Seventh Day

Unfortunately the final 3 weeks of my Creative Writing Course didn't take place and the course has now finished until September. Wishing our mentor and inspiration Rachel a speedy recovery and look forward to seeing her again in Autumn. We have therefore not been working on any new genres or tasks, however I do still have work that I have not shared with you. Mainly because they are works in progress. They don't start out as this but as the story develops I feel I can take it further. One genre is fantasy fiction and another crime thriller. This is the first chapter, seventh day, of a yet untitled potential fantasy fiction novel.

Chapter 1: Seventh Day

Sienna was confused, tired and cold.  She was huddled close to her mother in the fetal position.  Her nose was filled with dirt and her lungs hurt from inhaling the destruction of her village, Manno. Sienna was with her family, hiding in what she thought was the bowels of the earth. Blood curdling screams came from above and explosions drowned out the terror of the massacre that was happening above them.  

Sienna listened to her father’s whispered assurances and being the good girl she was, she didn’t make a sound.  Warm tears spilled silently and she prayed to the gods that her father insisted did not exist.  Her brother Herme sat with his eyes closed, Sienna was unsure whether he was sleeping.  They had been holed up for such a long time she was unsure how much time had actually elapsed.  

Sienna looked at her mother Gynna, she was deep in thought and her eyes were glazed.  Her long red hair was tied up as always, but wisps of it fell on her beautiful face.  Sienna loved her mother’s face,she was a beautiful woman and so different to the other mothers in the village.  Sienna saw the way the men looked at her with longing and the women with envy.  Gynna was not just beautiful on the outside she was beautiful on the inside too.

Gynna looked at her husband Markil and Sienna saw the silent conversation between them, she wanted to see hope, but she saw fear, desperation and realisation.  Sienna was an extraordinary child with an extraordinary mind.  Whilst she was too young to understand she had a gift, she often would interpret thoughts through looks and gestures.  She also predicted impending doom long before the Sharalaime invaded the village.

Sienna did not know who the Sharalaime were.  Her father had gathered them and executed their escape just before the Sharalaime arrived.  Sienna had heard talk of the Sharalaime and her friends had told her stories of creatures who lived in a land called Exodus.  She had heard a variety of descriptions of the Sharalaime and had forged all these images in her mind to form her own unique image of a Sharalaime.

Her father once said that they had nothing to fear from the Sharalaime.  They lived far away on the other side of the world and had no cause nor reason to come to Santassia, let alone Manno.  Sienna believed her father as he had never lied to her and was always truthful, even when the truth was damaging.

Sienna had so many questions she wanted to ask her father.  How long would they have to stay down here?  What would they do when they got out?  What did the Sharalaime want? Were they going to die? Sienna knew the war was ongoing, as deep as they were in their sanctuary, the screams, shouts and explosions reverberated the chamber they were in.

Sienna thought of Annah and her silent tears once again fell freely.  Annah was her best friend and despite Sienna’s protestations her father would not let Sienna tell Annah where she was going. She couldn’t bear to think of Annah looking for her, scared and alone.  Sienna must have tensed as her mother pulled her close and stroked her lovingly.

Sienna felt her eyelids become heavy and her mother started to rock her gently and amid the chaos Sienna fell into a fitful sleep.  

Sienna awoke to complete darkness.  The gaslight had gone out and no natural light would penetrate the deep earth where they were holed up.  She was still wrapped in her mother’s arms and could feel the rise and fall of her breast.  She could also hear her father and brother lightly snoring as they always did, in sync, and despite the cold darkness this gave her a sense of reassurance.

Sienna realised in the darkness that the noises from above had stopped.  She listened hard and all she could hear was the breathing of her family and her own hurried breath.  She moved her head slightly so both of her ears were exposed and listened again.  Sienna heard somebody call her name, or had she imagined it?  She strained her ears and held her breath and again she heard her name being called.  Sienna had no idea if it was coming from above or below, it was faint and she wondered whether she was still asleep and dreaming.  Sienna often had lucid dreams.

Her breathing became even more hurried from holding her breath for too long.  This roused her mother from her sleep and in turn her father and brother.  They spoke to each other in whispers and held each other in the darkness until her father relit the gaslight.  They all sat in silence straining their ears to hear what was happening on other side of the dirty earth where they were buried.  They heard nothing.

Gynna whispered to her husband “do you think they have gone, is it safe to leave?” Markil shook his head “not yet Gynna, we must be patient, they have not found what they are looking for”.  Sienna wanted to ask her father exactly what they were looking for, but the conversation between her father and mother did not seem to include Herme or herself.  Herme was still half asleep, he was pale and the freckles scattered across his nose were exaggerated in the dim gaslight. “Herme” she whispered “are you okay?”. Herme looked at her and gave her one of his lopsided grins, something he always did when he did not know what to say. The familiarity of how he delivered it, again reassured his sister.

The Barton family remained in their sanctuary for a further three days.  On the seventh day, their supplies were low.  They were tired, dirty and cold.  Herme had developed a cough that was both persistent and loud, none of them were getting any sleep and Sienna thought she was going mad.  She was finding it difficult to distinguish between dreams and reality, as her sleep was filled with the image of the hole they were in.  The voices she heard calling her became more frequent but Sienna was convinced that lack of food, sleep and sunlight were causing her to hallucinate.

It was on that day, the seventh day, they were discovered.


Hayley Mars

Maggie

As you all know I am currently doing my third 10 week Creative Writing Course. As each course begins we often welcome new faces, which ultimately leads to us covering genres of writing we have previously undertaken. The latest one is "historical fiction" I have to confess it is not one of my favourite genres but again, as I did with my previous story in relation to the Titanic, I thoroughly enjoyed mixing fact with fiction to produce an account of an infamous historical event, this time going back much further to 1666 and the Great Fire of London.

In September 1666 the heart of England's capital, the City of London, was devastated by fire. Everyone knows the Great Fire of London started in a baker's shop in the aptly named Pudding Lane, but was it an unfortunate accident or a pernicious Papist plot?

Robert Hubert confessed to starting the fire, even though his story made no sense and it later transpired that he was not even in England until two days later.  It is alleged that  Robert was used as a scapegoat and he hanged in October 1666.

The proprietor of the Baker’s Shop Thomas Farynor and his three children, Thomas, Hanna and Mary managed to escape, but their maid perished in the flames.  This is her story.

It was the 1st September 1666.  Maggie hurried along the crowded streets, littered with beggars and urchins alike.  She breathed in the rancid air permeating from the squalid extramural slums clogged within  the unregulated urban sprawl.  Despite the devastation caused by the bubonic plague of 1665 the poor countryfolk continued to infiltrate the already crowded town looking for work.

Maggie made her way to the river Thames, to collect the parcel of fish for Master Farynor.  It was a humid day but there was a light breeze and as Maggie approached the riverside the air became clean.  She took grateful deep breaths but the sour stench clung mercilessly to her clothing.

“What’ll yer have Miss Maggie” Charley grinned a toothless grin at the pretty young maid.

“Good morning Charley, lovely to see you, I have just come for the master’s fish” Maggie’s soft voice just seemed to encourage Charley to speak louder.

“Oh yer a bonny lass if ever I saw em” Maggie smiled holding out her palm which contained the shilling.

“Yer keep that there, yer ere me  Miss Maggie?” he winked at her.

“Oh Charley I couldn’t, and I shouldn’t really, you do this every week.   Why are you so kind to me?” she tilted her head slightly looking at him with her enchanting chocolate eyes.

He took her silky hand in his, folding her fingers around the shilling.  “Now yer lis’en to me Miss Maggie, first chance yer get, yer and that gen’lman brother of yers get yer’self away from ere, fast as yer can, yer ere me Miss Maggie?”

“Aye Charley, let ‘em alone will yer” they both turned to see young Noah smirking up at them.

Maggie laughed, “see you next week Charley” and off she went.

Maggie thought about Robert joining her in a few days and her heart lifted.  Robert Hubert was her darling brother whom she hadn’t seen for many years, but after losing her mama, Master Farynor had managed to contact him by letter and over the ensuing years they had exchanged many letters and Robert had visited her in London on several occasions.  Maggie only had vague memories of living with Robert in Rouen, France, as a young child.  When their mama decided to return to England, Robert stayed with his father, a watchmaker, in Rouen.

Maggie’s mama did not speak too often of Robert and when she did her eyes would mist.  “Robert belongs with his papa Maggie” she would tell her often.  Robert was sickly and the sewage and filth of the east end would kill him she would often enunciate. Maggie never knew her own father and often thought of Master Farynor as her father, she had lived with the family since she was eight years old.  After her mama passed away from the Typhoid in 1956, Master and Miss Farynor had insisted she stay with them. They became her family.  She would be sad to leave them behind, but she wanted a new life with her brother in France and her mama’s warnings still rang in her ears, she couldn’t bear to lose Robert, he was the only family she had.

“Magggggie” she turned suddenly to hear the familiar excited voice of Mary.

“Mary, I thought you were studying with Master Brown” she questioned.

“No no Maggie, he had to leave early, an unexpected emergency he told us”

“Goodness gracious, I hope he is alright Mary”

“Such foolery he is just fine” acquiesced Mary.

As the two young ladies linked arms together the familiar sound of approaching horses hooves, caused them to pause.  Hackney carriages were common amongst the more affluent and Maggie and Mary scuttled against the wooden buildings to let it pass.  Mary was the youngest of the Farynor children and the most rebellious.  Maggie loved her dearly.  When Mary’s mother died from the bubonic plague a year earlier it had devastated the family and grief had ruthlessly ravaged them all, however Maggie had managed to disentangle them from the depths of despair with her inexhaustible empathy, compassion and genuine adoration for the Farynor family.  Maggie felt that they were now through the worse and as heartbroken as she would be to leave this loving family her heart and future belonged with Robert.

Master Farynor was hard at work when they returned to the Bakery on Pudding Lane.  Thomas Farynor was baker to King Charles II and was the provider of bread to the Royal Navy.  Mary skipped off to escape assisting her father.  Thomas and Hanna were already hard at work with their father.  Maggie went about her daily duties, cleaning and tidying all the bedrooms, sweeping the stairs and undertaking the washing.  Whilst the Farynor family worked hard in the bakery, apart from Mary who managed to evade all type of chores, Maggie was responsible for the upkeep and running of the house.  A responsibility that Maggie relished.

After completing her duties Maggie prepared the vegetables for dinner and the fish she had acquired earlier, free of charge. She rushed to assist Hanna get herself ready for dinner and as they all took their places around the wooden table, Mary miraculously reappeared as if from nowhere.

“Honestly Mary, you really are incorrigible, where have you been? Like it or not you must start to assist us in the bakery” chastised Thomas.

“Oh Thomas, don’t you know that with the assistance of Master Brown, our Mary is going to get herself a fine education, marry a Lord and live a life of indulgence and comfort” teased Hanna.

“Oh my dear Mary, if only it was that straightforward.  But if anyone could charm a handsome Lord, it is you sweetheart.”  Her father took her hand and fondly kissed her forehead. “Well Maggie, this all looks absolutely delicious” and together they bowed their heads whilst Master Farynor said grace.

The dinner was a humorous affair with Thomas and Hanna ruthlessly teasing their young sibling about her inability to perform any sort of chore.  Mary took it all in the light hearted way she took everything, her burned blonde curls buoyantly bouncing as she mimicked, laughed and playfully sulked.  Maids never usually ate with the family but Maggie had always dined with them since her mother’s death such a long time ago.

Once the meal was finished and they had all cleared the table together, Mary once again doing her customary vanishing act,  Master Farynor and young Thomas settled down to a game of draughts.  Maggie took up her sewing basket and Hanna immersed herself in book.  There was a comfortable silence within the house and the muted sounds of the outside streets were oblivious to them all.

Maggie retired to her quarter around 10.30pm.  She prepared herself for bed and took out Robert’s most recent letter, she digested his words once again.

“My Dearest Sister

The agonising wait is almost over. I will be by your side so soon.  Today I have been walking my thoughts occupied by you.  My little sister, my family, my future.  Since losing papa it has been difficult to carry on, but to know that we are to be reunited has lifted me so.  Tis with a light heart I set sail to England on the Maid of Stockholm and will be with you by the 3rd September. Master Farynor has once again been so kind as to offer me a bed and I know how much they mean to you.  Please rest assured dear sister that we will visit often and our door will always be open to them. My humblest gratitude to the Farynors’ for taking such good care of you.

Goodnight Maggie.”

Maggie read it again and one more time before she folded the thick cream paper and placed it back into the gilded envelope.  She held the letter close to her heart and gazing out onto the moonlit pavement, she thought how the hovel laden streets appeared almost splended in the glimmering moonlight. The sound of an oncoming hackney carriage reverberated around the wooden clad empty streets.  Maggie watched as the carriage passed and her eyes were drawn to the royal emblem, masterfully carved on the carriage door, and just like that the carriage disappeared around the corner as if never there at all.  The streets once again fell silent.

Maggie was not sure what awoke her.  But as her senses alerted her, the smell of burning became profound.  Fire.  Maggie’s eyes became pained as her room filled unceremoniously with thick smoke.  She heard the distant sound of her name being called “Maggie, Maggie, Maggie”.

Maggie clutched at the smog, attempting to find a way through the haze.  Her lungs were bursting and she was strangled by the relentless smoke, but she felt for the doorknob and pulled on it desperately.  As the door opened smoke billowed through knocking Maggie to her knees.  She could hear Hanna crying out her name “Maggie, quickly up here, we need to get out, Maggie please answer me”.  

Maggie was terrified. The all consuming suffocating fire flickered, flared, leapt and spat.  Plumes of black grey smoke, wound itself around her like a huge hungry serpent, devouring everything in it's path. Choking clouds of noxious smoke infiltrated her nose, mouth and every pore.  Dragging her down to the hot wooden floor beneath her feet.  She lost consciousness to a chorus of voices screaming her name.

Thomas Farynor stood before Robert Hubert.  “Why Robert, why would you confess to burning down the bakery.  I for one know that is not possible, you would never cause your dearest sister such harm.  You do not have to protect me Robert, the punishment for my carelessness must be mine” he bowed his head.

“Master Farynor, my life is nothing without Maggie, let me be.  I am the deranged french protestant they claim I am and will be punished as such.  Do not feel too badly for me Master as my soul belongs with Maggie and Papa.  It is with deepest regret that Maggie and I will never get the chance of our new life in France but I do not fear death, I embrace it.  My dearest Maggie will be waiting for me and I cannot live my life without her.”

“Maggie loved you so much Robert, can you not see it in your heart to live you life for her rather than with her?”

“Her absence is death Sir” and Robert walked from the room.

Hayley Mars

Thassos

Travel Writing - Up to 2000 words describing a holiday, a journey or even a weekend jaunt! It could be a place you have visited, or even your hometown. The list was endless and I have visited many places, by plane, train, ship, car and even pillion! One place nestles deep in my memory, it was a last minute, late deal, spontaneous trip to the island of Thassos. It was over two decades ago so plenty of research was needed. When I get my book deal I will buy myself a piece of this idyllic Island!

THASSOS

Thassos, described as Greece’s best kept secret.  A hidden gem.  This predominantly green island peeks out like a jewel in the Aegean Sea.  Surrounded entirely by crystal blue waters, near the northern coast of Greece, sits the idyllic island of Thassos.  Here you can immerse yourself in the breath-taking natural environment and get to know a laid-back culture that warmly welcomes each and every visitor.

Thassos lies acutely close to the coast of Thrace and the plain of the Nestos River.  The island is flourishing with history and tradition.  The natural beauty of Thassos is awe-inspiring, with its wooded areas filled with plane trees, cedars, oaks, chestnuts, and fragrant pines. The backdrop is alive with marble and takes on shapes and contours that are not found anywhere else on earth.  Treat yourself to a truly unique and unforgettable holiday on this splendid island.

Feeling particularly audaciously adventurous I reserved my holiday for a nominal amount.  I was aware of my flight itinerary but did not know my final destination that is until I stepped off the plane and boarded my transfer.  I was delighted when I was safely deposited at the Ferry Terminal in Keramoti.  After an exhilarating 40 minute ferry journey, sampling the exquisite scenery surrounding the cool clear waters I knew I was in for a treat and I was not disappointed.  

Stepping out on to the beautiful bay with a shallow sandy beach, bordered on both sides with granite grey rocky promontories, it was paradise on earth. It offers a magnificent beach far distant from all the hustle and bustle of the busy towns on the island, in an environment which will take your breath away. Here God used all his creativity and imagination, in order to create a true work of art in this natural environment. It gives you a real sense of the beauty an island paradise can offer.

The bright green pine trees intermingled with aged grey granite rocks, sweep down to the crystal, deep cobalt waters. My overall impression of this beautiful small bay is of a perfect landscape and an exquisite work of art. It is a place of unparalleled beauty, far distant from the more developed holiday resorts and is perfect for lovers of nature. The sea is crystal clear. Sparkling blue and turquoise seduce your eyes, the warm sand is fine and shining, almost gold, and signifies exactly what it is that Thassos offers to its many visitors. It remains today one of the most beautiful beaches on the island and indeed, I believe, one of the finest in all the Mediterranean.

Paradise Bay is particularly worth a visit and I wholeheartedly recommend that you visit if you can.  It remains relatively undeveloped, with facilities just to provide for the most basic needs of the visitors, and little else. It is 26 km distant from the island's capital, and only 2 km to the south of Kinira. The around-the-island bus stops at the top of the path that connects to the ring road of Thassos, which leads down to the beach. There is limited parking, but one must walk onto the beach, and then choose to go to the beautiful deep sand or on to the rocks, which formerly used to be (and sometimes still are) the naturist beach.  Maybe not quite the scenery you are looking for! The swimming and snorkelling here are superb, and there are many fish to be had for the keen amateur fisherman, and rock pools to be explored - a wonderful day for the whole family.

The endless supply of water sports on the island is only restricted by your energy, ability and imagination.  In addition to the more traditional of water sports such as swimming and jumping in the sea, here you can also enjoy body surfing, kayaking, water skiing, parasailing, snorkelling, pedalos, jet skiing, windsurfing, motor/speed boats and sailing.  For the child in you there is banana and donut riding!

For the keen fisherman, all around the island there are limitless rocky outcrops and jetties from which you can relax and catch a variety of fish and seafood with the simple rod and reel.  Fancy more of a challenge?  Spearfishing is popular in some areas along the island’s coast, especially during the periods when the octopus is more plentiful.  If a little unsure, just watch where the locals fish and follow suit.

Boats are also available to rent and there is nothing quite as special as sailing to a charming secluded beach and to swim, wade or row ashore into a sheltered bay taking in all the beauty surrounding you.  If you are really fortunate you may bear witness to a group of dolphins gliding alongside of your boat.  

Thassos has some of the clearest and cleanest waters in the Aegean, probably even in the Mediterranean and  it is an absolute delight to explore these crystal clear waters, with diving masks and air tanks, discovering the natural treasures hidden beneath the surface.  There are diving schools which offer internationally approved diving instructors in several places on the island.

If you prefer to stay on dry land then why not explore the landscape and geography of this idyllic island.  Bicycles and mountain bikes are available to hire from the numerous bike hire shops dotted around the island.  Thassos is a paradise for both leisurely bicycling or for the more adventurous mountain biking.  Mule and goat trails into the lush and peaceful interior of the island will appear to any one of an adventurous nature.

The valleys and hills of the island welcome walkers and hikers during all four of the seasons, each offering a unique experience.  There are several trails and paths that criss-cross around the island and run from village to village.  The mountain peak of Ypsarion, at 1204 metres high, is a challenging yet rewarding climb, the view you are gifted by reaching the summit is absolutely breath-taking.  Mountain trails lead to some of the least-discovered nooks and crannies of the island, hidden gems of nature's wondrous finery.  Something that can only be achieved on foot.

If you are craving culture Thassos’ ancient past has left the island a bounty of priceless treasures.  You will observe some of the finest examples of world archaeological sites around almost every corner of Limenas, on the peninsula of Alyki and beyond.  Whilst displaying the individual character of Thassos they also represent the true spirit of Greece.  Among the best archaeological sites that you absolutely must visit on Thassos are the Ancient Agora (Marketplace), the Ancient Theatre, the Acropolis, the remains of the walls, gates and temples of the ancient city in Limenas and the ancient temple, sanctuary and quarry in Alyki.

The island's vast ruins are testimony to the thriving culture and momentous power of the ancient Thassians.  They are indeed a part of the island’s unique identity among Greece’s many islands and ancient societies.  Undiscovered ruins continue to be found, unearthed and restored to this present day.  The island’s rich history is documented and displayed inside the Archaeological Museum of Thassos located in Limenas. Another museum not to be missed is the Vagis Museum in Potamia which displays contemporary sculptures by the local Thassian sculptor, Polygnotos Vagis.  Indeed museums on Thassos exist in almost every village on the island.

Carnival in Greece is a period of festivities just before the commencement of the Orthodox Lent.  On Thassos the carnival is still celebrated in the traditional way, focusing on the ancient pagan god Dionysus, the god of wine, feasts and good times. Definitely my kind of god! During the week of carnival there are parties and celebrations throughout many villages of Thassos.  The houses and streets are overflowing in beautiful decorative colours, creating a lively atmosphere.  Floats parade the winding streets with the locals attired as mythical, fictitious and sometimes outrageous characters.

Thassos has numerous delights to tempt even the most adventurous eaters and at the same time the island offers delicious surprises to appeal to the most experienced travellers.  By exploring all of the villages and their local tavernas, or by eating with the locals who befriend you during your stay, you will get to know and enjoy new tastes and aromas that are unique and out of your world. Thassos is of course renowned for its freshly caught and prepared seafood, certainly Grey and Red Mullet, Sea Bream, Sea Bass, Blacktail, Sardines, Royal Bream, Lobsters, Whitebait, Mackerel and Octopus.

If you are determined to experience as many of the best local specialties and delicacies that you can then you should try the winter dish of peppered cabbage, consisting of the local variety of pickled cabbage combined with white beans and flavoured peppery spices.  Tatarka, mainly served in the spring and early summer and in the more sophisticated restaurants.  Stuffed Zuccini Flowers and Sarmadakia.  The flowers of small courgette plants, apart from the fabulous orange colour, can provide the basis for a number of traditional dishes.  They are picked early in the morning before the sun rises while they are still open and then they are stuffed with cheese and eggs, dipped in flour and fried in fresh olive oil.  They can also be filled with fresh herbs and rice and served along with Sarmadakia (stuffed grape leaves).

Pitarakia are a type of light fritters made from slices of courgettes.  Again these are dipped in flour with mint and spices and quickly fried and served with a zucchini relish which gives them a delicious sweet taste.  If you want to sample a very delicious fish try the Kolios “Gouna” this is a local way of cooking the chub mackerel and it probably one of the easiest ways to prepare and cook it.  The fish is slit under its neck and cut all the way around so as to be opened flat in one piece.  This fish lightly salted, smoked and then baked giving it a unique spicy smoky salty flavour.

Thassians have a simple and delicious way of preparing their prized feta cheese.  Slices of feta are placed into a small clay pot with other soft cheeses, fresh tomatoes, sliced peppers, olive oil and black pepper.  The pot is placed into a hot oven where all of the ingredients melt together and the flavours combine to make a delicious Bouyourdi, very simple and quick but priceless in taste and appeal.

After sampling most of Thassos’ culinary delights of an evening I would relax with a glass of Retsina and watch the sunset with an unwavering gaze. As the fiery enflamed sphere of light slowly sank beneath the horizon, melting into the Aegean Sea, threads of light lingered in the sky, entwining with the rolling clouds, coloring the skies, first orange, then red, then dark blue, until all that was left of the sunset was a chalky amethyst slowly sinking into the crystal waters.

My visit to Thassos was a truly remarkable experience and one that I would highly recommend to anyone who wants to experience paradise at an extremely competitive cost.

Hayley Mars

Levisham Lodge

Write a murder/mystery.  Easy? All nine characters have been selected, named and described. The location has also been chosen.  All we had to do was to integrate them into a murder/mystery story of approximately 2000 words.  I really tried, but in an attempt to bring nine characters “to life” it took me 4800 words. Oh and we had a week to complete it! Hope you enjoy.

LEVISHAM LODGE

SATURDAY 14TH DECEMBER 2013

Kevin Parker awoke at 5am, seconds before the dolorous drone of his alarm.  His room was shrouded in darkness and making his way to the window he pondered what sight would befall him after the unanticipated snow storm that swept through the Yorkshire Dales the evening before.  Levisham Lodge was a small retreat nestled high in the Dales, currently closed to the public but this weekend making an exception for a friend of Mr Devant, a Dr Ernest Urquhurt and his colleagues, in what was described as a “team building” exercise. Kevin was incommoded and irritated he resented the sudden intrusion of the pompous Doctor and his entourage.

He looked out of the window and the silvery flakes still drifted down, glittering in the radiant glow of the winter moon. The thick blanket of snow was now visible and Kevin groaned inwardly, doubting that the superfluous guests would leave tomorrow as anticipated.  The skeletal walnut brown trees swayed in the cold winter wind. Though the snow was beautiful he imagined it was cold and sharp. A crisp, white, pristine, shining covering that transformed the landscape making it appear magical.

The Lodge was eerily quiet, all of the guests he assumed still sleeping.  He started his rounds and as he made his way downstairs he heard muffled sounds coming from the kitchen.  He smiled to himself, no matter how early he rose, Florrie was always there, and he wondered at times if she ever actually slept.  The Lodge was burrowed deep in the Dalby Forest and Kevin had worked/lived there for five years, he loved his job emphatically.  It had recently undergone renovation without losing any of the true charm that Kevin held so dear.  The Lodge boasted 20 sumptuous suites, spa, pool, sauna and gym. A restaurant which produced some of the finest food in Yorkshire and all of this huddled in acres and acres of breath-taking countryside, which was currently lying beneath a luxurious layer of settled snow.

Kevin entered the pool area, deep in the bowels of the lodge, the water slightly shimmering from the muted lighting beneath the surface.  Something caught his eye.  He approached the pool training his eyes on the dark shadow underneath the water, as his eyes adjusted to the subdued light he realised it was a body.  Lying motionless at the bottom of the pool was Dr Charles Smythe, dead, with a single bullet wound to his head.

FRIDAY 13TH DECEMBER 2013

Dr Urquhurt blanched at the unnecessary and dangerous speed Moira Bennett was endeavouring the perilous icy roads. “Jesus Moira, slow down please, not much point attending team building if you’re going to annihilate us beforehand” he challenged.  Moira turned and smiled at the handsome doctor beside her “I know what I am doing Ernest, and this monster can handle anything Mother Nature throws at us.”  Dr Urquhurt signed, cursing himself for letting her drive his Audi A4.  She continued oblivious to his hands gripping the seat so tight his knuckles were whitening.  “I am so looking forward to this weekend Ernest, it’s just what we need” she gushed.  He looked at the attractive woman sat beside him and realised he would be spending the weekend fending her off.  “Moira, you do realise the team will be with us?  We will have to be, well you know, discreet?” She responded with a smile.

As they climbed higher into the dales the snow began to fall heavily and thankfully Moira slowed to a moderate speed and his heart rate abated.  Through the haze of the winter snow the Lodge came into view “we’re here” Moira exclaimed excitedly turning the Audi into the almost deserted car park “and we’re alive” she teased.

Dr Urquhurt climbed out of the Audi leaving Moira frantically fumbling with her smartphone, complaining about the lack of signal.  What did she expect in the Yorkshire Dales? As he entered the generous mahogany doors of the Lodge he heard the sound of raised voices.  Dr Charles Smythe was deep in a heated exchange with a petite young woman who was sporting a vibrant violet head of hair.  He cleared his throat to make his presence known.  “Ernest, you’re here” Dr Smythe gestured to the diminutive deluge of colour beside him “can we do this later Kylie” and instantly dismissing her he walked toward Dr Urquhurt with his hand extended.  Kylie glared at him viciously before storming away.

“Who on earth was that Charles?” Dr Urquhurt said whilst taking his hand and shaking it.

“A blast from my murky past Ernest.  Of all the retreats you had to pick you bring me face to face with my psychedelic ex.  I am also assuming that she will not be the only hostile I will encounter this weekend.  Why have you invited me here Ernest, after everything that has happened what the hell do you hope to achieve?”

“Building bridges Charles, that’s all, nothing sinister.” He noticed Charles hands were shaking.  “How are you doing Charles?  Your sponsor has told me that you have been sober for 6 months, that is quite an achievement and you and me, well we go back a long way.” Dr Urquhurt digested the man before him.  His destructive lifestyle had aged him but he still had a full head of coal black hair, his long features and roman nose made his eyes appear too close together, a widow’s peak prominent on his creased brow.  “You had me struck off Ernest.”

“You were stealing and selling drugs Charles, you left me no choice.  Before Dr Smythe had chance to respond, a floundering flustered Moira fell through the door.  “What the hell is he doing here?” Both of the men turned instantaneously to the seething statuesque. She was clutching two small weekend bags, wisps of blonde hair falling around her flushed features. “Ernest, please tell me you did not invite him here, after what he did, he could have ruined you.  My god Charles have you no self-respect?” Her voice becoming more fervent with every word she spat. Before either doctor had chance to respond a tall imposing man joined them “I thought I heard voices, good evening, you must be Dr Ernest Urquhurt? My name is Kevin I am live in security and Mr Devant has asked me to ensure you all have a wonderful weekend” the men shook hands.  “Now let me take you to your suites” immediately defusing the tension in the lobby of the lodge.

“Thank you Kevin, this is Moira Bennett and Dr Charles Smythe and we are just awaiting Dr Pierre Francois and his lovely wife Charlotte.” Kevin shook hands with them both absorbing the discernible rigidity between them. “Well you have been allocated the four finest suites of the lodge, Mr Devant’s orders, the rest are still undergoing renovation.  You will have access to all of the facilities.  The spa, pool, sauna and gym are all allocated beneath us and Kylie will be available for any additional treatments you require.  The restaurant and bar are just through there and your suites are situated on the first floor. Dinner will be served at 8pm and breakfast at 9am.  If you need anything at all, please do not hesitate to ask” Dr Urquhurt noted that although his words seemed sincere, his eyes reflected annoyance.  After handing out the keys to the guests, Kevin mumbled an excuse and disappeared as covertly as he had appeared.  With a toss of her head Moira marched toward the stairs.  Dr Smythe turned to his old friend and said “as I predicted Ernest, hostile.”

Charlotte held the gilded invite between her fingers, looking at the gaudy garish gold lettering with distaste.  “Pierre, this is shamefully showy, probably a foresight of this weekend.  Remind me again why we have to do this?”  Dr Pierre Francois, looked at her and laughed heartedly at her pouting face.  “Charl we have to, stop your sulking it’s only two days.” he responded, ruffling her auburn hair.  “Yes you say that now, but look at this snow, we could end up snowed in for god sake.  Perish the thought that we remain holed up with the cantankerous Urquhurt and his audacious mistress Moira” she placed her hand over her amethyst eyes in docile disquietude.  Dr Francois’ eyes danced with amusement and as he pulled on to the car park he winked “no turning back now.”

Kevin greeted the final guests noting how beautiful Charlotte Francois was.  Indeed they were both an extremely striking couple.  He warmed to them immediately, they seemed inconspicuous to their outward beauty and were friendly and warm, in comparison to the previous guests.  Once he had them settled in their suite he went in search of the staff who were all congregated in the kitchen.  

Arthur Ronseal, the Health & Safety Rep, was sat at the table, furiously studying various documents clutched in his podgy fingers.  “Big mistake letting guests stay when the renovations are incomplete, an accident waiting to happen” he said to nobody in particular.  His generous contours seemed moulded to the chair he sat in and Kevin noticed tiny beads of perspiration glistening off his bald head. Kevin didn’t like him, didn’t trust him, he was regimented and tyrannical to them all, even the guests.  Arthur could find a potential hazard in everything and it exhausted them all listening to his ridiculous propositions and having to placate the guests when his dictatorial mania became uncomfortable.  However he served with Mr Devant in the forces and he was not going anywhere much to Kevin’s displeasure.

Both Kylie and Florrie appeared troubled.  They were ignoring Arthur and speaking to each other in hushed tones, it was not that that disturbed Kevin but normally upon his arrival Florrie would be fussing and pampering, yet she had not even noticed his arrival.  “Everything okay ladies?” he asked and they both jumped, startled by his presence and Kevin felt suddenly unnerved.  “Oh yes Kevin, everything is fine, Kylie is just not feeling too well, perhaps we could send her home?” Florrie questioned.  Before Kevin even had chance to respond Arthur abruptly countered “absolutely not, we have little enough staff as it is, Kylie go and have yourself an early night and you will feel right as rain in the morning.” Kevin did not have the energy nor the inclination to argue and just nodded his head.  Florrie jumped to her feet, smoothed down her uniform and declared “well I had better get started on dinner” Kevin could still sense the anxious aura emanating from her.

Dinner was a rather sombre affair.  Everybody appeared to be on edge, apart from the Francois’ who thankfully infiltrated the tense silence with anecdotes and musings.  Dr Francois and Dr Smythe had attended Medical School together and they shared stories of their youth and frivolity.  They had not seen each other since graduation and both were dumbfounded by this remarkable coincidence.  Kevin noticed that Dr Francois was the perfect dinner companion but there was something disingenuous about his exchange with Dr Smythe, an underlying current of antipathy in his gestures and retorts.  Moira sat stony faced, occasionally glancing at Dr Urquhurt who was clearly amused by her disquiet.  She excused herself from the table and disappeared in a cloud of cologne before dessert was even served.  After the remainder of the party retired to their rooms Kevin helped Florrie clear away and prepare the tables for breakfast.  Florrie was burdened, this he could surmise but he did not want to intrude and assumed she would confide when she was ready.  He executed one last inspection of the lodge and he too retired to his room.  When he finally settled for the night the snowfall had become heavy and dense.

SATURDAY 14TH DECEMBER 2013

Kevin stared horrified at the lifeless body of Dr Smythe, his eyes wide open gazing into nothingness.  The barbarous bullet hole to his head a fatal crude gaping crevice.  Adrenaline replaced shock and he rushed to the kitchen.  Florrie was busying herself making his breakfast but she turned suddenly as he burst through the door.  “Florrie, oh my god Florrie, Dr Smythe has been shot, he is dead.  He is dead at the bottom of the pool.” The frying pan Florrie was holding fell from her grasp causing an almighty crash that reverberated around the room. “What? No? No Kevin, he can’t be?” Florrie ran from the kitchen and despite her years Kevin could not catch her as she dashed to the floor below.  She reached the edge of the pool and keened at the sight of the dead Doctor, wailing like an injured animal, moans escaping from deep within her, before collapsing in Kevin’s arms.

Kevin poured a generous amount of brandy in a glass and pushed it toward Florrie.  Together they sat in an uneasy silence, the occasional sniffle impeding the quiet.  Gently Kevin took Florrie’s hand “Florrie, I have contacted the Police, they cannot get here until the snow clears, they have asked us not to touch anything, it is a crime scene.  We must also get everybody up and bring them to the lounge until they arrive.  Florrie somebody in this lodge shot and killed Dr Smythe, it wasn’t me and if it wasn’t you that leaves six people.  Florrie looked at Kevin questioningly “what do you mean if it wasn’t me, of course it wasn’t me Kevin; how could you possibly think that?”

“I’m sorry Florrie of course I don’t, but your reaction, well of course it is shocking but….” his voice tailed.  Florrie soothingly stroked Kevin’s cheek, took a deep breath and for the next two hours opened her heart and revealed her broken soul to her son, Kevin.

Kevin sat in a stunned silence, traumatised by Florrie’s revelations.  Incongruously everything suddenly made sense to him.  Her behaviour, her fretting, her mothering instincts towards him.  She explained how she had fallen in love as a teenager with a Matthew Mason.  They were smitten and adored each other.  Matthew, she explained, was a wonderful boy with an incredible mind, compassionate, empathic and extraordinarily talented.  One fateful night Matthew, coerced by his questionable companions, took his father’s car and lost control of the vehicle, veering into oncoming traffic.  Matthew and his friends all survived with minor injuries, due to the robust construction of the vehicle.  The car they hit was not so lucky and the husband, wife and small child were all killed instantly.  Matthew was charged with manslaughter and sentenced to a youth offender’s institute.  It was merely weeks later that Florrie discovered she was pregnant.  They were both 15 years of age.

Florrie explained to Kevin that both she and Matthew came from privileged families and there was no possibility that her parents would allow her to keep her beloved son and he was adopted immediately following birth.  The adoptive parents were wonderful people and sympathetic to Florrie and provided her with regular letters about Kevin’s progress.  “I was asked if I wanted to meet you when I turned eighteen” said Kevin with tears in his eyes.

“Yes you was” whispered Florrie, “but you refused, you had every right to refuse Kevin and please do not feel you did anything wrong.  None of us were going to force you.” She saw the regret in Kevin’s eyes “Kevin, you had a wonderful, contented upbringing and you are a credit to Mr & Mrs Parker.  Working here, with you, for the last five years has been perfect and if you want to know why I didn’t tell you, it was because I was terrified, terrified of losing you again.”  Kevin looked at Florrie, the anguish clearly visible and marvelled how this woman had existed all those years with only snatches of his life, standing in the shadows whilst he was loved and raised by strangers.  “My father, what happened to Matthew, Florrie?” his voice fractured with emotion.  She looked at him, her eyes swamped with tears “I never saw him again Kevin, I tried to find him but never could. He just disappeared. That is until yesterday when I came face to face with him again.  Kevin, Charles Smythe is your father.

Florrie consoled the son she had never been allowed to hold. Together they mourned the loss of Charles knowing he would never know of the life he had created so many years ago.  They talked in soft whispers, shedding the years and gleaning as much history of their lives and the early life of Charles.  They talked until the first orange hued rays of sunrise kissed the still snow laden ground, these soft gleams that should have brought warmth to a new day only acted to solidify the reality of their loss. Together they left the kitchen and awoke the remaining occupants, gathering them purposely in the lounge area.

Kevin stood in front of the burning fire with his back to the guests.  As he told them of his discovery the only sound infused within the room was the crackle and spit of the glowing logs.  He turned to face them. Florrie, sitting to his left, hands in her lap, watching him, supporting him, nodded.  Dr Urquhurt was the first to speak “Charles is dead?  I don’t believe it. I was lead to believe this Lodge was secure.  What is the point of having security when an intruder can just waltz in and shoot us?” he was gesturing wildly.

Kevin continued to scan their faces, their reactions and behaviours.  “I can ensure you Dr Urquhurt this Lodge is secure.  I have checked and re-checked.  Nobody came in here last night and nobody left”.

“What are you saying Mr Parker?” Dr Urquhurt questioned.

“What I am saying is that whoever shot and killed Dr Smythe is sat in this room right now.”

Everybody blanched, looking suspiciously at the person next to them.  “This is absurd” Dr Francois injected, “we are not murderers, is this some kind of imprudent prank Charles has concocted?” he fell back in his chair running a shaking hand through his hair.

“I wish it was Dr Francois but regrettably at some time between the hours of 11.00pm last night and 5.00am this morning Dr Charles Smythe was brutally murdered.

Nobody spoke.

“I have contacted the police and they have asked you all remain here in the lounge area.  This Lodge is now a crime scene.  You are not to leave, not to return to your rooms and you are not permitted to speak to anybody beyond these walls.”

Kylie and Charlotte began to weep softly.  Kevin continued.

“I appreciate Dr Smythe was not exactly popular amongst you, but murder?”

“I hated him, I cannot lie. Am I sorry he is dead? No.  But did I kill him? Absolutely not.” Everyone turned, stunned, at Moira’s outburst.  “He almost destroyed you Ernest, he has been on self-destruct ever since.  What is to say he has not shot himself?”

“Moira” Dr Urquhurt exclaimed.

“Why do you hate him so much Moira?” Kevin asked.  “I can see the venom in your eyes and hear it dripping from your lips” Now I am no expert but I am sure that a Receptionist/Admin position will not attract such a healthy salary, yet your wardrobe, luggage and accessories display extreme wealth.” Kevin probed.

“That is none of your business” she responded.

“Well if you feel unable to share it with room, let me give you my thoughts.  I am aware Dr Smythe was struck off due to procuring and selling drugs from your surgery.  I am also aware that you brought it to the attention of Dr Urquhurt.  What happened Moira?  Did Charles get greedy and shut you out, after all it was your idea wasn’t it? Easy money.  Funding for Dr Smythe’s addictions and a designer wardrobe for you.  You can be very persuasive Moira can’t you, I am sure it was not long before he fell under your spell and when he became disposable you sold him out to Dr Ernest Urquhart.  Tell me, how long did it take you to replace Charles with Ernest?”

Moira’s face was burning, as was her indignation “how dare you” she spat.

“Moira, your bed was not slept in last night.  Tell me where did you sleep?” Moira jumped to her feet “I don’t have to sit and listen to this, it is absolutely irrelevant where I slept and who I slept with”

“Sit down Moira” commanded Dr Urquhurt.

Turning to Dr Urquhurt, Kevin addressed him “there is no fool like an old fool, do you really think this woman is interested in you?  You’re on your third marriage, can you truly afford another divorce settlement?” he let the question linger for a few seconds.  Dr Urquhurt paled but did not respond.

“Kylie” at the sound of her name she jumped, like a frightened animal, she peered through her lavender fringe at Kevin terrified.  “I had no idea you were married to Dr Smythe, I also had no idea that you had a son with him. I am ashamed to say I never knew your surname.  Florrie has told me about your altercation this morning with Dr Smythe and whilst I cannot imagine that a tiny thing like you could ever commit such an atrocity, I have to consider that Dr Smythe hurt you badly.  I know your abhorrence for drugs and to find out your husband not only stole them, but sold them on, must have been crushing.”  Kylie began to weep, nodding, but not taking her eyes off Kevin.

“Finally, Dr and Mrs Francois.  I have to say that I took to you both immediately.  You really are an arresting charismatic couple. However something just didn’t sit right with me.  You are undoubtedly close and love each other greatly.  Your fondness is ever apparent, however your gestures and exchanges whilst encompassing love, do not evoke intimacy.  Dr Francois and Charlotte you are not sweethearts, you are siblings.”

Dr Francois bowed his head, wrapping his arms around his little sister as she again began to weep.

Kevin continued “Dr Francois when you were a teenager you came to England from France to visit your mother’s sister who lived in London.  There was your mama and papa and your little twin sisters Charlotte and Eva. On the first night Eva had a temperature and your parents decided to take her to the local hospital, not far from your Aunt’s house.  Everything was fine, it was just a virus, but on their way home they were hit by another motorist, a juvenile, your family were killed instantly and despite incredible time and effort you never knew who killed your parents, the records were sealed, it was not until much later that you were to discover that your old college buddy, Charles Smythe, was the driver of that car.  But how did you discover this?”

The room was deadly silent.

Dr Francois pointed to Dr Urquhurt “he told me.” Charlotte gasped, and only a small sound escaped her lips “Eva.”

“After my parents were killed, Charl and I lived with our Aunt in London.  We grew up there, attended school and then university.  We are close, we share the burden of grief, in losing our family at such a young age.  We couldn’t bear to be separated so when I was contacted by Ernest for the position replacing Charles, it was conditional upon Charlotte coming with me, as my wife. Charles and I had attended college together and I had assumed he had recommended me for the position.  It was after I had been there for several months that Ernest told me who Charles really was.”

Kevin knelt down before Dr Francois “and how did that make you feel, knowing that all those years studying, striving, partying making plans was spent with the man who destroyed your lives”.

Dr Francois looked at Kevin “I wanted to kill him, I wanted to strangle the life out of him, the way he had strangled the life out of us.”

Kevin stood back up and surveyed the room.  “Everybody in this room apart from Arthur, knew Dr Smythe and had a motive to kill Dr Smythe.  But sometimes you have to look at the unexpected.  Arthur, you were in the forces?”

Arthur looked up concerned “yes, you know I was.”

“Remind me, why did you leave?” he pushed.

“I was dishonourably discharged, but I do not see what relevance this has on the present situation” Arthur responded.

“I will decide what ‘relevance’ it has.  You once told me that the Army dealt with you appallingly, your Sergeant, Mr Devant, fought your dishonourable discharge but was unsuccessful, hence why you were offered the position here indefinitely.”

“Yes, that is true Kevin, it was Mr Devant who asked me here and it is an honour to serve him again”. Arthur declared defiantly.

“Arthur you are the Health and Safety Representative, you’re not fighting a war” Florrie suddenly added.

“Interesting choice of words Florrie” said Kevin.  “You see the gunshot to Dr Smythe’s head was execution style, you can deduce by the shape of the wound that whoever shot him stood above him.  I would speculate that Dr Smythe was on his knees.  It was a clean, crisp and efficient kill.  One could argue it was a military kill.  However you have no grudge against Dr Smythe and before yesterday you had never seen him before, your paths have never crossed, so why Arthur? The only reason you would kill Dr Smythe Arthur, is if you were ordered to.”

“This is absolutely preposterous, ordered by who?” Arthur challenged.

“Well by the only person who you would ever take orders from and in your own words ‘it is an honour to serve him again’ Mr Devant.”

“Why on earth would Mr Devant order Arthur to kill Charles” Dr Francois asked, suddenly finding his voice.

Kevin turned to Dr Francois “why indeed? I have no doubt if we were to return to your room Dr Francois, we would find the murder weapon, discreetly hidden and wiped clean.  It did not go unnoticed Arthur that although Florrie came to your room first, you were the last to arrive.  You have contributed nothing, yet you’re usually so fanatically fastidious and meticulous in your approach.  A man has been murdered and you barely raise an eyebrow.  Yet you will complete a twelve page risk assessment on how to use a tin opener.” his voice was rising and Florrie touched his arm.

“Somebody is trying to frame me?” hissed Dr Francois.

Kevin took a deep breath and turned to Dr Urquhurt “you know Mr Devant made that order don’t you Dr Urquhurt?”

“I have absolutely no idea what…….”

“And the reason you know this is because you, Dr Urquhurt, are Mr Devant.  You were Arthur’s Sergeant in the Army and you are the proud owner of Levisham Lodge.  Three marriages and a rapacious mistress does not come cheap, does it Dr Urquhurt? When Dr Smythe was struck off, it hit your surgery hard, so much so, it wouldn’t surprise me if you have been running it at a loss.  What with your lavish lifestyle and the payments you have to make to Dr Smythe, which you are obligated to make as he still owns half the surgery, the pressure was mounting. You wanted to sell but he wouldn’t.  He lived in hope that he could turn his life around and return to what he loved.  However should anything happen to him, as you were joint owners, then the surgery becomes yours, to do with what you wish, which I envisage would be to sell it on as quickly as possible.”

“Is this true Ernest?” questioned Moira.

“Of course it is true.  I did wonder why the renovations had come to a standstill, you have exhausted your funds haven’t you?  Desperate people do despicable things.  I could tell by your demeanour Dr Urquhurt that you were ex-military.  Then it occurred to me, there was something familiar about you.  We had never met but we have spoken haven’t we Mr Devant? Many times. But instead of doing your own dirty work, you call upon your most trusted and loyal comrade, Arthur Ronseal. You have been living a double life and both Charles and Arthur are now the casualties of your deceit.”

The distant sound of sirens filtered into the room but nobody spoke.  

Hayley Mars