The Broken Trilogy

by Amy Cross

  "Purely by accident," he replies. "I had to know something about you in order to bring you into the game, but I certainly haven't asked about them since you've been living in my apartment have I?" We sit in silence for a moment. "Your parents don't define you, Elly. I could sit down and tell you every excruciating detail about my parents, but it wouldn't help you get to know me any better. In fact, it'd probably obfuscate a few things. Rather than indulge in amateur psychology, I think you'd be better off devoting your energies to the tasks at hand. The game is going to ask a lot of you".

  "When?" I reply. "I thought I was supposed to meet Mr. White soon?"

  "You will," he says, becoming notably more nervous. He eases us back into traffic, and soon we're silently on the road again. "Just wait," he continues after a moment. "You'll meet Mr. White soon enough. Believe me, everything's planned out to perfection. Don't try to rush things".

  "But are we still playing the game?" I ask. "Or is it paused?"

  "We're still playing," he replies. "We're always playing. Every second of every day. There's never a break. If there's ever a moment when you think the game has stopped, you need to be careful, because that's when it's got so deep under your skin that you don't even notice it anymore. It's everywhere. It's all around. Every street. Every moment. Every person you meet, even if they seem completely random, might be part of the game. Don't let your guard down. If you only remember one thing, Elly, you must remain vigilant at all times. And don't try to hurry things along, because they'll happen at their own pace. I promise".

  Turning to look out the window, I find myself wondering if there's any way I can find out the truth about Mark's past. I don't buy his claim that knowing about his parents would somehow make it harder to understand him; on the contrary, I feel as if it would help if I knew where he'd grown up and how his early years had shaped his life. I mean, it's not normal for people not to know the history of the people they love, and Mark's determination to block my questions is only making me more keen than ever to know the truth about him.

  "Shit," I mutter under my breath, as I suddenly realize that I love Mark. It's crazy, and I should just be focusing on this whole thing as a bit of fun, and as a source of great sex, but I've fallen in love with him. I can't tell him, of course. Not now, at least. Maybe not ever.

  "We're here," he says suddenly, disturbing me from my thoughts.

  Momentarily dazed as the car comes to a halt, I look out the front window and stare at a large, familiar building. It takes a couple of seconds before I realize that we're at Paddington train station.

  "Where are we going?" I ask, turning to Mark.

  "Nowhere," he says with a smile. "We're here to meet someone. Someone you know".

  Jonathan Pope

  1901

  "But when will they announce the news?" asks a gentleman as he stands in the corner of the bar. "Everyone knows Her Majesty has passed away, but it seems that no-one wants to come out and say the words".

  "I'm sure it's Edward's doing," replies his companion. "There'll be all sorts of maneuvering behind the scenes. Best to just let them get on with it and wear themselves out".

  The whole of Westminster is buzzing with the latest gossip about Victoria's health. Most people seem to have accepted that the Queen is dead, but the palace is for some reason holding off on making an official announcement. As I make my way through the foyer, my eyes scanning the crowd for my target, I can't help but think of the chaos that will befall this country once Edward takes to the throne. The man is a fool, and I feel certain that there will be unrest in the north. Perhaps Henrietta and I will be better off away from this place after all.

  After a moment, I spot him up ahead: Harrison Blake, aka Mr. White, talking amiably to some fellow parliamentarians. This is his natural habitat; the corridors of power are home to many such beasts, and while Blake is unlikely to ever become Prime Minister, he is a highly adept political strategist, and his support is valued by all sides. Throughout the land, he is known as the kind of man who could make or break the leadership of those who purport to hold real power. According to rumor, he has already begun to work against the Marquess of Salisbury and is supporting the ambitions of Arthur Balfour. At this precise moment, he's deep in discussions with a number of men, including the notorious plotter Sir Addison Cotteringham.

  "Gentlemen," Blake is saying as I get closer, "there is no need to -" He stops suddenly as he sees me; I recognize a flicker of concern in his eyes, as he realizes that his carefully-constructed facade of honor could come crashing down. After all, I'm one of only a few people in the land who could expose his secret double life.

  "No need to what?" asks Sir Addison.

  "No need to panic," Blake continues, forcing a smile to his lips. "Gentleman, I'd like you to meet an acquaintance of mine, Mr. Jonathan Pope".

  The other men turn and stare at me, and it's clear that they can tell I'm from a lower class.

  "Mr. Pope is a fine orator," Blake continues. "He has some very interesting ideas on the future of the monarchy, and he is very adept at getting those ideas across. You simply must find the time to listen to him speak some time, but..." He pauses for a moment. "I'm surprised to see you here, Mr. Pope. I was unaware that you had access to the parliamentary estate".

  "I don't mean to intrude," I reply, "but I've had a very eventful day and I felt the need for more refined company. Fortunately, it seems I had been added to the entrance list. It seems someone was under the impression that I'm one of your official guests for the day, Mr. Blake".

  "Of course," he says. "You're most welcome". It's clear that he's very uncomfortable with my presence, which is only natural; this is his domain, and he must be horrified to find that I have been able to enter so brazenly. I imagine that a man like Harrison Blake has to keep the two sides of his life very separate; I wonder how his fellow parliamentarians would feel if they knew that, by night, Blake likes to partake in the game?

  "The strangest thing happened to me today," I continue. "I'm afraid I was assaulted in my own home".

  "How dreadful!" says Sir Addison. "Did you catch the swine?"

  I shake my head. "It was a most unusual encounter. It seems someone was trying to deliver a message to me. He failed, of course, and I was rather offended that he thought I would be so easily fooled. I can only hope that I'm able to track the man down and let him know that I don't take kindly to threats, and that my loyalties can't be so easily twisted".

  Although he smiles politely, Blake is clearly very uncomfortable.

  "I don't know what the world is coming to," Sir Addison says. "Quite how a man can be assaulted in the privacy of his own properly, I shall never understand!" He turns to me. "You simply must go to the police and report the incident!"

  "I think not," I reply, fixing Blake with a determined stare. "I'd rather settle things in a direct manner. When two men have a disagreement, should they not resolve things face to face?"

  "You're quite right," Blake replies. "There's no need to involve outside authorities in what is, it seems to me, an entirely private conflict. Perhaps you should track down the man you believe to have been responsible for your experience, and ensure that he knows not to try such a thing again?"

  "Perhaps I should," I reply. "In fact, perhaps I shall go and send him a message right now. Gentlemen, I hope you'll excuse me".

  As I make my way back out into the street, I quickly realize that I'm being followed. Turning, I find that Harrison Blake has followed me into the dull gray afternoon drizzle.

  "Very impressive," he says. "It's not the work of a moment to gain access to these buildings".

  "I have my methods," I reply.

  "You also seem to have certain delusions," he continues. "Don't get me wrong, Pope. I fully understand why you assumed that I was behind whatever happened to you today, but I can assure you that you're mistaken. If I wanted to send you a message, I would have no difficulty in doing so myself. It's simply not my style to send an oaf to do something that I
could do with my own two hands. Surely you realize that?"

  "I realize that desperate men will sometimes resort to desperate measures".

  "And what makes you think that I'm desperate?" He pauses for a moment. "It'll do you no good, Pope, to ignore the truth. I most certainly didn't arrange for anything to happen to you today, and there's only one person I can think of who might choose to do such a thing. I'm not going to name names, but I'd advise you to be careful. We have a mutual friend who is extremely slippery. She can make a man believe whatever she wants, and you wouldn't be the first to have fallen for her charms".

  "You're quite mistaken," I reply.

  "I think not. I've seen the way the pair of you look at one another. There's some kind of dalliance between you, at least from your perspective. Be warned, though, that she's more than capable of twisting your sensibilities and tricking you into believing that she has a heart. She does not. When that woman sheds a tear, it's because she believes it would benefit her to do so. When she accepts a man into her bed, it's because she knows how to control him. She makes him believe that she loves him. She pushes her way into his heart with promises of love, but her own heart is like ice. I know you're not a foolish man, Mr. Pope, so I hope you'll heed my words. Be careful of that woman".

  "I don't need your advice," I say. "I have never been fooled by a woman, and I'm not about to start now".

  He smiles. "I can see it in your eyes. What has she promised you? Love? Happiness? A family? Whatever it is, it's a lie. She's going to lure you into her domain, and then she's going to tear you to pieces. The only thing she cares about is the game, and there's no limit to the number of lives she'll destroy as she seeks victory. I hope you're smart enough to resist the temptations she puts in your way, but if you're not, I can only say that your death will bring me no pleasure".

  I take a deep breath. There's a part of me that would dearly love to plunge a knife into this bastard's heart right now, but at the same time I know that I'd never get away. It would be better to leave him like this, smiling and believing that he has fooled me.

  "Good luck," he says, before turning and walking back into the building.

  Left standing in the rain, I allow myself to consider, just for a moment, what it would be like if Blake's words turned out to be true. However, I simply cannot accept such a possibility. I have looked deep into Henrietta's eyes and I have seen the fear and love in her soul; I have listened to her trembling voice as she talks about the new life that grows, even now, in her belly. I won't allow myself to be fooled by Harrison Blake. Instead, I'll go to Henrietta and tell her that the time has come. We're leaving the country tonight.

  Elly

  Today

  "Jess!" I shout, stunned as I see my best friend from Bristol wandering toward us along the platform. She has a large backpack over her shoulder, and she's grinning as she sees me.

  "Hey, stranger," she says, hugging me as I hurry over to her. "Long time, no see".

  "What are you doing here?" I ask, before glancing back at Mark. He's standing a little way from us, but he's got a curious smile on his face, as if he's pleased with himself for arranging such a huge surprise. "Did you set this up?" I ask him.

  "I might have had something to do with it," he replies.

  "Hi," Jess says, stepping toward Mark and shaking his hand. "Nice to meet you at last".

  "Let me take your bag," Mark replies, and Jess slips her backpack off and hands it to him.

  "Hang on," I say, still shocked to see Jess after so many weeks. "So you and Mark hatched this plan together?"

  "He called and asked if I wanted a trip to London," Jess explains, "all expenses paid. I mean, what's a girl to say? He said you've been having a tough time lately and he wanted to cheer you up". She leans closer and huge me again. "What's wrong, babe? Not pleased to see me?"

  "Of course I am!" I reply, glancing over at Mark. Although I'm genuinely thrilled to see Jess, I can't help wondering why Mark did this. I'd like to believe that he's simply being nice, and that he genuinely cares that I've been feeling a little lost lately, but there's a part of me that keeps thinking back to the conversation we had in the car on the way over here. Is Jess's arrival part of the game? Is this some kind of test?

  "Let me show you to the car," Mark says. "You two must have a lot of catching up to do".

  "The last time I saw you," Jess says, as we start walking across the concourse, heading for the car park, "you were wasted and I was pushing you onto the first train. Fuck, it was about 5am, do you remember? I was so worried about you. I'd have come with you if I'd had the money for a ticket". She smiles. "I thought you'd just be up here for a few days, but now it's been more than a month. Are you just abandoning the rest of us?"

  "No!" I reply, shocked at the suggestion. "It's just..." I pause, realizing that there's so much I need to tell her. At the same time, I don't know how much I want to tell her, or how much I'm allowed to reveal. I've spoken to her on the phone a few times in recent weeks, but I've been intentionally vague about what I'm doing. To suddenly have her here, right in front of me, is kind of shocking. "Things have been complicated," I say eventually. "I've been to Zurich!"

  "Seriously?" She laughs. "When did you become an international jet-setter?"

  "It was kinda eventful," I say, before deciding that maybe I should wait until we've had a few drinks before I tell her the horrific story about Isabella Raynard's fall from the roof. I glance at Mark and see that he's getting quite far ahead of us, which means we should be able to talk without being overheard. Feeling a little twinge of paranoia, I look over my shoulder, just in case we're being watched.

  "Elly?" Jess continues. "Are you okay? You look really pale".

  "I'm fine," I say, stopping suddenly. "It's just... Things are weird around here". I take a deep breath, trying to work out how I can possibly explain all of this. Damn it, why couldn't Mark have warned me that Jess was coming? I needed time to come up with a cover story. "It's just weird," I say eventually. "There's nothing wrong".

  "But you're dating a billionaire," she replies, smiling nervously. "By definition, that's a guy with a whole lot of money. More money than he knows what to do with, I guess. He could buy this whole train station and still have enough money left over for a good night out". She pauses. "Wait, did he earn the money, or did he inherit it?"

  "I don't know," I say weakly.

  "You don't know?"

  "Well -"

  "It's an important distinction. A billionaire who earned his money is one thing, and a billionaire who inherited his money is another. What type have you got?"

  "He earned it," I say, correcting myself quickly. Damn it, the last thing I want is for Jess to realize that I don't know anything about Mark's past. It's going to be hard enough keeping the dirty secrets of the game from her during the weekend, and the last thing I need to do is to start off by making her suspicious. "He started his own company. He earned every penny".

  "Cool. So he's got some drive, yeah? Some get-up-and-go?"

  I nod.

  "So it's a good kind of weird, right?"

  "Yeah," I say. "Well, sometimes. It's more like... Things are strange. I'm not totally sure what I'm even doing here".

  "You're shagging a billionaire, babe".

  I smile, trying not to blush.

  "Don't be ashamed. Be proud! I'd love to find a billionaire. There aren't many of them in Bristol, though. Seriously, if I could find a handsome billionaire to sweep me off my feet, I'd do it. It's the modern fairytale, isn't it? In the old days, girls used to be whisked away by a prince. There aren't any princes these days. Well, there are, but most of them are inbred bastards from Europe, and they're a bunch of little Mummy's boys. No, billionaires are the big catch these days, and you've got one. Don't let him go!"

  "I won't," I say.

  "He seems nice," she says, before a more serious look comes across her face. "Elly, is something wrong? He's not hurting you, is he? Are you happy?"

  "I'm
very happy," I say, even though I'm not sure it's true. "And no, he's not hurting me. It's just that I'm living with him, and things aren't quite normal. I don't know how to explain it. I don't even know if I can. Just try to play along, and at some point we'll get some time alone and I can tell you everything". I pause for a moment. The truth is, I can never tell her everything. Maybe this is part of some big test? Maybe Mark's seeing if I'll blab about the game to Jess? When she arrived a couple of minutes ago, I was so pleased to see her, but now I'm starting to realize that her visit might be a challenge.

  "You're okay, though, right?" she continues. "I don't have to check you for bruises, do I?"

  I shake my head.

  "And he's nice? He's not, like, secretly a bastard or something, is he?"

  I shake my head again.

  "Okay," she says, clearly not convinced. "We'll talk later, okay? We'll get some girly time to just chat about things. I've been busy too, you know. You're not the only one who's got news. Of course, you're the only one who's shacked up with a billionaire..."

  "It's fine," I say, although I'm not sure who I'm trying to reassure. Suddenly I've overcome by the feeling that the game has completely consumed my life. My best friend is here to visit, and I can't properly relax; I can't stop thinking about how the game might be creeping into every moment, and I can't help but be suspicious. Is Mark using Jess to trick me? Or, worse, is Jess somehow part of the game? Did Mark lure her to London and give her money so that she'd help fool me? I feel like there's no-one I can trust in the entire world right now.

  "You can tell me all about it over a cocktail," Jess says, placing a hand on my arm.

  I nod, and finally I force myself to accept that she's being genuine. There's no way Jess would ever take money in order to play tricks on me. The rest of my life might be a storm of chaos and suspicion, but Jess is a solid anchor, a source of stability. Whether he did it by design or by accident, Mark has brought her here just when I need her the most. I just need to stop being suspicious, and I need to start focusing on the positive things.