LIFE THERAPY

(Continuing David Blaine’s Story, which began with The Golden Orb)

Direct sequel to The Fortunate One

By Atonia Walpole

(Picture creations also by Atonia)

Part 1

He’d been floating in his morphine dream for four days. People came and went, sometimes he saw them and other times he heard them and then he was completely unaware.  He’d been moved, of that he was aware. The pain was excruciating.  He was in a place where nothing mattered anymore; he ignored people telling him to wake up. Little glimpses, cold room, bright lights, something over his mouth and nose, the struggle to breathe.  He preferred to sleep.

Cramer entered the hospital room. Blaine had been moved to a private hospital, the one attached to the flat where he’d been staying. He had two surgeries on his back, stitches on his face and lip. His right hand splinted. He always spoke to Blaine when he entered whether he got a reply or not.

“Morning, Blaine…I, ah, brought you some hard candies.” He set a little bag on the table by his bed and had a look at him. The bruising had reached its peak on his face and around his eyes and there was still a little blood on the inside of his nostrils. His nose was taped.

“I went out to see Ms. Langston and your daughter, let them know you were alive. I guess it would be all right for Ms. Langston to come and see you but I don’t know about the little girl. I told her you looked pretty bad. She said Lyssa was doing well and that she sends her love but probably wouldn’t be coming into London, at least not for awhile. Doc says once you come out of it they’ll be getting you up to move around. Damned if I see how. Well, I just wanted to let you know that I’d seen Lyssa and all was well.”  Cramer pulled the knit cap back on his head preparing to leave.

“Ummm…isssssaaa.”

Cramer’s face lit up. First time he’d heard him speak at all. “That’s right, Lyssa…she’s okay. She’s with Ms. Langston. I saw her myself.”

“Tell me…” David struggled.

“Tell you…tell you what, that you’re gonna be all right, take some time but you’ll be good as new. You’ve, ah, well, you broke your back in two places. That’s why you’re strapped up like you are. And, um, your hand, busted up your knuckles pretty bad. Everything else is just cuts and bruises.”

“Brownie…?”

“Dead. It was the fall of the elevator mostly that killed him, though he probably would have died anyway. His neck was broken. Aziz’s coroner says fall so that’s what we’re going with. No charges against you will be filed. I saw you go into the elevator. You were in shock and not looking for a fight. We had to replace the elevator so I’m still climbing stairs or getting lost through the maze of the building. I’m really sorry, Blaine.”

David closed his eyes and the tears seeped from their corners. He was conscious now. He wanted to cry, weep in private for Ali. There hadn’t been a chance for him to grieve and coming on the heels of Charlie’s death it was more than he was able to bear at the moment.

“Blaine, Blaine, are you...do, ah, I’ll, ah…” Cramer left to find a nurse or doctor or someone for him.

He was making little keening sounds when a nurse came to his side. She took his tears and obvious pain as something physical. Soon a shot of something entered his IV and he went back to the black blank place.

On the seventh day of his hospital stay a woman entered his room and sat quietly in the visitor’s chair. It wasn’t the first time she’d been in there. It was late. Regular visiting hours were over. She wanted to see him again, the man who had been occupying her flat, whose things were still there. Cramer had filled her in. The room was in semi-darkness. He’d been prepped for the night.

He became aware of her slowly without seeing her. She carried with her the scent from her flat and so he knew. Unconsciously he moved his left arm, pulling the tubes along with his hand.

“Hello?” he said quietly, still without opening his eyes.

“Hello to you, David Blaine.” Her voice was a low pitched melody.

“I’ve tried to guess your name…”

“Why?”

“I was in your space…certain things spoke to me there.”

“They didn’t tell you?”

“No. I imagined it something exotic.” She sounded perfectly English.

She smiled, “You’re going to be disappointed.”

“Disappoint me.”

“Mandi Manolovich.”

He opened his eyes and was not disappointed. She’d moved to his bedside, tall and slender with a mass of dark, straight hair that hung like a curtain past her shoulders. Her eyes were dark, too, and slightly tilted upward. “It suits you…Mandi.”

“I spoke with Cramer. He told me about you. I asked because I knew someone was staying there. Your things are still there in the closet. It’s okay that they’re there.”

“I can’t do…I’m unable to do anything about it.”

“It’s okay…I said.”

“You talked to Cramer. I am an invalid now. I can’t walk.”

“He told me that you have months of therapy ahead of you before you can walk again. He told me you have suffered great losses recently.”

“Yes.”

“You have a daughter. How old is she?”

“She is four. I have not seen her in weeks. She is with a friend in the country.”

“How do you get around…move?”

“I’m in that chair over there.”

Mandi glanced at the wheel chair. “When you can leave this bed, I would like to invite you to dinner at the flat. You know it is wheelchair friendly. All the flats are.”

“What will you feed me?”

“Em…curries.”

He smiled.

“Well, I should let you sleep.”

“Why did you come?”

“I…you slept in my bed.”

“Yes.”

“Good night, Mr. Blaine.”

He lay awake long after she left, savoring each thing they’d said and then he put it away like a dark secret he wanted to keep.

They were getting him up now. He spent more time in the chair. Someone had been in to talk with him about therapy and what he could expect. He was not enthusiastic about it and thought he wouldn’t have bothered at all if not for Lyssa. The cast was off his right hand now but the doctor wasn’t satisfied. He wanted to do more surgery and scheduled it for the next week. David looked down at his hand, still bruised and turning yellow brown. He was off the IV and taking his meds by mouth but still the needle was taped to his left wrist. He’d had a look at himself in the bath. Not too bad now everything was settling back to normal on his face.

“I know it’s asking a lot, it’s a drive, but if you could bring her I think it will be all right now. What is she doing?”

Martha Langston moved to her opened back door. “Jonathon Babbs, a neighbor, has brought me a kitten. Actually he brought it for Lyssa but such as he is that is the way he put it. She’s in the back garden crawling about a stone bench with the kitty. She’s all right, Blaine.”

“I miss her so much…I miss life.”

Martha held the phone closer to her ear. “Life is still here waiting for you to take it up again. I’ll bring her on the weekend. Saturday around noon, I think. Is there anything you’d like brought in?”

He thought about a sketch pad and then looked down at his hand. "No…no. What have you told her?”

“I told her that her Daddy had a job to do and when it was finished he would come for her. She doesn’t have much of a sense of time passing and hasn’t asked very many questions. She doesn’t know you’ve been hurt. I can tell her it was an accident…an on the job accident, not too far from the truth. You can explain about the hospital, I think.”

“I am so grateful to you. I don’t know how I will ever repay you for this kindness.”

“Just get well, Blaine, heal your body. I shall need you back at Hawthorne House. There is talk of reclaiming the Japanese garden and as soon as a benefactor is located to fund the project we can begin work.”

“How are you coping with Lyssa on the job?”

“Oh, Lyssa? Well, I just toss her in the back of the Rover with the wellies. She rides along and entertains herself quite well. You see, Blaine…life is waiting for you.”

Life. He’d spent a good deal of time flat on his back thinking about life and what direction it would take him. The house he owned held little appeal to him now. It was all tied up with memories of Charlie and the life they’d shared there. All that was gone, all gone except for Lyssa. He had her to think about and couldn’t just go about like a vagabond although that kind of existence might appeal to him for awhile. Disorder had never been something he could live with for very long and living out of a backpack would weigh heavy on his back in a short time. There was no running away. He would have to face it head on alone.

 

 

Part 2

“This is your wheelie chair?” Lyssa walked beside his chair and touched the wheels. “Can you ride it?”

“Yes, climb aboard and we will both ride.” He helped her up on his lap and wheeled the two of them down the hallway to a doorway leading out to a walled roof garden. “Look there! A bird has built a nest.”

“What kind of bird?”

“I don’t know, a wren, perhaps. We will have to see when the eggs hatch.”

“Are there eggs?”

“I’m sure of it. The bird comes every day with food so there must be another bird on the nest keeping the eggs warm.”

“A mommy bird…”

“Or a daddy bird. I believe there are some species of birds that share that task and sometimes daddy bird sits on the nest all the time.” Lyssa leaned into him and his arm went around her. “I miss you, little bird.”

“I miss you too. Daddy…don’t do any more jobs.”

“No…no, little one. As soon as I get out of here you and I will find a new place to live and Daddy will not go away to do anymore jobs. I may have to work sometimes with Ms. Langston.”

“That’s not work. You just dig and plant seeds.”

“Ah, sounds even more appealing,” he smiled and hugged her close.

“Do you have any idea, Blaine?” Martha Langston walked toward the elevator with Blaine, Lyssa running along ahead.

“No, they only say it depends. Depends on how I do with the therapy. It begins next week and I have talked with some people here. I can get a flat on a month to month basis. I’ve seen the flats here. Some are private residences but there are many for let to patients or patient's families. I don’t want to leave here until I can walk. I am sorry I know what it puts on you and if it is too much to ask I will find someone to care for her.”

“Nonsense! She can stay with me. We’re used to each other now. I’m glad I didn’t come earlier. I can see the traces on your face of the beating you suffered. This, ah, Mr. Cramer says you beat the other bloke to death.”

“He talks too much. He died of a broken neck. Whether it was from the fall of the elevator or not we will never know for sure. I like to think that I was responsible. He had much to pay for and his life was all he had in payment."

Martha looked at him a moment, clasping her big bag behind her back with both hands. “Funny, I would never have thought you had it in you. You’re a gentle soul,” she smiled a little and patted his shoulder.

Lyssa came over and climbed on him again for a big hug and a kiss. “You be good, Daddy, and they’ll let you come home.”

David smiled, “I’ll do my best.” He sat there at the elevators until they disappeared and then rolled himself back to the roof garden. His right hand ached and he laid it in his lap to rest. He’d forgotten to ask Martha if Lyssa mentioned her mother…mommy bird.

She only came at night, slipping quietly into his room to watch him sleep. She didn’t know of the times he’d awakened after she left and lay there breathing deeply until all of her scented essence was gone from the atmosphere. From the pale night light she could see how his lashes lay on his cheeks, his soft hair spread out beneath his head. It was long unfashionably long but she didn’t think he cared much for trendy fashion. The clothes he’d left in her room were expensive, classic and made to order.  She thought he may be wealthy because Cramer said he didn’t work.  There was nothing else Cramer could tell her that she couldn’t find out for herself. She’d unpacked his bag and sent his clothes to the cleaners. They were waiting now in plastic bags in her closet. Waiting for…him. Tonight she left him a note folded and placed in the palm of his left hand as he slept.

He turned it over and over in his hand.  I will come for you tomorrow at nine o’clock.

Was this the dinner invitation she’d mentioned? It seemed a strange thing to write but then it didn’t the more he thought about it. Different…she was different…interesting. He’d only talked with her that one time but he knew she’d been in his room several times. It puzzled him why she didn’t wake him.”

“Hallo, Mr. Blaine…”

“Why don’t you call me David and then I can call you Mandi?”

“All right…David, have you any clothes here?”

David looked down at his pajamas. “No…Cramer brought me some pajamas but that is all I have.”

“No matter,” she opened a bag. “I have your raincoat. It will do…slippers?”

“Socks…no slippers.”

“How do you get in the chair?”

He reached over and let the bed down and then scooted from the bed to the chair.

“Oh, very good! I thought you might be tired of this place. It’s a little cool outside, but dry. I’m taking you out to dinner.”

He smiled slowly. “What a grand idea.”

She smiled back and held his coat while he stuck his arms inside and settled it around him. “You don’t have to stay here, you know.” She got him turned around and headed for the door.

“I don’t have a place to go. I, ah, may take a flat here for a few months until I can walk again.”

She stopped him at the elevator and pushed a button. “You have a place to go. You’re already moved in.”

Bumped into the elevator, he sat quietly looking at the walls. Never again would he ride in an elevator without thinking of fighting for his life. He’d seen pictures of the elevator he and Brownie had fought in. It was hard to believe he survived. He felt her hand on his shoulder and looked up.

“It’s only an elevator after all and here we are ready to roll.” She shouldered her handbag and pushed him out of the elevator toward the front doors of the hospital.

Across the street, through an alley, and they came up on the riverfront. She took him to an Indian restaurant for curries.

While they waited for their food he commented, “You said I have a place to go. I do not. I have some limitations and some special equipment is needed for me right now. I could not get down to your bed or sofas. I must have a special shower chair and toilet seat, an adjustable bed.”

“I hadn’t thought of that. If you take a flat you could still spend most of your time in mine. A toilet seat is a small thing. I have music and a TV. You would not feel so institutionalized.”

“I like your flat. It’s very, um…”

“Yes…”

He met her eyes and held them while their food was placed on the table. “Why take the trouble with me? You could toss my things in the bag and bring it down here…out of your way.”

“They are at home there. I sent your things to the laundry and hung them in my closet next to my clothes. Our underclothes share the same drawer,” she smiled a little. “That’s very intimate, don’t you think?”

“Very. Do you have someone in your life who would object to that drawer?”
 

“No. I am alone by choice."

His fingers wouldn’t close properly around his knife. She watched his difficulty for a moment and took the knife from him. “Here, you must eat like an American with the fork. Hold it so… you are not ambidextrous…right-handed and the left is useless. You should practice writing with your left hand. It will help you. I will help you.” She took the fork from him and fed him, watching his lips close over the tines, his teeth. She looked up and met his gaze.

There was something very sensuous about her feeding him forkfuls of rice and chicken. He felt at her mercy and he liked that feeling.

She offered some explanation. “I come home and I find a man is living in my flat. I go through his bag, his clothes, trying to find out who he is. These are the things I found out: he smokes handrollers, he smells fantastic, he has a beard, and his hair is chestnut brown. He is approximately six feet tall and weighs around 190 pounds. He likes expensive things, likes them made especially for him. I do not know how old he is but from the style of clothing probably close to 40. I was curious to know what you looked like.”

He smiled, “Almost right on all accounts. I will admit I did the same thing with you when I would lie in the bed at night. I knew you were left-handed and very warm. Everything in your flat begs to be touched and I’m afraid I did.”

“And yet you never asked about me, never asked Cramer as I did. I didn’t know what to do. I said the flat was available for a month and I was back in town. I didn’t want to be awakened in the middle of the night by a flat mate I didn’t know. I’m glad I did because I think you would not have told me anything about yourself.”

“Don’t you think it is better to make discoveries by yourself without anyone else’s opinion spread over the knowledge you have? You will tell me what you want me to know and that is enough. The rest I will form my own opinion about. Why do you come into my room at night? Why don’t you wake me?”

“I can’t sleep so I come down to see if you can’t sleep…but you do. I share it with you. I want to see how you sleep, how you curl your fingers, what kind of sleep sounds you make…like do you snore?”

He tilted his head a little…amazing.

“You look very young and innocent when you sleep.” She paid for the dinner and pushed him along the Thames for awhile, stopping now and again and sharing a cigarette. He felt high. He hadn’t smoked in weeks.

“I thought I might quit.”

“I’m sorry. You should have said no thank you. You smoked in my flat I found the remains in the ashtray. It’s a non-smoking building, not allowed because it’s connected to the hospital and owned by the same people. That’s why I burn incense…joss sticks and scented candles. I open my window and lean out sometimes. I hate it when people are looking out for my best interests, for my health and well being, making decisions for me and telling me what I can’t do.”

“Why do you live there then?”

“I was a patient and bought a flat because I didn’t think I would ever walk out of there by myself.”

“What happened to you?”

“Plane crashed that was taking me to Italy on holiday. It was a small private plane. I broke both legs and had a crushed pelvis. That was five years ago.”

“Were you working for Cramer then?”

“No, with another division. I was going to be dropped when he took me on. He was in Hong Kong.”

“Were you in Hong Kong as well?”

“I was for awhile. That’s the accent. You must have lived there or in China.”

“I am half Chinese.”

“I’m all kinds of mixes. How interesting...we may have crossed paths…”

“We did not cross paths. I would remember.”

“I’d better get you back before you’re reported missing.”

“Thank you…for thinking of me.”

“You were thinking of me. Our thoughts met.” She turned him around and pushed him toward the street.

 

Part 3

They insisted on taking him around to see the flat before he signed off on it. One floor down from Mandi’s and on the back side of the building. A view of a hospital wing and if one looked down, which he could not from his chair, part of the car park was visible. But it held the amenities he required and so he signed the papers and was given a key. They left him there for awhile. Someone would be bringing in a hospital bed for him to use, a toilet seat, and shower seat. Seats. He wanted to stand.

A plaid sofa in shades of orange a matching chair. A tiny kitchen area designed for a disabled person. Disabled…he wanted to scream why be left alive if this is what you are left with, but there was Lyssa. He had to get through this for her. He’d had one session in therapy and it did not go well for him. His right hand and wrist was weakened from injury and he couldn’t support himself on the walker. He was angry and frustrated and turned inward.

Cramer came by with a bag of clothes David had asked for, soft stretchy knit things, a pair of trainers. He was no longer confined to a hospital bed, was in his own place now and couldn’t keep going around in his pajama pants and tee shirts. The shoes were required for therapy…hopefully.

Cramer visited regularly. Deep down he felt guilty about Brian Brown. He should have picked up on him, should have known something was wrong, but he didn’t. He let Brian run his own show. Aside from his guilt, he had a growing affection for Blaine. It wasn’t sexual. Cramer was straight as they come but he admired David’s determination, considering what he’d lost in his life.

For his part, David was dependant on Cramer for things he needed. He was also good company, someone he could talk with. David looked up from the three ring binder he was going through. “I can order groceries or cooked food, either one. Someone will come in daily to clean like a hotel. I put my laundry in a bag.” He looked up with a grin. “Marked laundry, and it will be taken care of for me. For all this I pay a reasonable monthly service fee.”

“Honestly, Blaine, it doesn’t look like home but I guess it will do for awhile. Short ride to the elevators. You can, uh, get along here without help?”

“Yes, it’s not so bad for what it is, a step away from a hospital room. I’ve called my solicitor and found out the house in Coventry that I inherited has not been sold. I thought it might have gone after my death was reported. Whenever I am able I shall go and have a look, find out if the roof still holds. I’ve not been back there since I finished school. Probably fallen to ruin by now.”

“Would you like me to ride down and have a look-see, take some pictures? Why don’t you have a laptop?”

“I left my laptop at the house along with other things I should have taken. That’s something I will have to do myself. I had no idea what was going to happen when I left. I only knew I could not live there without Charlie. If you bring me a laptop I will reimburse you for the cost. Also I need a new phone. I’ve been using the hospital’s phone. Mine was destroyed in the elevator.”

“Hell, make me a list, Blaine. I’ll pick up whatever you need.”

“You are very kind, thank you.” 

“I’ve come to collect you and bring you upstairs.”

“You haven’t said how nice my flat is.”

“Because it isn’t. It has no heart, no soul.”

“It is not mine. I only lease it.”

“I’ll be leaving again in a week. Come up whenever you want.” She wheeled him to the elevator and up to her flat.

“There is heart and soul here,” he remarked.

She removed the scarf around her neck and tossed it in his lap. “I’ve opened a bottle of wine. Would you like a glass?”

“Yes.” He picked up the scarf and smelled it, draped it around his neck, liking the feel of it.

“You’re still on meds. It may make you a little high.”

“I think I’d like to be high or slightly drunk.” He took the glass from her hand, touching her fingers.

“I’m going to get you slightly drunk. I poured myself into this flat. I had no other vessel and I have a need to express myself.”

“You don’t have a lover.” It was a statement not a question.

“No. I had one before my accident. I was on my way to meet him. He helped me for awhile until it became obvious I would never be able to ski again and he didn’t like the scars, kept suggesting I talk with a plastic surgeon. It bothered him that I wasn’t perfect. It bothered me that I had to be.” She lit a row of candles on the coffee table, replaced incense in the burners and lit joss sticks. The room became heady with scent.

“This reminds me of Hong Kong.”

“You lived there. Describe where you lived…how you lived.”

David took a drink from his glass and closed his eyes. Easier to see with them closed. He told her of his house there, his pool, his fish, the way it smelled and sounded. “Owned many businesses and each day I would go out and visit some of them.”

“You were alone?”

“Yes, alone. Company when I desired it.”

“I understand.” She refilled his glass. She sat on the floor in front of his chair and sipped her wine. Taking one of his feet in her hand, she asked, “You have feeling in your feet?”

“Yes.”

“It’s frustrating, I know, not being able to make them do what you want them to. Why can’t you stand up and walk? All the parts are there but they don’t obey you?” She ran a finger down the bottom of his foot and he jerked. “Your reflexes are good. Is it nerve damage?”

“Some…” She’d moved her hands up to his thighs and rested them on his knees.

“But you can feel.” Her hand slid up his thigh.

“Yes,” he whispered.

“Drink.” She filled his glass again.

She wheeled him through the beaded curtain, setting off the tiny bells. “Let me,” she said. Putting her arms underneath his armpits, she moved him to the bed and undressed him except for the silk scarf. She draped it across him and slowly pulled it over his skin. Tiny ripples of pleasure, heat where she touched him. She kissed his scarred back, ran her fingertips over his muscles and down across his hips. She turned him over and kissed him, lingering in his mouth before moving down over his nipples, his stomach, and his manhood. She mounted him and moved for him, holding his shaft with her muscles. He arched and cried out as she exploded him.

She curled against him. “I have no headboard or footboard because there is no beginning or end, no bottom or top, nothing…everything…anything you desire.” His arms closed around her and held her tightly.

He went to therapy daily and began carrying a rubber ball in his right hand, squeezing and releasing it, building up strength. He made use of the gym, building up his upper body strength. He was able to stand on the treadmill, supporting himself with his arms. His legs made walking motions at last but would not hold his weight.

Mandi went on assignment and left him a key to her flat. It wasn’t the same now that he knew her. When she was there the deep magenta walls vibrated, the air was different. Now it was a brightly colored, slightly exotic room but still it welcomed him. He wheeled himself  through the beaded curtain and looked at the bed. He’d never met anyone quite like her before. She’d become like a drug to his senses and he was addicted. He smiled, thinking of the drawer their underwear shared.

His solicitor paid him a visit in his new flat along with another man he did not know. He turned out to be Charlie’s solicitor and due to his injuries they came to him instead of setting up a meeting away from the complex. Charlie had left him everything in her will with a stipulation that a certain amount of money was to be invested for Lyssa as a trust fund.

David looked down, ran a hand over his eyes and looked away, biting his lip. He knew where this money had come from. It was her dowry given by Ali, and she’d never touched it except to buy a car. He became emotional and the two solicitors felt uncomfortable. He wheeled himself away into the kitchen and wet a towel for his face. When he came back to them he was under control and brought up the house in Coventry. Cramer had brought him pictures which he now displayed on his computer.

“I want to make it habitable for myself and my daughter. She’s four, nearly five now. When I can walk again I want it to be ready for us. I know nothing about contractors here. Please, if you can help me.”

“You want it updated?” his solicitor asked.

“Updated, cleaned, painted, whatever needs doing, central heating installed, wiring. It is an old house and has been left empty and unattended.”

“I’ll…see what I can do.” He sounded unsure.

David thought of Martha Langston. She might be able to oversee the project.  “I know someone for you to contact. The thing I want is to make the funds available for refurbishing the house.”

Martha brought Lyssa to see him in his new place. She was encouraged about his progress although he made light of it. He showed her the pictures of the house and told her of his plans.

“I’m glad…glad you are looking forward. I’d like to ride out and see the place. Why don’t you come with us, Lyssa and me?” She raised her chin and looked at him.

‘It’s the chair. How would you manage…I can’t…”

“David Blaine, I’ll clear out the boot for your chair.”

He smiled slowly, “You’d do that for me?”

Part 4

Martha Langston slowly pulled into the drive, avoiding the downed limbs from a recent storm and stopped her Rover. “Blaine, why did you never tell me about this place?”

“I wasn’t sure it still existed and I was certain it would have sold after the, um, Hong Kong explosion.” He dropped his voice.

“This is an historic property. Did you know that?” She opened her door.

“Historic for me. It’s the house where I was born.”

Martha opened the back door and lifted Lyssa from her seat, “Don’t run off now and get lost.”

Blaine sat like a child and waited for her to bring his chair from the boot. It bothered him greatly.

“It’s going to be hard to push me over this gravel.”

“Well then, you’ll have to help,” she said, not looking at him but enthralled with the old house covered in ivy and roses, the upstairs windows nearly covered in vines. The gardener in her wanted a set of clippers in her hands. “Oh, look at that! Clematis clear to the roof! That appears to be Old Blush. Oh, it’s lovely, lovely!”

It looked like a lot of work to Blaine. “Just leave me here and have a look.” The lines of the old house were visible beneath its green, leafy blanket. He remembered his mother working there with the roses. She would never have let them get so out of hand. And there the trellis where the ivy had begun so many years ago. His father had made that trellis. Oh, he wished he could get up and walk about the place.

Martha came back with an old iron plaque in her hand. “Gravesend. I knew it! This proves it. I found this tacked to an old garden shed.” She spoke excitedly.

“It fell off the front of the house. My father tacked it up meaning to make a proper frame for it but he died before he could get to it.”

“This belonged to Sir Thomas Graves at one time. His father built it. Sir Thomas Graves attended Elizabeth I. I remember reading about this place a long time ago, only a brief description and a pencil sketch.  I suppose over time it’s exact location was lost, property divided and sold. How much property do you own with the house?”

“Three hectares. There was a Graves…I’m trying to remember. I think there are portraits in the house. You understand I was only a boy, very young when my father died. Within a month we were on our way to China. I was a young man the next time I saw the house, down from Cambridge with my friend for a fortnight.” Ali had come down with him. Later others followed but it had been Ali who crawled in a cellar window and unlocked the front door. He smiled now remembering that. He’d brushed the spider webs from his thick, curly hair…Ali. He looked away.

“What is it, Blaine?”

“Memories…Ali.”

“But they’re good memories, aren’t they, the kind you like to trot out and relive now and again. Don’t be sad. Be glad you have them.”

“Dad-dee, I found babies!” Lyssa came running around the house.

“Babies?”

“Baby kitties and baby birds.”

“Oh, that’s not a good combination!” Martha raised a brow and pushed David as far as she could to the gate opening to the back yard.

“It’s okay. Go and see her babies,” he smiled while he ached inside.

He leaned his head back in the chair and looked up through the leaves and branches of an oak tree, spots of blue for sky. Look for the spots of blue, he told himself. He wanted to go inside the house but there were the steps, six of them. He rolled himself over to the front, positioned the chair, and half fell out of it onto the steps. He pulled himself up the steps to the front door and pushed the key in the lock. He had to push on the door with his shoulders to get it open. He disturbed something in the house. A bird flew down at him and then back up toward the stairwell. It was dark and smelled of mold and dust.

“Oh, bloody hell! What are you trying to do? Why didn’t you call me?” Martha pulled his chair up the stairs and pushed the door the rest of the way open.

“I just wanted to…” He looked up at her with his eyes full of tears.

“Sometimes I don’t know what to do with you!” She set the brake on his chair and helped him into it. “This is not a lifetime thing, Blaine. At least that’s what your doctors say. Even if it is, if the worst comes and you never stand alone again, don’t wallow in it. Make the best of it. Have a damn ramp built right to the threshold. Get yourself kitted out with a state of the art chair. Don’t ever crawl across the floor in tears again. I don’t think I could stand that.”

He held onto her arms and rested his head on her shoulder. “I don’t think I can either. Sometimes I wish…”

“Don’t…don’t say it! You were saved for a reason and maybe that reason is out in the garden right now.” Her hand hovered over his head and gently touched down. “I know you’ve lost. You lost your wife, Charlie, your love, Ali, your home in Hong Kong and your life there, and now you’re leaving behind another house. Maybe this is where it begins anew.”

“This is where I began.”

“You’ve come full circle, Blaine. You’ve come home.”

He raised his head up. “I thought myself Chinese, and I was quite happy there and once again ripped away and sent to England. I’m tired of being ripped away, tired of living like a leaf upon the wind. I want to be the wind. I want to live in peace. I’ve nothing else to lose except Lyssa and I will not lose her, not in this life.”

“Daddy?” Lyssa stood in the doorway looking into the gloom.

“Here, darling, here.” He took her onto his lap and began to roll around in the room. “I lived here. When I was a little boy the same age as you, I was here in this house. We’ll  get it all cleaned up, fixed up and you and I will live here.”

“But, Daddy, does Mommy know where it is?”

“No, she was never here.”

“How will she find us?”

He looked up at Martha Langston, who shrugged her shoulders and walked off.

Martha pulled out a notebook from her bag and began walking around making notes. She went upstairs to the bedrooms, out back to the kitchen and utility rooms, down in the cobwebby cellar. She needed something to do, some busy work. How had she gotten so involved with Blaine and now his daughter Lyssa? She rubbed her temples and looked down at the black and white tiled kitchen, last updated possibly when Queen Victoria was on the throne. Much work to do. How will he manage with that little girl here on his own? He won’t. He’ll need a housekeeper, somebody to help, a man of work perhaps. And if he doesn’t walk again, he will need someone to care for him.

Martha went out to the car to get the picnic basket she’d packed. A thermos of tea, chicken sandwiches, apple tarts.  She set it all out in the kitchen after wiping off a marble counter top. Ah. it was too much. She leaned against the old sink, digging in a pocket for her handkerchief.

“Why are you crying?” He’d moved silently in through the butler’s pantry.

“I’m not." She blew her nose and sniffed, “Old women don’t cry.”

“What do they call it?”

“What?"

“Crying?”

“It’s all your fault, all of it. I was perfectly happy planning and planting my gardens. Roaming over the isle in peace. I didn’t have to worry about a man nearly young enough to be my son. I suppose you could be if I were a wanton young woman, which I was not.  I didn’t know you and didn’t’ need you or your child. Not a day goes by now without you in it on some level. How did you get there?”

He looked up at her and then down in his lap at his hands., “You put me there at Hawthorn House. If you do not want me in your life I will take myself and my child out of it. I don’t want to cause you problems or stress. You have gone above and beyond for me.”

“You have caused me problems, stress beyond endurance, but if you think for a moment I will let you take that child out of my life now or take yourself out…I love you both, Blaine. So there it is and, like you with your infirmity, I’ll just have to make the best of it. Where is Lyssa? The tea is going cold.”

He caught her hand and kissed the back of it. “If you don’t mind a son…”

“God knows you need a mother!”  She bent and hugged him, sniffed and went to find Lyssa.

Lyssa was standing in the drive watching the man walk up from the lane. He had a black bag on his back and a baseball cap pulled down over his face so she couldn’t see who it was until he came up near the vehicle. He stopped and looked at her.

Lyssa chewed on her fingers a moment then turned and ran into the house. “Dad-dee, Daddy…the umbrella man is here!”

Martha stood aside, letting her though the door. There was a man standing in the drive dressed in jeans and a black jersey, a cap covering his head. He was clean shaven and seemed surprised to see her.

“Who  are you?” There was something vaguely familiar about the man.

“Ali Kazam.” He spoke softly, his dark eyes never wavering.

 

Part 5

David cried, tears streamed down his cheeks and he was a blur to Ali, who stood against the marble counter drinking lukewarm tea. It had been as much of a shock to Ali finding Blaine in a wheelchair as it was for Blaine to see him walk in the door.

Martha took Lyssa into the dining room, making a big deal out of eating off the long, dusty table. It gave the men a little privacy for they had much to talk about.

“It was Mark Twain who said it,” Ali smiled and reached out brushing Blaine’s cheeks. “It’s not good, Blaine. If I had not forgotten my phone and gone back inside for it then the reports would have been true. In fact it was my personal secretary and my oldest son…yes. I was immediately taken away by other transportation, taken from the country and asked where I wanted to go. I went to France and from there I made my own escape. No matter how many people you have for protection if someone is bent on your death then there is nowhere to go. I have a new passport. I am Alis Kahid.

“I remembered this house and I thought if no one was living here I would break in and become a squatter,” he smiled slightly.

“It may have been orchestrated from here, from London. I know who killed Charlie and I believe he had something to do with your death, if we may speak of it as such. It was Brownie. He’s dead now.”

“Did you kill him?”

“I believe I did. We were in an elevator fighting, up and down, and finally down with a crash. His neck was broken and myself…my back was broken when the elevator crashed.”

“You will walk again.”

“I don’t know. I’m trying.”

“It is good then that Brownie is dead, a shame he cannot die twice.”

“He had my portrait in his office. Can you believe that he took it from my house in Hong Kong? Chief Inspector Aziz says I can have it when the investigation is over.”

“Where are you living now?”

“I have a flat. There’s a building connected to the hospital and until I can walk and care for myself and Lyssa I will stay there. The therapy that I am receiving is in the hospital so…it is wheelchair friendly.”

“I am so sorry to see you like this, Blaine.” Ali caressed his cheek. “Who is helping you…Ms. Langston?”

“Yes, she’s taken Lyssa for the time being. Cramer has been…been a good friend through this mess.” He did not mention Mandi. It was in his mind but did not form into her name. For now she was his and his alone because no one knew about her but him.

“What will you do with the other house in Islington?”

“I don’t know yet. There are some things I want from it but it’s Charlie, you know?”

“I understand. Strange that you would come back here.”

“There was no other place and I thought, why not. I am not the same person who lived here. I’m going to do it up and live here with Lyssa. And you, Ali, where are you going?”

“Well, I had hoped to stay here for awhile. I am trying to get my wife and children out of UAE, get them to Switzerland, somewhere safe. I have friends. It has come to this. I do not trust my family members and I am sick to death of it, all the intrigue, secrets and lies. It may have been Brownie or not. There is no way to tell. A car arrives for me, a driver I know. I send my son with my secretary to the car and step back inside for my phone…oblivion.”

“I am sorry for your loss, Ali. Are you still officially dead?”

“Yes,” he grinned,”we could have been dead together.”

“Come back to London with me. I will give you the keys to my car. You can stay here if you wish but it is not a working house. Stay in Islington, if you would like.”

Martha leaned in the doorway. “If I might make a suggestion, Ali. There is the possibility of your being recognized in Islington. You were there at Charlie’s funeral. If you truly need a place to hide out,” she grinned recklessly, “I have plenty of room. You can bunk with Lyssa and me.”

Ali looked back to Blaine. “Is this a good idea?”

“Are you sure, Martha? More involvement…?” David raised a brow.

“In for a penny in for a pound.”

“I am most grateful  to you, Ms. Langston.”

“She may make you work. She has gardens,” David  teased him.

“I..I can garden. I need something to do. I’m getting fat with idleness.” Ali shrugged his shoulders,

David gave him a look up and down and shook his head slightly. To see him alive here in this house filled him to the brim.

Martha and Lyssa went up to David’s flat along with Ali. Once he was in and settled with a cup of tea and hugs and kisses finished, she took Lyssa home with her.

“Your daughter is lovely, Blaine.”

“She is, isn’t she. It’s hard for me to be parted from her like this but the best care I can get is right here and it is too far for Martha to drive. She is trying to work with my daughter in tow.”

“Maybe I can help with that if you will allow. I, too, have daughters.”

“How many children do you have?”

“There were six…now five.”

“It’s not fair is it…not fair?”

Ali got up and walked around the tiny flat. This is where you sleep…a very small bed.”

David glanced over. “It goes up and down so I can get into it.”

“Up and down. How are you from the waist down?”

“Alive. I just can’t move. There was some nerve damage. I had surgery twice to make repairs. It is thought by those who think of such things that the nerve will regenerate. Meanwhile I am pulled and pushed and made to do horrible things to strengthen my limp legs.”

“You poor child. I would stay with you but…”

“I have a friend and a key to her flat. You will like her, I think.”

“Me?”

“She is not in town right now, gone for a few weeks. If you want to stay with me we can go up to her flat.”

Ali pushed his chair through Mandi’s door, “Oh, oh, yes…yes!” He looked at David and smiled. “Are you sure she would not mind my being here?”

“I will tell her about you. She knows about me. You will like her.”

The next morning Ali went for David’s car and brought it around to the complex. He took him for a drive and they ended up at Cambridge, reliving old times. David had to be back at 2:00 for his session and Ali went with him. It was not good for Ali to see David suffer through his paces and he vowed not to go again.

“I will do someone an injury!” He declared, pushing David back into his flat. “What can I do for you?”

“Just get me into the bed. I’m not…I need to rest. It always finishes me.”

Ali put him to bed, bringing him a jug of water and tenderly covering him. “I will always love you, Blaine.” He kissed him and left him to sleep. Now he had to find his way using David’s map out to Martha’s house.

Lyssa was through with her dinner. She’d had her bath in the big old-fashioned tub. Martha had to put a little low footstool by the tub for her to climb out. Another chapter of Alice in Wonderland and she was tucked in the bed for the night. Martha sat with her until she was asleep. Poor motherless child. Her heart went out to her. She saw headlights stop at her drive and went downstairs, supposing it was the Prince. She smiled a little at that thought and went to the front door and opened it.

Ali took his backpack out of the back seat and walked up to the door. It reminded him of his college days. He and Blaine were always going to someone’s country house or to the Med on his yacht. Those days were over now. Still he felt a little awkward.

“I see you found your way to this little outpost?”

“I had a good map. How are you, Ms. Langston?”

“Very well. Come in. Not often I have royalty to stay,” she smiled.

“Ah, well, it is not the same, is it?”

“Isn’t it? Have you had dinner?”

“No, I drove straight through, trying to get here before dark. One gets lost in the dark.”

“Let’s get something straight right away. My name is Martha and I love David Blaine, too. I’m an old spinster, I guess that’s what they still call them, old maid, whatever. I never married. If I were to choose a son, it would be David. I know all about you or as much as he would tell. I know he loves you and that’s enough for me.”

“Thank you. I think you and I will get on splendidly,” Ali smiled, his eyes twinkling.

“Kitchen is this way. We don’t stand on fancies here…mind the kitten.”

Ali stepped past the gray and white stripped kitty and into her rambling, long narrow kitchen. Something smelled good and something felt good inside of him. He liked this woman.
 

 

Part 6

David was having breakfast of cereal and fruit. Cramer was sitting across the table from him nursing a cup of coffee.

“You’re doing all right here, then?”

“Yes, as well as I can.” He wanted to tell Cramer about Ali but something held him back. “Went to the house in Coventry over the weekend. Needs a lot of work. Martha Langston is going to see to it for me.”

“She’s been a star through this whole thing.”

“Indeed she has, especially with Lyssa.”

“It’s a nice old house, Blaine. Not sure I’d want to live that far out, though. I’m London, you know.”

“Yes, I know.”

“Tommy Catchpole lost his job.”

David looked up.

“He was Lord Sheffield’s aide…Brian’s contact, his buddy, sometime…lover.”

“Ah, I wonder if he is the one I spoke with on the phone?”

“Most likely he was. He and Brian…you know.”

“I don’t think I ever met him.”

“He knew you.”

“How?” David pushed his bowl away and picked up his cup.

“Ah, school I think. He spilled out a lot of shite, Blaine. Trying to save his own arse.”

“What kind of shite?”

“I got a transcript. Says you and him, um…well.”

David shook his head. “I don’t remember him at all. I thought there was some kind of rule about homosexuals in government service.”

“There is, well, in certain areas. Not in Lord Sheffield’s office…obviously.”

“Perhaps he didn’t know. Did you know about Brownie?”

“No, he lied.”

“Ah!”

“You know I think a lot of you, Blaine. I don’t care what the fuck you do, you know.”

David smiled a little. “It makes you uncomfortable.”

“Yeah, I guess it does…a little,” he grinned. “Well, I should go, get on to the office. Anything I can bring ya?”

“No, I’m pretty well set  up for now, thank you.”

“Sure.” Cramer nodded his head and took his cup to the sink and rinsed it out.

“Cramer, do I need to worry about Catchpole?”

“ I don’t know. I just don’t know, Blaine. I’ll email you  a picture of him so…yeah, I’ll do that.”

David stared at the door after he left. Tommy Catchpole. He shook his head…nothing.

Later that morning he got a call from Martha Langston. She’d been in contact with a restoration specialist who worked on National Trust properties and would he like for this person to have a go at his house?

“I’m not so much interested in restoration as in making it a livable property. I want modern wiring, an updated kitchen and plumbing. I don’t want to live in a museum, Martha.”

“At least on the outside, David, you’ll want to keep the historic shell.”

“Will I?” he smiled. “I think you understand what I want. I leave it to you.”

“Are you sure about that? You’ve seen my house.”

“I could live in your house. How is Ali taking to the country?”

“I’ve got the Prince digging lettuces this morning.”

David laughed at the visual. “Have him call me when he gets a chance.”

“Tommy Catchpole. Does that ring a bell with you?”

Ali hedged around for a bit. “Yes, I knew him, Blaine.”

“He says he knows me.”

“He does not know you. Perhaps like Brownie he wanted to know you.”

“How do you know him?”

“Blaine, darling, do you remember what a little virgin you were?”

“Ah!”

“What about him? Why are you asking?”

“Cramer says he lost his job. He was a friend of Brownie’s from Lord Sheffield’s office. I asked him if I should worry about him and he said he didn’t know. That is a little unnerving right now.”

“Are you afraid to be alone?”

“If someone came at me right now they would have me. I don’t know what to do. I wish he hadn’t told me about Tommy.”

Ali leaned against the wall. “Will this never be over?” he sighed. “I am coming to be with you until we get this sorted out. Find a place where you feel safe and let me know where it is.”

“Mandi’s flat.”

“Of course.”

But he didn’t go directly to Mandi’s flat. He had a session scheduled with a therapist for his right hand. After the session his hand was bothering him and he didn’t feel he could wheel himself all the way back to his flat. The therapist returned with an orderly to push him.

Mandi lugged her bag through the door and turned on a lamp. She needed a cup of tea and a rest. A twelve hour flight on top of the day she’d had yesterday.

A cup in hand she sat on her sofa and kicked off her shoes. Her eye went to the red cigarette lighter on the coffee table. Blaine had been there and that brought a smile to her face. She could use a bit of him later. She used the lighter to light a candle. 

“I just have this gut feeling. That’s all I can say,” Cramer was explaining to Aziz.

Aziz checked his watch. “Do you know his schedule?”

“I know he goes to therapy in the afternoon for his back. Uh, hand, he has therapy for it three times a week.”

“Times?”

“Sorry, don’t know.”  Cramer led the way from the elevator to Blaine’s flat.

They waited. Aziz tried the door it was locked. 

Ali left the elevator and went to Mandi’s door and knocked.

“David?” She came from her bedroom and opened the door. “Who are you?”

“My name is Ali.” His eyes traveled quickly over her purple silk wrap. “I am a friend of Blaine's. Is he here?”

“No. I thought you might be him.”

“He hasn’t been here?”

“Not since I’ve been home. Come in.” She closed the door behind him and moved close. “I was hoping he would come.”

“He said he would be here. He needed a safe place. You are Mandi?”

“Yes, did he tell you?”

“He told me. I’m afraid he may be in trouble.”

“Have you checked his flat?”

“No, I came directly here.”

Mandi slipped her feet in orange slippers and grabbed a key ring. “Let’s go down and have a look.” 

“We could check with the hospital. They will tell us whether he’s in therapy or not.” Cramer and Aziz  moved to the elevator.

As their doors closed another set opened. Mandi’s heels clip clopped on the tiled floor as she half ran down the hall to David’s door.

Ali stepped in and after a quick look he met her eyes and shook his head.  “The hospital?” She  lifted a shoulder. “Why is he in trouble?” She half ran to keep up with Ali.

“Somebody named Tommy Catchpole has been let go from his job. He worked for Lord Sheffield and I think worked with Brian Brown. He has been talking about Blaine and Mr. Cramer said something to Blaine that alarmed him.”

“But I know these people. I work for Cramer.”

“Do you know Tommy?”

“Yeah, he’s a queen. He was one of Sheffield’s puppies.”

Ali punched the elevator button. “We need to find him…Blaine.”

“I’m all for that.” She looked sideways at Ali and smiled a little. His eyes flashed over her and let her into the elevator first.

“That is all very well, madam.” Aziz flashed his Scotland Yard ID. “I do not have time to run all over this hospital to find these offices you speak of. Kindly pick up the phone and call.”

Cramer paced hands on hips. Aziz waited.

“I know all the shortcuts. I used to be a patient here.” Mandi led Ali down a hall and through a length of offices, totally unaware of the attention her thin purple robe and orange slippers were picking up. “We go across the arch. I guess it was a ‘bridge of sighs’ thought.” The arch was glassed in on both sides and as they sprinted across Ali glanced down and slowed.

“Mandi, that’s him! I swear to you!”

Mandi ran to his side and looked down. “That’s Catchpole’s white head. He bleaches his hair…oh, God! He’s headed for the River.”

“Shortcut?” Ali grabbed her hand.

“This way!”

The nurse looked up darkly at Aziz. “He doesn’t have therapy for his back until 2:00. He appeared for his hand therapy on time, completed it.”

“How long ago was this?”

“11:30. He left the office with an orderly.”

“Orderly? Where did they go?”

“Now, Sir, I cannot tell you that.”

“I want a description and a name of the orderly…STAT! A man’s life may be in danger here.”

Aziz radioed a description of the orderly to his men downstairs and he and Cramer headed for the therapy rooms. 

Everything was passing through Blaine’s mind. His mouth was taped shut and his arms taped to the arms of his wheelchair. He was being wheeled by a madman across the street . He recognized the alley Mandi had taken him through. He began moaning behind the tape, hoping somebody would notice. How could people walk past a man taped to a wheelchair with his mouth taped shut and not wonder, not comment? He was sure he’d never seen the man, Tommy Catchpole, before. He leaned his head back and looked up at the sky but a rough bump brought it back down. He’d crossed the sidewalk and now was rolling on grass. He knew where he was headed now.

“Elevator is too slow. Let’s take the stairs. You know people will be getting off every floor.” Mandi led Ali down a narrow stairwell.

Aziz and Cramer both beat a tattoo on the elevator hand rests, watching the floors pass by. They were on the freight elevator, hoping to avoid it stopping.

“Through here!” Mandi led the way down a few more steps and out onto a platform. She still held Ali’s hand, leading him down another flight of steps then they were in the car park. “You go ahead toward the river. It’s these damn shoes! I didn’t know I was going to run a marathon.”

Ali left her on the street and ran down the alley. Cramer and Aziz exited from the building, Aziz running after his men. Cramer slowed. “Mandi?”

“Oh, hi, Mr. Cramer. I was just, um…” She pulled the wrap a little closer around her as she stepped across the sidewalk.

“What are you?” but he didn’t wait for an answer. He saw Aziz ahead and ran after him.

Catchpole hadn’t said a word to Blaine until he reached the boat ramp. “Put your head down now so I can get you under this gate. Oh, do put on a show, will ya.” He pushed David’s head down and slid the wheelchair under the ramp. “I wonder if we should get a running start or just let you go? I want to make sure of this now, no fuck ups.” He pushed the wheelchair down the ramp to check the depth of the water and  then turned and pulled him back up the ramp and gave it a push. It went careening down the ramp and into the water just as a wave hit the ramp and pulled the chair out on its side.

“Perfect!” He clapped his hands and then his head exploded.

Ali hit him with such force he dislocated his shoulder and broke his wrist. He didn’t stop until he reached the wheelchair and pulled David’s head above water. Cramer and Aziz ran down the ramp, Aziz stopping at Catchpole and Cramer continuing on down into the water to help Ali.

Mandi waited at the top of the ramp, holding her orange slippers. “Be careful with them!” She called down to Cramer.

Soon an ambulance arrived and police vehicles cordoned off the area.

Mandi swung her shoes at her side while Blaine was brought up on a stretcher. Ali walked, half supported by Cramer. She saw how it was going to go and walked over to an ambulance and slipped in. “Next of kin,” she said and made room for Ali. Blaine was slid in and she moved again, pressing herself against a wall of equipment. The tape came off Blaine’s mouth, followed by a string of obscenities.

“You should shave,” Ali told him.

Cramer staggered against the police van and waited for Aziz. “Yeah?”

“Catchpole’s alive. Who is that man, the one who punched out his lights?”

“Oh,” Cramer bit his lip, “probably just a passerby.” How could he explain he was the Prince of Arabia who died about a month ago?

 

Epilogue:

“Let me.” Mandi unbuttoned Ali’s shirt and pulled it carefully over his shoulder brace and arm splint. She unbuttoned his jeans and pulled them down over his hips. “Sit!” she ordered and he did on the side of her bed. She knelt down and removed his shoes and socks and slipped his jeans over his feet. “Careful now!” She helped him lay down.

“Now you.” She slipped her arms under Blaine’s and lifted him onto the bed. “Double trouble, double pleasure.” She kissed one and then the other.

 

ON TO THE WIND

BACK TO THE FORTUNATE ONE

BACK TO IN A DESERT PLACE

BACK TO NO WAVE WITHOUT WIND

BACK TO A THOUSAND NEW PATHS

BACK TO THE GOLDEN ORB

BACK TO LIBRISCROWE