“Mummy, what’s a bastard?” Lewis looked up at her innocently and Margaret laughed.
“Someone with very extra special loving mummies and daddies, Sweetheart.”
“Are we both bastards then?” Maureen voiced her question thoughtfully, not quite sure she understood her mother when the answer came back, “not really, no.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Tim looked at her like she was mad. Perhaps she was? “You can’t just bring children into a club like this? And I need a helluva lot more notice that you’re not performing tonight.” He glared at her and then at Maureen and Lewis.
“Tim, I’m sorry, but I really just don’t have any choice.”
“Not my problem!” he carried on wiping down the bar, pausing only to light up a cigarette, which he left dangling in his mouth, puffing occasionally.
“Tim, they can stay in my dressing room and sleep there until I’m done. They’re good kids - it will be fine. No one needs to know.” She didn’t realize this would be so hard. “Please.”
“One night only” he tossed the cloth he was using into a bucket and picked up his cigarette, “and if there’s one peep out of them that’s it. You’re all outta here!”
“Thanks, Tim, I really appreciate it.”
Turning away to take them home to her rooms, she breathed a sigh of relief, and hoped they were able to stay quiet through the evening. It was going to be a long night. The reality of her situation was slowly dawning on her - she didn’t even have a change of clothes for them. And it was Sunday afternoon, so no chance to get anything before the next day. At least the chef would be able to feed them all. She had to perform tonight but not again until Wednesday night, so that gave her a couple of days to work out her plans from here.
She was sure that Sybil Cook would have no idea where she was or how to find her, and she hoped that Nate didn’t overreact when his mother gave him the news, which surely, she was able to do immediately.
Sybil called Leonora and Marija into her parlor. Both women arrived together and stood quietly waiting for their dismissal. Leonora had only very briefly been able to share the events of the afternoon with her cousin before the summons. Knowing that Mrs Cook was aware of their family connection, both were quite sure of the fact they’d be out of a job by dinner time.
“I want to know what you both knew about the children’s mother being in the park today. Clearly it was prearranged, and I demand to know what complicity was required of either of you. My son must have arranged this. Tell me exactly what you both know and maybe your jobs will be saved. Maybe I’ll even give you references. Lie to me and you’re both out on your ears and be sure you’ll not find work in this city again. I’ll personally see to that. Sybil stood with arms crossed, scowling fiercely at her employees.
Leonora shifted uncomfortably. The stony silence all the way home had jarred her nerves to almost breaking point, and yet she knew that she would be able to save her cousin’s position if she was careful. Not daring to look at Marija, she hoped the younger girl would understand what she was about to do.
“Ma’am, my cousin knew nothing about this, quite frankly I’d not trust her with information that needed to be kept under her hat. But Mr Cook did ask me last week to take the children to the park on Sunday. That was all he said though, aside from the fact that if anything happened there, I was to not talk about it with anyone.” She noted the raising eyebrow of her employer and thought it best to extend the story a little further. “Most especially not to you Ma’am.” She finished and risked a quick glance at Marija who was looking straight ahead at the top of the curtains behind Mrs Cook.
“And you thought that was OK, did you? To keep a secret from the person who pays your wages?” Leonora felt like Sybil’s eyes were boring into her brain, so fierce was her look.
“I didn’t understand Ma’am. I didn’t know what might happen. He never said.”
“Well, he asked you to keep something from me. Did that not raise your concern and have you… Oh never mind. Collect your things and go. There’s no point in having a nanny with no children is there? I’ll see your final pay is ready for you to collect on Friday.”
“And a reference, Ma’am?”
“I’ll think about it!” With that, Sybil waved her hand at them both and turned towards the window. “Marija I’ll have a pot of tea.”
As the two women left the room, each was relieved at the way the dismissal had gone. Both knew it could have been much worse. They grabbed for each other’s hands in a brief farewell at the bottom of the stairs. Marija had understood perfectly well that at least one of them needed to keep their employment with Mrs Cook and if that meant being painted as stupid or untrustworthy well that was just what had to happen for now. She also knew that Leonora would be able to share the news with Kaiden and Alyssia later that day and therefore update the person needing to know what was going on in the household as had been arranged the week before.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Nathaniel had spent a couple of productive days in Wellington before starting out for Auckland on the Saturday. Planning to have a quiet day to himself the next day, he was happily motoring along when his tyre blew out along the deserted road. The delay only took a couple of hours out of his day, while he waited for a friendly local garage to fix his tyre and send him on his way. Arriving in Auckland later that evening, he decided to venture further north and stay overnight in the home he thought of as his and Margaret’s.
Entering in the dark, with no one there to greet him, was reminiscent of the one time he’d been there five years earlier when Margaret was away in New Plymouth waiting to give birth to Lewis. It was a strange feeling to not be welcomed home, especially after all they’d both been through so far that year. Fixing himself a sandwich with a few basic provisions purchased earlier that day, he went and sat out on the porch and thought about the woman who had been the central focus of his entire adult life. Her vibrant red hair was still long, thick, and fell in waves below her shoulders. Her blue eyes were intense and her needs were few, but she matched him perfectly. He could not imagine his life without her again, and smiled at the memory of their reunions over the years. No, this time he needed to put her first, and vowed to himself that from now on his loyalty to her and their children would be absolute.
Arriving refreshed at his Auckland offices on Monday, he busied himself with meetings to advise a few key people about the pending changes to the Auckland office and was surprised by the telegram he received just before lunchtime. His mother kept it brief, which certainly did not help.
“The children are with their mother! Come now. SC”
He felt chilled to the bone as he read the words several times over, hoping in vain that they might magically change somehow with each reading.
He was able to secure a flight for the next day from Auckland, and despite two attempts to phone through to Sydney he was unable to connect with his mother or with Margaret to find out more. He messaged his father to advise his plans to return immediately to Sydney and then spent an anxious night tossing and turning, trying to work out what might possibly have happened to change things.
When he finally made it home on Tuesday afternoon, after a long flight that was delayed from leaving in Auckland, he decided to go straight to Margaret’s instead of to his family residence, thinking that he needed the information he was likely to get from her instead of from his mother. To his surprise, as he arrived and was getting out of the taxi, he noticed two police officers ringing the bell. A bad feeling took place immediately in his gut and he eyed them carefully. Of course, they might well have been there for anyone else staying in the rooms, or even the landlady herself? Maybe they were seeking directions? He ran through a series of possible reasons why they may be there, and each one was more absurd than the last. He waited behind them, trying not to be obvious about it, and was soon rewarded by the door being opened to admit them. As feared, he quickly realized that they were indeed there to speak to M
argaret and wracked his mind to work out why that might be.
By the time he had climbed the stairs a few moments behind the officers, he was able to see Margaret inside her rooms, children both sitting on the bed, and noted Mrs Harris hovering nosily in the hallway. Shooing her away with a hard look, he entered the room and was greeted by cries of ‘Daddy’ by Maureen and Lewis in unison. Margaret looked at him as though he was in fact expected, but late.
“What’s going on?” he asked as he entered the room.
“Sir? Your name please?” asked one of the officers.
“Nathaniel Cook. “Why are you here?” he shot a look at Margaret and she shrugged, with raised eyebrows.
Her own mind was racing through possibilities. Either Sybil Cook was behind this, or it was about Thomas… either way, it was likely not a good thing and her body felt numb at the thought of what the day may reveal. She was, however, hugely relieved to see Nate turn up.
“We’re investigating the death of a man whose body was found near the bridge last week, who we believe may be known to Mrs McKenzie here.” The officer turned back to Nate and asked him: “What is your relationship with Mrs McKenzie, Mr Cook?”
“I’m her, um…” Caught off guard by the question, given the circumstances Nate was unsure how best to answer. “I’m Mrs McKenzie’s second cousin, and friend.” He shot a look at Margaret who nodded imperceptibly at this. It was what they had agreed on as his cover for staying with her and the children back in Auckland for the past few years, and so it seemed best to stay with this, for now at least.
“Do you wish Mr Cook to stay while we talk with you Mrs McKenzie?” the other officer spoke for the first time.
She nodded. “Yes, most definitely.”
The first man spoke again, voicing his confusion. “Did I hear you were called ‘daddy’ just now?”
“Yes, err, perhaps we’d best explain some things privately if you don’t mind.” Margaret was ruffled and doing her best to remain calm. Knowing what she did about Thomas’ death and now having police in her room questioning her in front of her children after what had happened back in Auckland, she was struggling to not give way to a building sense of hysteria. She was also aware that her nosy landlady was most likely nearby listening to every word.
Long since having given up any ideas about protecting her reputation for her own sake, Margaret had made peace with the fact that her life was far from ordinary. However, her belief that her children deserved to not attend school being labeled as bastards was something that she wanted to protect them from, and it was also an issue of being able to preserve her rights to raise her children. As an unmarried mother, this was something she’d already been challenged with twice in the past - most recently by Sybil Cook in the wake of Anthea Cook’s untimely death. Unraveling her life story in front of her children was therefore something she was keen to avoid at all costs.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Gregory checked the contents of the bag. He estimated that the retail value of the goods inside might be several thousand dollars, but expected to get far less for his efforts. He’d be happy with a few hundred, split 70/30 with Kaiden that was still a good days’ work. As he walked toward the meeting point with Paul Stokes, he considered his best options for the future now that he’d possibly be linked to the death of a vagrant on the docks of Sydney Harbor. The chances of his being involved were of course remarkably low, but still possible of course. He decided it was perhaps time to move on and mentally calculated the steps involved in doing so. Closing the store, cashing up some of his investments - that was the easy part. Resolving who he was when Gregory was frustrated and horny was much harder.
He knew that as Gregory, he was a gay man, living in a world where that was not allowed and very much not tolerated except in certain circles. Breaking into those circles was not something he particularly enjoyed doing, but knew that his desires were sometimes so strong he had little choice in the matter. Relief for his desperate need was beyond anything masturbation yielded in the privacy of his own rooms. It was visceral and, as his needs grew each time, he could taste the feelings until they threatened to overwhelm him like a starving man at a buffet. The danger and excitement of the past few weeks were quickly bringing him to fever pitch and he knew he needed to resolve it, tonight.
Understanding the challenging position which he was in with regards to his newly acquired knowledge of who Thomas Morris was, he had taken care to record it all in a long letter to Margaret, to be given to her after his departure. He was sure he’d be prepared to leave within a few days, and so was ready to make a few farewells and go quietly. Having always been fortunate financially he was able to close his store and just leave it for a while until he either returned one day, or just disappeared. If that happened, he had a niece destined for a nice surprise from good old long-lost uncle Gregory, but he barely cared about that.
Stokes was waiting in an abandoned building in George Street, at exactly 10.15. Early enough to raise no suspicion by anyone in the area but late enough to ensure cover of darkness for the exchange too. The meeting was brief. Gregory walked into the room at the back of the building, nodded to the two muscle men keeping watch, and put the bag down on the table in front of Stokes. Paul Stokes was vintage wise guy material, having inherited his business from his father before him back in the 1920s. Creamy colored hair, that was once a bold red, sat above a still ginger beard and a thick neck. He was blinded in one eye, which had half closed over since the incident that took its sight 30 years ago, He looked up and grabbed a jeweler’s loupe to cover his remaining good eye and inspected the contents carefully. The whole process took about an hour, during which no one spoke. Finally, Stokes reached into a pocket and withdrew a large bundle of cash, peeled off a few notes which he returned to his pocket and handed the larger pile to Gregory.
“Good work” was all he said, then turned his attention away from the sparkling pile of baubles on the table and poured himself a drink from a bottle of scotch on the bench behind him. He didn’t offer one to Gregory, but waved the glass at him and mumbled the word “Go.”
Dismissed, Gregory stood up to leave and thought it best to mention he’d be away for a while. Stokes acknowledge he’d heard the other man with a simple nod, then sat back down at the table and resumed inspecting the contents of this latest haul. Gregory nodded to one of the muscles again and left quietly, the weight of the money in his pocket filling him with confidence for the remainder of the night.
Yes, he thought to himself, it was time. He made his way through several streets finally locating the narrow stairwell that led to a basement doorway, where a simple rap on the door was enough to gain him access.
Once inside, he was confronted by a large man who took his time to feel his body thoroughly through his clothing, pausing for a long moment to test the weight and growing hardness of his cock and testicles. Satisfied that there had been no apparent flinching - a sure sign of someone who therefore had no business being there - the man patted Gregory suggestively on his rear end and directed him to the next doorway, a little further along the corridor.
Gregory stepped into the room and inhaled the smell of the place. Breathing deeply into his lungs, he tasted the scent and flavor of sweat, shit, and degradation. In the soft smoky blue light, he could make out a bar, where two men stood, naked but for the collars around their necks and leather thongs tying up their hard cocks around their waists. Several other men were lounging about, in a hazy state of drunkenness or perhaps drugged, lazily stroking each other’s bodies, sometimes changing the intensity as feelings of pleasure grew. The fact that several of the men were bound tightly in various ways, some tied firmly to each other, was no more or less shocking than the men who were tied arms and legs stretched on various posts around the walls, allowing other men to simply walk up to each and either take or dispense painful pleasure as they wished. Some moaned with the pain they were given and some felt their pleasure mount to fever pitch - this was all about e
xploring the boundaries of what was, and what was not, good and for each man there the differences were unique to them.
Gregory knew there was yet another room, behind the bar, where only those men who craved real punishment were allowed to enter. The extreme behavior there was not for new visitors to the Den - and it was understood that whatever happened in there was never to be talked about and that absolutely nothing was forbidden. If you didn’t come out of the room, no one would claim any knowledge of what happened, and disposal was quick and effective if ever necessary. The room was also kept in almost total darkness so that recognition of anyone else in there was unlikely.
The Den was something that had been in operation for more than 60 years, and at one time had been an opium den for moderately wealthy gentlemen. However, over the years, it had evolved to what it was now - The Den as it was ‘affectionately’ referred to - meaning the ‘Den of Iniquity’ and whatever that entailed.
No one was even sure anymore who owned the place. There was a jar on the bar for money to be put into by everyone who entered - a lot of money. Failure to do so meant immediate expulsion - and no one was ever allowed back after that. Various bar managers came and went, each one as nameless and faceless as the guests, and no one ever questioned who cleaned, stocked the bar, or locked up each day at sunrise. The whole place just simply served the depraved needs of a few people who all knew exactly what they wanted, needed, and how to give it or get it, depending on what it was that suited them individually.
Gregory nodded to the barman, ordered a large scotch and put a wad of bills into the jar. The rest he left in his pants which he removed and put into a bag, stowed in a box along with his shoes, shirt, and jacket. He’d not be needing those for a while.
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