One Step Beyond

One

It feels strange looking back, but my initial reaction after meeting the woman who would soon become my step-mother was that it was going to be a love-hate relationship. I was in London on my way from University to spend Christmas at my Mum's place and my father had - to my dumbfounded surprise - suggested the meeting.

It was only the next night during my nightly surf when I found myself seeking out tall, pneumatic late thirties redheads with nipple bars that I realised I was wrong.

It wasn't going to be a love-hate relationship. It was going to be a lust-hate relationship.

I didn't really have anything to hate her for but there was certainly a lot to lust after. She seemed a nice enough lady away from her other, more alluring charms. A lawyer, originally from Seattle, she now lived in London. She was friendly, bubbly, witty and chatty with a nineteen year-old boy she had just met for the first time.

It just so happened that she was my father's new squeeze, so to me she was doomed from the start.

To be fair, I also had a brief squeeze, and a very alluring one at that, when she hugged me as my father introduced us. I hoped that I would not embarrass myself in a more obvious way as a pair of very firm breasts pressed against my chest. At almost six feet tall, she was the same height as me and as something hard pressed against me after the initial heavenly crush, I had little doubt that her nipples were adorned by metal bars or rings.

Her air kisses were accompanied by a heady waft of expensive perfume and I spent the rest of our mercifully short meeting fighting down unbidden thoughts at the sight of this gorgeous woman with a soft American accent.

No, my real anger and hatred was, as ever, directed at my dear father. Unfortunately for her, Madison Templeton got caught in the crossfire and had no chance of survival. She may have deserved better from me, but then again she had chosen to take up with a man some fifteen years her senior who I knew as a heartless, callous, serial adulterer. He left my mother in pieces and after nineteen years of being ignored, talked down to and generally made to feel like something he had scraped off his shoe, I could barely stand the sight of the man.

Ok, he was still a good looking guy in his mid-fifties, but I couldn't understand why a drop-dead stunner like Madison had fallen for his 'charms' - which in the case of my mother and I had long since been buried under a landslide of neglect and mental disintegration.

It was a relief when our meeting ended as I had a train to catch. Thereafter I rarely saw them, but things moved on quickly.

It was during the Spring Break when my mother gave me the news. I was staying with her and her new boyfriend for the holidays and I was pleased that she had done so much better for herself the second time around.

Brett was an Australian guy, chilled as anything and perfect for my Mum, who at forty, still had a lot to give. For the last few years of her doomed marriage, she had seemed like a shadow of her former self - as though a light had gone out in her soul as ignominy was piled upon insult and she receded further and further into a hard little shell.

Now she had emerged from that shell like a butterfly. Her thick glasses were a thing of the past after laser treatment and her lank, lifeless hair shone again. I had never seen it, but she assured me there was a small, discrete tattoo on her hip that proclaimed she was finally Living For Myself.

I couldn't blame her and seeing the change Brett had brought about in her filled me with joy. I had my fun-loving, free-wheeling Mum back and couldn't thank him enough. I had more conversations with Brett in the last year than with my father in the seventeen or so years I had been capable of speech. We would go on about cricket for hours until Mum's eyes glazed over and he had been to see me play a dozen or so times. That was a dozen or so more times than the man who was partly responsible for the act that helped bring me into the world.

I didn't want or need a surrogate father, but Brett Collins was fast becoming a great friend. He loved my mother with all his heart, and that mattered to me more than anything. And anyone who promised me that one day he would take me to the Boxing Day Test Match in his native Melbourne was always going to get my vote.

Almost as soon as I arrived off the train, we were enjoying a welcoming drink in the local pub. After the usual pleasantries, my Mum dropped her little bombshell.

"Suppose your father hasn't told you his news, has he?" He was always 'your father' to her and 'him' to me.

I shook my head dreading what was coming next.

"Getting married to his posh new floozy. Madison what's-her-name."

Brett was ever the joker. "Does she have a square garden?"

Mum ignored him with a shake of her head and went on. "Looks like it will be in Bermuda where they met."

My father was a bigwig in the insurance industry. He thought of himself as a Master of the Universe - a Mister Indispensable with minions running around the globe at his beck and call. He spent a lot of time in Bermuda and seemingly Madison had crossed his radar whilst they were out scuba diving. It came as a shock. Monogamy was not one of his strong points and the thought of him being firmly attached once more was at odds with his persona.

It was a relief when the wedding coincided with my end of term exams. At least I didn't have to lie about the reason for my non-attendance. However, I did miss the thought of diving and seeing the dolphins at the Dockyard again. And now I was old enough to drink legally, the lure of the Hogpenny in Hamilton was almost a siren call.

I sent a card and pretended to wish them well, then forgot all about them until the summer vacation loomed and I called Mum to arrange to stay with her. I had a summer job lined up in one of the local pubs in town and looked forward to being back in the countryside after months of hard work in Cambridge.

That was when she dropped her second little bombshell of the year on me, and this one was an even bigger shock. It also caused a few ripples that at first spread out gently, but soon gathered into a big wave. By the end of the summer, it had become a tsunami and the lives of the people it washed over in an angry rage were changed irrevocably.

I always know when something is up with my Mum. Suddenly, Dan becomes Daniel again. As soon as she said my name, my heart sank.

"Ah, Daniel - yes, well I'm afraid there's good news and bad news..."

I knew that tone in her voice all too well. "Cut the bull, Mum - what's up?"

"Bad news first?"

We had always been open and honest with each other, given what we had gone through. "Yes please."

"Ok - well the thing is, the house extension is way behind schedule and the place is literally uninhabitable. We were thinking of moving in with your Gran for the duration, but Brett's got a lot of leave built up, so we thought we'd head to Australia until things are back to normal."

I sighed, dreading what was coming next. "So where does that leave me?"

"Take it there's no friends you could move in with?"

There weren't and the inevitable followed. "Your father said you can stay with MSG and him." After Brett's joke, Madison was forever known to us as 'MSG', after Madison Square Garden.

When I remained silent, she went on. "Maybe you can... I don't know, reconnect or something. Maybe make a new start with him. Sorry Dan, but there's no other option I can see."

Nor could I, but it still didn't make things any easier. Reconnecting with him was the last thing I wanted to do, but it seemed the choice was not mine.

In the end, after a stilted, awkward three-way Zoom call, it was all arranged.

I was going to spend the summer in the company of a man I despised and his soon to be forty-year-old upwardly-mobile wife - a woman I had quite happily thought of naked as I popped a few out over the last few months. Usually, I was popping it out on her breasts or on her face. It was going to be a difficult time all-round.

As my father closed his end of the connection, Mum gave me a sad, apologetic look. "Sorry Dan. At least you'll have a roof over your head. You ok?"

For a long time, I stared at her in silence. Finally, she spoke. "At least it's only the other side of town. You'll still be able to work in the Red Lion and see your mates at the cricket club. Oh, for God's sake, say something Dan."

I rarely swore in front of my mother, but this time I made an exception. I took a deep breath and put my head in my hands.

"Whoop-de-fucking-do."

Two

The first two weeks were not quite as bad as I expected. I had imagined it would be sheer hell, but in fact it was only purgatory. After a perfunctory welcome by my new, reluctant hosts, I was largely left to my own devices. That was fine by me. I had my job at the pub, the cricket season was in full swing and there were plenty of mates around to go drinking with.

My father was his usual aloof self; disinterested, detached and mercifully, too preoccupied with his business interests to even notice I was there. If he wasn't at work, he was locked in his home office. It crossed my mind that whilst I saw very little of him, Madison hardly had full access to him either.

For some reason, she seemed different to the first couple of times I met her. On those occasions, she had been pleasant to me - or had at least pretended fairly convincingly. Now she was more insular and there was little of the spark I had seen in her previously.

It was clear I was there on sufferance and I was determined to keep my head below the parapet and get through the summer as painlessly as possible. They both worked up in London - the sort of people who revel in working silly hours and were up at the crack of dawn to start the daily commute and often were not back by the time my pub shift was over, well past eleven.

All the better - it meant less contact, and at weekends I was able to seek almost 24/7 solace in the cricket club. They were also away doing their own thing - I was never made privy as to what or where and frankly didn't give a flying one, though golf would inevitably have a part to play. They were out of sight, out of mind - apart from when Madison strolled to the car one day in tight burgundy leather trousers. After that, she stayed in my mind for most of the weekend.

It was early in week three when things began to change. I returned from the pub one night to hear raised voices from their bedroom. Despite the thought that there was maybe a little tension between them, I didn't really think anything was too untoward. I had put it down to me being around, cramping their newly-wed style. After I had listened at the door for a few minutes, I began to change my view.

I had never heard Madison swear or raise her voice, so what I heard shocked me. Her voice was a low, raw rasp - a million miles from her usual, seductive purr.

"Fucking hell, Alex. First you agree to let your bloody son stay with us for the summer, and now you're telling me you're fucking off to Bermuda and the States - for six fucking weeks!"

My father's low, baritone rumble was harder to discern but I recognised the placatory, suave and condescending tone in his voice. He was a hard man to argue with and if he couldn't get you with his - to him at least - superior intellect and infallible logic, he would raise the decibel count slowly and surely until you couldn't get a word in beneath his torrent of words and sheer volume.

Despite her chosen profession, Madison had no chance. I had heard it so many times with my mother and myself. As always, he won the day, promising her holidays down the line when it was all over, telling her how it was essential he oversaw the last few weeks of the project in Bermuda before signing it all off in the States.

Typical of my old man. Let his minions do the hard yards then step in at the eleventh hour and claim all the glory. He would revel in the glad-handing, the photoshoots and the general adulation. He should have been a politician.

I had heard enough and made for my room, Madison's last words ringing in my ears. "Great - I'll just baby-sit for you for a month and a half while you swan about the fucking globe then, shall I?"

Slightly stung by her remarks and being called his 'bloody son,' I retreated and fantasised about fucking her up between those amazing breasts. I had watched a few baby-sitter movies in my time and that was one role-reversal scenario I'd love to have seen. When I shot my load, I was quite impressed by the spurt. I reckon I'd probably have reached to just below her eyes. I imagined it dripping down from her chin onto the smooth skin of her twin treasures and wondered what the hell the next six weeks were going to be like when we were alone together.

My father left two days later in the early afternoon. I said goodbye as I passed his office to head out for a long walk. I needed to get out and didn't want to be around for the big farewell. I got the response I expected - a grunt. He barely looked up from his Mission Control array of screens as he waved his hand in an almost dismissive gesture.

I gave him an even more dismissive one to his back as I left. I forgot Madison was working from home to see him off and she had just reached the top of the staircase and saw me do it. She looked as if she were about to say something, but my hard stare silenced her and we passed without comment.

I thought about seeing if my friends fancied some cricket practice, but inevitably the rain began a few hundred yards from home. I should have checked the forecast, but I am ever the weather optimist when it comes to cricket. I retreated home and let myself in quietly. Their bedroom door was closed, so I assumed a farewell session was in progress. This time I didn't stop and listen.

An hour or so later, I watched from my bedroom window as they emerged onto the front drive into the now bright, sunny afternoon and one of the company chauffeurs scuttled across the gravel to take his cases. I could almost imagine him bowing and tugging his forelock at the great industry titan as he loaded them into the car.

A huge pang of jealousy swept over me as Madison hugged him and almost devoured him with a feral goodbye kiss just inside the confines of our driveway. She put her head on his shoulder and gazed into his eyes, but even from a fair distance it was obvious that her loving look was not returned in kind.

At last he pulled himself free, said a few final words and disappeared from view. A few seconds later, a sleek Lexus passed the end of the drive and Madison stood waving as if seeing off her sailor boy from the harbour.

I expected to see a tearful, slump-shouldered return as she made her way back to the house, but her reaction surprised me. Clearly unaware I was watching on, she almost skipped back down the path. Only when sure she was out of sight of the roadway and any prying eyes did she stop dead in her tracks.

She let out a huge expulsion of air and tilted her head back. Her long mane of deep red hair tumbled down her back and she raised her clenched fists to the heavens. As she let out a silent cry of joy, her body shook and she screwed her eyes tightly shut. It didn't take an expert lip-reader to work out the single word she then screamed silently into the still afternoon air.

"Freedom!"

I thought for a moment she was about to sink to her knees in joy. She put her hands to her head and spun around to face the end of the drive once more. She gave another cheery wave after the now long-gone company car, then raised both hands in a gesture far worse than the one I had made to his back earlier.

Her walk back to the front door was slow and measured, the look on her face radiant. As she reached the front door, I saw that indeed there were now tears in her eyes, but these were tears of pure delight.

For some reason, Madison Templeton was not at all sorry to see my father leave.

It took me a moment to realise I had spoken out loud.

"What the fuck is going on?"

Things got even stranger when she slammed the front door shut. It was a monstrous thing, hard wood and studded with big brass bolts. She slammed it so hard it threatened to come off its hinges. I just got over the shock of the sound it made when her voice carried up the stairs and through the closed door of my room. It sounded only a few degrees the right side of hysterical to me.

"Yes, fucking yes, fucking yes, fucking yes! Six fucking weeks. Oh, bring it on!" There was a long pause, then, "Couldn't you make it six months, you fucking asshole?"

There was silence for a moment, then her mobile rang. I half expected it to be him, but her voice came back, this time almost breathless. "Hey Cassie - yeah, he's gone. Just going to grab a bottle of wine and head out into the garden. With you in a mo!"

She went out of earshot, presumably into the kitchen, then on through the patio doors. I thought of trying to listen from the spare room that overlooked the garden, but I needed to get to work.

When I returned much later, she was nowhere to be seen. The only sign that she had been in the kitchen was a large gin tumbler on the drainer, still with a little bit of ice in the bottom. As I dropped something in the recycling bin, I noticed that there were two wine bottles nestling at the bottom.

It struck me that Madison Templeton was relishing her freedom already.

Three

It was a fairly quiet night in the pub and I pulled a few pints for the stragglers as Keith called last orders. The food service was long done and he said I could get off early. It was five past eleven, but it was still a bonus, so I didn't argue.

As I left the pub, the clatter of the late train from London rent the still night air as it pulled out from the station over the road, bound for the south coast. Even at that time of night there was a fair old stream of poor, benighted souls headed for home. I hoped for their sakes they had been enjoying a few drinks in town rather than working late.

I had gone no more than ten yards when I heard a familiar voice behind me. It was low and sultry and stopped me in my tracks. "Ooh, my white knight on his charger waiting to see a damsel in distress back home!"

I had not even set eyes on her since her big goodbye with my father and the even bigger revelation that followed in her hysterical outburst. I wasn't sure how I would respond. It was over half a mile back to the house and it would be distinctly uncomfortable walking with her. To top it off, she sounded like she had been drinking and when I turned to face her, even after an evening in the pub serving drinks to all and sundry, I was assailed by the red wine fumes that emanated from her. It was a forty minute journey from Central London and she reeked of it. How much had she drunk?

She took hold of my arm and linked it in hers - probably the first even remotely intimate gesture we had shared since our introductory hug. "Well, fancy meeting you here."

I didn't know what to do or say and mumbled that I hoped she'd had a good night.

Her words were more than a little slurred. "Yes, been a busy few weeks and we hit it a bit hard tonight." She gave me a bleary grin and despite not having drunk a drop all night, I swore I would have failed a breathalyser from inhaling her fumes alone. "Gotta let go a little bit now and then, huh?"

I barely recalled getting home or what had been said thereafter, and I doubted given her state that she would have had a better clue than me. More than once she stumbled, accompanied by a drunken little giggle or a barely audible, "Oops!" and I had to hold her up. By the time we got to the driveway, I was sure she was going to come on to me.