guitar over his shoulder, and scanned the room for Simon. Simon was on the wrap around bench, on the left hand side of the studio, he was slobbering all over two very willing girls, wildly drunk and giggling like a school boy. He looked up groggily when Gavin called him over, "What the fuc.." he mumbled unintelligibly, his eyes glazed and stoned. an embarrassed hush fell over the crowd, then a buzz rumbled like an earthquake through the people, a low-key "umm", Everyone was staring at Simon and his entourage, both girls seemed to become aware of the disturbance in unison, they scuttled into the back of the crowd, clutching and adjusting their clothes as they went. Gavin, literally dropped his guitar and hustled over to Simon, standing in front of him, to block him from the crowd "Hey, bud.., Simon" I overheard him cajole, He pulled Simon to his feet. assessing that Simon was not too far gone, Gavin propelled him over to his spot behind the mike. Simon seemed to realize the gravity of the situation, because he made an effort to sling his guitar into strumming position, how he managed I'll never know, but somehow the 'Cats', were ready, the crowd appeased, and the music playing. Simon was off-key and lurching, but he stayed on his feet. Gavin was on electric guitar, and vocals, I was on keyboard and vocals. By turning up the volume, we drowned out Simon's acoustic guitar. We delivered a passable rendition of our best track, 'Lonely Day', the crowd, in-house fans, that they were, did not seem to notice that it was not a sparkling performance, they applauded madly. They were stamping their feet and clapping for more. Gavin, wisely, would not be goaded. He tried to lead Simon outside, for a breath of fresh air, but Simon wanted the bench. Gavin gave in. Leaving Simon swaying slightly, (but not to the music), he came back to help me pack away, he was shaking his head, and muttering under his breath, "Don't let him upset you Gav, he's really out of it, come help me move this speaker," I offered him the distraction he needed, he threw himself at the equipment as if it were a beast that wanted taming. The party was back in full swing, people in every nook and niche about Gavin's flat. People were drinking steadily, very soon, Simon was not going to be alone in his drunkenness. Gavin wanted to get the Barbeque going and feed the crowd, I tagged along to help. We had Prawns, Red Tail, sausages, foil wrapped potatoes, mushrooms, and corn bread grilling on the built in fire, and on several portable units. Various patrons swimming in Gavin's pool, decided to forgo the cool water, in favor of something to eat. The smell of the coals toasting up a feast, brought all but the most inebriated outside to join the queue. Simon was nowhere to be seen, and neither of us thought to look for him. We found a perch, under the awning. Swimming pool on one side, garish strobe lit lounge on the other, guests were spilling and milling through and beyond the sliding doors. Smooth sounds of a good time, "I think our people are enjoying themselves," Gavin's eyes, twinkled, reflecting the flashing lights, his face half-shadowed, bent over his paper plate, "You're missing out De, these Prawns are so good, and you're stuck with only mushrooms, potatoes and bread" He teased me to look over at him, "Vegetarian bashing, won't get you anywhere, you know," I rose to his bait, sipping the red wine, he knew I liked, and so, had made sure I got, Gavin was good to me. "one thing though, Gav, I must ask," I turned my attention to the crowd, "Whose paying for all this, is the band footing the entire bill, or is Marcus and Co. picking up some of it.?" "Right now De, it's all us, but, we can easily afford it, it won't even make a dent. Consider it advertising, this band is a business De, if we realize that and treat it as such, we will prosper." "God, did you say, prosper, "Yeah, what's wrong with prosper?" "Jeez, Gav, you sound like my frigging Dad," I laughed at him throatily, "Mind I don't give you a good thrashing, then, for all that nasty language, my dear" he returned playfully, in an accent meant to sound like my father's voice. We both laughed. "Seriously, De if we push this thing, I think we might just go all the way you know. Marcus says we are going to get radio play, and he's got a slew of venues lined up across two states that he wants us to play" "So much for my studies then, I was just thinking I had better put some work in, if I still want to be here next year." My mood changed, becoming abruptly serious. "Oh, come on De, if you apply yourself, it's not going to be an issue." "Fine, for you to say, you're the genius, I'm only human." I forked delicious marinated mushrooms into my mouth, "Don't be ridiculous, I'm not a genius" "are, too" I counted, swallowing, I giggled at his bemused expression, "De, you kill, me, you know, you really do." He said lighting up, and blowing smoke at the breeze. He actually thought I was joking. That was Gavin, for you. * Chapter 9. * Around 2 am, Gavin, Marcus and a few other brawny guys cleared the place out of the last persistent and stubborn stragglers. A couple of nasty drunks had to be driven home by volunteers, all in all, the party had been a great idea, and had gone off very well, there was still no sign of Simon, "De, why don't you stay over, it's pretty late," Gavin offered, "I'll sleep on the couch" he added, before I could get the wrong impression. I thanked him, amazed, that such a bright, usually sensitive guy, could be so dense, of course I wanted to stay over, sometimes Gavin was a total moron. With the last of the stuff packed away, disposable, party plates and cups, trashed, and Marcus and the others finally gone, Gavin and I sank down on the lounge couch, tired enough to fall asleep, where we sat. Only I could manage to be alone with Gavin, when we were both utterly exhausted, I grinned at the irony, "Penny for them." Gavin tilted my chin towards him, and rubbed a real or imaginary smudge from my lower lip, I was afraid my heart would stop, that I would die, with my chin still in his palm, "De you look, dead-beat, off to bed with you, come on" he navigated, steering me ahead into the room, he turned down the covers, then collected linen for himself, from an overhead cupboard. Hesitating a moment, at the door, his fingers on the light switch, he twisted around, "Sleep well, see you in the morning" he said firmly, tenderness catching in his throat, he turned down the light. I felt so let down, I could hardly breathe, I could still smell tobacco, coals. Gavin's aura swirled around me, like a heady drug, I collapsed on the bed, not bothering to pull the duvet over, and cried myself to sleep like a broken-hearted child. I awoke under Gavin's arm, stretching over me, to still the alarm clock buzzing on the bedside table. I sat up, dazed, disorientated, knocking his arm aside, "A..huh.., I was trying not to wake you," he pulled his arm back with a jerk, as if I'd scalded it on contact. He just kind of dangled there in mid-air, above me. "God, Gav you gave me a fright, I was having this, sort of very complicated dream, in which I was being pursued by my own nameless fears" "Nameless fears, hey.., well now, there's a term for you to chew on.." he picked over my words like a hen at her corn, "Generally, normal people knock, Gavin" I reproached, but I knew, my eyes were giving my emotional turmoil a screen for Gavin to view. He dipped, I rose, then I could feel his morning stubble, scrape against my cheek. He, hung back, momentarily, but it was to much for me, I clung, grabbing handfuls of his hair, his shoulders, his skin. We tumbled, tangled, and at intervals, came up for air. It didn't matter, if our breathing space was limited, it didn't matter that the alarm clock, was still ringing, Gavin pushed me, and I pulled at him, with a zest, I didn't know I possessed, we were as perfect as any couple could possibly be. Daylight tripped through the sliders, twinkling on the blue pool water and throwing weird patterns at the walls. I lay with my chin on his chest, staring out at the ripples of morning on the water, certain that I had captured some fleeting and intangible meaning of life, a meaning I knew, with clarity, I would never again spy. Gavin, lifted his head off the pillow, turned my face, and kissed me like there was no light left in the day. For all of us, stuck here as we are, with little choice in the how or where of our beginnings, there is usually that one moment in life that sticks out, with a clarity, no other time can match, a time we often tend to infuse with magic, that in retrospect, might not, have existed, at least, not in the intensity with which we later remember it. Nevertheless, we segment out that piece of life that we deem extraordinary, and carry it close to our souls so that, we might take 'it out' and examine it whenever we feel in need of reminding. For me this was 'that' thing. I waited for Gavin at the edge of his drive, which was wide enough to take three cars abreast, absently I noticed Simon's car still parked to one side of the garage, I thought someone must have driven him home. Gavin drew up next to me, idling while I got in, I didn't mention Simon's car assuming he must have seen it. As we drove I basked under the warmth of the summer sun, the world glinting by, in a hue of golden haze. Gavin chose a tiny rose, rambled bistro, on the crest of a hill, overlooking the lake. We sat, below the restaurant, at a rickety table under a gaily striped sun-shade, clear mountain water at our feet. a froth of clouds foamed over blue mountains in the distance. The still, translucent, water reflected the image of the mountains and sky back at us, as if we inside it's very shimmer. The aroma of fresh baking bread had titillated and teased at our taste buds from the moment we had crossed the threshold. A pleasant, rotund man of ample proportion, brought us hand written menus with an Italian slant, I chose, Ciabatta, with roasted tomatoes, mozzarella, olives and capers, Gavin liked the sound of that, but ordered bacon as an extra, we were both, dying for coffee. They brought it in a rough white crockery pot, complete with blue peasant design. It had broad, matching cups, "This is the best coffee ever," Gavin nodded concentrating on his brew. Breakfast was slow in coming, but when it arrived, the care and personal attention the owner gave to his guests, was apparent in the presentation, quality, and heavenly taste. Once we had polished off the very last mouthful, Gavin asked the proprietor to take a picture of us, with the mountain in the background. He had brought an instant camera along for the purpose. The image once done, was one I knew I would cherish. Gavin suggested a walk, we strolled, hand in hand, "Beautiful, isn't it?" Gavin said drinking in the view. Small boats glided on the smooth surface of the lake in aimless homage to idleness. As we watched a large graceful bird with black and white glistening feathers rose from between the boughs of a waterside tree, it soared elegantly toward the starkly etched mountain peaks framing the sky. It didn't seem that anything could be off, or out of kilter about the day, and yet, just for one second, as the bird gained height, I felt a chill pucker gooseflesh on my arms, despite the heat. It was only a brief shake of reality in utopia, but it rattled me for a moment, "What.." Gavin was on my wave-length to such an uncanny degree, that he had felt the shift in my mood, I took in his golden wind ruffled hair, his green eyes, with their flecks of yellow, his easy stride, and laid back manner, I would not manage if I lost him, if he chose to go off without me, I thought. "Let's hire a boat.."We exclaimed in unison. our joint outburst giving substance to the impression that our feelings for each other were special, that we had somehow been waiting for each other all our lives, that we belonged together, that we would not let anything in life drag us apart. In other words, the general ideas that all people have when they think that they are in love. I trailed my hand in the cool water while Gavin rowed until we were somewhere near the center of the lake, then he let us drift, languidly. He changed position so that I could sit in the crook of his arm, my head heavy on his shoulder, while the day shifted from bright to shaded, as the afternoon drew to a close. * Chapter 10. * By the time we got back, it was fully dark. Gavin said he had to go into town to collect his mom. He had promised her a lift home from work, he dropped me off at his flat, pecked me on the cheek, and promised to be back as soon as possible, it had been a beautiful relaxing day. I switched on the lights, someone had been in to clean up the place, it was as spotless as, the first day I'd seen it. I decided to take a bath, then see what I could whip up for dinner. Gavin's closet yielded, a loose denim shirt that looked as if it hadn't been worn in a while, I matched it with the same track pants he'd given me to wear the first time I'd gone home with him, (I didn't think he'd mind). His bathroom was big and spacious, with a magnificent sliding glass windows, onto a secret enclosed garden. What a wonderful idea, bathing inside, out. I ran the water as hot as I could take it, tipped, never used bath oil into my water. Gavin must have had, a mad aunt, or grandmother, somewhere who sent him unusable and inappropriate Christmas and Birthday presents like bath oil. What good-luck for me. a shadow across the bathroom mirror, caught my eye, but did not hold my attention, I splashed about, then, lay back supporting my neck on the tub rim. Strange, I thought the way my life had moved so abruptly from ordinary freshman, awe-struck by Simon's attention, to musician wanna-be, and Gavin's girl. The weirdest part, was how veiled Simon's true personality had been to me, and to Gavin, for that matter. Simon appeared, confident, talented and brave, he was actually the exact opposite, my feeling was that he was a pretty, but spoiled child, whose petulance, could turn nasty if thwarted. I had seen him willing to play Chicken, but as Gavin had pointed out, only if he could win. I had seen him sulk, and not speak to me for ages, because I had not participated willingly in his games, I had seen him slouch and slur, because he had to play second fiddle to Gavin in the band, a role he didn't expect, Simon expected to win, and I suspected, correctly, that he didn't like anything to stand in his way, or make him look, less than a hero, in his own life. Soaped, scented and deliciously, clean I wandered to the kitchen to check out the cupboards for instant pickings. I stretched up for angel hair noodles on the top shelf, I could sauté sliced veggies in olive oil and garlic, when Gavin got back, but I would be able to prepare them now, I could slice and chop. For Gav, I could throw in a few of last nights left over Prawns, that I had spied in the fridge. With all my ingredients on the counter before me, I selected the sharpest knife from Gavin's collection. Fortunately for me I had the knife in my hand, when a slight scraping of leather on wood, alerted me to the fact, that I was not alone, by some premonition, or sixth sense, I didn't put the knife down as I rounded the kitchen Island to investigate, "Gavin, is that you..?" Silence, perhaps I was imagining things, "Gav?," " Is anybody there?" I almost had a clear view now into the lounge and across the patio. I neared. A smudge of barely perceptible light altered its shape on the edge of my vision. Something moved, beyond the open sliding doors. Bright, overhead lights bathed the patio, but by the very nature of contrast, the dark was pitch from the point where brilliance began to fade out into the night. The silence was absolute, and that's what unnerved me, no answer. My heart started to pound in my ears, and do somersaults in my chest, I heard myself inhale, sharp and involuntarily, terror spread through my veins like a speeding express train, I was convinced that whoever was out there would be able to hear my heart, and smell my fear. What is it about adrenaline that makes us stand and fight against unknown odds, rather than run for our lives. The flat had sliders in front, but only windows out back, with a high boundary wall fronting the property behind, there was also a thick tangled garden lining the wall. That way was no option, the kitchen had a side door, but I knew from trying it earlier, that, it was kept locked, I could have gone round, into the bedroom or studio, and out of the doors, but I stood my ground. If I had run, perhaps things would have turned out differently, but instead I felt my jaw clench, my knuckles whiten, I gripped my knife. In my confused state the knife represented to me, at that moment, the force of protection a gun might offer, I was not thinking straight, not thinking at all, but rather acting the way any wild animal might, if challenged. BUY YOUR COPY NOW. http://www.amazon.com/Blood-Curse-ebook/dp/B006LVL87G/ref=sr_1_3?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1326881912&sr=1-3 If you liked this story the author would appreciate a review on amazon.com, scribd.com or goodreads.com.