Sebastian - Dark Bonds

by Janey Rosen

  Sebastian has driven back up from Cornwall and I am so glad he is coming with me. At the General Office we are guided to a private waiting area while we wait for a staff member to collect us. A short plump mortuary technician appears in hospital scrubs and shakes our hands. He has a well practiced empathy and gentle voice. He leads us down to the bowels of the hospital to the mortuary reception area, where he politely asks us to take a seat while he checks if Joe is ready.

  I’m gripping Sebastian’s hand tightly and he strokes my hair from my eyes with his free hand then kisses me lightly on the forehead.

  “Be strong my darling,” he whispers.

  The plump technician returns and tells us that Joe is ready and to follow him but my legs are suddenly leaden, and I find it incredibly difficult to put one foot in front of the other.

  My mouth is dry and parched, and beads of perspiration are forming on my forehead, and I feel as though I can’t breathe. A panic attack. Sebastian is so in tune with me that he immediately detects my fright and steadies me. “Deep, slow breaths Elizabeth. Look at me.”

  I raise my eyes to his and focus on what he is telling me.

  “Slowly in and slowly out. Good girl. Now, you can do this darling. I’m here with you ok?”

  The plump man hands me a paper cup of water and I drain it then hand the empty cup back. Plump man tosses it into a waste bin and opens a blue door. Sebastian and I follow him down an artificially lit corridor. He opens the second door on the right and I take a deep breath as I enter, clutching Snuggly and the bright football shirt under my arm.

  It’s a beautiful room, quite out of place in this vast clinical building. The walls are papered with an elegant gold patterned paper and the carpet is a deep blue. There are candles, which I can see are not real flame but battery powered imitations but the soft glow is calming and the gentle piped music almost uplifting.

  In the center of the small elegant room lies my son. Asleep.

  Joe looks so little, that it’s hard to believe he’s seven years old, nearly eight. He never will be eight now of course.

  I lift his lifeless little arm and tuck Snuggly tightly against him under his armpit, so that Snuggly’s head is looking up at Joe and my son now looks even younger with his worn and much loved little bear tucked up cosily with him. I brush my lips over Joe’s hair and kiss his forehead, and he smells clean and fresh but it is a very different smell to the usual aroma of apple shampoo I am used to. I stroke his hair gently, but withdraw my fingers sharply when they touch the ridges and bumps that are now mapped across his scalp.

  Sebastian kisses Joe too, very lightly on his right brow and I see a tear tumble down my lover’s cheek.

  “Sleep well little guy,” he whispers to Joe and I crumble into his arms.

  4

  Day nine, and I’m expecting Detective Inspector Chambers and his side kick once more. I’m growing weary of their visits and increasingly impatient to have Joe released to me. I’m hopeful that today will be the day that this happens.

  Ruth is with me and it’s good to see my dear friend. She distracts me with humorous tales of our staffs’ antics and does her very best to bring some cheer to our deathly quiet house while we wait for the police officers’ arrival. Sebastian left early this morning for an estate meeting at Penmorrow, with the promise of returning in two days time and I miss him already. I was so was glad when Ruth arrived unannounced this morning. Punctually at eleven fifteen, the two police officers arrive.

  “Detective Inspector, this is my dear friend and business partner, Ruth Evenshaw. Ruth, this is Detective Inspector Chambers and WPC Viney.”

  They shake hands and I lead us to the lounge, where Ruth sits next to me on the sofa while the two officers take the armchairs.

  “Mrs. Dove” says the detective.

  “Beth,” I correct him.

  “Beth. Thank you. Can you tell me please, if either yourself or your husband have ever been prescribed anti-depressants?”

  The question takes me by surprise.

  “We’ve both been stressed, yes. Not depressed.” I reply.

  “So, neither of you have ever taken, or had possession of, a medicine called Benzodiazepine? It may be a pill called Diazepam, Flurazepam, Chlordiazepoxide…?” he reads from his notebook.

  I shake my head and again tell him, “no. We’ve never been prescribed any of those medicines to the best of my knowledge.”

  “That’s what your GP says too, but I had to check. You never know these days. People can buy all sorts on the streets if they have a mind to. Benzo’s aren’t as widely used these days because of the contra-indications and side effects but some Psychiatrists still prescribe it.”

  I’m astounded and affronted that the officer has questioned our doctor, but I also know that it’s his job to be thorough, and anything that will free my Joe from the hospital is ok by me.

  DI Chambers reads from his notebook,

  “We’ve eh, had the autopsy and toxicology reports back.”

  I’m filled with trepidation.

  “It seems your husband took a cocktail of alcohol and pills before he died Beth but, although they were a toxic dose, they weren’t a lethal dose. In a nutshell Beth, the booze and pills didn’t cause the deaths of Alan and Joe, but they would certainly have impaired his reactions and judgment. It seems your husband had a few too many whiskies, managed to get some anti-depressants from somewhere, popped a couple then made the very grave mistake of driving. Where he obtained the pills is a line of enquiry the WPC here will follow up. Can’t have those sort of pills rattling around somewhere if you get my drift.”

  I wonder if Mike has such medicine at home although it seems unlikely, as he’s a very jovial man.

  He’s studying me and it unnerves me.

  “I’m sorry, how rude of me. Would you like a cup of tea or coffee, officers?” I ask, looking from one to the other.

  “No thank you. We won’t keep you any longer than necessary,” the DI replies, before returning to his notebook.

  “Ok,” I say quietly. “Will you let me know if and when you find out where he got those pills?”

  “Yes, will do,” he replies, watching me intensely.

  “The coroner is releasing the bodies you’ll be relieved to know. There won’t be an inquest. He’s recording it as accidental death.”

  This news hits me like a tornado and lifts my spirits swirling high. The relief is immeasurable and I can’t hold back the tears.

  The two police officers exchange glances but, although the detective looks uncomfortable by my emotional outburst, the WPC leans forward and lays a comforting hand on my knee. Ruth puts her arm around my shoulder comfortingly.

  The crucial thing is that we can lay Alan and Joe to rest, and my thoughts turn to Heart brothers and the call I must make when the officers leave.

  “So, that’s it?” I ask, dabbing at my eyes with a tissue and blowing my nose. “We can bury them?”

  “Yes. That’s it for now,” he replies. “If we hear anything further, we’ll be back in touch.”

  “Thank you. It means so much that we can lay them to rest.” I tell them.

  The officers shake our hands as they leave and, closing the front door behind them, I collapse into Ruth’s arms.

  When Ruth leaves, I call Dora and Brian to tell them the news, and then call Sebastian.

  “Beth, what a relief that must be for you,” his voice is so soothing.

  “It means no more waiting, Sebastian. Finally, we can say goodbye to them.”

  “Would you like me to drive back? I can be there by early evening.” I’m touched by Sebastian’s thoughtfulness and support.

  “No, darling. Go to your meeting. I’m fine, honestly. It’s just so good to hear your voice.”

  “Yours too. Have you eaten?” he asks, concern in his voice.

  “No I can’t eat, my stomach is in knots.”

  “You must eat,” he scolds.

  “Yes, Sebastian. I will eat. I miss
you.”

  “I miss you too. Let me know what the arrangements are for the funerals. I’ll be there – or not – whatever you think appropriate,” he says.

  “Will do. I love you,” I blow a kiss down the phone to him.

  “Go and eat,” he says again, as he cuts the call.

  5

  It was a beautiful and moving service. I could not speak about Joe or Alan to the congregation as I was too emotional, but Nathan, Ruth and Mike all said a lovely piece about their lives and there was not a dry eye in the church. Now stood beside my son’s little grave, I’m throwing a yellow rose down on to Joe’s small coffin, and I smile ruefully at the bright red color of the wood and the Manchester United football club emblem painted on the lid. My little football fan inside, in his red football shirt and black shorts and his freshly cleaned pair of football boots, would be proud. He is clutching his Snuggly and a signed photograph of his football team heroes thanks to the local ‘Dorset Standard’ newspaper. They reported the accident and Joe’s love of the team, and subsequently the club sent the photo with a moving tribute written on the reverse to their number one fan. He would have loved to show that off to his friends at school, some of who had come today with their parents. It was very moving when the youngsters had come to the front of the church with their mothers, and each lit a candle for Joe.

  I had asked Sebastian to stay away, but I’m missing him and needing him now more than ever, and it occurs to me that I am becoming increasingly dependent upon him for support and company.

  Bella has been so strong, but I’m concerned that she’s not letting her grief run it’s natural course. She seems more introverted, and even Chloe seems incapable of getting Bella to talk about her father and brother.

  My mother has given me the telephone number of a bereavement counselor, and I make a mental note to call her tomorrow although I suspect Bella will refuse to open up to a stranger.

  It gives me great comfort and strength to have Joe’s friends and mine, and Alan’s family to our house after the funeral, although it’s with a heavy heart that I note Brian’s absence. He did not utter a word to me in the church, and the arrangements were left to Dora, Sarah and I to make without his input. Dora says he just needs time. Part of the grieving process is anger, and when he moves past that stage he will see that the accident was not my fault. She confided in me yesterday that she had, for some time, been worried about Alan’s drinking and she told me that Brian has always liked his whisky and so did his father before him, so it is a family weakness. Not my fault. Why do I feel so damned guilty then?

  “Beth love.” Mike puts an arm around my waist and kisses my cheek. “You know that I’m always here for you and Bella. Alan would’ve wanted…you know… for me to look out for his girls.” His eyes are red and puffy. He has always been such a good friend to Alan and I.

  Mike and I are joined by Robert, who used to work with Alan until recent months. Robert tells me he’s so very sorry for my loss, and I squeeze his arm and tell him that Alan always talked very highly of him.

  “Don’t know why you two didn’t work out Beth. I guess we all do things, meet new people who we think are gonna offer us more. Then, you know, the grass isn’t greener and all that…” I’m at a loss to understand what Robert is trying to say to me, and I presume the red wine he’s sipping is fogging his brain. “She was a looker alright Beth but not a patch on you love, he loved you ya know… not her, he didn’t love her.”

  I will not calm down. Mike is scratching incessantly at the back of his neck and shrugging, trying to tell me that he has no idea what Robert was referring to. Or whom. Everyone has gone home now but I have demanded that Mike stay behind so that I can quiz him further.

  “She was a looker. He loved me, but he didn’t love her. Who, Mike, who?” I demand despite the hypocrisy of the situation, after all I was seeing Sebastian. But that is not the point here. I’m being blamed I know, by all and sundry for Alan leaving and yet it seems he was enjoying liaisons of his own with another woman.

  “Ok look, he started seeing someone. I only saw her once Beth honestly. I don’t know how they met but she picked him up from the house once, in a big 4 x 4 car and I could see she wasn’t at all his type. Younger, you know? Bit flighty and provocatively dressed.” I have heard enough. After the emotions of today, all I want to do is fall into bed and block out the images I now have in my head of my dead husband’s betrayal.

  6

  The last few weeks have been the worst weeks of my life. I can’t seem to concentrate on my business, and I’m growing tired of the pitied expressions on my staffs’ faces at work. One very positive piece of news, is that Alan’s life insurance company have agreed to pay out on his life policy. This means that in excess of one hundred thousand pounds will be arriving in my bank account some day soon.

  It’s a cool, crisp Friday morning in late April and I’m at work, busying myself with monthly management accounts. My mind frequently wanders to thoughts of Sebastian and of the wonderful weekends we spend together. In just a few short hours he’ll be arriving, waiting for me after work. He’s spent a couple of weekends with Bella and I in Dorset.

  I have not been to Penmorrow since Christmas, and that seems a lifetime ago. It just seems easier for him to drive to us, than for Bella and I to face the long drive to Cornwall. Recalling our weekends together leads me to daydream once again about our passionate nights. When I close my eyes I can feel the feather light touch of his fingertips on my skin.

  “Hey you!” Ruth bounds in to my office with her insurmountable energy and I blush deeply, hoping she doesn’t notice. “I have a fantastic suggestion and you simply must say yes.” She has my attention. “With the insurance payment I want you to take a few months off work. Get entirely away from the business Beth, and let me run it. You know I am more than capable so I really want you to bugger off” she teases.

  “Where would we go, Bella and I, if we did clear off somewhere?” I ask. The idea of taking a holiday without Alan or Joe was not something I could entertain and to go away with Sebastian would be incredibly insensitive for Alan’s parents and sister, so soon after the accident.

  Ruth raises her eyebrow the irritating way she does when she wants to say something but doesn’t dare.

  “It’s just a thought Beth, but why don’t you take Bella to Cornwall?” The resulting expression on my face shows the shock and surprise at Ruth’s suggestion.

  “Hear me out Beth,” she continues regardless. “You and Sebastian get on really well, he’s been a rock for you these past few weeks. I imagine it’s pretty laid back down in the sticks and you could do with the company. Why don’t you take up painting or rambling or whatever they do down there. Just go away and forget about the business, take some you time.”

  I shake my head incredulously. She makes it sound so easy, so simple to run away to Penmorrow, but I know how difficult it will inevitably be to convince Bella to leave her friends and come away with me. Although, she has become close to Sebastian and he clearly cares for her. Some time in the country may not be such a ludicrous idea after all and I have missed that old house… I have even missed Scarlett who sent a beautiful card to Bella and I after the accident.

  “You know what Ruth, my darling friend, perhaps we will go. You must promise to call me regularly and let me know of any problems at work. And don’t make any big decisions without me!” We hug and I’m so thankful for Ruth’s friendship. Now I need to think through the plan, and decide how best to approach this decision with Bella.

  My mobile phone pings. I glance at the screen and see displayed, the first two lines of the message.

  Hi sexy Rosie. You never did call me. How about that 2nd date? Si

  Oh shit! I thought he’d taken the hint weeks ago! So much has happened since Simon and I spent an illicit afternoon and his message is not welcome. I decide not to reply in the hope that he takes the hint.

  My packed lunch is open on my desk and I’m busily studying financi
al information while munching on a chicken sandwich, when my office door opens.

  “Have you got lunch Ruth?” I ask without looking up.

  “Oh I’ve got a feast, Elizabeth.” Sebastian leans against the doorframe, arms crossed drinking me in.

  “Sebastian!” Leaping up from my chair, I throw myself into his muscular arms.

  “Why didn’t you call and say you’d be arriving early?” It’s so wonderful to see him. He kisses my hair and hugs me tightly, not wanting to let me free of his embrace.

  “I wanted to surprise my girl. Good to see you’re eating for a change,” he remarks, as he lifts my chin and gazes into my eyes with a dark, sultry stare.

  “Plus, I wanted to check up on my investment.” Pushing me back at arms length, he eyes my body with an appreciative sigh and a dangerous look in his eyes.

  “Fine,” I say haughtily, cocking my eyebrow, “the figures are on my desk.”

  “Are they, Mrs. Dove? First I’d like to check the figure in front of me. Turn around.” I do as he asks, giggling, feeling the sexual charge between us.

  His hands slip around my waist, and he pulls me close, my back snugly against his front. His waiting erection presses into the small of my back. Grinding my ass harder against him teasingly, he sucks in his breath and cups my breast.

  “Be very careful, Elizabeth or I may be forced to take action against you which could be construed as sexual harassment,” he warns, his voice raspy and sexy.

  “I have no idea to what you’re referring,” my innocent butter-wouldn’t-melt reply earns me a hard slap on the buttock.

  “Sebastian. Someone might see us.” Aware that my gossip-hungry staff would relish our sideshow, I push the door closed and sit down at my desk.

  He perches on the edge of my desk, arms folded, and I can’t take my eyes off the vast erection straining against the fly of his trousers.