____________________________
| |
/)| KRISTEN'S BOOKSHELF |(\
/ )| DIRECTORIES |( \
__( (|____________________________|) )__
((( \ \ > /_) ( \ < / / )))
(\\\ \ \_/ / \ \_/ / ///)
\ / \ /
\ _/ \_ /
/ / \ \
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o
o o
o The Bookshelf Directories offer a very wide variety o
o of stories. They have been submitted by people from o
o all over the world. Also from alt.sex.stories (News o
o groups). There is no particular order other than o
o offering them to you in alphabetical directories. o
o o
o All works are copyrighted to the author and may not o
o be used for profit without obtaining the author's o
o permission in advance. o
o o
o Lest we forget!!! This story was produced as adult o
o entertainment and should not be read by minors. o
o o
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o
Crying Ain't the Answer Julie
by KiwiCreator (no address provided)
***
Julie posted her first story to an adult website which
didn't pay for submissions or charge people to read them.
Ten days later her contribution was posted as 'Story of
the Week'. Next morning Julie found three downloaded
emails on her computer from anonymous readers praising
her writing and one from a rival website inviting her
to become a contributor and possibly earning herself
money.(MFbg, extreme-ped)
***
CHAPTER 1
The limo turned out of the cemetery and Julie Giles
dabbed her eyes, leaving behind her husband Ted buried
the proverbial 'six feet under.' Actually he'd been
cremated and the ashes placed in a wall mini-vault.
"Crying ain't the answer, Julie," she whispered
ungrammatically, and her dad patted her shoulder and
told her that was the way to go, chin up.
Her mom was seated behind them with Paula (6) and Tim
(5) who chatted about the times they'd had with their
daddy. Grandma Mary used pauses in their discussion to
say those times were past memories now because their
dear daddy was in heaven.
Although not sure of Ted's destination, Julie thought he
deserved a place 'upstairs'.
Everyone went to their rooms for 'a rest' as decreed by
mother/grandmother Mary.
A little later, Julie left the house quietly wearing
white shorts, white t-shirt and sneakers and no socks,
and no other garment for that matter. She began walking
down the sidewalk and was immediately bailed up by a
scary although attractive dog.
"Rufus heel!" commanded the nice Mister Somebody Julie
knew by sight, which often went by exercising his high-
stepping white dog.
"My apologies ma'am, he's not usually like that. I think
he was as surprised as you to meet so suddenly."
"Does he have a name?"
"Rufus ma'am.
"Oh yes, I heard you say that. I've just had a death in
the family so am not quite myself."
"My condolences," he said simply, receiving a nod in
reply.
Julie was aware she was being inspected discreetly and
not be the dog! By now Mr Somebody would be aware she
was braless and probably was thinking what else was
missing. She turned her pinking face to him, smiling her
best.
"I'm off to walk sad thoughts away. It was nice meeting
you and you too Rufus."
Rufus wagged a response while his master looked
thoughtful.
"You may accompany us if that would be helpful."
"It's best I contemplate alone I think; perhaps some
other time."
"Yes of course. Rufus and Dillon specialize in escorting
pretty ladies on walks to add dimension to their lives.
Bye."
What a peculiar meeting thought Julie, dawdling on her
way. First she almost became dog meat for a breed of dog
that looked expensive and probably had a pedigree as
long as his tail. Then the owner, name unknown until the
mention of Dillon, managed to eye her over, referred to
her obliquely as a pretty and romanticized about adding
dimension to the lives of pretty ladies.
What about the unattractive women who really need
someone like him, living their lonely lives with little
chance of a hand other than theirs stroking their cheek
and perhaps even a breast?
Momentarily she thought darkly that he walked that dog
of his to prowl on women. He should be locked up and the
mutt impounded!
Julie crossed over before the corner and smiled wanly,
now thinking Dillon could walk with her any time he
wished and she wouldn't scream blue murder if he stroked
her breasts.
She knew that would be considered a disgusting thought
by people knowing she'd just buried her husband, but
life must go on. Besides, that kind of mixed thinking
was why she was walking; she needed to get herself
sorted.
Two weeks later with a gin bottle and a jug of water in
front of her, Julie sat alone wondering what the answer
was. Her mother, sometimes with her father, spent every
day alongside her or at least hovered nearby.
Suicide, also sometimes known as accidental death, was
not an answer; that was just not her. Finding a new
father for the children had to be a priority but her
prospects were not promising. Perhaps sitting and
drinking gin was the answer?
"Yeah!" she said happily and loudly, holding a glass up
high and shouting, "How are you doing up there Ted?"
Ten minutes later she was sprawled across the table
sobbing.
Dammit she needed a pee. Things like that always spoiled
a good howl; interruptions to a woman's good cry should
be banned.
Yellow, red and white flashes appeared in front of her
eyes and Julie fell to her knees, wetting her panties on
the way down.
"I'm legless," she wailed, and then said extravagantly,
"Getting drunk ain't the answer Julie."
Collecting her thoughts, grinning stupidly, she yawned
and thought she hadn't bashed a bottle like this in
years. Then she remembered she had two little dependants
upstairs asleep, trusting her, believing that she was
there for them.
"For goodness sake Julie, get your ass into gear and do
something."
Her phone was on the table.
Triumphantly, Julie hauled herself up the table leg and
stood swaying.
"Oh dear, I'm going to pass out," she muttered, her ears
buzzing, her head spinning and some of those gins
attempting to break out on an unplanned return trip
through her mouth.
She lethargically remembered a bygone voice, her
mother's voice, saying 'You've always been such a
responsible girl Julie'.
Julie lunged for the phone and managed to hit the speed
dial 444. The call was answered.
"Mom help!' she groaned and vomiting, slumped to the
wooden deck.
"Julie? Is that you Julie? Darling, please talk to me!"
Mary received no reply. The phone in unconscious Julie's
hand lay between the hardwood deck and under Julie's
left hipbone.
Sunlight streaming through the bedroom window encouraged
Julie to emerge from sleep. She smiled at partial memory
of having that awful dream. She hesitated, wondering had
it been a dream and looked down to her chest and in
horror found she was dressed in a pair of Ted's pyjamas!
What on earth!
She never wore clothing to bed; she liked the feeling of
being free.
Oh crap, her memory of yesterday afternoon filtered
back. She'd drunk herself legless on gin. Her mom must
have come and put her to bed and unable to find a
nightdress had unpacked boxes ready to go to the used
clothes clearance warehouse to locate a pair of Ted's
pyjamas.
Julie was amazed that her stomach felt good and the head
felt clear, not a crack in it. Well she rather fancied
herself as a drinker and some of her friends would
sometimes say, "Julie can put it away."
Friends ha! Now that she was a widow they'd all fade
away like autumn leaves. They'd say hi on the street and
at the school but wouldn't say 'Bring the kids around
for a sleepover Julie and you attend our dinner party.
You must stay the night because you bounce back well and
will be bright company for the children while we
struggle to wake up'.
Her mother Mary came in with coffee and smiled,
displaying no sign of recrimination.
"Thanks mom, and especially thanks for last night; it
must have been dreadful for you."
"It wasn't too bad darling. James and I managed to get
you upstairs and into the shower. I removed your clothes
when they were washed clean and then managed to
frogmarch you to the bedroom. You father had found some
pyjamas, saying he couldn't find your nightdresses but
found lots of what he called naughty underwear. Where do
you keep your sleepwear?"
"Um what time is it mom?"
"Ten."
"Thanks again. I remember peeing myself. I'm sorry about
that."
"James and I are staying here with you until you
stabilize. And dear, we have locked the liquor away."
"That's a sensible thing to do mom. I was dangerous and
out of control last night."
"There you go; I told James you'd be sensible about
this. He thought you'd cry and scream for booze. You've
had a horrid time, but boozing or crying isn't the
answer, is it Julie?"
"No but what is mom?"
"First find peace and concentrate on focus and keeping
busy my dear. Your confidence will come back and then
you'll be off again. I honestly don't think you'll
suffer depression. With a little bit of devil in you
you're just not prone to that."
"Mom I'm not a girl, I'm newly widowed with two
children, remember?
"You're quite right Julie. Ted's violent death has made
me aware just how vulnerable we all are; we really just
hang on to life."
"His death just dulled my awareness of life mom. I'm
sure if it hadn't been for the children I would have a
cot case. There was no warning, none at all, just two
sad looking policemen facing me when I opened the door."
"That's right Julie. I have said to you had you been a
religious person those beliefs would have helped you
immensely in this period of great tragedy and
heartbreak."
"Perhaps so mom but I'm a fighter and no one gets this
little fucker down. Remember when I started saying that
F-word when I was fourteen?"
"Oh how I do remember those rambunctious years between
your ages of thirteen and mid-fifteen. You used to goad
me with that awful word. I always worried what would the
neighbours think; your father tried thrashing it out of
you but that only intensified your defiance."
"Mom, I've just realized something. Usually you refer to
dad as James but if he's said something or done
something you obviously disagree with and are telling me
about it, you label him 'your father'.
"Do I dear? How unremarkable. Stay in bed until
lunchtime. I'll call you fifteen minutes before I serve
it. Call me if you need me otherwise use your thinking
time."
Hmmm, thought Julie. That lovely comment from the former
schoolteacher, stripped of its sugar-coating, meant,
'Get on with your life girl; plan your next moves'.
Julie jumped out of bed and walked over to the desk,
feeling like a Yeti in her DEAD husband's pyjamas. Yes
he was dead.
She took off the gross pyjamas, folding them neatly,
knowing that ought to earn a tick from her mom.
Julie carried the laptop back to bed and went between
the sheets with the ridiculous thought of warning
herself to take care that she didn't jag a nipple in the
keyboard.
She knew that was vintage Julie, a sexy near-misfit of
her generation. Most of her contemporaries, in their
younger years at least, had regarded sex and body parts
with deep respect and definitely not something to be
laughed at or treated frivolously.
Julie, however, had thought differently and with
irrelevant disregard of the order of things downgraded
the wonder about the origin of the seed that came from a
male's penis when her friends were talking about it in
hushed tones, no giggling.
One time after a classroom biology lesson, the girls
continued chatting in awe about the process of
fertilization of the female's egg only to have Julie
claim that the ejection of male sperm was no more of a
wonder than passing gas, and that both should be
regarded with equal indifference.
That provoked nervous laughter and suspicion that Julie
was treating the subject frivolously, which all had been
urged not to do.
"She's talking like the Devil's daughter," claimed Anna
Childs, a Catholic.
Julie's friend Pam who lived next door to her had smiled
to counter Anna and said, "You're so funny Julie. You
should become a writer about sex so those who follow us
can learn about it earlier in life and in words they can
understand. You have sorted it for us whereas earlier we
were discussing it as if it were something holy."
*
Sixteen years later Pam, then recently married and
living with her husband in Paris, received a copy of
Julie's new book for young teenagers titled: This Is
About Sex! Tell Mum & Dad Not to Worry.
Parents bought 80,730 copies because book reviewers in
their vicinity described it along the lines of 'It's a
scream'; 'A handbook for every child' and 'Gee I found
things that I didn't know'. That was despite the
publication being panned from the pulpit, with clergy
scathing that the writer could be so light-hearted in
attempting to help educated teenagers about sex and
sexuality. Most slammed one particular quote,
'Ejaculating is a little like having a cough'.
The ability to write with a somewhat whacky slant on
life and people's concerns and convictions led Julie
into part-time writing and soon magazines were
publishing her short stories and articles. When she was
twenty, a women's magazine offered her a job as Teens
Editor, allowing Julie to escape from her mechanical and
boring job of on-screen proof reading for a company
producing community newspapers.
At nights and weekends she worked at writing children's
books and over time managed to have five accepted for
publication.
The break-through as an author with commercial potential
was initiated by the publisher's agent. First, he
offered to represent Julie and in the next breath
invited her to spend the night with him as his wife was
out of town. Julie believed it was in her best interest
to accept both offers. It turned out to be an excellent
decision. It was not a heroic thing to do in the
traditional sense, but then her goal as a 20-year-old
was to be a modern heroine.
When Julie lay on her back over the end of the bed,
exhausted, her long copper hair touching the floor,
Julie's middle-aged seducer Philip Wiseman (at that
moment she was thinking of him as Lucky Phil) stood nude
at the window of the hotel room looking back at her,
probably thinking she unbelievably young for him to have
nailed.
"If you can learn to write as well as you can fuck,
you'll go a long way young lady."
"Forgotten my name already?" she yawned.
"It's Susan."
Looking at him with difficulty from her position, Julie
frowned until catching the stupid grin on his face.
"Give me some advice Mr Agent; sorry I've forgotten your
name," she chuckled.
Philip said seriously, "Actually you write well and will
improve as time goes by. What you need is an illustrator
who is admired for his/her work by publishers. Offer the
illustrator little money but promise him/her much
through collaborating with you Julie. I'll give you a
few names."
And that's how Julie entered into a working relationship
with Gary Giles, a very temperamental and stubborn
illustrator of high repute. He was so moral that he
never tried to bed Julie, but his younger brother did
and after they had been living together for most of that
year, that brother Ted married Julie when she became
pregnant.
Julie's success as an author really lifted from the time
Gary began working with her producing pen drawings to
her requests once she had a publisher interested in her
proposal. She did not see much of Gary as he had more
than thirty clients. Those clients paid him cash, but
with Julie struggling to become a published writer he
agreed to collaborate without even a retainer. He'd seen
samples of her work and knew that eventually he'd be
receiving his share of her mushrooming income.
After weaning Paula, Julie commenced work as a
receptionist, employing a nanny to free her to enjoy the
stimulation she received from working downtown.
"That busy and unruly environment gets my creative
juices going," she told her husband, who was about to
buy into a partnership in his law firm.
Ted and Ted's mother thought Julie's place was in the
nursery but Julie's mother of reputable sensibility,
told her, "Just be a good mother Julie; flexibility is a
good thing."
Julie thought she would have grown into a sensible,
sensitive adult like her mother but she had a buzz
driving her that made her bounce about a bit, not quite
the thing that allows one to be sensible and sensitive
all the time.
She worked long into the night writing which suited Ted
who brought work home. They became efficient at having
sex around 11:30 and being cleaned up and ready for
sleep a little after midnight. They reserved their
longer romps for Friday nights and weekends.
Shortly before the birth of Tim, Julie severed her
business relationship with her brother-in-law Gary and
her agent Philip. Everyone including Julie herself
understood she'd have to stop writing to cope with the
increased demands of motherhood.
But months later Julie had become bored at being pinned
down; it seemed unnecessary as both the baby and the
twenty-month-year-old were easy to manage. She'd also
been toying with resuming writing and this was
stimulated when one evening Ted showed her story he'd
come across on an adult website (Julie thought he'd been
working).
"This so-called sexy story has been voted the best story
of the previous week by readers yet it's pretty feeble,
incorporating little imagination. You could do heaps
better with that luridly filthy mind of yours coupled
with your superior writing skills."
Julie remembered saying, "Superior writing skills?
That's kind of you honey if you mean it."
"I do and have always appreciated you earned those big
checks you used to get. You competed in a very crowded
marketplace."
"You're late with your praise, but it's accepted."
Lowering expectations because of what Ted had indicated
about quality of writing, Julie began reading the story
about a wife's infidelity and arrived at the end of the
article rather unimpressed.
"I see what you mean Ted. Are you sure you're
comfortable reading this filth?"
"Err yes."
Two evenings later Julie posted her first story to an
adult website which didn't pay for submissions or charge
people to read them. Ten days later her contribution was
posted as 'Story of the Week'. Next morning Julie found
three downloaded emails on her computer from anonymous
readers praising her writing and one from a rival
website inviting her to become a contributor and
possibly earning herself money.
Julie responded to that invitation and within a year had
pushed ahead of other authors to take top place on the
site's Top 10 list of money earners.
Read-Time Online Books allowed readers to view the first
chapter of any of its authors' short stories or novels
and thereafter it was pay for each chapter downloaded,
with a cut going to the author. The site found its
clients with a line of text picked up by most search
engines on the Web: 'Online Adult/Porn Literature – Pay
for What You Read; First Chapter Free'.
Julie was very particular about her status as an online
author: she wrote adult literature, not porn literature.
There was a difference, easily perceived, according to
her and she would deliver examples to her listeners.
The remuneration for the adult fiction writer was good.
As author of books of children's stories her annual
income ranged from $4000 to eventually touch $18,000. In
contrast, as an online author of adult fiction, she was
on target to earn $40,000 in the current financial year,
thanks to the runaway success of her latest mini-novel
and two sequels, each around 450,000 to 65,000 words,
about the closely linked lives of three sisters who
began work as young whores.
Julie was lucky to hit the mini jackpot because her
preferred genre of 'Adult Romances' slotted her a little
beyond the 'hottest' romance novels one finds in
bookshops 'respectable' websites but falls well-short of
porn novels that cause readers to emit steam from their
ears and nostrils or to puke. Of course, these days pay-
for-porn online writers are feeling the pinch because
there's now a sea of porn stories free for the taking,
which makes competing against it very difficult but not
impossible. Lurid professionally created 'covers' for
the electronic books is way one to draw readership and
of course superior writing is another.
Being a mother and through personal preference, Julie as
a reader stopped short of what she regarded as 'pure
filth written for sick minds' because she was
comfortable with keeping within her upper boundary she'd
established for erotic writing where her standard was to
feel she could accept anything she'd written being read
aloud at a dinner party of close friends and not
embarrassed.
The decision she faced now after Ted's demise was
whether to continue writing.
Ah yes, thought Julie, continuing to use the 'thinking'
time given her by her mother, now preparing lunch in the
kitchen. She heard the rumble of her father's car coming
along the driveway; he'd taken the children out for an
ice-cream and then to play on the swings at the park. It
was almost time to make her appearance.
Julie knew she didn't have to type another word for
money, or sit behind a reception desk holding a phone.
Ted had been killed as a passenger in a car driven,
according to several witnesses, in an exemplary manner
by the chairman of his company when they were side-
clipped by a speeding truck with its trailer swaying
from carrying an overweight container. The impact
slammed the two attorneys into the concrete portal of an
underpass, killing them both instantly.
The money was already coming in from Ted's two large
personal insurance policies and two years of salary plus
other pay-outs from his law firm where he'd risen to
become a senior partner. The company's own insurance
cover of $1,000,000 on Ted's life in the event of
accidental death in the course of his employment, was
pending; the delay in pay-out was due to the
commencement of legal proceedings against the truck
driver being blamed for the accident, after which
accident reports from various authorities would be
released. At issue was the person or persons to blame,
and to what extent?
Julie had a quick shower and emerged to find the
children waiting to tell her about being at the park.
After engaging with them, she took them down to lunch on
the huge outside deck, scene of her shocking behaviour
the previous evening. There was not the slightest sign
of vomit; she looked up to see her mom smiling and
returned it with her own grateful smile that said the
silent 'thanks mom'.
"Julie," said her father, voice in neutral. "Would you
like a glass of wine?"
Daddy's little girl didn't know what to say. Just like
all those years ago she looked at her mother, who
nodded.
Christ, thought Julie, any more of that pussy-footing
and she'd need to consult a psychologist.
"Yes please dad er just half a glass."
He poured it to the regular level without comment. Julie
had the desire to swallow it in a gulp but when handed
it, placed it beside her plate untouched. She noticed an
approving smile flit across her father's face.
But he wasn't finished with her.
"Julie?"
That one word was delivered in the old 'you've been a
naughty girl' tone pitched predominately authoritarian
but with a little apologetic ring to it, indicating he
was sorry for having to do this.
"Your mother and I don't want you to take this the wrong
way."
Christ, thought Julie, they're going to try to have her
admitted into some kind of institution for irresponsible
mothers. Her panic rose but so did her ire; they were
not going to get away with this.
As usual, her mom read her body language without even
appearing to study her.
"Hold tight dear, it's only a suggestion."
Her father glanced at his wife and daughter and
continued.
"As the school break finishes this weekend, Mary and I
have a little proposal that you are under no pressure to
accept. To give you a real quality time for yourself, we
wish to send you to a coastal resort of your choice for
a week and we have the children live with us until the
next school break, leaving you to visit them whenever
you wish, taking them out or being them when we go out.
That will give you several weeks to self-focus."
"That's very kind of you both, but..."
"Please Julie, just accept."
When her mom said that Julie knew she should accept;
rarely since Julie's mid-teens had her mom told her what
to do but she was doing that now.
"I'll get the sun bloc cream," Julie said, moving to
stand up and run.
"Stay!" barked her father.
Julie wanted to shout that she wasn't a fucking dog, but
the children were at the table and he mom was looking so
confident that Julie would give a carefully considered
response that Julie felt like throwing something.
Instead she plunged into the pool, fully dressed and
wearing a non-waterproof watch and her favourite
sunglasses.
At the top end of the pool she stood up, adjusted her
sunglasses and could see the children were laughing
merrily while her father was standing, wringing his
linen serviette in both big hands, murdering it. Julie
wasn't at all surprised to see her mother calmly eating
her chicken salad.
"Agreed and thanks!" she yelled. "That's brilliant."
James thudded down on his chair and joined the children
with his booming laugh.
On Saturday Julie saw the mutt um Rufus before she saw
owner Dillon and realized a repeat encounter like this
was all about life normalizing for her. The dog was on
the sidewalk across the street, in danger of breaking
its neck, trying to free itself to cross to her.
"Is Rufus hungry?" she called cheekily.
"No, he recognizes you. He's a real fan for pretty
ladies and just wants to say hi."
"That's superior to a corny pick-up line."
Without replying Dillon unleashed Rufus. He made a
beeline for Julie, who screamed.
"Keep calm," yelled Dillon.
Tongue lolling, Rufus leaped up at her, resting his
front paws on her waist.
"Good boy," she said, patting his head and found
apparently he wasn't hungry.
"What kind of beast is it?"
"Beast?" Dillon echoed, sounding a little curt. "He's a
Golden Retriever, keen and yet docile."
"And very beautiful."
"Do you think so?" Dillon said, appearing to stand two
inches taller.
"Yes I do and I should think he loves you."
"That's perception for someone who dislikes or is afraid
of dogs."
"That's a bit out of line. You have no idea of what I
like or dislike. I'm just not used to dogs."
"I apologize; that remark was uncalled for because you
did greet Rufus kindly. You appear to be very athletic."
What kind of remark was that?
Dillon meanwhile checked himself.
"Pardon me, what I said may have sounded a mite
personal. I watched the way you moved, and the way you
confronted Rufus when unaware of his intentions."
"I'd already worked out that he was unlikely to eat me
otherwise you would not let him off that piece of
leather."
"I unleashed him."
"You unleashed him then. Your language is not all that
precise either."
"What do you mean?"
"You rudely made a personal remark about the way I move
my body and then fudging the apology alleging you may
have been a mite personal. Have you any idea of the
meaning of mite in that sense?"
"I certainly do. I apologize for being personal in any
way but you do have a rather noticeable body."
"There you go again."
"Oh dear, so I have. Ma'am would you like a coffee down
at the village? It's only a short walk."
"No thank you. It was a lovely offer though."
"What about tomorrow?"
"Regretfully I'm off to the coast on vacation. I must be
off and so it's goodbye to you and goodbye Rufus. Enjoy
your day," said Julie, walking away and trying not to
allow her hips to sway. Omigod, a man had spoken to her
as if he was really interested in her as a woman rather
than as a widow who was feeling a shell of her former
self.
Next day Julie helped her parents load two vehicles with
the children's possession and other items needed for
their welfare and slept the night with them at her
parent's home. James had suggested that, as it would
help to 'bed' them in.
At the airport the following day, when Mary was away
buying a paperback to give to Julie, James told their
elder child he'd admired her for handing over the
children; he and Mary agreed the transfer would have
little effect on the children but the break could
significantly influence her.
"You thought I was going to react, um what's mom's word,
oh yeah, rambunctiously to your proposal?"
"It entered my mind when I saw the stroppiness rising in
you but I judged the maturing years would save the day,
and they did."
"But I'm the idiot who wastes my talent writing adult
crap instead of real literature."
"Oh Julie I'm sorry. I said that just to appease Mary as
she insists you write porn. I've read every story you've
had up on the Read-Time website. Sexy and brilliant is
how I describe your stories to our friends out of
earshot of your mother."
"You mean you read the free first chapters?"
"Nope I purchase the stories."
Julie looked at her father, mouth open.
Her mother returned and said, "Have you upset our
daughter James?"
Julie answered, "No mom, he's just told me in a peculiar
way that he loves and supports me."
"Of course he does darling. Now I've bought this
paperback that the young woman at the counter
recommended. It's from the top shelf to keep it away
from children. She said it's very hot and very popular.
I thought you would prefer it to one of the more mundane
best sellers."
"Good judgment mom, you've always read me like a book."
They all laughed and it was time for Julie to board her
aircraft.
CHAPTER 2
After a relaxing flight to the coast, Julie waited for
the 15-minute helicopter hop to Crusoe Resort on
Robinson Island. The heavily-treed resort dominated by a
golf course and a big expanse of rugged terrain, had
looked lovely from the air. Please with the quality of
her suite Julie sighed and stretched happily in the
heat.
She showered and changed into her bikini and went out to
find a martini. She was on the island for six nights and
had decided firmly to begin searching in the morning for
someone decent enough to take to bed. She had no
intention of becoming a sexually neglected widow.
The free-form pool was huge, with an island near the
centre of it from which grew four, no five palms. There
were two small bars poolside.
"A dry martini thanks (she paused to read his nametag)
Charles."
"Coming right up ma'am," said Charles, disappointingly
displaying yellow teeth.
"And a Tom Collins, both drinks on my account please
Charles.
"Yes sir Mr Chapman!"
"Don't I have any say in this?" laughed Julie, turning.
She was disappointed; Mr Chapman was in his early
fifties and had a very definite married look about him.
"No and what I'm offering is island hospitality. Hi, I'm
Mark Chapman, operations manager of this resort. Come
and meet my wife and children. Charles will bring our
drinks to us. I saw you enter unaccompanied and was
aware one solo was due on that last incoming flight."
"Hi Mark, I'm Julie Giles."
He smiled at her warmly and Julie had no surge of ego
when concluding he was impressed.
They'd arrived at a table occupied by four adults shaded
by a huge umbrella.
"Guys this is Julie Giles who's just arrived. Julie this
is my wife Sandy, my younger son Paul and partner Bobbi
and my elder son Russ."
After handshakes Julie settled the very personable
Sandy, beautifully made up and looking a little like a
first-class ex-flight attendant, noticed Julie's wedding
ring and said brightly: "You've left your husband
working to come up here to play?"
The question phrased that way caught Julie by surprise,
causing her to pause slightly before answering and even
when she began answering she knew it wasn't a diplomatic
response. She could see by the dismay coming into
Sandy's face upon realizing her blunder.
"No he's left me, I'm recently widowed."
Julie reached and touched Sandy's shoulder. "It's okay
Sandy, how were you to know? I've been meaning to get
the two rings cut off."
She turned and asked, "What do you work at Russ?"
"I'm assistant pro at the golf course," he replied
somewhat woodenly.
"He's a wonderful golfer," Paul said proudly. "Bobbi and
I are in our final year of doing law at university. Dad
runs this outfit with mom his PA. She was a commercial
jet pilot for a freight airline until a couple of years
ago."
"Wow," said Julie. "That's really impressive Sandy. I
thought you had an airline look about you."
"A cabin attendant?" said Sandy, her smile returning.
"Yes," giggled Julie, "But I did think first-class."
"What have you worked at, Julie?" asked Mark, coming
into the conversation. "Aircraft servicing?"
They laughed.
"I was a struggling author, working as a receptionist
and writing at night and weekends, initially on
children's books but in recent years I've been selling
my work internationally through the Internet.
"What genre?" asked Russ, not particularly interested
until hearing she wrote adult short stories and the
occasional novel.
"Good gracious, grunt, grunt," Mark chuckled.
"Mark!" called Sandy, smiling at him, and Mark came to
heel and asked, "What websites do you use for sales?"
"Only one, Read-Time Online Books."
"Oh I know that site," said Sandy. "They allow visitors
to read the first chapter of anything without charge.
They have one part of the site for Adult Literature and
the other for Porn."
"What's the difference?" Bobbie asked.
"Adult is soft-porn, Porn is hard-core," said Russ. "I
sometimes go to that site and have bought a couple of
books. What name do you write under?"
"Well, I really don't think..."
"Come on, we're not prudes and your secret identify is
safe with us. Anyway you should be proud of what you do
otherwise you shouldn't be doing it."
"Russ!" interjected Sandy.
"It's fine Sandy, he's absolutely right. I write as
Southern Rose."
"Christ."
"Russ, you're not out on the golf course," scolded his
mom.
"Bad language is prohibited on the course and in the
clubhouse but tolerated if used in moderation in the
changing rooms," said Russ, and then addressed Julie.
"Let's see, Young Whores Feed the Family and Three
Whores of Taradale and there's a third in the series. Am
I correct?"
Julie coloured.
"Yes and you know it's the first time I've met anyone
other than family or friends who have read my adult
books."
"I'll be reading Young Whores Feed the Family on Russ's
computer tonight," said Sandy and Bobbi said she'd read
over her shoulder.
"Have you written anything about law?" asked Paul,
wearing that same silly look many men get when trying to
be smart.
"Yes the hero and heroine in Deeply Inside You Darling
are both lawyers.
Everyone laughed at the astonished look on Paul's face
and Bobbi punched his arm saying that would teach him
for trying to put down a smart-ass writer.
"We'll I better be off and do my rounds," said Mark.
"Sandy has just whispered to me Julie that we would like
you to join us for dinner at 8:00 in the Sunset
Restaurant as our guest. Please say yes."
"Yes that would be lovely."
"Go grab a wrap and I'll run you around the course
Julie," said Russ and pointing said, "That's my cart
just over there."
"Russ Julie won't want to do that. Looking at a big
patch of grass is not a woman's idea of a resort
vacation."
"It's will be about more than grass mom; she'll learn
what a golf teaching pro does and use it as a setting
for a future book. Get your wrap Julie because it can be
a bit windy out on the course."
"What a great idea Russ. I was going to say no thanks.
After all, I did write my three books about the whore
sisters without speaking to whores about their work;
imagination is a wonderful thing. I may learn something
from you even if it's only how to drive a cart. Does it
run on aviation fuel or have its own power generator?"
The laughter wasn't loud, everyone guessing by Julie's
deadpan look she wasn't that naïve.
Julie enjoyed being in Russ's company and was intrigued
by the touch of despair about him. She learned from
Sandy that evening over dinner in great company that his
girlfriend had dropped him a couple of days ago.
The next afternoon she phoned the golf club and asked to
speak to Russ.
"If I come across now will you have coffee with me?"
"That sounds great," he warmly. "I'll just make sure Mrs
Mac will be here because we can't leave the shop
unattended."
Russ came back to the phone and said he could spend half
an hour with her.
Over coffee they talked liked new friends, and then
Julie told him about her recent trauma and how she was
determined to leave the hurt and huge upset behind her.
"I need a man Russ. Are you interested in taking me on?
Please understand until now I've never had the need to
ask for a date."
"You mean a date sexually?"
"Yes socially and sexually," she smiled sexily. "I'm
told that nights Wednesday through to Sundays here can
be really something for couples."
"Yes sure Julie and perhaps we should meet for dinner
this evening and then practice the sex thing set up well
for a really hot fling?"
"Oooh Russ," said Julie, jerking her chair to sit closer
to him.
Russ leaned over and their first kiss and was
accomplished beautifully.
* * *
Julie Giles card-swiped access to her luxurious suite
and holding the door open waved the now cheerful and in
fact eager-faced resort's assistant golf professional
Russ Chapman inside. Russ paused as he was passing her
and without grabbing, kissed her gently on her slightly
opened lips.
"Hmmm," breathed Julie as Russ broke off and pulled her
into the room.
Russ was revved up because Julie had calmly invited him
to be her lover when there hadn't been a spark of
potential connectivity between them. In fact she'd
advanced the suggestion with the emotion of someone
asking him for a packet of golf-tees.
Russ's interest was fired because she was the confessed
author of three electronic novels about the lives of
three sisters who were whores. He thought if this woman
could fuck as well as she could write about it, he was
about to be educated!
Over dinner Julie had confirmed she was an older woman;
she would be twenty-nine in a couple of months, five
years his senior. But Russ countered, saying he was used
to older women, some much older that Julie, because they
tended to be rather attracted to young golf
professionals as if swinging a club expertly meant the
pros were expert in another direction.
Well the time had come and it was good sex, but not top-
shelf level and Russ thought she was too tense and he
accepted it was to be expected from someone recently
widowed. They dozed off in each other's arms and then a
couple of hours later he received an invitation he
didn't welcome, with Julie saying to him sweetly, "Russ
I'd like you to go now; it's just that I don't think I'm
quite ready to wake up in the morning with another man
beside me."
Russ had fallen asleep thinking about licking her awake
in the morning and taking her gently, with sunlight
streaming through the floor to ceiling windows with an
outlook across the golf course to the ocean. Ah well,
she had explained to him so earnestly over dinner that
she was in a state of transition and he could remember
the loss when his favourite grandparent had died
suddenly.
"Just one more time?"
She kissed him on the nose, smiling, and opened up for
him. She was amazing, soft and so pliable and so
involved that she took him to a level of ecstasy he'd
never experienced before and then he gushed and she
yelled into her release.
Wow.
After Russ left, Julie stretched and groaned. She
imagined this felt like a wrung out rag, er for want of
a better description. It had been a long time since
she'd been taken to that peak.
She smiled, thinking about Russ pulling her on to the
bed after a brief kiss and hand-raking her contours.
He'd been so impatience, so eager to have her, that she
felt as if she was Mrs Experience and he was the pupil.
No that wasn't true, she giggled; she'd thought of
herself as being 'the pro'.
Russ had thrust in and out of her so quickly and with so
much intensity that she thought he'd cum with a rush and
he almost did. Pumping for perhaps only to minutes he
climaxed and rolled on to his back and with an arm over
his eyes and blurted, "I'm sorry."
"Sorry for what?" she'd said. "I'm flattered that you
were so eager to have me, and I'm sure you have good
feelings about me. You were just emotionally unstable
because of your recent loss of your girlfriend."
He was astounded.
"My recent loss is infinitesimal compared with your
recent loss!"
"Hush my sweet young man. There's no need to compare our
respective losses like...like...who's hit the longest
drive? Being dumped as you described it and being a new
experience to you, will have dented your ego, making you
feel miserable. That's a really big emotional hit on
you, and you appear to be coping very well.
"You know, despite how I write about sex I'm not widely
experienced and confess the lovers in my life can be
counted on less than 10 fingers."
When she'd awakened and Russ pleaded for them to go one
more time she'd said, "Allow me to learn about your body
before we go at it again and this time with more
finesse."
Julie had barely begun tonguing round his left nipple
when she felt his softness under her thigh stir. She
nipped the nipple and smiled approvingly, feeling the
hardness against her down below. She moved to across his
chest and had just commenced tongue rolling when she was
seized, flipped on to her back and was being rather
expertly kissed and tongued.
"That's it baby," she said, running her hands down his
smooth back to grab the tight pads of his darling little
butt. "Just like golf, it's all about focus, keeping
calm and rhythm and going through each movement
completely to end with a great result. Slow down a
little, darling."
"I love you, I love you," Russ murmured, burrowing his
mouth into her neck.
"I'm sure you don't, Russ but keep saying that to me and
you'll certainly end up with a better result. Remember
Russ, when I leave here we as a duo will be history; it
can't be anything else, but as sure as I am Julie I
guarantee no girl your age will wish to carelessly dump
you when I've helped you to gain the finishing touches."
Russ lifted up and smiled down at her, his face had
softened and his green eyes had darkened and now
appeared to be reflecting lust.
"Talk to me like that, Julie, and you'll get the fucking
of your life."
"That's my boy," Julie said, patting his back. "A big
part to living is having fun in bed."
"You're so different," Russ said, forehead furrowing.
"You talk like that and yet it doesn't seem sluttish."
"One doesn't have to talk and act like a whore to have a
lusty and open attitude towards sex darling. I regard it
as easily my favourite recreational/sporting activity."
"That sounds very healthy," he leered and came back with
a serious question: "You've made references to golf, yet
you told me you don't play golf?"
"Ah yes but the fact that I don't play it doesn't mean I
shouldn't know about how to play golf. If I tried, I
think you'd write me off as a golfing bunny."
The leer returned to Russ's face. Stroking his enlarged
penis he said he hoped that in the context of sex that
she was a bunny.
"You are about to receive a visitor."
Julie pulled him closer to kiss him. "Just nice and
easy, Russ; it's not a race."
Hours later, Julie awoke to find her bedroom bathed in
sunlight and regretted not having showered when she'd
gone for a pee after Russ had departed. She smelt of
sex, lots of sex.
"Gawd I feel like a virgin after the first night of her
honeymoon," complained Julie loudly and to nobody, as
she walked stiffly to the shower, feeling muscle
soreness and tenderness around her vagina and her thighs
at the top felt they were almost a foot apart.
She now considered herself a superwoman fucker like one
reads in novels; she must remember to adjust her writing
in that respect of soreness and stiffness when writing
about normal women suddenly getting very increased
attention.
CHAPTER 3
Julie went down for breakfast at 9:30, and the room was
almost empty, typical of a resort with its late-night
revelry.
Russ's mother Sandy came over with a tray of coffee for
two.
"May I join you?"
"Please do."
"My, you look almost radiant. Did Russ sleep with you
last night?"
"I threw him out about two o'clock"
"Not wanting to wake up with a strange man beside you?"
"Yes Sandy and that's perceptive."
"I can imagine the feeling, Julie. I feel happy for you.
I've not seen Russ this morning but fancy he'll be
whistling as he opens up the pro shop. You're good for
him and he will benefit as well. Let him stay tonight;
you need to let go."
"Thanks for talking to me Sandy. You know, just like
Russ is in need of someone to hold him, I'm need someone
offering comfort. Will you be that person? I screamed
and ranted when the police told me, Sandy and my eyes
moistened when I viewed his body and again several times
at the funeral. I've cried in frustration since but I've
not cried from deep within. Are you able to help make me
truly weep to achieve that release?"
"Of course dear one but not today. I'll take you to a
special place where perhaps we can make that happen, say
Thursday? Today you and I go shopping and tomorrow we go
to a great beauty parlour; you need some restructuring."
"Oh Sandy," Julie said, green eyes moistening. "That's
so kind of you. I'll pay for the chopper trips."
"We don't need the helicopter to get to the mainland. I
keep a light aircraft down beyond the far end of the
golf course. I need to get my flying hours up and so
we'll go in that. But you can pay for the helicopter
charges at cost when we go over to Barren Island off the
end of the peninsular. Joe who owns that charter company
will fly us at cost because he owes this resort plenty
of favours as we are his lifeblood, helping to keep his
three-helicopter business going."
Sandy's attitude was that when Julie returned home she
needed to find herself a man, a good man, and one way to
do that was to socialize and be attractively dressed and
made-up. Julie shared that view.
Julie loved her introduction to flying in a light
airplane and made Sandy laugh repeatedly because of her
bubbling enthusiasm.
They shopped for dresses for them both and in addition
for Julie shoes and jewellery that included a stunning
silver mesh chocker and aquamarine and pearl necklace
with a rhodolite garnet pendant. And of course another
suitcase to carry purchases when returning home early
the next week.
That night the family watching Russ and Julie at the bar
agreed they looked so good together. Mark said it was
amazing how a bit of skirt could make a difference to a
man. Grinning, Paul said his father would look better if
he were getting a bit more and his mother, said: "That's
enough of that suggestive talk Paul. For being so
disgusting you buy the next round of drinks but charge
them to my account, darling," she said, ruffling his
hair.
Being an open and direct person, Sandy already learned
from Bobbi that Paul was almost getting more than he
could handle. As they watched Paul strutting off to the
outdoor bar where it was Happy Hour, which meant fetch
your own half-priced drinks, Sandy and Bobbi exchanged
knowing smiles.
The next day was spent with Sandy and Julie both off the
island again having facials, their hair groomed and
nails done. Julie's naturally copper-coloured hair was
changed radically, from being long and straight and cut
evenly along the bottom to a ragged bottom cut to above
shoulder length and was blonde-streaked and razor-
finished to produce a style falling between casual and
formal.
The three males were already lounging at the bar for
Happy Hour when both women arrived in their new
casual/formal dresses and stood up to greet them,
expressing admiration.
"Two cool chicks," enthused Paul.
"You look lovely."
Sandy automatically went to thank Russ for that kind
remark and saw he was gazing at Julie.
"Your hair is nothing short of sensational Julie," said
Bobbi. "You'll look dressed to kill when in full kit."
"Okay that's enough crap," laughed Julie. "Russ you guys
have been lovely to me. Would you kindly fetch two
bottles of Bollinger's and six flutes and charge that to
my account."
"French champagne is excluded from Happy Hour half
prices."
"Who the fuck cares Russ? I feel happy."
The next day Sandy and Julie watched the helicopter head
back to base, leaving them alone on Barren Island and
barren it was, only five acres in area and not a tree
growing as it's rocky and wind-swept surface supported
only grasses and some hardly scrubby vegetation.
"There are caves in the cliffs at the other end, facing
the prevailing wind; they are ancient burial caves,"
explained Sandy. "I'm aware some people of native
ancestry bring bereaved relatives here after a family
death to a special place to say their last goodbye. I
thought I should bring you. We'll go down to the pebble
beach down there, talk and have our picnic. The
helicopter will be back in four hours."
"That long?"
"Once you get the feel of this place Julie, you'll feel
ready."
"You mean to deeply weep?"
"Whatever it takes dear."
Later Joe shouted as Sandy and Julie buckled in, "How
did it go girls?"
"Brilliantly," Sandy said, gripping his shoulder to say
a private thank you. Joe patted her hand, making Julie
wonder about the relationship between those two.
Julie said, "It was an unbelievable experience."
"We say fucking unbelievable around here," Joe chuckled.
"Fucking unbelievable" screamed Julie, who was still
highly emotional, sad but happiness was filtering
through
She watched the island as the helicopter lifted off and
didn't see Sandy signal a half circle to Joe and point
to the northern end of the island. He nodded and flew
around clear of the northern end, giving Julie a clear
view through her misting eyes.
For two hours when they rested on the pebble beach,
under Sandy's encouragement Julie had talked about her
life with Ted. Then they packed up and went on to the
wind-swept plateau, their jackets buttoned up and their
soft hats pulled down over their ears.
The scene at the northern cliff-face was awesome. The
pressure of water coming around the end of the
peninsular built the sea into big rollers that crashed
against the rocks of the small island with a fearsome,
continuous roar. The two women slowly became wet with
the misty spray floating over them from the boiling
surf, perhaps sixty feet below.
"I'll leave you now, you must be alone," Sandy shouted.
"Don't go too near the edge. I'll be sheltering behind
that rock outcrop we walked past. Good luck my sweet."
They kissed and then she was gone.
The moisture on Julie's face was sea spray, not tears.
The desolateness of this wild place reached into her.
She knew why she was there, but felt nothing apart from
loneliness and briefly, almost panic when wondering for
a moment if Sandy was still there.
She wanted to weep, but no tears came.
She wanted to say something, but no words emerged.
Very unhappy, ashamed that Sandy had taken so much
trouble to make something happen for her Julie stood
shivering, trying to think of words to form into a final
goodbye, a lament perhaps.
Nothing came to her, until her lips moved and words
learned at high school flowed quietly and hesitantly at
first. The second repeat was much improved, the words
flowed.
In her third rendition of Walt Whitman's O Captain! My
Captain her voice soared to be caught by the wind and
hurled back, allowing Sandy to catch some of the words.
Towards the end of the last verse, when Julie began the
line 'Exult, O shores! and ring, O bells!' a soft sob
clouded her words and she began weeping, feeling as if
it her voice was coming from her soul.
She stumbled two steps forward.
Sandy, who'd periodically peeped beyond her shelter to
check on Julie, looked out and saw her stumbling.
"Julie!" she screamed, but knew Julie couldn't hear her
and she screamed in frustration, knowing she was too far
away to try to save Julie from tumbling over the cliff.
Sandy ran and with relief saw Julie pause, and then turn
towards her, not finishing the poem.
Sandy held out her arms and Julie ran into them.
Julie was red-eyed, shaking but saying excitedly, "I
felt he heard me, I really do, Oh Sandy! Thank you, oh
thank you so much for making this happen. I've said my
final goodbye."
Her tears gushed and that Sandy, holding Julie tightly,
also began crying.
On Tuesday morning Julie was on the mainland at the
airport ready to be waved off by the Chapman family plus
Paul's girlfriend Bobbi.
"I don't recall having a guest quite like you," Mark
said, kissing and hugging Julie like a much loved
daughter.
Paul and Bobbi joked about her snaring a man. "Perhaps
you'll snare two simultaneously to give your next book
extra spice," joked Paul.
Julie and Sandy hugged and hugged and Sandy told her:
"We've definitely never had a guest quite like you. I
now think of you almost like my own daughter."
Russ took Julie aside and they looked at each other,
kissed, looked at each other while talking softly and
kissed again. She handed Russ a small present, he opened
it and held up a very elegant stainless steel and
crystal-faced watch.
Julie lingered until her name and the names of two other
no-show passengers were called. She walked towards the
boarding entry, but just as she was holding out her
boarding pass she turned and went racing back to the
group, making a bee-line for Sandy. They hugged and
howled and Sandy and Bobbi marched her back to the
bemused airline staff.
The security door was unlocked and the very late final
passenger was told to run for it; they were holding the
aircraft for her.
* * *
Mary was at the airport to collect Julie and in delight
almost had difficulty recognizing her daughter.
"You look wonderful darling; just look at you a
thoroughly modern Millie. I apologise darling but I
wouldn't allow the children to miss school and James is
out of town. Paula and Tim have become ever so confident
on the phone with you calling them each evening just
before bedtime. They are so happy with us and I would
like you to let us keep them till the next school break.
That will allow you to settle properly."
Julie sighed and nodded, patting her mom on the
shoulder.
Mary drove Julie's home where lunch was already
prepared.
"You're so damn efficient mom. It's a perfect example
why most men can't live without women."
"Food on the table is only one thing," her mother said,
smiling a little wickedly.
Julie reached over and held her hand.
"I've told you some highlights over the phone, but I've
kept this special story and details about a special
woman so I can tell you in person, because it will take
some time and it's highly emotional. The woman's name is
Sandy Chapman and the story is about her taking me to
Barren Island."
They both were crying when Julie finished the story.
"Next to you mom, she's the greatest woman I know."
"I gathered that Julie, and am so pleased for you. We
must get Sandy and her husband down to stay."
Julie compromised over the children. She let they stay
on with their grandparents but joined them for dinner
three nights a week and they went out together every
Saturday for dinner and went shopping and met the
children's grandparent's for Sunday lunch at one of the
children's favoured venues.
"Tim's been very brave about you been away as he rather
likes his mommy," announced Paula, sounding much older
than six years and ten months. "I've taught him to be
brave and that's helped me too. We hold hands and say
we've doing this for mommy."
Julie raced from the room for a miserable howl.
Late on her first Saturday morning home she was hosing
and scrubbing the white-paint wooden front fence when
she was almost knocked over and panting and doggy breath
announced Rufus' arrival at her side. She dropped the
hose and hugged him.
"Addicted to dogs now, are we?"
"One particular dog is doing his best to establish
rapport so it's only right that I respond
appropriately."
"Oh good, that means you're definitely accepting my
standing offer to coffee down at the village."
"It doesn't because I need a shower, to change my
clothes and attend to my hair and face."
"Please accompany me now but I offer a compromise: I'll
give you five minutes max to brush your hair and put on
lipstick and to change your shirt."
Julie bristled, about to tell this man where to go. The
audacity of the guy who'll be married with a dozen
children or most probably fewer.
"I'm counting on cooperation; it's lonely for me out
here in suburbia."
The plaintive appeal weakened her resolve as it was
meant to do.
"I won't be ten minutes. Sit please Rufus."
Rufus thumped down on to his rump, panting and eyeing
her.
Rufus' master looked astonished. "How did you do that?
He only sits for me out on a walk if I bark the command
with slight menace in my voice. You made a request,
lumped in with another sentence, and confused the order
by inserting please."
"I don't know how to talk to dogs, but I'm a fair hand
at talking to child and know the power of eye contact."
"That was remarkable, bloody remarkable. We must
introduce ourselves. I'm Dillon Jackson and live too
blocks over."
"Hi Dillon, nice name. I'm Julie, currently known to my
parents as Legless Julie for reasons which we don't need
to go into right now."
"You mentioned a possible reason for that when we last
met, so we have complete understanding and can simply
socialize like any two near strangers enjoying a
Saturday morning walk with a dog who defers to the
woman."
"Wow with complex sentence structure like that I'll have
to listen to you carefully."
"Run along. Is that better?"
"Ah you're smart with possibly a tendency towards
humour. I expected Rufus wouldn't have a bean-head for
an owner," Julie said, moving off to do her hair, put on
underwear, change her shirt and attend to her face. She
was back alongside Rufus in three minutes and seventeen
seconds, according to Dillon, who'd looked at his watch
and went "Wow!"
They walked briskly and talked lightly, without real
substance, as strangers usually tend to do as everything
is new territory and lacking boundaries. So they talked
the uninspiring talk about the weather, commented about
Rufus, how the one-vehicle per household was a rarity
today with three or even more vehicles per household
becoming more common and where they usually shopped. An
occasional exploratory question was dropped in such as
"Do you swim?"
"Yes, are you a fan of motor spot?"
Indeed, quite uninspiring but at least as strangers they
were talking.
As to be expected, over coffee the tone of conversation
lifted a couple of notches and music and film
preferences were discussed and a more personal question
was attempted, "Have you always lived in this
neighbourhood?
Julie replied yes and Dillon said he'd been living there
for the past eleven years and before that had always
lived within 100 miles of where they were standing.
They sat out on the sidewalk strip of table and chairs
under colourful umbrellas to be near to Rufus because he
was banned by the 'No Dogs' notice at the doorway though
it was ignored by a huge elderly woman with a lap dog
and, as Julie pointed out, the notice was discriminatory
against dogs because there was no similar notice banning
lions and tigers.
Dillon laughed and in the same moment while Julie was
off-guard said, "Come out with dinner with me this
evening."
Disappointment flooded his eyes when she stood up and
said sorry she had a prior engagement.
"I must go, so much to do. You two continue on with your
long walk. Thanks for coffee."
He smiled, saying he'd enjoyed her company and the smile
creased into a grin when she said likewise and they must
do it again.
She walked home thinking about finishing cleaning the
front fence and the other jobs on her metal list. But
then she was intrigued to have the mundane pushed from
her mind by images of his face and she attempted to
visualize his chest. She walked faster, attempting to
visualize her late deceased husband; the images weren't
nearly as vivid and stable as they ones they'd just
replaced. That didn't worry her as she'd always accepted
the fact that life moved on and more dynamically so if
encouraged.
She knew that tears wouldn't bring Ted back but
nevertheless her eyes filled and her day saddened until
she dressed late afternoon to go to collect her children
to take them to the park.
CHAPTER 4
Julie spent a couple of days clearing the house of Ted's
personal possession, leaving some aside for his parents,
two brothers and a sister.
She took the last photo she had of Ted to be framed for
the family gallery in the hallway, placing it low so the
children could see it easily. Alongside that she placed
their last family photo. She felt sad, doing this but
pleased to have such a photographic record. Finally
there was little of Ted left about the house apart from
those photographs plus many of their joint possessions
and, of course, things he'd personally given the
children that would carry memories.
Almost asleep on the sofa instead of planning what to do
next, Julie heard the phone go. The caller was Al
Ludwig, the new executive chairman of Ted's law firm.
After the greetings Al said he'd called twice at the
house with wife Eva after the funeral but Julie had been
out. She told him about her resort holiday and he was
pleased to hear that.
"Julie, the firm's insurance cover is being paid out in
full and will go into your bank account this coming
Friday. I wish to invite you here tomorrow to talk to
our firm's principal financial adviser as having
$1,000,000 just sitting in a bank account is not a very
good idea."
She could have told him there she now had more than
$2,000,000 in cash and on interest-earning short term
deposit, but that didn't seem necessary.
"Some of his suggestions may appeal to you, Julie, but
perhaps not. It is a complimentary advisory service and
you are under no obligation to accept any of his advice.
My only concern is that you listen to at least one very
solid advisor from a blue chip company that's fully
resourced for financial management, research and its
credentials more impressive than most banks."
"Thank you. What time?"
"My suggestion is 11:30 Julie, then I'd like you to
lunch with me in the boardroom. It will be just you and
me and our human resources manager. If you don't mind me
saying so Julie, it's not a great idea for you to be
alone in that big house all day, and with only two
little kiddies for company. I would like to see you back
in the workforce and wish to make you an offer tomorrow
over lunch."
The ass, thought Julie. He may be one of the leading
authorities in the country in constitutional law but
he's practically bereft of humanity. He's interfering in
her life, though that financial advice thing sounds
sensible. But if he thought she would agree to become a
department receptionist in that sprawling empire of his,
he needed to get his thinking straightened out.
Julie dressed up as she never went downtown looking like
a suburban housewife. Al was bowled over.
"Julie pardon for me saying this, but you look
magnificent."
"And you Al, you look spiffy yourself."
The financial adviser was intelligent and articulate. On
the other side of the ledger – Julie purposely thought
that phrase - his clothes didn't fit him well and he was
dull. But what he told Julie appealed in parts so that's
where she directed her questions.
That led to him asking, "Er, how much of the one mil do
you wish to place under our management if we come up
with packages that appeal to you?"
"Two mil," she replied, slipping into the jargon.
"I don't think you quite understand..."
"Two million dollars is ready and waiting in cash or on
call Arnold and so please get you team to get off their
butts."
"Yes Mrs Giles. I'll be pushing all buttons the minute
you leave this room."
"Arnold, don't be a pain; you were calling me Julie
before the amount of money was mentioned. Please make
sure that everyone who deals with me calls me Julie
otherwise I shall be cross."
"Certainly Julie. I guess you will want a platinum card,
I can get that for you; all you will have to do is
sign."
"No thank you Arnold, my battered old ordinary card
works perfectly. Why should I want to change? One
impresses with style and body language, Arnold not with
little bits of plastic. The door please Arnold."
"Yes ma'am er Julie," said Arnold, bouncing out of his
chair.
After a wonderful lunch, with Al admitting the idea of
the job offer was initiated by his wife Eva, Julie and
the chic female manager spent most of the lunch hour
lightly teasing Al about his clothing, his attitudes and
for ignoring the value of Eva in his corporate life.
"You should express your appreciation and buy her a
pearl necklace," said Julie.
"No I think jade, said the HR manager who was Al's
daughter-in-law Laura.
"Well, that raises the ante a bit," said Julie. "Perhaps
silver and gold?"
"Or move up a bit and make that gold and silver."
"We haven't mentioned diamonds, have we?" taunted Julie.
"Stop!" yelled Al. "Laura could you look around for a
couple of suitable gold and silver no, make that silver
and gold necklaces for me to inspect. Now more wine
ladies. This French sauterne is impeccable."
Laura and Julie went down two floors and emerged from
the elevator giggling.
"Thanks," she said to Julie. "That's the best lunch I've
ever had with him in the office, yet at his home and at
our place he's a completely different person. Here most
people are scared...um..."
"Shitless""
"Yes," giggled, Laura, "...in his presence. It's going
to be lovely having you around. I think I've imbibed a
little too much."
Julie signed the contract that was already waiting for
her after Laura made three minor alterations and
inserted two more clauses.
"That now goes to our legal department where it may rest
in a pile for a week before it is vetted and comes back
to me to counter-sign. Al has already agreed in
principle to those two clause insertions you want. We
should have the completed document out to you sometime
next week."
"You took it for granted I'd accept."
"Yes, because it seemed an activity well suited to you.
I'm not sure that you know that but drafts of your books
are on our server, available to only a selected few who
have the access. Ted was so proud of you being a
successful author. He was particularly proud that the
free chapter of "Young Whores Feed the Family" gained a
record 2.3 million hits for the website that is
marketing it."
"In comparison we have articles called 'The Public and
the Law' in the public access section of our firm's
website and our record of hits for an article is 203."
"Thousand?"
"No two hundred and three. Period."
"Well, the name Public and the Law is not very sexy, is
it? If you had a title like, say, "Fuck, I didn't know
that" you'd probably need to install new servers and
duplicate pipelines to handle the boost in traffic. That
title would be a little too radical for a law firm.
Perhaps it should be 'Pssst – here's something HOT'. And
inside first on the menu should be an article titled:
'Can my secretary seduce me and get away with it?' and
another, 'Adultery, don't take it sitting down'"
"That's a little too radical for us, Julie, but I'll get
you to talk to our Public Interfacing Team manager.
"Your what?" Julie chortled.
Laughing, Laura said with Julie aboard there was a good
chance that culture within the firm would be getting a
radical shake-up.
"I rather think not, I'll just be a very small cog in a
huge mechanism."
Laura thought about that. "Look, I'll take you along for
Friday night drinks with a special group of dissidents.
We are harmless, and work only for internal change,
calling ourselves The Young Revolutionists, but I
supposed you'd want that name changed?"
"I read a book from the school library years ago called
Up the Organization.
"Brilliant, Julie, what a perfect name. Don't wait till
you start this us, come with me this Friday night."
Julie went home well pleased. Laura was right; the job
was a perfect fit. She'd be joining a 'quality
assurance' investigating team. Members went out in pairs
to interview defendants on bail looking for changes in
statements since being interviewed by the police or who
had remembered there were other witnesses not
questioned. In some cases an investigating duo returns
to the crime scene to look for inconsistencies or
attempted to find witnesses who'd been afraid of talking
to the police. Anything but anything that could be
beneficial to the defence.
Being out and about would bring her into contact with
strong and even flawed characters that'd be noted and
those notes became part of Julie's database to use when
conceiving realistic fictitious characters for her book.
Well, that took care of the heavy stuff, she thought.
She had ago herself into something that that would
accelerate her social contact with people. Now ahead of
her was the pleasurable task of finding a suitable live-
in nanny for the children.
One would assume that would be easy for Julie but she
didn't find it so, not even when using an expensive
find-a-nanny agency. In fact she became appalled at the
thought of some of these people interviewed being locked
in the house alone with dear little Paula and Tim. As
for her future husband and loving stepfather of Paula
and Tim he was nowhere in sight, unless she'd overlooked
him.
Perhaps there were none as blind as they who cannot see,
she smiled within.
The small advertisement placed on the notice board for
all female dorms at the Julie's old university read:
Paula (6) and Tim (5) invite young university women who
are loving and caring with sweet dispositions and
impeccable backgrounds to be interviewed by Paula and
Tim's mommy to be their live-in nanny outside school
hours to 7:00 at nights and to include some evening and
weekend babysitting as required. Free accommodation, all
meals and drink (not alcohol) plus a gratuity of $250 a
week. Childcare rate after 7:00 and weekends $15/hr.
Please phone Julie...
The advertisement gave Julie's cell phone number.
As one would expect, though, for some reason not Julie,
the advertisement attracted mostly riff-raff. Four
people responded to that advertisement, one was male.
The first applicant coming to the front-door had a gold
ring through an eyebrow and another through the side of
her nose.
"A cool house," said the young woman. "Great for
bashes."
"I call you if you're successful," said Julie warmly
(rising terror makes a person heat up).
The next young woman sat in the chair, head-bowed and
Julie had to keep waking her up.
"I'm not sure if I want this job," yawned the applicant.
Julie settled that impasse for her.
Finally the third came bouncing up the path wearing
headphones with music pounding from an MP3 player.
"Where are the little darlings? I have no children and
want to take them to the mall pretending I'm a mother.
Don't ask me to feed them meat, milk products,
vegetables harvested from under the ground or pasta,
rice, fruit unless it's in its half-life. I also want a
car and five hundred bucks a week. Any questions?"
"Yes," said Julie sweetly. "I'm confident you'll find
out own way out?"
The fourth applicant (how a male was able to read an
advertisement posted in a female dorm area was a
mystery) was not invited for an interview.
The agency people took five hundred dollars from Julie
and said they would sent five 'perfect applicants for
your consideration, ma'am'.
They sent three.
The first woman was easily 220 lbs and broke one of
Julie's dining room chairs when siting on it for a rest
during the walk-through shown through the house. The
woman eventually decided it would be unsafe for her to
walk up the stairs.
The second woman couldn't speak English so hadn't a clue
what Julie was trying to say to her.
The third woman smoked, was half drunk and appeared
unwashed.
"Fuck!" Julie wailed (her favourite expression when
angry or dispirited).
She'd just terminated the call to her mother, who'd
agreed to keep the children until Julie found a suitable
nanny, when the phone went.
"Good evening, (sniff, sniff), Julie, I'm responding to
your advertisement for a live-in nanny."
"Are you okay?" asked Julie; the young woman sounded
shaky and was sobbing.
"Yes. May I come to see you now?"
"Yes, though it's almost 10 o'clock. Why the urgency?"
"I've just been hit-upon by a lezzie; when I told her to
shove off she hit me to the ground, and then kicked me."
"Goodness have you reported her?"
"I don't know who she was. I was in our quad alone and
the lights were off."
"Look bring your sleepwear. You can stay here the night
and we'll sort out something in the morning. I'll take
you to the university authorities and if the fuckers
can't guarantee your safety I'll take you to the
police."
"There's no need to resort to bad language."
"Oh did I swear? I'm sorry, I tend to do it a bit but
never in front of the children, at least I don't believe
I do."
"I'm happy to hear that, Julie. Children are our
citizens of tomorrow and it's important that they get a
good moral upbringing and learn the difference between
right and wrong."
Julie's free hand fell on to her chest; was this young
woman for real? Her spirits lifted.
"Jump in a cab and come here quickly, er..."
"Irene Shanks."
"Into a cab now, Irene," said Julie, giving Irene her
address.
Irene arrived red-eyed but not crying, a pleasant
looking girl perhaps a country girl. She was of average
height and average weight for her build. Her only make-
up appeared to be lipstick. She'd filled the cab with
bags, two paintings, two soft bags of dirty washing, a
radio, small TV; in fact everything a student would want
for dorm life including personal bedding.
"I've brought everything; I'm not going back to dorm
life. If you don't want me as part-time nanny I'm
returning home."
"Well, let's get everything into the house and we'll
have a wine, or something stronger if you wish."
"I don't touch alcohol."
Julie's heart attempted to lift out of its rib cage; she
was so happy and almost could hear angels singing.
"Thank you for sending her."
"Who are you talking to and why do you have your hands
clasped in front of you like that, Julie? You aren't
overly religious, are you?"
"No dearest Irene. I'm just a sweet and no longer
troubled mother who's just experienced a miracle."
"But Julie um you don't mind me calling you Julie, do
you?"
"No, proceed, Irene."
"Aren't you going to interviewed me?"
"There's no need, Irene. You'll fit the role perfectly.
Come, I'll get your tea or coffee. I'm treating myself
to a large brandy."
In the morning the children inspected Irene. She looked
a little nervous.
"Our mother went to that big school for much older
children," Paula volunteered.
"That place is a university dear. I gained my degree at
the university where Irene goes each week day."
"What's a degree?"
"It's a piece of paper Tim; it says your mummy completed
all of her school work and her teacher was so pleased
she gave her big ticks and a special piece of paper
saying that."
"I knew that."
"Don't tell lies Tim."
"Paula," Irene said gently. "Let Tim think he knows; if
we need to know what he doesn't know we can easily find
out. It's cruel is say someone is telling lies, even if
they are."
"Is that right mom?"
"Yes and it's a beautiful answer Paula. We are so lucky
to have a nanny who can answer like that."
"Can I sit beside you Irene?"
"Yes Tim."
"But he was going to sit beside you anyway because there
are only four chairs at the table."
"That's partly correct Paula, but there are four other
chairs not counting your mom's, so if Tim were to sit in
this chair..."
"But he doesn't sit there; he's always sat on this side
even when he was in his high chair. That other chair was
daddy's chair and now you are expected to sit in that
place."
"How old are you Paula?"
"Six, I'll be seven very soon."
"And I'm five."
"And I'm 28 and feeling younger by the minute," Julie
giggled.
"And I'm 19 and will be twenty in two months and I think
its lovely having a family around me like this. I've
miss my family so much."
"You talk as if you have young sisters and brothers,"
Paula said playing with her breakfast.
"She'll probably be at university by the time she'd
ten," Irene said, very impressed at Paula's mental
agility.
That evening with the children asleep and Irene in Ted's
study doing university work, Julie poured herself a
brandy and thought: What now? Ah yes, a replacement
father for my children, someone who can also attend to
me after a huge glass of brandy. What's your plan girl;
where is this Knight of your nights?
"Oh, must I have a plan?"
She checked on the children and smiled in awe. On the
end of their beds, neatly stacked, were their clothes
for next morning. Feeling so uplifted by that masterly
stroke of efficiency Julie decided she was not going to
bed; she'd begin a new novel.
Although not having a clue what she'd write about, Julie
booted the laptop and staring at the blank document page
and then typed on word, 'The.'
A few minutes later she began a story, based on fact,
commencing not in chronological sequence, but rather a
little way down the track; she would return to the
beginning later:
The black and red helicopter, buzzing as if landing on
the Isle of Absolution in frenzied feeding excitement,
deposited two warmly dressed women, one a fair-skinned
blonde with her hair in its French roll defying the
brisk wind, the other a taller and younger woman with
wisps of copper-coloured hair escaping the cocoon of her
hooded jacket. That woman was dressed entirely in black.
After the shrieking helicopter departed, allowing them
to drop their hands from their ears, the isle's sole
human inhabitants hugged, the taller having her face
stroked as if in need of loving mothering.
Perhaps they were mother and daughter, although they
appeared distinctly different. They looked to have
arrived on this bleak, treeless rise of ancient stone on
a mission of great importance.
What is that purpose?
Julie looked at what she'd just written, quite
unsurprised. She frequently directly transcribed
innermost thoughts like this without having had them
bouncing though the forefront of her mind in words
flashes. In this way they arrived mostly in randomly
displaying images that she recognized as 'word
pictures'.
She required a working title to give this novel its own
personality rather than some jumbo-mumbo like 0624T5-
JGiles. Her brain without visualization in this case,
sent impulses that initiated her fingers to type, 'A New
Lover and New Daddy'.
You optimistic girl, Julie grinned tiredly. No-one was
lined up and you're writing a story about it. She went
off to bed.
Those few words were similar to the first brushstroke of
a painting. The first action had been accomplished;
those words might not survive but at least the
paragraphs represented a starting point. They formed the
embryo of a story that in all probability would grow;
she could now, in her own time, think about that growth.
Already one thought had formed while she looked at her
writing; it would not be an Adult story.
While Ted had supported her contributing novels to an
adult website and had praised her work, she knew that he
was not comfortable that her work went on to a dual
site, the other section carrying a stigma because of the
generalized name of its literary classification was Porn
With Ted and others like him, black was black and white
was white. An Adult publication went beyond the line of
accepted family decency, as parents would not like young
readers to read such literature at a tender age, and
Porn was just another name for filth, no matter how
brilliantly it was written, edited and presented.
This novel would basically be her story, pre-Ted, Ted
then post-Ted, perhaps best described as a mid-life
autobiography. Hopefully it would emerge as an
inspiration to other young widows having to fill the gap
in life ahead of them.
It would produce controversy, of course. In identifying
herself as a writer of sizzling adult fiction, the term
'Adult' would be immediately blatantly converted into
the term 'Porn' by the media and other less able folk
honestly unable to make the distinction.
Julie accepted she was architect of her reputation: her
somewhat irrelevant approach to life, swearing, getting
legless in binge drinking and being prepared to dump her
children on to her mother and oh yes, that's how it
would be interpreted, earning her numerous black
crosses.
But that was not all; her efforts to find a replacement
husband and father would create outrage, she being
publicly criticized for 'moving with indecent haste'.
Any such criticism would be difficult to rebut and she'd
be alone facing the baying pack if her book managed to
grab attention, but she believed it would because there
were a huge number of desperate young and many more not
so young widows out there.
Julie stretched watching the computer shut down, looking
at a small photo of Ted pinned to the edge of her messy
bookshelves screwed to the wall just beyond her
computer. She'd known Ted had been aghast that she'd
placed the cheap bookshelves against the wall of their
professionally furnished bedroom of impeccable taste and
quality. But being a good guy, he'd said nothing,
accepting she was on a roll and needed her freedom for
her mind to soar, not to be engaged in conflict about
cheap bookshelves. Julie hauled her thinking back to the
new manuscript.
If she wrote with a slightly sad 'voice' and yet
allowing her natural irreverence to shine through the
media would rush at her and she might even be the
centrepiece of rousing TV debates and a featured speaker
at national conferences where community standards were
of real interest.
She loved fantasizing like this.
She said aloud: "I may have this book punch through the
1 million sales barrier and have filmmakers screaming
for the film rights."
Julie yawned, thinking how interesting and how
incredibly vain and went off to bed.
CHAPTER 5
The children went off school and Irene almost skipped
off to catch the bus to university, appearing a
different person to the woeful lass who came to the door
late two nights earlier.
Julie had two contacts to re-establish.
"Hi Julie," said the first person she called. "Sorry I
haven't been round to see you or to have you home for a
meal."
"That's okay," she said to Gary Giles, "Although you are
my brother-in-law I am a bit of a misfit being a widow
with two children."
"Don't be like that Julie."
"Well, tell me the real reason for your indifference
Gary?"
"I don't have to take this from you, Julie, I'm sorry
but..."
"Hold it Gary, let's switch to business. My main purpose
in calling is to ask you to attend a meeting on Monday
week. I'm writing a book based on Ted's death; it will
be a regular publication, pitched as a mid-life
autobiography. I'll be asking Paul Wiseman to flick it
on to a publisher. In seven days' time I'll have the
synopsis and three chapters to give to you and Paul."
"I'll pay you cash, expecting a family discount, to
design a draft cover so my draft chapters make more
impact. I'm aiming to be married before finishing the
book, Gary and people like you are going to consider
that is with indecent haste and it will kick up a storm.
That should push sales through the 1 mil barrier."
"You sound amazingly confident."
"I am. Did you read my whores trilogy?"
"No that sounded too risqué for me, but Beth devoured
them and reckons you're a brilliant writer."
"Then why doesn't she invite to lunch one weekend with
the children and talk to me about what she likes to
read?"
"Julie!"
"Don't be a bird brain Gary. I had no part in Ted's
death and so don't take it out on me."
"Julie, I..."
"Monday week for that meeting Gary. I call to arrange a
time and place. Bye."
Julie tossed her phone on to the sofa and placed her
face into her palms, resting on her elbows over the
table and staring into space. Gary was a surly,
heartless bastard but he could draw. Something must have
happened to him in childhood.
Her thoughts then drifted and centred on her new book, a
real book this time. People reading it would come to
realize just how much she and Ted loved each other yet
never crowded each other's space.
Oh yes, that truck driver, what was his background and
why was his truck so heavily overloaded causing the
crash that killed her Ted and Cecil Thompson? When she
began work at the investigation unit she would ask her
manager to do some background research as it may be
months, perhaps a year or more before the case came to
Court and was settled, and then her own claim for loss
and damages against the driver and his company and
insurance company would proceed.
She thought if that claim were successful she might give
the net amount she received to charity. Ted would like
that and she might do some digging to find if there were
any private organizations doing research into overloaded
vehicles or bad driving practices in the heavy vehicle
industry.
Her phone went.
"It's Beth, Gary had just called, and he's in such a
state. We are terribly, terribly sorry for cold
shouldering you Julie and we love your children, we
really do. We behaved badly and cannot explain why.
Please forgive us, Julie."
"Shhhh Beth, don't you get upset. I'm quite calm about
it; I just wanted to force the issue. You know me, full-
on Julie. If it's broke I want it fixed. Just tell me
you love me, Beth and terminate the call. That's enough
for me."
"I don't want to cut the call Julie. I love you, I
really do. You were the perfect sister-in-law, you have
style, humour, never lost for a word and you're so
exciting. You are what I've always wanted to be. I don't
envy you; I admire you. Come to lunch on Sunday please.
Even if it's only me there. I want to see my darling
niece and nephew."
"Right, we'll be there at noon for drinks and will be
accompanied by their nanny. Now listen to me Beth, it
will be hard for you listening to this, but listen you
must. There's a blip inside Gary somewhere and Ted's
sudden death has brought the little monster nearer to
the surface, I would suggest. I've always thought he's
stopped you from flying, criticizing you in front of us
for having you skirt too short, wearing too much
lipstick, laughing too loud after you've had a few
drinks, yet at other times he's so kind and generous and
outgoing."
"He's got a blip Beth and you've got to help him get
himself sorted out. Don't rush it and perhaps you should
see a consultant first."
Beth asked, her voice shaking, "You mean a
psychiatrist?"
"No I don't Beth, they are for extreme cases. A
psychologist and most will talk to anyone who waves
money at them."
There was a silence, and Julie let it continue.
"He'll be angry at me going behind his back."
"I get angry jamming my leg in the car door Beth. You
have to decide what's best. But unless you think he'll
physically thump you, a verbal assault is the worst
you'll get and if you're prepared for that it will seem
like only hot air being dispelled, but remember to look
crestfallen as he might not be back off until he's seen
that. Gary has that type of control over you."
"I'll have to think about this."
"And so you should; it's your business and I'm only a
big-mouth ex-sister-in-law trying to get your out of a
hole Gary's dug for you. If you get him fixed up he'll
cheerfully invite us to lunch once a month or whatever
and will come to us on a reciprocal with a smile on his
face."
"I think I'll be doing it Julie. Hearing this from you
it seems the right thing to do."
Julie asked, "Are we still on for lunch on Sunday?"
"Of course. I love you Julie and want you near me and to
be an uplifting influence on me."
"Ooh careful, Beth. I'll be itching to get those hem
lines lifted, that hair reshaped, teeth whitened and I
think you should be shaving your vulva and..."
"Julie!" shrieked Beth. "How do you say it … for fuck's
sake, Julie, give me some breathing space. Let's fix the
door before we attempt to walk beyond it."
"That's brilliant Beth. I've never heard you use that
word before, and for you it's eminently suitable."
Beth thanked Julie again. Julie made her cry, saying she
loved her and Beth was truly one of her closest friends.
"Ah," sighed Julie, coming off the phone and talking
aloud. "I think I've got that sorted. Beth has the
brains to go softly, softly with her erratic husband and
she's a determined lady."
Julie poured coffee and then phoned her ex-agent Paul
Wiseman.
"Great to hear from you Julie, how've you been?"
"You would have known if you'd phoned or called around
for a drink Paul."
He apologized for the neglect and when Julie stated her
business he said he was sorry be had more business than
he could handle at present.
"Then get a fucking assistant Paul, even a part-timer."
"I've thought about it but sorry I can't slot you in."
"What if I mentioned to your wife that you once went to
bed with me and were very, very active?"
Paul sounded subdued when he said, "When would you like
a meeting, Julie?"
"On Monday week thanks Paul. I'll phone with the time
and place"
"That's fine; what kind of book?"
"My mid-life autobiography Paul."
"Oh yeah," he almost yawned. "How many copies of that
will be purchased?"
"Optimistically speaking I'm picking perhaps a mil. Bye
Paul."
Julie laughed, having the image of Paul looking at his
phone and scratching his head or with Paul that would be
scratching his nuts.
Lunch on Sunday went extremely well. The Giles' children
although older played well with Paula and Tim. Beth and
Julie got nicely away on Chardonnay pre-lunch and as
Gary's wine took effect he was smiling and almost back
to his old self. Beth told Julie in the kitchen that
Gary had made his first visit to his psychologist who
was confident of getting him sorted; the problem
appeared to be minor molestation from a female teacher
at junior school.
Julie and the children returned home to an empty house
as Irene had gone home for the weekend and would not be
back until sometime Monday afternoon. Julie put the
children to bed and they moaned about missing Irene.
Julie put her feet up and listened to classical music,
and thought she wasn't any closer to finding her new man
yet.
She did, as few days later. Or at least he appeared to
be the man and was someone she already knew vaguely.
* * *
On Friday night Julie was dressed to kill, wearing a LBD
(little black dress) and seamed black sheer stockings
and shiny black high-heels. Irene her nanny said she
looked amazing, not having seen Julie dressed like that
before.
"Mom you look pretty," said Paula with Tim in typical
male style, although only five, added his eloquent
"Yeah." That pumped up Julie to feel she could gather to
her bosom any man on the planet, though of course still
realizing through the heady haze that keeping his head
there was a far greater challenge.
Julie went to the law firm where she'd soon be working,
SLBP Law. Laura Coombs, HR (human resources) manager,
was waiting in the reception area to accompany her to
the Dino's Bar.
"Oh my," Laura smiled. "I've already indicated with a
little touch of jest that SLBP law will never be the
same with you on-board; now I'm now longer joking. You
are in danger of making enemies with some of our females
at the bar this evening. Want to go home and dress
down?"
"Love your humour, Laura. You and I have a lot in
common."
"I'm not a lesbian," Laura giggled.
"Oh very droll," laughed Julie as she skipped in beside
the fast-walking shorter woman who looked immaculate in
a plain grey business suit with a low-cut maroon shirt.
Her frontal white-streaked raven hair was in a pony-
tail.
As they neared the dark glass self-opening doors to exit
the building, Laura stopped abruptly, oblivious to the
fast-reaction of her companion who was able to stop
within half a pace of collusion.
Laura was staring into the reflective glass.
"Just how tall are you?"
"Almost six-two. I always ate my cereal as a child."
"Rarely when in the company of other women I'm made to
feel five-ten short."
"Give up, Laura, you're beautifully proportioned and
that's what it's about, isn't it? How tall is your
husband?"
"Robert is just touching six feet."
"There you go, what a perfectly matched couple."
"You're very likeable, Julie. This is confidential but
when we were waiting for you to arrive for lunch the
other day Al Ludwig described you as, and I quote, 'A
hard-nosed bitch who won't back down and possesses a
mind like a rapier and those are brilliant
specifications for a female investigator who is also
tall and very attractive. The bastards she deals with
won't know what's hit them'. That was Al verbatim."
"Al is such a charmer," Julie said as they walked into
the nearby bar.
"I tell you what, Julie." Laura confessed. "He had me
waiting for you rather nervously. It was only when I saw
your smile and was swept by your heavenly perfume that I
relaxed."
"Are you sure you're not a lesbian?"
They laughed and Laura slipped her arm into the crook of
Julie's, filling the widow with warmth, having made her
first new friend in the city since Ted's death,
reversing to a tiny extent the ghosting away of so-
called 'friends'.
She was happy. She'd known of course that she could
reverse the shrinkage with a little bit of determined
effort. In all probability she'd had become friendly
with Laura irrespectively because Al was Laura's father-
in-law and Al had morally taken a token role of father-
protector of Julie because he'd so-much admired Ted.
Working to establish rapport had sped up bringing Laura
and Julie together much sooner, once again confirming to
Julie that effort usually is rewarded. She'd always have
special regard for Laura, who'd teamed up so quickly and
so unconditionally, ignoring the fact that she was a
high-powered executive in the firm whereas Julie was a
new recruit, just a digit in a workforce of almost 150.
The bar was designed to attracted professional people
with quality fittings subdued décor, lots of sold dark
wood, glass galore and behind the bar expensive bottles
of liquor lining backlit shelves that despite a
haphazard arrangement almost qualified as a worthy piece
of art.
Julie had a particular affinity for bars, although not
knowing why. It wasn't because of the liquor as she
rarely drank herself stupid away from home, a protective
measure. Perhaps it was the way when bars were packed
people and having to shout above the general hubbub made
one feel like being on a good high with pumped up
endorphins. The desire to hear and to be heard also
encouraged focus and the crush brought people closer,
whether desirable or not, but in such hub-bub that
really mattered not.
Yes she really liked bars as a social pit, thought
Julie, surprised at her choice of the word pit. Hmmm.
Julie chose a dry martini while Laura decided on white
rum, dash of lime and bitters topped with dry Vermouth.
"What's that called?"
"Dunno," shouted Laura above the din. "It may taste like
horse piss but I often try my own mixes hoping one day
I'll invent the perfect elixir for me."
"You're my kind of person, an adventurer. Do you have
children?"
Laura held up two fingers and pushed her hands together,
indicating small.
Julie wondered what trouble she went through trying to
get a desirable nanny.
"I have Olga as my nanny; we imported her from Europe,"
shouted Laura as if demonstrating the ability to read
minds.. "Anna's a divorcee unable to have children but
adores ours."
"Way to go," shouted Julie, following Laura pushing
through to the far corner where it was quieter and the
large space was nonchalantly defended by personnel from
SLBP Law.
The introductions were made as they went around the
group, Laura ripping off the twenty-two names as if they
were her own children. She was very good. Julie heard
herself being titled at 'our new super investigator'.
Where that title had come from she had no idea because
her official designation was assistant examination
officer.
Julie noticed and mentally recorded the fact for her
writing journal that the females smiled and said hi
when introduced then turned passive as they ran their
eyes over her hair, face and breasts. Two of them
actually looked back at her in what only could be
described as admiration, both being a little plump and
unattractively dressed.
The men mostly acted like men: they smiled and said
something like 'Nice meeting you' then looked away
almost as if she were an unwelcome intruder. But as
Laura launched into the next introduction Julie, who has
good peripheral vision, could see the men just
introduced jostling for a better position to check out
her ass and legs. It made her feel quite at home and was
her brief moment of being a minor centre of attention;
she appreciated her ego being stroked.
Laura was introducing her to a broad shouldered man with
curled blond hair and dressing immaculately in a white
suit. He looked gorgeous.
"Bruce is a specialist in immigration law," Julie heard
Laura say. Julie's head was ringing: Bruce was the one!
She wanted to scream to him, 'Are you married?' But that
was not couth. Laura peeled off to the left to talk to a
heavy jowl red wine drinker of obvious importance.
Omigod, Bruce was talking to her. Julie said, "Didn't
quite hear that."
Bruce leaned right into her.
"You are very attractive."
"Thank you, you're not too bad yourself."
Well, if that wasn't a mating call from both of them,
what was it?
"I require investigations from time to time. Perhaps you
will be assigned to my cases?"
"I'll try to make that happen," said Julie, moving in so
he could hear, aware that her left breast was pressing
against his arm holding his white wine.
Bruce was called to rejoin the two men he'd be chatting
with when the introduction interrupted their
conversation, so she turned and found Meg
and...um...Elizabeth she'd met a few minutes ago staring
at her. They seemed to be close friends so she went
over.
"Are you gay?" asked Meg.
"More happy I should think," replied Julie and that
ended that conversation.
An hour later Julie saw Bruce leave the bar, heading to
the restrooms. She shoved her way through the mass and
followed him, worried that he'd be in the men's room
before she could catch him. But he was just outside the
door, in a deep embrace with a shorter darkish man.
He looked at Julie unembarrassed and she murmured "Hi
Bruce" and rushed to the women's room in a complete
state of fuming agitation. How could such a thing happen
to her? He seemed so perfect; it was such a crying
shame. So she cried.
By the time Julie returned to the bar the crowd was
thinning out. Obviously responsible people who were not
gay and had a home life with an adult who loved then
were homeward bound, she sighed, a little bitterly.
"Hi, Julie. How's it going?"
"Fine, having a lovely time thanks Laura."
"The revolutionary gang was not at it tonight, the bar's
illegally crowded. It's the 50th year in business for
Strangleton Bros, a large financial company and the
venue for the company dinner that's being held is near
here. Some of them have piled in here for a warm up."
"I'm pleased that it's usually not this crowded. What
are you drinking?"
"Chartreuse and liquorice liquor topped with tonic.
Here, have a try."
Julie managed to get some down.
"What do you think?"
"Goat's dung?"
Laura was laughing so much she dropped the glass, which
luckily cracked but did not shatter.
"That's the right place for it," she said, bending down
to pick up the glass but Julie was already straightening
up with it.
"Thank you," Laura said. "You're a fast mover. Move on
anyone tonight?"
Laura of course knew she was on her own romantically.
Before Julie could bleat her disappointment someone
brushed past her and embraced Laura as if he was ready
for bed.
"Hi darling, Hmmm," went Laura kissing a man as if she
loved him. It must be the husband.
"Julie, this is my old man Robert."
"Hi Julie. Laura told me you were a stunner."
"Thanks Robert," said Laura, but not showing
embarrassment.
"Julie," said Robert, ignoring his wife's gentle rebuke
for passing on intimate comments. "This is my favourite
client who's also my best friend since high school days
Dillon Jackson. Dillon, this is Julie Giles who joins
our firm on Monday as an assistant examinations officer
also known as a super sleuth. The boss thinks she has
the potential to be Chief Ironside."
"Why hi, Julie," said Mr Black Hair Smoothie. Julie,
still smarting over her tragic loss of Bruce, smiled at
the near stranger who had once walked her and Rufus, and
said "Nice to meet you Dillon Jackson." She wondered if
he were gay and that thought kept her from announcing
she and Dillon already knew one another and wasn't it a
small world.
"Right we better go guys," Robert said. "It's Friday so
we don't want to lose our table. Dillon is taking us to
dinner and would you like to join us? Dillon can afford
to feed and extra mouth."
"No thanks and that's a very nice offer Robert and I
guess Dillon. Some other time perhaps?"
"Very well, come on guys."
"I'd love you to accompany us," Dillon said, oozing
charm.
"Why won't you come?" asked Laura.
Julie moved closer to her and said quietly, "I saw Bruce
kissing another guy near the restrooms."
"Oh god," she whispered. "You fancied him but didn't
know his preference. Oh Julie!"
"It's okay, just a shock really. I hadn't really said
much to him. I should have known when he didn't run the
undressing eyes over me like most of the other guys
did."
"Yes it's such a waste really but then we do have quite
a large number of clients who are gay so it all works
out."
"Go Laura. The men are waiting for you."
Laura and Julie kissed, on the lips, gently – barely a
touch.
"Get over it quickly darling but don't try to drink it
out of your system."
Julie watched them stand on the sidewalk, Laura
gesticulating and looking back into the bar. Julie
turned away and waited to be served a new drink.
Suddenly Laura was beside her again.
"You're coming with us young lady. Robert sent me in to
get you and Dillon says he'll not eat unless you come."
"But...but..."
"You're coming with us, Julie, even if I have to carry
you out. I'm very strong."
"Very well I agree if only to keep the peace."
CHAPTER 6
Recently widowed Julie Giles, interested in returning to
having romantic contact with a male again, said softly
"Kiss me if you wish Dillon, if thinking about it is
making you nervous."Dillo
They were sitting on bench on the river bank not far
from the restaurant. Laura and Robert had headed off
home.
Dillon leaned over Julie and pecked at her lips briefly,
then lifted back a little and said that was lovely.
"Call that a kiss?" Julie asked hungrily. "This is a
kiss."
With passionate finesse she pressed Dillon against the
back of the seat and planting her breasts against his
chest, covered his mouth with her partly open mouth and
kissed him long and tenderly, while holding one hand
behind his head while the other hand rolled delicately
around his ear.
"That was a magnificent kiss," he grinned when they
broke away for air. "I hope the supply is
inexhaustible."
"Whether you get any more depends on the way in which
you answer two questions, Dillon, and please answer
truthfully.
"Okay."
"Question One: Are you married?"
"Divorced eighteen months ago; we failed to discern we
were very unsuited in so many ways and it became tough
going."
"I'm sorry it didn't work out. Question Two: Does it
worry you that I'm in the market for a husband and
father of two young children but I assure you I don't
have my sights on anyone at the moment?"
"Not at all; that is entirely your business."
"Well answered, Dillon. "I have a huge number of kisses
bottled up and you may help yourself."
"Are there limits on how many I can take?"
"No but quit horsing around Dillon. Kiss me."
Over the next hour Dillon managed to free both breasts
and rub his fingers over Julie's panties. All she would
do was to slide a hand through his shirt and play with
his nipples.
"Come back to my apartment," he said thickly.
"I would rather not but thank you for the invitation' I
have to say I'm struggling with my refusal."
"Then why refuse?"
"A widowed woman is totally vulnerable to the quick-dip-
and-goodbye encounters. Many males, I should think,
wouldn't consider doing that on the first date with a
childless unmarried woman. So I wish to avoid that
happening so callously to me."
"So you want to save yourself for a potential husband
who doesn't take you on the first date?"
"It's a little like that. However, as I love to hump I'm
not prepared to wait forever for a new permanent partner
who might never appear."
Dillon looked thoughtful. "So, you remove yourself from
one-night stands but will eventually make yourself
available to someone you like who is prepared to stick
around for a while?"
"I knew there was more to you that just a reasonably
handsome face buddy."
"Reasonably?"
"I'm not the kind of girl who lies to a guy."
He smiled and said, "You are very interesting. Not quite
like any other woman I've met. I haven't got you figured
out, despite Laura whispering to me that you write porn
novels."
"And that's what attracted you to me, I'm sure."
Dillon sealed her lips with his, and she allowed her
lips to part. Their tongues touched briefly.
"I'm not the kind of guy who lies to a girl. I got
aroused just thinking about those long white fingers of
yours poised over the keypad of your computer, dripping
with lust as you began writing the next passionate
moves."
Julie laughed at the moon, saying her fingers were
unable to drip with lust.
"They do in my mind. It seems reasonable that if one
thinks of authors of horror stories having fingers
dripping with blood, surely one would also imagine
authors who write porn having fingers dripping with lust
or something more pragmatic."
"I don't write porn Dillon, and rarely read it. I write
adult stories and novels. There is a different between
adult and porn categories."
"As well I know and I'm only a tad disappointed to hear
that."
"Why's that?"
"I'd rather like the private and wicked thought of
dating a porn writer."
"Does that mean we're going to date?
"We're going to date."
"Just so that you can take me to bed?"
"Yes."
"That's good and I'll await that approach."
* * *
Julie was nervous going into the restaurant where she
was hosting her brother-in-law Gary Giles and Paul
Wiseman, the publisher's agent who'd represented her in
the days she wrote children's book. They were at the bar
and Gary nodded at the bartender, presumably already
having pre-ordered a dry martini. This was Gary?
It was, the new Gary. He bounced over to Julie, kissed
her on the cheek and said to Paul, "Paul this is my
fabulous sister-in-law."
They laughed because all three had worked as a team
previously.
Paul pecked her cheek.
Julie murmured, "Don't be wimpy, Paul kiss both cheeks
the French way and be enthusiastic."
"I would be delighted," Paul said, moving in on both
cheeks as if he meant it.
The ice was broken, well broken.
At the table Julie handed across two packs on to which
was taped her new personal card. Inside was the synopsis
of the autobiography and the first three draft chapters
plus her CV.
"I'll give you guys ten minutes to read the synopsis
while I go over and watch the ducks," said Julie,
walking off to the floor to ceiling windows overlooking
a duck pond.
She was finishing her second martini, brought to her by
a handsomely dark bartender, probably West Indian, when
Gary called. She'd known if she was called back within
five minutes the book was potentially a failure; instead
they'd taken almost fifteen minutes. The fact that both
men had been seduced into reading the three draft
chapters was very much in her favour.
"Well?"
Gary said it would be easy to illustrate a cover.
"I have heaps of ideas although I think the scene of the
woman on the cliff-top has to be it, hair flying in the
wind, arms outstretched to the sky, head thrown back."
"We do think alike, don't we Gary!"
He smiled, the smile of a man at peace with himself um
at last.
"It's a women's book," said Paul, "with potential to be
create a stampede to bookshops for readers of this
genre."
"Careful Paul," drawled Julie. "That's a little over the
top for you."
"Believe me, Julie; we could go to auction over this
submission. I'll seek opinions."
Julie went home in deep thought, mentally advancing her
story, getting the sequences to her liking, ready to
start writing. She never planned on paper – perhaps she
should and become a better writer. But no, her way was
to write spontaneously, as driven. If agents, publishers
or readers didn't like that, too bad.
She'd left her phone at home, wanting to be out of reach
while shopping and then going to her business lunch.
Shopping had meant going to the supermarket and then
buying a lovely little blue town car, German, and
reputedly the safest mass produced small car on the road
– a claim she didn't investigate but had read it in a
women's magazine and knew that if the claim was
incorrect, those originating the claim would be
criminally liable in her country.
The car was being fitted with semi-permanent child
restraints, which ought to guarantee they would be used.
The car was to be delivered by 8 o'clock next morning,
in time for Irene to drive to university, dropping the
children off at school on the way. Julie slammed her
hand to her forehead: "Oh damn, I hope she holds a
licence to drive!"
That oversight shook her. How on earth was she going to
effectively perform as a technical sleuth for a law firm
if she was going to blunder about like that?
Ooops, another potential blunder. She's phoned for
temporary insurance cover on the pre-owned vehicle and
had forty-eight hours to present it for inspection and
have details recorded in full. She'd need to take Irene
with her and get Irene listed as a named driver as the
car was virtually hers; but until now Julie had
forgotten to make that mental note.
Arriving home Julie put away the groceries, made coffee
and checked her cell phone and found three messages to
call, all from Dillon. She smiled and said, "Down boy."
She phoned, having no idea where he worked or in what
sector.
"Acer Publishing Corporation."
Julie gasped.
"Mr Dillon Jackson please."
"Just a moment ma'am."
How can you tell that, young lady? My voice is young
enough to be a miss, surely?
"Good afternoon; Mr Jackson's suite."
Oooh, have our own suite, do we? So obviously you are
not a flunky.
"Mr Jackson please."
"May I have the nature of your business, miss?"
How can we tell I'm not madam, you nosey parker.
"Just tell him it's his new girlfriend calling."
"Miss, I don't know what you are getting at but I'm sure
Mr Jackson has not taken on such a responsibility."
Oooh that was put delicately.
"Just tell him that it's his new girlfriend calling and
my name is Julie."
"Julie what please?"
"He knows the name of his new girlfriend."
"This is highly irregular, but you sound very nice; I
shall try to connect you."
So, I sound nice on the phone do I?
"Julie!"
"Dillon!"
"You're an artful hussy getting through the filtering
screen like that. I said to Marion what's the nature of
the caller's business and she said she didn't say, so I
said why am I being asked to talk to her? Marion stalled
and so I suspected it must be you calling. I don't have
many awkward people calling me. Marion choked and said,
'She says she's your new girlfriend'."
"Oh, I said to Marion. It must be that short-assed bitch
that's trying to pin me for child support for eight
children she alleges are mine."
"Marion said how awful and asked should she call
security?"
"I said, what for Marion, so they can seize your phone
for evidence and apprehend her? You best put her
through. Are you listening Marion?"
"Yes Mr Jackson."
"That will be all, Marion."
Julie and Dillon heard the phone click as Marion cut her
connection.
"She listens in and begins taping if I cough."
"Threats?"
"Yes, mainly from disappointed authors."
"Oh."
"What?"
"I could be one of those."
Dillon grunted. "I work in non-fiction and anyway our
corporation doesn't publish porn."
"My current project is non-fiction."
There was a pause as Dillon took that in and asked had
she found a publisher?
"Not yet, but it's in the hands of my agent."
"Who's he?"
Julie told him. Dillon said they occasionally had taken
submissions from Paul. Julie would be well-served as he
was an excellent intermediary.
"Why didn't you tell me you are writing non-fiction?"
"You didn't ask and anyway I wasn't aware until I phoned
your office that you were in publishing and now that I
know I wouldn't let my manuscript come near you because
that's mixing pleasure with business."
"I think you mean business with pleasure."
"No emphasis should go on to the more important of the
two elements."
"You find me pleasurable?"
"Very. Exactly what do you do?"
"I'm vice-president of non-fiction publishing and
director of all publicity and promotion."
"A big shot?"
"As I'm next in line to the company president, I'll
admit to that."
"Good for you. Why were you calling me, three times in
fact? Are your randy?"
"Now that you mention it..."
Julie screamed with laughter and Dillon joined in.
"I was phoning to set up a date ever night until I get
to have you."
"Oh yes, and then what?"
"A date every night and every lunch time."
There was a pause and Julie was breathing heavily.
"Guess who's feeling randy now?" Julie sighed. "About
tonight, I can meet you at Tiffany's Bar at seven if
that is suitable. I must warn you though that two other
males are hovering."
"You mean sniffing around?"
"They are gentlemen Dillon and therefore the word
hovering is appropriate."
"Well I have been warned. I'll be at Tiffany's around
7:00. Please make it easier for me – don't wear
panties."
"Goodbye Dillon," she giggled.
Julie spent the rest of the afternoon on her draft,
writing in earnest now that the ball was rolling. She
was telling it how it was, warts and all, but
embellishing the pale bits and drawing out characters,
giving them more memorable personalities – though not
without flaws – and everyone in the book seemed to be
better dressed and taking better care of their bodies
than in reality.
She'd already been to see a pathologist who read reports
on the deaths of the two men at the tunnel portal, and
then explained hypothetically to Julie of what would
probably had occurred to the occupants of a similar
vehicle in a similar situation.
"I've had two whiskies before coming in to talk to you
and I'm inherently brave. Just give it to me warts and
all," she said, turning on her recorder. The pathologist
obliged, narrating as if telling a story to children,
but nobody would really tell such a gruesome story to
children. He kept checking on Julie's facial colour and
expression but she was fine, being very professional and
revealing nothing to indicate she was struggling to
cope.
Julie cried inside.
Although this was a hypothetical scenario, she knew it
was how Ted and SLBP Law's chairman had died. 'Squashed
like a swatted flies' was how she'd probably describe
the graphic instant deaths, terror on their faces only
just beginning to show as it happened so suddenly and it
was over so quickly.
Such an interpretation of hers would be little more than
speculation based on certain facts, but it was stated in
one report: 'The moment between awareness of imminent
danger and death would have been exceedingly small
because in all probability the two occupants of the car
remained unaware they were victims of a fatal mishap
until their vehicle was actually clipped by the trailer
loaded with a very heavy shipping container'.
Thanking the pathologist who was aware he was talking to
an author, Julie then whispered that she knew that
because of internal policy he was unable to accept
payment for giving information. She was aware also that
the area was under surveillance of security cameras and
so would leave her token of appreciation, a bottle of
premium Scottish whisky underneath the wall-mounted
security camera just outside the door to his office.
The pathologist smiled and nodded a thank you and Julie
whispered that his department would be rewarded in due
course.
She drove home smiling. Authors-cum-journalists had to
do some uncomfortable things at times to ensure
authenticity, and this had been one of them. She was
happy that death had been virtually instantaneous for
Ted but it would be hard writing about the effects of
the terrible chest injuries he'd suffered inflicting
multiple causes of death.
Purely by chance his head had not been crushed, as his
companion's was, which had allowed Julie to view his
face for the final time in the mortuary. Until now she
hadn't realized she had been that lucky, if one could
call that luck. But she knew sublimely had she been
unable to see his face for the final time that would
have devastated her.
Julie had hurried home and wrote this particular section
out of sequence as she had no wish to carry it around in
her head any longer than necessary. She typed the seven
pages at maximum speed; then she proofed that draft, and
then played the tape over twice, made the necessary
adjustments and then it was finished. She would
subsequently re-read those pages of course for final
proofing, but hoped that could be carried out as
dispassionately as all other pages.
As soon as Julie acknowledged she'd finished that
section, she saved it, shut down her laptop and racing
outside and plunged into the pool fully dressed but this
time, fortunately, wearing a watch 'water resistant to
100 feet'.
At the far end she shed her clothes, tossing them on to
the pool surround to avoid choking the leaf skimmer and
swam until near exhaustion. She then felt clean.
It was not researching Ted's death that had made her
feel 'dirty'; what had made her feel uncomfortable was
her need to describe it in such lucid and lurid detail.
Then why do it? Because she had to, Julie thought as she
regained her breath in the pool and felt strength
flowing back into her limbs. She would have written to
that standard in a fictional account of a pivotal tragic
death; no way would she lower standards in a non-fiction
account. The only thing clouding her mind in this
instance was the tragic death was so deeply personal.
Feeling refreshed and indeed feeling 'free' in herself,
she returned to the laptop and re-wrote the piece of the
farewells when she'd left the resort. It had been so
lovely of Sandy and family going over to the mainland
and waiting those seventy minutes with her until she had
to board her flight. She'd now captured the emotions in
much sharper detail. It had been too emotionally
cluttered previously.
Picturing the face of Sandy made Julie's eyes mist. So
she scratched around and found Sandy's cell phone
number.
"Hi what are you doing?"
"Julie!" Sandy shrieked. "It's lovely to hear your
voice. I'm sitting here bored, doing my hostess thing
from time to time, hoping another 'you' will arrive
today, but they never do."
Julie told her about the book and Sandy was greatly
interested.
"Since you're that interested I'll read you three pages
relating to the end of a memorable vacation."
Julie read the extract, and when she reached the part
about flying back for a last hug and kiss with Sandy her
voice shook and by the time she'd finished reading she
was weeping as was Sandy.
"We're fools acting like this," sniffed Julie.
"Yes and isn't it lovely," sniffed Sandy.
"Why don't you and Mark come down and stay with us and
make that soon. You told me you're supposed to take
every fourth weekend off but rarely do. Come down and
stay for as long as you wish. You'll probably sleep at
mom's as she's set up for guests but we have the pool."
"We'd love to do that. I'll get Mark to commit and will
email you."
"Make it soon, Sandy because I'm longing for Paula and
Tim and my parents to meet you."
"Me too. Now, is there anyone yet?"
"I think so, but it's early days – both of us are
circling each other like two nervous teenagers."
"So you haven't...um?"
"Gone to bed with him?"
A somewhat embarrassed giggle came to Julie's ear and
she continued: "I'm not going to allow that to happen
until he's seen the children. After I've heard what they
think I'll make my decision."
"Are you sure he's that patient. When is he likely to
see the children?"
"I have no idea, not until he asks."
"Darling, these days men are not likely to wait that
long for what they really want."
"The man that I will marry will have that control; he'd
want to be with me so much that he'll be prepared to
wait forever if that's what it takes."
"Darling don't take this the wrong way but this is not
romantic novels we're talking about, this is real life
and you can't manipulate real-life characters as you may
well do when writing."
"I hear you, but this is how it has to be. I'm the one
looking for the partner and I'm setting the ground
rules. I usually get what I want."
"I think I better come straight away, even if Mark feels
he can't get away. It sounds like you need support."
Julie laughed and told Sandy not to panic. She was fine
and was starting a new job in a few days. She gave Sandy
the details.
"Isn't that the same law firm in which your late husband
was a senior partner?"
"It is."
There was a pause, and then Sandy continued: "Don't you
think that's a little unusual?"
"Perhaps, you know I'm a little wacky and besides Ted's
not working there any longer. Your reaction alerts me to
another possible controversy. I'm beginning to think I'm
going to get a flogging over this book."
"Then don't write it."
"That doesn't sound like you Sandy."
"I know but you're making me nervous."
Julie laughed and told her to relax. She said she was on
a roll and loving every minute of it. Her spirit had
been restored.
"And don't think no-one will want to publish the book
Sandy. The moment someone on TV calls me a heartless
bitch and I let fly, the book will become an instant
best-seller."
"TV what's this about TV?" Sandy asked, puzzled.
"I'll tell you about it when we stretched out beside the
pool here watching the sunset and slowly getting drunk.
And if mom and dad are not here I'll tell you about
being a naughty girl and getting drunk here all by
myself shortly after Ted's death when I really didn't
know who I was any more. That poor pathetic woman has
gone from me, Sandy as well you know. You helped put the
revitalized me back into my body."
"Oh, what have I done," laughed Sandy but making no
apology.
Julie stretched after putting the phone down. About the
only new thing in life she wanted right now was a
certain man to say, "I'd like to meet your children."
* * *
Julie's second date with publishing senior executive
Dillon Jackson was planned to let him get worked up
having kisses and an active cuddle and she'd let him
feel her hand on him.
Only it didn't work out perfectly.
On a scale of 0 to 10 (the best), Julie rated that first
date as seven, and the second would only score three -
later being upgraded to five. Julie couldn't recall any
occasion, even from her distant past, where she would
have rated a date as low as a three. Two was a disaster
whereas zero would have meant one had to be
hospitalized.
Date Two began magnificently. They met at the bar,
Dillon wearing a cream suit, brown shoes and an
iridescent open-necked shirt.
"You look so...so elegant," Julie said. She was wearing
a very short white lace dress, with a central plunging
neckline that somehow was not at all that revealing, and
low cork sandals with multi-colour crossed straps.
"Madam looks beautiful and smells beautiful," said
Dillon, plunging his head into her neck when the met and
sniffed excessively.
"Great perfume but (digging something from his pocket)
you must try this, though not tonight of course."
Excited, Julie opened the package and flung her arms
round Dillon's neck and kissed him. It was Pure Poison
by Christian Dior which she'd never sampled.
They had a drink then walked upstairs to a Thai
restaurant where they ate great food at great value.
As they were leaving, Dillon asked was Julie wearing
panties. He said her blush had answered the question. It
surprised Julie that she still could blush.
On the riverside bench-seat Dillon eventually found his
assumption relating to the blush was correct and another
conclusion reached; the thighs had parted a little wider
on this occasion. That rather excited him, so he
burrowed and that rather excited Julie and eventually
she was left panting, such was her building arousal.
In the meantime, Julie had his nipples up like bullets
and had been nibbling his ear. She began tracing the
outline of his prominence through his trousers. He
stretched and closing his eyes muttered, "Pull the zip,
pull the zip."
Dillon had one of her breasts freed when he felt the zip
go down. He was aware he was heated up, which was
unusual; he usually only got like that when really
getting into it fully.
Dillon gasped in alarm, open his mouth to speak, just as
Julie's fingers touched him.
She lifted in alarm, not expecting such an early result
and Dillon heaved again.
"Oh, I'm sorry!" called the greatly embarrassed Dillon.
"Hullo, what's going on here?"
In real alarm, Dillon looked into the strong flashlight
beam and saw the outlines of a policeman and
policewoman.
"We've had a slight accident, ma'am," said Julie, busy
with Dillon's handkerchief.
"It's a citable offence to be exposed in a public place
in this city," the policewoman said. "Fortunately for
you two it's dark and I can't quite see you. Please
ensure you remain covered up. Good evening."
"Good evening," replied Julie, digging her speechless
companion in the ribs.
"Good evening officers," Dillon said.
"We're a menace to the community," giggled Julie,
whispering.
"Julie don't be so irresponsible. We could have been
hauled before a judge."
"I don't believe it's a hanging offence."
That made Dillon laugh. "You are a menace to society."
"What red-blooded girl would have turned down an
opportunity like this after dinner?" she asked, making
Dillon roll his eyes.
"Next time could we go somewhere away from the police?"
"Look," he said. "Dad and mom are away this weekend. I
can get their boat. Want to cruise down river and out to
sea on Sunday?"
"Yes, that would be lovely."
"And bring the children if you must."
"Ah...er..."
"Ah...er...what?"
"It wasn't supposed to be like that."
"Like what?"
"Oh never mind."
"Come on Julie, I'm not a child."
"But I am it seems," she said, beginning to cry.
Dillon said oh dear and took her into his arms. He asked
her to explain what was wrong, and Julie told him that
he'd been on probation, that once he'd asked to see the
children and they indicated they liked him Dillon would
be welcome to have sex with her.
"I don't understand the problem," he said. "I could dash
in and meet the children and then you and I could be
off.
Julie sniffed, "Almost always whenever I plan something,
it turns out how I planned it and you dashing in just to
say hi is not the introduction I had in mind."
"Okay then I'll call on you formally tomorrow evening,
say at 6:00. I want to meet, er, Tim and Lara."
"Paula."
"Tim and Paula."
"I'd very much like that Dillon. Please stay and have
dinner with us. I'll have it early so the children can
eat with us and our nanny."
"I agree; all better now?"
"Yes thank you."
Dillon cleared his throat.
"I wish to tell you that I thought when I was buying the
perfume this afternoon; it being a very long time since
I bought a gift like that for a non-relative. Julie I'm
falling in love with you."
Julie looked at him horrified.
"You can't do that, Dillon. I haven't planned for that
to happen yet."
"Stuff the master plan Julie, this is nature; we've just
has to let nature happen."
Julie looked at him mournfully.
"If you say so, Dillon," she said meekly.
"Julie, snap out of it. I don't want to be falling in
love with a wet, complacent rag doll; please get back to
being the confrontational smart-assed bitch full of life
and with a lot of loving to give who has occupied part
of my mind day and night since meeting her."
Julie sighed and stroked Dillon's face.
"All right Mr Arrogance. You know sweet all. What you've
just admitted is nothing but infatuation. And if you
think I've going to mother you and snack your ass with
hairbrush you've got another think coming."
"Hello your two, all buttoned up I hope."
"Yes officer," said Julie, shielding her eyes against
the torch.
The torchlight then centred on Dillon's face.
"Why hi Mr Jackson. Remember me Marcie Gregory? I was
deputy head of security at Acer Publishing that had the
contract for security at the company you were with and I
liaised with before I resigned to join the force."
"Er...er...why hi Marcie, of course. How are you?"
"On night shift which is a pain. But I enjoy the work.
Glad we didn't have to pull you in, you naughty boy Mr
Jackson."
"Marcie, please meet my fiancée Julie."
Julie was shocked.
"There's no need to lie Dillon. I might become your
fiancée one day, but earlier tonight that was just a
little touch of lust."
"Mr Jackson I'm ashamed for you letting a sweet young
woman like this show you up by not been afraid to tell
the truth."
"Mr Jackson I'm arresting you for interfering with a
police officer in the course of her duty… oh, come on Mr
Jackson, don't pass out on me. I was just kidding. Good
night you two, keep buttoned up in public."
"Good night officers," Julie said sweetly, turning to
attend to her stricken companion.
"Are you fit to drive home Dillon? You look rather
shaken," she said innocently. "I think we better go
across and get you a strong coffee. Here take my arm. It
hasn't been the best of nights for us, has it?"
Half an hour later they engaged in a slow parting. By
then Dillon had all but recovered although was a tad
surly. He kissed Julie soundly and said he'd tell her
and the children tomorrow evening about arrangements for
the boat cruise.
Well, all in all it was a fair evening, but it could
have gone much better, Julie thought, entering her car.
Sliding on to the seat she caught her trailing foot
under the door and the impact of the sudden stop ripped
her skirt open up from the hem of the back join; making
her curse foully.
Then, to cap off her somewhat rocky evening, minutes
later she was stopped and received a traffic ticket for
a speeding violation. Understandably she stomped into
the house and angrily rated that date as a three.
It was almost midnight when Julie's phone played 'Bye,
Bye Blackbird'. She answered in an instant as she'd been
unable to drift off to sleep thinking she could have
wormed an engagement ring out of Dillon this evening, as
he'd as good as proposed by telling the police officer
they were engaged. However, only a low-down bitch would
try that caper.
"Hi, I've got something in my hand of interest to you.
Oooh, oooh."
"Migawd Dillon. I've never participated in phone sex
before, that's if I'm invited to participate."
"I'm a phone sex virgin too."
"What do I do?"
They had a great time enjoying a really lusty phone
conversation.
"Goodnight my creative Prince."
"Goodnight, dearest Julie. I'll see you tomorrow
evening. That was unbelievably erotic."
"It was beautiful for me too; I'll upgrade tonight from
a three to a five."
"What does that mean?"
"Good night, sweet one."
CHAPTER 7
Julie returned from her morning two-mile run, showered
and just got back to her dressing table when the
children raced in just before 7:00, which was their
habit.
"There's going to be a surprise at this house this
morning."
"What is it mom?"
"I'm not telling Paula."
"Come on mom, tell us."
"I'll bite your bum if you don't tell us."
"Tim!" cried Julie in shock. "Don't say that, it's
awful."
"Leave it at that, Julie," advised Irene, sweeping in
with Julie's warmed energy drink. "There's a new boy
from England in Tim's class who's proudly venting a
whole range of naughty expressions. He'll be conforming
within a few days and everything will settle down. If
you make a fuss T-i-m will think it's clever to continue
using that expression."
"That's Tim you're talking about."
"Thank you Paula. Snuggle against mom and tell her about
school."
"You sound so wise, Irene. I mean knowing how to deal
with that incident."
"Oh it's not my thinking. It's the other mothers, we
gather in a group waiting for school to finish. They
just assume Tim and Paula are my children."
"Oooh," Julie said sadly, causing Irene to look up
sharply. She smiled.
"There is a roster at the school for mother helpers in
classrooms. I could put your name up for some afternoons
and then you could collect Tim and Paula. Other mothers
would then get to know you. Under the system of
allocation you are not necessarily placed in the
classrooms of your children."
"That's brilliant, Irene. Could you roster me for every
Tuesday afternoon for the next six weeks and get the
roster supervisor to contact me each Monday afternoon to
remind me of my commitment."
"Um it doesn't quite run like that, Julie. Schools don't
have sufficient staff/helpers to children ratios to
present that level of service. You can of course punch
in an alarm reminder of that commitment into your cell
phone."
"Yes of course, brilliant Irene. Now children: I want
you all dressed, hair done, teeth brushed and bags ready
by the front door at 8:00 and that includes you Irene.
You will see a surprise."
The excitement was intense.
"What sort of surprise mom?"
"Yes mom," wheedled Paula. "I love you, please just
whisper to me."
"What is the surprise Julie? Come on, you can't leave us
hanging like this."
Julie groaned, but loved the attention. "Oh not you too
Irene."
She managed to hold out.
The children were camped at the front door at 7:50, and
each minute asking, "What time is it?"
Julie took a call and said, "Yes, thanks for being on
time. Yes right now will be great. Please toot as you
arrive."
"Is that the man who phones you mom?"
"No but what man darling."
"You know mom," said Paula, staring steadily at Julie.
"There's a man coming to have dinner with us this
evening – oh, I forget to tell you Irene. You are
invited to join us of course, but it will be early, say
at 6:00. I want the children to be there."
"Is it what I think it is?"
"Yes Irene. And I'd like you to be there, you are
family. But if you wish I'll fix dinner for you later."
"Six is fine."
"Six is fine with me too mom. When is our surprise
coming?" asked Paula.
A strident beep sounded outside. Paula and Tim fought to
open the door and be first out. There were screams of
delight that warmed Julie to the core when Irene read
the writing on the huge ribbon tied completely round the
rear half of the car.
"It says 'Tim, Paul and Irene with love'."
"What does that mean?" Tim asked.
"It means it's our car, is that right?" Irene asked
excitedly.
"Yes it's your car everyone but Irene is boss."
"It's lovely, oh you're such a darling Julie. It's the
same model as mom's and I just love driving it."
Well she was glad she didn't panic over forgetting to
check whether Irene could drive, thought Julie. She
handed an envelope to Irene.
"We'll need to pop into the city centre this afternoon
to get you signed up for the insurance; you have
temporary cover. In the envelope is a charge card for
fuel and any maintenance/repairs. I'm paying all running
costs and the car is yours to use as you please. I've
had child restraint seats mounted semi-permanently. They
can come out with a bit of effort when you go away on
breaks or want to carry other people."
Irene stood nonplussed.
"B-b-but you are prepared to trust me with a near new
car and this charge card?"
"Yes, but why not? I trust you implicitly with my
children who are priceless in comparison with a tin car
and a piece of debiting plastic."
"Ride, ride, we want a ride," chorused the children.
"Yes," laughed Irene. "Get into your seats and we'll
deliver this smiling man back to his work place."
She returned and hugged Julie.
"You've turned me into a half-surrogate mother and given
me a home and gradually have admitted me into your
family. I am extremely gratefully for that, and now I
realized you do trust me implicitly and regard me as one
of your own. I feel so humble Julie."
"What a lovely little speech. If you give love and
respect it's usually returned Irene. You're old enough
to understand that."
"Yes, but I had some knocks when I arrived here in the
city to attend university. I'm going to phone mum when
the children get out at school. She'll be so excited as
she's been worried about me. Thanks Julie. You and the
children are going to be my guests of honour at my
graduation. I'll get my degree because my grades have
gone through the roof since I've been living here with
you."
"Oh come on, Irene be off. Any more of this and you'll
have me blubbering."
Julie spent the next three and a half hours feeling very
frustrated. She was on a high, itching to be out beside
the pool ripping into her manuscript. Yet she had to go
to the supermarket, some other shops and then, after
putting everything away, had to attend to the household
accounts, phone both the pool filter and the heating
people to point out they were behind with their
maintenance contract obligations and then take in her
own car, Ted's car actually, for servicing. She mostly
used it as a supermarket trolley, preferring to do short
trips by cab, especially if her destinations were in or
around the city centre.
She thought about getting a maid, but really what she
need was a house manager. Did such a specialist exist?
She assumed they did but what were they really called?
House manager was an appropriate title but logic often
was ignored in vocational naming.
She chuckled, recalling the fuss somewhere in the
country a few years ago when garbage collectors
generated a controversy by attempting to have themselves
called graphologists but environmental chemists and
researchers were outraged, saying the study of human
refuse had long been established and those involved
wore the professional title of graphologists. So garbage
collectors they remained.
Julie sighed, wondering why she was wasting her time on
such irrelevancy. Becoming more focused she phoned
Irene, leaving a message suggested she come home for
lunch as Julie had something to discuss.
Irene arrived twenty minutes later; Julie being amazed
that time had gone so fast; she'd not written one word
of her book and she'd not even prepared lunch.
"Sorry Irene, my best of intentions gone astray. Let's
go down to the local shopping centre."
"No you sit down here in the kitchen. Here's a glass of
wine. You talk while I'll do sandwiches. I'm just so
happy with the car. It's wonderful Julie."
First Julie told Irene how she needed to devote big time
to her book. Then she related her time wasting morning
and how she'd thought of getting a maid. But a maid did
not fit the need totally.
"Then I thought of engaging a house manager if there's
such a thing and then I thought about you?"
"Me?"
"Is there another you?"
"Silly you know that's rhetorical."
"Irene this has nothing to do with the car, I only
thought it up during my frustrations this morning, and
there's no problem if you say no."
"I'm interested to hear what you have in mind."
"Well, for the next two months minimum, would you
consider taking over running the house so I can devote
most of my time to writing my book? I will need breaks,
of course, and I would want to continue my...um."
"Yes."
"Er...dammit, my romance."
"You've got yourself a guy; then this guy coming to
dinner tonight is just not a male friend?"
"Er no."
"Oh Julie how wonderful for you. But this is getting
away from the core issue. As I see it, you want me to be
in charge as if you weren't here?"
"That's it exactly – including paying the bills, dealing
with maintenance people at times to suit you, because
some mornings or afternoons you don't have lectures so
you could possible fit that around your reading or
writing papers."
Irene said cautiously, "Yes, I could. It seems awfully
risky of you allowing me to operate your bank account?"
"Irene I..."
They completed it together: "You already trust me
implicitly with my children."
Irene said happily, "Yes, I'll do it. Shall we negotiate
money?"
"Of course, one hundred bucks a day, seven days a week,
no allowances or new fringe benefits. If you're not here
for most of any days or a succession of days you don't
draw your one hundred bucks."
"That's seven hundred a week Julie. I can't take that
sort of money."
"I was only kidding about negotiating Irene. The rate is
one hundred a day; take it or leave it."
"Oh that feels like daylight robbery Julie. I'm saying
yes but I want you to know I'm very uncomfortable about
it."
"That's great Irene, really great. You can sit on your
ass all day knitting for all I care; what I'm paying for
is peace of mind, knowing a responsible person is
managing my affairs and caring lovingly for my children.
Anyway it will be tax deductible, being a legitimate
cost against the production of my manuscript."
"Um what was that reference to draw er drawing my one
hundred bucks?"
"It's the process when you write the check at whenever
frequency you want to pay yourself."
"Pay myself? Are you losing it Julie? There must be
accountability."
"Why? I trust you and if you don't know how to draw
money to pay yourself I'll show you how."
"No I know how to do that."
"Good. I'll phone the bank to set up an account with ten
grand in it. What's wrong, you look funny? Are you going
to be sick?"
"One thousand dollars will be fine."
"No it won't, oh well then five grand, I can always top
it up. We'll both be signatories but it will be called
House Running dash Irene's Account. Now as soon as that
account gets down to one thousand, you let me know,
right?"
"Yes Julie."
"That's lovely Irene. I'll show you things you need to
know and I'll be here for back-up when needed. Any
questions dear?"
"No it's fine. It just seems so little to do for so much
money; why haven't you gotten me making the meals and
doing the laundry?"
"Because I need physical breaks away from writing. Both
children love helping me in the kitchen and Paula is
just beginning to take an interest in pottering about
with me with the laundry. I have to retain some
involvement with them."
Irene returned to university and Julie returned to her
writing, heaving a big sigh of relief. The entire
sequences of events for her manuscript were clear in her
mind and apart from the first two chapters setting the
scene, she'd started back to the beginning of her life
and of Ted's and from there it was simply a matter of
proceeding in chronological order as that, in her
opinion, was how readers wanted autobiographies to flow
and most such publications she'd read followed that
measured tread. It also meant she was able to push the
window, allowing for that finale, her second marriage.
Julie's plan was to complete the first draft in three
weeks or so, then do the revisions and have it off to
the publisher (still to be found) and by the time it was
printed and being distributed out for sale containing
the final chapter (already written and printed by then)
describing her marriage taking place. It the marriage
failed to take place she'd be in deep dung.
Dillon was a hit with the children. He arrived with a
colouring book and a monster box of 84 coloured pencils
for Tim. Typically for a man unused to children,
especially girls, he proudly handed a doll that wet her
nappies, only to be told by Paula that she already had
two dolls like that but she accepted it grudgingly
saying this one looked grumpy, which was good because
she looked 'more real'.
There was a big bouquet of flowers for Julie plus a
modest kiss, on the lips, and a smaller bouquet for
Irene plus a friendly kiss on the cheek
When Dillon was showing Tim how the side profile of the
car he was drawing needed two wheels rather than one,
Irene physically pulled Julie into the kitchen.
"He's so handsome, so eloquent, so beautifully dressed,"
she burbled. "He's so YOU!"
"Do you think so?" Julie asked, running a little frown
across her face. "If something comes of this I think we
may fight like cat and dog."
Irene's mouth fell in dismay, but rose again into a huge
smile when Julie added: "But think of the fun we'll
have, making up."
She returned to the living room to find Paula on
Dillon's knee who listened while she told him about
their new car and her teacher at school. Paula fiddled
with Dillon's shirt buttons and then lay against his
chest and she sang him a couple of theme ditties learned
off television children's programs. Julie shook her
head, smiling; her six-year-old had found herself a big
boy doll.
"Is this good?" asked Tim, showing Dillon his drawing.
"Yes much better. Is it towing a trailer?"
"No silly," shrieked Paula in laughter. "That's another
wheel. I told him all cars have five wheels and one is
stored in case of accidents."
"Is this child for real?" Dillon grinned.
"She is and I said exactly that same thing when meeting
her for the first time," Irene said.
"Julie's cooked us a beautiful dinner Dillon," Irene
said. "She's a marvellous cook and homemaker. I'll serve
in a minute."
Embarrassed by the build-up, Julie poured Dillon a glass
of wine, almost spilling it when handing it to him
because of the intensity of his gaze.
When the children had gone to bed and Irene had shut
herself away to study, Julie held out her hand and said,
"Come with me to bed Dillon."
He shook his head. "Sit down, there's something I want
to ask you."
Puzzled, she sat and looked disappointed that Mr Panting
Sexo was not chasing her into the bedroom, ripping her
clothes off as they went.
"Julie I do love you, I know I do. Please marry me
Julie."
She stared at him, her face turning white and she began
weeping.
Confused, Dillon sat beside her, taking her by the
shoulder and asking what was wrong.
"It's not supposed to happen like this Dillon. I haven't
planned for the proposal to occur until near the end and
no earlier than Chapter 22."
"My God Julie. It all makes sense now; you've cast a
fucking web to catch a man so you can complete your book
with a very romantic ending that while make your woman
readers weep with joy. Well I'm sorry Julie, as much as
I do love you I decline to be manipulated into a
marriage of convenience and then to be discarded at the
end of it by the Black Widow."
"This is crazy, absolutely unacceptable Julie, and you
should be ashamed of yourself for acting so perversely.
Goodbye, Julie."
"Goodbye Dillon," Julie said stonily, no longer weeping.
"Please see yourself out. I don't think I can walk; I'm
so shattered."
Julie worked away at her writing, surprised that despite
her fragile state, it went well. Two days had gone by
without word from Dillon. One of them had to make the
move so she phoned his office, only to be told he was in
England for nine days.
Well it was no use emailing someone who'd gone off in
that manner. She'd not find another lover for herself
and a stepfather for her children within the timeframe.
That meant coming up with another ending but she had
difficulty with that thought because the ending she'd
had was so perfect, so appropriate. Alternatively she
could abandoned the project and go to Alaska; she'd long
wanted to go on a cruise up the coast of Alaska.
It was Saturday night. Julie phoned Laura Coombes who
said she'd be happy to go out for a drink as Robert was
glued to boring football. They had a most wonderful
evening talking about their loves and aspirations and
both had much to share, over fine wine. Julie spoke as
if Dillon who was in England was still her current love.
Early the following week, Julie's agent Paul Wiseman
called to report progress. He'd received promising
feedback on presentations of the synopsis and three
sample chapters. His uncertainty over an auction to
bring out the highest bidder was resolved because three
reliable contacts he'd approached agreed an auction was
probably unnecessary as this particular book should be
snapped up by a specialist in autobiographies.
"I have three very interested publishers but I'm
thinking off-shore. I'm going to England at the end of
the week so shall hawk you around there."
"You mean my book proposal, rather than me, don't you,"
Julie giggled.
"Yeah," he laughed and then turned serious. "Look, I'm
traveling alone and it's only for seven days. Would you
like to accompany me?"
"Oooh that's very tempting Paul," Julie said easily,
"But alas it's full on for me here because I'm adhering
to that schedule I gave you and I'm about to start
working for a law firm. Besides, being in England would
be too distracting as I've not been there before."
"Right, the book is everything. I understand."
Julie said carefully, "Did you approach Acer
Publishing?"
"Yes, why do you ask?"
"Er, I was told they are strong on non-fiction."
"That's very true. The funny thing is Les Abbott was
really turned on hot about our proposals and then phoned
abruptly to say they were no longer interested."
"Really, did he say why?"
"No except the instruction came from upstairs."
"Thanks Paul. Keep in touch. I've actually taken eleven
chapters through to third proof stage, ready for final
editing via the publisher. But I prefer not letting them
out unless your find a publisher who's offering the
right sort of money but wants to see more."
"That's excellent honey. Bye."
Dillon the bastard – he'd stopped the appraisal on her
book stone dead, thought Julie. Well, actually that was
a relief because it meant she could have had the risk of
running into him had his firm been the publisher!
Paul had said the book meant everything. Well, did it?
Not more than the children, Julie decided instantly. Did
it mean more than life without Dillon? An instant answer
failed to fill her head and she became increasingly
nervous about answering that poser.
At that point she had the rogue surge of blood to the
head and recklessly dived into the pool, luckily she was
wearing her bikini on this occasion. She swam until
fatigued and in the process drowned one of her good
dress watches.
Julie leaned forward in the chair drying her hair,
feeling more like her old self, her fighting self.
Picking up the phone she called Dillon, expecting no
answer because of the time difference, and was correct.
She left a simple message and knew his phone would have
recorded who the caller was if for some reason he failed
to recognize her voice when she left the message, 'Phone
me you runaway lover'.
She didn't bother to reconsider whether to send that
message; she'd already done that in the pool, several
times.
Julie was in a bar by herself when Dillon called.
"I was a twerp running out on you, I'm sorry."
"Twerp? Hmmmm. Join the club. I'm sorry."
"How are the children?"
"Great, and their mother has just come right today. I
don't wish to upset you Dillon but I must say it: I love
you. I can't help myself; I really love you."
"That's lovely Julie. I'm having a miserable time here."
"Why?"
"That's because you're not here with me. I love you too.
Running away as you call my business trip has not
changed the way I feel about you."
"Oh, Dillon I swam myself legless in the pool today and
came to a decision about this wretched book. I'm going
to dump it."
"No Julie you must continue with your manuscript."
"But..."
"Julie your writing is you or rather this book is. I
want you to finish it. Our company had a chance of
buying it, and I knocked that on the head. I have
received a message that your agent wants to talk to me
about reconsidering my decision. I reconsidered two
hours ago without talking to him and told my folk to
recommence their assessment."
"That was cruel of you Dillon but fortunately you've now
redeemed yourself."
"Is that all you can say."
"It tells me that you love me."
"That's better. Then are you ready for some sweet talk?"
"Yes and so shoot!"
"I know there's more to love than sex; at least I
believe that's how it works out."
Julie giggled and said she often got confused over that
herself.
"You laughed, that's better."
"I giggled."
"That's even better. A laugh comes out perhaps a little
engineered, and that's fine, but a giggle just comes
out. A learned woman has asked why is it that men always
say men laugh and yet insist that women giggle and the
use the term giggle in a derogatory sense. I never read
the answer."
"Perhaps she makes a point Dillon. But I don't really
care. I giggle, especially when chatting cattily or
dirty with other women. You're right, laughing is at
little bit more restrained, it's like giggling in teeth
braces."
"That's an excellent distinction Julie. Look I must
dash. I suggest you meet me at the airport Thursday
night. My arrival time is scheduled for 9.35. I'll phone
text you flight details."
"I'll be there darling."
"Work to finish that book Julie. Bye darling."
CHAPTER 8
Julie looked up her house manager's lecture schedule and
phoned Irene between lectures.
"Hi Dillon has phoned and we've made up."
"That's fine; I'm so pleased. I'll be leaving to
collect the children in half an hour."
"Thanks pet. I'm heading home now. I started to drown my
sorrow in alcohol but then decided to have only had one
glass; I though drinking ain't the way to go Julie. He
finally phoned and I was so glad I was sober. I love him
and he reaffirmed he loves me. It's been rather sudden
but now we know we need one another. Isn't it great how
love happens? You'll find out about that soon Irene."
"If you say it will happen for me, I know it will Julie.
Thanks for saying that."
Terminating the call Julie wondered if she'd ever tell
Dillon the alternative plan she'd thought out in the
pool, which was to go to his secretary and with every
means at her disposal extract which hotel Dillon was
staying in London and the room number. She would then
board the first available flight and corner him.
They had a wonderful reunion at the airport, followed by
early dinner at her place then went to his place for the
night.
After they played with Rufus and then put him to bed,
they kissed and kissed and then Julie said she was going
to shower. He said he didn't mind her natural
fragrances; she hoped to remember that quote for her
writer's journal. But she was firm about showering until
they'd spent a little more time together to become more
familiar with each other.
"You smell fine, really."
Nevertheless she showered.
Dillon unpacked and while Julie was brushing her hair he
showered quickly. He found her spread-eagled on the bed
naked and that made him hesitate, not knowing what part
to attack first. He decided on a sixty-nine and judged
by her enthusiasm that was a good choice. But before
engaging in the heavy bits they engaged in more kissing
and sweet-talk, agreeing it was so wonderful they'd come
together.
After they'd both come to release with their patiently
worked sixty-nine she asked, looking at him steadily
with huge eyes, "I want you to take me which-way?"
Dillon baulked, thinking he must not be too ambitious so
early in the piece and suggested, "Doggy?"
"Oh yes, one of my favourites."
"What is your other preference?
Julie smiled and climbed on to her hands and knees and
said cutely, "That's for you to find out."
Finally, replete, they rolled over and faced each other
and she said, "The bed is wet, where's the towel?"
He said seriously, the male was in charge of the
condoms, the female was in charge of towels.
"You're such a romantic," she giggled.
They rolled into a cuddle and drifted into sleep.
* * *
The four friends met at bar: legal company manager of
human resources Laura Coombes and banker husband Robert
(they'd been married five years and had two
youngsters), and Julie Giles and fiancé Dillon Jackson.
The foursome had been meeting once a week since not long
after they went out to dinner on what became Dillon's
first date with Julie.
Laura took one look at Julie and smiled hugely: "I'm on
to you; what's up?"
"Drinks first," Dillon said brightly. "Four champagne
cocktails please Evan."
Evan arrived back with the requested Bellini for Laura,
a French 75 for Julie and on Evan's recommendation two
Japanese Typhoons for the men. With everyone holding
their glass Dillon said to Julie, "Shoot."
"We marry next Friday we hope."
"Oh Julie how wonderful," yelled Laura, rushing around
the table to hug her hugely while the men simply clinked
glasses and Robert said "Heartiest congratulations
Julie" while she turned to meet his lips with hers.
Laura queried, "You said 'Next Friday we hope'. What
does that mean?"
"The paperwork has been organized and a venue and time
booked for 3 o'clock Friday but the ceremony can only
proceed if I can fine an attendant."
"Julie, listen to me, I'll be your attended!" Laura
shouted, almost beside herself in excitement.
"Thanks darling. I rather thought you would but pitched
it this way to raise your excitement level."
They hugged and kissed and Julie provided the details.
The gathering would be very small, just Laura to attend
to her, Robert to stand alongside Dillon if he'd be so
kind (Robert nodded and toasted them with his champagne
cocktail), Julie's two children and Nanny Irene and
Julie's parents. Dion's parents were in Italy on
vacation and his mom had been in hospital for the
removal of a benign growth from her stomach. The only
other guests would be Julie's best friend in her new
life, Sandy Chapman and husband Mark from Robinson
Island.
"I was desperate to bring Dillon to my own bed but with
my young children in the house I don't want them to see
us in bed together until we are married. As usual
Dillon stripped the problem to its basics and asked,
'What are we waiting for?' and neither of us came up
with reason for not proceeding. We decided on a very
small wedding and in a few weeks will invite wider
family and friends to the book launch and to add on the
invitation it will also be the celebration of our recent
marriage."
"We'll calling on close friends to advise them
personally and are writing to notify relatives not
living nearby. That's about it; we simply want to get
married without fanfare as we've both been married
before."
"That's lovely Julie and you should have the wedding
exactly how you want it."
"Thanks Laura. We'll still have a big bash with at least
400 at the combined function."
"Are you okay with the much abbreviated wedding in a
very small church Robert?" Dillon asked. "We'll all
adjoin to a bar restaurant afterwards."
"Suits me fine pal because small can be beautiful."
The men chatted about work pressures, travel plans and
when should they play tennis together again while Julie
was kept busy answering Laura's questions.
"Why do it? You both unfortunately had unhappy marriage
outcomes and both appear to be so happy at present, so
why risk changing anything?"
Julie sighed and patted Laura's arm, and said, "If you
stay where you are you never can go forward."
"I know that silly."
"Is that so Laura but have you actually thought of what
that wording really means?"
"It's just a matter…you smart ass; you know there are
only three possibilities in replying to that: do
nothing, do something or delay the day."
"Quite a smart-ass yourself, ain't you?"
They laughed with Laura agreed delaying the day probably
meant little because someone or something was always
pushing change.
Dillon said, "We both instinctively know we are right
for each other. Julie says I'm the gentleman with a few
rough edges with a sense of duty, order and keen to keep
my chosen woman loving me while I say she's the
creative, wacky and very intense one with plenty of
endearing qualities. We've spoken about this a few
times."
Julie added, "We believe our differences which are
significant will be our strength, pulling us together
because we both know we need each other to be fully
functional as effective human beings."
Laura added her comment: "Wow you two talk at that level
and here I was thinking you were all the time screwing
like rabbits."
"Just because you and Robert are over-sexed it doesn't
necessarily follow that we are."
"Bitch!"
Julie and Laura giggled.
Laura said she admired Julie's belief that the children
must remain her major consideration. "Many other couples
in your situation would have said, 'The children are
asleep, let's rumble' but your attitude was to keep that
right away from the children. Was that inner belief, or
were you following orders from your mum?"
"I didn't have to listen to anyone. Ted had high
standards and I just knew that was how he'd want me to
act; simple as that."
"That makes me admire you greatly Julie."
"Oh come on Laura, you should be admiring me for my
beauty, my wit…"
"Julie please be serious and listen. We decided last
night to ask you to be unofficial godmother to our
children; the only difference being is it's not being
offered within the church because we are lapsed
churchgoers."
"I'd be honoured guys. This is so sweet."
Laura said Robert, "Go grab us a booth darling for
greater privacy while I order fresh drinks. Help him
Dillon, men are supposed to be of some use."
She confided to Julie, "Robert can handle with ease
matters such as changing interest rates, currency rates,
gold and silver prices and the bond markets whether
conditions are good, bad or disastrous. Yet put him
within earshot of sensitive interpersonal relationships
and he becomes a dopey schoolboy."
Julie offered, "Many women say most men are just boys in
men's bodies."
"Yeah, I've heard and read that many times. In Robert's
case I feel his mum was negligent when it came to
teaching him how to talk to women. Um I'd love it if you
would consider assisting to fill this gap in his
education. He has high respect for you."
"Yeah meaning for my boobs and butt no doubt."
"Don't be too sure of yourself darling. He teases me
saying you're the most vivacious and endearing woman he
knows, apart from me, and believe me I know he's not
joking."
"Then is that a compliment?"
They laughed and went arm-in-arm to the booth where
Robert looked at his slightly intoxicated wife slip
rather ungainly into the bench seat.
"Is she okay?" Robert said quietly to Julie.
"She's complaining she's not been satisfied sexually."
"What? But I've been…"
"It's a joke, Robert," Julie said patiently. "You really
don't know much about women do you? They can have humour
too. Do you control any women executives?"
They listened to Robert's reply delivered proudly, "No
International Ops is a man's world."
"Oh dear," sighed Julie exaggeratedly. "We have to do
something about your man Laura."
Astonished that Julie was already at work on Robert, she
said "Do we?"
"He's contaminated being a member of BUTA at the bank."
Dillon was grinning, recognizing Julie's merciless voice
that she used on occasions like this.
"BUTA? What the hell is BUTA?"
"Should we tell Robert?" Julie asked Laura, who looked
just as mystified as the other two. She nodded
enthusiastically.
"It's a male only organization that is a threat to
civilization: BUTA is short for Brains Up Their Ass."
Robert's mouth dropped open in surprise and belatedly
joined in the raucous laughter.
"That wasn't very nice."
"I agree Robert and apologize," Julie said. "But you
should take a fresh look at women and be prepared to
move on with you thinking. It's not a 'them' and 'us'
world Robert. Tell me Robert, why do you like me?"
Without hesitation he said, "You're exciting, dynamic,
talented, have a zest for life and you talk and…"
He petered to a stop.
"She talks and act like a man?" suggested Laura.
"Well yes as a matter of fact."
"It's actually a matter of mis-fact, my darling."
Dillon bounced in. "Yep, they have you there buddy.
Julie's one of the most feminine women I know. She can
be very uncompromising but is still very feminine.
There's a little bit of confusion in your mind about
females perhaps? I suggest you say you're sorry; you
need to get these two off your back."
"Sorry ladies, I was wrong. I'm just…what was that
Dillon?"
"Just a little confused in your mind?" smiled Julie.
"Yes definitely."
Julie looked at Laura, who nodded.
"Robert, would it be okay if I worked on you with Laura
to help make you more comfortable being around women?"
"Y-e-s."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes and thanks because I suppose I could benefit too."
Linda continued, "How many people do you control in the
trading room?"
"Sixty-eight."
"And there are no women."
"Oh yes but engaged only in administration."
"Robert, would you consider doing something for me?"
He nodded carefully.
"I want you to consider ending male dominance in your
trading room and the emphasis is on 'consider'."
"Why?"
"Such a move is to make the trading room a better place
and you a better person. I want you to consider
introducing two women simultaneously if possible and
seat them together for mutual support because they'd be
pioneers in your environment. Obviously you won't have
candidates arising through the ranks and they'll have to
be head-hunted."
Robert mopped his brow and said, "Right Julie I'll
definitely give it some thought. Could we move on to
something else…er, how did you tell the kids about the
wedding?"
"Why Robert what a sensitively non-gender question of
relevance to come from you," said his wife. "The same
question was on my lips."
Robert looked pleased, taking a swig of his cocktail but
saying nothing.
Dillon said he'd been side lined for some minutes, so
would answer. He'd insisted that Julie should go solo
and sound them out, but was over-ruled.
Looking slightly bashful he said he'd gone to the
kitchen table where the children were having early
dinner rather anxious because he was unused to serious
conversations involving little people.
He told it how it happened:
"Uncle Dillon why are you looking without smiling, has
something happened?" Paula asked, as their nanny Irene
arrived with three glasses of wine and also sat at the
table. Irene jumped in and said Uncle Dillon and mummy
had been wondering if Uncle Dillon should come and live
at this house with us."
"Tim asked why and Paula said because mummy loved him
and wanted him nearby most of the time. Tim said he did
too and Paula turned to him and asked what?"
"Tim, playing with his food, said he loved me and wanted
me to live with them. Paula asked did he love me as much
as daddy and Tim said daddy was no longer there and
Paula had told him many times that daddy was not coming
back. Paula said, well then they should have Uncle
Dillon as their daddy."
Laura said softly "Omigod."
Smiling at Laura and Robert, Dillon concluded relating
what had happened. "Tim asked where would I sleep and
Paula said with mummy of course, and that was it. We
have since told them about the wedding. Tim couldn't
care less and Paula became very interested and asked if
she could have a new dress."
CHAPTER 9
Prior to the wedding, Julie was very busy, working on
yet another revision of a draft back from the editor at
Acer Publishing where Dillon worked. She was also
bedding into her job as an investigation officer at SLBP
Law after an intense training period as she was the only
investigator without a law degree but it soon became
apparent she had one of the sharpest minds of the seven
other people in the team.
Julie was partnered with Eric Foot, a shy married man of
forty-two who'd suffered horrid burns to his upper body
in pulling a neighbour's child from her burning family
home. A series of skin grafts had still left him a
little disfigured. He attempted to resign due to facial
scars but was persuaded to switch to investigation on a
six month's trial which ended some months ago with his
promotion to investigation's training officer and unit
manager.
Julie moved into doing preliminary work sifting through
documents and phoning witnesses and officials involved
in field work including fire chiefs, police detectives
and forensic scientists. She enjoyed the work and
exposed numerous inconsistencies and omissions that
required further investigation.
As the only non-lawyer she'd been initially welcomed
with cool indifference although the other team members
had attended a pep talk in Laura's office who explained
Julie was Ted Giles' widow and warned then not to under-
estimate Julie who was gritty and sharp.
"Don't be deceived by her looks and fabulous smile,"
Laura told the team. "I've become very friendly with her
socially and she's still rocking me. I'll reveal she's
been given this job on the instructions of our chairman.
Al seems to believe she'll shine forth in the tradition
of Chief Ironside for those of you old enough to
remember that TV investigatory laid-back hero in his
wheelchair. Just give her a chance, please!"
Gradually Julie began to be seen as making a difference,
and received a couple of commendations noted on the
firm's internal website. Soon attorneys were asking,
"Get Julie to take a look at this one – it's a paper
jungle." Someone jokingly called her Julie Ironside, and
the name stuck.
As the weeks passed, Julie received more fieldwork
experience and then came the defence of Detective-
Sergeant (Tobias) O'Malley. Toby was accused of mugging
a prostitute Ruby Alice Smith and stealing $8000 stashed
in her beaten up car. Toby, off duty at the time,
claimed he'd come across the unconscious Miss Smith on
the sidewalk and two men rifling her wreck of a car. He
said the men managed to disarm him and the next thing he
knew he was in an alley, cops all around him and Miss
Smith on a stretcher being taken away, now conscious but
having no memory of the incident.
Everything inside the car was intact – rather than being
ripped to pieces as Toby had claimed – and neither Toby
nor Miss Smith's finger prints were on the vehicle
although it was noted she'd been wearing gloves when
found.
It was assumed by everyone, including the defence
investigators who'd been instructed to check out
everything, that Toby was a bent cop, and told this
unbelievable story after finding the cash and caching it
somewhere safe. He'd been struck on the back of the head
obviously by an accomplice to make it look genuine.
"It's an open and shut case although some doubts persist
and we'll follow the procedures but won't find
anything," Eric told Julie.
"As my training officer you've drummed it in to me,
always remain suspicious."
"Yes, but…"
"Eric dear, you always say 'No buts' and we dig, dig
until we run out of time, have exhausted our enquiry or
the investigation is closed."
"Oh, I stand corrected Mrs Ironside. You are so right."
"Pardon me what did you just call me?
"Oops that's your nickname around her is Julie Ironside.
Don't embarrass me by kicking up a fuss."
"Thrash this investigation with me and your request will
be granted."
They worked hard and found nothing until Julie saw
something: In her signed statement Miss Smith described
her car as a green Toyota and gave the registration
number while the police scene report stated the Toyota
had been impounded and would never be allowed to be
driven again because of its unroadworthy state. The
colour of the vehicle was given as blue.
Eric said, "Blue or green it doesn't matter. Men and
women often disagree on whether a car colour is blue or
green, certain shades that is."
"Both people signing the statements were women."
"Oh."
"It still may be nothing, but Mrs Ironside asks shall we
go?"
Eric stood up hastily and said, "Sure, let's go Julie."
Charges against Detective Tobias O'Malley were dropped
and his two assailants and three other associates,
including an employee at a car wrecker's yard were
arrested and charged with numerous offences including
attempting to pervert the course of justice.
Eric and Julie found that Miss Smith had recently
acquired her car for $500 dollars including genuine
registration (although not to her) from a guy she'd met
in a bar called Will, who worked at a car wrecking yard.
Unfortunately for Will, after drinks and going off with
Miss Smith to sample her expertise, he mentioned where
he worked.
At Julie's suggestion Eric dressed in old clothes and
went to the yard, asking for Will and arranged to be
provided secretly with an expendable Toyota, though he
had to explain the word expendable to Will. Checking
that no-one was listening, Will asked Eric to meet him
at a bar that evening to take delivery of a vehicle
(which Will purchased from his boss for $100).
As the transaction was completed, $500 in marked notes
being handed over, detectives who worked with Toby
sprang their trap and Will couldn't open his mouth fast
enough to explain he could tell them about a really big
incident involving a car swap if he would walk free.
It transpired that the villains had already been using
one of Will's cars and so they bundled Miss Smith and
Toby into it, arranged a fake assault scene in an alley
and then returned to the car they'd almost stripped
before finding the $8000 and drove it back to Will's
employer, selling it back for $50.
Police later recovered that vehicle for evidence and
declared it should never take to the highway again.
Eric and Julie were toasted at Friday night drinks after
the charges against Tobias O'Malley were dropped.
Later there was a special police parade where Eric and
Julie were presented with mounted brass handcuffs
inscribed as being awarded for exceptional service in
upholding police integrity.
Eric replied with thanks and an alert police reporter
heard the mention of 'Mrs Ironside'.
As a result of that, next morning a photo of Eric and
Julie was splashed over page one of the newspaper with
the caption-story beginning:
People often confuse shades of green and blue, but not
legal investigator Julie Giles, known to her sidekick
and boss Eric Foot as 'Julie Ironside'. This eagle-eyed
beauty – sleuth by day, published author by night –
cracked open a scurrilous attempt to frame Detective…
Reading the story, Dillon called Julie.
"Don't you ever have ordinary experiences and boring
days like everyone else?"
"You mean the newspaper story, that was just routine
work," she claimed.
Earlier that morning, over breakfast, Laura and Robert
had their heads together reading the story.
"Al will be wrapped about this; it's wonderful publicity
for the firm."
"Doesn't Julie ever have boring days like the rest of
us?" asked Robert.
"Exciting people have exciting times," Laura said
wisely. "Kids come and have a look at this lovely photo
of your godmother."
Megan aged just three was confused about who it was and
younger Sam grabbed the paper and tore the page.
"Julie's little angels would be too well behaved to act
like these two," Laura sighed. "Call Nanny pleases
Robert to bring a diaper."
* * *
At lunch in the café courtyard, Dillon sipped his melon
juice watching Julie reading the menu. It was lunchtime
and he knew she'd order chicken or tuna salad and so why
go through the routine?
She looked the perfect fiancée, brightly and beautifully
dressed, smiling, made-up perfectly, a lower leg draped
casually over his and asking if she should have tuna
salad (although knowing the answer). He replied in the
affirmative, inducing her to study the salads again. At
least she was a normal woman when it came to making a
decision about food, clothes or which way they should
travel.
Dillon knew he'd be grateful for the rest of Rufus' life
and beyond for that matter for the dog's part in
introducing him to Julie. Her attractiveness had struck
him immediately, and his pulse appeared to rip through
his body when he found she was no longer married, though
the reason for that was difficult to accept. He'd soon
pushed that aside to wonder about life with Julie.
That article about her in today's newspaper was so
typical, a day exploding around Julie. Those who knew
her well would be aware that being around Julie was like
that. Christ, she'd yanked him out of his post-divorce
blues so positively he had trouble remembering what he'd
gone through. She also knew how to energise and then
there was the way she flew into for refuelling to
receive some love, kisses and hugs from her mother was
like watching a racing car go into the pits and come
charging out ready to take on the field. Mary seemed to
benefit as well.
She's got this wacky streak that allowed her to push her
mind past convention and nose aggressively into no-go
areas looking for safe thoroughfare. This was knocking
some of the conservatism off him and Dillon was grateful
for that.
Take that experience on the riverside bench. Oh there
were plenty of women not whores who'd these days play
around with a guy in that manner, in a public place, on
a first-date. But a few weeks later he'd been 'educated'
on mentioning that occasion, asking would she do it
again and the answer was 'probably'. He recalled the
conversation going something like this:
She: Did you like it?
He: Oh yes. Would you ever do that again?
She: Probably.
He: It was high risk stuff.
She: That's why it was exciting.
He: Did you feel a little like a slut with us doing that
on our first date?
She: I wouldn't know what a slut would feel. No I knew
we were heading in that direction so when you pushed me
I saw no reason to delay for a few more days or weeks.
Delaying something doesn't usually increase the chances
of wrong turning into right, or vice-versa.
He: I didn't feel sluttish, either.
She: I bet you didn't. On both occasions on that bench
you were ready to nail me.
He: Was I that obvious?
She: Ha!
He: I'll always remember than evening when those cops
almost nailed us.
She: Me too.
The waitress arrived. Julie handed her the menu and
ordered two tuna salads and a repeat of the juices.
"Thank you for leaving me in peace to study the menu; I
always begin without a clue of what I'm going to choose,
which makes my selection an interesting exercise of
elimination. As you know, nothing much interesting
happens to me."
She looked at Dillon curiously and asked "What are you
laughing at?"
"I was just wondering how someone so unexciting can be
so exciting."
"There's an ambiguity lurking within that sentence of
yours."
"Oh my mistake; perhaps I'm better with my hands?"
"I'm not having sex in a restaurant."
"It's polite to wait until you're asked."
Julie considered that. "I do think we've come a long way
since we've first met. I was like a wee girl who'd had
her doll taken from her and you were rather like a baby
who'd lost his rattle. Now look at us n grown back into
being two adults who love each other and want to build a
hut together with two little additions to complete the
scene plus a guard dog."
"Are you suggesting we sell both our properties and buy
a new family home?"
"I've thought about it a lot."
"And?"
"Before I answer, have you given it much thought? We've
only made generalizations and not debated my contention
we should live where the children are because they are
happy there."
"So, you're now ready for the debate?"
"Yes, I'm happy to go first, but irrespective of what I
say I want your opinion as it is now, unchanged.
Agreed?"
"Absolutely."
Dillon rested his chin on his folded hands, elbows on
the table ready to listen, looking at her striking hazel
eyes – so pale, so beautiful inset in her oval face. The
nose was relatively unobtrusive with a cute upturn at
the end, and then came quite full lips bordering a
generous mouth. No wonder she kissed so perfectly. The
chin looked strong and the neck was elegantly long. It
was no wonder people called her beautiful.
She began, keeping it short and simple, a slight flush
telling him she was aware he was staring at her.
"My preference is definitely to stay where I live now,
the most compelling reason being that I know the
children feel secure there, which is important to me.
There is room galore. However, we'll happily shift just
to be where you want to be."
Dillon asked, "Without a vote of us all, including
Irene?"
"Yes, without a vote; at times mom must be boss."
Dillon said: "Fine, then suits me brilliantly. Let's do
it and settle into your home."
"You mean that?"
"Sure, it seemed so logical to me that I called in a
broker two weeks ago, had my property assessed and it's
all ready to go and she has a buyer in the wings just
waiting for the word. It's a neighbour who always has
envied the property because it is the best in the
street. One phone call and the transaction will be
underway."
"Then do it, as soon as you're ready. I suggest you
shift into our home from when we retired from our two-
night honeymoon at Robinson Island. Does that sound
acceptable?"
"It's brilliant. I'd like to have your property assessed
for value and I'll pay you half of that. I suggest we
also sign a pre-nuptial maintaining our liquid assets in
our respective ownership."
"Agreed but I'll be generous to you Dillon, Ted's death
is endowing me and the children with a great deal of
money, with more to come. I shall refuse to take any
buy-in money from you but I'll assign you half the
property, effective as soon as the papers are signed."
"That's hugely generous of you Julie but wouldn't you be
better to delay that for a couple of years?"
"Why? Might you do a runner on me darling?"
"Julie! Of course not, how…"
"Hush Dillon, remember I do tease at times."
"I'm relieved to be reminded of that; by all means let's
sort out important matters now. Other things can wait
unto we settle down. In the meantime we should open a
joint account and toss 50k in each and purchase any
personal items of expenditure say under $200 from our
own resources."
Julie said no all their expenditure should come out of
the joint account otherwise why have a joint account.
She gained Dillon's reluctant agreement and began
forking up salad that had arrived during their family
business discussion.
Walking from the restaurant Dillon, looking a little
concerned, asked was she happy with everything as
discussed so far.
"Yes and I'd tell you if I'd changed my mind about
anything."
"Don't hesitate to seek independent advice if you think
our joint thinking may be faulty."
"That won't be necessary. Both mom and Sandy advised me,
uninvited I might add, to snaffle you and marry you as
soon because you are the kind of man I need to look
after me. I suggest put your mind at rest in the
knowledge that you are marrying a wealthy and at times
difficult woman who loves you and her two children love
you and your mission in life should now be to lay back
and enjoy. I believe you are a very intelligent, warm
and giving man Dillon."
* * *
The wedding was short and went without a hitch, the
females including Paula all acting a little over-the-top
but that simply intensified the atmosphere.
At one stage during the ceremony, dressed in yellow with
a matching hat and small veil, Julie turned and caught
her mom's eye and held it briefly. It occurred to Julie
it was a re-enactment of the mother-daughter exchange of
her first wedding, and as far as she could determine her
mom's look was exactly the same; it could only be
described as a deliriously happy look.
At the end of the service, the males filed past Dillon,
shaking his hand except for Tim, who was lifted up and
kissed, and the lines changed and the women kissed
Dillon while the males kissed Julie. Everyone including
the pastor and his wife who was organist went to a bar
restaurant and had a great time. Then everyone went to
the airport where Julie, Dillon, Sandy and Mark left on
the first leg of their two-leg flight to Robinson
Island.
The only time Julie had cried was in the restroom at the
church before the wedding, when she had a quiet tear for
Ted and at the airport when she and Dillon were having
their photographs taken and she heard Paula say loudly
to some people watching, "That's my mommy and my daddy."
Dillon heard it also and on the aircraft said to Julie,
"With confetti sticking to us, those people hearing
Paula must have thought mummy and daddy were a few years
overdue with the wedding."
Julie laughed, grabbed him and kissed him thoroughly.
Coming up for air she said, "I love you deeply, Dillon.
You are my husband now."
Three evenings later they were back home, at 33 Nevada
Drive. As arranged Irene had taken the children to the
airport in the big car as Ted's car was now called and
there was great jubilation at the reunion and addictive
excitement as the children led them to the master
bedroom which Irene, Paula and Tim had decorated into
something resembling a hotel room in Rio during Mardi
Gras.
"It's like a brothel, but how cute," whispered Julie.
"I wouldn't know what a brothel looks like," Dillon
smiled, passing the test.
Tim fell asleep at the table and not too long afterwards
Julie took Paula off and was undressing her, one of
those precious moments between a parent and child
occurred. As Julia, squatting, pulled the dress over
Paula's head the child hugged her mommy and said the
inevitable "I love you mommy' but went on: "Daddy's gone
but Uncle Dillon's here properly now. Do you think he'll
let us call him daddy soon?"
Julie momentarily dry sobbed into her daughter's small
shoulder but then was fine. With Paula tucked in Julie
attempted to coat Paula's cheek with her sweetest kiss
ever and with emotions appearing to becoming at her in
all directions, felt she'd succeeded.
As Julie entered the sitting room she heard a soft noise
behind her and a tongue flicked her hand.
"Rufus hello boy," she said, turning to greet him with
eye contact. She saw the sliding glass door was open and
instantly weakened. Obviously Dillon had returned from
the kennels and she could hear him at the kitchen table
discussing aspects of interpretation with Irene over a
poem she was studying. The agreement had been that Rufus
was to eat and sleep in the small utility room just
inside the back door and he must be trained if coming
elsewhere into the house to go to the kitchen and remain
there.
A little later Irene came looking for Julie to say
goodnight. She returned to the kitchen and called Dillon
to follow her and in the lounge they smiled at what they
saw: Julie on the floor, her back against the arm of the
sofa, Rufus sprawled out, his big head in her lap and
her hand on his shoulder. Both were asleep.
"Despite the high-powered moving, talking and
involvement she'd really quite a softie," Irene
whispered. "But for goodness sake don't tell her I said
that; she has an image to maintain."
* * *
Julie lodged her completed revised manuscript with the
publisher and the editor was cajoling Julie to hand
across the completed chapters of her next book but Julie
chose to deceive, alleging there wasn't one in the
pipeline; she just wasn't ready to be pushed at the
moment. That left the middle-aged editor who was
reasonably placid for an editor, attempting to pull her
hair out in chunks so Julie sent her a huge bouquet of
flowers and a $500 clothing voucher. Well, the woman had
been wonderfully patient and thorough with the
manuscript.
At the law office, Julie was finding the results just
kept coming but nothing spectacular until she was
assigned to join the top-rated investigative duo.
Between them they produced a result that had the
courtroom in an uproar when the jury found the low-life
defendant not guilty and the defence team from SLBP Law
was being booed from the public gallery when the Judge
called for silence and asked three witnesses to step
forward.
They came forward, as if expecting to be praised for
their evidence for incriminating one of their own.
Instead their smiles went from their faces as they were
surrounded by police to face charges of perjury and the
alleged murder of a colleague they had falsely
attributed to the defendant who'd just been cleared of
the charge.
A photo of the legal investigators appeared in the
newspaper next morning with an explanation by team
leader Sean Jenks how they'd interviewed seventy-eight
known associates of the deceased, accused and witnesses
against the accused until they found someone prepared to
claim she really knew what happened. Production of her
statement enabled police to launch a new line of enquiry
that they completed with the trial almost completed
after finding a crucial witness in a neighbouring
country.
Julie had found that case exhausting, disruptive to her
life but above all, mostly excruciatingly boring apart
from when they became hot on the scent and so she
resigned. Apart from three notable successes on her own
account and sharing others, she'd also suffered a minor
dog bite, two threats and one assault. She was shoved
backwards on to her ass in mud and with only her pride
dented and decided not to retaliate legally.
Julie had a farewell lunch with the firm's chairman Al
Ludwig, her friend Laura and Eric Foot, head of
investigation.
"You exceeded my expectations by the proverbial country
mile, young woman," smiled Al. "You haven't been with us
long enough to qualify for an official farewell, so this
is it. A case of champagne is being delivered to your
residence this evening – compliments of our management
executive in recognition of meritorious service; I
actually think it's a form of apology from my fellow
partners for having scathing thoughts about me placing
someone not qualified in law into such a position as
legal investigation and you causing them to about face.
Well done my girl. Eric?"
"Julie we're all sorry you are leaving us. We had a
small collection for you but the word spread and money
just rolled in. This is from I guess sixty percent of
people in this firm, some of whom have probably not
spoken to you but they have read about you."
Eric handed Julie an envelope. It contained a family
season's pass to the Milton Heights Ski-field plus two
ten session child ski lessons and vouchers for ten
nights' accommodation to be used in any divisions during
the season.
She thanked both men, kissed them and left with Laura
who was accompanying Julie home in the company's VIP
limo.
Next morning, after a wonderful champagne and coke pool
party the previous evening with the family and Laura and
Robert and their two children, Julie composed two
letters to Al. The first was a personal thank you to him
for being so supportive when she needed him, in
providing her with a task to take her mind off things
and then being so generous in his farewell. She sealed
that letter.
The next was a short, formal letter addressed to Mr Al
Ludwig, chairman, SLBP Law.
Dear Mr Ludwig
Please accept this enclosed check as an endowment to
establish a fund to support, through revenues generated
from endowment earnings, students in their final year at
law school genuinely requiring financial support to
avoid having to drop out.
My wish is to have a trust board of three persons, at
least one female, responsible for promoting the trust
objectives, inviting applications for support and
allocating grants as well as attracting financial
support from other law firms to increase the financial
base of the trust.
My preferred name for the endowment fund is simply: Ted
Giles' Helping Hand Trust. The word 'memorial' is
unnecessary.
Thank you.
Julie Giles-Jackson
Julie then attached a check for $700,000, sealed the
envelope and called a courier. She sat awhile, feeling
very much at peace.
CHAPTER 10
Eighty-eight days later, Julie and Dillon were deep
inside the factory of a printing company. The company's
CEO came to them smiling and handed them ten books, the
front dustcover of which incorporated a beautiful
drawing by Gary Giles, mainly in whites, blues and greys
with just the one highlight colour of copper for Julie's
hair as she stood on a cliff-top arms outstretched and
being drenched in sea spray.
"Here you are guys. I'll bring four more cartons of
books when I come to your party tonight. I've read the
book, it's a good read, brilliantly graphical at times,
but honestly I think this run of 550,000 seems about
right to me. For you to have ordered another five G's
with four more runs pencilled in Dillon is beyond my
ken."
"Don't worry Toby, you just don't really know Julie
here; she eats slower-thinkers with blinkers like you
and me for breakfast. At this stage it can only be an
optimistic guess, yet in my heart I know this is going
to be a huge seller because I know Julie."
Dillon and Julie entered the hired limo and as they
neared the home of Nor-East TV Dillon called Wendy
Stokes, producer of Tonight's Story she was waiting on
the sidewalk as they drew up to stop briefly to meet the
producer of the show and present her with two copies of
the new book for her and the interviewer to thumb
through prior to the interview later that evening.
Dillon jumped out, dragging Julie with him.
"Here she is Wendy, my wife Julie who is one of the few
authors to ever really bring an autobiography to life."
"My God, exclaimed 5ft 3in Wendy, craning to look up a
Julie. You're already tall enough to gain a really big
reputation."
"Just make it happen and Julie will deliver for you
Wendy but warn Sydney to expect a fight-back.".
"Excellent Dillon," said the producer, showing teeth but
no smile. "I need to confirm that you are giving us an
exclusive for 24-hours along with GlobalNews which will
run with a book review and personality interview of
Julie in tomorrow's editions?"
"That's guaranteed Wendy."
"Your husband and I started school together as five-
year-olds Julie. Good luck. We're flashing promos all
day; we can't do anything more. It's up to you to
perform when Sydney grins in that evil way of hers
before attempting to castrate you."
Julie frowned, "Don't you mean castigate?"
"Oh yeah. Sorry that other thing is what she tried to do
to males she interviews. She'll be trying to rip out
your throat, artfully of course. She enjoys people
thinking she should present herself as being Mrs Nice."
"Yeah these chicks flourish in your industry don't
they," Julie replied. "It suggests Wendy is bored with
life."
"Well darling, don't let the Sydney grind you down,"
Wendy smiled.
Back in the limo Julie said, "Whew, what a woman. She's
gotten me all nervous."
Dillon laughed. "And thinking? All she was doing was
stirring the pot. She wants you to go toe to toe with
Sydney so that viewers get to watch confrontational TV."
Already Julie's mind was on something else.
"Dillon, I'll say it once again but I'm truly sorry I
had to plead to put off the wedding drinks for friends
until after this book launch. I would have been too
nervous, I'd become consumed by the book… I-I owed it to
Ted to inject my very best into it."
"Come on, I told you I accepted that totally," Dillon
said, hugging her. "A family wedding and that handful of
close friends was all I wanted. Neither of us needed a
fanfare as we'd both been through it before."
"This is an appropriate moment to tell you we should
regard our party tonight as the real wedding breakfast.
Your mom and Sandy have geared everything up. It's not
just drinks; they've taken over the banquet hall as
well. Everyone will sit down to a feast and those two
women are paying for that, leaving my company paying for
the cocktail function as planned."
"B-but neither of them told me they were doing this, not
a word."
"They swore me to secrecy but asked me to tell you this
afternoon to achieve what Sandy called 'prolonged
excitement' after you've collected the first books."
"She's so sweet."
"Yes, and I'd glad I'm going to see more of her. You two
are great together. There'll be a book inside you about
that kind of friendship."
"That's enough of other books for the moment thank you."
The limo arrived outside the media centre.
"I'm looking forward to introducing you to Morrie
(Maurice) Wishart," said Dillon.
"Rogan, could you keep circling the block, we should not
be longer than fifteen minutes."
"Yes Mr Jackson," said the chauffeur.
In the editorial offices of the GlobalNews Dillon made
the introductions and handed a copy of Life After Ted to
the book review editor, who rushed away with it, and he
gave another copy to columnist Morrie Wishart, who would
interview Julie.
Morrie had the photo-shoot completed first, just of
Julie standing against a pale blue backdrop holding the
book, smiling and looking slightly skywards. The
photographer took three rolls of film before she smiled
and thanked Julie for being so patient.
Julie had modestly pulled back up the front of her dress
the photographer had yanked so far down than even Julie
became nervous about the amount of cleavage she was
showing.
Relaxing over coffee after the shoot, Julie asked,
"Morrie how did you and Dillon meet?"
"We went to football together for years as part of a big
group of guys, but one by one they left the city, a
couple died, and now there's just we two. We recently
decided to lease a box and invite our families to join
us, at least those interested in football. Do you like
football Julie?"
"What's football?"
"Oh no," Dillon groaned.
"No, that's good Dilly. She doesn't know yet whether she
likes it or not; it's up to us to convert her into a
fan. What a challenge!"
Julie asked ominously, "Dilly?"
"Er watch it sweetheart. Quite a few guys have regretted
calling me that. It's only tolerated if used by
extremely close friends."
"And your new wife is not your extremely close friend?"
asked Julie.
"Sure you can use it."
"I will not, I hate the name!"
"Guys come on, let's get this show on the road as my
deadline is looming. I don't quite know what to ask
because I haven't read the book."
"Oh that's fine, I've already written a script for you;
feel free to change anything."
"Er thanks Julie," Morrie said, accepting the 3-page
print-out.
Morrie began reading it and said: "This is damn good
copy; are you sure you're not after my job?"
"No being an author and being decorative for my new
husband and a loving mother are my chief interests
Morrie."
"Are you sure you want me to publish these hard-nosed
questions and bitchy answers? It doesn't leave you in a
good light; you'll be upsetting a lot of people and yet
you appear to be a lovely lady."
"Yes, I'll be grateful if you would consider leaving in
the pugnacious bits. I've made a point of studying your
style to make sure readers know it's your writing voice
they are reading."
"It is and you've even fooled me," Morrie grinned. "With
you writing this for me, I'll not be late arriving at
your party; I better phone Diane to tell her we're going
early."
"Are you sure you don't want to ask Julie any questions
Morrie?"
"Oh yes Dilly thanks for reminding me.
"How tall are you Julie?"
Much later the happy couple temporarily left the book
launch/dinner for the 20-minute TV studio interview.
"No holds barred?" asked the show presenter Sydney
Morrison.
"Correct, I want be look like a real bitch," smiled
Julie, as the lights came on the countdown began.
The attractive honey-wouldn't-melt-in-my-mouth ageing
presenter looked into the camera, slowly breaking into a
studious smile.
"Tonight we meet Julie Giles who so soon after being
tragically widowed has written a book about her life and
her love for her husband. Then, with husband Ted not
long in his final resting place, he's been replaced by a
stepfather for her two small children. For God's sake
who is this woman?"
"Julie, did your husband's death in that tragic vehicle
accident at the St George's Tunnel upset you
considerably, I mean enough to cause you to lose your
mind?"
"I grieved for twenty-one days as I state in the book.
Then I decided it was time to get on with my life."
"So soon just twenty-one days and is that saying, if I
may use the phrase, that's him done and dusted?"
"That's about it Sydney. He's now just a picture on the
wall and of course memories. My children needed a father
and so I set out to get them one."
"So you found a wimp?"
"Try saying that to his face Sydney but I warn you, it
will probably be tomorrow before you wake up."
"So he hits ladies?"
"I'm not aware that he does, but he may feel like
slugging a hard-nose bitch if he felt he was defending
my honour."
"Meaning me and you are suggesting you are honourable?"
"Whatever you say Sydney. My new husband is a lovely,
giving and a rather passive man by nature who's other
great love in his life is his Golden Retriever Rufus,
who's adopted me as his co-owner. Could we get back to
me and my book?"
"You feel you have honour when you've dishonoured your
husband by grieving for him for only twenty-one days and
then taking his replacement to bed."
"That's all explained in the book Sydney. I understood
you were supposed to read the advance copy before
flinging these questions at me. However I'll tell you
this: there's no fixed time when one must mourn. On the
twenty-first day after I left the cemetery I downed
three martinis and dove into my pool fully dressed and
wearing the non-water resistance diamond watch he gave
me as a wedding present. That symbolic act was
deliberately conceived to drive him to the back of my
mind, where I'd still treasure him. The expensive watch
now has a new movement fitted and I wear it on formal
occasions in memory of him and I'll probably give it to
my daughter on her 21sat birthday."
"In my symbolic plunge into the pool to turn around my
life as best I could, I swam crying and crying. I came
from the water barely able to walk I was so exhausted. I
left my grief behind in that pool and walked into the
house knowing my new life had started. Within two hours
I had worked out the sequence of chapters for this book
and a working title, Crying Ain't the Answer Julie."
"Answer this Sydney, what's so wicked and wanton about
that? We all cope in our own way. I'm just a short
griever and luckily know how to deal with it."
The interviewer, looking slightly stunned, said "That's
amazing and what refreshing insight. I guess that
thinking is expanded in the book."
"Well yes, but you're being too kind, Sydney. You'll
have me unnerved."
"You married for your children's sake. Did your children
have a say in that?"
"My son is five and displays huge fondness for my new
husband. A picture of his father hangs in his bedroom.
My daughter is supposedly six but thinks and acts far
beyond her years; she kept asking me to hurry up and
marry because she wanted a father again. My fiancé and I
never went to bed in my house until after our small
wedding."
"Did you go to bed with him at his house?"
"Oh yes, and that's in the book, described in graphic
details in fact."
"Oh really? This book of yours is published by the
company in which your new husband is senior vice-
president. Would the book have been published had had he
not been working there?"
"I think so. Four other companies competed for the book
and the highest offer, by $15,000, was accepted. My
husband took no part in the negotiations."
"How much was paid and what are the projected
royalties?"
"Just as you don't blather about your earnings in
public, Sydney, I don't either. But I will say if women
are stupid enough to buy my book for a good weep and
enlightenment I'll become awash with money. I personally
believe sales will top one million or even race away
much higher than that if my writing strikes a responsive
chord in readers."
"Julie promoting your book is not permitted on this
program."
"Oh silly me. Was there some other purpose for me being
invited here?"
"Yes the intention was to present viewers with a glimpse
at what makes this unattractive and hard-nosed
opportunist tick. And then you walk in here looking
beautiful and oozing charm so I suppose you'll leave
having clearly established that you're also warm and are
lovely to your parents, your kids and even your adopted
dog likes you. Well, I guess I can't win them all."
"That's the spirit Sydney. At least you had the
…BLEEP…guts to try,"
"Thank you, Julie. Just watch the language, huh?"
"You have a nanny who doubles as your house manager
which means you only see your children to say hi and
goodbye?"
"Not at all, I work from home and usually don't write
when they are running around, although I take and make
some calls concerning my work. I also work four hours a
week at their school so they see me there; I take them
to swimming lessons each Saturday morning and I take my
daughter to ballet classes without fail and stay
watching. My children and I eat out twice midweek and
lunch at their choice of venue on Saturdays. On Sundays
which we call Funday we always do something exciting as
a family that include Nanny Irene and my parents too and
Dillon, my former brief fiancé who's now my husband."
"Your main income from writing is from writing porn I
believe?"
"I don't believe I've ever written anything that
qualifies as porn. I've written for and earned income
through Real-Time Online Books which caters for Adult
and Porn genre writers and readers. I publish
exclusively in the Adult section."
"Yes, quite, and you're breaking our rules about self-
promotion again Julie. The book you wrote early this
year, Daughters of a Whore has just been declared 'Adult
Book of the Year' by the International eBook Publishers'
Association, hasn't it?"
"Not that I am aware; when was that announced?"
"Over night."
"Well-well, aren't I lucky? I haven't had time to look
at my emails over the past couple of days."
"Judging by the title, that book sounds disgusting.
Briefly, and choosing your words carefully, what is the
theme?"
"Oh you'll love this Sydney. A prostitute had two babies
while working, and then retires to live with a guy and
they have a child. The adults are killed in a small
aircraft crash and the story follows the lives of the
daughters who were at that time eight, six and two. The
eight-year-old matures to become a rebel and falls prey
to men and drugs when she leaves her foster home aged
eighteen – and the story then jumps six years to when
the two younger sisters searching for their older
sister, find her and help to rehabilitate her. She
becomes a social worker, the middle sister marries a
wealthy financier and adopts two children and the
youngest daughter never marries but enjoys the company
of men and becomes the mayor of the city where she
resides."
"It sounds lovely… er and risqué."
"It is, and my first husband proof read that novel for
me and confessed it moved him. I cried many times
writing that book, but not quite like the tears I wept
when writing of the brutal way my husband died when
describing how it happened in great detail."
"Then why did you bother and put yourself through such
an ordeal?"
"It was a story inside me wanting to get out; I just had
to do it. There are things in Life Without Ted that some
readers may find inspirational. I emote heavily when
writing, whatever the passion or tragedy, I get the
impression I am writing beyond myself. Don't ask me to
explain – I don't understand it myself."
"Well, Julie, we're right out of time. Thank you for
being with us tonight and get back to what I understand
is your delayed wedding breakfast.
"I'm off home to read Life Without Ted," Sydney said.
"Then tomorrow I'll be online to download Daughters of a
Whore and on Sunday my family will be introduced to
Funday."
"You're an impressive lady Julie. Good Luck."
"Thanks Sydney. Whoever said you were hard-nosed needs
their head read."
The chauffeur dropped Dillon and Julie at the
entertainment venue and that completed his duties.
Dillon said slyly, "Well here we are at our big bash
almost three months after our small wedding. Weren't you
sad that you were married before just a handful of
people wearing that cute little gold dress instead of a
white dress and veil?"
"No, when you dropped to your knees, half-drunk I seem
to recall, and pleaded to me to marry you without delay
I was so moved. You did a brilliant proposal. It seemed
the sensible thing to do, making life so much better for
the children, and of course I hungrily needed a man, a
real man, and that's why I replied 'Yes, marry me Friday
week."
"I'll always love hearing you tell that story to the
children as there're growing up."
Dillon and then gently rebuked Julie: "You avoided
answering the question about the white wedding dress?"
"You know me, some questions I never answer."
Sandy and Mark Chapman were waiting for them at the
entrance.
"Hi, a wonderful, wonderful TV interview and everyone
inside is raving about it," yelled Sandy, highly
excited.
They hugged as she said, "Come with me, Julie – I need
to smarten you up a bit."
"Won't be a minute darling," Julie called to Dillon, but
he knew otherwise.
Mark said, "Let's go Dillon. We'll be quicker than them
but I've stocked up with beer."
Fifteen minutes later, Mark and Sandy stood in the
centre of the room with a photographer and a video
camerawoman, Julie's parents and Dillon's parents who'd
flown in from Europe.
Mark hushed the assembly and announced, "Ladies and
Gentlemen – the bride and groom" and the Wedding March
boomed out.
Julie was wearing a fantastic short white lace strapless
wedding dress which her parents had ordered from a top
dressmaker. Julie's mother Mary said the bride's size
had not changed in years and elbowed her husband James
in the ribs when he said 'except for her bust." Sandy
and Mark had insisted on paying for the wispy matching
veil and stunning thin bejewelled headpiece while to
complete the surprise, Dillon's parents provided the
Italian shoes and French underwear.
Dillon had hired tails and white gloves for himself to
give his new wife a replica post-church wedding she'd
always remember. He'd also bought wedding clothes for
the two children who led Julie and Dillon into the
banquet hall, the 400 guests from the book launch who'd
now become wedding breakfast guests.
No other formalities were planned apart from brief
speeches of welcome from the co-hosts Mary and Sandy.
But when the copies of books for guests arrived someone
called out, "Speech Julie, Speech Julie" and the call
was taken up, ending in applause when she walked to the
rostrum with her children and Dillon.
She was vintage Julie.
"Thank you everyone for humbling me tonight. I'd told
myself I hadn't wanted a white wedding dress but cried
when this dress was being put on me so my little white
lie was evident. This is proving to be a wonderful day
for me and for these little guys and this big guy. I
love them to bits. To my mom Mary and my friend and
honorary surrogate mother Sandy I say heaps of thanks
but add if you two weren't sitting on your backsides as
bored housewives you wouldn't mess around like this. I'm
going to start you two writing – mom's handbook will be
called, There's Life After Sex, I Think while Sandy's
will be called Half-Crazy People Are Nuts – as she has
to be half-crazy to have befriended an adult waif like
me as I was at that time."
"Dillon's parents Helen and George have come all this
way from Tuscany where they are living for six months,
and it has been so lovely for me and the children to
meet them and for Dillon for show them what a task he
has taken on with his off-the-wall new wife. Mum and
dad, thanks for the astonishing surprise of this great
dress. I shall always treasure it and there may come a
day when Paula decides to wear it and the day may also
come Tim's fiancée eyes it but this is me just
romanticizing yet again.
"As I indicated a few minutes ago to Dillon's parents
I'll be rather a challenge for their son to handle. I
can report the way he's been handling me really gets me
going. My big announcement is I've decided to get him
writing, to put his masters in English Lit to proper
use. He's thinking about it and my suggested title
really interests him, What Women Do to Get Their Book
Published. He's suggested he and I could co-author a
textbook for aspiring authors without the advantage of
higher literary study and who are unaware of publishing
requirements, some of the detail in plain English about
technicalities concerning pace, character development
and other things including that old chestnut about
clearly establishing point of view."
"Finally you may be interested to know my damn editor
who is here among you with her husband, is pushing me
for a follow-up to my book about Ted. As that publishing
house doesn't do sex, I'm rather stuffed er perhaps
that's not quite the right word but you know what I
mean. Well, it's already half-way completed because I
never work on only one manuscript at the time. Helping
work at Paula and Tim's school opened my eyes, and I
gagged when told that legal trends over public and
personal safety and liability are likely to squeeze
parents' right out of the school grounds permanently. So
someone needs to stand up and bellow out the warning of
the looming fight-back that is happening right under
their noses, and I guess I feel that person is me."
"You legal mongrels and fat-ass lazy politicians, if you
think parents are going to be squeezed out of children's
schools without a whimper you've a huge surprise heading
your way, so better batten down the hatches. I can't say
any more as my husband's associates want our book to be
first on the shelves over this issue. My agent waited
until Dillon was in Ireland before making my pitch to
his company's editors on such a submission and to his
astonishment Dillon arrived home to find me holding a
$30,000 advance payment from his underlings.
"So, that's where I'm at. On behalf of my parents, I'd
like to voice their belief, 'My, hasn't Julie come a
long way since we picked her up legless beside her
pool'. In case any of you are wondering, yes I did think
about Ted when I was going through a repeat of our
wedding ceremony here today and I'll be as honest as one
can get, yet I privately thanked him for the wonderful
life and the two children he gave me."
"Thanks everyone. Rarely am I humbled but you guys have
done Dillon and me and my children Paula and Tim proud.
I'm off to the ladies because here ain't the place to
cry Julie."
She escorted her family from the rostrum amid great
applause and then Sandy hurried her outside, both
weeping. When they returned Julie found Art Ludwig and
his wife Veronica waiting for her with Irene and the
children and they all went into a very emotional albeit
happy huddle.
* * *
The months passed and Julie, Dillon and the children
settled into a tight, loving family. However Irene was
not entirely focused on academic work and home
management: young university men began calling,
initially singularly, but they multiplied during summer
as word spread that great food, complimentary liquor and
use of a beautiful swimming pool were available at
'Irene's place' and her wacky employer had to be
experienced to be enjoyed.
Regulars looked forward to the occasional appearance of
Mrs Giles-Jackson "She's an off-the-wall character who
behaves like a teenager on steroids or something
stronger, who over-fits her bikini sensationally and is
a laugh a minute," was how one visitor described his
afternoon with Irene and friends.
By the time Irene finished her degree, a very
intelligent though shy young man devoted to her every
whim was regularly as her side. Her parents joined the
Giles-Jackson family to attend Irene's graduation
ceremony and Dillon took everyone to dinner early so
that Paula and Tim could attend.
As end-of-academic-year had been approaching Julie had
been sad that she'd soon be losing her lieutenant, but
not so. Irene took her to afternoon tea in the Copper
Room at Thompson's Department Store.
"Um, this is very embarrassing," Irene began after the
sandwiches and cream cakes had been served and she was
pouring the coffee.
"It's all right, dear, nothing ventured nothing gained,"
Julie said sweetly, assuming the axe was about to fall.
"You mean I can stay on? Oh Julie, how wonderful," cried
Irene, hurriedly putting down the coffee pot and leaning
over to hug Julie.
"Some graduates take a year off before trying to kick-
start a career. I thought I'd like to stay on for
another year and attempt to start a novel."
She was invited to continue on as house manager and
accepted the additional salaried role of acting as
Julie's personal assistant. Those two were so happy!
International sales of Life After Ted are expected to
top 3.55 million by the end of this month; Julie's
follow-on book Parental Revolt in the Schoolyard is
already No. 7 on the Best-Seller list for non-fiction
hardcover books with pressure groups springing up
nationally aiming at bringing politicians to heel over
the right of parents to directly involve themselves in
classroom and sports and other school activities and at
the same time be protected by special legislation
against spurious litigation.
Julie's new book, Men – Why Are They on This Planet? Has
already gained advance orders exceeding 800,000 and it's
not due to go to the printers until the end of next
month.
Julie's productivity is keeping Gary Giles very happy
and he and Dillon regularly play golf together
regularly, both being on single-figure handicaps. Their
wives go shopping together and the families meet once or
twice a month over a meal.
Julie hosts TV's syndicated wildly successful An Hour
Being Roasted by Julie. It's Nor-East TV's national
award-winning show that currently has the TV station
defending law suits totalling more than $8.8 million
against the show from very disgruntled 'roasted'
celebrities. The TV owners are thrilled by the
controversy and their lawyers advise that the claimants
won't be successful in gaining anything but further
notoriety if they proceed to court.
A sum of $30,000 from initial royalties received from
Julie's first book was donated to the city's Department
of Pathology for new equipment; $5000 was donated to the
re-equipment fund at Paula and Tim's school and so far
$244,000 from Julie has gone into the Heavy Traffic
Accident Research Foundation's funds and specifically
tagged to be spent on safer movement of containers on
highways; that support will continue for as long as Life
After Ted continues to produce revenue.
Julie is fine, in great trim and right now is on the
phone to Paul Wiseman saying she'll accept the $825,000
he's negotiated for the film rights to Life after Ted on
the condition that a water-tight agreement is inserted
into the contract and written to ensure that the film
script, filming and all subsequent film editing relating
to her late husband Ted follows closely that of him
portrayed in 'spirit, character and presence' in her
book.
She horrified Paul, instructing him if that request was
declined then he should tell the negotiators to stick
their offer.
Dillon, Julie, Paula and Tim have just returned from the
Crusoe Resort where they attended the wedding of Paul
Chapman and the Bobbi Fitzgerald, the daughter of the
resort's executive chairman which followed a week after
the couple's graduation. Paul didn't really think a
wedding was necessary, but Bobbi did, which indicates
who will wear the pants in that marriage.
Paula has been talking to Julie and Dillon about
'making' a baby sister for her; Tim thinks that's okay
providing it's a boy. Julie and Dillon rather like the
idea of adding their 'mix' to the family.
THE END