The Chasm and the Bridge

The Chasm and the Bridge Ch. 01

'

There is no intensity of love or feeling that does not involve the risk of crippling hurt. It is a duty to take this risk, to love and feel without defense or reserve

.'

William S. Burroughs

This is the first chapter of a series, and it is a bit more serious in nature than most of what I write. There is no sex as such in this chapter though there will be in later parts. The remainder of the story is already mostly written so it will eventually appear. If you like it then please vote and I welcome feedback.

It goes without saying that all the characters engaged in sexual activities are over eighteen, this is of course a work of fiction, and the copyright is reserved by me, N. S. Carter, and I forbid its use, in whole or in part, without my explicit permission.

Prologue

The town of Wolfsden-By-The-Chasm has little to distinguish it other than its rather baroque name, and of course its chasm. It lies at the end of the railway line and in Victorian times it was this that persuaded the town fathers to rename it from the less-than-appealing Ratbury, in the hope that it might tempt more people to visit.

The only feature to distinguish this otherwise nondescript town, set amongst pleasant but not breath-taking scenery, was the aforementioned chasm, so it was a drawback that visitors almost never actually got to see it. On even the sunniest of summer days the bottom would remain stubbornly shrouded in mist, and the rest of the year that mist would often thicken to fog; a fog that would fill the chasm to the top and occasionally even spill out to obscure the approaches. The more overwrought writers would speak of 'an abyss exuding a dark miasma', but the fact remained that trying to attract sightseers to a sight they most likely would not see was never going to be easy.

Like all good spectacles the chasm also needed a history, preferably one that was both horrifying and intriguing, and ideally with a dash of mystery thrown in. Unfortunately, the chasm did not seem to have one. However, this was no obstacle to the intrepid boosters of the town's tourism potential, who hired the local historian, Jeremiah Integrity Hall (his unusual middle name a definitive refutation once and for all of the theory of nominative determinism) and asked him to supply one. They subscribed to the theory that the job of a historian was to write history, and to make it up when it did not exist or was not known. Jeremiah was more than happy to go along with that, provided they paid him, and the more they paid him the more history he provided for the chasm. The term 'jump the shark' did not exist in Victorian times but had it been in use it could have be applied to the moment when he suggested that King Arthur's legendary sword Excalibur had been cast into its depths.

All that remains of Hall's overheated imaginings is the idea that it was used by ancient druids, who he claimed had sacrificed innocents to the dark gods they worshipped by casting them into the chasm. This myth, although then completely without evidence, persisted in local minds as it was all too believable when you experienced the brooding and foreboding atmosphere of the place.

In a turn that showed fate does in fact have a somewhat twisted sense of humour, in the late 1980s a team of archaeologists discovered a sealed cave at the bottom of the chasm containing skeletal remains dating back some three thousand years, which showed signs of having fallen from a great height, and were adorned with lavish jewellery. Rather thoughtlessly they had evidently worn the adornments in question during their fall, which meant that the county museum now had a display of incredibly valuable but rather mangled torcs, bracelets, rings and necklaces.

Another feature of Wolfsden-By-The-Chasm, at least in the eyes of its owners, the Urquhart-Dragos, is their ancestral home, Wolfsden Castle. Of course, it is not really a castle but a very ordinary manor house with a few decorative and unconvincing battlements added. However, it really is not a good idea to mention that to them, since something else they have passed down through the generations, along with a sense of entitlement, no moral compass and a complete lack of a sense of humour, is reacting very poorly to the slightest hint of criticism.

Like many such already wealthy families, the Urquhart-Dragos had profited greatly from the compensation the British government had paid from borrowed funds to the former owners of slaves when they abolished that institution. A novel twist however in the case of the Urquhart-Dragos was that they did not own any slaves. However, the family had never lacked for ingenuity when it came to creative dishonesty and the money they gained was then added to by capitalising on the recent invention by one James Greville, which made possible the building of larger and more powerful steam engines at a lower cost.

Unfortunately, Greville's understanding of people was far poorer than his engineering skills, and far too late he came to realise that his 'friend' and 'benefactor', Sir William Urquhart-Drago, was neither of those things, and had in secret registered the patent in his own name.

Thus, the descendants of Urquhart-Drago lived lives of privilege and luxury, while the Grevilles did not.

May, 2018

When Julie Greville finally arrived, and after paying the taxi driver turned to face the house, she was relieved to see that there were no lights showing. She hoped that her husband would be asleep in bed, leaving any explanation for the morning. She let herself in as quietly as she could, slipped off her heels and headed for the kitchen to pour herself a glass of water before getting ready for bed.

She switched on the light and jumped in shock. Jake was sitting at the table, facing the door and dressed to go out, his coat over the back of the chair. His face was pale and drawn.

Before she could say anything, he spoke in a low, flat voice, without even looking at her.

"You've never worn stockings for me."

Julie was completely wrongfooted. There was an almost empty glass in front of him. It looked like it had contained whisky, and Jake pretty much never drank spirits; the bottle of whisky they had was a present and had hardly been touched in the six months since they had received it. She was trying to come up with something to say when he spoke again.

"Even on our wedding night you didn't wear stockings for me, but you wore them for him."

Julie's blood went cold. Her brain refused to work. When she spoke it was without thought.

"Who do you mean, Jake?"

He still would not look at her and his voice remained low, almost a monotone.

"You've never worn stockings for me, but you wore them for your date with Henry Urquhart-Drago".

Now she was reeling; hunting for a way to respond and not coming up with anything reasonable, but she had to try.

"No, Jake, you've got it wrong, it wasn't a date, and I wasn't wearing stockings for him, I ..."

Jake never interrupted her but this time he did, and his voice now had a bit more force in it.

"If it wasn't for him then who? Because as far as I could see there were only the two of you in that bar."

It began to dawn on Julie just how bad this looked, and foolishly she tried to hit back.

"Were you spying on me? Did you follow me?"

She kind of expected him to be at least slightly on the defensive but quickly discovered her mistake.

"Yes, I tracked your phone. I discovered that you are now PA to Henry Urquhart-Drago, through the brilliant detective work of looking at your company website, and even though you know some of what he did to me you chose not to tell me, so I began to wonder. Even when I gave you an opening to tell me, you wouldn't, and then you rejected me each time I tried to be intimate with you this week ..."

Julie suddenly felt the world turn over, beginning to grasp just how things looked to him, and also just how hurt he was.

"No, Jake, you've got it all wrong, I ..."

He banged his hand on the table, not particularly loudly, but enough to make her jump. She was all the more shocked because it was completely out of character for her gentle husband. He carried on as if she had not spoken.

"And then this evening my wife, who has hardly even touched me this week, goes out on a date with ... him ... wearing stockings, which she has never worn for me ..."

Julie was beginning to feel truly desperate, and at the same time also a part of her mind was telling her how wrong she had been in imagining herself to be the perfect wife when she had never been willing to make that small gesture of wearing stockings for the man she loved. How had she never known that it mattered to him? But she had to at least try to salvage the situation.

"Jake, it wasn't a date, it was just a company get-together, only a couple of people cried off at the last moment. I know it looks bad, but you have to believe me I would never ..."

He hit the table again, a bit harder this time, and raised his voice a notch further.

"Stop lying Julie! You went back to his place, just the two of you. I guess that was just to discuss the annual report, or the latest figures from marketing?"

Now she was feeling something akin to despair.

"Jake, I know it looks bad, but it was just that Carol was going to bring me home, but she bailed and Henry offered me a lift, and then he said he had to sort something at his house and it was on the way and ..."

This time she trailed off without him even interrupting, suddenly aware just how lame it sounded. Henry had endlessly delayed at his house until she had lost patience and called a taxi, and of course at that time of night it had taken a while.

Jake's voice returned to the low flat tone he had been using when she first got in.

"So, you just popped in to collect something at eleven and you get home after one in the morning."

For the moment Julie was unable to continue, aware that anything she said, no matter that it was the truth, would not be believed, and she couldn't blame him. She began to move toward him, hoping that a physical gesture might help now that words had failed, but he forestalled her, getting to his feet and throwing his coat on. She had rejected his advances so thoughtlessly earlier in the week and now he was returning the favour.

She had thought that he had his outdoor clothes on from his trip out earlier in the evening, but now she realised that in fact he was heading out, that he was leaving.

"Please Jake, don't go, I know I messed up, but we can work through it, I know it looks bad, but I wasn't unfaithful to you, you have to believe me ..."

Even in her own ears this did not exactly sound convincing, and she had the sinking feeling that while she had not fucked another man, she could hardly claim to be above reproach.

Jake walked into the hall and up to the front door. Then turned to look back at her and for the first time the pain he felt showed fully on his face. He was barely holding back tears, and when he spoke she could hear the raw pain in his voice.

"Why, Julie? What did I do to deserve this? I know I may not have been the perfect husband but what did I ever do to you to deserve this?"

Then, not giving her a chance to answer he was gone, walking into the dark.

For a long time Julie simply stood there, feeling a mixture of heartbreak and a sense of injustice at a situation that made her look so bad when it wasn't true.

After a few minutes she tried to call Jake, but his phone was switched off. She wanted to leave at least a voice message for him, but she did not know what to say. She sent a text message asking him to come home.

Jake walked aimlessly at first, before his feet carried him on the path to the bridge. He had only recently discovered that the bridge had been designed by his great-grandfather, Archibald Greville, who on being told that bridging the chasm was impossible, had taken that as a challenge.

Before he knew it, Jake was standing at the railings, looking down to the turbulent water he could sense even if he could not see it in the dark and the ever-present mist. Unbidden, the words of a song came to mind.

"

Hello darkness, my old friend

I've come to talk with you again ...

"

For a moment he paused, and then he spoke into the dark.

"No, I won't be jumping tonight."

This had been Jake's ritual back in the darkest days, his way of coming back to life and defying suicidal urges. At first, he had avoided the bridge, but then as he grew stronger, he had chosen to make it a ritual, to test himself, to stand looking into the abyss and defy its terrible attraction. Now it seemed that he was back there, but despite the overwhelming desolation he was feeling, he knew now that he had the strength to endure whatever life might throw at him.

He imagined that the ancient gods of the prehistoric people who had lived here might be punishing him for thwarting them of his sacrifice; for refusing to jump when he had been so tempted in the worst moments. He quickly dropped that thought though since he was all too aware that his problems had a very real cause in the shape of Henry Urquhart-Drago. A phrase from one of the Lord of the Rings films came to mind, '

such reckless hate

', and it seemed to apply just as well. Would there ever be an end to it?

Julie was the best thing that had ever happened to him; beautiful, kind, loving and optimistic. It had seemed to him as if things had finally turned around and he could get on with living, free of the blight of the Urquhart-Dragos. Maybe in retrospect it had been a mistake not to tell her more about what had happened, but he had not wanted to dwell on the horrors of the past, so he had only told her an abridged version to explain his antipathy to Henry Urquhart-Drago. Then he laughed harshly at himself. OK, so he might have prevented her betraying him with his nemesis, but it would just have been someone else, and that was hardly any better.

He made his way to his sister's place. At least he still had Katie. And she him. Back to the old days of the two of them

contra mundum

. He switched his phone on to call and warn her, and saw the missed call and text from Julie. At first, he was inclined to ignore it, but then realised he did not want her calling the police and so sent a simple brusque text to say that he would be at his sister's.

When Julie got the message she was at least a little relieved. She had always got on well with Katie and she hoped that she would be able to explain what had happened and maybe enlist her help in persuading Jake that it was not as bad as it looked. With that hope she went to bed and managed a few fitful hours of sleep.

On waking she immediately had a sense of emptiness, of a bed that was suddenly too big. And there was no smell of coffee being brewed. Jake always got up before her as she was not a morning person and brought her coffee in bed. But not today.

Julie began to think about all the little things he did for her, without grumbling and not expecting anything in return. And all too often she didn't do so much in return. Unbidden, his simple statement from the night before came back to her. 'You never wore stockings for me'. She wanted to argue, which was crazy since he was not there. She wanted to say, 'you never asked me'.

From there she began to think about their love life. She rarely talked about it with her female friends because that seemed a bit tacky, and even disloyal, but she remembered a conversation with Gabriella, an old schoolfriend who had been married for about the same time. Gabby had joked over coffee one morning that she needed to celebrate since her husband had gone down on her the night before, and the way she had said it made it clear that this was pretty rare. Something in Julie's expression must have suggested surprise, and Gabriella misinterpreted it to mean that Jake never did that.

For once Julie had opened up and told her that Jake would use his tongue on her pussy almost every time they made love, and often his talented musician's fingers as well, and that he was very good at it, which was true. Gabby had been impressed but then had jumped to the conclusion that this was in return for her giving Jake regular blowjobs, which was not the case. She hadn't answered but allowed Gabriella to make that assumption. For a moment Julie had wondered whether she was missing something, as she had trouble remembering the last time she had sucked Jake's cock. Then she dismissed it from her mind. After all he could always ask if he wanted it.

Only now she thought about how she never had to ask Jake to lick her pussy. She suddenly physically cringed. How could she have been so selfish and so oblivious?

Then she recalled how Jake had asked her for sex a few days before, or at least for physical affection, and she had rejected him. Punishing him. And punishing him for what? For being human? For not always being confident? For having his insecurities?

For the first time since her marriage Julie was taking a fresh look at herself and she was not sure she liked what she saw. She had always seen herself as a good, considerate, loving wife. It must be true because Jake never complained, was an attentive and skilled lover, and was always keen to please her in the big and little things.

She would have to turn things around, get Katie on her side and then once she had Jake back, she would turn over a new leaf. And she told herself it was not all her fault. It was a bit of an overreaction on Jake's part. His pathological aversion to Henry was a bit much, over some unexplained misdeed when they had both been teenagers.

Julie then made herself get up, had a coffee, tidied up and then got a text from Katie. 'I am coming round this morning to collect Jake's things'. A bit abrupt, but the main thing was that at least she would have a chance to explain and put things right.

Not long after the doorbell rang, and she opened it to find Katie on the doorstep with two empty suitcases. Normally Katie would smile and give her a hug, but not today.

"Hi Katie, I am glad you are here. Let's have a coffee together and try and sort out this mess."

Katie looked at her as if she were some particularly exotic beetle.

"Er, no. I am just here to collect Jake's things."

She then pushed past Julie, leaving her standing bemused in the doorway.

"Look, Katie, I don't know what Jake has told you, but this is a crazy misunderstanding. If you would just give me a chance to explain."

Katie ignored her and headed for the bedroom where she began to pack Jake's clothes and other items into the suitcases. Julie was bemused. This was beginning to seem a bit ridiculous. She knew she had messed up, but this was overreacting. She backed off for the moment, and hovered in the kitchen, but when Katie came out with the suitcases she tried again.

"Please Katie. Just give me a few minutes. Just give me a chance to explain."

For a moment she thought Katie was going to ignore her, but she relented.

"OK, this had better be good."

She sat down across the kitchen table from Julie, arms crossed, head held stiffly erect and simply waited, looking at her coldly.

Suddenly Julie found it was harder than she had thought. As she explained what had happened, and her reasons for doing what she did, mentioning the importance of keeping Henry Urquhart-Drago happy so he would not pull the financial plug on the company, it began to sound rather damning, even in her own ears. The fact that Katie simply listened in icy silence without saying a word made it worse. She tailed off at the end.