A Note & a Letter

The lighthouse proved to be a bit of a disappointment. It was white, short and stubby. There were the remains of the lighthouse keeper's cottage, now empty and derelict since the lighthouse had been long ago automated and the keeper gone.

Parking the car near the lighthouse they got out and walked to the ocean side of the point. Great waves came heaving in, building up as they approached the cliff then thundering against the rocks to roll back to be caught up in the next incoming wave.

Beyond the point Glen could see the tips of the rocks Sarah had mentioned, the sea foaming over them.

"They're completely covered at high tide," Sarah yelled above the thunder of the turmoil below them. "I'll show you the bay."

They walked to the inland side of the Point and about a couple of hundred metres from the Point there was the bay. It looked innocent enough. There were no remains of the hell on earth it had once been and consisted of a beach about four hundred metres long flanked by two short spurs of rock jutting out to sea.

Glen could see why this place had been chosen. Running from inland and down onto the beach was a fresh water creek, its thin stream of water emptying into the sea.

The thunder from the ocean side could still be heard, but the waters of the bay were quiet.

"Would you like to go down?" asked Sarah, "there's a sort of path but you have to be careful."

They made their way down the narrow path until they reached the beach. Fred rushed off into the water, apparently chasing imaginary fish. Sarah and Glen walked to one side of the bay and sat on some rocks. Perhaps because he had been told the story, or maybe there does linger on in places the atmosphere of the deeds that have been done there, Glen felt that the place had a sinister ambience.

For a while they sat in silence, and then Sarah said, "Can you feel it?"

"What?"

"This place, it's evil."

"Yes, it is."

Sarah gave a little shriek and Glen, startled, turned to look at her.

"Look," she whispered, and there in a niche in the rock just behind her stood a small fairy penguin, staring fixedly.

"Well, something doesn't mind living here," said Glen.

They sat looking at the little creature for a few minutes, the Sarah said, "The poor thing is probably terrified of us, let's go."

They went back along the beach and climbed the cliff path. Wandering over to the lighthouse they sat at its base for a while, looking out over the sea and listening to it thundering against the cliffs.

Fred continued his olfactory researches. Glen had his own olfactory interest. He had noticed in the car, and now, with Sarah sitting close to him, there it was again, that delicate fragrance of roses.

He remembered the heavy perfume Rosemary had worn and which, she assured him, drove men into a sexual frenzy. Someone had told him it was extracted from pigs. He didn't know the truth or falsity of this but he had often found it cloying rather than sexually arousing.

Sarah's perfume didn't arouse him sexually either, and yet it did arouse something in him. He tried to find a word to describe what it was. This little pixie sitting beside him, and even though he knew she was not, she looked so fragile, and her perfume seemed to be just right for her, light and delicate. That was it, she was light and delicate.

He didn't want to be sexually aroused by her or anyone and his feelings regarding Sarah were something like those he had for Trish. Trish had cared when he was in deep distress; then this pixie with her warmth and smile had in little more than a day brought a ray of light into his dark world.

There was an air of innocence about her that was not born of stupidity for she was obviously intelligent, but arose from some inner goodness that after Rosemary he had come to believe did not exist. "Yes," he thought, "she is a healer, a better healer than I am, and she is probably completely unaware of it."

Sarah glanced at her watch and said, "We must be getting back or mum will have to get started on her own."

Arriving back at the pub Steve said, "Trish rang wanting to know how you are. She'd like you to return the call."

Since his room did not have a telephone in it, he was shown to what was called "The office," a small room equipped with desk, computer and telephone. He rang Trish's number and when she answered asked him how he was feeling.

"Not too bad. Ron was right; the place is doing me some good. I almost feel ready to come back to work."

"So soon, good God Glen, you haven't been there two days yet; there must be something in the air. Doctor's orders, you stay there for at least a week…better still, two weeks."

Glen laughed and said, "Yes, there is something in the air, a pixie fragrance."

"A pixie fragrance! What are you talking about Glen?"

"I've met a little pixie dressed in green."

"Yes, and we've got fairies at the bottom of our garden; have you gone round the bend? What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about your niece."

"Oh, Sarah; she's lovely isn't she, but why fragrance?"

"She wears a very delicate perfume."

There was a pause and then Trish said, "Careful Glen, she's very young and you're very vulnerable."

"Don't worry Trish, it's not like that and she's got a bloody great dog to protect her and a father and brother who look capable of breaking your neck with one hand."

"Glen, I've got some news but I don't know how you'll take it."

"Just tell me."

"Well, I thought I should at least make contact with Rosemary, after all, no matter how reprehensible she's been she's still a human being. I rang her and got no answer, so I kept ringing at intervals and still got no answer. I went to the house and it was all shut up."

"Gone away has she?"

"Yes, but that's not all. You know those friends of yours, Alan and Stephanie Fossy?"

"Yes, what about them?" Glen thought he knew what was coming and felt his stomach knot.

"Stephanie came to see me professionally. She was in a hell of a state. Alan's left her with the two kids. She told me he'd gone off with Rosemary, but that isn't all. The bank is after him; something to do with missing money."

Glen felt sick and asked, "Is there anything I can do? Should I come and see Stephanie?"

"I don't think that would be a good idea at this stage. There's nothing you can do that we can't handle here, and it would only be the two of you wallowing in each other's misery. I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but I thought you ought to know."

"Yes…yes, you were right to tell me. I don't think it does much good delaying bad news; better to get it over and done with."

"Is it done with, Glen?"

"I don't think there was any way back for Rosemary and me, and even if there was I don't think I'd want to take it. Going off with Alan only puts the seal on it. Of course, you've no idea where they are?"

"No, and if I did the bank would love to know."

"God, what a mess he's got himself into, even knowing what Rosemary is like; that she's anybodies…he must have been out of his mind."

"It gets some people like that. They become totally infatuated and do the most insane things. They'll get him in the end and that'll mean jail, and what happens to Rosemary then?"

"Easy, she finds another guy to shack up with."

"Possibly; how are you feeling after that lot?"

"A bit sick, but I'll be okay. I didn't think Alan would be so stupid, but it hasn't hit me like the time I first learned about Rosemary."

"You stay at Rascals Point and enjoy the pixie fragrance and sea air. I'll be in touch, especially if I get any more news."

"Thanks Trish, you're a real…a true friend."

"Give my love to them all."

"I'll do that, bye."

"Bye."

Glen put down the receiver and sat for a moment trying to absorb the news. He was surprised that he did not feel more distraught. He still could not accept the advice, "Forget it and move on," but it was as if a line had been drawn under his relationship with Rosemary and feeling this he also felt relieved.

He wondered about Alan going off with a woman he knew was promiscuous, and then recalled how throughout history there had been people like that. They become totally besotted and would risk anything to be with the object of their infatuation, even when the liaison might mean death.

Trish had said, "They'll get him in the end." "If he's had his hand in the bank till they probably will," Glen thought, "I wonder what he'll think about in jail; will it be Rosemary or the wife and children he's deserted?"

"Lunch."

A smiling Sarah broke into his gloomy reverie.

He tried to return her smile and followed her to the dining room to eat.

He didn't feel much like eating and had an urge to get out and breathe the clean sea air again. He decided that he couldn't impose on Sarah's time further that day, but he had an idea.

He didn't feel like tackling the hills tracks that day, so he asked, "Could I take Fred for a walk this afternoon?"

"I'm sure he'd love it," Sarah replied; "Two outings in quick succession would be a luxury for him. Where are you thinking of going?"

"Oh, I just thought I'd stroll to the end of the town then come back along the beach."

"In that case he'll need to be on the lead when you go through the town. He'd be perfectly all right without it, but the local bye-laws insist. I'll give you a crash course on words of command and hand signals."

After lunch Glen was given his crash course; Sarah put Fred's collar and lead on and told him to be good, and Glen set off with Fred. For as long as Sarah remained in sight Fred kept hesitating and looking back at her, as if expecting her to join them, but once out of sight he seemed to accept the inevitable.

Sarah had asked Glen to let Fred carry out his sniffing researches because, as she pointed out, "That's part of the fun for him."

People in the town recognised Fred, and would pat him, look curiously at Glen, and then ask Fred, "Where's Sarah today?"

Fred took these acts of recognition as his due, and Glen would answer on his behalf, explaining why he was walking the dog. Of course he did not give the real reason which was, that having Fred with him he felt that he had a little bit of Sarah also.

They got to the end of the town and Glen sat for a while and as some people do, he began to talk to the dog.

"You're a lovely boy, aren't you?"

The stumpy tail went, wag, wag.

"You've got a lovely owner too."

Wag, wag.

"I expect you love her a lot?"

Wag, wag.

"Yes, I can understand that."

Wag, wag.

An elderly couple walked by and looked at Glen as if he were slightly deranged talking to a dog, and then talked to Fred themselves.

"Hello Fred, having a nice walk?"

Wag, wag.

They passed on.

Wag, wag, wag, nuzzle, push.

"All right Fred, you want to go?"

Leap, wag, wag.

They went down onto the beach and Glen took the lead off Fred and began the walk back. It was a working day for most people so the beach was almost deserted.

She was lying on the beach sunning her self; she was clad in a very brief bikini that revealed large and firm breasts. As Glen and Fred approached she sat up and did so in a way that seemed calculatingly sensual.

Glen, although like most men he had been almost impelled to look at this example of female sexuality, would have passed on with perhaps a brief "hello," but the woman stopped him, saying, "That's a beautiful dog."

"Yes," replied Glen, "but he's not mine, I'm just taking him for a walk."

He went to move on but the woman stopped him again.

"I love dogs but I can't have one of my own?"

"Why not?"

"Oh, I rent a flat and the rules are, no animals allowed."

"That's a shame."

The woman had raised her arms to lift up the back of her hair in such a way as to give maximum uplift to her breasts. As her breasts strained against the thin cloth of her bikini top, causing their nipples to be clearly outlined, Glen felt a lurch in the pit of his stomach.

The woman smiled at him, a wide full lipped smile that revealed even white teeth; it was a smile calculated to beguile.

Glen made to move on again but the woman was stroking Fred and even this was a sensuous, captivating movement.

Two emotions struggled inside Glen. "My God, she's all sexy woman." She seemed to be the very embodiment of the type of woman men would risk death for. He was attracted and knew he was, yet the storm signals seemed to be out. Here was danger, as yet a long way off, but nevertheless palpable.

Once more he tried to move on but she asked, "Do you live here?"

"No, I'm just stopping here for a while."

"I'm stopping here too. Where are you staying?"

"At the pub, The Rascals Point Hotel."

"Wonderful, so am I. I think the pub is much more enchanting than a motel, I mean, the motels all seem to be the same, but the pub has character, don't you think?"

"Yes…yes…I suppose it has, but I didn't think anyone else was staying there."

"I arrived just over and hour ago and thought I'd come straight down for a bit of a tan." It seemed to Glen hardly necessary since she was already well bronzed.

"Do you swim?" she asked.

"Yes, sometimes."

"Marvellous, perhaps we could swim together?"

"Perhaps."

His lack of enthusiasm didn't seem to put her off. She extended her hand and said, "I'm Star Oaten" in a manner that suggested that Glen should know who she was.

He shook hands saying, "Glen Moore," and her long fingers seemed to hold on to him just a little longer than was necessary.

Something inside him was shouting, "Careful Glen, haven't you had enough? You've been through this before."

It was true; Star Oaten bore a strong resemblance to Rosemary and was producing in him the same response as he had experienced with Rosemary on first seeing her. There was a tingling in his groin and an erection was starting. He decided that flight was in order.

"I'd better get back to the pub or Fred's mistress will be wondering what's happened to us."

"Oh, he lives at the pub; perhaps we will be able to walk him together?"

"You'd have to ask Sarah about that."

"Sarah, which one is that, there seems to be a couple of women?"

"She's the younger one."

"Oh, the little thing in reception; isn't she a darling, just like a sweet child."

Glen backed away and said, "Yes," but not liking what sounded like a put-down of Sarah. "I might see you later."

"You're sure to Glen."

Glen continued his walk, talking to Fred as they went; "I thought dogs were supposed to have instincts about people, didn't you realise she was being seductive?" Of course, he was only transferring to Fred his own feelings, knowing he had almost been sucked into the web of this femme fatale.

His sexuality had been in abeyance ever since he had learned about Rosemary, but now nature was making itself felt and he didn't want it to. Even if this woman was only playing a seductive game his response to her was unsettling. He resolved that he would avoid Star Oaten as much as possible, and would not allow himself to be seduced by her obvious sensuality.

He settled into a philosophic mood and wondered why he had never been affected by Trish in the way he had by Rosemary and now so instantaneously by Star.

Trish was attractive, but was not and had never been so obviously sexually fascinating as Rosemary or Star; yet she must have been for Ron. Glen had always known that Trish was a good and loving person and it seemed to him that such people are often the ones who are overlooked; it is as if their very goodness is a deterrent and it took someone like Ron to appreciate them.

He had been touched by Sarah and only very briefly had he experienced a twinge of sexual feeling for her. He had instantly, and he believed successfully, pushed the feeling aside, but he appreciated the same sort of goodness in Sarah as he did in Trish.

In the course of his studies Glen had received his fair share of human psychology, but when it came down to it; when it involved you personally; it did not seem to work unless you were prepared to be cold and clinical in your relationships.

He reached the pub and took off Fred's collar and lead. Sarah must have spotted them and came out to meet them. Fred wagged and licked as Sarah asked him if he had enjoyed his walk, and again Glen replied on both their behalves, "Yes, it was very enjoyable."

He decided not to tell Sarah about his meeting with Star Oaten but Sarah unknowingly foiled his resolve.

"We've got another person stopping here now. Just wait until you meet her."

"I just have," Glen confessed. "She was sunning herself so I met her on the beach."

"Isn't she beautiful, Glen, didn't you think she's absolutely stunning? Harry helped carry her things in and now he can't stop talking about her."

"Another poor sod hooked," he thought, but said, "Yes...yes...I suppose she is quite good looking."

"Quite good looking! Glen, you'd better take another look, she's fantastic."

Glen smiled and said, "Well, she seems have a good publicist in you."

"You're an old grouch, Glen; dinner in an hour and you'll have company."

"Yes, I suppose I will."

He made his way to his room to clean up and change for dinner. He wondered if he should have a counter meal instead, and realised how much he was threatened by this woman and her glamour.

He had been drawn to Rosemary when he first saw her, but it was nothing like the instant fascination that Star had engendered in him. He knew quite well that it was simply the reaction of the male to an exceptionally good-looking female, but the knowledge did not help. The storm warnings were more urgent than ever in their clangour."

He decided against the counter meal since it would look both odd and perhaps offensive. When he entered the dining room he was relieved to see that two tables had been set for the meal. He rang the bell to let it be known he was ready for the first course, but before it arrived Star entered, or more accurately, made an entrance.

One might have supposed she was entering the dining room of a five star hotel. She was dressed in a dark red dress cut low to reveal the deep valley between her breasts, and split to the thigh to give maximum display of leg.

She smiled upon Glen then, glancing round the room said, "They've put us at separate tables."

At that point Sarah entered and Star spoke to her; "Darling, you've set the cutlery out on separate tables and I'm sure Glen would like my company, do move it."

Sarah obediently set the cutlery out on Glen's table and he had the opportunity to observe the two of them. The tall, imperious Star, elegantly – perhaps over elegantly – dressed, her dark hair, long and lustrous, cascading over her shoulders. Beside her stood delicate Sarah who seemed to be dwarfed by Star, dressed in her working clothes that consisted of a dark blue cotton dress belted at the waist.

For all her voluptuousness there was something overblown about Star; she was larger than life, and even Rosemary at her most demanding would never have had the gall to thrust herself onto someone as Star had on Glen. As she sat at his table her image was further damaged for Glen as the reek of her perfume, more potent than anything Rosemary had ever worn, reached his nostrils. It made him gasp and want to hold his breath.

Yes, the overt sexuality was still there, demanding male attention, sending out the message, "I have only to snap my fingers and I can get any man I want," but for Glen, and much to his relief, the image had crumbled.

Sarah left them and Star's imperious manner faded to be replaced by her seductive mode. She clearly had no idea of the negative impact she had on Glen, and began to question him about how long he was staying at the hotel, where he came from, was he married and what he did for a living.