Farewell To The Dancing Man Ch 11 20

CHAPTER ELEVEN

"Mum, what is there to eat?" Timothy and his bottomless stomach had arrived home from school and interrupted Cynthia's thoughts.

"Get yourself a glass of milk and a biscuit." She resented the intrusion into her thoughts. She went to the refrigerator and got out salad ingredients and some lamb chops and started to prepare the evening meal.

"Not chops and salad again?" Timothy looked scornfully at the food.

"What's wrong with that? It's good healthy food."

"Why can't we have real food for a change?"

"What do you call real food?"

"Hamburgers and chips and coke, not this muck." He held up his half consumed milk.

"Listen young man, you can't live entirely on hamburgers and that sort of thing or you'll end up fat and ugly."

"But Tony has hamburgers all the time and he's not fat."

"Not yet he isn't because he plays lots of sport and burns up a lot of energy. But wait until he starts work and gives up all that exercise, he'll end up looking like his father."

"Yeah." he said thoughtfully, "I see what you mean." He gulped down the last of his milk and raced off to his room to emerge quickly in his swimming trunks heading for the pool. "Just a minute young man, homework."

"Gee, can't I do it later, after I've had a swim, I'm all hot and sweaty."

"All right but remember, ten minutes in the pool and then straight into your homework." He disappeared and a few seconds later Cynthia heard the splash of his entry into the pool, then Rebecca arrived with Samantha. "Mummy, can Sam and I go for a swim in our pool?"

"Yes, but you won't be able to stay long because you have your homework to do before dinner."

"I've done most of it, the rest I can do after dinner, please?"

"What about you Samantha?"

"I've done all mine Mrs Swain."

"When? You didn't have time after school."

"I did most of it in class, the rest only took a few minutes when I got home, and Bec helped me with it so she knows most of the answers already."

"Alright, off you go."

A few minutes later Timothy was back inside. "I can't swim in the pool with those stupid girls, they take up all the room."

"I was just about to call you in anyway."

"Why can't they use the pool at Samantha's house, that way I could swim without them bothering me."

"I don't know, you'll have to ask them."

"I did, they told me to mind my own business."

Timothy shambled off to do his homework leaving Cynthia to her meal preparations. Her thoughts drifted briefly to earlier that afternoon. She wondered if she should mention it to Brownlow.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Brownlow's Story.

Something had been bothering me ever since I left Cynthia and I couldn't put my finger on it. Our investigations on the previous owners of the house had drawn a blank. The Swains had been in it for about four years as Cynthia had already told me, the previous owner listed for the appropriate period that we were investigating were not contactable. The house was sold as part of a divorce settlement and half of the proceeds sent to the wife in England. The remainder was left to the husband and passed on to the daughter when he died. As yet we had been unable to locate her and it would mean spending time in the offices of the Registrar of Births Deaths and Marriages, not something that I would want to do myself.

Still, there was something that bothered me about Cynthia's reaction. It was as if she somehow knew something about this that she was not about to reveal to me. I put my thoughts out of my mind as I walked into the police station. "Any news from Forensics?" I asked Winters.

"No, they are still carrying out tests, but they say that they may never be able to accurately establish the time of death because there are no precedents for this investigation, something to do with the degradation rates caused by the bacteria in the septic tank that will require years to establish"

"Great. Have they come up with a more accurate guess than the one that they had earlier?"

"No."

"What about the cause of death?"

"Nothing from the bones to reveal contemporary damage, and nothing in what's left of the marrow to indicate an accumulative heavy metal poison."

"Where do we go from here? I guess that we shall have to try and trace the wife of that previous owner and see if she knows anything. I want you to dig up the divorce settlement records and get her last known address, then, if she's still in England, get in touch with Scotland Yard and see if they can find her and have a talk with her and see if there is anything that we can use."

"Now?"

"No. Leave it until morning, off you go." I sat and tried to organise my thoughts to make some sense of the whole mess. After about half an hour and several pages of doodling that included Cynthia's name surrounded by an intricate interwoven hearts and flowers pattern that, on reflection, disturbed me, I screwed up the paper and with practised expertise tossed it into my waste basket and left.

I resisted the temptation to have a few beers at my local on the way home, choosing instead to get a bottle from the fridge to have with my steak, onions and chips that was my staple diet on the few occasions that I dined at home alone.

After dinner and half watching the TV for an hour or so, I had a quick shower and climbed into bed. My last conscious thoughts were of the expression on Cynthia's face, it bothered me.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Rebecca's Story.

I could tell that something was bothering Mummy when Sam and I got home, but I didn't have a chance to ask her about it, what with Timothy carrying on about Sam and I using our pool instead of hers. Even Sam was getting on my nerves with her constant stories about what possibly could have happened.

Her explanations were getting more and more preposterous as time went on. First she insisted that the body was that of a jilted lover who had committed suicide and, rather than risk the scandal and disgrace, his family had secreted his body in the septic tank and told their friends that he had entered a monastery to devote his life to good works in darkest Africa.

From there had become a spy drama involving the Secret Service using the septic tank to dispose of a Russian agent caught spying. She kept prattling on non-stop for so long that I couldn't even get a word in edgeways. She really was becoming tiresome and if it hadn't been for the fact that her mother had been 'entertaining' a friend (male) in her pool when we got to her place on our way home from school and Sam wanted to make herself scarce I wouldn't have asked her over.

"Did he come here this afternoon?" Sam had at last gone home and Timothy was doing his homework, well he was in his room, and Mummy and I were alone at last.

"Yes he did." There was something about her voice that worried me.

"What is the latest news?"

"Not a lot. They have worked out that the body could have been in the tank for between fifteen and twenty years."

"Did you and him, you know?"

"It's none of your business what I did."

"So you did do it. Mummy, I'm worried about you and Daddy. I hope what you're doing doesn't mean that you and daddy will get divorced." I had this horrible feeling that they were heading in that direction. "I think that you and Daddy should have a long talk and look at patching up your problems."

"I'll give it another try tonight, but I don't think that it'll do a lot of good."

"I don't want to see you two split up, I love both of you and don't know what I would do if you did break up."

"I don't think that it'll come to that."

I went into my room to finish my homework, which didn't take long, and to have a think about what I would do if the situation got worse. I emerged from my thoughts when I smelt the aroma of grilling chops from the kitchen.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Cynthia's Story.

After dinner Timothy sat down to watch some idiotic American comedy show on TV and Rebecca took her usual position on the phone talking to her friends discussing topics with individuals that she couldn't discuss within her group at school. I washed the dishes and tried to collect my thoughts in some way. How could I broach the subject of our relationship with Peter?

He arrived home at eight-thirty, made himself a drink and joined Timothy in front of the TV while I got his dinner for him. After the kids had gone to bed and before he had a chance to go to his office I took the bit between my teeth, "Peter, I want to talk to you."

"What about, is it important?"

"Yes it is important! I'm not happy with our relationship."

"What is wrong with it? Don't I provide for you and the kids?"

"Yes, but that's not enough."

"What more do you want?"

"Some love and affection would be nice. Let me ask you, when was the last time that you held me and told me that you loved me?"

"I don't know, it can't have been that long ago."

"It was nearly three months ago, for the last six months you have not made love to me."

"Hey! What about last week?"

"Last week we had sex, I just lay there while you went through the motions of having sex with me. Again, when was the last time we made love?"

"But I'm always too tired when I get home from work."

"What about weekends?"

"What about weekends? Weekends are for relaxing and recharging your batteries for the coming week."

"Wouldn't you consider that making love, really making love, to your wife to be a form of relaxation?"

"When love making becomes a duty it is no longer relaxation."

"That's great coming from someone who goes through the motions once a week. Peter, now I want you to answer me truthfully, are you having an affair with anyone else?"

"Good heavens no! Whatever gave you an idea like that?"

"Fliss. She found out that John was having an affair with his secretary."

"Well I'm not having an affair with my secretary, or anyone else for that matter so you can put your mind to rest on that score."

"Then why have you lost interest in me, don't you find me just a little attractive?"

"I do find you attractive and why can't you just accept that I'm just too tired. Why must we have this song and dance?"

"Because I love you, and I not only need your love, but I need for you to tell me from time to time that you love me, or at the very least that you still care."

"But I do love you. Nothing will change that, ever."

"Well dammit! Why can't you show me that you love me! Surely it's not asking too much for you to hug me now and then and even give me the occasional kiss. Maybe when you get back into the habit you will feel like making love, really making love, to me."

Peter got to his feet and took me in his arms. He held me for several minutes, his lips buried in my hair. I could feel the roughness of his woollen tie on my face, his breath smelling of stale tobacco mixed with the remains of his aftershave creating an unpleasant odour. He loosened his grasp on me allowing me to raise my face to his, his lips crushed mine in a kiss devoid of passion. He was merely going through the motions and the lovemaking that followed served to confirm that assumption. He was mechanical in his efforts and climaxed long before I even warmed to the task leaving me deflated and alone. After I heard his measured breathing I turned over and cried silently to myself. My thoughts in turmoil. Would I, could I continue this farce of a marriage for the sake of the children? Would I continue my affair with Gary to preserve my sanity in this loveless marriage? Would I leave them all and weather the scandal and social stigma attached to that action. When eventually I did get to sleep it didn't last and I was soon awake, tossing and turning. After putting up with this for what seemed like hours I got out of bed and sat in the kitchen sipping listlessly at a cup of coffee.

Rebecca came in. "What's wrong Mum?"

"I just can't sleep."

"You're worried about you and Daddy aren't you?"

"I guess so. Oh Becky, I don't know what to do."

"If you don't love him anymore why don't you leave and divorce him?"

"That's just it, I think I still love him, Anyhow, what about you kids?"

"Do we have any choice in the matter?"

"Some. Would you stay here with your father or come with me?"

"I haven't thought about that part of it yet, I suppose I would live with you, although I'd miss Daddy."

I took her in my arms and hugged her to me, the relief showing in the tears that trickled down my cheeks. "I haven't made up my mind yet about what I will do, but when I have I'll tell you all about it. In the mean time don't mention anything about this to Timothy or your father."

"I won't. Cheer up Mummy, things will get better, I'm sure that you and Daddy can work through this and stay together."

"Thanks Beck. Now off you go, there's no point in both of us losing sleep." I was still in the kitchen when Peter got out of bed. I heard the en-suite shower hiss into life. I put on the percolator to brew fresh coffee to replace the vast quantities that I had consumed during the night.

Becky was the first into the kitchen, bleary eyed and still half asleep she gave me a hug. "Don't worry Mummy, it will work out for the best."

"Thanks Darling, you don't realise how much it means to me to have your support."

Timothy clattered into the room at a hundred miles an hour, sitting at the breakfast bar he demanded cereal and milk. Becky got it for him and, after noisily gulping it down he raced off to his room to fetch his school bag. He was just racing through to the garage to collect his bike when Peter walked in. "Where did you get to?"

"I couldn't sleep so I came out here so as not to disturb you."

"Oh."

"That's all, just 'oh'."

"What do you want me to say?"

"You could at least ask why I couldn't sleep."

"I think I can guess, I wasn't very good, was I"

"Now that you mention it, no. But it's not the sort of thing that we should be discussing here and now, why don't you try and get home at a reasonable hour tonight so that we can discuss it in detail."

"I'll see what I can do, I'm making no promises." He munched his way through his toast, gulped down the scalding coffee without flinching and went off to finish his dressing. Becky was leaving just as he emerged from the bedroom and surprised us both by giving me a kiss.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Rebecca's Story.

I didn't know what to make of the events, on one hand I was sad that Mummy was thinking about leaving Daddy while on the other hand I was happy that she was confiding in me, it made me feel so mature. I suppose, on thinking about it, I couldn't blame her for thinking about what she was thinking, after all, if it was so bad between her and Daddy then she was justified in thinking that. However, if Sergeant Brownlow hadn't come along when he did she might not have been so dissatisfied.

Samantha was no help. "My mother would just have had an affair and not told Daddy. In fact she's having one with a friend of theirs right now. She told me that her sex drive was much stronger than his so she needed to look elsewhere to satisfy it."

"And you don't find anything wrong with that?"

"Of course not silly. When I get married, if my husband doesn't satisfy me I'll have affairs."

"But if you love someone you shouldn't be unfaithful."

"Don't be so wet. It's common knowledge that we women have a stronger sex drive than men, so why shouldn't we have more than one man?"

"So what you're saying is that you have no intention of being faithful to your husband?"

"No. What I plan to do is to marry for money and find love on the side."

"Isn't that the same as being a prostitute?"

"How straight can you get. I thought you were as modern as me but now I see that you still have very conservative ideas. Marrying for money is not the same as selling your body like they do. I'm not going to have a cash register in my bedroom or anything like that, all I want is a comfortable home, plenty of money, maybe some children, and a lover as well."

We arrived in class before she could say anymore, which was just as well because I was beginning to feel as if I didn't really know Samantha any more. She had some strange ideas about love and marriage.

My day at school couldn't have been worse, it dragged slowly on and the more that it went on the more trouble that I got into. I just couldn't help it, I had far too much on my mind to be worrying about school work. I ended the day with detention and several hundred lines because I was unable to concentrate. Samantha waited for me to get out of class. "What was the matter with you today?"

"I kept thinking about what is happening at home."

"You mean with your mother?"

"Yes."

"Tell her from me that she should find herself a good lover and have an affair, that will cure everything."

"I can't tell her that."

"Of course you can, I'd tell my mother if she wasn't already doing it."

"Your mother and mine are two entirely different people, I wouldn't dare suggest it to her."

We arrived at Samantha's house and I went in with her. Her parents weren't at home so we sat around listening to records and talking. "Bec, has your mother seen you without clothes lately?"

Wow! What made her ask that? "No, why?"

"It's just that Mummy and I are always going around without clothes on, it makes for a closer relationship between us, nothing to hide and nowhere to hide it." She laughed at her saying. "You should try it.

"I couldn't."

"Why ever not? You have a good figure, if mine were as good as yours I would hardly wear any clothes at all."

"But you have a good figure too."

"Not as good as yours, my boobs aren't big enough, look." She peeled off her uniform and took off her bra. She was right, they weren't as big as mine. I took off my uniform and bra. We were both standing in our panties when we heard the front door opening. "Don't panic, it's only Mummy."

Samantha's mother came into the room as I was trying to hide my breasts with my hands. "What have we here, a case of you show me yours and I'll show you mine?"

"Yes, hasn't Bec got good boobs?"

"I don't know, I can't tell what with her hands in the way. Let me have a look." She reached out, I tried to pull back but she took my hand in hers and pulled them away. "Hmm, very nice, you should be proud of them and not try to hide them." The next I knew was Samantha's mother undoing her blouse and opening it wide to reveal her large breasts. "Now that is something that most men would die for." She thrust her chest forward and pushed them together and up with her hands. "If I was on the game I could make a fortune with these."

"Don't be so crude Mother!" Samantha said.

"Oh alright, still you've got to admit that they're good."

"Yes they are." I heard myself saying. "I think I'd better be going home before Mummy starts worrying about where I am."

"You could always ring her and let her know that you're here?"

"No, it's late as it is, I'd better go, thanks all the same."

As I left I heard Samantha's mother comment to the effect that she thought that I was afraid of what was happening. I don't really care what they thought, but I'm going to have to make a decision on whether Sam and I would continue to be friends. On the one hand I liked her as a friend, but on the other hand I was disturbed by the direction that our friendship was taking. I knew that what we had been doing was wrong, but she acted as if it was a normal part of girls growing up. I was confused.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Cynthia hadn't planned to discuss the birds and the bees with Rebecca just yet. She didn't know when she was going to do it and had been putting it off, but Rebecca had come home with a worried look on her face and, on questioning her concerns emerged and she now found that she couldn't delay it any longer. "What you're doing is not necessarily bad, it's part of satisfying your curiosity and becoming aware of your own sexuality. You are physically capable of having a baby and looking after it. However, society has decreed that you are not yet old enough for the responsibility of motherhood. Before you even think about taking such an important step, I think that you should know a lot more about your body and its functions. You and Samantha have been exploring each other's body, you will have notice that when she caressed your breast you felt a pleasant sensation. Your breasts are one of several erogenous zones, they can be different on different people, but are usually around the face and neck, the breasts and around your vagina."