When Helen arrived at the university psychology institute, there was a crowd of students bustling around the notice board "What's happening?" she asked a fellow colleague. "Why is there so much fuss?"
"It's Professor Lord. He's dead."
"What?" She pushed herself through the gathering students to read the notice board which explained that the professor was no longer available due to death of 'uncertain' circumstances. She wondered what caused it to happen so suddenly. Perhaps a heart attack, or a disease he had been keeping a secret? Whatever it was, it made her feel sad inside despite the knowledge she had learned about him and his weird past. The so-called games she and David played, but most of all, like the other students, she would miss his tutorials that were made clear, concise and interesting.
"Didn't' you have this thing with him?" One of the other students asked. A girl with dark hair and steely blue eyes, renowned for spreading rumours of half truths around not only the institute, but the whole university.
"No. Who told you that?" Helen asked.
"Oh nobody in particular. It was just something I was told. They said it was suicide."
"Who said it was suicide?"
"I spoke to one of the bobbies who came to announce it to the dean this morning." The girl replied with that evil grin that Helen despised. She dismissed it has rumour. Suicide was impossible, or she assumed it to be. David had lots of interests in life with his experiments, the manor and his lesbian lady friend, not to mention his passion for the hawks and teaching his subject. He seemed happy, but then she realised that she was a threat to his reputation too. All tutorials were cancelled until further notice. A replacement had to be found.
It was an opportunity for her to return home and clean up, removing all signs that she and Harry were having passionate sex. Jack was due home that evening. It had been a while since she had seen him. His regular phone updates were too short and quick to know exactly what he was doing in Paris.
Harry was at old Bill Firman's house where he lodged. Market was closed that day and old Bill was Harry's landlord for want of a better word, a fellow marketer who was legal, whereas Harry was not. It was important for him to keep a low profile when working, passing on his profits to old Bill, who kindly returned them without deduction of tax. He relied heavily on Bill now for trying to improve his lifestyle and atleast make something worthwhile of his life. His main objective was to find the right partner, but as always his habits of casual sex when he could find it ruled his life. Long term relationships became boring and someone like Helen was the closest girl he had to his ideal lover. Secretly he was beginning to fall in love with her. Not only was the sex good, she treated him good and he felt security when he was with her. Thing was, she loved someone else.
Old Bill was almost hitting seventy and still as strong as an ox. He was a man who defied all medical advice. He smoked; he drank in moderation and endured all kinds of extreme weather. As a youth he had run away to join the merchant navy and pretty much saw most of the world in his time. Harry was becoming like a step son to him, and for a bullish man they both developed a kinship.
Bill laid a hot mug of tea on the low table for Harry. "What are you gloating about?" he asked. "This Saskia I suppose? She's run off with someone else I tell ya'. Not point in bothering yourself over a woman." He sat beside Harry on the couch with his dirty tannic stained mug of tea. "I never got married, engaged or even shacked up longer than a week with a bint. Fuck them and leave them I say." What old Bill did not realise was, Harry was doing exactly that since he was a teenager, old enough to seduce any girl he fancied.
"You know Bill? You're a dirty old bastard." Harry replied jokingly. Bill found his comment funny and laughed heartily. Harry was pondering not only the thoughts of Saskia and Helen, but also why Hoffman let him down. Or so he thought. He tried calling him on the phone for the umpteenth time.
All he got was a message simply saying; 'I'm busy!'
"Anyway, who is this chap you're trying to contact?" Bill asked.
"Oh some old mate who owes me a favour." That was all Harry wanted to say to describe the man who claimed to be an old family friend. And although it was not that many years ago since he was supposed to have met him, he still could not recall the occasion.
"Well, if he owes ya' money lad, then you needs to forget him. He'll be well gone."
Jack returned home later than expected. The heavy snow was causing delays. Helen greeted him with passion, pleased to see him again. They hugged each other, embracing their separation end. "I missed you so much." Jack said, taking her face in his cold hands. "And, I'm starving. Do you have any food?"
Their evening was the usual type of evening. Lots of sweetmeats and wine lay out before them on the table. Jack's favourite oysters, his aphrodisiac that always reminded of sex. Helen watched him swallow the contents admiringly. "I bet you missed me didn't you?" she asked with a seductive grin on her face.
"Of course, as always. Although unfortunately business did not go so well. I must try harder next time I visit. The family is good. We had a very good Christmas. It was good to see them again, despite the sad loss of..."
"Don't think about it my love," She put her hand on his. "These things always have sad attachments to spoil the occasions." Jack smiled with agreement. "You are back home now atleast. We can continue our lives together. Remember, our new start. Let the past go and look towards the future."
