Loneliness Trilogy Bundle Boxset (25 page)

Friends of the Hadleys say that Mrs. Hadley sits at home, worrying for the safety of her child; that she spends her days crying. These friends report that Mr. Hadley is rapidly becoming exasperated by his wife’s moods and tears, and that he is actively searching out a new lover.

I lower the rag, then, on impulse, wrinkle it.

“Whoa, let me see that,” says Marcus.

“You won’t like it,” I tell him.

I watch his face as he reads the rag. I see his face darken as he reaches the part that details how he’s supposed to be looking for a new lover.

Oh, my fuckin’ God! I’m sorry, but this is rubbish, tripe! All we can do is ignore it, Jo. It’s almost over, except for the verdict and sentencing.”

“Let’s get practicing, guys. My ‘depressed’ self feels the need,” I snark at them.

That day, my practicing is better than it has been for a while - seems that, when someone makes me mad, I really throw myself into my work! I sit around writing new songs, and really work on making my voice stronger.

As we drive home, I look around, trying to see if I can spot any rag reporters. Of course, it would be anyone, so I can’t really say that the woman pushing her child in the pram, or the man walking down the windy street holding his lunchbox are reporters spying on us. Still, I’m very grateful when we pull in through the electronic gate at the back of our home.

After feeding the three of us, I bathe Lizzie and take her to bed. Marcus and I pull our Christmas decorations out of the storage closet. While it’s still mid-November, we decide to put our tree and decorations up. I want the home to feel like Christmas. After several hours, the family room, stairway banister and other rooms are decorated, giving our home a definite Christmasy air. I love the holidays and I am ready for us to get back in the holiday spirit.

That night, after we go to bed, Marcus begins running his hands over my body and I play with his body in response. As he plays with my nipples, my wet pussy, and my clit, he gives me light slaps on my pussy, which stimulate me to an even higher degree of passion.

I slap him back lightly on his penis. As he feels the slaps, Marcus’ hips jerk in response.

“Oh, my God, Marcus, I want you! Now!”

In response, he plays my body even more. His thumb massages my clit and his fingers enter my pussy and he rubs and slides in and out of me simultaneously. The twin sensations bring me to my peak very quickly. Throbbing, I thrust my hips and feel my pussy contracting around Marcus’ fingers. I close my eyes, seeing fireworks. I can’t wait any longer. I need to feel him inside of me.

“Now! Now, dammit!” I tell him.

Marcus mounts me, sliding in between my legs. He prods at me with his large cock, barely entering me, then pulling back out. This makes me come again.

I grab his ass and pull him into me. The sensation of his hard, throbbing dick sliding into me causes me to come yet again.

In response, Marcus thrusts his hips once, then slides over the edge of sensation, jetting into me.

“Johanna! My God, I’ve been wanting you all day long, girl!”

“Ever since we read that pitiful article? Oh, my God, keep doing that! Yes, that! I’ve been wanting you all day long, too!”

Marcus positions himself so that, as he thrusts, he brushes against my G-spot, causing me to come repeatedly.

Not wanting to wake Lizzie, I bury my face in Marcus’ shoulder and scream my release and satisfaction.

I get up to go to the bathroom and slip into my nightgown. Once I’m back in bed, I cuddle against my husband’s warm, trim body and start dozing off.

I dream that I’m in the magistrate’s court room and I’m waiting to learn the jury’s verdict.

“Because of the continued harassment from the tabloids, once the jury gives their sentences for both young women, I will pronounce sentence, if they are found guilty. Before I ask for the verdicts, I just have got to reprimand the tabloids, for their continued behaviors in following the Hadley family. I read the ‘news’ account covering Mrs. Hadley’s supposed crying and depression, and I must say, this is a new low. While the tabloids’ reporters have respected the letter of my orders, they have continued to make light of the experiences of the Hadleys in an attempt to gain more sales.

I will be continuing to read these rags and, if I see anything that mentions Mr. Hadley, Mrs. Hadley or their child, and if that mention is patently untrue, I will level a heavy fine against the tabloids and every. Single. Reporter. Who. Participates. In. Those. Lies. Representatives are here, I know that - each and every one of you should be ashamed of yourselves and you should act accordingly.

“With that said, what is the verdict for Miss Wells?”

“Guilty, sir. We find Miss Wells guilty of the charges against her.”

“Thank you for your service. Miss Wells, please stand. You have been found guilty of all the charges against you. Notwithstanding your mental health diagnoses, I am sentencing you to life behind bars, with no opportunity for parole.”

“No! I intended no harm to Marcus Hadley! I only wanted…”

“SILENCE! Take her back to her cell. She will be sent to prison in north England, where she will serve her sentence for the rest of her life.”

Once Cara and her attorney leave, guards bring Melanie Stabb in. The jury in her case files in and takes their seats.

I look at her. She’s still emaciated, but dark roots are growing out of her brightly colored hair. She’s visibly nervous and twitches as she sits at the defense table.

“What is your verdict for Miss Stabb, please?”

“Sir, we find Miss Stabb guilty of every charge against her.”

“Thank you for your service.Miss Stabb, please stand. I sentence you to serve a life sentence with no poss…”

“NO! Not for helping my friend!” Melanie stands and begins screaming as she tries to stride out from behind the defense table.

Guards jump and race to restrain Melanie, pulling her back to the defense table so she can hear the rest of that the magistrate has to say.

“As I was saying, you will serve a life sentence behind bars, with no possibility of parole. You attempted to capitalize on your childhood and diagnosis of borderline personality disorder, and that is shameful. You attempted to rip a baby from her parents’ arms. I don’t buy that you were trying to help your friend. You simply wanted to be involved in causing pain to others, for whatever reason. Society must be protected from you - for the rest of your life. Take her back to jail. She will be transported to a prison in Scotland. She will have no opportunity for contact or communication with Miss Wells.”

My eyes open suddenly. Our tour is still more than one month away, just after Christmas. I think about the juries and the magistrate, pondering their decisions. I hope it won’t take that long for the jury and magistrate to give verdicts and sentences! They have got to be found guilty!

“Can’t sleep, luv?” Marcus voice drifts from the other side of our bed.

“No. Just had a freaky dream about the trials.”

“You, too? What was yours about?”

“The jury’s verdicts and the magistrate’s sentences. Both Cara and Melanie were found guilty in my dream. Both lost it when they learnt what their sentences would be. Life for both, no parole. Did you dream the same thing?”

“Hah! I wish! Your dream is the one I wanted to have. No, in mine, they both got off scot-free, then came after us.”

“Oh, Lord, Marcus, no! I’m telling you, if they get off, I want to leave England. Go live somewhere else in Europe or in America somewhere.”

“I’m thinking the same, actually…but, you know, with technology and that damned 24-hour news cycle, it would make not one jot of a difference. All they would have to do is plug into the Internet and they could find us…” Marcus snaps his fingers. “Just like that.”

Oh, Marcus, that is so depressing!” I turn and wedge into his side, seeking comfort and warmth. All of a sudden, I am freezing cold inside. The fear overwhelms me and I begin to cry.

Marcus wraps his arms around me and rocks me like a small child.

“There, there, luv, we’ll figure something out. Let’s just pray they’re both found guilty. It’s clear they both have mental issues. At the least, they’ll be remanded to some kind of mental institution.”

“Yeah! Mental issues out the wazoo! I wonder…does England have any legal provisions for life-long commitments to mental hospitals?”

“Don’t know, but I’m sure we can find out. I’ll Google that before practice tomorrow. If I can’t find anything, I’ll ask the prosecuting barrister. Come on. Tomorrow’s a busy day for both of us and we need our sleep,” Marcus says.

I roll over and we sleep spoon-style. Feeling Marcus’ warmth surrounding me, I feel much safer, and a random thought flits through my sleepy brain. Maybe things will turn out as they should. It’s clear they’re nuttier than a field of pecan trees.

We wake the next morning and, when we get Lizzie up, it’s immediately clear we aren’t leaving the house. She’s flushed, coughing, feverish and cranky.

“Oy, Marcus! Call the doctor, please. I think Lizzie is ill!”

“D’you want an appointment for this morning? How about practice?”

“Soonest appointment you can secure and call Tim. Please let him know Lizzie’s sick and, save for the doctor, she shouldn’t be out and about.”

At the doctor’s office, we are seen after close to an hour’s wait. We’re fortunate - others come in later and will end up waiting far longer. Still, the wait proves too long for Lizzie. She vomits, getting the sick all over herself and us. We sigh, pulling her clothing off and wrapping a blanket around her. We have no changes of clothing for us. Right after this happens, the nurse calls us back to an examination room, where she takes Lizzie’s vital signs.

“Oh, you poor little luv! Not feeling well are you? Mum, dad, take these cloths and wipe the worst of the sick off you. Doctor will be in presently.”

We wait another twenty minutes and Lizzie spews again. This time we’re prepared and we move out of the way as I keep my hands on her feverish body and head. Shortly after, doctor comes in and examines our little girl.

“Fever, cough, congestion and vomiting. Has Lizzie had a flu shot this year?”

“Yes, we all had them,” I say.

“Well, she managed to get sick, regardless. I’m prescribing an antiviral that’s safe for small children. Start giving this to her immediately and she should turn the corner within forty-eight hours or thereabouts. Johanna, you need to protect yourself the most, as a singer. You should both start taking a prophylactic dosage of this medication as well. It’ll prevent your voice from being too badly impacted if you get sick. Marcus, take your girls home and go pick up three prescriptions. Mum, get your little girl into bed and start giving her clear fluids. Acetaminophen only for her fever and aches, every four hours. No solids as yet. Once she hasn’t vomited for at least twenty-four hours, start her on non-dairy foods, such as chicken broths with soft vegetables. Crackers. Flat soda. Weak tea. Nothing heavy, greasy or spicy. And watch out for your own health, will you?”

“Thank you, doctor. We’ll do all this.”

“How will you practice?”

“At home. Vocal exercises, lots of water and I’ll sing my songs in a different room when the baby’s resting.”

“Good job.”

At home, I clean Lizzie up and give her a few sips of cool water, all she could tolerate, apparently. After changing to clean clothing, Marcus leaves for the apothecary and I toss our dirty clothing into the washer and start checking our stock of invalid foods. Lizzie will need sustenance so she can fight this virus. After Marcus returns, we take our doses of medication and, gently waking our daughter, give her first dose as well.

“I hate waking her, but she has to start taking this medication,” I tell Marcus after she takes the liquid. Looking back at my baby in her crib, I watch her for a few seconds before closing her door.

“Just think - the combination of sleep and that antiviral will have her set to rights in no time. She’ll be running around and creating her own special brand of havoc. In the meantime, we need to start increasing our own liquid and veggie intake. How about my special chicken soup for dinner?” Marcus suggests.

My stomach growls at the thought. “Ooooh, yes, please! Let me check the veggies and see what we have. I would really like some with vitamin C in our soup. Also, we need to separate out a small portion for Lizzie and spice it lightly so she can eat some tonight.”

We hurry to the large kitchen and I go through the pantry and fridge, identifying the veggies for our dinner. Marcus pulls out several chicken breasts.

“With skin, I think. I’ll peel it off, but I think the fat from the skin will do us all good.”

I look into the distance, considering. “I think you’re right. We can skim the fat off for Lizzie, but she’ll get the benefits.” Looking outside, I see snow beginning to fall from the gray clouds. “Marcus, look. Snow.”

“Picked a good time to start falling. We aren’t going anywhere. We have the medication, we have food, Lizzie has nappies, so we’re all set.”

While the chicken boils on the stove, I practice in a room as far from Lizzie’s room as I can get. After checking on her and going to the kitchen to make a quick lunch, Tim calls me.

“Hey, how’s Lizzie?”

“Knocked out. She has flu and she’s started antiviral medication. The doctor gave Marcus and me the same prescription and we’re taking it as a precautionary. What’s up?”

“The rest of us are sick, probably also the flu. Laslow’s coughing up a damn lung and Linny has a high temp. I just feel like shit. You two stay healthy. Did you just say something about antiviral medication? Don’t you have to start taking that right away?” Tim asks me.

“Yeah, oh no! We’re going to miss at least a week of practice! Yes, you have to start taking the medication within something like 48 hours of the first symptoms to get any real benefit from it. Call your doc and have him call the apothecary for a prescription,” I suggest. “Marcus is making homemade chicken soup right now. Lizzie will drink some broth tonight, and I think it’ll help all of us.”

“Chicken soup. The thought of water puts me off. Okay, thanks. I’ll call for the medication and get started on it. Would you do my a huge favor? Call Laslow and Linny and tell them to start taking it as well? I think I’m gonna be…” Clunk. The phone rattles to the table.