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Authors: Malcolm Havard

Touched

BOOK: Touched
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TOUCHED

First Edition

March 2013

 

Published in Great Britain by:

 

Oakbrook Press,

235
Nantwich Road

Crewe, Cheshire

CW2 6NU

 

 

Copyright © Malcolm
Havard and Oakbrook Press

 

Cover Copyright ©  Malcolm Havard

 

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

 

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior permission of the author or publishers, nor otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

 

Paperback ISBN-13:  978-1481239516

 

This work is a work of fiction. All the characters within it are fictitious and are not meant to represent any real individuals, either living or dead. Any such resemblance is purely coincidental.

 

This edition printed by CreateSpace Inc, USA

Touched is
dedicated to a silent angel

Prologue

 

Today

 

'There you go, door-to-door service,’ said William stopping the car right outside the entrance.

‘Cheers mate, appreciate it,’ Dan said, knowing that an awkward moment was imminent.

Sure enough William said; 'So do I get an invite?’

Dan paused, his hand on the door handle. He had been half expecting, half dreading this. ‘Er…well…my girlfriend is a bit…funny about visitors,’ he said feeling guilty again even though he knew there was nothing he could do about it.

‘Hey, it’s OK,’ William’s voice was remarkably gentle. ‘She was attacked wasn’t she? I had heard. Sorry mate, must be hard.’

Dan wasn’t surprised that William knew. He hadn’t told anyone at work but the grapevine always worked overtime. The circles he worked and socialised in were not that large.

‘Yes, she was,’ said Dan getting out, praying that William wouldn’t push the point, wouldn't ask more. For all his wide boy agent’s bluster and his showing off, he suspected that William was a surprisingly sensitive soul, in fact he was counting on it.

‘No worries, mate. Have a good night. Give her my regards. Need a lift tomorrow?’

‘No it’s OK. There’s a tram stop just across the street. I'll see you tomorrow. Thanks for the lift.’

‘No probs, Danny boy. Night mate.’

Dan shut the car door and waited whilst William performed a typically flamboyant 3-point turn and screeched off into the night, giving a final cheery wave out of his window. Only then did he press his proximity card to the security panel and let himself into the lobby. He then made certain it latched and locked behind him, knowing that if he didn’t she was bound to ask him; he was not a good enough liar to convince her that they were secure. He checked their post box and extracted the usual selection of junk mail, fast food flyers and bills, looked at them briefly and headed to the lift.

 

The doors opened immediately when he pressed the call button. On the 7th floor he got out, turned right and walked along the plush, carpeted corridor, more like a hotel than an apartment block, until he stood outside number 714. He paused briefly, checking that there was no one else around. She got so nervous if she heard voices. It upset her. The coast was clear so he put his key in the lock, turned the Yale, pushed the door open and stepped inside.

It was warm. A candle was lit on the dining table that was set for one. A single glass stood next to a bottle of red wine.

Dan smiled.

‘Sorry. I couldn’t open it.’

The voice next to him made him jump.

‘Sorry,’ she said again. She was there, right there next to him, appearing wraith-like out of the darkness, a cheeky half-smile on her face, her eyes sparkling in the flickering candlelight, the
colour made more striking by the paleness of her skin.

‘That’s OK,’ said Dan moving to kiss her but she wriggled away from him.

‘Easy tiger. Your dinner’s in the oven,’ she said sitting down on the settee. She kicked her off shoes and tucked her legs underneath her. ‘Put Corrie on for me would you?’

Dan up picked the remote from the coffee table and pressed number three. As the set flicked into life and as he put it back down again he caught her looking at him; her gaze was soft, gentle, amused, loving. As usual he wanted to touch her, to take her in his arms, to brush away the strands of hair that always rebelliously wandered across her cheeks, to kiss her passionately.

But he didn't.

For now he just smiled back and headed off into the kitchen.

He found the oven gloves, put them on and leant down to open the oven door. As he did his eye was drawn to the temperature setting. It was all the way round to full. She seemed to know the moment that he saw it.

‘Um,’ she said, ‘I had a spot of bother with the dial thingy. It might be a bit overdone.’

The pot was so hot it was ticking. He could hardly bear to hold it even through the oven gloves.  He had to quickly put it down to save his hands but when he did he was concerned that the temperature difference would crack the cool marble worktop. The lid was almost welded on, he had to lever it off with a knife, then burnt his fingers trying to stop it flicking onto the floor. 

‘It’s perfect,’ he called, looking at the dry, blackened wreckage within. And, oddly enough, he meant it.

Chapter One

 

One year ago

 

‘But Tess! Can you believe that she’d do that? I’ve had enough. I’m just going to elope, I really am.’

Tess rolled her eyes and had to suppress a sigh. Any sign that she was not taking her sister seriously would only lead to a major row. She checked her watch; the call was in its 54
th
minute.

‘She’s just…excited sis. First daughter getting married and all that.’

‘Well I wouldn’t be the first if you had…’ Annie broke off mid-sentence. Tess knew why, she had spoken without thinking, without the normal care that her family treated the subject; the kid-glove treatment that so irritated her that she found it hard to control herself, even though she was the calm one in the family. But now it had come back to bite her. Keep it light, she told herself, don’t rise to the bait.

‘So it’s my fault is it? Thanks!’

She winced, glad her sister couldn't see her; that hadn’t come out at all the way she intended. It was meant as a joke but it sounded like a real accusation. She tried to think of something to say to ease the situation but Annie got there first.

‘Sorry Tess, you know I didn’t mean that. I’m just super stressed.’

‘It’s alright, Annie, I know. She was like it with me so I’ve been there, bought the t-shirt. Look, what if I have a quiet word with mum, ask her to tone it down a bit?’

‘You’ll be super diplomatic?’

‘Super, super.’

‘And this conversation…’

‘…never happened. Of course not. Though of course…’

‘…she’ll know right away it has!’

‘Yup!’ Tess looked at her watch. ‘Can I go and watch my soaps now?’

‘If you must. But sis, soaps? What are you doing staying in watching soaps? You’re young free and single. I wanted a laugh at your love life to cheer me up!’

‘Hah! Love life? What’s that?’

‘Oh come on Tess there must be someone on the horizon? You’re young, bright and pretty, you should be out having fun. Come on, who you seeing?’

‘No one.’

‘No one? No
goss at all? C’mon sis, you’re really letting the side down here. There’s got to be some hot lawyer in your chambers who’s half decent?’

‘I’m sure there is but I just don’t look to be honest. I’m just having a bit of time on my own. I don’t need anyone at the moment.’ As she spoke she flicked the TV remote hoping that her sister would take the hint if she heard the familiar theme, but felt a bit guilty when it seemed to work.

‘Ok then Tess, I’ll leave you to Corrie you boring thing. Please, please, PLEASE talk to mum and get her to organise my wedding a little bit less…please?’

Tess chuckled. ‘Will do! Love you. Speak tomorrow?’

‘Sure thing. Love you too. Bye!’

Annie hung up and Tess settled down on the settee. She poured herself a glass of wine, being careful to avoid getting any of the deep red droplets on either the cream carpet or the even creamer suite, ruing again her
colour choice given her natural clumsiness. Safely negotiating this task she carefully put the bottle down and took a sip. Not bad. She was trying hard to get out of the thrift habit, the three for £10 syndrome that had been with her since student days. She had to consciously tell herself to look at the label, to go for quality not price. She was an associate now, she could afford it. It still made her feel guilty though and always made sure the bottle was on offer even if she paid more for it now. She took a sip; yeah it was a good choice. Rich, round, a hint of blackberry, a touch of oak. Lovely.

She found herself staring into the glass, watching the light reflect off the facets of the cut crystal, the infinite shades of red within the microcosm of the tulip. Her mind went back to what her sister had said. She was right, she
should
be out having fun, seeing a bit of life, spending some of her new improved salary on herself. But still she couldn’t, not yet.

It was still too soon.

Tess brought herself back to the present. She realised she hadn’t watched any of her soap. She checked her watch. Ten minutes! Annoyed with herself she tried to concentrate, to pick up the thread.

The commercial break came all too soon. And with the adverts came a feeling she didn’t at all like, a feeling of unease, a prickly tingle that seemed to cover her whole back. Her skin seemed to be shrinking away from her clothes. She tried to ignore it, she told herself that she was just being silly. She gave herself a good talking to in her head. She was safely locked inside her flat, up on the 7
th
floor. She absolutely would not give into her instincts and go and look around. Monsters under the bed indeed! She was a grown women for God's sake.

She took another sip of wine and adjusted her position on the sofa, kidding herself that she was just getting comfortable but now, out of the corner of her eye, she could now see the door into the hall, which was open. The hall was dark, the only lights on in the flat were the uplighter by the window and what the TV gave off, so she could not see far into the gloom. What she could see though was the spot of light from the spyhole showing the well-lit corridor outside her front door. Everything else was just dark shapes.

Harmless dark shapes, Tess, she told herself silently, harmless.

‘Pull yourself together,’ she muttered out loud and turned to the TV, deliberately turning her back on the open door, and the hall, and its gloomy corners.

The tickling, prickly feeling was back. She couldn’t get rid of it, couldn’t get the thoughts out of her head. Every sense told her to turn back and look, look. Look. Look behind you! She fought it, tried to rationalise. To be a grown up but then a thought nag, nag, nagged at her.

The spyhole.

Could she see the light of the spyhole when she first looked? Or had it appeared as her eyes adjusted to the gloom?  If it had appeared then it meant something was in the way. No, no, no, she was just being stupid, letting her imagination run away with her.

She forced herself to watch the TV.

But the urge to turn around was so strong. And so was the fear, the fear of seeing something dark, something malevolent, something or someone that shouldn't be there. She found herself hardly able to breathe and this made her very angry with herself.

‘Stupid cow,’ she muttered getting to her feet, annoyed that she was giving in to what had to be her childish fears.

BOOK: Touched
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