Farewell to the Dancing Man Ch. 11-20

"When you start going with boys they will most probably start working on those areas with varying degrees of finesse on the assumption that you will lose control and give in to their advances. That is possible. I want you to be aware of what is happening to your body so that you can make a decision on whether you want matters to go beyond that point. Boys will try to convince you that it is all right, normal, for your own good, to give in to them. You may even find that to be the case, but remember, while legally you are old enough to make that decision, you have your life ahead of you and the wrong decision will affect the rest of your life. He will probably then play on your sympathies by telling you it will affect him if you don't give in. He will not suffer irreparable physical or emotional damage if you don't let him make love to you, in spite of what he might say to convince you otherwise, and allowing him to make love to you is not the only way that you can show him that you love him."

"You will find yourself having dreams about making love to different men. That is normal. It is rare for such a dream to come true and when they do, they can be a monumental disappointment. On the other hand, the most unlikely looking man could turn out to be the right one for you. Now don't take that as an open invitation for you to try as many boys and men as you can. On the contrary, you will develop a sense of who is right for you and who isn't. If you decide that you want to let someone make love to you, I want you to do one thing, I want you to insist that he wears a condom."

"A condom, what's one of those?"

"It's a form of birth control, it's a rubber thing that the man puts over his penis before making love."

"Oh, you mean a 'French letter'?"

"Yes. Be sure that he puts it on before he puts his penis inside you, don't let him try to convince you that it will be all right if he pulls out and then puts it on during intercourse, which is not a safe practise."

'Why?"

"Because some men ejaculate very quickly and before you can do anything about it you are full of his sperm. As well as that small amounts of sperm can escape from his penis before ejaculation which is a good reason for you to resist any assurances he might give you that he'll pull out before ejaculation."

"Did the Sergeant wear a condom when you made love to him?"

"Yes I wouldn't have let him do it otherwise."

"Samantha says that if you and Daddy aren't happy sexually that you should have an affair. She says that her mother has had several."

"I know about her mother. I'm different, I don't have the same sexual urges as her mother, I can survive for more than a few hours without having sex."

"Do different women have different feelings about sex?"

"Of course, that's what makes us so interesting. I don't feel the need for sex as much as I did at your age. I reached my sexual peak just after Timothy was born, now I can get by for weeks at a time without it."

"Is it because of that you and Daddy don't do it very often? What would happen if you met someone, like the Sergeant for instance, who gave it to you more often, would you want it more often?"

"I really don't know. I suppose that I would like it more often if it was there and it was someone that I loved and respected. That is the most important part, love and respect."

"What about the Sergeant, do you love him?"

"I don't know. At first it was something that I did because I was feeling rejected by your father and he was there looking as if he would be good at it. It was exciting that first time."

"So there's been more than one time?"

"Yes, we made love twice but it won't happen again. I'm hoping to have another long talk with your father and I hope that we can improve our relationship so that I won't need to look for someone else."

"Does Daddy know about the Sergeant?"

"No, and at this stage there is no need for him to know. I hope I can trust you on this."

"On What?" Timothy asked as he walked into the room.

"Nothing, just something between us girls." Cynthia told him.

"Oh. What is there to eat?"

"There's plenty of fruit in the fruit bowl and milk in the fridge."

"Yuk. Here we go again, isn't there any real food?"

"If you mean cake and coke, no." Mumbling to himself about how hard done by he was, Timothy went out into the back yard. The sound of him diving into the pool followed.

"I'd better make a start on getting dinner ready for you kids."

"Can't I eat with you and Daddy? Eating with Timothy is so gross, the way that he shovels food into his mouth is revolting."

"If your father is true to form it will be too late for that." A car pulled into the driveway and Cynthia couldn't think who it could be, surely not Brownlow at this hour. She was pleasantly surprised when Peter came into the room. She was even more pleasantly surprised when he took her in his arms and kissed her. The expression on Rebecca's face showed that she was just as surprised and pleased.

"This is something new." Cynthia was still in his arms hoping to extend the mood.

"Don't knock it Darling. I realise that I've been neglecting you and I've decided to see if work will collapse in a screaming heap if I don't spend as much time there, and to delegate more work to others."

"That's wonderful. Now release me so that I can prepare dinner for all of us." Turning away from him Cynthia started to gather together the ingredients for dinner.

"Here, let me help you." Peter took a lettuce and started to tear the leaves to shreds. Rebecca, seeing that she would be intruding into this new domesticity decided to have a swim before dinner.

"Darling." Peter asked.

"Yes."

"Something has been bothering me."

"What is it?" Was he going to broach the topic of their relationship or was it something else.

"Didn't you live here around twenty years ago?"

"Of course I lived here, you know that as well as I do, you know that daddy had to sell it after his divorce from Mummy and after he died he left me with enough money that helped us buy it back."

"Have you told the police that?"

"No, what good would that do?"

"It may help them to find out whose bones just happened to be in the septic tank."

"But after all this time?" Cynthia left the question unfinished.

"If there is nothing to hide, what's the problem?"

"The problem is that if they can't identify the body and can't find the murderer, then there will always be a question over the case and doubts about this family. You know that people will form their own opinions and no amount of protests will alter that."

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Cynthia's Story.

Dinner was an unusually pleasant affair, for the first time in I don't know how long Peter had dinner with the family on a week night. For a while it was strained until the kids got used to having him around, but the time that dessert was served Timothy was rattling along at twenty to the dozen about everything that was happening at school and his instant fame and popularity following the discovery of the body in the tank. Rebecca was a little more subdued, feeling, I think, that her contribution to the conversation were important to the success of the occasion. She chose her words carefully. "Daddy, is it really necessary for you to work back every night? This is so much better than when you're not here. I feel that even if you weren't making millions of dollars we would love you just the same, right Tim?"

"What? Oh sure. Is there any more dessert?"

"Philistine!" Rebecca put on her 'I'm much more sophisticated than you' expression, "Can't you think of anything other than your stomach?"

"I'm still hungry."

"Yes Dear," I interrupted, "there's more in the kitchen, help yourself."

The reluctance with which he trudged off to recharge his plate indicated that he had fully expected me to get it for him. "Hey Tim, get me some more while you're at it." Peter called after him.

"That's right, wait until I'm out here and then ask, you didn't think to ask while I was still there, now I'll have to walk all the way back and pick up your plate."

"Don't talk to your father like that!" I told him.

"Sorry Dad, I guess that I'm just out of practise."

"Tim!" I was just about to chastise him again when Peter stepped in.

"No, I'm largely to blame for this situation, and should shoulder the blame as well as the responsibility of fixing it."

After dinner we sat down together and watched TV until it was time for Tim to go to bed. On several occasions Tim asked questions about things that he didn't understand and Peter either answered him or told him where he could find the answer.

Rebecca excused herself and went off to bed sensing that we wanted to be alone. "You're right, I have been missing out on a lot haven't I?"

"Yes, and there's something else that you've missed out on."

"Oh yes, and just what might that be?" He was sitting beside me with his arm draped around my shoulder and his forehead resting on mine. Slowly, his lips moved to mine, the kiss had none of the mechanical feel to it that was in his kiss this morning. We held each other for some time before he pulled away. Standing he pulled me to my feet and into his arms. With his arm still around me we walked slowly into our room.

The slow tender lovemaking of our courting days returned. Peter took me in his arms and kissed me with mounting passion, his hands seeking and finding the zip at the back of my dress. Slowly it was worked down until the dress hung loosely over my shoulders. He took half a step backwards to give himself enough room and allow the dress to fall to the floor before resuming his embrace. His hands had found a new target and my dress was joined on the floor by my bra.

An hour, going on ten hours, going on a few minutes of immeasurable time later, during which I had to tell him that his lips, fingers and cock were a more convincing apology than a thousand words, we reached our first mutual orgasm in I don't know how long. It was his first and my third and as I lay drowsily in his comforting embrace he told me for the thousandth time that he loved me and that he was a stupid fool for neglecting me for so long. He promised that all of that would change.

After our morning lovemaking session, what a way to be woken, He broached the subject of me having lived in this house as a girl. "I think that you should tell the police about it because if they found out and you haven't mentioned it they will think that you have something to hide."

"Okay, I promise." Could I tell the police without speaking to Gary?

After breakfast as he kissed me and told me for the thousand and first time that he loved me Peter reminded me of my promise.

At nine-thirty I was saved from ringing the police by the arrival of Brownlow. I thought for a minute that I should hide and not answer the door bell but I figured he had probably been waiting down the road for Peter to leave and would know that I was still at home. He entered with a familiarity that I was beginning to resent. He reached for me but I avoided his touch by taking a step backwards. "What's the matter with you?"

"I don't think that we should be doing this. I'm making an effort to salvage my relationship with Peter and I don't need this complication."

"Really? Well let me tell you something, if you don't do as I ask I will make life very difficult for you."

"That sounds very much like blackmail to me. Are you planning to tell Peter of our, what is that wonderful term you people use, intimate relationship?"

"No. I have something more damaging to you than that."

"Don't tell me, let me guess. You have found out, using your considerable resources and detective skills, that about twenty years ago, and about the time that you believe the body was placed in our septic tank, that there lived in this house the Pearson family. This family was made up of the father, Mr William Pearson, the mother Mrs Judith Pearson and their adorable daughter Cynthia. Now this daughter is the very same Cynthia that married Peter Swain and along with her loving husband and two absolutely fabulous children Rebecca and Timothy are living in that very same house."

"Damn!"

"Are you disappointed because I stole your thunder, or is it because you now have nothing that you can use to force me into going to bed with you?"

"I could charge you with withholding evidence."

"Are you sure of that? After all you only asked me who the previous owners were, not who the owners were before that, or if I'd lived here before. If you'd asked me either of those questions I would have told you."

"Now that you've confirmed that it was you that lived here, I will have to ask you to cast your mind back to see if you can remember anything that could help our investigations?"

"What sort of thing did you have in mind?"

"Anything. It may not seem important to you, but it may just be that vital clue that we need to make a breakthrough."

"I can't think of anything offhand. It was pretty normal until Mummy left us and went to England with another man and then. . . ." My mind drifted back, it was as if I was having a bad dream.

I was eighteen when Mummy left. At first Daddy and I thought that she was going over to England to visit a long lost and sick relative, but then we got her letter that must have been posted as soon as she had arrived in London that told us that she wasn't coming back and that she wanted a divorce. Daddy was distraught "Cynth." He was in tears, "Cynth, your mother won't . . . ." The letter slipped from his hand and fluttered to the floor.

I picked it up and managed to read the first paragraph before I too was overcome by the enormity of the news. "But Daddy, I thought that you and Mummy were reasonably happy, you never seemed to have any arguments."

"She obviously didn't think so. She says that she has found someone who can give her a more exciting life than I can. She says she is too young to be tied down to me for the rest of her life and that I don't fit in with the image she sees for herself."

"Does she say that she doesn't love you?"

"No. That's the stupid part of this, she says that she loves me but that she's not in love with me."

"What's the difference?"

"Loving someone is a forever emotion. Being in love can be transient."

"So she's prepared to give up your relationship and marriage for something that might blow over quickly. What will she do if this fling doesn't work out?"

"Probably stick it out rather than have to admit that she made a mistake and ruined the lives of others for what can only be described as a purely selfish act. She is a very proud woman is your mother."

"But why? Wouldn't she be better off coming back and admitting that she made a mistake?"

"No. I, we, haven't told you this, but this is not the first time that she has left me. Years ago, before you were born, she left me for another man, it lasted about three months before she came back admitting that she had made a mistake and promising that it would never happen again. I took her back and trusted her not to go back on her promise. She has had several lovers since then, something that I have tolerated because I loved her and because she threatened on a number of occasions to leave if she didn't get her own way. It seems that until now her lovers were not interested, or didn't want a long term commitment. But this one. It appears, left his wife and wanted her to do the same thing. He has applied enough pressure on her for her to go back on all her promises."

"If she comes back again would you take her back?"

"Probably not, I don't know, you see love is based on trust and I don't know that I would ever be able to trust her again, not with her scant regard for the feelings of those she is supposed to love."

"Do you still love her?"

"Yes, I guess that I'm something of an anachronism in that I have a capacity to love that can't be dampened by anything that a person does to me. I could never hate someone, not for a moment, it would take something really drastic for me to lose the capacity to love and even then I don't think that I could hurt someone to the extent that she has hurt you and I."

"Oh Daddy." I threw my arms around his neck. "I really love you and I think that you must simply be the most forgiving person in the world."

"I don't know about forgiving, I certainly won't be forgetting this. Well kid, it's you and me against the world."

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

"Did you ever see her again?" Brownlow's voice interrupted Cynthia's thoughts.

"What? Oh no. Daddy corresponded with her solicitor and after he sold the house he sent her share of the proceeds. She never wrote or sent a card for my birthday or Christmas."

"What about her lover, did you ever find out who it was?"

"Which one?"

"The one she left your father for?"

"Oh him, of course, it was one of the men from the tennis club, caused quite a stir at the time."

"What happened to him?"

"Our friends told us that he met her in England as planned. As far as Daddy and I were concerned that was what happened."

"Okay. Is there anything else that you can remember that happened around then?"

"No, not really."

"Can you remember if, at any time, your father had any work done on the drains or septic tank?"

"We were always having something done to the drains. The neighbours had this massive camphor laurel tree right on the fence line and its roots were forever blocking the drains. The old lady that lived there wouldn't do anything about it even after Daddy threatened to make her pay for the damage it caused. One day the plumber had this bright idea and drove several lengths of copper pipe into the roots. Three months later the tree was dead. The old lady couldn't understand it."

"You didn't like her very much, did you?"

"Not really, she was a real busybody. She used to give her poor husband a hard time for spending so much time in the back garden when Mummy was sunbathing by the pool."

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Cynthia's Story

That wasn't the only reason that I didn't like her, I wondered how it was that Mummy found out that Paul and I had been lovers. At first I thought that it was because he'd been boasting to his mates about making love to both mother and daughter, for I had heard that he and Mother were doing it, but later, during a very heated argument with her I found out.

"You little slut!" Mummy's voice cut cruelly through me. "What do you think you are doing making love to someone at your age?"

"What are you talking about?" I wasn't going to admit that it was true, at least not yet.

"Someone told old Mrs Watson next door that you've been getting more than tennis lessons on Saturday mornings."

"But that was ages ago, it's all over now."

"Why did you do it?"

"Because I loved him and I thought that he loved me."

"I hope that you took precautions."

"What do you mean?"

"You silly little bitch! Now I suppose I'll have to arrange an abortion for you. When did you last have your period?"

"I'm in the middle of one now."

"Well at least that's something. Still I resent you making love to Paul, he's too old for you."

"What has upset you most, me making love to someone, or to Paul because you thought that you had him for yourself?"

"How dare you!" Her hand lashed out and caught me a sting blow on the face. "He means nothing to me."

"Then why the commotion?"

"Go to your room immediately. I don't want to hear any more about this."

Life with her became strained, I guess she thought that I had become a threat to her. I didn't know whether she continued to see Paul after our argument and it didn't bother me because I'd begun seeing a boy that I'd met on the train. He was gentle and sweet and as yet he hadn't tried to make love to me.

Daddy somehow found out about our argument. "Cynth, I'm, well, disappointed in you, but then you weren't really to blame. I can only assume that he seduced you, I hope he didn't rape you or force himself on you. I can understand you falling for him, after all your mother did."