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Problems Shared

By: Cromagnonman



This is basically a rewrite of a previous story, 'A New Beginning' It has been fleshed out and a different ending added, to please those who told me that the previous ending was rushed. I'll probably be criticised now for drawing it out too long. Ah well, you can't please them all. CM

*

She was a pharmaceutical blonde, of that I was almost certain, she was young, probably no more than 19 or 20, from what I could see as the breeze fashioned her sun dress against her curves, she was stacked, physically at least, and she gave the impression that her contribution to an intelligent conversation would be, "Do you want fries with that?"

I threw her a 'good morning' as I passed her, nothing unusual with that, I throw these at most people that I pass on my morning walk. "Is it?" She asked me in little more than a whisper. 

I stopped and took a closer look at her. There was something fragile about her appearance, and it wasn't that she was slowly recovering from a hard night's drinking or something. There was something more to her than that.

"Why would you say that?" I asked her. "It is a beautiful morning, just enough sun that it doesn't burn you, just enough breeze that it keeps you cool, not enough people around to bother you, how could you not think that this is a good morning?"

She looked at me, as I looked at her. I came to the opinion that she wasn't as dumb as I initially thought, at the same time that she came to the conclusion that, given half the chance, I wasn't about to jump her bones. In that she was wrong, given even as little as a quarter the chance I would have jumped her bones with enthusiasm, I was that desperate for female companionship. I had just recently come to terms with the stupidity of the twelve months of my self-imposed celibacy.

The past twelve months of my life, if you could call it that, were a mixture of anger, bitterness, frustration and depression, clearly not the time for logical decision making. I was angry that Rosie my wife was dead. I was angry that Constable Plod and his mental midget mates of the local Police force were convinced that I had killed her. I, because of my job that took me around the world on a regular basis, was denied bail because I was considered a flight risk. This of course failed to acknowledge the fact that I had a couple of young kids that needed my support at that time of confusion for them. The court ignored my Lawyer's pleas on my behalf, and couldn't, or wouldn't understand that the kids, Ryan who was 7 and Rhianna, 5, were old enough to realise that their mother had gone and wouldn't be coming back, and yet not be able to understand why she was no longer around to love them and care for them. I relied heavily on both grandmothers to look after them over the months between my arrest and the farce that was my trial. Picking up the pieces of my life was the most difficult job that I have ever faced. That I got through it was a testament to the support from both my parents and Rosie's, and the love of my kids.

"There's a seat down here a bit, why don't we sit down and you can tell me all about your problems. No strings attached." I added hastily.

She was about to tell me to fuck off, but thought better of it. "Okay, but why are you doing this?"

I got the impression that she thought that I had an ulterior motive, one of getting into her pants. "Because, I don't like to see someone like you unhappy. You would look much better with a smile on your face." She tried a smile that was as fake as her hair colour. "Not that kind of smile."

"I have nothing to smile about."

"Then tell me what you have that's not to smile about, and I'll see if I can help you."

"No-one can." She was convinced of that.

"Try me."

She took some time to gather her thoughts, time enough for me to take yet a closer look at her. She was wearing a bra, that was obvious, that she needed to wear one was problematic, I doubted that she did. Her legs, as much as showed below the hem of her dress, were shapely and showed signs that she was no stranger to the sun. She definitely was not a muffin top (those with a roll of fat over the waist line), all in all, a tidy package. She looked at me and smiled when she realised that I had been looking at her. "I have just been told . . . , that I will not be given a passing grade unless I go to bed with my Professor. The more often I go to bed with him, the higher the grade."

"I thought that sort of thing didn't happen anymore."

"It does, believe me. What he initially thought was that I was some dumb bimbo who would go to bed with anyone. When he read my first assignment he realised that I wasn't dumb, so he began to mark me down, to give me lower grades than the assignment merited. When I questioned this was when he hit me with his suggestion that I should go to bed with him, well, go to his office couch with him. He is married, so his bed was out of the question." 

"Can't you complain to the University authorities, the Vice-Chancellor for instance?"

"I doubt that that would do any good, the rumour around the campus is that the Vice-chancellor's one of the worst offenders, or at least he used to be before he was promoted."

"I wish that there was some way that I could help you."

"Maybe we could help each other."

"What do you mean?"

"I noticed you as you walked towards me, the body was walking towards me but the mind was way off there somewhere else. You were so deep in thought that I was surprised when you spoke to me. I didn't think that you had even noticed me."

"It would be hard not to, you'd stand out in a crowd."

"Thank you. Now getting back to you, what is your problem? Is it your wife?"

"Why would you ask me that?"

"I noticed the wedding ring, that usually means that a man's problems are with his wife. My immediate thoughts were that you would hit me with that line about her not understanding you and your needs, and that you were separated, and divorce is a distinct possibility."

"I no longer have a wife." I said softly.

"She left you and you have been unable to let go, is that it?"

"She died a year ago, she was murdered."

"How sad for you." Her eyes opened wide as recognition set in. "Wait a minute, you're that man that was charged with murdering his wife, but when it came to your trial the judge threw it out. He called it a travesty, a miscarriage of justice and recommended that the police in charge of the investigation be suspended."

"That's the one."

"Patrick O'Laughlin, that's your name isn't it? I saw it on TV, your wife was missing from home and you were pleading for help in finding her. The speculation was that you had done it, and that those were crocodile tears that you were shedding."

"That's what the police thought. Because many such cases are usually committed by a spouse or close family member, they assumed, wrongly in my case, that this was yet another of these. They spent more time searching for a motive, as to why I should have killed her, than actually finding the real murderer."

"I never believed that you did it for one minute. I just couldn't see you doing it."

"Thank you. Even now there are still some out there who think that I did it."

"But why would they think that? You were never convicted. There was no evidence to suggest that to be the case."

"Because," I paused for second or two, "the real killer has not yet been caught. To these people, with the lack of a viable alternative, there is still some doubt as to my innocence."

"So what have you done about this?"

"Nothing. What can I do? The police are reluctant to help. I had made them look bad, at least that was how they looked at it. I did nothing to even hint that they were incompetent. I kept my feelings hidden inside, I couldn't afford to let them out in case they took it as me trying to divert attention from my guilt."

"So, you're not doing anything about it?"

"I didn't say that. I have not been thinking straight this past year, what with being slammed in gaol, and now having to try and get back into work while still thinking about the kids having to go to their grandmother's house every day after school. I just haven't had time to get my head around all of this until now."

"So, what are you doing about it now?"

"I have been going through in my mind everything that happened in the lead up to her murder to see if I can find a reason. Or if there is any evidence of someone either stalking her, or who had some other motive for killing her."

"Any luck yet?"

"This is pretty much a cold case. My lawyer has applied for access to all of the police evidence to see if there is anything in among all of that that can give us a lead. I'm just on my way to see him now."

"Can I tag along, just for a little while, I feel less alone now thanks to you stopping to chat."

"Sure thing. Do you realise that you are the first woman, apart from Mother and Rosie's mother, and the Psychologist that I was advised to go and see, and probably supermarket checkout operators, although they hardly constitute a meaningful conversation, that I have spoken to in the past year?"

"It's no wonder that you feel down on the world, you haven't had the scintillating conversation with a woman to brighten up your day." She smiled at me, it was a great smile, and I had no real alternative but to respond. For once in a long time, I actually felt like I was a human, and not some zombie stumbling through life.

We arrived outside my Lawyer's office. "Look," She said, "I don't think it would look good me coming in with you. He might not take this the right way, you swanning around the countryside with someone young enough to be your daughter."

"I'm not that old." I leapt to my own defence. 

"See, before you stopped to talk to me you would have shut up and not said anything. I've had some impact on you. There's a cafe a couple of doors down, I'll wait for you there. If you haven't arrived in half an hour I'll take it that you've stood me up and slink off back into my hole and die."

"I can't have that now, can I? Do you have a phone on you?" I looked at her and realised the stupidity of that question, there was nowhere on her person that she could carry a phone.

"Yeah, sure, it's in my bra propping up my left tit." She smiled to let me know that she was not worried by my faux pas, and that she was relaxed in my company.

"I tell you what, I'll give you mine, and if I'm going to be held up a little longer than expected, I'll borrow a phone and call you. You can read out the menu for me and you can order for me. I'll pay for both of us, so you see there is no way that I'm not going to come to you. There is one little request."

"What is that?"

"No peeking at my SMS or MMS messages, okay?"

"As if I'd be interested in what you, or your friends, have to say to each other." 

The name Guthrie Ainsworth conjures up images of a very proper English gentleman, with several paragraphs dealing with him and his antecedents in Debrett's Peerage or 'Who's Who', all pinstripe and bowler hat. Nothing could be further from the truth. He may have inherited the name from that section of English aristocracy, but he was Aussie through and through. "G'day Paddy, how're they hanging?"

"No complaints Mate. Have you got the stuff that you were after?"

"Not without going through a lot of bullshit from our friends in the police force. It would appear that they are of the mistaken opinion that we are going to crucify them. I had to lie through my teeth to convince them otherwise."

"So, what have you found, if anything?"

"There is a list of things that are of interest to us, once we can work out what they might mean. They have listed all of her phone records, both her mobile and your land-line. There are some interesting calls to and from someone that they either couldn't trace or chose not to in their haste to convict you. I have tried to trace them myself, but I have neither the expertise nor the patience. I'll give you the list, see if you can work out who the calls were to." He handed me several sheets of phone records. "Her last call was just fifteen minutes before her death, how that never set off alarm bells is beyond me." There were several items on the list that were highlighted in yellow. "One thing that has surprised me, they never spoke to any of her friends other than to see if her friends said anything that could incriminate you. None did."

"Of course they didn't. I would have expected nothing else from them."

"I had a guy that I use for such a purpose talk to some of them, and they were quite forthcoming with information that throws a whole new light on the subject. There was something bothering her in the weeks leading up to her death. She wouldn't tell them what it was except to say that it was nothing that was connected to you." 

"That's a relief at least."

"One of them mentioned that she had told her that she had taken a safety deposit box at a bank, not your usual one, and placed some papers in there for safe keeping. We have not yet been able to find out which bank it is, but we'll keep trying. You may have better luck, being as you're her husband."

"If you give me that person's details I can have a talk to her and see if I can find anything out. What about the kids' school, I haven't thought of this before, but maybe there was someone taking an interest in her, like a strange car that wasn't dropping off or picking up."

"I'll have that checked out."

"There is one other line of enquiry. Maybe, and this is a very long shot, but I seem to remember that there were problems with a guy that she worked with that was hitting on her, this was before Ryan was born. She had rejected him of course, and then when she told them at work that she was pregnant and planning to leave, he got really weird. She was glad to get out of there."

"Do you know his name?"

"No, but I can call one of the women that she worked with, I'm sure that she would remember."

"Do it. Is there anything else that you can think of?"

"No. I'll call you when I've found something out."

"That's it, think positive. Good luck Mate."

"Yeah, see ya." We shook hands and I left.

I saw her as soon as I entered the cafe. She stood and smiled at me as soon as the door closed behind me. God it did my heart good to see her. Even if we never saw each other again, today has been something else. I felt like a man again, a new man.

"I was beginning to worry." She said as I arrived at her table. "I kept looking at the phone and wishing it to ring, just to let me know that you were not a figment of my imagination who somehow lent me his phone." She handed it back to me. "I think that you should give me your phone number, just in case I need someone to talk to, a shoulder to cry on."

"I will if you will." She held her hand out for my phone. I have never seen anyone text so fast before. Within seconds she handed it back to me. I glanced at the screen. "Thank you Rachel Becket, I'll treasure this. Now what looks interesting?" I looked at the menu card that was standing in this holder thing, along with those long skinny tubes of sugar and condiments.

"I'm starving, I've just realised that I left home without breakfast. I'll have the spicy chicken foccacia with salad, a slice of the disgustingly fattening double chocolate cheesecake and a Latte, thank you." She pronounced it 'thenk ya'. I chose a club sandwich and a flat white coffee. There's no difference in the amounts of milk and coffee in both, for the latte the coffee is poured through the frothed milk, while the flat white the milk is poured over the coffee. I eschewed the dessert.

"I was thinking, while I was waiting for Guthrie, he's my Lawyer, to find time for me."

"Oh, oh."

"Hear me out. Why don't you start up one of those 'name and shame' Web sites and encourage others to name Professors who obtain sexual favours in response to giving higher grades. I'm sure that you're not alone among the female student population that has been hit on like this."

"I know that I'm not. Let me think about this. I need to speak to some of the others to see if they'll back me up on this before I go ahead with it."

"If you don't use you real names there'll be no come back, at least I hope not."

Our food arrived and we exchanged bits and pieces of conversation between mouthfuls. "When you hand your assignment in, are you in a group, like a tutorial group, or is it in person?"

"In a tute group, and they're handed back in the group as well." 

"When you questioned his grading, was that in his office or within the group?"

"In his office. He does not like to be questioned in public. He has made that very clear."

"Okay, what are you like as an actress?"

"I can get by most of the time, what do you have in mind?"

"Have you seen the last film of the Millennium Trilogy, 'The Girl Who Kicked the Hornets' Nest'?"

"Yes."

"Do you remember Lisbeth Salander's trial, how she was dressed?"

"Yes. If you're suggesting that I get a million piercings and a punk hair style you can forget it."

"You don't think that Noomi Rapace looks like that in real life, do you?"

"No, but I bet she spent hours in make-up to achieve that look."

"A lot of that was to make her face look as if she gone ten rounds with a threshing machine. I'm sure that a competent make-up artist could achieve something like that in a short period of time. I think a punk wig would cover your real hair, so there'll be no need to cut it, although, if you wanted to, you could revert back to your real colour and have it cut in a punk style." I was waiting for her reaction, was she going to deny that her hair colour was fake?

"I could do that. I'd feel strange, it has been this colour for years."

"You do realise that being a brunette would add another ten percentage points to your IQ don't you?" She had probably heard that one before, hundreds of times, but she laughed just the same.

"What do you intend that I do with this get-out?"

"When you go to your next lecture with him dressed as a punk, you approach him after the lecture and tell him that you're ready to have sex with him. See what he says, chances are that he'll bail. If he doesn't, in amongst your lecture notes and stuff in the bag that you'll have over your shoulder will be a miniature camcorder, I can provide that if you can't get hold of one, but they're freely available from most electronics stores. You shouldn't have sex with him, just fight him off, kick him in the balls if you feel that way inclined. You now have a record of his attempt to coerce you into sex for grades. Put that out on the Web and see what happens."

"All right, I'll think about it. I won't make any promises mind you. Now, I don't know what you have planned for the rest of the day, but I have an assignment to complete. I'll have to love you and leave you. I'm sure that you have enough to keep you occupied." We both stood to leave.

"Yes, I do. I have taken this morning off work to see my Lawyer, but I need to get back to work. I have some catching up to do, and now that I give the appearance of having shaken off the crap that I've gone through this past year, I can't expect them to carry me any longer. If you need me, call, okay?"

"I was just about the say the same thing. Good-bye then." She kissed me on the cheek, her hand that had rested on my shoulder moved up and caressed my cheek. And then she was gone, walking down the street away from me with that casual, loose limbed stride that I had already imagined to be the case. The sun shining through her dress created a spectacular silhouette. She was even gorgeous from behind.

The afternoon went quickly. I rang Georgia, one of the girls that Rosie had remained friends with after leaving work. "Hi George, it's Patrick, you know Rosie's husband."


Problems Shared



"Yes I know who you are. What took you so long?"

"What do you mean, what took me so long?"

"I would have thought that you would have called long before this to ask me about Rosie and her problems."

"I didn't know that she had any problems, but then I haven't been on this planet over the past twelve months. But, having said that, the very reason that I rang you, is that I found out this very morning, for the first time, that there were problems. The police never mentioned having investigated any problems that she might have been having. I need to discuss it with you as soon as possible."

"If you take me to dinner tonight, I will tell all."

"More than you told the cops?"

"Shit, it was obvious that they weren't interested in anything other than convicting you, because they never asked any questions other than Rosie's relationship with you. They were disappointed when I told them that I wished that I had a husband like you."

"I'm sorry George, but I have to be at home with the kids. I see them little enough as it is, and if I go to dinner with you I'll miss out on quality time with them. I don't want that."

"You can't blame a girl for trying. All right, if it can't be dinner tonight, how about taking me to lunch tomorrow?"

"I can probably manage that. You pick the time and the place and I'll be there."

"12:30 at, let me see, do you like Moroccan food?"

"I can't say that I've ever tried it, but I'm game for anything."

"Are you really? We'll see about that. Meet me at the Marrakesh at 12:30. Don't be late, I hate being left waiting."

I didn't much like the way that she said that. I had begun to wonder what price I would have to pay for her assistance, and if I was prepared to pay it.

I left work at 5:00 and drove over to Mum and Dad's place to pick up the kids. I had the strange feeling that I was being followed. I dismissed the thought. I rang the doorbell and I could hear the thunder of kids' feet as they rushed to the door to let me in. "Daddy!" Rhianna launched herself at me as soon as I was inside. I stooped and grabbed her as her arms went around my neck. I stood and grabbed Ryan around the shoulder as he closed the door. "I drawed a heffalump at school." She had a piece of paper in her hand on which was a grey blob with four barely recognisable legs and a trunk,

"That's great, I don't think that I could draw one as good as that. Will I be allowed to take this to work and pin it up in my office for everyone to see?"

"I did it for you, it's yours."

"Thank you Darling." I put her down as I entered the kitchen where Mum was cooking dinner for all of us.

"I see Picasso has shown you her latest masterpiece." Mum said. 

"Yes, isn't it amazing?" I turned to Ryan. "What did you get up to today?"

"Ryan got into trouble." Rhianna said.

"You weren't supposed to tell" He told her.

"You're going to have to tell me sooner or later, so what was this all about?"

In answer he handed me a note from the Principal requesting that I should go and see him in the morning.

"You had better tell me all about it, I need to know what is going on so that I can defend you."

"It wasn't my fault. Jason Morris kept yelling at me, he was saying 'Your Dad's a murderer', over and over again; I got sick of it and punched him. I made his nose bleed and he went running off to tell on me. I tried to tell Mister Lawrence, but he wouldn't take any notice of me."

"I'll have a talk with him and see if I can sort this out. What Jason did to you constitutes bullying, and if he does nothing about that I will take the matter further." That seemed to please him, the knowledge that his father was going to support him rather than chastise him.

Dinner was the usual informal affair with everyone talking at once between mouthfuls of food, sometimes through mouthfuls. It was close to 8:30 when I made a move to get the kids home. Rhianna was tired and I had to carry her to my car and strap her into her kiddie seat. Ryan, just big enough to graduate to a proper seatbelt, sat in front with me. He was nodding off by the time that we got home, so I shook him awake and gave him the door key to open up while I lifted Rhianna from her seat and carried her inside. I put her to bed and Ryan took himself to bed after cleaning his teeth and wishing me good-night.

I had just settled down at my computer when my phone rang. "This is Patrick, speak to me." I said.

"Hi, it's Rachel." The sound of her voice was music to my ears. "I tried ringing earlier but you must have been out." 

"Yeah, the kids and I had dinner with my parents."

"I thought that might have been the case. I like your answering machine message, I didn't bother to leave a message." 

(My OGM was in response to the seemingly never-ending phone calls from scammers telling me that they could give me a better deal on my energy costs, or that my Internet connection was about to be cut off because my system was infected and, unless I granted them access to remotely clean the system my computer would crash and burn. The message said; 'This is a recording, if you are calling me to encourage me to change my Telco or energy provider, or to tell me that you must have remote access to my computer, hang up now. If this is a personal call and you want me to reply to you, leave a message after the tone and I'll get back to you as soon as possible.' You would be surprised how many hang-ups I get.) 

"I'm glad that you called. Have you given any thought to what we spoke about this morning?"

"Yes. I spoke to some of the other girls and we are going to put together a Website to get this problem out there and see what sort of reaction we get. How about you?"

"I rang one of Rosie's old workmates, she's not old, just that she used to work . . . . I think I'll shut up and tell you what happened. She told me that Rosie did have something bothering her in the weeks just before she was killed, and that the police weren't interested in that. I'm having lunch with her tomorrow and she has promised to tell me all."

"I don't know that I'm happy with that."

"Why, it's perfectly straight forward. Oh." Call me slow, but it had taken a while for her meaning to sink in. "Don't tell me that you're jealous?"

"All right I won't, but I am. I did a lot of thinking after I left you, and I came to the realisation that you were the first man, that I have had a private conversation with, who not only didn't try to get into my pants, but actually helped me. This was a new experience for me and I liked it. I like you, and don't give me that bullshit about our age difference, you're not that much older than me."

"How old are you? No, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

"I'm 22, and in my final year of Uni. This isn't the first time that I have had a Prof hit on me, but this is the first that has been so blatant and persistent. The others took 'fuck off' as my final word and left it at that."

"As for me not wanting to get into your pants, that's not entirely true, I want to, but only if you want the same thing. I haven't yet worked out the logistics of this, but I will try to entice you into my boudoir at some time in the future."

"Can you give me a time-line on this future? How long is my freedom going to last?"

"Only as long, or short, as you want it to."

"Just make sure that you stay right away from the clutches of that other bitch."

"You have no worries there, she gave me the creeps." This was true, she did. It would not have surprised me if she was the one that followed me from work.

"I promise never to creep you out. As for the other thing, it has been a long time since I have felt this way about a man. Don't get me wrong, I'm not against sex as such, but I want so much for it to mean something other than having my primal urges met."

"It has been a year between drinks for me. I have come to realise that a family really needs to have more than one parent, and that the two parents should at all times be a good example of love, so that the kids can grow up knowing the difference between love and sex."

"So there's no pressure on me then? You and I can have sex as long as it's with love."

"That's how I feel, no love, no sex."

"Well then, we had better hurry up and get to know and love each other."

"Is this the same girl I met this morning who was so weighed down with the cares of the world that she could hardly speak?"

"Yes it is, and I have you to thank for my transformation. I think that I might take up another of your ideas, punk sounds good." 

"You don't have to do it if you don't want to."

"I know, let me think about it some more. When am I going to see you again?"

"I have a bit of time in the morning, after I've dropped the kids off at school and before I have to be at work. I could meet you where we met this morning. You do remember where that was, don't you?"

"If you're going to be insulting, forget it." She laughed, that was nice, it was the first time I've heard her laugh and it sounded so good. "I'll see you then. 'Bye."

What the hell is happening to me? It's been twelve months since I've had a meaningful conversation with a young woman, and now I have one that I want to see again so badly that it hurts, and one that I have distinct reservations about, but that I have to see. With that in mind I shut down my computer and went to bed.

The morning ritual was in full swing, the kids had scoffed their breakfast while I made their lunches for them. They brushed their teeth while I cleared up the dishes, and just as I reached the front door my phone rang. "Hello."

"Hello lover, it's George. I just rang to remind you of our lunch date."

"I didn't need reminding. Look George, I've got to get the kids to school, I'll see you at 12:30 okay?"

"Do you know where the Marrakesh is?"

"My Sat Nav will guide me. Look I've got to go." I turned off the phone and climbed into the car.

As usual there was a queue at the drop-off zone outside the school and I was forced to wait forever to drop the kids off. "See you at Grandma's, 'bye." I kissed Rhianna, Ryan was too old for that sort of stuff, so he waved to me as he ran to catch up to a couple of his mates. It didn't take me long to get to where I met Rachel yesterday, and she was already there. Her face lit up when she saw me get out of my car. Today she was in jeans and a shirt, and she still looked great. "Hi." She reached up and kissed me. She even tasted great.

"Hi to you. Have you been waiting long? I got caught up in the school drop-off log jam."

"No, I only just got here myself. Would you like a coffee, my treat?"

"Sure, I'd love it." There was a cafe across the road, so we headed for that. We ordered and found a seat at the back where we could have a little privacy.

"What time do you have to be at work?"

"My time is pretty flexible, but I should be there by 9:30, we have a meeting at 10:00 that I have to be at, so that gives us a little time together. How is the Web site going?"

"We've got some of the IT students designing a page for us with links to Facebook, Twitter and we're planning something for You Tube. We want to cover as many bases as we can."

"Sounds like you're really getting in to this thing. Please, don't let this campaign distract you from your studies."

"Don't worry, I won't." She was about to say something else but was interrupted by the arrival of our coffees. "I want to be successful, not just for myself, but for my family, and you."

"Don't you think that you're rushing this a little? After all, we've known each other for all of a day."

"I know. Don't worry, I'm not going to get all possessive and ring you all the time and stuff like that. I just want to keep myself in the loop."

"I don't see that as a problem. Look Rachel, I like you, a lot. But you have to remember that I've been out of circulation for a year now, and I'm afraid that if we rush this we might end up making a mess of things and split up. I don't want that to happen. I want to give this the best shot at succeeding."

She reached across the table and grabbed my hand. "You want what I want, that to me is a good starting point. Don't worry, I'm not going to pressure you into doing something that you'll regret."

"Thank you for that, and for this, all of this. Now I'm going to have to make a move." I stood to leave and Rachel stood. It seemed so natural when we kissed that we held it for longer than we had intended. "I'll call you tonight, 'bye." My arm was around her and I gave her body a squeeze in parting. Her smile said more than any words.

The meeting with the Principal was thankfully short and to the point. "Ryan told me that you wanted to see me."

"Yes. I had to discipline him yesterday for punching a fellow student. We just cannot have that kind of behaviour in this school."

"But you do nothing about bullying."

"What do you mean?"

"Ryan told me that the reason that he punched Jason Morris was that he was taunting him by shouting at him that I was a murderer. Now I realise that my arrest and trial was the focus of attention for some time, and that, even though I was acquitted, because there has been no further arrests, this has left the whole sorry episode in limbo. There are some out there that are still convinced of my guilt, to have my son continually reminded of the loss of his mother is beyond a joke. Unless you take steps to see that this sort of bullying does not continue, I will be forced to take the matter up with the head of your department. Do I make myself clear?"

"I wasn't aware of this."

"I suggest that in future you investigate the whole story before you punish one person. You will ensure that this doesn't happen again I take it?"

"Yes. I will take the appropriate action."

The meeting at work was a bitch. I was told that I would have to work up redundancy packages for at least 100 workers. Since our company had taken over another company in the same field that we operated in, we had found ourselves with a lot of functional duplication. I was given the task of reviewing the current staff and identifying under-performers that could be culled. I hated this part of my job, it meant interviewing staff that had been pre-warned by the grapevine that heads were about to roll. There would be tears, there would be anger, and I would be blamed for all of this, not those higher up the corporate ladder.

I set my assistant the task of pulling all personnel files, starting from the central administrative division. We would work through them, division by division to identify those that we would interview.

12:30 and I was still in a lousy mood as I entered the Marrakesh Moroccan restaurant to have my nose assailed by the spices coming from the food of those already eating. George stood as I approached, my mood was not about to change any time soon, she looked pissed off at me. "Hi."

"Who the fuck is she?" She demanded.

"Who is who?"

"That bitch that I saw you having a tête a tête with this morning, that's who."

"She is a client."

"Don't fucking bullshit me you bastard!" The other diners stopped mid dine and stared at her.

"Have you been stalking me?"

"I'm just protecting my interests."

"Was that you that followed me to my parents' place last night when I went to pick up the kids?"

She didn't answer. So it was going to be like that, was it?

"I thought as much. Why?"

"You wouldn't understand."

"Try me."

"Years ago I was in love with this guy at work, and he told me that he was in love with me. This was before Rosie started with us. When she arrived he dropped me like a ton of bricks and went panting after her. She totally ignored him, told him that she was happily married and would never think of cheating on her wonderful husband. She never stopped telling me just how wonderful you were, it was nauseating. But he never gave up, he started ringing her at home after she left to have Ryan. It got so bad that she had an answering machine installed and vetted all incoming calls, refusing to answer when he called. He even took to disguising his voice, but she saw right through that one. It got worse after Rhianna was born, he was so angry with you that he told me that he could quite easily kill you. I suggested that he should get help and he reluctantly agreed. It didn't last long, and he was back ringing her and stalking her. He would be at the supermarket at the same time as her. He never let her alone, he was always there, following her. I think that he was responsible for her death, he wouldn't have had the guts to do it himself, but he could have hired someone. I think that's what was in the papers that she left at the bank."

"Do you know which bank?"

"Yes, it was the Federation Bank around the corner from where we worked, where she used to work. She knew some of the staff there, so it was no problem getting a safety deposit box."

She had ordered when she had arrived, a lamb tagine with cuscus, and it arrived. We tore of bits of flat bread and used this to scoop up the slow cooked spicy lamb dish. It was a bit messy but tasted better than I had expected. I thought that I would bring Rachel here when I got around to inviting her out for dinner.

I glanced at my watch. "Look, this has been nice, the food was great, but I've got to get back to work. You know what they say, 'no rest for the wicked', that's me, the wicked one." I stood to leave, but she fore-stalled me.

"Don't I get a kiss?" I kissed her lightly on the cheek. "Come on, you can do better than that, you did this morning." I kissed her on the lips and extricated myself from her grasp. "I'll have you yet." She called after me.

There's something not quite right about what she told me. If he was so obsessed with Rosie, why would he have her killed? Surely I would have been the target. I was going to have to access that safety deposit box to see what was in it.

All thoughts along those lines were pushed to the background by the job at hand. I arranged for my staff to drop everything and help me to short-list likely redundancy prospects. These were divided into two piles, those reaching retirement age to whom a package would appear to be an attractive proposition, and those who had been identified as under-performers. The job got worse at this point, we didn't have the required numbers. This meant a review of each division of the company to identify the areas where there was the most fat. If there were staff, in those divisions, that we did not want to lose, then we would have to create positions in other divisions by trimming from the lowest performers in them.

This work kept us totally focussed all afternoon. At 5:00 I called a halt. "That's it for today guys. Thank you all for your efforts, you have done a great job. Go home and get a good night's sleep, we're in for a long day tomorrow."

I tidied my desk, locked the files away and left. I hadn't been imagining things last night, I was again being followed. I decided that no purpose would be achieved by trying to shake off my tail, my routine was too well known, so I headed straight for Rosie's parents house. I was greeted by the kids at the front door, Ryan holding it open for me and Rhianna waiting for me to scoop her into my arms. They both chattered away, vying for my attention. Eventually a calm of sorts settled over them and Ryan won out. "Dad, you must have said something to Mister Lawrence, because he came to our class and gave us a long talk about playground bullying. Jason had this smirk all over his face until Mr Lawrence told the class that what he was doing to me yesterday was just as much bullying as me punching him. While he said that what I did was wrong, he understood what had led to me hitting Jason, and that if it occurred in future I was to go straight to him and let him sort it out."




Problems Shared



"Me now." Rhianna said. "Miss Prince gave me this for you to sign. She's taking us to a petting zoo to see the baby animals and you have to tell her that I can go."

"Sure Honey, you can go." I took the paper from her and signed it.

We didn't stay for dinner with Rosie's parents, they both had meetings to get to, so we went straight home. The kids watched kids TV while I cooked their dinner for them and we watched a couple of sitcoms until it was time for them to go to bed.

As soon as they were safely tucked up in bed I went to my study and rang Rachel. "Hi, before you ask, apart from this morning, I've had a shit of a day."

"Your lunch didn't go well then?"

"That was just a part of what turned out to be something of a disaster. Do you remember me telling you that she creeped me out, well nothing has changed in that area. She started off by getting angry with me for seeing you this morning. That creeped me out let me tell you. Then she told me a whole lot of stuff that I didn't know that Rosie was going through leading up to her death, and now she has virtually accused this guy that was stalking her of murdering her. But the more that I thought about this, the less plausible I found it. There is something not quite right about it, but I can't place my finger on it. What I need to do is to track this guy down and get his side of the story. My big problem is that I won't be able to take any time off work for the next week or so. I wouldn't mind so much if it was something that I liked doing, but believe me, this is one part of my job that I can do without."

"Maybe I can help you, I have a bit of spare time over the next week or two, so if there is anything that I can do to help, don't hesitate to ask."

"There is. Can you come to my office at 2:00 tomorrow afternoon, by then I should have the contents of the safety deposit box and had a chance to look at what is in there. If there is something that you can follow up on, then I can give you the information and you can get on it."

"I'll be there, wherever that is." I gave her the address and told her to speak to the receptionist who'll tell her where my office is.

"How is your campaign going?"

"The girls have already started to send their stuff out and the response is frightening, this is bigger than I thought. I'll fill you in tomorrow morning, shall I?"

"Of course, I'm so bushed that I forgot about our morning meetings. Same time as this morning?"

"Same time, same place? Or shall we make it a different place?"

"Probably a good idea. I'll drop the kids off as usual and then drive to the train station. I'll catch the train to the domestic terminal and meet you at the top of the stairs on the concourse. We can find a cafe somewhere and grab a coffee. How does that sound to you?"

"She's got you ducking for cover, hasn't she?"

"It's not me that I'm worried about, I'd hate to think of what she would do to you if she put her mind to it. I'm going to talk to Guthrie tomorrow, once I get a peek at what's in the box. First thing is to get some sort of protection for you if she should get nasty. If there's somewhere in the box where Rosie mentions this guy by name he can probably track him down quicker than we can."

"Thank you for caring. I can take care of myself I'll have you know."

"Against a normal person maybe, but I've got a horrible feeling that she's seriously unhinged. Look, I'd better go, I've just heard Rhianna heading for the bathroom, and she'll come down here to get me to tuck her back into bed. If I'm talking to someone she'll want to know who it is, and I don't want to lie to her, and it's way too soon to spring you on them. 'Bye Love."

"I like that. See you in the morning Darling."

"You work too hard Daddy." Rhianna's voice said from the doorway.

"Daddy has a lot of work to do. Come, give me a hug and I'll tuck you back into bed."

"I love you Daddy." She said sleepily as I tucked her in and gave her a kiss.

"Go to sleep."

"Yes . . Daddy. . . ." It never ceased to amaze me how kids could drop off to sleep just like that. 

I varied the usual routine after dropping the kids at school. Instead of driving off in the direction I had been heading, I made a 'U' turn and drove to the train station. I caught a train to the Domestic terminal at the airport and Rachel was waiting for me at the top of the escalators. "Hi, how are you this morning?" She asked just after she had kissed me.

"Fine, really good. We won't have to worry about being seen by you know who."

"Good, I want to tell you what has happened with our campaign. It has gone viral! It is bigger than I anticipated, we are getting feeds from all over the world, especially America where it seems to be the done thing. But the big news is that I'm not the only girl that my particular Prof has been hitting on. With the number of girls claiming to have not only been hit on by him, but have actually had sex with him, I'm surprised that he ever gets any work done. He has a veritable harem happening. It's only a matter of time before the Uni Admin gets wind of this and they'll be forced to take some sort of action."

"It's also a matter of time before the media takes up the campaign. This is the sort of story that they feed on. My concern is that the professors that are named will not take this lying down. They will probably fight back and fight dirty. I don't want you to get hurt by this."

"I don't think that's likely to happen. This has been set up in such a way that it is almost impossible to trace the source. The original post was routed through literally hundreds of servers before it surfaced. And as soon as it was out there the original server was shut down."

"I wish that I knew my way around a computer like you do. We have to use them in HR, doing wages and stuff like that, and keeping track of the hours that staff work, and I can handle that reasonably well, but get me to do something that I'm not used to, and I'd flounder big time."

"Well then, you'd have to call on my expertise, wouldn't you?"

"As if I'd need an excuse to call on you. Getting on to the subject of this afternoon, I don't know what I'll find in the box, so we'll have to play it by ear until we make some sense of it. I won't be able to spend too much time on it, I have my job to do. And it's something that I can't delegate, the decisions are mine to make, and mine alone. If it's okay with you, and it needs immediate attention, I'll leave you in my office to work on it, Judy, she's my Assistant, will look after you if you need anything, coffee, whatever, feel free to ask."

"I will. It will be great to see where you work and what you do, and what people think of you, not that this will affect the way I feel about you." She smiled at me. "You know, I could quite easily be falling in love with you."

"That's good, I feel the same way about you, but we have a lot of hurdles to jump before we can take this anywhere. I have to tell you, I will not be rushed. Any decision that I, we, make will impact on the rest of our lives. I am a cautious man."

"Good. You had better get to work. I'll see you this afternoon." We stood, we kissed, and I walked back down to the train platform to catch a train into the CBD and work.

"Where the fuck did you get to this morning?" Georgia's angry voice screamed at me thirty seconds after I had sat behind my desk. I had been warned. Judy told me as I walked past her desk that she had three phone calls from her already. 

"I'll handle her." I said with as much confidence as I could muster. "Oh, were we supposed to meet this morning? I wasn't aware that we had an appointment."

"You know what I fucking mean. You snuck off to see your bit of fluff, didn't you?"

"I didn't sneak anywhere. I had an appointment to keep this morning, so I kept it. I didn't think that I needed your permission to do that."

"I want to see you."

"I don't particularly want to see you. Call me insensitive, but your aggressive manner is a real turn-off for me. I find very little to like about you, so please, I'm asking you nicely, do not call me again, and do not follow me again. Is that understood?"

"Patrick, what can I say? I've gotten off on the wrong foot here, haven't I? But I can change, just you wait and see, I can be the perfect woman for you, I want to be your perfect woman. Give me another chance, please, please, don't make me beg. I love you Patrick, I have loved you for a long time but you didn't even know that I existed. Your whole world revolved around Rosie and your kids, I couldn't get a look-in. I lost count of the number of nights that I cried myself to sleep because you ignored me."

"Good-bye George, I have work to do." I hung up the phone. I pushed the intercom button. "Judy, if she calls again, I'm not here, understood?"

"Yes Boss."

My real work took up the rest of the morning and it was a relief when Judy came in and told me that I had arranged to go to the bank.

I didn't have any problem gaining access to the safety deposit box once I'd established that I was Rosie's husband and reminding the bank that I was Executer of her estate and, as such, had every right to access it. It contained a sealed envelope that I took back to work with me before opening it. To say its contents troubled me would be understating the facts. She had meticulously chronicled the events of the six months prior to her murder. It began with a disturbing phone call from the man, Brendan Carlisle, George's reputed lover, in which he invited Rosie to dinner. She refused, telling him that she was happily married and just going to dinner with him would, in her eyes, constitute a betrayal of her marriage vows. He did not take it well. Several more calls took place, each sounding more desperate than the previous, until she asked reception to take all calls, and only transfer work related calls and those from me.

This put a temporary halt to his harassment, but it began again in a much more subtle way. He took to writing and sending begging emails and text messages to her mobile phone. She blocked his number on her mobile, and listed his email address as spam. His Facebook page claimed that he was in a committed relationship with her, and that they planned to marry once she divorced me. It was forwarded to her by Georgia who was totally pissed off with the whole episode, and very publicly broke off her own relationship with him. Now this is where it got very weird. He claimed that his Facebook account had been hacked and that he had made no such claim about Rosie at all, and that he was still in a committed relationship with Georgia. Rosie took her problem to her boss and he called Brendan into his office for a 'quiet word'. Brendan denied all of this had happened and that he had been set up by someone, he didn't know who, but that it had severely damaged his relationship with Georgia, who he still loved her very much.

Tensions in the office ran high. Brendan was ostracised by the other staff to the point that they refused to work with him, did not reply when he spoke to them, and whenever he entered the lunch room they would get up and leave, even throwing perfectly good food into the bin just so that they didn't have to be in the same room.

Brendan went on extended sick leave, he could no longer cope with the treatment that he received from people that he once considered friends. But the cyber-attacks on Rosie continued right up until the time that she went on maternity leave to have Ryan. She never contemplated the return of these attacks until Rhianna started school and she explored the possibility of returning to work. The day after her interview with the General Manager and her being shown around the office to meet the staff that weren't there before she went on leave, they began again.

Rosie began to withdraw into herself. I had noticed subtle differences in her behaviour, but she told me that she was concerned about going back to work after such a long absence. She never got to go back. In the week before she was supposed to return to work she disappeared.

"After I drop the kids off at school, I'm going shopping. I realised, seeing the other women in the office, that my work clothes are totally out of fashion. I have to look good, and make a good first impression."

"You will always look good, and I'm not just saying that to stop you spending all of my money on clothes. Having said that, go ahead, you deserve it."

"I promise not to spend all of your money." She kissed me. There was nothing in that kiss that was a precursor to what was to come.

My first indication that something was wrong was the phone call from the school. "Mr. O'Laughlin, it's Felicity Kensett from the school. We are a little concerned, Mrs O'Laughlin hasn't picked your children up yet."

"Have you tried to call her at home?"

"Yes, it went straight to message bank. We've tried her mobile and it rings out."

"I'm on my way, call me if she turns up in the mean time. No, don't bother with that, I'll need to talk to her. No, forget that, I'll see you soon." I was confused. This was totally out of character for Rosie. On the few times that she had been delayed for some reason she had contacted either her mother or mine to pick the kids up. Why hadn't she done this? I was beginning to panic, and my panic was not eased when I got to the school to find the kids still there.

I called the police. The person that I spoke to suggested that I go home and wait a while, that she was just delayed. I tried to convince them that this was so out of character that it was certain that something had happened to her. The school suggested that I should go home and wait, probably because having the police there was not a good look as far as the school's image was concerned. Regardless of that, when there was nothing, no sign of her, half an hour later, I called the police again. They reluctantly agreed to dispatch a patrol car.

Sections of the media obviously had ears on police communications, because they arrived before the police. The Interview that set the tone for the police investigation was taking place when they arrived. "Mr O'Laughlin, it is less than an hour since the alarm was first raised, what makes you think that something bad has happened to your wife Rosie?"

"Because this is so totally at odds with her normal behaviour. If this had been a regular occurrence I could understand the police's lack of urgency, but this sort of thing has never happened before. In the past she has contacted either her mother or mine to pick the kids up from school. She did not do this on this occasion, and I'm afraid of what could have prevented her from doing that. Something bad has happened, I know that, I can feel that. I just want her back. If she has been in an accident I want to hear from any hospital that has admitted her, no matter what condition she is in I must see her. If someone has taken her, please, contact me. Spare her life, if not for my sake, think of the children who know, as well as I do, that something is keeping her from them. Whatever you want, I will give it to you. If you want a life, take mine, I will give that to you to spare hers." Yes there were tears. I'm not ashamed of the tears that I shed. The cut-away shot focussed on my face as I wiped the tears from my eyes and cheeks.

"Very impressive, I must say." It was a policeman. "I'm Sergeant Charles, and this is Constable Wenham. Don't you think that you're jumping the gun a little with that impassioned plea?"

"No. Look Sergeant, Charles? I know my wife, and I know that the only way that she would not have been here to pick up the kids, or arranged for one of their grandmothers to pick them up, is that she is somehow being prevented from doing that. If she could have, she would have. What more do I need to tell you?"

"When was the last time that you saw your wife?"

"This morning, before I left for work."

"What were her plans for the day?"

"She was dropping the kids to school and then she was going shopping. She is due to return to work next week and was going shopping for new clothes."

"How did you feel about that?"

"How did I feel about what? Her returning to work, or her going shopping?"

"Both. Were you in favour of her returning to work?"

"Yes. Initially it was to be part-time so that she could fit in the kids' school runs, but it would have ultimately returned to being a full-time job, in a year or two. As for the shopping, she needed new clothes, her old clothes were out of fashion, and as the Human Resources Director of the company that I work for, I know the importance of making a good first impression. No I had no problem with her going shopping, in fact if she hadn't planned to do just that I would have suggested it."

"Can you account for your time today?"

"Are you suggesting that I somehow had something to do with this?"

"We need to cover all bases. Now answer the question, can you account for your time today?"

"Not all of it, no. You would have found this out for yourselves so I might as well tell you up front. I had work to do early, but at 9:30 I took my car to the dealership to get it serviced. It was a nice day, and I wasn't in a rush to get back to work, so instead of calling for a cab, I decided to walk. I was back in the office by 10:45. That can be verified by the movements log kept at reception."

"So, we have an hour and fifteen minutes unaccounted for. Time enough for you to have done the deed and gotten back to work."

"I don't believe this. Are you trying to tell me that I could have found my wife when I didn't know which shop she would have been at, killed her and disposed of the body, cleaned up any forensic evidence of my dastardly deed and returned to work in an hour and fifteen minutes, you have to be joking."

"Murder, and that is what you are suggesting took place here, is no joking matter. I think that you should come with us to the station so that we can conduct this interview away from the prying eyes and ears of the media."

"I have no problem with them being here."

"But we do. We will be asking you questions that may not have any direct bearing on what happened, but in the course of our investigation may give us something to go on, some lead as to what actually happened." 

I couldn't for the life of me understand this, but went with them. This was the beginning of the unravelling of my life. I had been in the interview room going round in circles as they asked the same questions over and over again. Then an officer came in and handed a file to them and whispered something to Sergeant Charles.

"Your car, Mr O'Laughlin, you say that you left it at the dealership at, let me see, 9:30. When did you pick it up?"

"I didn't. The arrangement was for the dealership to drop it at work when they had finished with it. It was delivered back at 3:00."

"How do you know that?"

"Because the receptionist dropped my keys to me and told me that my car had just been returned."

"That was the arrangement, yes, but we have been informed that it didn't happen that way at all. The job was finished at 12:00, but when they went to return it later on when they could spare the staff, it wasn't there. It had been picked up sometime during the afternoon. Where were you this afternoon?"

"I was in my office all afternoon."

"And you can verify that?"

"Yes, Judy, my assistant was with me all afternoon."

"And this is the assistant that rumours have it you were having an affair?"

"What? What are you talking about? I am not having an affair with Judy, or anyone else for that matter."

"Strange, the information that we have is that you have been putting it about quite freely."

"That's a lie!!" I was getting angry with them. Why weren't they out investigating what actually happened to Rosie, rather than this preposterous line of questioning? 




Problems Shared



"Is there a way out of your building other than going out the front door and entering details in the Movements Log?"

"Well yes, there is a back entrance that goes directly to the car park. We use that only when leaving after hours when the front door is locked and the receptionist has gone home."

"So, you could have slipped out the back way sometime during the afternoon, asking your assistant to cover for you, gone off and killed your wife, disposed of her body and returned, and the only person that would know about this would be your lover, your assistant. Very clever, Mr O'Laughlin."

"You have no evidence of that."

"Not yet but we will get it. In the mean time we will detain you, you are 'assisting us with our inquiries'."

"So I'm not under arrest then?"

"No, you are merely assisting us with our inquiries."

"So I don't need to call my Lawyer then"

"You may need to in the morning. But you can safely leave it for now." He turned to Constable Wenham, "Take him down to the Presidential Suite and make sure that he has a comfortable night's sleep, will you Constable." The Presidential Suite was a room with no view whatever. It was a cold grey cell with a bunk bed on which was an excuse for a mattress and a blanket, no pillow. The only other item of furniture was a stainless steel toilet pan.

I did not sleep well at all. What had gone through my head all through the night was now just a blur. I was tired, I was dishevelled, I was unshaven, and I was a walking mug shot as they led me into the court. I had only been allowed a brief consultation with my Lawyer before the hearing, not enough to review the evidence that the police would present. "They haven't made it easy for us." Guthrie said as we sat and waited for the Magistrate. "They claim that they have evidence of motive and opportunity, the only one of the big three that they don't have is the method. At best what they have is circumstantial and speculative, not concrete. We have to hope that the Magistrate sees this for the lack of evidence that it is." He was interrupted by the arrival of the Magistrate. 

The case was called and Sergeant Charles took the stand. The police Prosecutor began the examination of the witness. "Would you tell this court Sergeant Charles, what evidence do you have that Patrick O'Laughlin murdered his wife Rosie?"

"We have motive and opportunity, and we are confident that we will shortly have evidence of the means. The prisoner has claimed that he was in his office all yesterday afternoon. The only person who can corroborate his alibi is Judith Robinson, his assistant, and his lover. This gives us the motive, to eliminate his wife so that he can be with his lover, and the opportunity that he needed to carry out this crime. We have found forensic evidence that places the deceased in the boot of his car at some time. Blood taken from the boot carpet matches the blood type of the deceased, DNA testing will confirm that it is her blood. Our investigations will find where he has disposed of the body, and that will be enough to provide the means used to carry out the heinous crime."

"How does the defendant respond to these allegations?"

"My client vigorously denies any involvement in this crime, if in fact a crime has taken place. We do not know if Rosie O'Laughlin is in fact deceased. She, it would seem, has been under some stress due to the fact of her returning to work. She could just be taking a time out to get her head around this event. There is no evidence that a crime has in fact taken place."

"If a crime has not taken place that is." Sergeant Charles said. "How does the defendant explain why his wife has acted against her previous character and either picked up his children from school, or arranged someone else to pick them up? He himself could not explain the reason for that other than to claim that something bad had happened to her. He knew that something bad had happened because he did that bad thing. He murdered his wife. We demand that he be remanded in custody. We will oppose any bail application based on the fact that he travels extensively overseas, has a current passport, so would be considered to be a flight risk."

"It would seem that there exists a prima face case of murder. I rule that the defendant be remanded in custody pending his trial on these charges."

"Your honour, the defendant applies for bail in this instance. He is not a flight risk, he has two children who depend on him for their care and well-being. They are very confused at this time, wondering where their parents are, unable to come to terms with the fact that their mother is missing and that they may never see her again, and now that their father who loves them and who they love, is somehow responsible for their mother being missing. There is no irrefutable evidence of my client's involvement in her disappearance. His family needs him at this time. If necessary he will surrender his passport. Allow him to go home to those who depend on him."

"Application denied."

I sat in stunned silence. How could this be? Guthrie came with me to the remand centre and tried hard to lift my spirits. It didn't work. "Hang in there Patrick. I'll get my best man onto it straight away and we'll see what we can find out. In the mean time I will talk to your parents and let them know exactly what has happened. They have gone to my offices and are waiting for me."

I was back in court. This time I was clean shaven, scrubbed clean and wearing freshly pressed clean clothes. "They have nothing more than they had before, no body, and the people that they have questioned about your relationship with Rosie have all supported you. We, on the other hand, have evidence that shoots their theory out of the water. Prepare yourself for some fireworks. Let the battle be joined."

The preliminaries over the Prosecutor called on Sergeant Charles to give his evidence. It was merely a rehash of the evidence that he gave at the preliminary hearing. The best that he could do was to state that investigations were ongoing and that a breakthrough was imminent."

It was Guthrie's turn to ask the questions. "Sergeant Charles, you have just given evidence that you claim substantiates your theory, and it is nothing more than that, a theory, that the defendant Patrick O'Laughlin did in fact murder his wife Rosie O'Laughlin. In this evidence you claim that the defendant left his office by a rear door and proceeded to carry out this crime, and that he was aided and abetted in this by his assistant Judith Robinson. Did you at any time check the CCTV footage from the camera that covered the rear exit to the building?"

"No."

"And why didn't you?"

"We were told that there was no CCTV coverage."

"You were told that there was no coverage. Who did you ask?"

"I don't remember his name."

"Would you like to consult your notes to jog your memory?"

"Maybe I didn't write it down."

"Maybe you didn't write it down" Guthrie said slowly, drawing it out ready to lower the boom. "You didn't write it down because you didn't ask anyone, we did. And you didn't check it out for yourself because you knew that it would not support your theory that my client was guilty. We have checked it out, we ran the footage for the entire afternoon and at no time did the defendant leave the building by that doorway. If you want to see it for yourself then we are quite happy to show it. " Sergeant Charles muttered something. "What was that? Did you just say that it would not be necessary?"

"Yes."

"What we also checked out was the phone logs from the defendant's office phone and his mobile. We found several phone calls from his office phone and followed up by contacting those people that he talked to. I have here several Statutory Declarations from these people, all stating that they did talk to the defendant at the times indicated by those call logs. Are all of these people lying Sergeant Charles, have they all perjured themselves for this man? You wouldn't know because you never checked that vital piece of evidence, did you Sergeant Charles?"

"No." 

"Now, as for the other part of this fantasy of yours, this non-existent liaison between the defendant and his Assistant, Judith Robinson. When you asked her about this she denied it, is this not correct?"

"Yes."

"Did you ask any of the other staff about this?"

"Yes." 

"Did any of them support your theory?"

"No."

"So, you made these allegations based on what? You based this on the fact that Judith Robinson supported the defendant's story. Not only that, but she also stated that she thought that he could never have committed this act, because he loved his wife too much. Is this not true Sergeant Charles?"

"Yes."

"In fact, all of the police investigation was based on your interpretation of statistics that have shown that most murders of this kind, and we assume that this is a murder, although this is yet to be proven, were carried out by a close family member, and that often it is the same person that is making the heartfelt plea for the safe return of the missing person. The defendant did nothing more in this case, than make just such a heartfelt plea for the safe return of his wife, his much loved wife, and the loving mother of his two children. Is this not true Sergeant Charles? You acted on nothing more than a hunch, is this also not true?"

"Yes."

"Your Honour, I move that due to the lack of any credible evidence in support of the police theory, all charges against the defendant be dropped and that he be allowed to leave this court a free man."

"I so rule."

I was free. I was able to return home to my family, my kids, who, when Guthrie told my parents that he was supremely confident of an acquittal, were allowed to stay at home and wait for my return. I have not been this happy since this whole mess began.

But it took a long time for my life to get back to anything resembling normal. By the end of my first week back at work my boss took me aside and told me to go home and seek help to sort my life out. I was suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, and that took time to treat. I was helped by my family and Rosie's, all of whom rallied around me in my time of need. I owed them a lot, believe me.

This brings me to the here and now. I was still poring over the papers when Judy came in. "There's a young lady wanting to see you, she doesn't seem to have an appointment." 

"Send her in. Her name is Rachel by the way."

"She's a very nice young lady this Rachel of yours."

"What do you mean by that remark?"

"She's not just any young lady, she's someone special. Don't look at me like that, mother knows." She said tapping the side of her nose.

"Don't be silly, and send her in."

"It's about time." She said as a parting shot at me.

Rachel breezed in. "That lady out there looked at me funny."

"Yeah, she's of the opinion that we are an item."

"Are we?"

"You could say that."

"I say that we should confirm it." She didn't give me any chance to differ, launching herself at me she kissed me, just as Judith walked in with a huge smile on her face.

"You should never argue with mother, she is always right."

"You were spying."

"Of course. What do you expect, a very attractive young lady arrives unannounced and without an appointment, I just had to find out more. It's about time I say. It takes the pressure off me after all of those nasty things that dumb cop said about us at your trial, he had some people convinced that you and I were having some sort of torrid, sordid affair. As if. Now I can spread the word that our Patrick has found himself a girl. He has found himself one, hasn't he?"

"Will you be quiet, we have work to do. Go file your talons and use them on someone else." I told her.

"No I will not. If you two have work to do I can only assume that it is something to do with Rosie's disappearance and I want to help."

"But you and I have work type work to do.'

"That can wait another half a day, this sounds like more fun."

"You could be right there, I wasn't looking forward to it. Okay, let's look at what's in this lot of papers, shall we?"

They each took several pages and began to read through them.

"This Brendan Carlisle, who is he when he's at home, and where does he fit into this picture?" Rachel looked up from the page that she was reading.

"He was the bloke that was harassing Rosie. I think that he was being treated for some mental illness."

"It says here that he was admitted to a Mental Health facility and is still there, still protesting that he never did any of the things that he was accused of. The prognosis is that until he acknowledges his guilt, he will never be able to move on from this. It looks as if he could be in for the duration." 

"I'm beginning to suspect that he could just be right. If he was madly in love with Rosie, as had been suggested, why would he kill her? I should have been the target."

"Maybe someone who wanted Rosie out of the way so that she could get her fangs into you wanted to kill two birds with one stone. Get rid of her clinging boyfriend and the wife of the man that she fancied, and to make it look as if it was a deranged man who killed her because he couldn't have her." Rachel said.

"That lady that was ringing you up, what was her name?"

"Georgia. She has shown herself to be insanely jealous of Rachel, even though we aren't even lovers."

"And why is that? Judy asked.

"Judy! How could you say such a thing?" I asked. I noticed Rachel smile and not say anything. "We have only just met and I want to get to know her and be very sure of my feelings toward her, and probably even introduce her to the kids before I make any commitment along those lines."

"Chicken." Rachel said. "Actually I agree with you. I do not want you to feel pressured into making a hasty decision. I want you to be comfortable in yourself before we consummate our relationship, however long that takes." She smiled at me and reached for my hand. "But it had better not take too long. Now where were we?"

"I think that Georgia is emerging as a likely candidate. She may not have done it herself, but I wouldn't put it past her to hire someone. I think that I'll give Guthrie a ring and run this past him to see what he says."

I made the call. "Guthrie, it's Patrick."

"Patrick, are you psychic or what? I was just about to call you. We have gone over the police evidence and we have a likely suspect, and you'll never guess who it is."

"Georgia." 

"Wow, you should take your psychic act on the stage, you'd make a fortune. How did you come to that conclusion?"

"A couple of things have surfaced, not the least of which is that she has shown, in the way that she has been stalking me and making weird phone calls, that she can be insanely jealous, border-line psychotic even, and capable of doing just about anything. Then there was the fact that Rosie was being harassed by, we were supposed to believe, Brendan Carlisle, a co-worker, and supposed lover of Georgia. He denied any of this, but lost the plot and was committed to a psychiatric facility, where he still resides, still protesting his innocence. We are inclined to believe that he might be innocent. The fact that the harassment continued after he was committed led us to believe that here was another person involved, a person whose vested interest was in getting rid of Rosie and having Brendan blamed for it, someone who wanted me. Georgia has made no secret of the fact that she was interested in me when I first contacted her for information about Rosie's behaviour immediately before her death."

"You keep saying 'we', who is the other part of this first person twosome?"

"A very nice. . . "Rachel mouthed 'very nice' with one eyebrow raised in a questioning manner. I held up my hand to silence her. "Young lady who I have taken a fancy to . . " I got the thumbs up gesture from her this time. "Guthrie, say hello to Rachel."

"Hello Rachel. I'm sure that you are a ravishingly beautiful young lady, but because this tight-arse won't lash out and have a video-cam fitted to his phone I have to rely on my imagination."

"Hello Guthrie, I have heard a lot about you too, all of it good."

"Hang onto her Patrick, she's a lady of great perception. Now back to the matter at hand. We have been checking up on the police evidence surrounding your car. Two things stand out that were not followed up on. Firstly, it was picked up from the dealership hours before it was delivered to your office. The person picking it up told the dealer's receptionist that you had sent her to pick it up, she even paid for it. The person that delivered it to your office was wearing a jacket that identified her as an employee of the dealership. We showed your receptionist photographs of all of the dealer's female employees, she was not one of them. We then showed her a photo of the woman that we suspected was involved with the dealer uniform jacket photo-shopped onto it. Bingo! We then went back to the dealership with the same photo, this time without the jacket. Bingo again! It was Georgia."

"So she had the opportunity, and I guess her paranoid jealousy would provide the motive, what about means? How can we tie her into that?"

"We are working on that. We have looked at the forensic report on the blood in the boot of your car. The pathologist identified the sample as blood with some brain matter bone fragments and cerebral fluid, a couple of hairs, all belonging to Rosie but, and here is where it gets interesting, the pattern and location, and the fact that there was no evidence of drag marks, was inconsistent with it having come from a body being placed in the boot of your car. It was placed there to look as if the body was transported in your car boot. When the body is found it will confirm that death was caused by blunt force trauma, she was hit over the head with sufficient force to cause a depressed fracture of the skull and fatal brain damage."

"So where do we go from here?"

"We need to convince the police to re-open the case and get a warrant to examine Georgia's car. This could prove difficult." Guthrie sounded concerned.

"You don't think that they'll go for it?"

"No, I think that they'll have no alternative. But she has since sold her SUV, and tracking its new owner could prove difficult."

"The police can do that, can't they?"

"Yes. Now, to more immediate matters, when am I going to meet this Rachel person?"

"Soon, I promise. There are a few obstacles that I need to overcome first."

"The kids, huh?"

"Yeah, I have some groundwork to do before she meets them."

"It sounds serious, is it?"

"It's getting to be, let's leave it at that."

"Okay. I can't keep chatting to you, I have work to do." He hung up. 'So do I'. I thought.

"I think that we've done about as much as we can here today. Can I drive you home?" I asked Rachel.

"Yes, I'd appreciate that."

We packed up and Rachel and I left. We had only gone a couple of hundred metres when a familiar car pulled onto the road four cars behind us. "My friend has arrived."

"What are you going to do about it?"

I handed her my mobile phone. "Guthrie is on speed-dial 4, call him and get him to arrange for police interception of that vehicle. Tell him that I will drive around in circles for ten minutes or however long it will take for them to set up near Waverley Police Station. I will drive into the car park and when she sees what I have done she will probably leg it. They can stop her and charge her with stalking. She's driving a red Hyundai i30, I can't read the rego number, but they'll know which one it is. Guthrie knows the make and model of my car and the rego number, so when they see it pull into the car park, they'll recognise her."

She relayed the details while I did a couple of figure '8's and returned to the main road. The phone rang, it was Guthrie. "It took some convincing, but they are ready." I headed for the Police Station. 




Problems Shared



The phone rang again. "Let it ring out and go to voice mail." I told Rachel.

Voice mail was on speaker. "What the fuck are you playing at, you bastard. If you think that driving around in circles is going to shake me off, you've got another think coming. And you can tell your bitch that I'll rip her tits off when I catch her." 

"That will make interesting listening to when I replay it for the police." I pulled into the car park and the fun began. 

The policeman that stepped into her path with his hand up suffered severe leg injuries as he tried to jump out of her path. His partner called in 'Officer Down' as he gunned the car he was in and took off after her. The chase was about to be called off because it was getting too dangerous, when she lost control and slammed into a parked car. Airbags and seat belts saved her life but she was pretty badly banged up. She was taken to hospital where she remained under police guard.

Guthrie arrived at the Police Station just as I was replaying the voice message from my phone. He was armed with a thick folder which he placed on the desk. "This is the result of our investigation into the death of Rosie O'Laughlin. There is enough in that to convict Georgia, even without a body."

"We'll look into it. The very least we can charge her with, along with a great swathe of traffic offences such as dangerous driving causing bodily harm, is threatening life, and stalking."

Guthrie looked at Rachel. "You must be the fabulous Rachel that I have heard so much about. I'm deeply honoured to know you."

"Down boy, she's spoken for."

"I am, aren't I?" Rachel looked pleased.

"Yes. I do believe that you are." She hugged me.

"You have nothing to worry about, I'm not interested, too sickeningly sweet for me."

"We'd better go, I'll drop you off and pick up the kids. I'll call you tonight. Are you doing anything tomorrow?"

"I was, but I like the sound of this, so I'm not any more. What did you have in mind?"

"I think a trip to the Zoo or something like that, with the kids."

"Sounds great, we'll discuss it later." She kissed me, I kissed her, who cares, we kissed each other.

With some creative driving, and some envelope stretching, I managed, just, to reach the school in time to pick up the kids. They clambered into the car and I headed for Mum and Dad's for dinner. It was the usual jumble of conversations going back and forth across the table, a mixture of what the kids did at school, to Mum's description of the new shrubs that she had planted in her garden to replace a couple that were past their prime and getting straggly. 

After dinner we sat in the lounge room, we adults were listening to the News on ABC TV, the kids probably half listening to it. The sports segment had just finished and the weather was about to begin when a banner scrolled across the screen announcing some breaking news. "Police have revealed details of a high speed car chase through Sydney's Eastern suburbs that ended when the car, driven by a woman crashed. In a statement released soon after, the Police have announced that the driver will be charged, along with a series of traffic related offences, with the murder, a year ago, of Sydney woman Rosie O'Laughlin. No further details are available at this time. And now, to the weather."

"That was Mummy she was talking about." Rhianna said.

"Yes sweetie that was Mummy. The Police have arrested this woman over Mummy's death."

"What do you know about this?" Dad asked.

"Guthrie and I have been doing some investigating. We provided the evidence that led to the arrest. I had some help from a woman that I have met a few days ago, and I find myself attracted to her. I want the kids to meet her tomorrow." I told Mum and Dad.

"You are to bring her to dinner tomorrow night." It was an order.

"Okay, I'll see what I can organise. Hey kids, how would you like to go to the Zoo tomorrow?"

"Yay!" Rhianna shouted as she threw herself onto my lap and hugged me.

"That'd be okay." Ryan said as if he wasn't sure of this.

"There is one thing. You see, Daddy has been working with this very nice lady, and I've told her all about my great kids, and she wants to meet you. So I have asked her to join us."

"She won't be the same as Mummy." Rhianna said.

"No she won't. But I like her, and you will too, once you get to know her." They didn't sound so sure that they would.

I took them home, they were quiet until we got home and they were going to bed.

"I'll try to like her Daddy." Rhianna said as I tucked her in and kissed her good-night.

"Is she really nice?" Ryan asked as I said good-night to him.

"Yes son, she is really, really nice."

"Do you love her?"

"I do believe that I do. I want you to love her as well."

"Is she going to be our new Mummy?"

"We'll see, I'm not making any decisions just yet."

It turned out to be the best day that I have had for a long time, and it started as soon as Rachel was introduced to the kids. "Kids, this is the lovely lady I was telling you about, Rachel, this is Rhianna, and Ryan."

"Rhianna and Ryan, and now Rachel. Three names beginning with 'R'. I think your father's name should begin with 'R' as well. What shall we call him, Robert? Nah too stuffy, Roger? Oooh no."

"What about Raymond?" Rhianna asked.

"Yuk, Ryan said. "I think, Randall, he looks like a Randall."

"No he doesn't. Rory, that's a good one."

"How can you think that Rory's a good name?"

It went on and on, and Rachel threw the odd name into the mix, only to be howled down. What was happening was that the three of them were having the time of their lives at my expense, and in the process, the kids were getting to open up to her, and like her. Every now and then during the day, one of them would come up with some outrageous name beginning with 'R', most of them I'd never heard of and probably didn't even exist, but it kept them amused.

It was a long day that passed quickly. Rachel took tons of photos on her iPhone, including a bunch of selfies. We had a disgusting lunch of hamburgers and ice creams, something that the kids hardly ever have, but they persuaded Rachel that she should pressure me to get them.

Mum had dinner waiting for us when we got back. She looked at me, the question unspoken. "It's fine, better than fine, the kids love her."

"That's a relief for you."

The kids struggled through dinner, barely able to stay awake. There were two single beds in one of the spare rooms, and they went to bed earlier than usual. "You two will stay the night, won't you?"

"Yes, but I'll have to sleep on the couch, there's only one bed in the second bedroom."

"Have you ever noticed that my son is sometimes slow on the uptake?" Mum asked Rachel. That settled it, this was going to be my first night with Rachel, my first night in bed with a woman since Rosie. 

"What do you do Rachel?" Dad asked her.

"I'm at Uni, doing my PhD in Demographics. I hope to get a job in the Bureau of Stats."

"She's heavily involved in a social media campaign to name and shame preditary Professors, that's how we met. I'm afraid that it was sort of my idea."

"Can we see what you're doing?" Dad asked. He led her to his office and sat her down at his computer. She cranked up the Internet and type in the name of the site. 

"This is the Web-page, it has links to Facebook, Twitter, and several other social media sites. It has gone viral, and the Professor with the most complaints against him is this guy." She was scrolling down the seemingly endless list to find his name, when Rhianna came into the room. "Daddy, I can't get to sleep." Rachel had stopped at the page that she was looking for. "What's Grand-dad doing on your computer?" 

"He's just someone that I know from University. Would you like me to tuck you in?"

"Yes, would you?" They trotted off and Rachel came back a couple of minutes later.

"What was all that drama about?"

"This has come as a shock to me. Rachel had never mentioned the offending Professor's name. She wasn't to know that the Professor is Rosie's father."

"So what's going to happen?"

"We'll just have to let this run its course, we can't stop it now. While I should have some sympathy for him, what he has done negates any sympathy I feel. Let the cards fall where they may."

I slept with Rachel. I didn't make love to her, yet, that came later, on Sunday night, in my own bed, with the full knowledge of Rhianna and Ryan that she was to be their new Mummy.

Monday brought drama from a new front. My phone rang just before lunch. It was Rosie's mother. "Patrick, it's Phyllis, I need to speak to you, someone, and I don't know who, you were the first person I could think of, I know that I'm not making any sense right now, but I can't make any sense of what has just happened."

"Slow down and start from the beginning. What has happened?"

"It's Fred, he has been suspended from his job. He was called into the Vice-Chancellor's office this morning and, I can't believe this, but he has been accused of having sex with students in exchange for giving them higher grades. There must be some mistake, surely."

"How did this come about? Did a girl complain to the VC?"

"He tells me that it is a smear campaign being waged by female students on social media. The University has suspended him while they carry out a thorough investigation of this matter. The first thing that they will have to do is to find out who started this."

"Do you have any reason to think that he could not be innocent?"

"Patrick, don't even suggest that, it's too horrible to think about. What can I do?"

"There's not a lot that either of us can do until this matter is resolved."

"I think that I already knew that, but I feel so helpless, like I'm letting him down somehow."

"Keep your chin up, I'm sure that everything will turn out okay." That depends on what you consider to be okay and whose side you're on. I thought to myself as I called Rachel's number. It rang for some time, and I thought that it was going to go to voice mail, when she answered. "Sorry darling, can't speak right now, the shit has hit the fan big time. I'll call you later."

I immediately sent her a text message, 'I know what has happened, Rosie's mum rang, she's panicking, he's told her that he's innocent and she believes him. Hang in there. XXX P'.

It was over an hour later when she rang. "Hi Darling." I suppose that I should have expected her to call me that, the ice had been broken when I rang her before. "Sorry I couldn't speak to you earlier, but I was in with the Vice-Chancellor, he's panicking believe me, and with good reason. One of the TV channels has picked up on the social media campaign and decided that it was sensational enough to boost their flagging ratings. They confronted the Vice-Chancellor with the allegations and demanded a response. Talk about getting caught on the hop. He was speechless and that made it worse for the University, the vision of it being run by an inarticulate person who didn't know what was going on under his nose."

"How did you get involved in this? Why were you there in his office?"

"Ah, now that's the thing, I had been asked to investigate the extent of this when I complained to my father about it."

"Your father, how is he involved?"

"He is the Vice-Chancellor of one of the other Universities. When I told him about my experiences it got him thinking, does his University have a similar problem. I had been thinking about how I could find out when I bumped into you and you came up with the idea of using social media."

"Wait a minute. If your father is the VC of a University, why is it that your name didn't ring alarm bells with any of the faculty of yours?"

"My parents decided that any University qualifications that I get will be as a result of my efforts alone, and are in no way influenced by my being the daughter of a highly respected academic. I enrolled using my mother's maiden name."

"Okay, how does his Uni compare with yours?"

"Oh, there have been examples of academics trading sexual favours for grades, but the staff to incident ratio is much lower and they have been investigated. If the media approaches Dad, he has the information ready at hand."

"I think that a family conference is necessary. Not Rosie's family initially, but between my family and yours. We need to see if there is a solution to this problem that will make the smallest waves in academic circles."

"I'm going over to see Dad this afternoon, would you like to come, we can kill two birds with one stone, solve the world's problems and I can introduce him to the man of my dreams." 

Doctor Wallace Blackstone was everything that I imagined a respected academic would be. He was tall, clean shaven with an impressive head of dark hair that was showing a smear of distinguished grey at the temples. His handshake was firm without being aggressive, and his smile was reassuring, for me at least. "I am pleased to meet you. Rachel has been regaling her mother and me with paeans describing the love of her life. I must admit to my initial scepticism, after all this has been somewhat sudden, this romance. And when she told us something of your history, along with the fact that you have two children that she claims great affection for, we were even more sceptical. And then there are the events of last evening, and that was almost too much for us. But she assures us that you are completely innocent of any charges that were laid against you, and could prove it. We felt that we should at least meet you and give you the once over. Let me warn you, intimidating as this meeting might appear to you, it is nothing compared to the one that you'll have with her mother."

"I look forward to that." I said with all the confidence I could muster. "Now what are we to do about the drama that we have in front of us? How can we resolve this and minimise the fallout for, not only this Uni, but it would seem, most of the other Uni's in Australia."

"What we have decided with those few involved here is to inform them that their contracts will not be renewed when they fall due and those that have tenure will be suspended on pay for the remainder of that tenure. That will cost us a pretty penny, but it will be a drop in the ocean compared to the compensation that we will have to offer those affected."

"I would have thought that some, at least, of those involved will forego claims for compensation rather than reveal that they had 'bought' their degrees with sexual favours. Not something to be proud of I would have thought."

"That possibility has crossed my mind, but we have to make the offer, otherwise we will be in deep shit." 

The use of the word surprised me. "Surely, most of those girls involved, were not minors, or even under the age of consent, when these incidents occurred?" 

"That may be so," He said, "but they would still be considered as vulnerable due to the enormity of the decision that they were forced to make. Rachel brought this to my attention when he began to mark down her assignments. We arranged for them to be assessed by our academics at this University. She was right, they were all consistently graded much higher than his grades. I had already spoken to James Strickland, that's the VC of her University, so it didn't come as any great surprise when this media campaign singled him out."

"What do you think that they will do to him?" I asked.

"He has already been suspended while the evidence is being gathered. It is highly likely that his tenure will be cancelled."

"There is something of a complication here." I said. Rachel knew what I was about to say. "You see, the Professor in question just happens to be my father, or I suppose that it's ex-father-in-law, and there will be some family disruption because of this. I do not want to see Rosie's mother hurt in this, but I don't know how it can be avoided."

"I suppose that we can get an injunction preventing the release of his name for the reason that it will tend to identify any of his victims that are under age. That will keep a lid on it for a while, but not forever. I'll speak with James and get him on it." 

"Thank you for that. I would love to stay and chat with you, but I'm extremely busy right now, and I should get back to it."

"I'm coming with you." Rachel said, collecting her things.

"You two will come for dinner this evening, won't you?"

"Yes, thank you." I answered for the both of us. Rachel's lips on my cheek told me that she was happy about that. The look on her father's face told me that he would have to come to terms with her leaving the nest in the not too distant future.

Dinner with her parents was a most civilised affair. I went alone, having farmed the kids off with Mum and Dad. "You don't think that you're moving too fast, do you?" Mum asked when I called her.

"Meeting the parents is only a part of this, Rachel's father is involved in this thing with Rosie's Dad." I explained the involvement to her and she understood. "You be on your best behaviour, and don't lick your knife, or anything disgusting like that." She hung up mid-protest. I picked Rachel up from her apartment, she looked amazing, sort of casual chic, if you know what I mean, up-market casual clothes, not department store purchases, I felt positively down-market. "You scrub up well." She told me after she kissed me.

"I feel out of place already. Are you sure that this is a good thing, I feel that I need to go home and change into something better."

"Don't worry about it. Dad will be dressed like a slob as usual, he tells me that a week of dressing up like a pox doctor's clerk, whatever that is, is enough."

We pulled up in the drive of this mansion, and I felt even more out of place. That was until the front door opened and Doctor Blackstone emerged through the front door in a track suit and sneakers. I almost expected a tennis racquet in his hand. "Hi you two, good to see you, come in and meet the good lady wife."

Marjorie Blackstone was the antithesis of her husband. Like Rachel she was sporting casual chic, but in a haute couture way. Appearances can be deceiving. If I had expected her to act as she dressed, I couldn't have been more wrong. Both of them had accepted that I was the man who was destined to take their only child from them. The conversation was casual and did not touch on the sordid events of the day. I discovered that Marjorie was interested in many things, and this did not include fashion or gossip. She made very intelligent comments on such esoteric topics as the climate change debate, the problems of global terrorism and how it was impacting negatively on the lives of all countries, and the refugee problems that it has caused. She did not trot out the usual simplistic solutions to that problem, but did comment that the first course should be to solve the problems forcing so many people to flee their own country.

Doctor (call me Wal) Blackstone asked me if I was interested in cricket. "Yes, I played through high school and Uni, I even played grade crick for University for a couple of years, but had neither the time nor the motivation to take it further."

"Bowler or batsman?" He asked.

"I was a bowler who could bat. I was slightly faster than a fast medium, without reaching the speeds of the current test bowlers like Mitchell Johnston or Mitchell Starc."

"Would you like to go to the next test at the SCG (Sydney Cricket Ground)? If you would, I'll arrange a seat for you in the Members (stand)."

"That would be great, thank you."

"You aren't going to give him mine are you?" Rachel said. 

"No, of course not. But I know of a few men who don't use their tickets, so I'll borrow one." This was interesting, Rachel was a girl who liked cricket enough to sit through a five day test match.