One Step Beyond

When I lay in bed twenty minutes later, I was ashamed to think that if she had, I would have taken advantage.

But she didn't. As I opened the front door and she lurched into the hallway, she gave me a deep bow. "Thank you, Sir Daniel. Your kindness will not be forgotten. I bid you a fond goodnight."

My emotions raced as I watched her delicately negotiate the stairs. She was barely able to stand and I thought back to the two wine bottles in the recycling earlier in the week. Something was seriously off here and I couldn't work it out.

She reached the top and smiled down at me. "Sorry, I'm a bit pissed and I'm fucking tragic when that happens. Gonna be fun in the morning... not." She paused, suddenly serious. "Thanks, Dan. Sorry again. Goodnight."

I stared up as she clutched the stair rail for grim death and muttered a listless, "Goodnight," back to her. I turned to go into the kitchen to get a glass of water and heard a tiny voice from above me.

"I have a name you know, Daniel. You've never called me by my name."

Before the words were even out of my mouth, I hated myself for saying them.

"Goodnight... step-mother."

Her beautiful face seemed to collapse in on itself as she turned towards the bedroom. "Oh, thanks a lot, Daniel. For fucks' sake, kick a girl when she's down, why don't you?"

For the first time in a long time, I cried as I lay down to sleep, those two words ringing in my ears as I recalled the look on her face and the words she spat back at me with tears in her eyes. I despised myself for my cowardice.

I barely slept, wishing I had said her name instead of humiliating her. The look on her face told the story and it was etched into my consciousness as I cursed myself. She was drunk and I was stone cold sober, yet I was the one who acted as if I was inebriated.

She was right - I could not call her by her name. It would somehow have humanised her - made her a real, living person instead of this cartoon image I still had of her as my father's new wife, despite what I had seen and heard as he left. There was some sort of vulnerability there and she had reached out to me.

And I may as well have spat in her face.

I finally got to sleep in the early hours and lay in late. I had nothing to do until I started at the Red Lion at twelve. At least I had nothing to do but regret my words.

Just after eleven-thirty, I went down to make myself a coffee. I was too busy trying to work out the vagaries of the machine to hear her come into the kitchen behind me and I jumped as she spoke.

"Couldn't stretch to a strong black, could you? Sugar."

Her naturally pale skin looked wan and even more devoid of colour than usual as she wandered in wearing sweatpants and a plain t-shirt. It was the first time I had seen her looking anything less than immaculate. She necked a couple of painkillers and sat down at the kitchen table.

Her smile was a little crooked. "Second lot. Hopefully, they may do some good." She passed a hand over her clammy forehead. "Was due in today but I've got a few hours in the bank. As I feel like shit on a stick, seemed like a good idea to cash them in. Taking the rest of the week as holiday anyway."

Despite my dislike of her, my heart went out to her. I held up a coffee mug. "How strong, how many sugars."

"Very. Lots."

I didn't know the machine all that well, but I managed to produce something with the consistency of Marmite. I handed it to her and she took a sip.

"Fuck, that's better." She fumbled in her bag and surprised me by pulling out a packet of cigarettes. She lit one with a trembling hand and shuddered as she exhaled.

Seeing my look of dismay, she put a hand to her head. "Please don't, Daniel. Don't look at me like that. He doesn't like me doing it - your father, I mean. I don't often these days, but sometimes..."

I took a sip of my own coffee. "If he doesn't like it, then do it all you want. Fine by me."

She took a deep drag and let out a little laugh. "Fuck, I feel awful."

I decided to bite the bullet. "So do I - but at least you have an excuse."

She shook her head and winced. "Ow, bad idea. Sorry - I know I was gaga, but what did I miss? Even in that state, I think I'd have known if someone took advantage of me."

Fighting down thoughts of taking advantage of her, I came clean. "Drunk as you were, I don't believe for one minute that you don't remember what I said."

She ground the cigarette out on the ceramic tabletop and fell silent for a long time, chewing a knuckle on one hand, abstractedly winding her hair around the fingers of the other.

Her eyes glazed over as they had done when I first said it. "That fucking hurt, Daniel."

I lowered my head in shame. "I'm so sorry. I was hitting out at him, not you. I was bang out of order and I'm deeply ashamed of myself. Not to put too fine a point on it, this is a fucking weird situation and I don't know how to handle it. If it makes you feel better, I barely slept for beating myself up over it and if I could take it back, I would in a heartbeat. Will you accept my sincere apology?"

She sipped her coffee. "Thank you, I will accept your apology, even though it's pretty clear you hate me."

This woman seemed to have a habit of catching me with a right hook. "No - I don't hate you. As you are probably aware, I am - to put it mildly - not on the best of terms with my father. As you are with him and have unexpectedly become my step-mother, I'm afraid you have inevitably been caught in the crossfire. No, I don't hate you, but I hate the fact that you are with him. The bottom line is that you are way too good for him. Someone like him doesn't deserve you."

I looked into her bloodshot eyes as she held her mug to her mouth, wondering where my ramblings were going. "I mean, look at you. Even with a hangover the size of Belgium you're utterly stunning. I just cannot see it knowing what he's like."

She held my gaze. "Jealous?"

Anger began to well up in me, but I controlled it. "If we're being brutally honest, then yes. For the first time in my life, I'm jealous of the bastard."

The look she gave me was meant to be a hard stare, but I got the impression it was more for show than anything. "He's my husband, Daniel and I love him. Please - call me names if you must and think those things privately, but don't call him that to my face."

"Sorry - there's a long history. He didn't treat us very well and I'm protective of my Mum for what he did to her in particular. It's nothing personal, please understand that. You are where you are with me by association."

She lit another cigarette. "Fuck, I never expected it to be a bed of roses you being here, but I didn't think we'd be having conversations like this only a few days after he fucked off."

I didn't let on I had overheard them arguing. "I take it you weren't expecting it?"

"No. Just a bit gutted really. I'd have loved to go back to Bermuda with him, but my work is manic at the moment. Just wasn't possible. Never mind, what's six weeks, eh?"

Her smile didn't touch her eyes.

She drained her coffee mug and winced again. "Jeez, somehow that is working. Patent that as a hangover cure and you'll be a millionaire before you're twenty! Oh and by the way, I should have mentioned it earlier, but hey - I'm missing him a lot, so I'm going to stay at my friend Cassie's in London for a few days. It will do me good to spend some time with old friends. Maybe it will give us some time to think things over and hopefully clear this fog we've been living in."

The thought of a weekend on my own appealed. "Yeah, sounds good. Maybe catch up when you're back."

A little colour had returned to her cheeks. "Maybe get your girlfriend round." She gave me a shy little smile. "I won't tell."

I shook my head. "Don't have a girlfriend, at least not here. It will be cricket all the way for me."

She frowned. "Oh, poor Dan. Got one at Uni then?"

A day earlier, I would have told her to stick her curiosity where the sun don't shine, but there had been a subtle sea-change in the intervening time. "Not exactly a girlfriend, but we get it on now and again."

She brightened visibly. "Ooh, FWB, how exciting!"

"Sorry, you got me. FWB?"

"Oh come on, Friends With Benefits? Fuck buddies?"

I was now flustered and embarrassed. "No, we just... after gigs or rehearsals sometimes."

She laughed. "Sounds pretty much like FWB to me! Come on, do tell. Cheer me up a little."

Despite being late, I felt I owed her something. "Nothing much to tell really. Rachel - the girl that plays keyboards in our band - there's nothing formal - we don't go out or anything. Just sometimes..."

This semi-dirty talk seemed to be doing her good. "You fuck. No strings attached." She punched my hand as it rested on the table. "Way to go, Dan. Liking it!"

Sensing my embarrassment, she changed the subject. "Sorry, I can be a bit in your face at times. Just ignore me. You're in a band huh? Your father says you play the guitar and you're pretty good."

I felt like snapping at her, but it wasn't her fault. He was manipulative and would say anything to sound like he had been a normal, doting father when he'd never heard me play a note. "I'm ok, I suppose. Look, I'm late for work. I know things aren't easy, but let's try and get along, ok?"

She seemed relieved. "Yeah, be nice."

I stood and walked around the table, heading for the door. Once more, I recalled her stricken face the night before. I put a hand on her shoulder. "Just one more time, I'm so sorry about last night. It's him, not you, yeah?"

She swallowed hard and put a hand on mine. "Thanks Dan, hope your cricket goes well."

I reached the door and realised there was one more thing I needed to say to her. "Have a good break, Madison. See you later."

She didn't say a word, but the smile she gave me in return lifted my heart.

She was long gone when I returned. I popped a bottle of beer and sat at the same kitchen table, going through the events of the last few days. So many things just didn't add up.

First there was her reaction to him telling her he was going away. She sounded angry and put out about it, which was completely at odds with her actions after he left. Then there were the lewd gestures after her seemingly loving send-off, her triumphal cry of freedom and the words to her friend Cassie on the phone. Twice she had told me she missed him already, but each time her eyes gave the lie.

There was something very strange indeed going on. Knowing my father and how he treated my mother, I had my suspicions that it was happening again with Madison, but at a much quicker pace.

Part of me was glad. If she were naïve and stupid enough at her age to fall for his poisoned charms, then she deserved all she got.

Then I thought of her vulnerable side and her sometimes almost unashamed blatant sexuality. She was an enigma and I couldn't work her out. Clearly something was very wrong and she was telling two different stories. Whether or not I'd ever get to the bottom of it in the next few weeks remained to be seen.

In the end I gave up and went out for beers with friends and played cricket all weekend with mixed success. But all the while, at the back of my mind were two nagging questions.

Just who really was Madison Templeton and what the fuck was going on?

Four

I had no idea when she was due back, but just after six on the Monday evening, I heard the sound of an overnight bag dragging on the gravel of the drive. I looked out of my bedroom window and she was in her work clothes, so I assumed she had taken them with her and gone straight into work from her friend's place that morning.

As we had agreed to try to be civil, I decided to extend a little olive branch and casually wandered downstairs as she came in through the door. "Carry your bags to your room, madam?"

She looked up and smiled. "Very kind of you, young man. First on the right, top of the stairs!"

Whatever she had been doing and wherever she had been, she certainly had some kit with her. No wonder she was out of breath - the bag weighed a ton. I left it outside the door, went back down and followed her into the kitchen. She looked a million miles from the pale, hungover waif I had seen a few days earlier. Her hair was tied up in a green band and if it hadn't been for her work attire, she could have passed as barely older than me. Once again, I felt the familiar dichotomy of lusting after her and trying to keep her at arm's length and not get too close to her.

She thanked me as she extricated a bottle of wine from the cupboard under the stairs which doubled as my father's wine cellar.

"Good weekend?"

"Mmm, great thanks. Just what I needed. A few good meals with friends, a matinee on Saturday and just a general chill. Help me forget being a single girl again for a while!"

"Sounds good. What did you see?"

Not for the first time in our brief relationship, she seemed flustered. "Oh, erm - it was Shakespeare's Globe, you know - the open air one. It was... erm, The Tempest. Yeah, The Tempest. A bit dark and moody for a sunny afternoon, but it was good and we had a nice meal afterwards on the Southbank."

I was about to respond when her phone rang. She smiled as she saw the caller id and accepted the call. "Hi, can you just hang on a moment please?" She covered the mic and shrugged at me. "Sorry, it's work. Sometimes, you just can't escape. The wine will have to wait." She pointed to the patio doors. "Bit private, big case going down so I'll take it out there. Nice talking again, Daniel. Have a good evening."

I was already on red alert. I had been to the Globe with my Mum and Brett in the spring break and knew full well that The Tempest was not part of their season. As the patio door closed, the alarm bells rang even louder as her words carried to me.

"Hiya babes, sorry about that. Just walked in so good timing. What a fucking blast-"

I heard no more, but it was hardly the way to start a work call about an important case. This time I didn't have to be at the pub as it closed on Mondays and I couldn't let the opportunity go begging. I dived upstairs and into the spare room. At the back of the house, it overlooked the secluded garden. It was a warm evening, so the window was already open.

Her voice carried up to my vantage point perfectly as she settled onto a lounger. "Oh, the bloody relief, Cass. It's been a shit few months. Why didn't I listen to my best friend in all the world?"

There was a short delay then from her responses, it appeared her friend was giving her a right roasting. "Yes, I know you told me he wasn't right for me. Yes, Cassie - you told me he was an utter shit. Yes Cassandra - you were right on all counts and I wish I'd listened to you. Yadda, yadda, yadda. Yes, Cassie - I am a fucking silly little bitch, I know that now."

Then she began to giggle. "Yes, Cassie - it was just the best weekend a girl could have asked for. Just like old times, fucking our brains out. I said make it a big one and you did. I wanted a fucking cum-bath and I got one. Oh, Cassie - I could barely remember what that thing between my legs was for. The fucking thing had almost healed up!"

There was another long pause. "No, as I told you, he barely comes near me. Considering what the first few weeks were like, it's just completely off the agenda. When I suggested little blue pills, I thought he was going to hit me."

The conversation went on in much the same vein for a while and it shocked me to my very core. The thought of someone marrying this utterly drop-dead gorgeous woman then going almost completely celibate on her left me speechless. Given half a chance, there was barely a man on earth who would not be at it like a rabbit on Viagra with her.

But then again, this was my dear father, and he was a law unto himself. Just as the words formed in my head as to why they were together, Madison said them out loud as if reading my mind.

"Bottom line is Cassie, I'm quite simply just a trophy wife. A redheaded pair of tits to put on his mantlepiece and adorn his arm at golf days and corporate bashes. I'm here to help stroke his monumentally over-inflated ego." Her voice dropped to an attempted approximation of his urbane drawl. 'Look at me, King of the World, still able to pull the dolly-birds at fifty-three. What a man I am. I bet you all wish you were me.'"

I had to stifle a laugh. Her vocal impression was nowhere even close, but the words were perfect. It was exactly how he saw himself and relief flooded over me as I now knew that she had realised it too, albeit a little late.

She went on, her voice now alive. She sounded like a five year old on Christmas Eve. "Oh, I can't wait to do it again next weekend Cass. It's going to be so much fun. God, it's been ages since I was spit-roasted. I'm so fucking horny, I'm going to be a fucking machine. Nothing off limits. No holes barred. I'm back in the game, girlfriend!"

Then she signed off by tossing a handheld nuclear device into the quiet, suburban garden. "Oh and Cassie - I think you're going to like this next bit. After that euphoric weekend, I decided at work today - when Alex comes back, I'm fucking-well outta here. The girl is bailing out."

Shellshocked, I knelt at the window as Madison and her friend discussed her decision and the finer details of what their next weekend of debauchery would entail. It left me almost giddy and I would have quite a few more scenarios to envisage when I fantasised about what I'd like to do to my step-mother.

If she went at it at Cassie's gathering as she had gone at the booze, it would be a spectacular sight.

That night my movie of choice was a MILF orgy that just happened to include a redhead. She was no Madison, but it was a good watch.

Things were getting interesting. If I had known how much more interesting they would get over the next few weeks, I wouldn't have slept a wink.

I tried to keep out of her way for the next few days, not knowing how I would react if I saw her up close after hearing her revelations. The part of me that resented her receded into the background. She was a red-hot babe and if she was planning to extricate herself from my father's malign clutches, then I was very happy indeed.

I avoided her until the Friday morning, when for once I was up early. We had a big game at the weekend and me and a few mates had arranged for a morning session in the nets to try and come up with a strategy to combat their wily Indian leg-spinner.

As I came downstairs there was a clatter from the letterbox and she emerged from the kitchen to pick up the post. She said good morning as she absently tossed the junk into the recycling and sifted through the rest. There was a pile for my father, which I said I'd drop into his office on my way back up.

That left one envelope in her hand. "Ooh, for me!" She tore at it and quickly stuffed what appeared to be a handwritten note back inside. "Oh shit, only work stuff. I'll read it on the train." She glanced over her shoulder as she headed back to the door where her overnight bag waited. "Machine's still on if you want a cup. I'm off for another girly weekend so see you Monday. Hope you score loads of runs and win big!"

She reached the door and took her bag in one hand while trying to stuff the letter into her handbag with the other. She left with a cheery wave, which didn't surprise me given the things I had heard she and Cassie planning with almost military precision a few nights earlier.

I went back up and delivered the Universe Boss's post to his office and sorted my cricket bag out. I was just on my way out when the landline rang. Expecting a cold call, I gave a non-committal greeting down the line. The last thing I expected was to hear Madison's voice. Railway announcements in the background told me she was at the station.