The one that got away

Who would have thought it? It had been twenty years but I recognised him the minute he walked into the room. Roger Burnistan, my first love. I remembered when I was thirteen and he was sixteen. He was so grown up, so wonderful. Everything about him had screamed bad boy but even at that young age I knew he was the boy for me.

He went away. We never knew where. Some of the village gossips said borstal, other to some kind of army boot camp. His father claimed he had gone to university. But he was only sixteen when he left and he never came back for the holidays. He was clever but not university clever, street smarts I would call it these days. When he did come back he had grown and the skinniness of his body had matured and bulked out. He wasn’t overly muscled but he had a body you would want to see naked. Not an ounce of fat and when his father made him work on the farm he lifted bags of feed and hay bales as if they were filled with cotton wool. The way he lifted me the first time and lay on the straw in the hay loft I felt like I was made of china and he would do anything to protect me. I had grown since he left and now at eighteen I had inherited my mum’s Rita Hayworth figure.

The summer was hot and Roger worked in the field shirtless. I made sure I cycled passed in my shortest shorts and tightest top. I knew he couldn’t resist and when I got a puncture one day he rushed over to help. I couldn’t believe my luck when the rain started and we dived into the barn for cover. The kiss melted me and I knew more was coming. Then he laid me on the straw and as he kissed my neck he slowly stroked my leg, his hand getting slightly higher with each movement. I don’t know why but as his hand reached the button on my shorts and started to undo it I panicked. I jumped up and ran out into the rain and back down the lane until I made it home. His dad brought my bike back the next day. I started dressing more sensibly and when the local boys started to sneer and giggle as I walked passed I learnt to ignore them. Not long after I went to university and never returned to my little village again. I always wondered what it was that had made me stop him and thought how my life might have been very different if I hadn’t. And today for the first time in twenty years I was to come face to face with him.

Roger stood in front of me and from the look in his eyes I could tell he didn’t know who I was. I smiled and his eyes flickered in recognition.

‘Roger Burnistan,’ I said. ‘I am arresting you for the rape and murder of fifteen girls. You do not have to say anything. However, it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.’

Yes how different my life might have been.

Under the gun

She studied her feet and could see his, almost touching her’s. He was that close.

‘You think that was good enough? You think that was good enough?’ He snarled.

She didn’t look up, didn’t dare. She knew it hadn’t been good enough and she knew how angry it made him when she didn’t try. He placed two fingers under her chin and lifted her face. She looked in his eyes and could see his disappointment.

‘Get back down there,’ he jerked his head behind her to indicate where she needed to move to. She turned and walked in the direction. She walked purposely, not too slow but not too fast. She needed to gather her thoughts. Eventually she stopped and turned to face him. She couldn’t see his face in detail but she knew the scowl he would be wearing, she had seen it enough times. The scowl he had worn before, but this time it was different, this time he knew she had let herself, and him, down. She crouched down and watched as he raised the gun.

She saw the smoke before she heard the sound and she was off. Racing towards him for all she was worth. Pounding along the ground, racing, and covering the ground like a cougar. Breathing in all the right places not stopping to think just doing what was instinctive.

She screeched to a halt meters past him and turned to see his face. He head was bent, looking at his hand. He raised his head and lifted his hand so she could see the contents. A small silver stop watch. The hands stopped at exactly 11 seconds. He opened his arms and she ran to him. He picked her up and swung her round.

‘I knew you could do it.’ He said as he put her down. ‘We’re going to the Olympics and you my sweetheart are going to win the 100 metres.’

‘Oh Dad I knew we could do it.’ She said smiling and hugging him.

Birthday surprise

As I sat in the theatre I heard a mobile ‘phone ringing in the empty seat next to me. I slowly looked around. Everyone else was engrossed in the play. It rang again, the light from the screen lighting up most of the balcony section and showing the scowling faces turning towards me. I quickly picked it up and pressed the answer button.

'We have him,' a faint crackly voice whispered. 'If you want him back bring the formula to the warehouse at midnight. Come alone, or else!'

The phone went dead and I slowly looked around me, as I placed it back on the chair. I couldn't concentrate on the rest of the performance. This would show those bastards who had chosen not to come out for my birthday. Apparently a production of Frankenstein starring Benedict Cumberbatch and Johnny Lee Miller was not their idea of the way someone should spend their fortieth birthday. Well who’s bored now?

Whilst I kept an eye out for the occupant of the seat to return I tried to remember what he looked like. There had definitely been someone there when I arrived. He must have been a big man as he had sat with his legs splayed so far apart I had needed to exert a little pressure with my high heels on his foot to get the leg room that came with my seat. Apart from that I couldn't remember anything else about him. I couldn't even remember him leaving but as he was on the end of the row he wouldn't have disturbed anyone

 

I waited until there was no one else left in the balcony and picked up the 'phone. Maybe the box office could help. Once I was out in the foyer I realised the box office would be closed, so I headed over to a large uniformed gentleman standing by the door. He was wearing an ear piece so must have been some kind of security.

'Hi. Can you help me?'

'What seems to be the problem madam?'

I found this 'phone on the chair next to me and I was wondering if you could help me trace the owner.'

'Don't worry madam. I'll take it and see the owner gets it back.' He took the 'phone, almost snatching it from me and turned to walk away.

'There was a call. I have a message.'

He swung round, grabbed me under the elbow and propelled me to a door marked private. It was then I realised that ear piece seemed very high security for a theatre doorman.

 

I was left sitting in an office, I assumed the theatre manager's for about twenty minutes when finally the large guy came back. He was followed by a small man in a three piece suit.

'Now miss what is this all about?'

'Do you know the time?' I asked realising it was getting late and the deadline would be fast approaching.

'I am not sure what that has to do with anything.'

'They said they would hurt him if we didn't take the formula to the warehouse by midnight. The person who owns the 'phone is supposed to go alone. We need to find him. Or call the police. Someone's life could be in danger.'

The man stood and left the room leaving the doorman to stand guard. He stood there tall and straight, almost to attention. Not moving an inch. Not making a sound.

'Don't you realise we need to do something. You can't leave me in here. We need to get help.'

The door opened and the smaller man re-entered. ‘I need you to come with me.'

'Where to?'

'If you want to save time just do as you’re told.'

I followed him out of the theatre and was pushed into a limousine parked right outside. We drove out of the centre of London, towards Canary Wharf and the old docks. The car pulled up alongside an old warehouse and the driver got out and opened the door for me.

'Where are we? What's going on?'

He grabbed hold of me and dragged me towards the door. I pulled and scrapped my heels against the cobble stones but he was just too strong. He pulled opened the door, pushed me inside and slammed the door behind me. The warehouse was pitch black, no sign of light anywhere. I turned and started beating on the door.

Suddenly I was blinded by the lights as they were all switched on at once.

'Surprise,' loads of voices called at once. 'Happy Birthday!'

I was handed a glass of champagne as all the friends who had been too busy for the theatre rushed round to say hello.

'Bastards,' I smiled raising my glass to salute them.