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A Note & a Letter

By: Moondrift



Glen stared down at the note in his hand then looked at the envelope it had arrived in. It had been placed on the desk in his consulting room by one of the receptionists, along with the usual pile of mail – drug companies telling him of the wonder pills they had invented, reports from consultants he had referred patients to, news letters from medical organizations, all the usual daily paraphernalia that came across a doctor's desk.

He glanced at the envelope again; it bore no stamp and was simply addressed in crudely printed letters, "Dr. Glen Moore." It looked as if a child had written it.

The note itself was made up of letters cut out of a newspaper or magazine, and they read, "Why don't you ask what your wife does when you're not at home?" 

He held it between his forefinger and thumb as if it was some unpleasant polluted object; some foul thing that might infect him.

After gazing at it for a few moments he took the envelope out to reception and asked Pat, one of the receptionists, "Any idea where this came from?"

Pat looked at it and said, "It didn't come with the regular post, it was stuffed under the door this morning when we arrived, Jenny" – she indicated one of the other receptionists – "found it. Is there anything wrong?"

He shook his head and went back to his consulting room. The first patients of the day were arriving and his colleagues were already at work with those who had come to consult them. His own first patient was there in the waiting room.

He looked again at the note and muttered dismissively; "Some malicious scandalmonger trying to cause trouble," then screwing it up threw it into the wastepaper basket, and went to greet his patient.

As any gossipmonger and propagandist knows, one has often only to inject a little poison into a situation to have the malevolence take effect and then grow and increasingly infect the victim or victims. 

Throughout the morning, as Glen attended to his patients, his mind kept wandering back to the note lying in his wastepaper basket. Its influence was working even though Glen would have denied it. 

Its implication was that his wife, Rosemary, was doing something he ought to know about while he wasn't around, probably something sexual. He was dismissive of this, telling himself it was ridiculous to even contemplate such a possibility. She had been his wife, lover and friend for almost ten years, and although she was attractive and therefore drew the attentions of men, he had never for a moment suspected that these attentions were anything other than that.

He had first got to know Rosemary when he had seen her at a party soon after he had qualified. She was surrounded by young men, and he could see why. She was lively and good to look at, and although he was attracted by her he was far too shy to approach her. His problem was that he had concentrated so hard and for so many years on his studies that with one exception he had found little time to get to get to know girls.

In the end it was Rosemary who later in the evening had approached him and said, "You look a bit left out, aren't you enjoying the party?" 

He had tried to explain that he really didn't like large gatherings and preferred small groups, because you could engage in some intelligent conversation, instead of the loud voices and superficial chatter of parties. Rosemary had laughed and said, "In that case, let's go into the garden and have an ‘intelligent conversation'."

They had sat on a garden seat for a long time getting to know each other, and he had learned that she was an artist; one of the hopefuls who, as she laughing said, "Will be famous after we're dead."

Most of the guests had left by the time they had come back into the house. They said goodnight to their host and hostess and left together. Then Glen had managed to scrape up enough courage to ask Rosemary to have dinner with him later in the week, and much to his amazement she has said, "Yes."

After that it was Rosemary who really took the lead, inviting this shy young man into her bed, and although she never actually asked him to marry her, she seemed to lay the ground for him to ask. On the day they married he still could hardly believe he had won such a lovely girl.

In the ten years of their marriage he had found little cause for complaint. They each had their professions, but Rosemary had her studio in their house, and had made no objection to running the house as well as doing her work. Glen had often told himself and others he was an extremely fortunate man.

The one blot on the horizon of their happiness was their inability to produce a child. Why this was so was a mystery because one of Glen's colleagues, Trish, had carried out tests on them only to find there was no apparent reason why Rosemary could not get pregnant. In fact they were at the moment talking about the IVF programme, but nothing had yet been decided. 

When lunch time came he took the note out of the wastepaper basket and sat looking at it. He knew quite well he should throw it away again, but the poison was working. He first of all tried to remember if he or Rosemary had offended anyone to the point where they would send such a note as an act of revenge. He could think of no one. 

Then he started to review his marriage; had anything changed lately? Were there any signs of a cooling off between him and Rosemary, any hint that all was not well? Again he could think of nothing. 

This time he did not throw the note away, instead he thrust it into his pocket. During the afternoon consultations he found he was not concentrating properly on what his patients were telling him which was most unusual for him.

Over the following days he tried to push thoughts of the note and its implications out of his head, nevertheless the note was still in his jacket pocket. He seemed to catch himself almost unawares looking at Rosemary, trying to detect anything that might suggest all was not well.

The contents of the note had made no direct accusation; "Why don't you ask what your wife does when you're not at home?" it read, yet it seemed to him clear that it implied Rosemary was up to something deceitful in his absence.

It was as if he had swallowed a parasite that was starting to eat away inside him and as the days passed it ate deeper and deeper. The words seemed to haunt him and several times he came near to confronting Rosemary, but he held back thinking that no matter how he put the question it would sound as if he was accusing her of something.

As lovers they had always been frequent and ardent in their coupling, but now Glen found himself holding back from Rosemary, thinking what he had always believed was the unthinkable; was there perhaps someone else? Was another man's penis making free with her vagina?

Unable to open the matter with Rosemary, Glen realised he had to talk with someone. Of all the people he knew the one he felt he could trust the most was his colleague Trish. She was the one girl in all the years of his studies that he had got to know. They had studied and qualified together, and by pure chance both had started working in the same practice. 

After evening surgery he went to her room and asked if she had time for a talk. She readily agreed and he sat down with her. Without saying a word he took out the note and handed it to her.

She studied it for a few moments, and then asked, "Have you got any reason to suspect Rosemary is getting up to something behind your back?"

"Apart from the note, no."

"You haven't noticed anything…anything different about your relationship?"

"No, except that…" he hesitated."

"Except what, Glen?"

"I'm…er…I'm finding it difficult to…er…make love with Rosemary."

Trish looked at him keenly the said, "This note really has got to you."

This irritated Glen and he snapped, "Why else do you think I'm talking about it with you?"

"You're not talking to me about the note."

"Of course I am."

"No, you've shown me the note, but haven't said a word about what you think it might mean."

"It's obvious isn't it?"

"Is it? Then tell me what's obvious."

"Well, it's suggesting that Rosemary is…is…"

"Say it like you're thinking it, Glen."

"Is fucking with someone else." 

"So that's how you interpret it?"

"Is there any other way?"

"On the face of it probably not."

Then Trish seemed to go off at a tangent. "You've always wanted to have children." It was not a question but a statement.

"You know we have."

"Why haven't you got any then?"

"Well because…because…I don't know."

"We both know there's no physical reason why Rosemary can't get pregnant."

"Are you suggesting there's another reason?"

"Yes, I am suggesting there might be another reason." 

Trish seemed to go off on another tangent. "I don't know if you're aware of it, and if you're not I probably shouldn't tell you this, but I happen to know that Rosemary has been seeing a doctor in the Parkside group practice."

Glen was amazed by this revelation; "But that's ridiculous, you've been her doctor since we got married."

"So you didn't know?"

"Of course not."

Trish switched back to the subject of the note. "Look, Glen, this thing is eating away at you. You've got to talk to Rosemary about it; if you let it run on it's not going to get better, only worse."

"How can I go to Rosemary with that piece of filth and ask, "Is there anything I should know, darling? It will be as good as accusing her of something."

"Glen, I don't know if you're trying to fool me or yourself, but whether you admit it or not, and without any solid proof you can come up with, the suspicion is there."

"I can't front Rosemary about it."

"All right, Glen, then I can't help you any more. You either get it out in the open with Rosemary or learn to live with suspicion and hope it will go away eventually."

"I'll think about it."

"You do that Glen. You're a bloody good bloke and a bloody good doctor, and I don't want to see either of those things spoiled, which they will be if you let this matter run on."

He rose, and repeating, "I'll think about it," thanked her, kissed her on the cheek, and left.

He did think about it; he couldn't help thinking about it no matter how he tried to repress the thoughts. The note and its contents were beginning to fill his whole mental horizon. 

Rosemary, noticing the fall off in his libido and how morose he had become, asked him if anything was wrong. This was an opportunity to bring the matter out with her, but he still avoided it, muttering something about a heavy workload.

The crisis came when of all times he was on his way to indulge in one of his hobbies, bird watching. He had Tuesdays off from work and as he frequently did on those days, he was driving to the hills and the birds. He had reached the beginning of a hills track and just got out of his car, when something seemed to explode in his head.

"I can't bloody well deal this any longer," he said out loud, then thought, "I've got to front her; I've got to know…to get at the truth."

He got back into his car and began the drive home. He felt sick and there was a buzzing noise in his ears. When he was just one street away from his house he noticed a car he recognised. "I wonder what Alan is doing over here at this time of day?"

Alan was one of the local bank managers; he and his wife Stephanie were friends of Rosemary and himself.

He pulled into the drive and let himself in through the front door. He expected Rosemary to be working in her studio, but as he approached it he heard a sudden scuffling and whispering from their bedroom.

Wondering if Rosemary had been taken ill and someone was there with her he entered the bedroom. That there had been someone with her was obvious at a glance. Rosemary was all but naked and was struggling to get a pair of panties on. On the floor lay a pair of men's socks and the curtains over an open window were billowing lightly in the breeze.

There was a shocked silence for nearly a minute. They stood staring at each other; Rosemary's face was white and she was trembling; Glen could smell the distinctive fishy odour of sex.

He felt a cold calm take hold of him and he said, "When you've finished dressing we'll talk," and picking up the socks he went on, "I'll give Alan back his socks when I see him."

He went into the lounge and waited his face white and tense. At that moment he seemed to have no feelings; it was as if his emotions had gone into deep freeze.

After about five minutes Rosemary came in. She had dressed and looked defensively truculent. 

"Well?"

"Why?"

"I fancied him."

"You fancied him! Married yourself and him a married man and you just fancied him?"

"It happens."

"I know it happens and has happened, I want to know why. Are you going to go off with him?"

"Don't be so bloody stupid; we were just having a…a…a…"

"A bit on the side."

"If you must put it like that."

"Is there another way?"

"Don't be so bloody pompous."

"Did he use a condom…did you consider you might get pregnant to him?"

"Of course I thought about getting pregnant, I'm not an idiot."

"No, just a…" Glen was about to say slut but instead said, "An adulteress."

"Oh my God we are being medieval. What are you going to do, burn me at the stake?"

"So he did wear a condom?"

Rosemary made no answer.

"What did he do, run off still wearing it?"

"No."

"He didn't wear one, did he?"

"No."

"What were you going to do if you got pregnant with him, tell me the baby was mine?"

"I can't get pregnant, you know that."

"I know no such thing. As we've both been told, there's no reason why you shouldn't get pregnant."

"Well, I'm not going to get pregnant, so let's drop the subject."

It suddenly dawned on Glen what Trish had meant when she had mentioned Rosemary seeing a doctor in the Parkside practice. "You've been seeing a doctor at Parkside, haven't you?"

"So what, I don't have to stick with the doctors in your practice."

"How long have you been seeing this doctor?"

"Mind your own damned business."

"I rather think it is my business."

"Look, you caught me out having sex with Alan; it was the only time and it won't happen again, so why can't we leave it there."

Some of Rosemary's truculence had diminished and she now began to look anxious, and when Glen said, "I'm going to have a talk with Alan," what was left of her defiance collapsed.

"For God's sake Glen, don't do that. It was just once and if his wife finds out there'll be all hell let loose. It was just a casual thing…just the once, he's got children and…and Stephanie's my best friend."

"So that's how you treat your best friends. I'm still going to have a talk with him; I'll arrange to meet him somewhere away from Stephanie and the kids. I intend to tell him to stay away from you. After that he can tell his wife or not, but whatever he does I think you can be sure our friendship with them will be at an end."

"No, please Glen, let it drop…I told you it won't happen again…please darling…"

The endearment did not touch Glen and he went to the telephone and rang the bank. After a considerable wait he finally got through to a muffled voiced Alan.

"Alan, you and I have got to have a talk; I don't need to tell you what about, do I?"

"No mumbled Alan...but do we need to…"

"Yes, we do. I'll let you choose the place for our talk, but talk we will even if I have to come to your house."

"No! For God's sake don't do that; I'll meet you at your house if you like." 

"I thought you might like it to be somewhere neutral, but my house is fine. What time?"

"I can get there in an hour."

"Good, your socks will be waiting for you, and anything else you left behind."

Putting the receiver on the cradle Glen poured him self a whisky and sat down to await events. Rosemary had left the room but after a while came back in. 

She sat and in a submissive voice said, "We can get over this, can't we darling? We've been so good together; we can put this behind us."

"How long have you been taking the pill?"

"What?"

Very carefully and distinctly Glen repeated, "How long have you been taking the pill?"

"I haven't."

"Don't lie to me, Rosemary. If I choose to have a good search around I expect I'll find them, so how long?"

"How do you know I have?"

"You admitted that Alan wasn't wearing a condom; you said you wouldn't get pregnant with him; you've been seeing a doctor on the quiet, so I think it adds up to your being on the pill."

Rosemary made no reply.

"All this time I've thought we were trying to have a baby and you've been on the pill. It hasn't been enough to deceive me with Alan; you had to deceive me over that as well. Why?"

Rosemary's defiant mood returned. "I'm not going to be interrogated by you as if I was a spy or a criminal. What I do with my body is my affair."

"Very well, Rosemary, I can't force you to answer, but the fact that you don't answer is an answer in itself."

"You really are a self righteous bastard Glen, sitting there in judgement on me. Are you going to tell me you've never hidden anything from me…perhaps you've had your ‘bit on the side' as well."

"If it is still of any interest to you Rosemary, there was no one before you and there's been no one since."

"So I slip up once and the Puritan points the finger."

"I think we might delay this conversation until after I've talked with Alan; he'll be here shortly."

Rosemary looked startled at this announcement and said, "I'm not staying for that."

"No, I didn't think you would."

Rosemary left the room again and soon after Glen heard her car start and drive off. He sat silent, waiting for Alan.

Despite the outward calm he had managed to maintain, inside all was in turmoil. His world seemed to be falling apart around him. The trust and fidelity that he had thought existed between Rosemary and him self lay in ruins. 

The plans they had made that he thought she shared with him had been a lie. Having caught her out in two deceitful actions how could he ever trust her again? She had said they could get over this, but he didn't know. Was his love for her strong enough to accept and deal with this? 

Lost in the darkness and tumult of his mind he was unaware of what was around him until suddenly he was jerked back to consciousness by the ringing of the door bell.

"Alan." He half wished he'd accepted Rosemary's pleading for him not to see Alan, but it was too late now. He went to the door and admitted a hangdog Alan. They went into the lounge and Glen indicated that Alan should sit.

He threw the pair of socks over saying, "There's your socks," is there anything else you've left behind?"

"No," mumbled Alan.

"I'm sorry our friendship has to end like this, Alan, but I'd like to know how this thing got started."

"At a party a couple of years ago."

Glen shot upright in his chair; "What?"

"You were away at a conference and…well…I kissed Rosemary and….well…one thing led to another and…"

"A couple of years ago?"

"Yes."

"So today wasn't the first time?"

Alan looked confused and halting asked, "Is that what Rosemary said?"

"Yes. Who started it, who initiated it the first time?"

Alan struggled to reply and then said, "Stephanie and the kids were away visiting Stephanie's mother for a week, so Rosemary said, "What about coming back to my place…so…"

"So you came back again and again?"

"Yes."

"How did you arrange it…the times I mean?"

"Well, you're nearly always out doing your bird watching on Tuesday, so Tuesday was my day."

"Your day?"

"Yes…"

"Why your day?"

"Well, I had to fit in with…"

Alan stopped speaking and Glen asked, "Fit in with what?"

"Well, your times at the practice."

"Don't giver me that crap Alan. You know quite well Tuesday is my day off and you'd have been much safer when I was at work, so why Tuesdays and what did it fit in with?"


A Note & a Letter Ch. 02



In the weeks and months that followed Glen's and Sarah's declaration of their love for each other Glen often remembered Rosemary's words, "Why don't you piss off and find yourself a nice little virtuous young maiden who'll keep her legs closed to everyone except you...if you can find one."

"Almost prophetic words," Glen thought.

Glen returned to working in the practice while Sarah stayed at Rascals Point. He went to see her as often as he could and occasionally Sarah came to the city and stayed a few days with Trish and Ron. Seeing each other only intermittently was difficult, but what really pushed up the frustration level was the time they would have to wait before they got married. 

Although Glen had walked away from Rosemary, and as the pain he had felt over her betrayals had now, in the light of his new found love, diminished, Rosemary still haunted him. She was like a niggling pain that would not go away.

The first reason for this arose from the house. He wanted to sell it, but as she was part owner he needed her agreement. Having disappeared into the ether with Alan he had no means of getting in touch with her. 

The police were of course still seeking Alan in connection with the missing money from the bank, but he seemed to have gone to ground in some remote spot. It was thought that he and Rosemary might have fled abroad, but that had yet to be confirmed.

In addition, if Glen wanted to be divorced it would be possible in Rosemary's absence, but it would be easier if she was contactable. 

Yet a further reason why Rosemary continued to trouble him, although Glen would have denied it, might be roughly described as emotional. You do not easily cast off a person with whom you have shared many years of your life, especially if that sharing had included sex. 

About six month's into Glen's and Sarah's engagement, a new anxiety arose. Sarah began to look pale and drawn and lose weight. Normally only of slight build, the loss of weight began to look serious. As a doctor Glen could have examined her himself, but he knew that if he did so he might make a subjective diagnosis, so Sarah went off to the local GP accompanied by her mother Linda.

On his next visit to Rascals Point an anxious Glen was met by a hesitant Linda.

Much to Glen's relief she was able to say that the doctor had found no physical problem; the trouble lay elsewhere.

It took a couple of minutes for Linda to get around to saying what she wanted to say.

"Look, I know the decision you and Sarah have made regarding sex, but the frustration is beginning to take its toll of Sarah. I don't want to interfere Glen, but I thought I'd better speak out because Sarah won't. She's never been in love like this before, never felt for anyone like she feels for you." 

"I can speak as a woman and know what it's like to want a man like you've never wanted anything before. Every time you two are together she's in a state of sexual frustration. She's not been like a lot of other girls, having casual affairs, she's always said that she would wait for the man she really loved, and she's found him. She's young and fertile, Glen, she needs you."

"But Linda, I told Sarah I'd wait..."

"I know what you said, Glen, Sarah told me, and she loved you even more for that, but at the time she didn't fully understand what sexual frustration can do to a woman. We're not naïve, Steve and me, if you'll talk to Sarah, ask her if she wants to change her mind about holding off, you can always have a double room when you come here."

"We're concerned for our girl, Glen; she needs you, and I expect you need her." 

She looked at Glen questioningly for a moment, then cautiously asked, "You do want her like that...I mean some men..."

"Yes of course I want her like that." He smiled at her and said, "Perhaps you'd better ask Steve what it's like for men to wait."

Linda blushed slightly but said nothing about having been pregnant when she and Steve had married.

"I'm not telling you what to do, Glen, but at least talk to Sarah."

"I will," he said solemnly.

It was during one of their beach walks that Glen broached the subject. After expressing his concern for her debilitated condition, he told her of Linda's talk with him, ending by asking, "Would you like us to start making love before we get married?"

She stopped walking and leaned into him, burying her face against him and saying in a muffled voice, "Yes, darling."

He kissed her and she looked up at him and asked, "You won't think I'm a slut, will you?"

He wondered why this sensitive girl almost broke his heart at times. Perhaps it was her very simplicity, but it made him feel protective in a way he had never felt with Rosemary. "This is a flower to be carefully nurtured," he thought.

It was decided that they would make love for the first time that night. Since Sarah was not on the pill they walked back through the town where Glen purchased some condoms. Back at the hotel Glen let Linda know what they intended, and since he always occupied a double room, the one used by Trish and Ron when they visited, Sarah was able to come to him there.

"Be very gentle with her," Linda pleaded. "She knows she will be hurt, but do it quickly."

"I will," he replied.

They went to bed early, and as Glen undressed her and touched her small, round naked breasts for the first time, Sarah said shyly, "They're not very big, are they?"

He had a momentary vision of Rosemary's sumptuous swelling mounds with their long firm nipples and Stars substantial mammary glands, and he decided he preferred Sarah's modest bosom with their small rose pink nipples.

"Perhaps they'll get bigger when I put some weight back on," Sarah murmured.

Glen smiled, kissed her and said, "I won't be marrying you for the size of your breasts, darling, it will be for what you are."

He kissed her again and then lifted her on to the bed. Sarah said uncertainly, "Glen, I don't really know what to do."

"It's all right, my love, just leave it to me."

That night and for some time to come this was going to be no scorching union with all the refinements of love making. These might come with time as they explored each other, discovering what each liked and what they would allow. 

As he leaned on his elbow looking at Sarah, he was even more aware of how slender she was. This was exaggerated by her loss of weight and she made him feel heavy, clumsy and fearful of crushing her. 

He bent over her and kissed her, cupping her breast as he did so. He slewed his lips over hers without trying to enter her mouth with his tongue. Her lips were soft, moist, and responsive to the touch of his.

"How I shall enjoy teaching her the ways of love," he thought, and visualised the endless pleasures they would give each other.

He moved down to kiss her nipples and at the same time touched and began to softly massage her vulva. He moved a finger to enter her vaginal canal and felt the slight resistance of her hymen.

Beginning to gently circle her clitoris with his finger Sarah began to sigh and then to make soft whimpering sounds of pleasure.

"Do it to me now," she whispered, and as he rolled the condom on to his penis Sarah placed a towel under her buttocks. No doubt Linda had given her daughter some good advice.

He carefully probed for her vaginal entrance and Sarah said, "Do it quickly, darling."

He thrust firmly into her. She jerked and gave a little scream, her arms clutching round him convulsively. He was through and pushing to her depths. 

He understood the pain he had caused her and he asked, "Do you want me to stop?" 

"No darling, don't stop, finish first."

It did not take long. He came quickly, wishing it was into Sarah he was spurting his seed instead of a condom. "That will come in good time, he thought."

He did not stay long inside her since he knew she would be sore. As he withdrew Sarah said, "Thank you, my love."

He removed the blood and semen stained condom while Sarah went to the bathroom to wash her vagina. The towel with the patch of blood on it was removed, and they lay embracing each other. 

Sarah curled against him and Glen felt as if he was holding a child. Sarah slept, but Glen was awake long that night thinking about the life that lay ahead of them, and the difficulties they must surmount before that life could begin properly. 

For two more days Glen did not try to copulate with Sarah since she was still sore from her deflowering. On the third day he had to return to his practice, so it was in the early morning they made love. Sarah had no orgasm but she seemed very content.

After this first pain free coupling she sighed and said, "It's more beautiful than I ever imagined, will you do it with me often?"

Glen smile and replied, "Very often, my love."

Sarah went on to the pill the following week, and it was a fortnight before Glen could join her again and yet another two weeks before he could cease using a condom. Even these few sexual unions seemed to have had a positive effect on Sarah; the signs of stress disappeared and she began to put on weight. Even her prediction about her breasts came true, but they did not so much grow in size as become firmer, standing out proudly, their pink nipples looking ripe and luscious.

It took some time for Sarah to have her first orgasm, and Glen was amazed to learn that it was indeed her first orgasm, since she had never masturbated.

As the first indications of an approaching orgasm made its self felt, Sarah had grown frightened, not knowing what was happening to her. She had begged Glen to stop, but he reassured her saying, "It's all right, darling, this is what should happen."

He released his sperm into her so that it chimed in with her climax, and little thing that she was, she became like a raging tigress, screaming for him to come into her deeper and never to stop. 

It was after this that she asked, "We will have babies one day, won't we, my love?"

Glen assured her he would do his best to bring about this desirable goal. If all was not perfect for them, at least there was a deep contentment, each feeling that they had found a completely compatible sexual partner. Sarah had almost recovered and Glen did his work with joy, knowing that he now had something...someone...to work for. 

Then one morning the media shrieked, "Bank Embezzler Arrested," "Disguise Penetrated by Observant Police Sergeant in Country Town." 

They had caught Alan, but there was no mention of Rosemary. Glen actually made enquiries though a local police sergeant who was by way of being a friend."

"No," the sergeant said, "She wasn't with him when they arrested him. Of course, they weren't interested in her so nothing further was done."

"But won't they want her as a witness?"

The sergeant shrugged; "That'll be up to the crown prosecutor. But what could she tell him? What they've got on him will probably be sufficient."

There the matter rested until Glen received another letter that marked a stage in his life.

"Dearest Glen," it began. "You will probably never want to see me again and may not even read this letter, but I felt I wanted to write and tell you I often think of you and wish that things could have been different.

That bastard Alan left me a few weeks after we had run away together. By then I knew the police were after him and in a way it was a relief to be rid of him. The trouble is he left me with nothing. I'm stuck in this bloody back of nowhere town eking out a living doing odd jobs in the one and only restaurant in the place, and making what I can how I can."

Glen thought he knew how she would be "making what" she could, and muttered to himself, "She's had plenty of practice."

The letter went on, "I know you will probably say no, but I wondered if you would send me some money. I put a lot into our marriage financially, and I think you owe me something."

Glen felt that her claim that she had put in a lot financially was a gross exaggeration since her art work had brought in next to nothing, but he read on.

"You probably won't believe this, darling, but I often think of our time together and deeply regret my behaviour. If only I could have that time over again how differently I would behave. I often pray for a miracle, and you will come and find me and forgive me, and we could be together again."

"About the only time you have prayed," thought Glen.

The letter ended, "If not out of love, then at least for the sake of the good times we had together, please send me something to go on with, and you might even see your way clear to making me some sort of allowance. My address is the one above. All my love Rosemary."

Glen's immediate reaction was to be angry at this mixture of love declaration, begging and demanding. Maturer consideration softened him. 

He remembered the tragic Star; "The fallen Star" he often thought of her as. Perhaps a sympathetic hand, rather than the penis she had requested, might have saved her. The years with Rosemary began to weigh with him and he found he couldn't simply shrug her off. She was after all still his wife and would remain so until he divorced her. 

He decided he would respond to her letter as compassionately as he could, yet at the same time leaving her in no doubt about how things stood. 

"Dear Rosemary, Enclosed you will find a cheque that will tide you over for a while. I cannot see my way clear to making you an ongoing allowance unless the court demands it of me." 

"It is my wish to sell the house but I need your agreement to do so. Should you agree I will share the proceeds with you fairly, or, if you choose to take the matter to court, as directed."

"Enclosed with this letter you will find the necessary papers for you to sign giving your permission to sell."

"There is no chance of our ever getting together again and it is my intention to begin divorce proceedings as soon as possible." 

"I think it would be better for both our sakes if we do not correspond directly again, or see each other. I suggest that all future contact be through my solicitor, and your's if you have one."

"I wish you no harm and hope you will be able to make a satisfactory life.

Glen."

As Glen suspected, he heard no more from Rosemary directly. She did however agree to the sale. The personal things she had left behind were sent to her and, after the sale, an agreed amount of money. No court proceedings took place.

The divorce went through and he and Sarah were able to set a date for their wedding. 

All seemed to be serene, at least it was until it came to deciding where they should live.

The matter is simply stated; Sarah wanted to live at Rascals Point; Glen wanted to live near his practice and near his practice was not Rascals Point.

For once Sarah was adamant; she would not live in the city; she hated the city; and if Glen loved her...!

Glen was amazed at the ferocity with which she took her stand, and in response he took a hard line himself. As so often he turned to Trish, now the mother of a near one year old, in his dilemma.

For once in her dealings with Glen's difficulties she laughed.

"You thought our little Sarah was always going to be nice and compliant, did you?"

"No...but she just doesn't see my point of..."

"Do you still love her, Glen?"

"Of course I do but..."

"She still loves you, Glen but it doesn't mean she's always going to go along with what you want. She knows you love her and that's why she feels secure in putting forward her wishes so strongly. You might get her to back down in the end, but I think it would come at a price. She's young and as afar as I can see has denied you nothing; you're the mature one in this relationship and you can afford to be amenable without feeling you've lost, but if she gives in to you she will feel defeated over the matter.  

"But I've got to make a living, Trish."

"Good God, Glen, you're an intelligent man, you know you don't have to be here to make a living."

"No, but I'm hardly likely to make one at Rascals Point, am I. Anyway, Rascals Point has already got a doctor."

"Yes, but you know the story, there have been enough appeals. The rural areas are desperate to get more doctors but no one wants to go to the country. We like the convenience of having the specialists close at hand, and the well equipped hospitals, and let's be frank, the social and entertainment possibilities of the city. I'll bet that poor guy at Rascals Point is over his head with work. By the way, if you're concerned about the money, have you read this?"

She handed him some sheets of paper with a government heading. In summary it was stating that the government was prepared to make a liberal subsidy to doctors prepared to take up practice in the rural areas. 

Trish sat back and smiled, "Now what's your excuse, Doctor Milton?"

Glen grinned rather sheepishly, "Missing you and Ron for a start."

"Oh don't be so silly Glen. After all, when you and Sarah marry we're going to be relatives, and we do go to Rascals Point quite regularly; and by the way, does the offer to be godfather to the baby still stand?"

"Of course it does."

"Then get on and marry Sarah because we've got to have the baptism soon."

They laughed and as Glen went to leave her she kissed him on the cheek and said, "You're a dammed good doctor and a lovely bloke, Glen, but at times you can be so dumb. I'm so glad you'll have Sarah to look after you."

"But I'm supposed to look after her."

"That's what you think, Glen."

It would be nice if I could tell the whole life story of Sarah and Glen, but I can't because I don't know it.

This much I do know; they got married, they live in Rascals Point where Glen has a practice; there have been two children both girls and they are set for another try to see if they can get a boy.

Are they going to live happily ever after – go swanning through their days as if on a placid lake? I doubt it; like the rest of us the waters at times will become rough, but how they are weathered depends on the depth of love and commitment. 



A Note & a Letter



"Look Glen, for your own sake leave it at that."

"I don't want to leave it at that. There's something more going on, isn't there?"

"No."

"You're a bloody liar Alan, and if you won't tell me I'll find out some other way."

Alan hesitated, struggling to make up his mind if he should speak out, and then said, "Okay, if you must know Glen, I'm not the only one."

"You lying bastard…"

"Hey, I'm prepared to take the berating of an outraged husband, but I'm not going to accept being called a lying bastard. If you want to know Rosemary screws around with anyone she fancies. If you don't believe me I can give you names and the times Rosemary is with them. Go and ask the other guys…ask anyone who knows Rosemary."

Glen seemed to hear Alan's voice as if coming from a long way off as he went on, "I've been here for a couple of hours nearly every Tuesday, except when Rosemary telephoned me to say you weren't going out. I never came at other times because she was…"

Glen heard his own voice as if it belonged to someone else; "Fuck off and don't ever let me see you again, not ever…"

Alan needed no second bidding; he fled carrying his socks with him.

Glen was in shock, unable to move, to think. He sat; his eyes staring unseeing at a spot on the wall. How long he sat like that he never knew; time had no meaning for him. He didn't hear Rosemary's car arrive or the front door being opened and closed. His first awareness of her presence was when she spoke, and even then her words did not seem to register.

"I saw his car had gone so I thought we…"

Glen had risen and his unseeing eyes were turned in her direction rather like a blind man trying to detect the whereabouts of another person. A tremor of fear knifed through Rosemary. "Don't look at me like that, Glen, you're frightening me. What did he say…what did he tell you…he's a liar you know, he'd say any…thing…" her voice trailed away.

Between clenched teeth he said, "Is it true?"

"Is...is what true?"

"You've been fucking with him for two years and you've had other men here as well?"

"I told you, he'd say anything, he…"

"I can find out, it won't be difficult, I can…"

"For God's sake, don't do that…please darling…don't…the trouble…"

"So it is true?"

She said nothing.

"There's nothing you want to say to me? No reason?"

She took on the air of truculence again; "All right, you want reasons; I like to fuck; I like change; I want to know what it's like with other men; the same man all the time gets boring; I need change, variety. There, are those reasons enough for you?"

"You're sick."

"Yes, doctor, I'm sick…sick of you and your bloody fidelity and pious self righteousness, and I'm sick of standing here being interrogated by you. Why don't you piss off and find yourself a nice little virtuous young maiden who'll keep her legs closed to everyone except you…if you can find one."

She laughed and went on, "You're a bloody doctor and you don't even know the half of it," she sneered. "You've got no idea what's going on right under your nose…not even in your own house. Wake up mister upright self-satisfied doctor; all that's happened is a bit of the real world has caught up with you."

He looked at her long and hard for a moment and then said, "Is that all…is there anything else?" 

"For the time being. If I think of anything else I'll let you know."

"There's no more ‘time being' for you and me, Rosemary; you can think of anything you like, but I won't be around to hear it."

"Why, what are you going to do?" There was a touch of fear in her voice again.

"I'm going to leave…I'll pack now and leave…"

"You can't do that, you know I need…I'm your wife and…"

"It's a pity you didn't remember that before."

"You leave and I'll take you for everything you've got; and what about your beloved medical practice…all those physical and emotional cripples you dose up with your pills and potions, are you going to leave them too?"

Glen had enough awareness to know when he was being deliberately provoked, so he said nothing, and turning on his heel he went to the telephone and dialled Trish's number.

When she answered he asked, "Can I come and talk?" 

She asked no questions but simply said, "Of course, come on over."

Glen packed what he thought he might need for a few days and saying, "I'll send for the rest of my things later," he left. It was in fact the last time Rosemary ever saw him.

He drove to Trish's house and the door was answered by her husband Ron. He was clearly expecting him and said, "Come on in, Glen, Trish is in her study."

Entering the study Trish came to him and kissed him on the cheek and said, "Its Rosemary isn't it?"

"Yes, I've found out…"

"Oh darling I'm so sorry."

"You knew?"

"I'm afraid a lot of people know, Glen. Rosemary might have thought she was being subtle, but people notice things."

"The husband is always the last to know…why didn't you tell me?"

"How could I? I had no proof; probably no one had real proof, and even if they did how could they come and tell you?"

"Someone did."

"The note?"

"Yes. If it hadn't been for the note I'd have gone on thinking that all was well, that I had a marvellous marriage."

"What are you going to do?"

"I've left her. If it had been just…well, the one guy I almost caught her with, we might have been able to go on, but all the others…and she's been taking the pill…that's what you were trying to tell me, wasn't it?"

"Yes, I didn't know for sure, but adding everything up I strongly suspected. Where are you going to stay?"

"I don't know I haven't had time to think. I'll probably go to a hotel."

"No you won't, you're not going to be on your own, not for the next few days. You'll stay here."

"But I can't impose like…"

"Yes you can."

"That's just like Trish," he thought. He remembered the years they had been together when they were studying. She was the only girl on the course, or anywhere else for that matter, to whom he had related. They had looked out for each other, helped each other, and on one occasion his mother had said, "She's the girl you should marry," but it hadn't been like that between them. 

There was love between them but it was not the sort of love that led them into a sexual relationship and marriage. It had been Ron who had won her hand and Glen had been happy for them both. 

Now as he sat with Trish he began to wonder, did Trish…was she faithful? Was Ron? Was anyone? "You don't know the half of it," Rosemary had said; had he been so blind, so stupidly naïve to believe in marital fidelity? Was everyone crawling into each other's beds?

He didn't know anymore; perhaps he was so embedded in what Rosemary had called his pills and potions he had shut out many of the realities of the world. Had he wanted life and the world to be one way and had shut anything that said to the contrary?

He had somehow retained a calm exterior right from the start, but now humiliation and wretchedness overwhelmed him; he broke down and wept.

Trish held him and as he calmed Ron was standing there with a glass of whisky. "Drink this," he said, and laid a hand on Glen's shoulder.

Glen stayed with Trish and Ron for nearly a week. They let him talk him self out as he repeatedly related what had happened. It was as if someone close to him had died, and in a way that was true, something and someone had died, but not in the physical sense, and in a way this was worse.

Trish was his doctor and she had realised he was in no fit state to see patients. Glen knew that marriages often broke up, but for him it was not just the breakdown of his marriage, it was as if his whole life had collapsed. That he had been so blind was mortifying, but that he had placed so much emphasis on his marriage and the plans he thought he had shared with Rosemary, was devastating.

He felt even worse when he learned that Trish was to have baby. He wanted to be happy for Trish and Ron, but his own feelings of deprivation seemed to stand in the way, and knowing he was being self-centred he felt guilty. 

Towards the end of his stay with Trish and Ron, Trish saw Glen was still not fit to return to work. She suggested he might get away for a while but Glen was past the point of caring where he was. It was Ron who came up with a firm suggestion.

"How would you like to go and spend a week or two at Rascals Point? My sister Linda and her husband Steve have got a small pub there with some limited accommodation. A change, sea air, getting away from here for a couple of weeks, it'll do you good." Trish reinforced this idea, pointing out that a locum had been brought into the practice to fill in for Glen.

Glen agreed with no great enthusiasm, but one morning, his luggage in the back of the car, he drove out of the city and along the coast road. As he left the suburbs behind his mood seemed to lighten a trifle and he actually began to enjoy the drive. 

Rascals Point was about four hundred kilometres from the city and he had never been there before. At first his journey took him through flat country with mangroves edging the sea on one side and cereal growing on the other. Then the road began to wind its way through hills with views of the sea appearing intermittently.

After about five hours of driving he came to the brow of a hill, and what he saw beyond caused him to pull the car to the side of the road and stop. He got out and walked to the edge of what looked like a cliff. 

It was in fact not a cliff but a very steep hill with a corkscrew-like road that ran down into the town that he could see below. The town itself seemed to nestle between the hill where he stood and the tree covered hills rearing up on the other side of a valley. He could see people like ants in the main street of the town and vehicles moving like beetles.

He got into the car and drove on down the winding road. At one of the bends that almost turned back on its self he had a moment's desire to drive straight over the edge, sending himself into oblivion, but the moment passed and he drove on until the road straightened and entered the town. 

He found the Rascals Point Hotel standing half way along Kings Parade, the main street. He parked in front and entered the hotel. There was small reception foyer with a desk, but no one was in sight. He could hear the rumble of voices and occasional burst of laughter that came from what he took to be the bar. He rang the small bell on the desk and after about a minute a girl about twenty years of age came.

"Can I help you?"

"I've got a booking…I'm a friend of Trish and Ron and…"

"Ah, yes, Doctor Moore. We're expecting you; just a minute, I'll get dad."

She left and quickly came back with a powerfully built man in his mid forties. He extended his hand saying, "Doctor Moore, you're very welcome; I'm Steve Hardcastle. You've met my daughter Sarah? The wife's out at the moment but I'll introduce her later. I'll get my son Harry to help with your luggage. Sorry it's so informal but we don't get many people staying here, they mostly go to the motel. I've got to get back to the bar, I'll see you later." 

Informal it might have been but Glen found it rather pleasant when compared with the stiff receptions one experienced in most hotels. 

Sarah had him fill in the hotel register and as he completed it a younger replica of Steve came in and this time Sarah made the introductions, there was more handshaking, this time rather like the grip of a hungry crocodile, and between them the luggage was brought in.

He was led to a room and as Sarah opened the door she said, "This is the room that Trish and Uncle Ron always have when they come here." It was furnished in a slightly old fashioned but intimate and comfortable manner and he noted it had a double bed. This gave rise to associations that he didn't want to remember. 

Harry put down the luggage he was carrying, and saying, "I'll see you later," he left.

Sarah was telling him about meal times and pointing out that as he was the only guest there could be some latitude regarding times of meals and menu as long as he would tell them in advance what he wanted. She smiled and repeated what her father had already said; "We don't get many guests these days." 

After pointing out where the toilet and bathroom were she excused herself saying, "If you want anything there is a bell, but you might find it better to come to the bar and see Harry or father." She laughed and said, "You might get quicker service that way."

Glen smiled his acknowledgement and Sarah, leaving behind a delicate fragrance in the air, went.

Glen set about distributing his things around the room and when he had finished he lay on the bed for a while thinking but trying not to. He contemplated the paradox that so often the things we want to remember can be so hard to recall and those things we would rather forget seem to intrude constantly.

An image of Rosemary rose up in his mind, but not only Rosemary. It was an image of her in bed copulating with Alan; it might have been anyone of the men she had been with, but Alan was the one he actually knew.

The torment of this image caused him to cry out her name, "Rosemary…Rosemary…" He thought that this image would haunt him for ever. He knew people, especially those who at the moment had nothing they wanted to or needed to forget would in their superficial way say, "Forget about it and move on." It was easy to be stoical on behalf of another when you had no need to be stoical yourself.

He tried to remember if he had ever been guilty of saying such things to his patients, but he didn't think so. In the days when he had thought himself to be a happy contented man he was still aware of the chains that can bind the mind; chains that could enslave a person to the point where they become immobilised in the midst of life.

He didn't want to cry but he nevertheless did, weeping for his lost contentment and wondering if he would ever again be fit to pursue his profession. Could he help people when he could not help himself? "Physician heal thyself." The words were like a whip lash.

At one time he had appeared as the physician in an amateur performance of Macbeth. Now he remembered the words he had spoken in reply to Macbeth's question, could he cure Lady Macbeth of her madness; "Therein the patient must minister to himself." 

He was a doctor and knew about the pills and potions, the tranquillizers and psychological techniques. These might obscure the pain, leaving one in a half world between sleep and waking, but in the end the patient must minister to himself. 

But how to minister? 

The chains that bound his mind were those images of Rosemary in her lovers' arms, images that stalked his days and invaded his dreams at night. There might come moments of forgetfulness, but they were brief. The images came flooding back again unbidden and unwanted. It was like a wound that would not heal.

He dozed off and as it always was now there were the dreams of Rosemary. He was wakened by a tap on his door. He shook off his drowsiness, swung his legs off the bed and called, "Come in."

Sarah's head came round the door; "You ordered your dinner for six o'clock, it's after six now. He apologised and she smiled. "Don't want it to spoil," she said. "Do you want me to show you where the dining room is?"

"Yes…yes…if you don't mind. He still felt drowsy and his clothes were crumpled, but he had no desire to change."

He followed Sarah down a short corridor and into a cool dim room. There were only three tables and Sarah indicated that he could sit at any of them. "We've got a larger dining room upstairs," she said, "but it's only used for wedding parties and things like that. I'll bring your main course."

She left to return soon after, but not alone. She was accompanied by a woman who, although Glen had paid little heed to Sarah's appearance, now seeing her with this other woman, he realised that there was a strong similarity in looks but not age.

"This is my mother," Sarah announced as she put a plate of food in front of him.

The woman extended her hand and said, "Call me Linda." Glen shook her hand and Linda went on. "I'm sorry I wasn't here when you arrived. My bother Ron told me about you, he said you hadn't been too well. I hope you'll feel better here."

"Thank you, I'm sure I shall," Glen responded, not quite sure whether he would or not feel better.

In the dim light Glen could see that Linda was, like her husband, in her early forties, but unlike him, she was about five feet four or five, slim and with a good figure. Looking at Sarah he could see that she was indeed the younger image of her mother and pretty. There came to mind a description he had once heard applied to a woman and felt that it suited Sarah and Linda; "A couple of pocket Venuses," he decided.

Linda asked him if he would like something to drink, so he ordered a glass of red wine. Sarah went off to get it and Linda hesitating asked, "How is Trish? Ron said she's expecting."

"That's right, and she seemed very well when I left her."

"They've been looking forward to this."

A stab of pain and, "Yes…yes they have."

"It's very dim in here, we keep the outside blinds down at this time of the year it keeps the room cool, but the sun's over the other side and setting now, would you like me to raise them?"

"Yes, if you don't mind."

"All right; I've got to get back to the kitchen I've got a couple of people wanting counter meals. I'll see you later."

She left and as Sarah came back with his wine there was a soft rumble of blinds being raised and light streamed into the room.

Able to see her clearly now Glen took a closer look at Sarah; a heart shaped face with short, almost cropped dark blonde hair. A figure that still lived up to his fanciful pocket Venus and eyes that he thought the loveliest he had ever seen, a startling green, long and almost oriental.

She was smiling; he noted that she often seemed to smile and recalled how sweetly Rosemary used to smile. He wondered if Sarah's smile was a Mona Lisa smile, bewitching and suggestive of deception. That was how he felt about women now, with one exception, his beloved Trish. They were not to be trusted, but then, who could be trusted?

Perhaps Sarah was screwing with every young guy in the town, or not so young guys for that matter. And what about her mother? 

He gave a mental shrug; it didn't matter now, he'd have nothing more to do with women unless it was to fuck them and leave them. No more love, that was for romantic idiots and he wasn't going to be one of those again. No, he'd join in the sport; after all, it seemed that everyone else was in the game.

Sarah was asking him something and he said, "Sorry, what did you say?

"Is there anything else you'd like?"

"No thank you."

Just ring the bell when you want your dessert."

"Thanks."

She left, once more leaving behind her delicate fragrance. He knew he had smelt it somewhere before and tried to remember what it was, but it wouldn't come to him.

After Sarah had left Glen felt suddenly lonely. While he had stayed with Ron and Trish there had been company during mealtimes. He had not contributed much himself but had enjoyed listening to Trish and Ron exchange their news; who they had seen that day; who had said what? Then comments about the national and international news, and so it went. 

He had realised that it had never been quite like that with Rosemary and had wondered why. Perhaps she had been afraid of letting something slip, some word about her day that might raise suspicion. He didn't know, but he did know he had envied Trish and Ron their flow of communication. Perhaps this was as much a part of love as anything that happened in bed.

Now he was missing their talk. The dining room was pleasant enough but he was on his own. If there had been others there they might have talked with him, or at least he would have heard their talk, and that would have been better than nothing. 




A Note & a Letter



He wanted to ring the bell and whoever came to ask them to sit with him for a while, but he knew this would sound ridiculous and pathetic. He did however ring the bell for his dessert and Sarah came in carrying it. 

As if his wish had been heard she seemed in no hurry to leave. She did not sit, but standing there she began to ask him if he had any plans, what he would like to do and see. He told her he was a keen birdwatcher and asked if there were places that he should go to.

She talked about the surrounding hills and had a surprising knowledge of the bird life to be found there. "I'm not a birdwatcher but I often go walking along the trails when I've got time off, and there are some marvellous beaches quite near you can go to."

She chatted on eagerly for several minutes extolling the virtues of Rascals Point and Glen began to feel guilty that he might be holding her up from her work. He said as much and she said, "Oh no, it's quiet in the kitchen now and mother and father don't like me working in the bar."

"Oh, why?"

"Well, most of the customers are okay, but sometimes, especially after a few drinks, some of them say things…you know, suggestive things if I'm working there, so mostly I'm kept out of it, except the private bar. It doesn't really bother me unless they try pawing me, but dad says to stay away and that he and Harry can handle that side of things."

Glen's limited experience with women working in pub bars had always suggested to him that they tended to be tough, rough and raucous, but Sarah spoke with a quietly modulated voice.

She went on, "Mum and Dad don't really want me working around the pub, but there aren't too many jobs for girls in Rascals Point. I lived away from here for some time but I love living here.

"Where have you been, anywhere interesting?"

She laughed and said, "If you consider a private girls' school interesting."

"Couldn't you go and live in the city, I'm sure you could find work, Trish and Ron would help, I mean, they know lots of people."

"Yes, I have thought of that, but I like it here; I didn't want to go away to school, but mum and dad thought it would be good for me."

"And was it?"

"I suppose it gave me a broader education than I could have got here and I met a different sort of people than you can meet in Racal's Point. It was fine, but I still want to live here."

Glen had initially judged her to be about twenty, but now he thought eighteen might be nearer the mark. Her eagerness and cheerfulness moved him. She was, he thought, despite his current cynicism concerning females, rather sweet and touchingly innocent. She had brought a breath of fresh air into the room along with her fragrance.

"I'd better go," she said, "There's the washing up to be done."

"Perhaps we'll talk again," Glen said.

She smiled her radiant smile and said, "I'm sure we will," and left.

"No," he thought, "definitely not a Mona Lisa smile." Then smelling her lingering perfume he managed to give it an identity; "Roses…the delicate perfume of a rose. She reminds me of a rose," and with that he amended his earlier description of her as a pocket Venus.

It was Linda who came in to clear away. Her likeness to Sarah was even clearer now and Glen could well imagine how much greater that likeness would have been twenty years before. 

"I've been having a chat with your daughter," he said. "She's a lovely girl."

"We think so," Linda smiled. "She works hard but there's no future for her here in the pub. Harry's okay, he'll be able to take over when Steve and I decide we've had enough…that is, if he wants to, but Sarah's just not made for this sort of life. We've suggested that she go to the city but she loves it here. Don't get me wrong, we love her dearly, but we just can't see what the future is for her."

"Yes, she told me, and I suggested the city but she said the same thing to me, she likes it here."

"Did you? I wish you'd keep it up, you know how young people are with parents. If you suggest one thing they go in the opposite direction."

Glen smiled and said, "She might see me as a parent as well, I mean, as far as she's concerned I suppose I'm the older generation."

Linda laughed and said, "Go on, you can't be more than twenty eight."

"That's very flattering, but I'm thirty five."

"You poor old man," laughed Linda, "just wait until you're forty five." Changing the subject she went on, "If you'd like a quiet drink, there's the private bar. The only people who go in there are those that Steve or I invite."

"I might do that," Glen replied. 

"If you come with me now I'll show you where it is," offered Linda.

Glen followed Linda along the corridor, through an archway and into a small room with a minute bar and a couple of tables and chairs. Behind the bar was another archway screened by heavy curtains and behind them could be heard voices coming from the main bar.

"I'll get Sarah to come and serve you," Linda said, and she went out through the arch.

Glen sat on a bar stool and waited, listening to the voices and laugher beyond the curtains. They heightened his feelings of loneliness and he wondered if he should have gone into the main bar. There he might have got into conversation and for a while forgotten his woes.

Sarah came in and stood behind the bar, waiting for him to give his order. 

"I'll have a double whisky, please. Can I buy you a drink?"

Sarah poured his whisky and said, I don't really drink…well, not alcohol, but if I could have an apple juice?"

"Of course, whatever you want. I suppose working in a pub you get so used to having drink around you that you get fed up with it. A fellow I was talking to once told me he worked in a place where they made soft drinks and they had coolers around the plant full of their products. The people who worked there could go and help themselves, 'And do you know,' he said, ‘hardly anyone ever does'. A case of familiarity breeding contempt I suppose."

"Yes; dad and Harry get a lot of people wanting to buy them a drink and they mostly opt for a soft drink. A lot of people working behind bars end up as alcoholics and one barman we knew actually died from alcohol poisoning."

"I suppose I shouldn't be drinking this stuff, then," said Glen, indicating his whisky.

"You're a doctor so you should know it kills the brain cells."

Glen laughed and said, "All dead a long time ago."

Sarah made a move to leave and on impulse Glen said, "Don't go…that is if you haven't got anything else to do."

"No, apart from this I'm finished for the day, but I thought you might want to be on your own."

It had been on the tip of Sarah's tongue to suggest what Glen had thought a few minutes before, that he might prefer the main bar, but instead she said "We can talk for a while if you like."

There ensued an awkward pause; the sort of pause you often get when someone has said, "Let's talk," and having decided to do so they don't know what to say.

Sarah looked curiously at Glen. When Ron had phoned to make the arrangement all he had said was that Glen hadn't been very well, he had said nothing about what had actually been wrong with him. She had learned not to be too inquisitive about the pub's patrons because they sometimes took this to be an intimate interest in them and it could lead on to other things, especially if they'd had a few drinks. Then she would have to extricate herself from a situation that was getting out of hand. 

Now she found that she was interested in Glen and deciding he was safe she said. "Ron said you hadn't been very well." 

Glen wondered just how much Ron had said, but agreed that yes, he hadn't been well.

"A virus?" asked Sarah.

"No."

The brevity of his response and the way Glen had said it, suggested that further enquiries would not be welcome, and that was unusual in itself since most people are only too willing to discuss their ailments.

She turned the conversation in what she assumed was a safe direction. 

"Have you known Ron and Trish long?"

He explained that he had met Trish in medical school but had only got to know Ron when he married Trish.

"She's lovely, isn't she? We were all so glad when she married Uncle Ron, and now they're going to have a baby. It seems funny, doesn't it? Trish is a doctor and now she'll have to have a doctor, won't she?"

Glen found himself warming towards this ingenuous girl. "Doctors sometimes need a doctor, we get sick too."

"Have you got a doctor…one you go to when you're not well?"

"Yes, Trish is my doctor and my…"

He was about to say "my wife's," but he stopped himself in time.

"There's something I've often wondered, I don't want to pry, but do doctors pay doctors when they consult them?"

Glen laughed and said, "No, not usually; it's a case of noblesse oblige; you fix me up now and I'll fix you up later."

"What about if you're married and have children?"

"Much the same applies, they get a free ride."

Sarah smiled and said, "I think I'll marry a doctor…or…do dentists do the same?"

"I believe so."

"Then perhaps I'll marry a dentist; they charge much more than doctors. Wouldn't it be good if you could marry a doctor, dentist, lawyer, plumber, electrician…? "

"You mercenary little thing," Glen laughed; then suddenly wondered what free services Rosemary got in return for her services in bed.

"Thinking it over, I should probably marry a computer expert, the dammed things are always going wrong."

She laughed again but Glen did not join her. He had become very sombre and Sarah wondered if she had said something wrong.

"I was only joking," she said shyly.

Glen looked at her and managed a smile, "I know you were." 

Realising that his sudden change of mood had troubled Sarah, he asked if she would like to be married.

"Yes and no. I mean, if you look at the way marriages are these days with people breaking up, and especially if they have children, all the misery it causes, it makes you wonder if it's worth getting married."

"How right you are," thought Glen, and was thankful that he and Rosemary hadn't had children. He tried for a positive note and said, "I don't think Trish and Ron will break up."

"No…no they do seem to be very devoted to each other. I love to watch them when they come here to stay for a few days. They seem to know each other's thoughts even before they've spoken them. I think that's beautiful, don't you?"

"Yes, I suppose it is. You're parents haven't broken up."

"No, and that's odd in a way…I mean, it's never occurred to me that they would. Perhaps a lot of children feel like that until it happens. When I was at school a lot of the boarders had parents who'd broken up and it was as if they didn't really belong anywhere and some of them could be very disruptive."

She looked at the clock on the wall and asked, "Is there anything else you want?"

Glen decided he wouldn't kill any more brain cells and said, "No thank you."

I usually go for a short walk about this time along the beach, it helps me to sleep, so if you'd excuse me."

"Of course," replied Glen regretfully. He had enjoyed talking with this agreeable girl.

She went to leave saying, "Goodnight," then turned back. "Why don't you come with us, it's lovely at this time in the evening when the weather's calm."

"Who is ‘us'?"

"I take my dog Fred."

Glen thought it might help him sleep too, so he said, "Okay, but hadn't you better ask your dad, I mean, you hardly…"

"I'm over eighteen you know…over twenty one, so I don't have to ask." She smiled and added, "But I do tell mum or dad when I go."

"I thought you were a lot younger than…"

"Yes, a lot of people do. Perhaps I shall start to look old very quickly."

"Your mother doesn't look old."

"No, your right, she doesn't and she looked very like me when she was younger. Perhaps we're both lucky."

She went through the curtained arch into the main bar. She was gone for about half a minute and then came back. "Right, let's go."

They went down the corridor, though an empty kitchen and into a garden. It had grown dark and it was a moonless night and there being no other light but that of the stars Glen was dependent on Sarah to guide him.

Fred came bounding up and proved to be a large pinscher that sniffed at Glen suspiciously. "Friend" said Sarah and the sniffing ended with a lick on the hand. Glen could see why Sarah might go walking along the beach at night alone. If she had a word like "foe" as a command Fred would probably tear an arm off any poor wretch who sought to molest Sarah. 

"There's a path down to the beach," Sarah said, "it's a bit tricky so hold my hand."

Glen felt a small firm hand in his. It was almost like a child's and felt very pleasant. The difference was that instead of like an adult leading the child, the child was leading him.

They went for about three hundred metres and then came out onto the sandy beach. The night was very calm and still and the stars were reflected on the smooth surface of the water. Glen was surprised to discover that he felt at peace. He made a deliberate effort to think of Rosemary, and found that it didn't hurt as badly as it had.

Fred had bounded away into the dark and they went off in the direction he had taken. Glen's eyes had become adjusted to the dark and he saw Sarah, who had not relinquished his hand, pointing with her free hand and saying, "Over there you can see the Rascals Point lighthouse."

He could not actually see the lighthouse but could see its light flashing out to sea. He tried to gauge how far away it was but it was difficult in the dark. He conjectured about two or three kilometres.

"Do you know how this place came to be called "Rascal's Point?" he asked.

"I know what I've been told and it's rather a nasty story. The town sort of took on the name Rascals Point, but the real Rascals Point is where the lighthouse is. 

"Just below and behind the lighthouse is a small bay. Back in the days when we still had convict settlements some of the convicts would escape. They made their way to remote places; Rascals Point was only one of the places. I think at one time there were up to fifty men living around that bay. They weren't all escaped convicts; some of them were sailors or sealers who had jumped ship."

"They mostly lived off what they could catch and hunt but out beyond the point are rocks just below the water at high tide. There were coastal sailing ships that plied between the colonies and some of them got wrecked on the rocks before they erected the lighthouse. They went out in small rowing boats and killed any men who had survived, but kept the women. Then they got what they could from the ship and took it back into the bay."

"They raped the women and kept them as sex slaves. As well as that groups of them would come inland and kidnap aboriginal women and take them back to the bay. I believe there were terrible fights and men killing each other. You see, there were never enough women to go round so if one man wanted a particular woman and another man wanted her at the same time, there was trouble."

"They must have created hell on earth and a lot of the women died, either from what the men did to them or disease or giving birth to the children these men had put in them."

"In the end, and as the authorities took more and more control of the country, expeditions were sent out to round up people in those sort of places. A lot of the men died in the fights with the soldiers, and those that didn't die in the fights were hung."


"So that's how this place got the name, ‘Rascals Point.' I've always thought that the word rascal sounds a bit tame for what they were and that Hell Point would have been more suitable, but there you are. If you like I'll take you out there and show you."


"Would you have time?"

"Oh yes. If we could leave early, say about eight o'clock; I need to be back about eleven to help mum. We usually get a few people in for counter lunches, and there's your lunch as well. Or we could go in the afternoon; I get time off then until the evening meals have to be prepared."

"Could we go tomorrow morning?"

"Yes, of course."

They had reached the place where the beach ended and the first low rocky cliffs that ran out to the end of the Point began. Glen could not see them, but the cliffs became higher and more rugged as the got closer to the end of the Point.

They turned back and he could see the lights of the town. Some of these, like the stars, were reflected in the water. 

"It looks beautiful," he said.

"Yes, I've often thought that…where's Fred got to? Fred...Fred."

Fred came leaping out of the dark. "Heel," Sarah commanded, and Fred obediently came to walk beside her. Somehow it seemed ridiculous that petite Sarah could with a single word command Fred. 

"He's very obedient," commented Glen.

"Yes, I've had him since he was a puppy and I trained him myself. Some people are frightened of him but he's lovely really. I suppose he looks a bit fierce. That's like people, isn't it? Someone looks fierce so you think they are fierce but when you get to know them they might turn out to be really nice and gentle. Then there are others who look nice, but later you find out that they are horrible people. Appearances can be very deceptive.

"Yes, they can," replied Glen, a picture of beautiful but deceitful Rosemary coming into his mind.

They walked on in silence until they reached the pub. Sarah let go of his hand and said, "Tomorrow morning at eight then. If you tell me what you'd like for breakfast I'll have it ready for you and we can get away early."

Glen regretted the necessity of relinquishing her hand; he gave his breakfast order and said, "I'll be in the dining room at seven thirty, goodnight."

"Thank you for walking with me, goodnight."

Glen wanted to tell her that the pleasure had been all his, but she was gone.

For the first time since his departure from Rosemary he slept well. There were no nightmares of Rosemary in a lover's arms and when he woke at seven, as far as he could recall, he hadn't dreamt at all.

He showered and shaved with care, then dressed with equal care in the best casual clothes he had with him. He no sooner arrived in the dining room than smiling Sarah came in with his breakfast. 

She was dressed in dark green slacks and a matching shirt. He thought she looked like a pixie, having always imagined pixies as wearing dark green. He wondered if she was as mischievous as pixies were reputed to be.

He said, "You look lovely in that outfit," and wondered if she looked equally lovely without it. He gave himself a mental slap on the wrist and remembered he didn't trust women and anyway Sarah was years younger than him. 

She smiled and said, "We'll go in my car. Fred always goes with me on these trips and a lot of people don't like having dogs in their vehicle. Glen wondered if she was taking the dog for protection in case he tried to interfere with her. He also wondered how many other men had gone with her "on these trips."

When he finished Sarah came in with Linda who collected his empty plate and coffee cup. 

"Be careful on that road out to the Point," she said, it can be very dangerous." 

"I will," said Sarah, "Shall we go?"

"I'm ready."

Sarah's car turned out to be a station wagon, and Fred jumped into the back and stuck his head out of an open window. They set out along the main street of the town and into the country beyond. They came to a dirt road running off to their right and turned onto it. 

Glen soon found out why Linda had called it dangerous. Its surface was poorly maintained and the road ran along the top of the cliffs. The vehicle lurched and bounced over the rough surface and Glen could now see how, as they approached the point, the cliffs reared up higher and higher.




A Note & a Letter



The lighthouse proved to be a bit of a disappointment. It was white, short and stubby. There were the remains of the lighthouse keeper's cottage, now empty and derelict since the lighthouse had been long ago automated and the keeper gone. 

Parking the car near the lighthouse they got out and walked to the ocean side of the point. Great waves came heaving in, building up as they approached the cliff then thundering against the rocks to roll back to be caught up in the next incoming wave.

Beyond the point Glen could see the tips of the rocks Sarah had mentioned, the sea foaming over them.

"They're completely covered at high tide," Sarah yelled above the thunder of the turmoil below them. "I'll show you the bay."

They walked to the inland side of the Point and about a couple of hundred metres from the Point there was the bay. It looked innocent enough. There were no remains of the hell on earth it had once been and consisted of a beach about four hundred metres long flanked by two short spurs of rock jutting out to sea.

Glen could see why this place had been chosen. Running from inland and down onto the beach was a fresh water creek, its thin stream of water emptying into the sea.

The thunder from the ocean side could still be heard, but the waters of the bay were quiet.

"Would you like to go down?" asked Sarah, "there's a sort of path but you have to be careful."

They made their way down the narrow path until they reached the beach. Fred rushed off into the water, apparently chasing imaginary fish. Sarah and Glen walked to one side of the bay and sat on some rocks. Perhaps because he had been told the story, or maybe there does linger on in places the atmosphere of the deeds that have been done there, Glen felt that the place had a sinister ambience.

For a while they sat in silence, and then Sarah said, "Can you feel it?"

"What?"

"This place, it's evil."

"Yes, it is."

Sarah gave a little shriek and Glen, startled, turned to look at her.

"Look," she whispered, and there in a niche in the rock just behind her stood a small fairy penguin, staring fixedly.

"Well, something doesn't mind living here," said Glen.

They sat looking at the little creature for a few minutes, the Sarah said, "The poor thing is probably terrified of us, let's go." 

They went back along the beach and climbed the cliff path. Wandering over to the lighthouse they sat at its base for a while, looking out over the sea and listening to it thundering against the cliffs. 

Fred continued his olfactory researches. Glen had his own olfactory interest. He had noticed in the car, and now, with Sarah sitting close to him, there it was again, that delicate fragrance of roses.

He remembered the heavy perfume Rosemary had worn and which, she assured him, drove men into a sexual frenzy. Someone had told him it was extracted from pigs. He didn't know the truth or falsity of this but he had often found it cloying rather than sexually arousing.

Sarah's perfume didn't arouse him sexually either, and yet it did arouse something in him. He tried to find a word to describe what it was. This little pixie sitting beside him, and even though he knew she was not, she looked so fragile, and her perfume seemed to be just right for her, light and delicate. That was it, she was light and delicate.

He didn't want to be sexually aroused by her or anyone and his feelings regarding Sarah were something like those he had for Trish. Trish had cared when he was in deep distress; then this pixie with her warmth and smile had in little more than a day brought a ray of light into his dark world. 

There was an air of innocence about her that was not born of stupidity for she was obviously intelligent, but arose from some inner goodness that after Rosemary he had come to believe did not exist. "Yes," he thought, "she is a healer, a better healer than I am, and she is probably completely unaware of it."

Sarah glanced at her watch and said, "We must be getting back or mum will have to get started on her own."

Arriving back at the pub Steve said, "Trish rang wanting to know how you are. She'd like you to return the call."

Since his room did not have a telephone in it, he was shown to what was called "The office," a small room equipped with desk, computer and telephone. He rang Trish's number and when she answered asked him how he was feeling.

"Not too bad. Ron was right; the place is doing me some good. I almost feel ready to come back to work."

"So soon, good God Glen, you haven't been there two days yet; there must be something in the air. Doctor's orders, you stay there for at least a week…better still, two weeks."

Glen laughed and said, "Yes, there is something in the air, a pixie fragrance."

"A pixie fragrance! What are you talking about Glen?"

"I've met a little pixie dressed in green." 

"Yes, and we've got fairies at the bottom of our garden; have you gone round the bend? What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about your niece."

"Oh, Sarah; she's lovely isn't she, but why fragrance?"

"She wears a very delicate perfume."

There was a pause and then Trish said, "Careful Glen, she's very young and you're very vulnerable."

"Don't worry Trish, it's not like that and she's got a bloody great dog to protect her and a father and brother who look capable of breaking your neck with one hand."

"Glen, I've got some news but I don't know how you'll take it."

"Just tell me."

"Well, I thought I should at least make contact with Rosemary, after all, no matter how reprehensible she's been she's still a human being. I rang her and got no answer, so I kept ringing at intervals and still got no answer. I went to the house and it was all shut up."

"Gone away has she?"

"Yes, but that's not all. You know those friends of yours, Alan and Stephanie Fossy?"

"Yes, what about them?" Glen thought he knew what was coming and felt his stomach knot.

"Stephanie came to see me professionally. She was in a hell of a state. Alan's left her with the two kids. She told me he'd gone off with Rosemary, but that isn't all. The bank is after him; something to do with missing money."

Glen felt sick and asked, "Is there anything I can do? Should I come and see Stephanie?"

"I don't think that would be a good idea at this stage. There's nothing you can do that we can't handle here, and it would only be the two of you wallowing in each other's misery. I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but I thought you ought to know."

"Yes…yes, you were right to tell me. I don't think it does much good delaying bad news; better to get it over and done with."

"Is it done with, Glen?"

"I don't think there was any way back for Rosemary and me, and even if there was I don't think I'd want to take it. Going off with Alan only puts the seal on it. Of course, you've no idea where they are?"

"No, and if I did the bank would love to know."

"God, what a mess he's got himself into, even knowing what Rosemary is like; that she's anybodies…he must have been out of his mind."

"It gets some people like that. They become totally infatuated and do the most insane things. They'll get him in the end and that'll mean jail, and what happens to Rosemary then?"

"Easy, she finds another guy to shack up with."

"Possibly; how are you feeling after that lot?"

"A bit sick, but I'll be okay. I didn't think Alan would be so stupid, but it hasn't hit me like the time I first learned about Rosemary."

"You stay at Rascals Point and enjoy the pixie fragrance and sea air. I'll be in touch, especially if I get any more news."

"Thanks Trish, you're a real…a true friend."

"Give my love to them all."

"I'll do that, bye."

"Bye."

Glen put down the receiver and sat for a moment trying to absorb the news. He was surprised that he did not feel more distraught. He still could not accept the advice, "Forget it and move on," but it was as if a line had been drawn under his relationship with Rosemary and feeling this he also felt relieved.

He wondered about Alan going off with a woman he knew was promiscuous, and then recalled how throughout history there had been people like that. They become totally besotted and would risk anything to be with the object of their infatuation, even when the liaison might mean death. 

Trish had said, "They'll get him in the end." "If he's had his hand in the bank till they probably will," Glen thought, "I wonder what he'll think about in jail; will it be Rosemary or the wife and children he's deserted?"

"Lunch."

A smiling Sarah broke into his gloomy reverie.

He tried to return her smile and followed her to the dining room to eat.

He didn't feel much like eating and had an urge to get out and breathe the clean sea air again. He decided that he couldn't impose on Sarah's time further that day, but he had an idea.

He didn't feel like tackling the hills tracks that day, so he asked, "Could I take Fred for a walk this afternoon?"

"I'm sure he'd love it," Sarah replied; "Two outings in quick succession would be a luxury for him. Where are you thinking of going?"

"Oh, I just thought I'd stroll to the end of the town then come back along the beach."

"In that case he'll need to be on the lead when you go through the town. He'd be perfectly all right without it, but the local bye-laws insist. I'll give you a crash course on words of command and hand signals."

After lunch Glen was given his crash course; Sarah put Fred's collar and lead on and told him to be good, and Glen set off with Fred. For as long as Sarah remained in sight Fred kept hesitating and looking back at her, as if expecting her to join them, but once out of sight he seemed to accept the inevitable.

Sarah had asked Glen to let Fred carry out his sniffing researches because, as she pointed out, "That's part of the fun for him."

People in the town recognised Fred, and would pat him, look curiously at Glen, and then ask Fred, "Where's Sarah today?"

Fred took these acts of recognition as his due, and Glen would answer on his behalf, explaining why he was walking the dog. Of course he did not give the real reason which was, that having Fred with him he felt that he had a little bit of Sarah also.

They got to the end of the town and Glen sat for a while and as some people do, he began to talk to the dog.

"You're a lovely boy, aren't you?"

The stumpy tail went, wag, wag.

"You've got a lovely owner too." 

Wag, wag.

"I expect you love her a lot?"

Wag, wag.

"Yes, I can understand that."

Wag, wag.

An elderly couple walked by and looked at Glen as if he were slightly deranged talking to a dog, and then talked to Fred themselves.

"Hello Fred, having a nice walk?"

Wag, wag.

They passed on.

Wag, wag, wag, nuzzle, push. 

"All right Fred, you want to go?"

Leap, wag, wag.

They went down onto the beach and Glen took the lead off Fred and began the walk back. It was a working day for most people so the beach was almost deserted. 

She was lying on the beach sunning her self; she was clad in a very brief bikini that revealed large and firm breasts. As Glen and Fred approached she sat up and did so in a way that seemed calculatingly sensual. 

Glen, although like most men he had been almost impelled to look at this example of female sexuality, would have passed on with perhaps a brief "hello," but the woman stopped him, saying, "That's a beautiful dog."

"Yes," replied Glen, "but he's not mine, I'm just taking him for a walk."

He went to move on but the woman stopped him again.

"I love dogs but I can't have one of my own?"

"Why not?"

"Oh, I rent a flat and the rules are, no animals allowed."

"That's a shame."

The woman had raised her arms to lift up the back of her hair in such a way as to give maximum uplift to her breasts. As her breasts strained against the thin cloth of her bikini top, causing their nipples to be clearly outlined, Glen felt a lurch in the pit of his stomach. 

The woman smiled at him, a wide full lipped smile that revealed even white teeth; it was a smile calculated to beguile. 

Glen made to move on again but the woman was stroking Fred and even this was a sensuous, captivating movement.

Two emotions struggled inside Glen. "My God, she's all sexy woman." She seemed to be the very embodiment of the type of woman men would risk death for. He was attracted and knew he was, yet the storm signals seemed to be out. Here was danger, as yet a long way off, but nevertheless palpable.

Once more he tried to move on but she asked, "Do you live here?"

"No, I'm just stopping here for a while."

"I'm stopping here too. Where are you staying?"

"At the pub, The Rascals Point Hotel."

"Wonderful, so am I. I think the pub is much more enchanting than a motel, I mean, the motels all seem to be the same, but the pub has character, don't you think?"

"Yes…yes…I suppose it has, but I didn't think anyone else was staying there."

"I arrived just over and hour ago and thought I'd come straight down for a bit of a tan." It seemed to Glen hardly necessary since she was already well bronzed.

"Do you swim?" she asked.

"Yes, sometimes."

"Marvellous, perhaps we could swim together?"

"Perhaps."

His lack of enthusiasm didn't seem to put her off. She extended her hand and said, "I'm Star Oaten" in a manner that suggested that Glen should know who she was.

He shook hands saying, "Glen Moore," and her long fingers seemed to hold on to him just a little longer than was necessary.

Something inside him was shouting, "Careful Glen, haven't you had enough? You've been through this before."

It was true; Star Oaten bore a strong resemblance to Rosemary and was producing in him the same response as he had experienced with Rosemary on first seeing her. There was a tingling in his groin and an erection was starting. He decided that flight was in order.

"I'd better get back to the pub or Fred's mistress will be wondering what's happened to us."

"Oh, he lives at the pub; perhaps we will be able to walk him together?"

"You'd have to ask Sarah about that."

"Sarah, which one is that, there seems to be a couple of women?"

"She's the younger one."

"Oh, the little thing in reception; isn't she a darling, just like a sweet child."

Glen backed away and said, "Yes," but not liking what sounded like a put-down of Sarah. "I might see you later."

"You're sure to Glen."

Glen continued his walk, talking to Fred as they went; "I thought dogs were supposed to have instincts about people, didn't you realise she was being seductive?" Of course, he was only transferring to Fred his own feelings, knowing he had almost been sucked into the web of this femme fatale. 

His sexuality had been in abeyance ever since he had learned about Rosemary, but now nature was making itself felt and he didn't want it to. Even if this woman was only playing a seductive game his response to her was unsettling. He resolved that he would avoid Star Oaten as much as possible, and would not allow himself to be seduced by her obvious sensuality.

He settled into a philosophic mood and wondered why he had never been affected by Trish in the way he had by Rosemary and now so instantaneously by Star. 

Trish was attractive, but was not and had never been so obviously sexually fascinating as Rosemary or Star; yet she must have been for Ron. Glen had always known that Trish was a good and loving person and it seemed to him that such people are often the ones who are overlooked; it is as if their very goodness is a deterrent and it took someone like Ron to appreciate them.

He had been touched by Sarah and only very briefly had he experienced a twinge of sexual feeling for her. He had instantly, and he believed successfully, pushed the feeling aside, but he appreciated the same sort of goodness in Sarah as he did in Trish.

In the course of his studies Glen had received his fair share of human psychology, but when it came down to it; when it involved you personally; it did not seem to work unless you were prepared to be cold and clinical in your relationships.

He reached the pub and took off Fred's collar and lead. Sarah must have spotted them and came out to meet them. Fred wagged and licked as Sarah asked him if he had enjoyed his walk, and again Glen replied on both their behalves, "Yes, it was very enjoyable."

He decided not to tell Sarah about his meeting with Star Oaten but Sarah unknowingly foiled his resolve. 

"We've got another person stopping here now. Just wait until you meet her."

"I just have," Glen confessed. "She was sunning herself so I met her on the beach."

"Isn't she beautiful, Glen, didn't you think she's absolutely stunning? Harry helped carry her things in and now he can't stop talking about her."

"Another poor sod hooked," he thought, but said, "Yes...yes...I suppose she is quite good looking."

"Quite good looking! Glen, you'd better take another look, she's fantastic."

Glen smiled and said, "Well, she seems have a good publicist in you."

"You're an old grouch, Glen; dinner in an hour and you'll have company."

"Yes, I suppose I will."

He made his way to his room to clean up and change for dinner. He wondered if he should have a counter meal instead, and realised how much he was threatened by this woman and her glamour. 

He had been drawn to Rosemary when he first saw her, but it was nothing like the instant fascination that Star had engendered in him. He knew quite well that it was simply the reaction of the male to an exceptionally good-looking female, but the knowledge did not help. The storm warnings were more urgent than ever in their clangour."

He decided against the counter meal since it would look both odd and perhaps offensive. When he entered the dining room he was relieved to see that two tables had been set for the meal. He rang the bell to let it be known he was ready for the first course, but before it arrived Star entered, or more accurately, made an entrance. 

One might have supposed she was entering the dining room of a five star hotel. She was dressed in a dark red dress cut low to reveal the deep valley between her breasts, and split to the thigh to give maximum display of leg. 

She smiled upon Glen then, glancing round the room said, "They've put us at separate tables."

At that point Sarah entered and Star spoke to her; "Darling, you've set the cutlery out on separate tables and I'm sure Glen would like my company, do move it."

Sarah obediently set the cutlery out on Glen's table and he had the opportunity to observe the two of them. The tall, imperious Star, elegantly – perhaps over elegantly – dressed, her dark hair, long and lustrous, cascading over her shoulders. Beside her stood delicate Sarah who seemed to be dwarfed by Star, dressed in her working clothes that consisted of a dark blue cotton dress belted at the waist. 

For all her voluptuousness there was something overblown about Star; she was larger than life, and even Rosemary at her most demanding would never have had the gall to thrust herself onto someone as Star had on Glen. As she sat at his table her image was further damaged for Glen as the reek of her perfume, more potent than anything Rosemary had ever worn, reached his nostrils. It made him gasp and want to hold his breath.

Yes, the overt sexuality was still there, demanding male attention, sending out the message, "I have only to snap my fingers and I can get any man I want," but for Glen, and much to his relief, the image had crumbled. 

Sarah left them and Star's imperious manner faded to be replaced by her seductive mode. She clearly had no idea of the negative impact she had on Glen, and began to question him about how long he was staying at the hotel, where he came from, was he married and what he did for a living.




A Note & a Letter



Glen gave short, almost dismissive answers to her questions. He wanted this woman to know as little about him as possible. It occurred to him that none of the Hardcastle family had questioned him on personal matters, not even Sarah with whom he had been most friendly. 

He did however let drop that he was a doctor, and this gave rise to some mirth in Star who said, "A doctor, darling, how wonderful, perhaps you'd like to give me a thorough check up."

Glen muttered something about being on holiday and he was not inclined to work. Even this rebuff did not deter the impervious Star. 

For Glen the meal had been spoilt and he hurried through it to escape this suffocating woman. Finishing he excused himself and made to leave. Even then Star did not give up; "Perhaps we could go for a walk along the beach, it would be very romantic at this time in the evening."

For a moment Glen was stumped for a response then he said, "Sorry, I've got another engagement," and fled.

He went to the kitchen and there Linda and Sarah were clearing up. "Are you going for a walk along the beach this evening?" he asked Sarah.

She looked up giving him a mischievous smile. "Yes, why?"

"Can I come with you?"

Her smile broadened, "Yes, if you like."

Linda gave a smothered laugh.

Sarah asked, "Okay mum?"

"Yes darling, I can finish up here, you run along with Glen." She stifled another laugh.

Sarah said, "All right Glen lets go," and walked out in the direction of the garden. 

"Operation rescue," Linda called out now failing to stifle her laughter.

"What…?" asked Glen but Sarah called out, "Come on or we'll leave you behind."

Glen hurried into the garden to be overwhelmed by an excited Fred, who seemed to have an ambition to knock him over.

"Down boy," said Sarah who also seemed to be having trouble stopping her self from laughing. Fred subsided and led the way along the path to the beach.

When they got to the beach Sarah gave full voice to her laughter and said, "Mum was right, this is operation rescue, isn't it."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm rescuing you from the clutches of the beautiful enchantress aren't I? I thought she was going to eat you."

"You knew?"

"She didn't exactly hide it, did she? I thought with her looks you'd succumb."

"No thanks, I've had enough of…I don't need that sort of thing."

"Most men would."

"Perhaps; it might depend on their experience with women."

"You don't mind being with me, then?"

"You're different."

"Am I, in what way?"

Glen hesitated, "You've shoved yourself into a bit of a corner old boy," he thought; then went on, "You're pleasant to be with."

"Oh!" 

They walked on in silence with only the sound of the little wavelets whishing on the sand. For a while Glen wasn't sure whether he had made the right response to her question or not.

Sarah broke the silence; "How long are you thinking of staying?"

"I'm not sure; perhaps a week; maybe a couple of weeks."

"I was wondering if you'd like me to how you some of the hill tracks; you could do your bird watching."

"That would be very good, but what about your work?"

"I could ask mum if I could have a day off; shall I ask?" 

"Well yes, but…well I don't want her to think I've been…"

"Persuading me? I told you before Glen, I'm not a child. I put in at the pub what I can; it's a sort of return for all they've put into me, but I can get a day off."

They turned and began the walk back along the beach towards the pub. 

"Sorry Sarah," Glen said, "I didn't mean to imply that you're a child, it's just that…well, your parents might think I'm trying to…" Glen's voice faded; he didn't know how to go on.

"I asked you Glen, you didn't ask me. If you'd rather I didn't come with you only have to say; I'm not trying to force myself on you."

The conversation ceased as they saw Star approaching.

She stopped and seemed to stare at them for a moment and then said in what sounded like a gritty voice, "Oh, so this was your arrangement." 

Glen did not feel himself to be under any obligation to Star, so he said, "Yes, enjoy your walk," and they moved on.

"What was that about?" asked Sarah, "She sounded annoyed." 

"She asked me to go for a walk with her and I told her I'd made an arrangement. That's when I came and asked if I could walk with you."

"I said this was a rescue mission; don't you like her? Lot's of men would jump at the opportunity to walk with her."

"Yes, they would, but she comes on so strong. She knows that men would leap at the chance to walk with her, and probably do other things as well. She's far too sure of herself for my liking, and I don't need…I don't want that sort of thing."

Sarah stopped, looking at him. 

"Glen, I haven't pried into your affairs, have I?"

"No," replied Glen, wondering where this was leading.

"I just want to say that almost from my first meeting you, I thought that you're a man who's been badly hurt in some way. I'm not asking you about it, but I did want to say that."

"You're very perceptive, Sarah, perhaps you should be the doctor and I should work in the pub."

Sarah laughed and said, "I think you'd make an awful kitchen hand. Now, would you like me to come with you tomorrow?"

"Yes, I would, very much."

"Good, if you go into the private bar when we get back I'll go and ask mum if it will be okay."

"Right."

Glen sat in the private bar with a whisky waiting to hear Linda's verdict. Before Sarah got back to him Star entered; she sat on the bar stool beside him and said, "I'll have a gin and tonic, Glen."

Glen had noticed before how some people had the effrontery to make their demands and so often got away with it. He supposed it was the surprise the victim experienced that caused them to accept whatever was demanded. It was the same with people who handed out gratuitous insults; the insulted person was so shocked they failed to respond. 

When Sarah returned and said, "Mum says it will be fine," he ordered the gin and tonic.

He sat studying Star. On first seeing her he had taken her to be about thirty, but now he could see she was nearer forty. Certainly she had worn well. Her figure was excellent and she obviously took good care of herself. Her makeup was carefully applied so as to focus the viewer's attention on her best features, but behind it he could see that all might not look so well first thing in the morning. 

He was reminded of an interview he had heard with someone who had been talking about a famous film actress of about five decades ago. The actress, who had been married six times, had played the role of a sexual siren in one particular film and this had made her the fantasy of thousands if not millions of men. When asked about her many marriages, the answer was, "Well, the trouble was they went to bed with (the name of the woman she played in the film), but they woke up with (the name of the actress).

Some words he had once read popped into Glen's mind, "The stern, bare horrors of reality, from which there was no awakening." "Yes, there is no awakening from reality," he thought.

Star was talking but he hadn't heard a word she said. "Sorry, what was that?"

Speaking in that slow patient voice that people sometimes adopt when talking to someone they think an idiot, she said, "I said I shall go swimming tomorrow morning and thought you'd like come with me."

"Sorry I've…"

"Made other arrangements."

Glen glanced at Sarah and said, "Yes."

Star tossed off the last of her drink and slammed the glass down on the bar and stomped out.

"Not used to not getting her way," Glen commented.

"I feel rather sorry for her."

"Oh, why?"

"Perhaps all that self-assurance is a cover up for loneliness."

Glen considered this for a moment then said, "You may be right; I'll swim with her another day. How long is she staying?"

"Like you, she's a bit indefinite. It doesn't really matter to us; after all, we're not exactly booked out."

"No, I'll ask her some time but I'm not sacrificing tomorrow."

"Would it be a sacrifice?"

"Yes…yes it would. What time in the morning?"

Same as this morning, eight o'clock?"

"I'll be here at seven thirty."

"Would you like us to take some sandwiches and something to drink?"

"A good idea; we can make a day of it."

"Lovely; goodnight Glen."

"Goodnight."

As he made his way to his room Star came out of the bathroom dressed in a black negligee.

He bade her goodnight and received a grunt in reply. She left a trail of the stifling perfume hanging in the air as she went past him. He suddenly felt a twinge of guilt. Suppose Sarah was right and Star was lonely. He had heard that very attractive women were sometimes isolated by reason of their looks. Women avoided them because they were too great a challenge and men because they feared rebuff.

Glen felt that despite the fact that his mood had lifted since coming to Rascals Point, he still was in no position to help someone else, especially someone who seemed to have certain features in common with Rosemary. Nevertheless he decided, "I'll ask her to go swimming with me the day after tomorrow." 

Having applied that salve to his conscience he climbed into bed and went to sleep.

He woke early, showered and dressed, and was in the dining room at seven fifteen. He rang the bell and Linda came in.

"Heavens Glen, you're early, it's not ready yet."

He had ordered bacon and eggs so he smiled and said, "That's okay."

Linda went to leave but at the door she turned and came back to him.

"Glen, I hope you don't mind my saying this, but Sarah hasn't had much experience with men. Of course she's had the occasional brush with men in the bar, that's why we keep her away from there, but she hasn't…you know, had much to do with mature men…just a couple of boyfriends, so we hope…I mean she's very precious to us and…"

"You're worried I might try and seduce her?"

"No…no…I didn't mean that, I'm sure you wouldn't. It's just that you're here for only short while and you're an attractive man and experienced and she might get fond of you, and we wouldn't want her to get hurt."

Glen was perplexed. He thought if anyone might get hurt it would be him given the vulnerable state he was in. That Sarah would get overfond of a man his age had not occurred to him. 

"Would you rather she didn't go with me, Linda?"

"No, I don't mean that, but be careful with her. She's a very affectionate girl and she might think that being with you means more than it really does."

"I promise you I'll be very careful."

"I knew you would; you didn't mind me speaking out about her?"

"Of course not, you're right to be concerned."

"I'll go and get your breakfast, Sarah is getting it ready."

She left and Glen sat wondering how he had got himself jammed between these two women, Sarah and Star. It seemed odd that each of them in their own way had made the running. "I thought I'd come here to get away from women troubles," he pondered.

Sarah came in with his breakfast. This time she was not wearing green, but fawn shorts and shirt. Glen could not help noticing how tightly the shorts stretched over her high neat buttocks, and her obviously small unbridled breasts pressed against her shirt, the little nipples clearly visible. He wondered if pixies wore fawn as well as green.

He felt a lurch in the pit of his stomach and his penis began to harden. "Careful Glen," he thought, "remember what you said to her mother." 

Sarah was all smiles and clearly excited. "I've had my breakfast, so we can leave as soon as you're ready. It's a lovely day," she said, "we're going to have a wonderful time." She sat while he ate and just as he finished eating and they were about to leave Star came in. She was wearing her bikini and over it was a very see-through beach coat. Glen felt that the message was, "See what you're missing," but he swallowed that thought and said, "Perhaps we could go swimming tomorrow morning, Star."

She looked at him as if she was looking straight through him and said, "We'll see," and in a heavily significant voice added, "I might have made other arrangements."

"Oh, okay," said Glen, and turning to Sarah said, "Shall we go?"

They used Sarah's vehicle again since Fred was going with them. Once in the car Glen said, "Well, I did my best."

"Yes, it was rather a case of hurt pride. I still feel sorry for her; she's obviously used to getting her own way. 

They set off towards the hills, driving through the town and out on the road they had taken the day before, passing the dirt road to the lighthouse. They drove for another ten minutes in silence until they reached the point where the road began to climb up.

Sarah pulled in at a stile and said, "We'll take this track today." Glen took note of the "today," hoping it meant that there would be other days with Sarah.

Clambering over the stile they began to walk along a track that rose gently following the contours of the hill. Apart from a break for lunch when they reached the top of the hill, they walked for six hours. Glen saw no birds he hadn't seen before, but was surprised when through his binoculars he spotted two Boobook Owls roosting in a tree. "They usually roost in denser vegetation and only come out at night," he told Sarah.

Attractive though the surroundings were, Glen had to conclude that the real pleasure of the walk was being with Sarah. Like Fred she seemed to bound along while he plodded after her trying to keep up. She was a young woman almost bursting with good health and energy. 

As they sat eating lunch Sarah said, "Glen, I know hardly anything about you, do you mind if I ask you a personal question?"

"No."

"Are you married?"

"Yes."

There was silence for a few moments, the Glen added, "Separated." 

"Do you have any children?"

"No."

Another silence and then Sarah said, "What a pity."

"What is?"

"You're being separated."

"Yes, I suppose it is."

That seemed to end the topic and Sarah said, "Shall we go?"

They began the downward hike and little was said. Sarah seemed very thoughtful. Glen wondered if revealing he was married had brought to an end his budding relationship with Sarah. He was relieved when during drive back she said, "Perhaps you'd like me to show you another track some time?"

"Yes, I would, but how about your work?"

Sarah laughed and said, "Well, I can't have every day off but if you're staying until next week we could go then. We can go walking in the evening, if you want to."

"I'd like that."

Arriving back at the pub Glen decided he'd have a drink in the private bar. "Come on," he said, "I'll buy you an apple juice."

Entering the bar they found Star sitting there. It was obvious she had been drinking fairly heavily; her hair hung partially over her face and she sat slouching. Harry was serving and Star was in the process of asking for another drink.

"Don't you think you've had enough," Harry was saying.

Star turned on him; "Don't fucking tell me when I've had enough; I'll decided when I've had enough…ah, here's Doctor Glen with his…his other arrangement. Have a nice time did you…get what you wanted." She giggled drunkenly.

Glen went to her and touching her arm said, "I think Harry's right Star, you have had rather a lot."

She drooped against him and drawled, "Want to take me to bed and fuck me? Didn't you get any with the little pub girl? Thought was what the other arrangement was about."

Stars perfume had gone stale and was mixed up with the smell of sweat and her alcohol laden breath. Her carefully applied makeup had given up and there was a streak of dark eye liner running down one cheek. Glen thought she was a pitiful sight.

"Come on Star, you've really had enough."

"One more, just one more then you can take me to bed and fuck me."

"No, Star, let's just get you to bed."

"Don't want to fuck me! That hunk," indicating Harry; "He'd screw the arse of me if I let him."

Glen looked across at Harry who raised his eyebrows in embarrassment and exasperation.

"One more drink…just one more…and then you can both take me to bed and fuck me."

Harry gave her a drink and she drank it in a single gulp.

"Now boys you…" She slithered to the floor.

Between them Harry and Glen got her to her bedroom. Sarah went to fetch Linda who undertook to undress Star and get her into bed. 

The two men went back to the private bar and Linda soon followed.

"Harry, you had no right to let her go on drinking like that."

"Sorry mum, but I had to keep going back and forth between here and the main bar. I think she helped herself when I wasn't here. He pointed to a nearly empty vodka bottle; "That was full this morning and no one else has been in here."

"Well, work out how much she had and we can put it on her bill."

Linda left and Harry said, "My God, I thought she was really something, and I suppose she is, but not something I'd fancy jumping into bed with. Every time I came back in here to see how she was going she was talking about sex and her ‘ex' as she called him, and about you two. I don't mind dealing with the guys, but a woman, especially this one…no thanks. I'd better get back to the other bar; you can serve Glen, Sarah."

He left and Sarah and Glen stared at each other for a moment.

"Nasty," said Glen. He felt angry that Star had spoilt what had been a pleasant day.

"You get them like that sometimes," said Sarah, "If it's a woman mum mostly deals with them, with dad or Harry standing by in case they get violent, but we don't get that sort of thing in this bar usually. What do you want to drink?"

"After that little lot I think I'll join you in an apple juice."

"Converted you, have I?"

"No, Star has."

After the evening meal Sarah, Fred and Glen took a walk along the beach. Glen was feeling the effects of the days hill climb. They stopped and sat on the sand for a while. A slice of moon had risen like a small piece cut from a lemon and it was reflected shimmeringly in the water.

The scene with Star had unsettled Glen. He wondered why she had needed to drink herself into that state, and why, even though drunk, she had offered herself so freely. It was so degrading and in a way it had degraded him and Harry as well.

He remembered Alan had said that his liaison with Rosemary had started at a party, and he wondered if she had been drunk…had Alan been drunk as well? But what about the other men? They couldn't all have been the result of her being drunk.

The next morning a gloomy Star appeared for breakfast huddled up in a dressing gown. "God I've got a thumping headache," she complained. "We were supposed to go swimming, weren't we?"

"Only if you hadn't made other arrangements."

"I don't feel like swimming, would you drive me out to that lighthouse on the point?"

Glen had hoped he had escaped from any obligation to Star, but remembering Sarah's words about Star being lonely he agreed to take her.

After breakfast and a couple of aspirin Star appeared looking slightly revived, well made up, and clad in bright red top and shorts that revealed more than they covered. They went in Glen's car and arriving at the lighthouse he gave Star the tour he had received from Sarah.

Star seemed restless and uninterested except that she seemed fascinated by the ocean side of the point and its thunder. They sat where he and Sarah had sat, at the base of the lighthouse for a while, and Glen, who was wearing shorts, felt Star's leg pressing against his.

"Very quiet here," commented Star.

"Yes, apart from the ocean."

"No one around." 

"No, I don't think many people come out here."

"You know, I've always had a dream of being made love to in a place like this."

"Have you?"

"Yes, don't you think it would be fantastic?" 

Her hand began to stroke Glen's thigh. There was no doubt in Glen's mind where this conversation was going and his manhood was responding. At the same time those storm warnings were clamouring again. "One wrong move with this woman and there's trouble ahead," he decided.