‘Sonja, Sonja calm down. I tell you it’s all a little misunderstanding. I haven’t been near her at all. Okay, I admit I was attracted to her, once upon a time, but that’s all it was, just a slight attraction to a pretty woman. We enjoyed a mutual flirtation. That is all. Believe me. Nothing happened. Honestly.’
‘Do you really expect me to believe all that, that bullshit? I heard what the police said. They wouldn’t have come here if she hadn’t made some sort of complaint about you. I know she is the last of your tarts in a long line of your “little lapses in marital harmony”. As if that is not enough! You are a bloody liar! You couldn’t leave her alone, like all the others, another one of your “horizontals”. Except this time, you couldn’t take the hint when she told you to leave her alone. That it was all off. Oh no, not you.’
‘I’ve told you the police have it all wrong,’ he whined in a conciliatory tone as if he was just realising she was going to make this difficult for him. ‘It’s all been blown out of proportion, believe me.’
‘That’s half the trouble. I don’t bloody believe you. Leslie, why would they have bothered to come all this way? It’s a good half an hour from Limassol. No. You’re lying again, only this time you’ve gone too far. You’ve probably terrified the little harlot and a good thing too, she should have known better. She should have kept her hands off someone else’s husband. God knows there are enough single men on this island for her to pick and choose from.’
‘She’s not a harlot,’ Leslie said quietly. ‘You’ve always liked Tilly before.’
Sonja could not stop herself. Before she knew what she was doing she had hit Leslie hard across the mouth. ‘Don’t you dare mention that woman’s name to me,’ she screeched, her Scottish accent becoming more pronounced. ‘Get out. Get out before I throw you out. I’ve a good mind to anyway. I’ve had enough. This is the final straw.’
Leslie reeled back from the force of her hand. An angry red mark was livid across his left cheek and his lower lip was bleeding from where Sonja’s ring had torn his unprotected skin. He looked astounded at her violence; a cold nasty glint appeared in his eyes. He drew himself up, a threatening look upon his face. ‘I doubt that. I doubt that very much. You’re forgetting My Lady, that I own this house. It’s in my name only. Likewise, the same will apply when we eventually move to our new one next month. So don’t you ever forget it,’ he withdrew a cotton handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at his split lip before continuing. ‘No, my dear. Remember, I call the final tune,’ his rejoinder was accompanied with a spiteful malicious smile.
‘You’re a total bastard! I hate you!’ she spat at him.
‘Maybe, but while I’m alive, I’m the one that calls the tune. As I’ve said before you’ve nothing without my say so. And you know what they say about hate being akin to love.’
‘You’re nothing but a-a, fucking power freak,’ she replied shakily.
‘Oh, you can talk,’ he said, putting his handkerchief away. ‘I’m going out now for a walk. It’ll give you time to think about your position and let you calm down. Go and try to repair your face. Crying doesn’t make you in the slightest bit attractive.’
Sonja could not believe he could be so horrible, so completely thoughtless and cold. She watched him as he cockily crossed the tiled floor of the dining room. He picked up a straw hat and placed it jauntily on his head. Without bothering to give her another look he flung open the door to the outside. The blazing sunshine streamed into the room, dust motes whirling in the draught. Seemingly, without a care in the world, he sauntered down onto the cobbled lane that led to their usual walk along the lower track.
Still standing where he had left her, Sonja began to shake uncontrollably. She knew not why, but found she couldn’t stop. She shook with anger and shock. Her legs felt wobbly and she could not move. She was annoyed with herself for letting it come to this. Furious with him for the distress it caused her. Most of all, she was livid because he did in fact hold all the cards. He was right; he did own the house. She possessed very little money of her own, a small pension and a few savings. He had not wanted her to have a career. Leslie preferred her to stay at home and provide all the comforts he desired. All their time together she had been forced to accept his domination over her. She hadn’t noticed it at first, during their early and happier years. Later she began to resent his control. Once he died – and he was nearly twenty years older than she – then his will stated that the house would become hers. There was not a lot to look forward to until then.
Not until she was free of him.
Sonja finally realised. It had taken something like this for the reality to sink in. A tear escaped her eye and then another. Damn him! Damn him to hell. She traced Leslie’s footsteps over to the outer door and took hold of it to close it. Before she could do so however, a shadow fell across her and she looked up to see Alicia standing there.
~~~
‘There! You have the whole sordid story,’ Sonja sniffed, after blowing into her already soggy tissue. Minutes earlier, a spellbound Alicia had listened as Sonja retold the morning’s events and what led up to them. Alicia said very little, but appeared to eagerly and almost ghoulishly absorb Sonja’s sordid tale, word for word. Finally, Sonja stopped talking and sat looking miserable and lost in the faded armchair in her living room.
‘How long has this been happening? Leslie’s affairs,’ she now asked Sonja with a hint of a gleam in her eyes.
Sonja failed to notice as she reached over to attack the tissue box once again.
‘Oh, for years and years. He’s always had a mistress or girlfriend in tow it seems. Almost from the time we first married. He could never say no. Not all of them were anything special either. He just can’t resist shagging anything in a skirt,’ she replied bitterly. ‘He can’t keep his sodding willy in his trousers.’
She sniffed again and looked down at the wet tissue in her hand.
‘So he wasn’t choosy?’
‘No, not especially. Why?’
‘He never turned anyone down?’
‘Oh I don’t know. Why should I. Look, what does it matter anyway? It’s his current affair that’s the problem. Hopefully, the police have given him a good fright. I would hate to have them in the house again,’ she gave a little shiver.
‘Where did you say he had gone?’
Sonja flashed Alicia a look of irritation. ‘I don’t know. Out somewhere for a walk he said. I hope he gets himself well and truly lost. It would serve him damn well right. He said I had to calm down! Bloody cheek! He’s probably gone along our usual track. You know, the lower one before it eventually forks down to the river. I doubt if he’d go any further in this heat, it’s too hot to make the climb back up.’
‘Are you okay now?’ Alicia asked Sonja whilst surreptitiously glancing at her wristwatch.
‘Yes. I am. Alicia, I’m sorry to have burdened you with all this. You just came along at the wrong moment.’
‘Don’t worry; it’s not a burden,’ Alicia smiled at her. ‘Try and take your mind off it. What about a nice soothing camomile tea? I find it really helps.’
‘Maybe. I ought to sort something out for lunch, not that I want anything, but he will. Perhaps I’ll let him get his own while I take the dogs out again. I could go somewhere different for a change, maybe up at Platres. It’s cooler there,’ she was half talking to herself.
Alicia stood up, taking another casual glance at her watch. ‘Well Sonja, I really must run. I have something to do that I keep putting off. Look, I’ll pop in again later if you like, after lunch maybe. Or would you like to come over to me?’
‘I don’t know. I’m fine now really. I just feel bloody stupid. I’ll maybe give you a ring a bit later on this afternoon.’ Feeling more herself, Sonja was beginning to realise that she had told Alicia far more than she would have in normal circumstances. Despite Alicia being a sort of friend, Sonja was well aware Alicia and her husband had been lovers. She had never condoned the fact.
‘Okay. I’ll see you later then. Don’t sit around and brood. Go for that walk. It’ll do you good. Or plan a shopping trip to Nicosia for next week. You could treat yourself to something nice.’
‘You know I hate shopping,’ Sonja grimaced at the thought.
‘Yes, you do. Well I’ll be off then.’
Alicia walked through to the dining room and Sonja let her out. The intense heat from the sun bounced off the thick stonewalls surrounding them. Alicia turned and made her way carefully down the hill. Sonja watched her go. She cut a strange figure. Tall and thin, she almost always dressed in a white shirt and outlandish rust coloured knickerbockers that contrasted wildly with her vivid red hair. An ancient, tattered leather bag she used for gathering herbs hung from her shoulder.
Sonja turned away, relieved to be alone once more. As she crossed back into the dim recess of the house, she fleetingly wondered why Alicia had appeared at her house that morning. She had been so completely upset over the morning's events; she had forgotten to ask her.
Not that she had stayed very long.
Chapter 6. Sunday morning
Stars hide your fires; let not light see my black and deep desires.
Macbeth. Act 1 Scene 4
Tony chewed on his thumbnail, working hard at the reddened skin around its edges. He was completely pissed-off this morning. He could not get the ending right and it was beginning to depress him. Despite what he had told Ann and Diana the other night, this latest play of his was proving to be a bit of a bummer. The idea was good, and the parts he had already written in for the main characters read extremely well. They were interesting and believable, with just about the right sprinkling of odd little quirks thrown in to catch the audience unawares. It seemed to flow in the beginning; Bernard had said so when he read through the first act. It was only now, with the ending looming, the final act was proving to come across as a real hammy read. Tony shoved the papers in front of him to the back of his desk in disgust. Tony gave a groan and picked up his almost empty cigarette packet.
Selecting one, he lit the cigarette from the smouldering butt in his overflowing ashtray. Tony knew he would have to rewrite the last half of the final act. Unfortunately, now was not the right time.
He wasn’t sure if it was Leslie who had once again distressed him and was the cause for his writing failure, or whether he had overestimated his literary talent with this bold attempt. It was far more ambitious than anything he had written previously.
Tony took a quick gulp from the glass of cheap whisky standing on the desk in front of him and belched after the raw spirit slid down his throat. Drawing deeply on his cigarette, and not noticing the ash that spilled over his grubby shirt, Tony returned his attention to the sheets of paper and cursed yet again as he reread what he had written. Taking a heavy black pencil he drew a line underneath all the changes he would have to make, and scored through at least a third of the remainder. Shit! More than a whole weeks work wasted. He crushed the offending words of the page in front of him into a tight ball and tossed it bad-temperedly into the waste-paper bin. If he was not careful it would all become a full psychological block on his writing. A trickle of fear went through him. He knew only too well because it had happened before.
It was only once, and about a year ago. Tony gave a wet fart at the memory. It had been a most shocking and terrifying experience. Not just the virtual shutdown to his writing, but the reason behind it. With bitter regret, he had paid up with money he could ill afford and thought he had heard the last of the threats. But no, once again the nasty insinuating note appeared on his doormat and he had been panicked into a cold sweat. Tony naively had assumed the problem was resolved; but he should have known better where blackmail was concerned. Now, there was the niggling danger that someone else would soon know about his little secret. Why? Who else could possibly benefit from this?
Perhaps, he kept telling himself he was imagining it. Was he being melodramatic and over reacting? He had a sudden dull ache in his chest. Absent-mindedly he rubbed at it, indigestion again. He knew that cigarettes and cheap booze didn’t help; and he really should have a proper diet. He gave another belch. But one thing at a time though, he needed to resolve this major headache first.
If he could only lose himself in his work, then the words would flow and the final act would all come together. Fidgeting, Tony opened a drawer to his desk and turned the contents over, searching for fresh paper. He felt a sudden prick to his thumb and wincing, he hastily withdrew it. To his surprise he found a neat slit in the skin. Tony watched as the blood welled and dripped down onto the floor; a few drops spilling onto his already grubby shirt. Swearing, he grabbed a handful of tissues from a nearby box and pressed hard to staunch the flow. ‘What in the world?’ he thought. Carefully, with his uninjured hand he slowly sifted through the papers until he found the offending item. He’d forgotten the handsomely crafted, eight-inch hunting knife that he’d stashed at the back of the drawer some weeks ago. As Tony removed it, and weighed it in his hand a thought came to him. He was looking at the perfect assassin’s weapon.
Still feeling irritated, and with his unsettled stomach really beginning to annoy him, Tony pushed back his chair and stood up. He grabbed his lighter and reached for another cigarette from his opened packet. Tony lit up and inhaled deeply, the nicotine flooding into his lungs and bloodstream. This simple familiar action helped calm him down. He crossed over from the shady landing where he was working onto the balcony outside.
It was sizzling hot and the wooden railings had taken on a smell of cooked pine. The paint had blistered and peeled on the balcony and the slatted, wooden shutters were in no better condition. Very soon he’d have to renovate the lot before the sun destroyed them totally.
Taking another deep drag, Tony exhaled as he gazed moodily over the panorama spread before him. Be cool. Stay calm; his inner voice spoke to him. All of it would blow over soon and everything could return to normality. He watched a small lizard scuttle across a neighbouring wall and disappear into a shady crevice.
There was of course, the final solution.
But as he well knew, he was a coward at heart and he did not know if he could go through with it. Oh, he had thought about it, long and deeply, all the pros and cons, and what ifs. Tony was nearly at the end of his tether. Bastard! Bastard Leslie. Maybe he should do it. He deserved it the little shit! And the way he felt right now, well, he certainly wouldn’t feel guilty. He could almost justify it.
But if he did do it and it all backfired in his face what then? He enjoyed living in Cyprus. He got on really well with some of the locals in the village. He particularly liked a lazy evening spent in one of the cafes playing a game of backgammon with a friend or two. His Cypriot friends were down to earth and friendly. Tony never had to pretend to be anything else when he was with them.
As he flicked his cigarette butt down over the balcony he espied the familiar figure of Alicia rounding the corner. She must have come from Leslie and Sonja’s, as she didn’t normally venture over to this part of the village. She had her usual scruffy old bag slung over her shoulder, probably full of her so-called herbs. Now there was a scrawny witch if he ever knew one. She was one of the strangest females he had ever met. The only normal thing about her was her unexpected ability to direct plays, and that was completely unforeseen.
Rumour had it, and rumours were always running rife in this village; that she was obsessed with sex. Looking at her, God, who would have thought it? She was probably in her fifties, and he presumed a spinster. Tony was single himself, and at that moment without a partner, but give her one? Forget it! Tony gave a slight shudder. The last thing he would fancy. True, he was younger than she, but even so, Alicia was decidedly strange. And that included his odd tastes. He was not that desperate yet. Besides, he preferred them much younger.
Whenever he had the cash he would make his way down to Heroes’ Square in Limassol; a square that despite its name was more famous for its nightclubs and girly bars. It w
as currently known as the best place for the procurement of young girls and Tony adored the sticklike, skinny bodies of the underage ‘ballet dancers’ from Russia or the Ukraine. And that had been his undoing, and leading to his current predicament.
Tony didn’t want Alicia to know he was observing her, so taking a step back he slipped into the cool darkened interior of the doorway. Furtively, he watched as she walked on down the lane and around the bend out of his view. Now why go that way? Tony knew she usually ventured nearer the upper village fields for her seeds and weeds. That way was Sonja and Leslie’s usual walk down to the river. Perhaps she had a secret tryst with Leslie. Almost everyone knew they had had a fling some time back. Ha! They were welcome to each other. There again, he would not mind watching. For a brief moment his perverted mind imagined what they would do to each other.
His thoughts flitting around in his head, he couldn’t resist a snigger. No. He couldn’t be bothered with her; he had enough on his mind at that moment. Alicia and her untold baggage of sexual obsessions were definitely not for him.
Tony hoped he would have the courage to carry out what he called the final solution to his problem. It was drastic, but an ultimate and fitting conclusion that would enable him to get on with his life. As he fantasized, he felt the now familiar tingle of excitement in his belly as he began to harden. His mouth became dry, and the palms of his hands felt sticky with sweat. His breathing quickened and he pushed his greasy, lank hair out of his shining eyes with a shaky hand.
Once again, the thought of it brought the recognizable tightness in his groin. Hurriedly he re-entered the house, stuffing his cigarettes and lighter into his pocket. He was sweating rather badly now.
Tony hovered over the threshold of his bedroom. The slovenliness was all around him. Strewn clothes, opened drawers, empty cigarette packets, rubbish in every available space. None of this he noticed or cared about. Should he take a break and watch one of his little “specials” from the cardboard box under his bed? If he relieved himself it would relax him. Or maybe he should try and calm down, take a walk - everyone else seemed to be doing so this hot morning? Tony thought once again about Leslie and Alicia. Was she going to meet him?
1 The Assassins' Village Page 5
