WYN100 Posted December 23, 2007 Report Posted December 23, 2007 **PART NINE** Martha felt as if the steel bands of at least six towns and cities were playing a combined charity concert between her ears. Eyes still clamped firmly shut, she placed her hand gingerly to her forehead, massaging the right temple with two cautious fingertips. Sliding back across onto the pillow, she thought with some feeling how good it was that at least she'd made it to bed last night....last night..?? A small and as yet indefinable dagger of doubt began to prod the back of her mind. Nervous now even to open her eyes and check on her surroundings, she embarked on a furious mental audit of the previous evening. Rachel - - the stuff about the baby - - THAT pain - - the Surf Club - - - the rugby lads - a 'couple' of drinks - and then..and then...and then WHAT exactly ??? A mental iron curtain continued to slam down at that point, which, along with an instinctive but creeping air of unfamiliarity about her surroundings was adding to the feeling of mild hysteria she could feel rising within her. She flinched at the noise of a door being eased open, and at the end of what seemed an eternity of silence - a voice ..did she know it...vaguely perhaps as the mists over the previous evening began a slow and teasing retreat..but NOT what she'd call 'familiar'..... "Well, good morning my crazy lady, how are we,,?" The 'voice' certainly wasn't threatening in tone which was something of a relief,,,enough to embolden her to the extent of lowering the duvet and easing open the eyelids to see...a spacious bedroom pained in winter white and a balcony overlooking a slight incline which ran quickly down to what appeared to be the northern end of the Summer Bay beach. The morning breeze was already billowing the azure-blue coloured curtains playfully inwards - and in the general direction of a guy holding a tray which contained a jug of orange juice and two glass tumblers. Martha's mind was already working on autopilot attempting to unstitch the core element of a situation that certainly didn't seem threatening via its appearance, but rather felt so through its total unfamiliarity and lack of any immediately grabbable anchor of relevance to her own life. The guy, who was smiling at her in an engaging kind of way had short, blond hair, newly damp from either a shower or bath -she guessed he was around three or four years older than her, and was wearing a pale blue bath-robe. He set the tray down on a table alongside the double bed, made a mock curtsey and said "Juice Madame ..?...freshly squeezed of course..!" Madame gave a small slow nod, simultaneously pulling the duvet further up in front of her, and attempting to focus both mind and bleary eyes. Her voice was dry and slightly croaky as she said "Yes, ...please..um...ah..." He again slipped into acting mode, feigning shocked outrage as- back of the hand to his brow - he said "Ah- how quick they forget..!! - I'm deeply shocked - especially after last night !! - " He turned to an invisible audience, appealing "...shall we give her one more chance folks...?" They obviously gave him the green light as he poured a glass of juice, brought it to her and, planting a kiss on her cheek declared "It's Brent at your service m'lady !!" His comment about the previous evening had begun to play rather darkly on her mind, but as she sipped slowly at the drink which was gratefully welcomed by her dry throat, she decided to keep her own counsel for now and see what developed . It was becoming ominously evident that she may have slept with Brent the night before, but if she considered that possibility to be food for future worry, the juice gagged urgently in her throat as he continued amiably "Nah, no worries - I can well understand the name thing - - I know it;'s a bit crazy, after all, it's not every day you get engaged THAT quick, is it...?" The juice spluttered wildly from a wrong turning in her suddenhly tension-gripped throat, leaving small orange splash-stains on the crisp white bed-linen... Jack thumbed balefully through the small pile of junk-mail envelopes and leaflets offering book-keeping courses and home insurance bargains before shrugging and commenting to the shirt-sleeved postman "I guess it's no surprise - nobody knows I live here yet - even the phone's not plugged back in yet - if you can believe it I think it got disconnected a while back or something - how do you like that one eh ? - the police not paying the bill !!.." The postman gave a chuckle and responded, "Well - reckon it sounds a decent deal to me - - - bit of peace and quiet...- my other half shouldve been born with a phone instead of a flamin right hand - yack yack yack, you know...?" Despite his current prevailing jaundiced mood, Jack managed a thin smile and waved the postman off before closing the door and turning back inside. The double simmering cocktail of the Martha situation plus the fact he simply didn't WANT to be working in the outpost that was Eastlake continued to keep his mood significantly below joyous . AND - that whole wretched business with the car yesterday had hardly helped either. At least he'd been promised that back before too long , and anyway thankfully he was off work today - - Hylton having told him to take the day to get settled.. He headed for the kitchen, tossing the unwanted pile of mail onto the wooden cabinet against the wall and beginning to consider what he could make for his early lunch - or even late breakfast, depending on whose perspective one was using ! What Jack didn't know was that several hours earlier, though just a few footsteps away was that alterations to his new dwelling had been taking place - but not any that were covered by the professional respectability possessed by the postman or the man from the local painting firm who was due to call the follow ing day - rather these were hands emanating from a darker and far more malicious source. They'd belonged to a guy known as 'Sparky' whose close knowledge of electrical current distribution both domestic and industrial had made him a vital cog in the Johnny Cooper gang as they'd moved surreptitiously around doing 'jobs' both in the Summer Bay area and beyond. 'Sparky' had been invaluable to them in disabling alarm systems, cracking high-tech safes and more, but this time his aim hadn't been a financial one, but something more deadly. While Jack slept upstairs he'd worked with silent and thoroughly adept skill on the junction box situated just outside between the kitchen door and the small outer shed. Had Jack settled for cornflakes, his knowledge of the outcome of Sparky's work would at least have been delayed. As it was, the desire within him for a more substantial offering saw him bring from the fridge bacon and eggs he'd at least had the chance to slip out and buy the previous evening, click on the oven...then fly back at least six feet across the kitchen floor, hurled there by a huge orange flash he'd had no chance to even glimpse - then lie limp and motionless- in the kitchen of a house where few people knew he lived - and fewer still were either able or likely to contact him.... Charlotte was getting the distinct impression she wasn't the centre of attention she'd hoped to be. She'd looked forward with real eagerness to her lunch date with Lucas at the Sands resort - buying a new designer top and saving up to visit the new and very well publicized hair salon that had opened just a month or so previously in the city. Her new tinted and attractively straightened style was undoubtedly striking and she had every confidence that this could be the date where she stepped out of the shadow still thrown over the situation by Lisa - though as Colleen Smart would probably astutely observe, she wasn't wholly reluctant at times to draw some capital from that family resemblance which few would dispute had played at least some part in she and Lucas getting together. But - as the waiter arrived to take away the dishes from their prawn and avocado starters, she was beginning to feel even a family resemblance to Jennifer Lopez wouldn't have done her much good as Lucas's attention certainly didn't appeared exclusively fixed on his date for the evening. "That was pretty good, wasn't it !" she observed, attempting again to get a dialogue going - but again struggling to do so. "Hmmm....?" responded Lucas "I SAID....." said Charlotte, a mild note of irritation entering her voice as she traced his gaze to a table just across from them where a blonde woman in her mid-twenties appeared to be involved in a dispute of some animation with her dining partner, a thick-set guy of perhaps a couple of years older again. What she didn't of course know - having been away at boarding school when the original scandal had broken -was that the woman was Naomi Preston. What she DID know - and was beginning to get more t han a little peeved about - was t hat the table seemed to be holding a spellbinding fascination of some sort for Lucas. "Luke -is everything ok ? do you know that woman or someth..." The question died on her lips though as the guy stood up, gripped Naomi by the wrist and began shouting at her. Lucas was out of his seat in response with greyhound-style reactions - yelling "You let her go, you mongrel..", and grabbing a glass of water from the table before flinging it full into the guy's face. "Uwghh..you stupid little...!!" the guy gurgled in shock, seizing a napkin from the table to dry his face as he struggled for his bearings. "Naomi, you ok..?" said Lucas, turning to the other chair - - from where he was met with a most unexpected response... "Lucas what the HELL are you doing ?,,," she snapped, eyes flaming, before getting up and helping the guy dry himself off. "Ted, you ok..?" she asked him solicitously, linking hands with him and saying "We can pay on the way out.." The two of them swept past a thunderstruck Lucas whose protestations had dwindled to a bemused babble. He turned, crestfallen, and thoroughly bewildered back to his own table -where a second shock in quick succession awaited him - Charlotte too had upped and left in response to what she'd just seen. AND - as Naomi reached the reception desk, a glance back over her shoulder took in Charlotte's departure at the far door plus Lucas's uncertain and mystified surveyal of what appeared to be the ruins of his evening - - a smile spread slowly across her features - that little set-up had worked better than she could possibly have hoped...
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