More Memories

AJ always had an eye for a bargain. That's why he obtained so many things in bulk - sometimes including his women. But I well remember the little round face lighting up when a two-for-one offer was extended to his favourite bedside reference book. He could quote whole chapters verbatim. In the end he bought ten volumes. The hardbacks were best. Standing on the pile did wonders added several inches.

Hot Lips

I can visualise that strange cross between a cheeky grin and a crude licentious leer. And I know that he is at it yet again. It is the wife with whom I sympathise. Another day, another dolly. The predictability of his behaviour is Pavolovian. But through that unmistakable mouth of his will come his own painful downfall. For he can never resist opening it. To me, to you, to any passing journalist or acquaintance. And as a bragger it always opens too far.

Pulamania

The gravel spat out from beneath the tread of fast-turning wheels. Brakes squealing, doors slamming, feet rushing in – and then the unmistakable sound of cuff metal clicking over warm wrists. But this was no ordinary raid by Avon and Somerset’s S & M squad. In any case the boys from S & M knew the Whitefield barn too well by now! This was different. This time they had come for evidence. They were piling computers into police vans. They were taking out boxes of strange disguises. The fiends involved clearly liked pretending they were other people. One even claimed to be the Chief Executive. A squat figure with a plummy accent protested his innocence from beneath a regulation blanket as he was led away. He muttered something about having relatives in high places. And all the while my man grinned and laughed in smug self satisfaction. He had laid the trap and these silly little people ( many of whom might well have suffered troubled childhoods ) were going to be made to be sorry. Very very sorry. And then my eyes opened. And all was still. It had been a dream even if AJ had convinced himself otherwise. I wish he would simply stick to the medication.

A J

Those piercing eyes! Those smooth, manicured, tactile fingers. That faraway look of injured innocence. How fresh and recent it all seems. Yet how long ago, lost in the mists of forgotten meetings. Snatched glances beneath the flip charts. Muttered affections as the coffee was poured. The accidental touch of a knee sometimes. The smile of confidence mixed with the look of yearning. His Powerpoints were always pithy. That is how I would prefer to remember him. Strong. Courageous. Excellent. But it all went wrong. I thought it was love. He knew it was lust. My frailty. Our tragedy. And someone was going to have to pay. Luckily I logged the calls, retained the texts and kept the few handwritten notes. I am tempted to publish some soon.