Your Wish Come True (revised): Chapter 22-Good Grief free porn video

Your Wish Come True by Pol Roger Chapter 22 Good Grief "O Lord, you have shown me my end, how short is the length of my days. Now I know how fleeting is my life." Psalm 39:4(38:5) THE drawing room was dark and empty when Mandy emerged from the library, as was the whole downstairs of the house, with just one lamp on the hall table lit. She realised it was now after midnight and everyone must have gone to bed. She crept up the stairs and slipped into her room. Good grief! she exclaimed to herself when she saw her face in the dressing table mirror. This was what McLean was looking at the whole time we were talking! Her mascara had not only run, but was smudged all over her face from wiping her eyes. She now saw what a mess she had made of McLean's handkerchief. Even her hair was somehow a tangled nest. Or so it seemed to her. Mandy washed her face, brushed her hair, changed into her nightie and climbed into bed. She usually checked for messages on her phone and e- mails on her laptop last thing at night, but tonight she felt wrung-out and apprehensive. She decided to go straight to sleep. There was a slight knock at the door between her room and Emma's. "Mandy, are you there? Can I come in?" Emma called softly. "Yes, come in," she said. Can someone feel relief and dread at the same time, she wondered, as the door opened. Emma came and sat down on the side of the bed. "Can I turn on the light?" Emma asked. "If you like," said Mandy. Emma switched on the bedside lamp near her. "You disappeared earlier," Emma said after a long silence. "Peter knocked on your door," she added. "I was just across the hall, in the library," Mandy answered. "Oh," Emma said flatly. "I thought you were probably in there." "How is everyone?" Mandy asked. It seemed a foolish question once she asked it. "Shattered," Emma said. "Why did you leave?" she added after another pause. "Why?" Mandy started to get upset again. "The look you gave me. Like you hated me!" She thought she was 'cried-out', but tears began to prick her eyes again. "I don't hate you," Emma said. Another pause. "It wasn't because you realised the jig was up?" she finally asked. "What! No! Emma, everything I've said to you is the truth. I'm as shocked and confused as you by this ... news." "Are you?" Emma replied. Mandy was quietly sniffling beside her. After a while, Emma let out a deep sigh. "Honestly, I don't know what to think," she said. "Something very weird is definitely going on. All this fucking money and multinational companies run by people who only just got the job. And computers downloading business degrees into people's brains, and ... and GCSEs and A-Levels and shit. And your ... story. It's totally fucked, and it all seems to be focussed on you." She paused again. "And now Dad's dead. And I can't help wondering, what part did you play in it?" "What part did I ...?" Mandy spluttered, "Emma, how can you think ... no, Em, I'm as surprised as you. I don't know anything about ... about the body. I just know what I told you was true. And I told you everything I know. As far as I know I'm--was--Derek Ross. That's all who I remember being until I changed. Remember how you asked me anything and I knew it? You can do that again now. Ask me anything." "Maybe I should just tell the police what I know," Emma seemed to be talking to herself. "The police! Emma, think what you're saying! They won't believe any of what I told you. They'll think I'm crazy. Or that you are." Mandy's thoughts were racing. A dreadful thought occurred to her. "Em, you can't possibly think I had anything to do with ... the body they found? That maybe I killed your Dad? Is that actually what you're thinking? Why would I? For money? I'm the one with all the money--as it turns out. If what you're inferring is true--and there was something between Derek and me--he'd be the one to kill me, wouldn't he? To steal the fortune, or to shut me up, or however that works. A schoolgirl wouldn't kill her solicitor, who was helping her inherit millions of dollars and ... and helping her when her family had just been wiped out, would she? If she did, I can think of only one reason, can't you? Self-defence. Is that what you want to think of your father? You wondered that yourself when you first saw me like this. Remember?" Emma looked at Mandy coldly. It hadn't actually occurred to her that Mandy had killed her father, but she was was feeling so numb and conflicted that the idea didn't seem so far-fetched. "You could be a psychopath," she said. "A fantasist. A raving looney bloody psycho!" Mandy felt a sharp pain in her chest. She let out something between a deep groan and a sob, and began to hyperventilate. Emma actually became concerned. Mandy looked at her briefly with wild eyes, then slid off the bed and staggered shakily to the bathroom. Emma could hear her retching into the lavatory bowl. She followed her into the bathroom. Mandy was lying on the bathroom floor, perspiring and breathing heavily. "Are you alright?" Emma asked. "No," Mandy groaned. "Maybe I should call a doctor. Or an ambulance." said Emma. "Call the police if you like. Or the looney bin. Have me put away. A dangerous psycho." Emma hesitated. "Look, I just want some answers. I don't really think you had anything to do with Dad's death, but I believed you and it's all going to shit and I feel so stupid for getting sucked in. I want to know if ... why you've been lying to me or if you really believe your own story and ... need help. You really don't look well," she added. "I think I coughed up my kidneys," Mandy was amazed she could muster a joke. "Shall I get help?" Emma asked, changing her tone. "Do you need anything?" "No," Mandy sighed. "I just need you to listen. I just wish you'd trust me." Emma seemed ready to bite back, but she hesitated. She was fighting back her own tears. "I wish I could," she croaked. "I want to." Mandy held out her hand. It hovered in the air for what seemed an age. At last Emma reached out her hand and grasped it. Emma sat down next to Mandy. They still held each other's hands. "This floor is quite cold, isn't it?" Emma commented after a while. "Yes. Very cold," Mandy confirmed. "Em, Can we talk for a bit? Calmly? Let's go back into the bedroom. Just give me a moment." Emma sat back on the bed and Mandy joined her after splashing some water on her face. "I was going over things while I was downstairs,' Mandy began. 'First, do we know that it is the body Derek Ross?' Emma stiffened. 'Just listen. Let's assume that it is. Where does that leave us? You already spelled out some of that. One: I could be mad and made it all up or imagined it--about being your Dad; two: I could be a psycho who killed him; three: he tried to ... take advantage of me--shh, Em, hear me out--and I fought him off. And, in any of those scenarios, instead of calling the police and trying to explain things in a plausible way I concocted an elaborate story (which I only told his daughter!) that exonerated Derek of any wrongdoing, while somehow being able to get rid of the body without any trace (until now) and then convince his daughter that the story was true, drawing on the exhaustive knowledge of every aspect of his, and his family's, life that I somehow obtained from Derek in the short time I spent with him." Emma's brow began to furrow. Mandy continued, 'Or, going back a bit, if Mad Mandy the Psycho killed Derek in her psycho rage--or let's say unintentionally in a psychotic state--why didn't she then concoct a story that it was self-defence 'cos he tried to rape her or whatever, and save having to dispose of the body somehow--without any trace? Or why not just say it was a an accident? Or just admit she wasn't in her right mind? Why get rid of the body at all? Why then claim she was Derek? And only tell you? Do we know how ... the person died?' Why hadn't she thought of asking this earlier? "They think it was drowning," Emma answered. "God! Poor man. Wait ... So if he drowned, why would you think I had anything to do with it?" Mandy asked. Emma shrugged her shoulders. "I never said you killed him. That was you, jumping to conclusions. I already told you that. I just want to know what you had to do with it. You have to admit it's suspicious how you were there, and the crazy story you told. I admit I can't really work out a motive for that, apart from you being a fantasist. Look, you have to admit it's just impossible and crazy. It just is." "I always admitted that," Mandy said quietly. "Except that it's true. Alright," Mandy resumed before Emma could interrupt, "did they determine when he died?" Mandy asked. "They couldn't say for certain. Quite some time ago. It was very decomposed, they said. The police didn't want to tell us any of this on the phone, but Mum kept pressing them. Then she was so upset she told us everything they said." Mandy waited for Emma to continue. "Apparently fish ... fish have been eating the corpse. There are parts badly disfigured. The face ..." Emma's own face contorted for a moment. She held her hands over her eyes until she could bring herself under control. "... and hands are almost gone." "Face and hands disfigured!" Mandy repeated. "So no-one can formally identify the body?" "They said it would be best if none of us even saw it. They used DNA to identify it. From Dad's flat," Emma explained. "Where was it found?" Mandy asked. "In the river. Near Battersea Bridge," Emma replied. "Not far from home. They suspect suicide, don't they?" Emma nodded. "What plods! Don't you see, Emma?" Mandy seemed excited. "It's bollocks! Something's wrong. Look at it: Drowned. Decomposed--so a long time in the water. Face and hands that could help identification--eaten away. Suspected suicide (that means there was nothing weighing the body down, or nothing suspicious anyway, and no marks of violence), so it must have been found floating or washed up, mustn't it?--because there wasn't any search--they weren't looking for it. And this is the clincher: found in the river not far from home." Emma looked puzzled. "Why is that odd? If Dad killed himself, or was killed," she added sternly, "that's where it might happen, isn't it?" "Yes," Mandy said, "exactly. That's where it would very likely happen. And it might make sense if it had been found quickly. But the Thames has a very strong flow. And it's tidal. Bodies are never recovered close to where they enter the water, unless weighed down or snagged on something. Not if it was in the water some time. I just can't see how it wouldn't have drifted a long way downstream." "So, you're saying ... you think it might not be Dad?" Emma was beginning to see Mandy's point. "I'm saying if you look at the facts, there's reason for doubt." "But the DNA ..." "Yes, there's that. But so much of this doesn't add up at I think it needs to be verified. Double-checked," Mandy said. "By someone independent." "And if it's confirmed?" Emma queried. "Okay, let's go back a step," Mandy answered. "We already considered 'mad Mandy' and 'murderous Mandy'. If we have 'suicidal Derek' and 'totally innocent clueless Mandy', why did I concoct a cock-and-bull story about being Derek? It would have been better to just say nothing, wouldn't it?" "But that's been my point, why did you ..." Emma interrupted. "Okay, yeah, I see. The fantasist. Look, let's leave that for now," Mandy ploughed on. "So if it is Derek's body--and let's just say I'm telling the truth--then ..." Mandy stopped. "Yes? Then what?" Emma pressed. "It seemed more reasonable earlier," Mandy hesitated. "What did? What were you thinking?" Emma asked. "Umm. I wondered, whether perhaps, maybe I'd somehow swapped bodies with Mandy Vero, and she was the one that drowned in my body." Emma made a derisive grunt. "Yeah, well the other thing I considered was maybe I was brainwashed or hypnotised, you know, by the computer, and given the memories of Derek Ross. Made to think I was him. Which means I'm not really ... But why would ..." Mandy stopped talking and rubbed her eyes. "Sorry. I can't think any more." "You know, that could be possible," Emma speculated. "I know how powerful the computer stuff is. But who could be behind it? What about that man that wanted to see Dad's laptop?" "Yes, he was interested in my laptop. I think we're getting somewhere. What was on the laptop that would interest him? Wait! Could he have somehow known about ... "Emma, the wish! It all comes back to the wish--only I didn't know it was a wish--I told you all about that.' Mandy tried to concentrate. 'That's when it started. No. Emma,' she finally insisted, 'I wasn't hypnotised. I'm sure I got changed. It was happening in stages. I remember it clearly." (I remember those mental changes, sort of, Mandy qualified silently. The wish, I only remember vaguely. I'd had a bit to drink ... But all that's beside the point.) "Emma," Mandy announced, "I'm sure that body isn't me--Derek, I mean. It can't be. What I told you was the truth. I don't know how or why, but that's what happened. You believe me now, don't you?" Emma was silent. "I don't know," she said after a while. "But you have convinced me there's more to think about. We'll talk some more in the morning. I have to get some sleep." "Me too," Mandy replied. She felt a bit more hopeful about things, and realised she was feeling exhausted. "By the way," Emma said sleepily as she stood in the doorway, "It's 'implied'." "What is?" Mandy wondered groggily. "It's 'implied', not 'inferred'. You 'imply' by what you say, I 'infer' by what I think. And vice versa. They mean different things. You said earlier you didn't like what I was inferring. You meant implying." "No, Em, you're wrong. People do get them confused and use 'infer' wrongly, but I didn't. I was pointing out you had made the wrong inference. Your conclusion was incorrect. I've talked to you before about that." "Hmm. So you have. I thought I had you this time. Goodnight." # MANDY was once again the last one down to breakfast. It was a much more subdued party than the previous morning. Nevertheless, Dianne and Peter wished her good morning and smiled as she entered. Emma looked up and gave her a sheepish smile. As she turned to the buffet, she caught McLean's eye, who raised an eyebrow. She couldn't help smiling back in return. She sat down once again next to Peter, having taken only a few dates and a handful of nuts from the buffet. McLean poured coffee into her cup. "We were a bit concerned about you last night, Mandy, when you left without a word.' Dianne said. 'It must have been very upsetting for you to hear about Derek's death, so close to your own terrible loss." That's right! Mandy realised. She kept forgetting she was supposed to have been tragically orphaned recently. "No, I was alright," Mandy lied. "I thought you all should have your privacy. I hope it didn't seem rude. I'm so terribly sorry for you all." Her voice began to crack, partly because of the emotion of the night before but also because she felt genuinely upset for them, realising what they must all be feeling. "Thank you, Mandy," Dianne said, "but I don't think any of us are alright." She paused for a moment, collecting her thoughts. "You shouldn't have felt we didn't want you with us; you're like part of the family, if you don't mind me saying so. "Mandy, we've had a lovely time staying here with you and Emma, and I'm sorry it it's ended so sadly. But we'll just try to deal with this a step at a time, and make sure we stay kind to each other." Emma put her arm around her mother. Dianne reached across the table to Peter and took his hand. He turned to Mandy beside him and took her hand as well. # McLEAN had brought Dianne's car round and was loading their luggage. Emma walked outside with Dianne. Mandy and Peter followed behind. Just as they were about to go out the door Peter stopped her. "I've really liked spending time with you,' he told her rather nervously. 'Sorry it all got spoiled." "No, Peter," Mandy replied, taking both his hands in hers, "Don't think that. I just hope you'll all be okay. I know how devastated you all must be feeling." "Yes," he agreed. "I suppose in the back of my mind I sort of thought Dad might be dead. I've been trying not to think about it, but that's what I kept coming back to. You're the only one I've told that to. Though I think Mum was probably thinking the same. Emma was the only one that seemed not to be worried." "No, Peter, she's been very worried!" Mandy replied. "Mmm. Yes, I see that now. I think I misjudged her a bit. That was why it's been so good here the last couple of days. I knew you, at least, understood how I might be feeling." (Did I? Mandy wondered. Oh yes. Orphaned.) "Anyway," Peter continued, "I hope I'll see some more of you back in London. We can chat on Facebook if you like. Maybe hang out sometime?" "That'd be lovely!" replied Mandy. She missed seeing much of Peter. "Really? Great!" Peter enthused. "Really great! I'd better go. We'll catch up soon. Bye." Peter leaned down and kissed Mandy on the mouth, lingering for just a second. Mandy automatically kissed back--just for a second. Her lips were tingling, as she watched Peter walk outside, turning to give her one last smile. After a moment's hesitation, she went out as well, joining Emma in waving Dianne and Peter off. "Whatever you said to Peter seems to have cheered him up," Emma commented as they went back inside to wait for Jeremy, who was driving them back to London, to bring the car. Mandy felt her lips with her fingertips. They still tingled. # "WHAT will you do when we've gone, with no-one to 'butle' for?' Mandy asked McLean as she waited for Emma to come downstairs so they could leave. "Oh, you know. Look after the house, clean the silver, catalogue the wine cellar, drink beer down the pub wi' John Diggory. Eat big meals. Go for runs. Help wi' the gardens, and also up at the Hall wi' the lads. Make tea for Lady Harriet and her cronies when she's here. Don't you worry, I'll be busy," he answered. "Will you be alright?" she asked seriously. "Och, yes! Will you?" he countered. "I think so. Thanks to you." She reached up and gave him a hug. Emma came noisily down the stairs. R "YOU'RE getting very familiar with the help," Emma said drily as the car circled round the medieval pump house in the centre of Little Beckley's village square in order to turn back to London. Mandy discreetly touched her lips with her finger and pointed towards Jeremy in the driver's seat. "I'll talk to you about it later," she whispered. Emma pursed her lips and nodded. # "I LOOKED him up on Google," Mandy told Emma. "I found out he won the Military Cross. He never told me that." They were back in London, having a cup of tea brought to them by Teresa. "Is that good?" Emma questioned. "It sounds good." She didn't really know much about such things. "I think it's, like, one or two below the Victoria Cross, so, pretty good," Mandy replied. "Anyway, he was in Afghanistan--for a couple of years, I think--and it all got to him. One of his friends got blown up and he was injured as well, so he came back home. But he didn't do very well, what with shell-shock, or PTSD as they call it now." "Then how did he end up a butler?" Emma asked impatiently. "I'm coming to that," Mandy continued. "He'd come to the end of his tether, sort of thing, and was going to top himself. No, really!" she confirmed after Emma gasped. "And he was about to send his family an e- mail, you know, saying goodbye and that, when he got one himself--an e- mail, that is--out of nowhere, offering him a job as a butler." "Well, that's an anti-climax," Emma said glumly. "Just listen, I haven't finished," said Mandy. "So he got this e-mail about being a butler. And he thought it was funny--as in "ha-ha!"--but he read it and then he says he blacked out or something after checking ... a brochure, I think he said. And when he came to, he knew all about butling and really wanted to do it. Sound familiar?" "Fuck." "And that's why he's all 'by the book' and 'these are the rules' and 'I know how to be a butler because it's all here in my head now'. He's never actually done it in real life until this week. And I s'pose being in the army so long probably made him a bit of a stickler for rules and discipline and all. If you think about it, he did quite well, didn't he? For a first-time butler, I mean," Mandy concluded. "And you say he's quite nice when he stops being an arsehole?" Emma queried. "When was he an arsehole? He thinks he's doing it how it's meant to be done. He didn't make any mistakes or drop anything, did he? In fact, did you notice how he arranged all our clothes according to colour when he unpacked? And he wrapped all my knickers in tissue paper when he packed for us to go! Em, what did he do wrong apart from tell us what we should call him? And give you the best room, because technically you're the boss and I'm a 'child of the house', or however he put it. He may be a bit stuffy, but I think he'll mellow when he gets to know some other butlers or something. Or we get used to him and having butlers and cooks and maids and what-not. He's one of the kindest people I've ever met." "And he was really going to top himself?" Emma asked after a thoughtful pause. "That's right. So he got caught up into whatever is happening--to me, and ... you. But in another sense, he was, sort of, well ... saved, wasn't he?" "We need to find out if you're really dead." Emma shook her head. "I mean, if the body they found is really Dad. How are we going to do that? Mandy, I'm scared. What's really going on?" "I wish I knew," Mandy answered. # NO, you had your wish, she told herself firmly when she was thinking about this conversation later that night, sitting in her room with her laptop checking messages and e-mails. You should stop trying to interfere. You might muck things up. I just need to understand what's going on, she countered to herself. Emma needs to trust me. She needs to know I'm telling the truth. And ... so do I. I need to know I'm not going mad. Is that so wrong? The question hung in the air. Her thoughts started to become a bit fuzzy ... Mandy gave her head a shake. Had she nodded off? She went back to her laptop. She had several e-mails from Sam and Peter, and also one from Gemma, checking everything was still on track for her to play for her clarinet exam. Mandy spent some time looking at her MySpace and Bebo accounts and sent some messages and shared YouTube music videos of some Shakira and Nora Jones songs. She saw Gemma had posted a clip of Red Hot Chilli Peppers' Snow (Hey Oh), and after listening to the song commented how much she loved it. She tried Facebook next and sent a Facebook 'friend request' to James McLean, wondering whether he would think it proper to accept. A suggestion came up to be friends with John and Consuela Diggory, as well as Charles, Maria and Philip Diggory. She followed the suggestion, sending requests to them all. She supposed McLean must be Facebook Friends with them all, which was why she got prompted. There had been quite a few junk e-mails as well, she vaguely remembered as she closed her e-mail browser. She seemed to have deleted them all. # " ... DAD was a very reserved person. He hated fuss and expected things to be done properly and without ostentation. He could sometimes seem a bit stuffy and critical, but I think it was just that he was actually extremely shy. He didn't easily form close friendships--he made no secret of that--and it made him sometimes seem a bit aloof." Emma had been the last to speak, standing--like those before her--at the podium inside the somewhat shabby chapel at the West London Crematorium at Kensal Green Cemetery. About sixty people, mainly members of the legal profession, were seated on worn chairs facing the dais on which the coffin rested, on the warm, clear afternoon of Thursday 26 April, exactly two weeks after they arrived back in London. "But I think that inside he felt things very deeply." She looked over to Mandy, who had been in tears more than once during the service. "And I understand, now,' she continued, "that he was ... that he was desperately lonely." Emma paused to collect herself. She was roused by the sound of Mandy blowing her nose. (Mandy had been very touched by Brian Ball's tribute, and deeply affected by Dianne's moving and surprisingly candid eulogy. Peter had elected to read Henry Scott-Holland's' Death Is Nothing At All--suggested by the celebrant--not trusting himself to give a lengthier tribute. Even so, he had nearly broken down several times, especially towards the end.) "I know he missed seeing his family every day over the last few years," continued Emma, "I think I've only recently understood how dreadfully he missed that. We missed him, too." Emma paused again to pull herself together, and glanced once more at Mandy. "Mum's already covered the reasons she and Dad split up. Dad always made sure Peter and I were looked after, and Mum and he never let their differences affect the way they treated us. They never, ever said anything unkind about the other in front of us. "Of course, we were affected." She paused again. "But knowing our parents would do anything for us helped us to keep things normal, if that's the right word, and we always knew Dad was there for us if we needed him. "I'm sorry if he didn't realise, or sometimes didn't feel, ... that we were there for him." Emma's voice quavered and she gripped the podium tightly. "He did have his pleasures, and his prejudices!" she continued. "He may not have been all that physically fit, but he could move like lightning to reach the remote control if any pop music came on the TV, or to change the station on the radio if anything that wasn't classical music came on. Although, he also loved jazz, and he tolerated show tunes and even pop music written before 1950. Or should that be 1850? Before I was born, anyway. Before he was born, in fact." (A few gentle titters from the congregation.) "He displayed the same skill and speed if any sport came on the TV, especially tennis!" (More good-natured laughter.) "Music was his true passion, and his wide knowledge of Romantic composers, especially, was amazing. I remember him playing Chopin and Rachmaninov, and sometimes Beethoven, to us when we were small. "Then he seemed to give up the piano as we got older. Maybe he wanted us to be using it--to practice--instead. And we did sometimes practice. Or I did, anyway; I'm not sure about Peter.' (A few indulgent smiles.) " ... Brian Ball spoke about how respected he was in the legal profession, and how meticulous he was in preparing a brief, or analysing a document, or advising a client. As Brian said, he wasn't just interested in winning cases or helping his clients get the best outcome; he cared very much about what was right, and sometimes tried to steer his clients toward a just outcome for everyone, especially where there were disputes. I'm not sure whether that makes him a good or a bad lawyer! (Some laughter) but it marked him out as a good and just man. And I know lots of his clients appreciated his wise counsel, about not just winning a particular case, but how they should live their lives afterwards. "Dad wasn't religious. But I've been thinking lately that maybe he was searching for something more, something greater, something that gave meaning to what we all have to go through. "In the end, he used to say, life is about helping people." Emma looked directly at Mandy as she finished. "If there's a God," she said in a firm voice, "I hope he can be kind to the person lying here." Mandy nodded, approvingly. # "THANKS, Em. Well done. Exactly right," Mandy hugged Emma afterwards as the dark-suited and black-dressed congregation gathered in groups or hovered, waiting to talk to Dianne or Brian or one of the children, outside the chapel. The celebrant had already gone, after a few brief words with the family. "And thank you for what you said about ... your Dad," she added. Brian and Cynthia came over to congratulate Emma on her tribute and give her a hug. "Thank you, Brian," Mandy said, "you spoke beautifully. Those stories you told were very funny. I'm sure Derek would have loved you remembering those things." Brian gave Mandy a hug. "I'm glad to see you here. It must be hard, after all you've been through." They all chatted for a while longer until people began to disperse. Some of them were going back to Dianne's house. Mandy and Emma waited together while the crowd dwindled until Dianne and Peter in their turn finally started towards the car park, telling them they'd see them soon "back at the house". They began to follow, but detoured for a moment to speak to a man who had been standing the whole time at a discreet distance, watching the proceedings. "I can't thank you enough, James," Emma said. "You could have got into a lot of trouble." She actually gave him a hug. "It's nothing, Miss," McLean answered. "Just part of the job. I've done a lot riskier things, as it happens," he smiled modestly. He turned to Mandy. "Whoever said being in service was dull and boring, eh?" Mandy hugged him as well. "Thank you, so much," she said.