Broken Blue: The Complete Series

by Amy Cross

  "I can help," he says with an eager smile.

  "No thanks," I reply. "I'd rather just get on with it alone. It'll be faster, and I really want to get home. I'm starving".

  "Well then," he continues, "why don't you let me get you some lunch?"

  "Really," I say, accidentally banging the table with my knee as I stand up. Damn it, I just want to get out of here. "Thanks for the offer, but I'm good. I'll definitely try to come to the King's Arms tonight, though. Just for one drink. Deal?"

  "I guess," he replies, getting to his feet and enveloping me in an unnecessary hug that lasts a little too long. Damn it, he's about as subtle as a brick as he squeezes us together; I almost expect to feel a little bulge in the front of his trousers, but thankfully I'm spared that sensation. "It's good to see you again, Elly," he says, squeezing me tighter. "It's been too long. I've missed you".

  "Me too," I say, finally managing to extract myself from the hug. I haven't missed Rob, of course. In fact, I haven't even thought of him since I left for Bristol three years ago. "See you later," I add, forcing myself to be polite. With that, I turn and hurry out of the cafe. As soon as I'm outside, I walk quickly along the street, convinced that if I look back I'll discover that he's following me. He just has that kind of sad, puppy dog kind of attitude that makes him seem totally desperate. Eventually I summon up the courage to glance over my shoulder, and I see to my immense relief that there's no sign of him and he's at least -

  Suddenly I'm knocked to the ground as a person walks swiftly around the corner and slams into me. I land hard, scraping my hand on the pavement, and it takes a moment before I can work out exactly what happened.

  "Oh God, I'm so sorry," says a female voice. I look up to see a middle-aged woman standing over me, wearing a striking red dress. "I wasn't looking where I was going at all," she continues, reaching down and helping me up. "Totally my fault".

  "I'm fine," I say, feeling a few bruises but nothing too bad. "I wasn't paying attention either. I was looking back".

  "Are you sure you're okay?" she asks, looking worried. "You took a hell of a tumble".

  "Really," I reply, smiling. "I'm totally fine". I look down at my hand and see a small cut, but it's nothing that'll cause a problem.

  "Bullshit," she says. "You're shaken. You simply must let me buy you a drink to make it up to you. I know the most perfect little wine-bar just around the corner. I was heading there anyway. Won't you let me treat you?"

  "It's fine," I say again.

  "One drink," she says with a smile.

  I stare at her. Something about this situation feels kind of strange, but I guess maybe she's just being a little over-friendly. "It's not necessary," I say, "there's no -"

  "Please," she says. "Even if it doesn't make you feel better, it'd make me feel a million times less guilty. I mean, I was walking so fast, I could have broken your neck".

  I sigh. To be honest, the idea of having a random drink with a random stranger is... actually kind of appealing. Anything to get out of going straight home, and I guess I can just tell my mother that there were loads of queues in all the shops. Realizing that I could use a good drink after the boredom of my conversation with Rob, I decide I might as well accept the woman's offer. I mean, she can't be more boring than Rob, can she? "Sure," I say. "If you insist".

  "I do," she replies. "Totally. My name's Alice, by the way". She reaches out a hand for me to shake. "I promise, I don't go around bumping into people all the time. I'm usually so careful". Taking me by the arm, she leads me back along the street. This is certainly not how I expected my trip into town to develop, but to be honest I feel kind of liberated. Anything's better than running endless errands for my mother, or sitting in a cafe with Rob, and at least this way I get to talk to someone who has no idea that my father died. In some strange way, this feels like the perfect distraction from everything that's been going on lately. Still, it's pretty weird to see how keen Alice is to hang out. If I didn't know better, I'd swear this feels like a set-up.

  Three

  1895

  "Salisbury is a fool," says Sir Henry Constantine as we walk down the steps outside the club. "He thinks the world will take no notice as our naval power is diminished. He thinks Russia and France will stand by and watch as we turn our attention elsewhere, but he is mistaken". Turning to me, Sir Henry raises his cane in the air as if to reinforce his point, almost taking my eye out in the process. "Mark my words, Edward. We shall be overrun within the year unless we reinforce our position within Europe!"

  "Salisbury won't win the election," adds Sir Addison Cotteringham, who has followed us out to the street. "The old man will be irrelevant by autumn".

  "We need our fleet to remain strong!" Sir Henry roars, turning to him and swinging his cane through the air in such a fashion that Sir Addison has to duck out of the way. "The next generation will curse our names if we allow our greatest strength to be undermined".

  "Perhaps," Sir Addison says, turning to me with a smile. "But maybe we should ask someone younger than ourselves. What do you think, Edward? Is a strong naval force still the cornerstone of the British Empire?"

  I open my mouth to reply, but then I realize that I can't win. If I agree with Sir Henry and argue in favor of a strong naval capability, I will be seen as a brown-nosing supplicant; on the other hand, if I agree with Sir Addison and acknowledge that times are changing, I will be seen as a naive and ignorant neophyte. "I'm sure things will sort themselves out," I say, immediately realizing how feeble I sound. "I have great faith in Mr. Gladstone -"

  "Gladstone!" Sir Henry says, as if I have driven a dagger through his heart. "Oh Lord, that man is the only one who actually makes Salisbury look sensible!"

  "Then it seems no-one in Westminster can satisfy you," I reply. "Perhaps you should run for Prime Minister yourself".

  "Don't think I haven't given the matter some thought," Sir Henry replies as he puts on his gloves, ready to climb up into his carriage. "I'd do a damn sight better than the fools in power at the moment. I should certainly -" He pauses as something catches his eye along the street. "Good Lord," he says, squinting, "am I imagining things, or is there a woman running toward us?"

  Turning, I see that he's right: a woman is indeed running in our direction. She looks to be wearing rather fine clothes, but she has the general manner of someone who has lost her mind, and I see with some alarm that she is coming straight toward me. No sooner have I thought to react, than she is upon us and - without pause - she grabs my arms and starts to shake me violently.

  "Where is she?" the woman screams, tears running down her face. "What have you done to her?"

  Trying to pull myself free, I look over at Sir Henry and Sir Addison for help, but of course they just stand and stare.

  "What is the meaning of this?" Sir Henry shouts.

  "I have no idea who this woman is," I splutter, still trying to extricate myself from her grip.

  "Where is she?" the woman screams, clearly losing all control of her faculties.

  "I have never seen you before in my life!" I say to her. "Now unhand me at once!"

  "Not until you tell me where she is!" the woman shouts. "If she's dead, at least tell me where I can find her body! I don't even need to know what you did to her, but please God tell me where I can find her body!" With that, she drops to her knees and starts weeping uncontrollably, while still clinging to my arms.

  "How extraordinary!" Sir Henry says, dumbfounded. He steps forward and uses his cane to try swatting the woman away. "Get out of here!" he shouts. "Shoo!"

  "I can assure you," I say, as I see a policeman hurrying toward us, "I have never seen this woman before in my life, and I have no idea what she is talking about".

  "Arrest this woman!" Sir Henry says to the policeman. "She is quite insane".

  "Come on, M'am," the policeman says, trying and failing to pull the woman away from me. "These gentlemen are just trying to go about their business without being harassed".

  "He to
ok her!" the woman shouts, pointing directly at me. Tears are rolling down her face and she looks to be in a terrible state. "This man took my daughter away! She's gone!"

  "I have no idea what she's talking about," I say to the policeman. "Can you please get her to leave us alone?"

  Using a little more force than I would have thought necessary, the policeman grabs the woman by her shoulders and drags her away from me. Weeping and morning, she continues to stare at me. "He took my Sophia and now she's dead!" she shouts. "He won't even tell me where he's put her body! I saw her go away with him last week and she hasn't been home since! Make him tell me where she is!"

  "I'm sorry, Sir," the policeman says, obviously rather distressed by the situation. "I'll get her out of here. I imagine she has escaped from one of the mental asylums nearby".

  "My name is Geraldine Marchant!" the woman shouts. "My husband is Sir Robert Marchant, the industrialist! I just want my daughter to come home! Make this man tell me where she is!"

  "This is all nonsense to me," I say, my heart racing. "I have never heard of this woman before, or her daughter".

  "I can prove it!" the woman shouts. "I can prove that this man was the last person to see my poor dear Sophia alive. I have sworn statements from three separate people who saw them together on the night she disappeared".

  Fortunately, the police officer drags the woman away, clearly under the impression that she has lost her mind. However, I cannot help but feel that this particular problem will come back to haunt me; after all, it is entirely understandable that a woman would seek to uncover the truth about her missing daughter.

  "The state of the world today is shocking," Sir Henry says, standing next to me as we watch the police officer attempt to restrain Mrs. Marchant. "That a woman would think she has the right to assault an upstanding gentleman in the middle of the street is absolutely unthinkable. I cannot possibly imagine what she was going through her mind".

  "Women are emotionally unstable," Sir Addison suggests. "It's been proven, I'm sure. They simply can't handle the emotional complexities of the modern world, and it's getting worse. As life becomes faster and more complicated, women can't handle the extra stresses and strains". He turns to me, as if he's expecting me to agree with him. "Sometimes I fear that we shall eventually have to confine women to the home more fully," he continues, "so that they are not exposed to all this difficulty. Let the men deal with important matters, because we're the ones who are more able to do so. It's simple science".

  "Do you really believe that?" I ask, a little shocked to find myself face to face with such a neanderthal.

  "I do!" he says proudly. "Are you one of those men, Edward, who likes to make himself feel better by pretending that women are our equals?"

  "I believe women are our equals," I say calmly.

  "Then explain this mess," he replies, turning to watch as Mrs. Marchant is dragged away by the police officer. Sobbing hysterically, she struggles to break free from his grasp.

  "I cannot," I say quietly. In truth, I am finding it hard to fathom how the woman managed to track me down. I am always very careful to ensure that the families of these girls do not know my name, so how did Sophia's mother find me? I can't help but wonder whether some other force is behind this development; another force that perhaps aims to destabilize my position within the game. Could it be the case that Lady Red, having obtained the services of a new Mr. White, now seeks to bring about my downfall? It seems that perhaps the nature of the game is changing.

  Four

  Today

  "People are complicated," Alice says as we sit in the restaurant. She's bought me a huge lunch, and we've been sharing a bottle of wine. I keep glancing at my watch, aware that I'm running way behind on my list of things to do, but Alice is a lot of fun and I kind of don't want to leave. Not yet, anyway. She's has this air of effortless sophistication, and I feel kind of excited just being in her presence. "The thing with people," she continues, "is that they're not consistent. Don't waste time trying to understand another human being, because everyone has inconsistencies. The trick is to allow yourself wriggle-room, so that you don't get blindsided by someone changing their mind every ten seconds".

  I take a sip from my glass of wine. "You make it sound as if life is a game," I tell her.

  "Well, I -" She pauses, staring at me for a moment. I get the feeling that behind her effervescent personality, there's a brilliant mind churning. "That's a very perceptive comment," she continues, "and you're absolutely correct, life is a game. Some people recognize that fact and play, and others never cotton on and end up living their entire lives as pawns". She pauses again. "Tell me something. How did you come to this conclusion that life is a game? Did someone tell you?"

  "Not really," I say with a shrug. "I've just noticed. There are rules, and you can win or lose. Stuff like that. It applies to everything, really. School's a game. Love's a game. Friendship's a game -"

  "And sex?" she asks suddenly. "Is sex a game?"

  "I guess," I reply, feeling as if the conversation is turning into more of an interview. "Like I said, everything's a game". I take another sip of wine. "I'm not saying that's how I want it to be, and I'm not saying I'm very good at it, 'cause I'm not, but I think it's true". I take a deep breath, waiting for Alice to say something, but she just seems to be observing me. She has this really curious smile on her face, almost as if she's proud of me in some way. If this was an interview, I'd be feeling pretty confident by now. "Sorry," I say eventually, "I didn't mean to start getting into all this kind of stuff".

  "It's fine," she says. "I'm just surprised. It's not often that I meet someone who shares my views on life. It's very promising; very promising indeed".

  "Promising?"

  She pauses. "For you, I mean. It makes me think you've got a handle on the way the world works. You won't go through life as everybody else's doormat". She smiles. "You're stronger than you look, aren't you?"

  "Don't I look strong?" I ask.

  Laughing, she reaches across and pats my shoulder. "It's always so hard to tell," she says, "but one has to ask these questions, doesn't one? Like you so astutely put it, honey, life is a game. Or perhaps it's more like lots and lots of little games, all spinning around and butting into one another? It's no wonder the world is so chaotic".

  We sit and talk some more, and time goes past so fast that suddenly I check my watch and realize it's almost 3pm. My mother's going to get home in a few hours, and she'll want to know what I've done all day. Although there's a part of me that would like to sit here and talk to Alice some more, I figure I need to get on with my errands. At the same time, I feel that Alice and I really connect with each other, so I figure we might be able to stay in touch. Explaining my need to get going to Alice, I'm relieved to find that she understands completely, and she quickly settles the bill before we head out into the cold mid-afternoon London street.

  "I've really enjoyed talking to you today, Elly," Alice says, buttoning up her red coat. "Maybe I should bump into people and knock them over more often".

  "I can give you my number," I say with a smile. "If you want to -"

  "Oh, that's okay," she says dismissively. "I don't live around here anyway. But it's been very nice to meet you, Elly, and I wish you all the best in your future". She reaches over and gives me a hug, and then a kiss on the cheek. "Don't let your father's death get you down, honey. It's sad, but life has to move on. Don't get too blue about the whole thing". With that, she turns and walks away. I'm left standing and watching as she disappears around the corner, and feeling a little confused by the fact that she didn't want to get my number or stay in touch. Sighing, I realize that she was probably just being polite when she said she enjoyed having lunch with me. The weird thing, though, is that I swear I didn't tell her about my father's death, but I guess I must have accidentally slipped it into the conversation at some point, otherwise how could she have known?

  Two hours later, and loaded down with various shopping bags, I fi
nally get back to my mother's house. I'm totally exhausted and, to be honest, the last thing I want right now is to have to face my mother's incessant questions. She's the kind of person who always wants to know where I've been, and what I've been doing, and why I was doing it; she'll also want a receipt for every single thing she asked me to buy, and then she'll assiduously total up what she owes me so that she can pay me the exact amount, not a penny more and not a penny less. Fortunately, as soon as I get through the front door, I realize that the house is cold and empty, which means she hasn't got home yet. Feeling a sense of relief, but also knowing that it won't last, I go through to the kitchen and put everything away, before making a cup of tea and finally getting a chance to relax. Today has been crazy, and I'm still trying to get my head around everything that happened with Alice. Something about her just seemed a little 'off', and I can't help feeling that the whole encounter seemed a little... fake.

  I'm so completely lost in my own thoughts, I don't immediately notice when the doorbell rings; it's only when it rings for a second time that I realize I need to get up and see who's there. Putting my tea down, I hurry through to the hallway, open the door and come face to face with the last person I expected to see.

  "Hi," Mark says.

  "Hi," I reply, totally shocked. It hasn't been much more than a day since I last saw Mark Douglas and, although he certainly made an impression on me, I never really expected to see him again. "My mother's not home right now," I continue. "I don't really know where she is".

  "That's okay," he says, a little awkwardly. "I just came to give you these". He hands me a small envelope. "It's some more of your father's things from the office. The cleaner found them when she moved his desk, and I figured maybe you and your mother would like them".