First and Only (8 page)

‘
And the eight can’t go
there...
’ he almost sniggered.

And the bonus ball is…

Psimon sipped his coffee and
smiled to himself as he waited for the tannoy to announce that the flight for
Orlando Florida was ready for boarding.

Chapter 10

Steve woke midway across the Atlantic. He woke with a
start in response to some kind of impact. Squinting through the disorientation
he focussed on his surroundings. They sat just behind the wing on the starboard
side of the Virgin Atlantic 747. Psimon was sleeping soundly in the window seat
beside him. The aisle seat was empty.

Steve was shifting round in his
seat when the plane suddenly kicked up beneath him before dropping away just as
suddenly. An overhead locker made a hollow clunking sound and Steve could see a
small rucksack lying nearby in the aisle. He looked round as a flight attendant
drew level with his seat. She retrieved the rucksack and reached up to stow it
back in the locker. She tucked in the straps and gave the door a healthy slam
to make sure it did not pop open a second time.

‘Where are we?’ asked Steve.

‘We’ve a few hours to go yet,’
replied the attendant. ‘Can I get you anything?’

Steve shook his head. ‘I’m fine,
thanks.’

‘Don’t worry,’ said the attendant
comfortingly. ‘We’ll be through this in a minute.’

Steve did his best to look
reassured. ‘
You should try a low altitude insertion through the boiling
thermals of the Colombian jungle,
’ he thought.

The attendant gave him a parting
smile and returned to her duties.

Steve sat up in his seat and
straightened the blanket over his legs. The plane gave another lurch and the
fold-down tray on the seat in front dropped open coming to rest against his
shins. He pushed it back into place and settled back in his seat but a moment
later the tray was rubbing against his legs once more. With an irritated sigh
Steve reached forward and slammed the tray back up with more force than was
necessary and in his mind he saw his fist make contact with the door to his
living room, with a good deal more force than was necessary…

It was five-thirty in the morning
and Christine had just returned from the police station. Her brother had been
picked up earlier that morning for a breach of the peace outside a casino. The
police had called to say that, while he was not hurt, he was in a state of some
considerable distress, and would she come and collect him.

Christine had left, leaving Steve
in the house with Sally.

When, after a couple of hours,
Christine had still not returned Steve phoned her on her mobile.

‘Is everything all right?’ he
asked. ‘How’s Paul?’

‘Paul’s fine,’ Christine had
replied but Steve could hear the tears in her voice.

‘What’s the matter?’ he asked,
bracing himself in anticipation of bad news.

‘I’m heading home now,’ said
Christine. ‘I’ll see you in a few minutes.’

The very fact that Christine had
dodged the question told Steve more than he wanted to know.

‘Okay,’ he said, a cold, sick
feeling spreading through his stomach. ‘See you then.’

The next ten minutes felt like an
hour as Steve waited for Christine to return. Finally her car pulled onto the
drive and Steve went to meet her at the door. Christine was obviously upset but
instead of seeking comfort in Steve’s embrace she pushed past him into the
living room. Steve followed, the sense of foreboding growing ever stronger. His
wife stood in the middle of the room, her back to him, her hands held up to her
face.

‘Christine?’ said Steve reaching
out to her but before he could touch her Christine let out a sob.

‘It’s gone,’ she cried. ‘It’s all
gone.

‘What’s gone?’ asked Steve
warily.

‘The money, Steve… the money.
It’s all gone!’

Now Steve knew
exactly
what she was talking about. She was talking about the capitol they had raised
for the launch of their new business venture; the three hundred thousand pounds
that represented every last penny of their assets.

‘That’s not possible,’ said
Steve, unwilling to accept what she was telling him. ‘I spoke to the bank
manager only last week… it’s not possible.’

Christine rounded on him, the
bitterness etched on her tear-streaked face. ‘This is Paul we’re talking about.
Believe me it’s possible.’

Steve felt as if the ground had
been torn from under his feet. The room seemed to suddenly tilt around him.
‘But that’s all the money we have,’ protested Steve.

‘I know,’ said Christine.

‘That’s the money my father left
me…’

‘I know,’ said Christine in a low
moan.

‘That’s the house, Christine… we
borrowed money against the house.’

‘Steve!’ shouted Christine in
frustration. ‘I know!’

‘Sshh!’ said Steve in response to
the raised voice. ‘We’ll wake Sally.’

He pushed the living room door to
but it never stayed closed and even as he turned back to the room it swung open
several inches.

‘Oh God’ said Christine raising a
hand to her mouth and turning away.

‘Jesus,’ swore Steve softly as
the enormity of what she was telling him sank in.

They were four weeks away from
signing a deal that would see the bank matching their money; four weeks from
the start of production on the first of nearly two hundred orders, and each one
worth the best part of five thousand pounds. They were four weeks away from
ensuring the financial security of their family and proving that Steve could do
something worthwhile in life other than fighting for Her Majesty’s armed forces.

‘What are we going to do?’ said
Christine sinking into a chair.

‘But how?’ asked Steve still
wondering how Paul could have gone through three hundred grand in less than a
week.

‘Oh, you name it…’ said Christine
angrily.

Steve shook his head, the shock
giving way to anger.

‘I knew we shouldn’t have trusted
him.’

‘So this is my fault!’ challenged
Christine. ‘For talking you into it…’

‘No,’ said Steve somewhat taken
aback.

‘But if I hadn’t talked you into
it…’

‘That’s not it at all,’ protested
Steve.

‘But I did Steve. I did talk you
into it.’ Christine was back on her feet. ‘Oh, he’s fine for a night down the
pub. Great for a laugh… great with Sally…’

‘Christine, don’t,’ said Steve
taking a step towards her.

‘No!’ snapped Christine pulling
away from him. ‘You never trusted him, not really. If I hadn’t persuaded you
that he deserved a second chance… that the responsibility would do him good…’

‘You didn’t talk me into it,’
said Steve. ‘We made the decision together.’

He made another attempt to
comfort his wife but she just kept turning away from him. ‘I like Paul… I
always have. I knew the way he was… I just never believed he was capable of
something like this.

‘But maybe I did,’ cried
Christine and the guilt in her voice was more than Steve could bear.

‘Christine, please…’ he began but
she cut him off.

‘Steve, what are we going to do?’

Now it was Steve who turned away.
He could not believe that Christine was blaming herself after all that she had
done.

‘Enough…’ he said quietly. ‘Just
let me think.’

‘We have no money…’

Steve sighed wearily. As much as
he had always liked Paul, he hated him at this moment. He hated him for his
selfishness, for his weakness… he hated him for what he had done but most of
all he hated him for what this was doing to his family. He and Christine never
argued, not really, and he hated to see his confident, resourceful wife reduced
to self-doubt and despair. Steve raised his hands to massage the growing ache
in his temples, while behind him Christine paced back and forth sounding off
the miseries that lay ahead of them.

‘The mortgage is due next week
and we’re already three months behind…’

Steve could hear the blood
rushing in his ears. ‘
How could he do this?
’

‘Then there’s the loan for the
research costs…’

Steve’s heart was pounding in his
chest. ‘
He knows what this means to us… He knows what this will cost us.
’

Steve’s hands withdrew from his
throbbing temples; the joints of his knuckles cracking ominously as they
tightened into fists.

‘The car will have to go back… We
won’t be able to get Sally to school…

‘
How could he do this?
’

‘Steve, what are we going…?’

‘I don’t know!’ shouted Steve
and, lashing out, he punched the half-open door.

Even in the grip of angry
frustration Steve knew that something was wrong. His awareness had registered
two sounds, two impacts… His fist denting the solid wood of the door and then,
a fraction of a second later, a second impact. And there had been something
else… the tiny, choked off whimper of a little girl.

Steve stood there, frozen to the
spot, as Christine moved past him to open the door.

There, lying insensible on the
hall carpet, was Sally their five-year-old daughter. There was blood on her
face and her perfect little nose looked misshapen and nudged to one side.

‘Oh God!’ whispered Christine
kneeling down beside her daughter.

‘Oh Christ!’ breathed Steve as he
looked down on the two people who meant everything in life to him.

Sally stirred as Christine bent
to check on her. She tried to open her eyes but her left one would not open,
the previously unblemished flesh starting to redden and swell.

‘Lie still baby,’ said Christine
as Sally began to cry.

‘Steve,’ said Christine in a
voice of cold necessity. ‘Get me a damp cloth and the first aid kit from the
kitchen.

As a trained nurse Christine knew
what to do but Steve just stood there. Years of combat and training to deal
with crisis situations had not prepared him for this.

‘Steve, a cloth, please!’ said
Christine in that same harsh tone of control.

Steve started towards the
kitchen.

‘And phone for an ambulance,’
Christine called after him. ‘I want to get her checked out.’

Steve grabbed the first aid kit
from the kitchen cupboard and rinsed a clean cloth under the tap. ‘
Oh my God
,’
he thought.
‘I’ve put my daughter in an ambulance… my little girl… Oh my
God!
’

Steve’s vision was blurred with
tears as he made his way back to the hall. He handed Christine the first aid
kit and cloth then went back into the living room to call for an ambulance.
‘They’ll be here in a few minutes,’ he said in a hollow voice when he returned
to the hall.

Sally had stopped crying but she
still snivelled and moaned while Christine tried to keep her from getting up.

‘Is she okay?’ asked Steve. The
paralysis of shock was starting to leave him and he went to crouch down beside
Sally but Sally recoiled from him in confusion and fear and Steve backed away
in dismay. He had never had a reaction like that from his little girl before.
But until now he had never given her reason to fear him, never given her reason
to doubt his love.

‘Just leave her,’ said Christine,
her tone softening a little as she nodded Steve back towards the living room.

Feeling more lonely and worthless
than he ever had in his life Steve went and sat in his comfortable living room.
He listened to his wife’s gentle voice as she soothed and reassured their
daughter. He listened as the ambulance arrived and Christine briefed the
paramedics on Sally’s condition.

‘I think she’s okay,’ Steve heard
her say. ‘But she did lose consciousness and she’s complaining of a sore neck.
I didn’t want to move her…’

‘You did exactly the right
thing,’ one of the paramedics told her as he bent down to examine Sally. ‘Now,
what happened?’

Steve had passed through the
brutal psyche evaluation of the SAS selection process, where would-be recruits
are placed under severe psychological stress to simulate what they might
experience during interrogation by the enemy. Psyche week was notoriously
difficult to endure… this was worse.

Steve had watched the ambulance
drive away. He had waited until the police arrived with a social worker in
attendance to take a statement from Steve and assess whether remaining in the
family home represented a danger to Sally. He had waited until Christine phoned
to say that Sally was going to be okay. She had a broken nose and a badly
bruised face but there was no serious damage done and her nose would soon be
just as perfect as it always had been.

‘Kids mend remarkably well,’
Christine had said.

‘
Kids shouldn’t have to
fucking mend!
’ Steve had rebuked himself.

‘When can you bring her home?’ he
had asked.

‘We’re going to stay at mum’s
tonight,’ said Christine tentatively. ‘Sally doesn’t want to go home just now.’

‘
Sally doesn’t want to come
home just now.
’

The words had echoed in Steve’s
mind as he felt himself shrinking away to nothing. ‘Listen,’ he said at last.
‘I’ll go up to the cottage for a few days. You come home when you’re ready.
Give me a call when Sally is ready to see me.’

‘Okay,’ Christine had said.

Not, ‘
Okay darling’
. Not,
‘
Okay, I love you. See you soon’
… just, ‘Okay’.

Steve had never felt so
miserable, so hopeless, so guilty in his life. He had packed a bag, grabbed the
keys to the cottage and stalked out the front door walking straight into the
florist who was delivering a big bunch of flowers and a large, incredibly cute,
Nemo cuddly toy.

‘Delivery for Brennus,’ said the
florist brightly but one look at Steve’s stony expression and the smile faded
from her face.