This is only a story, and it contains adult material, which includes sex and intimate descriptive details pertaining to genitalia. If this is likely to offend, then don't read it.

Unfortunately no politicians were injured or killed in the writing of this story, and no one else was either.

If you enjoyed it, then please Email me and tell me. If you hated it, Email me and lie. I will always welcome contact.

tanya_jaya@yahoo.co.uk

The legal stuff.
This work is the property of the author, and the author retains full copyright, in relation to printed material, whether on paper or electronically. Any adaptation of the whole or part of the material for broadcast by radio, TV, or for stage plays or film, is the right of the author unless negotiated through legal contract. Permission is granted for it to be copied and read by individuals, and for no other purpose. Any commercial use by anyone other than the author is strictly prohibited, and may only be posted to free sites with the express permission of the author.

6.

We finished our last session by four thirty, and I have to confess, that I was clock watching for the last hour. Steve seems to have had a greater effect on me than I had thought.

I dashed upstairs, and put on a dark tight skirt and tights, and a pretty top, with a low collar. It was still cold, but I wanted to look good. I pulled on my long black boots, and threw on a warm sweater. I tried my old leather jacket on, and it was actually quite sexy. Although a boy's jacket, it looked really good.

I spent some time getting my makeup just right, and fussed with my hair. It was a little longer now, and I was planning to let it grow.

Sheri popped her head round the door.

“Aren't you ready yet?” she asked.

“Just finished,” I said, and put some bits in my shoulder bag. I looked at her, and I thought she looked stunning. She was wearing a pretty dress and a short coat. She had done her makeup in such a way to accentuate her exotic eyes and very high cheekbones. She had very long black hair, which cascaded half way down her back.

“You look fabulous, Sheri. I love your makeup,” I said.

“You look pretty good, yourself,” she said. I picked up my holdall, and wrapped my long scarf around my neck.

We went down stairs arm in arm.

Steve was waiting in the car park. He was by a blue Ford Mondeo, obviously his dad's. Dave was sitting in the car, less inclined to freeze his balls off than Steve was.

Steve was pacing up and down, wearing a path in the gravel. He saw us, and his face transformed into a huge grin.

He ran towards me, and I have to confess, my heart had a little flutter as he approached. I don't know quite what I expected, but he had obviously been bottling something up for the whole week.

Before I knew what had happened, he had wrapped his arms around my waist, and lifted me bodily into the air. I put my arms around his neck, partially because that was the only place I could put them, and partly because I wanted to.

I was about to say something rude, and I found that I couldn't, he was kissing me. Or rather, I found that we were kissing, as I confess that I was responding somewhat passionately.

In the meantime, Dave had got out of the car, and had given Sheri a shy kiss on the cheek. They were both standing staring at us. I broke off from the kiss, a little reluctantly, as I was enjoying it rather too much.

“Oi. Woah, slow down!” I said.

Steve let me back to planet earth, but still held onto me. I had dropped my bags on the gravel.

“Hi Steve, are you pleased to see me, or what?” I asked.

He just looked at me, and kissed me again.

“What. Definitely what,” he said. “You look fantastic. But then, even wearing a bin-bag you'd look great.”

“Flatterer. Are we staying here all day, or are we going to go for something to eat?” I asked.

He reluctantly released me, and put my bags in the car. Sheri already was in the car. She and Dave were sitting in the back.

“Hi Sheri, good to see you. I hear you are going to join us tomorrow after all?” Steve said.

“Yeah, is that okay?”

“That's brilliant. Are you staying with Emma tonight?” he asked.

“The plan is we both stay at the vicarage tonight and Saturday night, Sheri's dad will pick her up before lunch on Sunday, and will spend the day with her,” I said.

“Okay, now what first, food or movie?” he asked.

“It's too early for food, lets take the movie first, and then have something to eat afterwards,” I suggested.

Steve drove into Milton Keynes, and parked the car near the multiplex. We went into the cinema and looked at what was on offer. He kept one large arm wrapped very possessively around me, and it felt good. Dave was a little more restrained, and I noticed that Sheri threaded her arm through his.

“How about Men in Black?” Steve said.

I looked at the blurb, and noted that it was just about to start. To be honest, I wasn't that bothered, but it looked good.

“Fine by me, Sheri?”

“Okay.”

Steve went and paid for all of us, and I lingered by the popcorn. He grinned, bought a huge bucket, and gave it to me. I kissed him. Dave bought some for him and Sheri to share.

We sat in the middle at the back, and the lights went down just after we settled. I had taken my jacket and pullover off, and I found someone's left arm draped across my shoulders.

I sat and munched my way through the commercials and trailers. Occasionally, Steve would grab a handful of popcorn and munch away. Then the movie started, and I loved the opening scene of the bug flying across the desert. When it came to grief on the windscreen of the van, I jumped.

I felt Steve's arm tighten, as he gently squeezed me. I snuggled against him, and kept on munching.

Between us, we demolished the lot. I sat back and enjoyed the film. At some of the squishy and slimy bits, I caught him looking at me. I noticed that Sheri was hiding behind her hands, but I thought it was really cool.

I looked at Steve.

“What?” I whispered.

“You're really enjoying this aren't you?”

I nodded. I felt his hand tighten on my shoulder, and I looked at him. His other hand came across, and held my face; he leaned across, and kissed me again. I lifted my face and just went with him. I brought my left hand up and curled it around his neck.

I felt all warm and fuzzy, and my breasts started to tingle. His hand slipped from my face, and he gently cupped my left breast, squeezing slightly, and twiddling my nipple. I started to feel very good, and I held his head, and kissed him more vigorously.

He left my breast, and I felt his hand on my thigh, as he slipped it up my skirt. Feeling really tarty, I opened my legs, and felt his fingers on the outside of my knickers and tights. He just rubbed me, and I felt myself getting moist.

I dropped my hand to his waist, felt for his zip, and slowly undid it. His coat was covering what we were doing. I ran my hand inside, and his hot and very hard cock filled my hand. It was circumcised, and I ran my thumb over the knob. I felt his fluid seeping out of the little hole, and I grasped it and started to stroke him.

He had managed to get inside my tights and knickers, and his fingers were inside me. I was squirming with pleasure, and he found my clitoris. I would have screamed, if we were not locked together in a kiss. I came, and I felt myself all wet. He was moaning and I new he wasn't far away from coming, so I bent down, and took his cock into my mouth. Just as I wrapped my lips around it, I squeezed his hairy balls, and he shuddered and ejaculated into my mouth. He thrust himself deep into my throat, I nearly gagged, and swallowed his semen. I kept my mouth locked around his cock, until I felt him going soft. Then I came up and he smiled at me, I held his head, and drew him down to me, and kissed him, letting him taste what I had just had to swallow.

His fingers were still inside me, and I came again, then I pulled his hand away. I glanced at Sheri, and she and Dave were so engrossed in each other, they hadn't seen us.

I looked at the film, and had no idea what had happened. Steve put himself away, and put his arm around my shoulders again.

“I wouldn't mind a drink,” I whispered to him. He laughed, and got up.

He was back after a little while, and passed me a large paper cup. I was orange Fanta. He also gave me some tissues.

I smiled, “You made the mess, you can wipe it up,” I whispered to him. He started to, and I realised that this was defeating the object, as I was just getting worse every time he touched me. I took them from him and did it myself. I couldn't believe I had produced so much liquid.

We settled down and watched the film. I just couldn't believe just how easily that had come to me, and how natural it was. It dawned on me just how easy it would be to have sex, and fall pregnant.

We ended up at the Chinese restaurant at a little after eight. We ordered a huge set meal, and I lived up to my reputation, and ate like a pig. Sheri, bless her, had a small appetite, but I made up for her. I loved everything, the hors d'oeuvres, the crispy duck and pancakes, all the dishes, and even the green tea at the end. There was not a piece of food sent back to the kitchen.

Steve dropped Dave off first, and then took us to the vicarage. I kissed him, and let my hand linger near his groin.

“Thanks, for everything,” he said.

“You too,” I kissed him again, and then remembered Sheri who was outside waiting for me.

“Pick us up at noon, I have a couple more meeting us here. So there will be four of us.” I said.

“That's okay, I will have the van. We will drop the instruments off and I'll come and get you straight afterwards,” he said, and I kissed him again. My heart went aflutter again.

“I miss you already,” I said. He just grinned.

“But don't get any ideas, my ground rules still apply,” I added.

He nodded, “I can live with that,” he said, and grinned.

We watched as they drove away, then, turning, we went into the house.

Mary and Mike were in the sitting room, and were pleased to see us. I gave them both a hug, and we sat and told them all about our week and the evening. I was particularly bubbly, and could hardly stop talking.

Eventually we drifted off to bed. I undressing when Mary knocked on my door, it was open a little, and she came in. I was in my bra and knickers, and she sat on the bed. I took my bra off, slipped on my nightie, and then slipped my knickers off.

“I'm so pleased that your first date went so well,” she said.

“So am I. He's a nice boy.” I said. It dawned on me that I had given a blowjob to a boy on my first ever date. My God, what a tart!

“He is almost twenty. Does he know how old you are?” she asked.

I nodded.

“Sit down Emma. Please.”

I sat next to her, and she took one of my hands.

“It is so lovely that you are such a pretty and bright girl, and that you are having such a wonderful time. However, mistakes happen, and these mistakes completely change lives.

“I know this boy and his family, his mother Joan, and father Ron, and they are very nice. But, I do know that he thinks the world of you. I met his mother yesterday, and she went on and on about how smitten Stephen was. Just don't let things go too far, too soon. Oh, I'm making a right mess of this,” Mary moaned.

“No you aren't. I know what you are saying. I like Steve - I like him a lot. I'm not sure I need the complication of a serious relationship now. He makes me laugh, and I feel good with him around. After this evening, I am aware of how easy it would be to let him have sex with me, and I think I would probably really enjoy it. I want to be a singer, not a single mum. I don't want to have a reputation of opening my legs to any boy who I quite like. I won't have sex until I am old enough to deal with it, both the emotional aspect, and any consequences. I am not old enough yet,” I said.

“Would you like me to make an appointment with the doctor, so you can talk about contraception?” Mary said. I realised how hard it must be for her to talk like this to me.

“Mary, thank you, it is a very kind thought. But no, not yet. I have told Steve my ground rules, and I do trust him. My career must come first, and I need to take care of my mother at some stage,” I said.

“Promise me something?” she said.

“What?” I asked.

“Promise me that if you ever have sex, you take precautions.”

“I promise,” I said.

Mary smiled. “I'm sorry if I embarrassed you, Emma, but I don't want you to go through what Caroline did.”

“How many abortions did she have?” I asked.

Mary was almost in tears, and she looked at me in surprise.

“Two. How did you know?”

“I didn't, but it wasn't hard to figure out,” I said.

“She was fifteen when she fell pregnant the first time. Luckily, I noticed in time, otherwise we would have been too late. She never told us who the father was. I think it was someone local,” Mary said.

“I won't make the same mistakes, I promise,” I said.

She gave me a hug, and felt me alone.

I was too wound up to sleep, so I took another look at Caroline's clothes. I wanted something smart for the gig, and so I took everything out of the wardrobe, and put it all on the bed.

I noticed a box on the floor, right at the back of the walk-in wardrobe. I picked it up. It was an old shoebox, and it had an elastic band around it. With my curiosity stimulated, I opened it. There was a small notebook and some letters inside.

Feeling rather a snoop, I read some of the letters. Most were from a boy called Ricky, and he was not the brightest bulb in the box. His writing was poor, and his spelling and grammar were terrible. I guessed that he was about sixteen when he wrote them, and by the dates, she was a little younger.

There was nothing in them which indicated any knowledge or awareness of Caroline's pregnancy. I put them away, rather bored. Then I looked at the notebook. It was a plain little book, but Caroline had ruled it as a diary. I was looking at the year when she was fifteen, in 1988.

Most of it was dull,

Friday, argued with dad, he is so stuffy.

Saturday: Rained.

Sunday: Mum got upset with my new hairstyle.

Monday: got a letter from R.

And so on.

Then I came to another entry:

Sunday: CG smiled at me again, I think he fancies me.

Monday: CG came to see dad, but he looked at my legs.

Wednesday: CG suggested I baby sit for them.

Friday: Baby-sat for Billy, got £10.

Sunday: CG Touched me. Amazing.

Tuesday: Baby-sat. £10.

Wednesday: CG kissed me.

Friday: CG told me he loves me.

Saturday: CG put his fingers inside me. Wonderful!

Sunday: CG's wife away, I took him a report for Dad. He fucked me... Amazing...

It went on, and she recorded seventeen sexual encounters with CG. Then came the entry: Wednesday: I am really late. I was sick last night.

Thursday: Sick again. I think I'm pregnant. CG said, I couldn't get pregnant if I was standing up.

I suddenly despised CG, and had no idea who he was. He was married, and had a child younger than Caroline. I didn't even know anyone with CG as initials. Oh, yes I did. Charles Gregson - The slime! It all fitted, he was married, had the right aged child, who just happens to be called William, and Charles would require reports from Mike as part of the PCC set up.

I became angry, now I knew.

I read the diary again.

Saturday: Told CG, he told me it couldn't have been him, but he had been the only one.

Sunday: went to see CG, he told me that he would tell everyone that I sold myself to anyone.

Monday: Mum found me crying, and guessed.

Wednesday: Seen Doctor. Confirmed. Booked at clinic.

Tuesday: Clinic. Quick, but feel dreadful. I hate CG.

Friday: Saw CG, he gave me £500. He said he loves me, but couldn't take the shock.

That was enough, as I couldn't read anymore. I decided to do something about this, but what? And what if I was wrong?

I spent sometime thinking about it, and then I devised a wicked plan. I was grinning as I fell asleep.

I was up early the next morning, and Sheri and I persuaded Mary to take us into Milton Keynes. She didn't need much persuading, as she quite liked the idea of having a girly shopping morning. We arrived at about nine.

We went straight to see Pam, and we had our makeovers, I even persuaded Mary to have one. Pam was in good form, and really looking forward to the evening. I was completely skint now, and was looking forward to earning a few quid from the gig. I had my ears pierced, and the popping noise of the needle gun going through my ears will say with me for a very long time.

We did a little shopping, or rather they did, I just watched. It was so frustrating knowing that I was an heir to millions, and I didn't have a bean.

We were walking back to the car park, when my blood ran cold. Sitting on a bench was Raoul. He was watching everyone closely, or rather he was watching all the young men and boys closely. He glanced at us, each of us in turn. He stared right into my eyes, and I forced myself to laugh at something Sheri said. I noticed his eyes fell to my breasts, and then to my long legs. I was wearing a very short skirt, and he almost dribbled.

Then his eyes were onto the next target, a group of four teen-aged boys, all wearing baseball caps. He had seen me, and immediately discounted me for several reasons. I was so obviously female, I was tall, I was older, and he fancied me. I suddenly felt very confident.

“Hang on a mo, I thought I saw Pam, I just want to tell her something. I'll catch you up,” I said. They walked off towards the jewellers. I went to a payphone, and dialled 999.

“Emergency, what number are you calling from, and which service please?”

I gave the number, and got through to the police operator.

“Yes, there is a weird guy sitting on a bench in the main Milton Keynes shopping centre, by the Pizza Hut. He is staring at all the young boys, and I think he may be up to no good. He had something in his pocket, I think it might have been a gun.” I said.

The operator tried to get me to stay on the line, and I could see a CCTV camera start to move. I hung up the phone and ran to join the others.

They were looking in a shop window, and I noticed the camera angle reached the telephone box, and I was now fifty yards away.

Sheri was admiring some earrings, so we went into the shop. I was busy watching what was happening outside. Raoul was still on the bench, and he was staring at another small group of boys. Two uniform officers approached him. They were both carrying MP5 Carbines. They had sent an armed response vehicle.

It got better, because they challenged Raoul, and his hand flew to his jacket.

I clearly heard the policeman shout, “Armed Police! If you move I will shoot!”

They were both pointing their carbines at Raoul, and the policeman said, “Let me see both hands slowly. Do it now!”

Raoul produced his hands. They were empty.

“On top of your head. Now!”

He complied.

“Stand up. Now!”

He stood.

“Turn away from me. Now!”
He turned.

The other officer handed his colleague his carbine and went round to Raoul's side. He searched him, and pulled out a small black self-loading pistol. He held it up for the camera to monitor.

He concluded the search, and put handcuffs on Raoul. Two unarmed officers approached and took him to an awaiting van. While I watched, a white van pulled up, and a man with a big brief case went to the phone box. He put the case on the ground, and then dusted the phone for fingerprints. I smiled; Russell's prints were going to be all over it.

“Gosh, how exciting,” said Sheri. All shopping was suspended.

Mary looked at me, and frowned. Sheri went back to the earrings, and I said “Raoul.”

Mary's eyes widened, and she looked at the armed officers, as they took off their weapons, and got into their police car. Several unarmed officers were speaking to onlookers to see if anyone had called the police.

Sheri bought the earrings, and we left the shop. We returned to the car, and headed home again. I was rather quiet, but Sheri was excited about what we had seen.

“I wonder who he was. Do you think he was a terrorist?” she asked.

I shrugged.

“Who knows, it will be on the news or in the papers tomorrow,” Mary said, glancing at me.

When we got home, Sheri went to try on her earrings.

“Can I use your mobile, please Mary?” I asked.

She gave it to me. “Do I want to know?”

I shook my head.

I dialled DS Higgins' number.

“Hello DS Higgins?” I asked, making my voice sound boyish.

“Who is this?”

“Did you get the letter?”

“Russell is that you? Yes, I got the letter. I am happy that your prints were on it. I still need to see you.”

“That can't happen, not while my mother sends hit men after me.”

“What do you mean?”

“The man arrested with a gun, this morning in Milton Keynes, his name is Raoul Cavois, he was sent to kill me by my mother.”

“How do you know?”

“ You know I phoned it in. You've taken the prints from the phone, so you know I was there. Why else would her lover be loitering near where I went missing, staring at boys all day?”

“Who is he?”

“He runs a gym in Menton in the south of France. He believes that if I am bumped off she stands to inherit at least fifteen million pounds.”

“If you come in, we can protect you.”

“I'm not doing so bad out here, thanks all the same,” I said, and rung off.

Mary was watching me.

“I'd hate to make an enemy out of you,” she said.

I smiled. “Mary, you are the nearest thing to a proper mother that I have ever had. You and Mike mean the world to me, and I would never ever do anything to put you in danger,” I said. “Have you a photocopier I could use?”

“In Mike's study, why?”

“Believe me, you really don't want to know,” I said.

I went into Mike's study, and typed a few lines on the word processor. Being very careful, I printed it off. Then I copied the relevant pages from the notebook, and dug out an envelope. I addressed the envelope, using the computer, and inserted the sheets inside. I put a first class stamp on it, and put it in my bag. I then ensured that all trace of everything was erased from the computer.

I went up and collected a variety of clothes that I wanted to wear for the gig, and admired Sheri's earrings. It was about twenty past twelve, and Steve arrived in his van. I grabbed my bag, and put everything I thought I needed into a holdall.

“Have a wonderful time,” Mary said, as I hugged her goodbye.

“Thanks. I don't know what time we will be back.”

She gave me a back door key.

Steve greeted me as if we'd been parted for months, and eventually we set off for Winslow. We all fitted in the front, with me next to Steve. He was clearly quite excited, and he told us why.

“My brother was coming tonight, with some of the lads from work. But they arrested a kidnapper today, and he is part of one of my brother's jobs.” Steve said.

“Oh yes, what was that all about?” I asked. Knowing the answer.

“Well, there is this kid, he goes missing from his school, a big posh private school. Not far from here as it happens. Anyway, a few weeks back, he just ups and vanishes, overnight. The school report him missing and contact the mother, his Dad is dead, and his mum is French and a right bitch by all accounts, and lives somewhere in the south of France.

“Anyway she comes over, and the DS meets her in Aylesbury, and she doesn't want to know. She stands to inherit a bundle if this kid dies. The police run a press release, and the kid phones in, on an unlisted mobile, and tells the DS that he is fit and well, and has no intention of going back to school. The DS gives the job to Brian, my brother, and tells him to make local enquiries to trace the boy. Apparently, he was seen just after four am by a lorry driver, heading towards Aylesbury.

“Then, the boy sends a letter to the DS, and his prints are all over it. He alleges that his mother will try to get some French bloke, her lover, to kill him, and make it look like an accident. Well today, the police get a 999 call from a phone box in Milton Keynes, it was anonymous, but they think it was the boy. He states that this French bloke is in Milton Keynes, and he has a gun. The Support Group ARV turns up and sure enough, there is a French bloke with a gun. They interviewed him all day, and he said nothing, but they found his car, a mobile, and loads of documents and photographs, which all linked him with the mother. So now they are wanting the French Police to arrest the mother.”

“Oh. We saw it all,” said Sheri.

“Really?”

“Yeah, didn't we Emma? We were in the jewellers over the road, and suddenly these police officers with guns came over and shouted at a guy on a bench. It must have been him. We must have walked right past him. We saw them take the gun off him and everything,” she said.

“Did you give your names to the police?” he asked.

“No. We only saw the police arresting the guy, so did hundreds of people. It isn't everyday you see police with machine guns running about,” I said.

I managed to change the subject, and we were soon pulling up outside the hall. We went in, and found that it was nearly three times the size of the church hall we had in Little Mudsley. The band was all set up, and there was a reasonable dressing area to the rear of the stage.

Karen, Johanna and Suzy, three of the girls from our year, arrived in Karen's beaten up old mini. They all looked glamorous, and the guys in the band perked up noticeably.

We went up on the stage, and tried to work out where we were all going to stand. We checked off the numbers we knew, which weren't a lot, but we had the music and words, placed where we could see them.

For about half the numbers, Sheri and I, Suzy, Karen and Johanna were the backing singers, and Steve sang the main lyrics. But for the other half, I was the main vocalist. We rehearsed those first, and I was pleased. I picked up the lyrics quite fast, as I was reasonably familiar with all the songs anyhow. I placed the songbooks within easy sight, and felt confident that I could manage.

We then rehearsed the rest, and worked out some simple steps and routines that would give a sexy dimension to our performance.

We then went back, and rehearsed the whole lot again, in the order we were going to do them. Steve was grinning at the start, and by the end, we all were, only his grin was very wide.

We had all decided to wear black mini-skirts, and show as much leg as possible. I had a black skirt, with a very tight black top, that left my mid-rift bare. I had a pair of very long elegant fingerless gloves, which came up above my elbows. I planned to wear my long black boots with the high heels, and tights.

When we all changed, we found that we had all decided to be in black, and we looked really cool. Our make up from the makeover was fine, and Sheri and I helped the others create some good effects. We had lots of glitter and had a lot of fun with it.

We heard the hall filling up, and I began to get nervous. I looked at the others, and we were all getting a bit jittery. Steve brought over some water, and we had a good drink, the last thing we wanted was to have dry throats.

There had been quite a bit of publicity for the evening, and Steve had put “Emma & the Four ‘M's” as a backing group, on the posters. The first number was to have a real heavy base rhythm, and I was going to sing it to a bump and grind routine, similar to Kylie Minogue at her raunchiest. It had been written by some of the band, as were several numbers.

I peeped through the curtain, and the place was absolutely packed. The organiser came in, looking really pleased, he saw us, and his smile got bigger. “Five minutes.” he said.

We took our places. The stage was in darkness, and we all had our backs to the audience. The curtain went back, and Dave counted us is on the drums, “One, two, three, four”…………….and we were off.

I spun round, and walked right up to the edge of the stage, and the spot hit me, the girls all came in on cue and the band were spot on. The adrenaline flowed, and I just went for it. I sang my heart out, and I strutted, wiggled, and showed them my boobs. I walked up and down, and teased all the guys at the front. They loved it. I saw Pam in the crowd, about ten feet front from the front, and I gave her a wave. The girls were great, and the simple but very sexy routines looked very slick.

We went straight into the second number, and I sang Karma Chameleon, and I thought I did it better than Boy George.

The rest of the gig, just flowed, and as we went on, I thought we got better. It was nice to drop back, and be part of the backing group for a while, I was getting exhausted up at the front.

At one point, Steve and I sang a slow duet, and we both had to read the words from the sheet, but we were sitting on high stools at the front, and it went really well.

We finished up with a couple of Rock and Roll classics, and the whole hall was heaving. The applause when we finished our last number was deafening, and I felt on top of the world. We five girls all came to the front, and took the bows together, and the band joined us, with a guy between each of us.

The slow hand clapping started, and we had to give them one more. We had a quick confab, I suggested a real oldie, and they all grinned. Wes, on base guitar, started us off with a simulated motorcycle engine rev, and I launched into, He was the leader of the pack.

Finally, it was over, and for the first time I looked at the clock. I was one a.m., and I was totally knackered.

A small group of friends were permitted to stay, and Pam and her dweeb and another pair of friends came up to me.

“Hey, Emma. Why didn't you tell me you were a professional? You were brilliant. You all were,” she said.

“Thanks Pam. Grab a drink,” I said, drinking from a water bottle.

“Emma this is Paul,” Pam indicated a nice enough looking lad, I didn't think he was a dweeb.

“Hi Paul. Did you enjoy it?” I asked.

“You were great,” he said, grabbing a bottle of Bud.

Pam introduced me to her friends, whom I instantly forgot. They were very complimentary, but my brain was shutting down, bit by bit.

Steve shouted, “Brian. You made it, man.”

I saw some men walk through the crowd. The front one was obviously Steve's brother; he was very similar, just a bit stockier. There was another man, much the same age, but tall, and thin, and the man at the back was older, mid thirties, and with short dark hair. He was wearing a leather jacket, and they all had “COP” written all over them.

They walked over, the older man looked at me, and our eyes met. He had icy blue eyes, and he looked hard. I met his stare, and he was the one to break away.

“Brian, this is Emma. She's the girl I was telling you about. Emma, this is my brother, that is Mick Harmon, and the old guy is Ron Higgins.”

They shook my hand, and Ron held my hand rather tightly, I thought. The other girls were introduced, and the party seemed just to take off. I was sitting on the stage, and Ron came over, he had a bottle of beer in his hand.

“Hi, can I get you a drink?” he asked.

I waved my bottle of water at him. “I need to re-hydrate. Booze is not the best thing for me,” I said.

He sat down next to me.

“You were all very good, are you professionals?”

“Not yet, we are all at the Teesdale College of Performing Arts, in Buckingham. Steve and I met at a charity gig at a church hall, and he ask if we would like to add a bit of colour to the event,” I explained.

“I really enjoyed it, but I have to confess, it's not really my scene,” he said.

“It takes all sorts,” I said.

“How long have you been at college?”

“It's my first year, of a two year diploma course,” I said, neglecting to mention that I only started in February.

“Are you enjoying it?”

“I love it. There are some great people, and it's all good fun. How about you, do you like being a detective?” I asked.

“Am I that obvious?” he asked, chuckling.

“I suppose you could have C.I.D. tattooed on your forehead. That would do the trick,” I said.

He laughed.

“Are you married?” I asked.

“Why, are you interested?”

“No, but I like to know about people.”

“What do you think?” he asked.

“You don't have a ring, but that means nothing, your shirt is ironed, your trousers are ironed, with tramlines, you enjoy drinking from a bottle, when no one is around to complain. Yes, I reckon you are married, and you hate the way she irons your trousers, but it beats the hell out of doing it yourself,” I said.

He looked at me strangely.

“I'm impressed, as it happens you are right. Did Steve tell you?”

I laughed and shook my head.

“No I've not heard of you until you were introduced to me,” I said.

“Then you should seriously consider becoming a police woman,” he said.

I laughed.

“Hardly. But I understand that there was a bit of excitement in Milton Keynes this morning?”

“Oh. What was that then?” he asked guardedly.

“Well, Sheri and I were in a jewellers, and we saw this man being arrested by policemen with guns. I was rather exciting,” I said. I knew that Steve would tell Brian that we were there, and so it would be better coming from me.

Ron looked very interested.

“Where were you when he was arrested?” he asked.

“In the little jewellers. About fifty or sixty yards away. Why?”

“Did you notice the man, or walk past him?”

“Not that I remember, he was just sitting on the bench. Wait a minute, yes, he looked at my legs, and I thought, ‘In your dreams.' He looked a bit weird.”

“Did he say anything to you?”

“No. He stared at my legs, and then at Sheri's. Then he seemed more interested in a group of boys. Was he a pervert?” I asked.

“I don't know, I doubt it. Could you see the phone box from where you were?”

“Is there one? I don't remember seeing one,” I said.

“I suppose you've got a mobile, most young people seemed to be glued to them?”

“No, I can't afford one. There is a payphone in college, and besides, Steve is the only sad muppet I would call, and he always calls me. He's got a mobile,” I said.

Ron fumbled in his jacket.

“If you looked at a photo, could you tell me if you saw this boy near the place you were when the man was arrested?” he asked, and handed me a photograph of me. Well, of Russell, it made my skin crawl a little, but I had to smile at the situation.

I held the photo. It was the same one as had been in the paper.

I shook my head. I really had changed, as this was someone very different to the me that I was so enjoying being.

I saw Sheri, I called her over, and handed her the photo.

“Ron is looking for this boy. He may be something to do with the man we saw arrested. Did you see him hanging around near there?” I asked.

“Oh. He's the kid from the papers, the rich kid who went missing from a posh school,” Sheri said.

I pretended to look again.

“Oh yes. He was in the papers a few weeks ago, I remember now,” I said.

We both decided we hadn't seen him.

“There were loads of kids around, most of the boys were wearing hats,” Sheri said.

“What is the connection?” I asked.

“I can't say at the moment, but he may be in danger. If you do see him, call the police,” Ron said.

“What is his name?” asked Sheri.

“Russell Drysdale. He's fifteen, and has no family in the country. We think he is still in the area, but he is proving quite resourceful, and to be honest, I quite admire him,” Ron said.

“Poor kid. Has he no money or anything?” asked Sheri.

“He has a bank card, with some money in his account, but hasn't used it. I think that he is being looked after by someone, and they must know who he is.”

“So who or what is he running from?” I asked.

Ron shrugged. “I'm not sure, it could be his mother. She is hardly the loving mother type, or it could just be he was unhappy, and left the school. It is not the most liberal establishment I have ever visited. But I really do think that there is some danger for him. He is line to inherit quite a bundle, and if he should disappear, mummy will not be that upset,” Ron had told us nearly everything, and I had to smile.

“What a cow,” said Sheri. “Have you met her?”

“Yes, she came to Aylesbury police station, and she was a hard woman. I expected to have a tearful case on my hands, but not a bit of it. Her first words were, ‘Little bastard, I'll fucking kill him.' so she did not immediately endear herself to me. I don't blame Russell for buggering off, really,” he admitted.

“Do you think he is disguising himself, and just waiting for the fuss to die down?” I asked.

“Probably, but he must come forward eventually, as his mother will go to court to have him declared dead, if no one hears from him for a set period.”

“Has he not been in touch at all?” I asked.

“I've spoken to him, and he has sent me letters, with his prints over them. As long as he keeps in contact with me, he should be fine. But I really need to see him, to satisfy a court that he is still alive,” Ron explained.

“So, if I pretended to be him, and claimed the inheritance, I could be rich,” I said.

Ron laughed.

“Emma, you may be a very talented singer, and probably an actress as well, but somehow you could never convince anyone that you are a boy. I'm sorry, there are some girls who may pass as boys, but you will never be one of them,” he said.

“Oh, I don't know, I have blonde hair and look a little like him,” I said.

“Yeah, but so do thousands of boys, and they do not have certain physical features that disqualify them straight away,” he said, staring at my breasts.

I folded my arms and giggled.

Steve fought his way through to me, and slipped his arm around my shoulders. Ron noticed and nodded slowly.

“Well done, Steve, it was a good show. You all did well. The girls made it special, but you know that, don't you?” Ron asked.

Steve grinned and nodded. “Yeah, and one girl in particular, right Emma?” he said.

I just smiled.

“How long have you known each other?” Ron asked.

“A couple of months,” Steve said, which was bollocks. It was only about two weeks. If I needed any smoke screen, then Steve was supplying it.

“Well, here's to you. Success,” Ron said, and raised his bottle. He waved our bottles of water at him, and we all laughed. Ron wandered off.

“Do you want some grub, Emma?” Steve asked.

“What do you think?” I said. We both went off in search of food. Once we'd found some, Steve went off to find his brother.

Pam was chatting to Sheri, and the other girls, having found out what Pam did, were asking her all sorts of questions.

I saw her dweeb, Paul, standing by himself, looking a bit lonely. I went over to him.

“Hello Paul, Pam deserted you then?” I asked.

“Hi Emma, yes, they are into make up and stuff. Not really my area of expertise,” he said.

“What is?”

“What?”

“Your area of expertise, what do you like doing?” I asked.

“I work with my dad, he has a tiling business.”

“Shit. That sounds exciting,” I said sarcastically, but with a smile.

He smiled. “It's pretty dull, but it pays well.”

“So what do you do for excitement?” I asked.

“I like the movies, I play a little snooker, and sometimes I go fishing,” he said.

Then he looked at me.

“I don't seem to have much excitement, do I?”

“If you could do anything you wanted to do, right now, anywhere in the world, regardless of cost, what would you do?” I asked him.

He frowned and I caught him having a fleeting look at my breasts.

“Barring anything to do with anyone in this room getting undressed, that is,” I hastily added, and he had the grace to go red.

“I'd like to drive in a rally,” he said, after much thought.

“Why don't you?” I asked.

“I can't afford it,” he said.

“No one can go straight in at the top, but there are small local rallies, and you are earning money. Sell your fancy Ford Escort, get a Fiesta, and build your own rally car. Imagine, there you are chatting up a glamorous singer, and she asks you, what do you do for fun? What do you say? ‘I go fishing.' Or ‘Actually, I have built my own rally car, and I take part in regional rallies.'”

He grinned at me. “Do you think I could?”

“I haven't a clue, what matters is whether you think you could,” I said.

He nodded.

“I reckon I could, you know. I'd never thought about it before. But I've got room in the garage at home, and I'd have to get some more gear. Hey, I really think I could,” he said, getting the most excited I had seen him. Admittedly, I hadn't seen him for very long, but he was rather more animated now.

I left him, writing down things on the back of an old envelope, and went and sat down to eat my sandwiches and chicken leg.

Steve found me just as I finished. He was grinning, and he sat down next to me.

“What are you looking so happy for?” I asked.

“Two reasons, one, we got paid, and here is your cut,” he said handing over an envelope. I opened it and there were ten £20 notes in it. I started calculating how much to give each of the girls.

“Hey, Emma, I've paid the girls, they each got £100. That is yours,” he said.

“Really?”

“Yeah, and the second thing is we've been booked up for another three gigs, each Saturday for the next three weeks. Are you interested, the other girls are?”

“Of course, where?”

“Next week in Buckingham, the week after that in Milton Keynes, and the one after that back here again. The Milton Keynes hall is twice the size as this,” he said.

“Can I make a suggestion?” I said.

“Anything.”

“We have got to get together during the week for a rehearsal. We need to do at least one a week every week. We managed tonight, but the time we rehearsed was too short. I will ask Mrs Teesdale if you can come into the college and we could use the concert room to rehearse. Okay?” I asked.

“That sounds great. Will we be allowed to?”

“I can but ask.”

He went off to tell the band, and I slipped out, crossed the road and posted a letter.

We eventually crawled into bed at three a.m. Sheri's dad was picking her up at nine thirty from the vicarage, and then there was the church service at ten. I went unconscious.

Mary woke me up at nine. I managed to drag myself downstairs, and managed to pour some of the cornflakes into a bowl. I was rather stiff.

“I hear it went well,” Mary said.

“I went brilliantly. I've earned my first pay, so I can start repaying you,” I said. I took out the £200, and counted out £100.

“That is for you, I have to give £80 to Gwen, and I'll keep £20 for me. That's fair,” I said.

“Don't be silly, you need everything you can get,” Mary said.

“Please take it. I know how tight things are for you. I need very little, and I will be earning some again next week,” I said.

“Emma, I can't take your money, not when you have so little.”

I simply got up, kissed her, and stuffed the money into her hand.

“That's the end of this discussion. Look, you have given me so much, let me do a little in return, please?”

She nodded, and said, “Bless you.”

We went to the morning service, and I sang as well as I could, but I was rather croaky after the previous night. I noticed Charles Gregson, and his family. His wife was a rather timid little woman, and their son, William, was a younger version of Charles. This was the lad that Caroline had looked after at the time of the diary.

I tried to imagine his reaction to the package he would receive in a couple of days. I had typed out a simple letter. I knew that what I was doing was blackmail, and that if caught I could face a prison sentence. However, this man had completely ruined three people's lives. I have no problem with anyone ruining their own life, a waste, but their problem. Nevertheless, to ruin other people's lives just because you are a selfish bastard, it wasn't defendable.

If that didn't shake him, then nothing would. I worried a little that it wasn't him, but as I read further parts of the diary, I became convinced I had the right man.

Mike dropped me back at the college that evening, and had hardly walked in the door, when Steve phoned asking me whether I had asked Gwen about the rehearsal possibilities.

I went and knocked on her door.

“Come in.”

I went in, and she sat at her desk.

“Ah, Emma. What can I do for you?” she asked.

I took out £80, and gave it to her.

“I sang with a band last night, and that is your 40%,” I told her.

She looked at it, and put it on her desk.

“Thank you. If you hadn't done this, I should never have known. That was very honourable,” she said.

“Gwen, I have been asked to sing again with the band, as have some of the other girls. Would it be possible for us to use some facilities within the college to rehearse after seven in the evening?” I asked.

“Of course, will the band want to come onto the campus?”

“Yes, if that is alright?” I asked.

She smiled.

“You haven't mentioned who else is involved,” She said.

I hesitated, I was aware that I had to pay my 40%, but I didn't know if anyone else was under the same contract.

She must have been reading my mind, for she said. “Emma, you are the only scholarship student, at the moment. However, I will levy a standard charge of £10 per rehearsal session. It is nominal, but it will keep the status quo.”

I smiled. “Thanks Gwen.”

I left her, and went to phone Steve to tell him the news.

Tanya Allen

© 5 December 2004