TouchStone for ever (The Story of Us Trilogy) (22 page)

He moves over to the
dining table, boots up his laptop and waits, arms folded, pensive. His eyes
widen and he gasps. It’s a video of a woman tied up, being whipped. It’s Elise.
Feeling uneasy witnessing this sadomasochistic sex act, he’s actually nauseous.
‘To each his own,’ he thinks. ‘But what the hell …?’

Reluctantly, he
dispels the notion that this is Elise Richards being violently whipped and
sexually exploited. First because he needs to view it objectively and second,
she seems to be enjoying it. Undaunted, he looks for clues; the man with the
whip is muscular, tall, dark haired. The voice is that of an Englishman; well
spoken, firm, authoritative. One name comes to mind - Ayden Stone.

He shuts down the
laptop and returns the SD card to its plastic case. What an insignificant
strongbox for such an important file; one that could make or break a reputation
with a single glance.

 A decision is made
and he christens it with a sanctifying mouthful or whiskey. He will spend the
day in the office, finish typing up reports on a couple of cases he had
resolved and then he’d devote himself to doing some old-fashioned digging;
except most of it will be done via the internet and the phone. The first point
of contact will be the adoption agency handling the Richards case, or rather
that of a fourteen year old girl named Elise Kilbride.

He places down the SD
card by her file and turns to leave. The light bulb above his head flickers and
he smiles. “I know Elise, don’t worry. I won’t stop until I get to the bottom
of this.” Instantly the flickering stops and becomes a streak of bright light;
it seems to come from the bulb then flares and fills the room with a radiant
glow. In the blink of an eye, it’s gone.

“Night, Elise.” 

Mack turns off the
light and makes his way upstairs to bed. ‘It’s a cruel world.’ He thinks.
‘Kilbride. That name shouldn’t be too hard to trace.’

I have no idea what
time it is or how long I’ve slept but I still feel groggy. The bedside clock
reads 10.00 a.m. That can’t be right!

I reach over to my
watch on the bedside cabinet and it’s 3 a.m. A person could become very
disoriented with this time zone business. Thank goodness we were able to sleep
on the flight over.

Ayden has long since
departed, and on his pillow lies a single white orchid with a note. I read it
and hold the fragile flower to my nose, allowing the delicate fragrance to fill
my nostrils and the rest of my body with a powerful stimulant that reminds me of
last night’s impassioned lovemaking.

Morning, Beth,

You were dead to the
world so I let you sleep. I’ve a 9 a.m. meeting but will be back around
lunchtime. We’ll make our way upstairs for lunch …

By upstairs he means
to the Ozone Bar, I assume
.

Thank you for a
wonderful evening…

Please don’t leave
the hotel alone! If you want to go out for any reason, please call me, and I’ll
make arrangements for you to have an escort. We both know what happened last
time you wandered off alone!

I love you.

A X

Yes, we do ...

All the flowers from
the previous night have been removed except for a single vase, full to the brim
with delicate white lilies. Normality, of sorts, has been restored.

After a quick shower,
a strong cup of coffee and two delicious Danish pastries, I’m ready to start my
day. With no more than a fluffy bathrobe around me I boot up my laptop. Our
first picture pops up, precipitating the inevitable pangs of guilt and remorse.
I access my digital scrapbook; it’s taking shape. Pages are filling up with newspaper
articles, photographs of us and press releases. The music I’ve added pulls at
my heartstrings, but it’s truly a reflection of how I feel. I have to confess
my undying love somehow amid all this pretence.

November  #4

“Doubt thou the stars are fire;

Doubt that the sun doth move;

Doubt truth to be a liar;

But never doubt I love.”

William Shakespeare: Hamlet.

Well, baby, we
arrived at this wonderful hotel, The Ritz Carlton Hong Kong just before
midnight local time. It’s such a magnificent suite. You spoil me, Ayden. Being
eight hours ahead, our bodies were operating on UK time and we were, (how
should I put this delicately?) Still full of energy… (Laughing)

We got all dressed up
and made it as far as the door before you did what you do best; seduced the
hell out of me. Mr. Stone, you are such a naughty man, but I do adore you …

For a brief moment, I
stop and compose myself. I have to believe Ayden will remember the time we’ve
spent together or, at least have the faintest memory. If not …

I can’t contemplate
that now. I busy myself uploading a picture off my phone that Ayden took of us
on the plane, and a stock photo of the hotel. The music I attach is a personal
favourite. Lifehouse sings
From Where You Are.

Before I can type
another word, I have to take a breath - and hold back my tears before they
cascade onto my keyboard like raindrops.

Even when we’re a
room apart I miss you, Ayden. Wherever you are, I feel you reaching out to me,
touching my heart. Last night we made love and the universe was ours while we
were bonded together in the heat of passion. Nothing will keep us apart.

Yours, Beth X

I save the document
and reach for my phone. I text a quick note to Charlie and snap a couple of
photos: the lounge and the bathroom; just enough to impress. Knowing she’s
tucked up in bed I don’t bother waiting for a reply. I move on to my third
task, to text Sylvia, Ayden’s adoptive mother.

Thinking carefully
about what I’m texting I begin:

Hi, Sylvia, Ayden’s
in a meeting but we wanted to let you know we’re enjoying our honeymoon. Hong
Kong is a spectacular city! We’re about to take in the sights tonight before
leaving for the Great Barrier Reef tomorrow. Would you do me a favour? Please
have Patrick scan & email Ayden’s Birth Certificate to [email protected]
We’ll speak soon. Beth x

With all my jobs
completed, I focus on my appearance. What does one wear to a lunch in the Ozone
Bar? Smart casual, I think.

By 11.30 a.m. I’m
ready to go. My black Calvin Klein Blazer looks smart over my Pepe Jeans and
white blouse. I slip on my black ankle boots, tie a scarf to my bag and fill it
with my camera, purse, phone and basic make-up. Who knows where this simple
lunch date will lead.

The TV is on the
business channel. There’s a live news report on foreign investment,
unilateralism and trade wars. A gathering of business types are leaving a high
rise building in the financial district and stopping to address the media as
they exit. I spot Ayden and reach for the handset to turn up the sound.

Surely he’s not going
to meet the press? He
is
…!

Instinctively, I
stand. My thumbnail hits my teeth and I move towards the enormous screen, as if
that will make the slightest difference to the way he carries himself.

I needn’t have
worried. Seeming totally self-possessed, he delivers a statement looking
perfectly poised and regal in his signature suit; he’s flawlessly disguised.
After waiting for silence, he breaks the news like a raconteur spinning a yarn
so adeptly you would easily believe he had done it a thousand times before. I’m
so taken with him, I actually find myself applauding.

Before departing, he
finds the camera lens and looks into it – at me! A sexy smile forms and I find
myself smiling back as if sharing an intimate secret that no one else is aware
of. He winks and I’m so startled I jerk backwards into the coffee table.
Thankfully I manage to steady myself, by which time the report has ended.

By way of a final
touch, I dab my lips with a little gloss and head for the door. A midday text
stops me in my tracks.

I’m on my way back to
the hotel. See you on the roof! A X

I quickly reply:

See you there. B X

It’s a short ride in
the lift one floor up. Unfortunately, it’s crowded with tourists and the
mishmash of languages and perfume has my head in a spin. The narrow corridor to
the bar is bustling with bodies coming and going like a dual carriageway.
Cheerful voices and music set the tone and prepare me for the shock and awe of
a world-class view.

At first there is
only sky and the promise of high-rise buildings with a panoramic view that
stretches all the way across the harbour, as far as Victoria Peak. The swirling
blanket of white foam widens and there is little to witness, except the smile
from the smart bartender as I pass. I head for the window and claim two
high-backed stools with a small marble table between. It isn’t until I feel the
wind in my hair I realise it has an open roof; wearing my blazer was a good
idea.

I envision what there
is to see beneath the smoky ribbon wrapping itself around the building; last
night we saw only lights and today only rainclouds. I feel a bit cheated.

Five minutes pass,
then ten; I check my watch. Perched up on this high backed stool I pretend to
peruse the cocktail menu when really I’m thinking through the events of the past
six days. I find myself lost in thought; my chin on my upturned palm, and my
head in the clouds …

I really don’t know
what to make of these circumstances in which I find myself. My ‘husband’ and I
have an understanding of sorts and, with every new day, I’m beginning to feel a
little more comfortable in his company and in his arms. I suspect it’s not
because of any grandiose ideas about omnipotence or spirituality but the simple
fact that he is becoming more like Ayden; in each new situation and conversation
there are flashes of him. When we made love in Stone Heath, I saw flickers of
the man I love - I know I did; shimmering hues of sapphire gazed back at me
through the miasma of a distant universe. And last night! I heard Ayden’s voice
as real as if we were back in my apartment all those weeks ago … the breathless
whisper of a man experiencing unadulterated rapture. I saw the love in his eyes
and was so desperate to hold onto him but …

Out of the blue, it
hits me: maybe that’s the way to keep his spirit alive, not only in my memory
but within a body seized by an imposter. Is it the physical act of making love
or a heightened emotional state that sparks him into life? I have no way of
knowing.

“What do you have no
way of knowing?” asks Ayden, appearing through the horde of noisy tourists. He
pulls me to him for a soft kiss.

“Whether this mist
will clear,” I reply, reminding myself to shatter my thoughts before they wing
their way to this mind reader extraordinaire.

He attempts to seat
himself on the high-backed stool, opposite me, but he’s obviously unhappy with
the setup. With his feet on the foot rest, his knees project forward, so much
we are a metre or more apart. His leather-soled shoes slip off the footrest,
frustrating him further. He huffs and stands. “We can’t sit here.”

I’m too busy looking
out of the window to be distracted by his cantankerous comments. “Can’t we just
enjoy the view?”

He raises a brow.
“View?  What view?

He has a point.

“Maybe it will clear
later?” I suggest returning to the drinks menu.

“I think it might be
a good idea to clear it now.” He takes my hand, helps me to climb down from my
perch, and escorts me to a vacant space where we are able to gaze out onto the
sea of swirling mist unobstructed.

I feel his lips
against my right ear.

“Blow.”

Looking startled I
turn to face him. “Here?”

He smiles
mischievously. “Yes.”

I glance about the
bar, now full to overflowing with cheerful customers and tourists with iPhones
and video cameras held high. “In front of all these people?”

“They won’t know what
you’re doing,” he explains.

Wide-eyed I shake my
head. “The minute I unzip your trousers, I think they’ll work it out.”

He throws back his
head and fills our little space with raucous laughter. “My darling, you are
adorable.”

I have no idea what’s
about to happen and attempt to return to our stools before they’re claimed.

He circles my waist
with his arm. “I meant for you to blow out there.” He tips his head towards the
window.

“Why would I do
that?” I ask.

“To disperse the
clouds, of course. Go ahead.”

I’m frowning and
constructing a look of utter disbelief. “You want me to blow at a plate glass
window?”

“Why not? Let’s see
what happens.” His wink tells me this is going to be a lot of fun, now we’ve
cleared up the initial misunderstanding.

I look around before
tipping my body forward, purse my lips and blow.

“Harder.”

Feeling foolish, I do
as he orders; I lean back to set myself for the task and blow hard like a child
extinguishing candles on a birthday cake. Before my eyes a small crack appears
in the clouds; it opens up and widens, making me laugh. I blow harder,
encouraged by his boyish smile. In a matter of minutes the curtain between two
worlds clears completely. We are looking out towards Hong Kong Harbour and can
even pick out the towering peek of Mount Austin in the distance.

He slips a hand in a
pocket and whispers into my ear. “Now that’s what I call a view.”

“Me too. That trick
will never grow old,” I remark, propping myself up against him, relishing the
skyline.

“I like to think of
it as a crowd pleaser,” he teases, looking at the people now beginning to
converge around the windows.

“Well, you’ve
certainly pleased this crowd
and
me.” I kiss his cheek and wipe away the
evidence with my fingertips. “And what’s your next trick going to be?”

He scans the room.
Our stools have been taken and we appear to have nowhere to sit. “Getting us a
table. Wait here. I’ll sort something out.”

I’m just about to
say, “Never mind …” but he’s gone. Finding myself alone, once again, I return
my attention to the spectacular view and smile as I replay the miraculous event
over in my mind. I’m still smiling when he returns, looking decidedly pleased
with himself.

“Get your bag.” He
takes my hand and we follow a waiter to a small table that has a reserved sign
on it. “We’ll be more comfortable here.”

Less than a minute
after we’re seated, a fleet of staff appear, carrying two trays and what looks
like a heavy-duty ice-bucket and a stand.