by Brian Cain
CHAPTER TEN
Bar beach Newcastle was a nice spot, the sea air clean and fresh, the high ground above the sandy beach between sheer rock faces stopping the crashing waves was fine solitude. After renting a property for over a year Jodi purchased a substantial dwelling with commanding views of the beach. She detested one thing, the lines of coal ships visible on the horizon awaiting loading at the Newcastle coal port one of the biggest in the world.
The children had safe access to the beach facilities and she could always see where they were, after the cool and harsh winters of England the children made the most of their new environment. Jodi struggled to have them study a downside she had failed to consider the boys and Lola spending endless hours surfing and enjoying beach life. The black Mercedes was always there, faces came and went but the vehicle was always present, Jodi became oblivious to the shadow of her husband. If the children were at the beach she at least felt reassured as the black Mercedes or Jaguar was always in line of sight of her siblings.
Her twin boys entered university studying law, Lola the picture of her mother was plagued with an endless row of young men wanting to hold her hand. The black sheep of the family her eldest son was of his father, nothing could stop him returning to England when graduating from high school and entering a military academy. Fearless and decisive she could see everything in her husbands DNA grow before her very eyes. Jodi’s heart yearned for his quiet distinctive manner, everything she loved about his father was obvious, but she watched the clone of her husband board a plane, the last she ever saw of him. Laden with patriotism fate may have its day and she could do nothing about it.
Time passed, Jodi became embedded in the political reporting of the Australian federal parliamentary scene. The lone black Mercedes or Jaguar turned into two, then three. She noticed these changes but failed to pay mind to exactly why. Lola married and made a home neighbouring her mothers and produced Jodi a granddaughter, Jasmine. Her twin sons graduated as lawyers and set up practice in George Street Sydney.
Jodi began to run into trouble, her beauty was a curse, she commanded dominance over the political scene and through the bedroom wrote stories that often brought down powerful members of government. She was put under surveillance by the Australian Federal Police and Australian Secret Intelligence Organisation. Feeding them information purposely for use of her position dead ends investigated by the Australian authorities led to more intensive surveillance. Then one day;
She felt an uncanny connection, she could plainly see her husband in her mind, and she could feel him close. She rushed to the commanding lounge room bay window and stood behind the lace curtains, she trembled with postulation looking down into the street below, her ears picked up a commanding roar of a growling V8 engine. She froze, a magnificent red and chrome car slowed passing by her window, the windows rattled struck by the growling engines aggressive sound waves, she had no idea what kind of car it was but she recognised the drivers square cropped greying hair, it was John Stanton her husband. She put her hands over her mouth and slowly shook her head, “Oh my god John, how I’ve waited.” She mumbled.
She ran to the door flinging it open and rushing down the steps to the street, in a cloud of smoke and a deafening roar the car had vanished. She wept in her hands, not because she was upset but because she was overjoyed. She slowly walked back inside standing at the bay window waiting, her hands over her mouth trembling and damp from tears dripping from her nose. The red car roared back past, it stopped directly below her, again it left its trade mark on the road in a cloud of smoke and deafening roar, Jodi sat down in view of the window on her lay back lounge chair still weeping. The black Mercedes had gone, replaced by a far more ominous presence and one that wished to be known. How long would she have to wait before she could hold him, and from where did this red horse originate, was he and had he been closer than she thought?
She rushed to her computer and nervously put in the registration number of the vehicle to a search engine graciously bestowed on her by she knew not whom. Pictures of the very car on show somewhere immediately graced the screen, she read the press release accompanying the pictures. ‘Newcastle resident and recent British migrant John Stanton’s incredible 1969 Boss Mustang, said to be the most incredible vehicle ever judged in the Sydney annual motor show open modified class. The supercharged five hundred cubic inch weapon features maximum reliability and power one of a kind for a daily driven vehicle. It is the first time one vehicle has won five different classes of the major Australian car show. Some parts of the vehicle are that high tech judges were off limits when it came to close inspection and questioning. The vehicle driven by owner builder John Stanton also won the burn out competition and fastest standing four hundred metres ever covered by a road going vehicle. John Stanton was quoted as saying, ‘the car was a labour of love, the horse is dear to me and a classic mustang said it all when it came to the power of the horse.’
Jodi looked up, she heard his voice in her mind. ‘Six black horses.’ She smiled and mumbled to herself. “Of course, six black horses, the tomb of the unknown soldier, a message to all, including me.” She read the remaining sentence.
John Stanton assured the media the growling red menace would become a regular sight at shows and rod meets.
In the days to come Jodi heard the car but never saw it as hard as she tried, then the black Mercedes reappeared after a day of absence of the red pest, it pulled up and a man in black knocked on the door.
Jodi answered the knock with an inquisitive face. “Mrs Stanton or Simpson.”
“Yes.”
The middle aged man handed Jodi an envelope, he nodded with a forced smile, walked down the steps to the waiting car. Lola arrived in the driveway, Jodi waited as she made her way to the front door. “Someone called and said you needed me here straight away.”
Jodi shook her head, then looked at the letter. She became stone faced, pale, Lola followed her inside and closed the door. They sat down at the kitchen table, there was silence, the envelope bore the crown of the realm and was sealed with the wax seal of MI6. Jodi broke the seal and gently pulled out the heavy white parchment A4 opening it with her perfectly manicured hands. She read out loud to Lola.
“Dear Jodi, Lola, Robert and Anthony Stanton,
It is with great sadness and regret we inform you your son and brother, Luke Lance Stanton, has been killed in Libya yesterday, whilst carrying out his duties as a member of Military Intelligence.
Our thoughts and prayers are with you at this difficult time.
Your husband and father John Stanton has currently been rushed to France to investigate the circumstances; Luke was involved in operations with the French Secret Service within Libya.
We are sure you are aware of the delicacy of this matter although it be under such tragic circumstances. The conditions of the situation permit this be the only briefing concerning the matter and we cannot publicly support any leaks of this tragic event, many lives depend on the stealth required of such matters.
Again we stress the thoughts and prayers of all are with you at this tragic and difficult time.
Yours Sincerely
Adam Hollis.
Secretary of State, Westminster, UK.
As they held each other and wept openly the letter clutched in their hands below their chins, the tears struck the parchment and it decomposed before their eyes leaving only a powder on the old oak table top.
