Shadows of a Winter Sun

By John Henry Ellen

Shadows of a Winter Sun is set in a remote timber town in the highlands of Tasmania, Australia, in the nineteen forties and fifties.
The story revolves around the character of Caleb Ryan who chooses to become a tree feller for its seclusion and escape from the town in which he was born.
Interwoven into his compelling tale are the stories of the people with whom he shares this remote life.
This is a tale with many facets and the twists and turns as the book develops will amaze you. It takes us on a journey through Tasmania, to the Wimmera in Victoria and back again.
Shadows of a Winter Sun is a powerful novel with unforgettable characters. It is a “must read”.

• Language: English
• Publisher: John Henry Ellen
• Release date: Jul 2, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476321196

Book preview

SHADOWS OF A WINTER SUN

by

John Henry Ellen

***

PUBLISHED BY CHARGAN AT SMASHWORDS

This book available in print from

www.chargan.com

Shadows of a Winter Sun

Copyright © 2012 John Henry Ellen

ISBN: 978-1-105-91713-4

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

John Henry Ellen asserted his right under the Copyright Act 1976 to be identified as the author of this work.

This is a work of fiction. Characters, institutions and organisations mentioned in this novel are either the product of the author’s imagination or, if real, used fictitiously without any intent to describe actual conduct.

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

***

Contents

Prologue

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

Twenty

Twenty-one

Twenty-two

Twenty-three

Dedication

About the Author

***

Prologue

Caleb Ryan had not slept that night. He had lain on his bed listening to the wind dance on the windows watching the shadows of the night bow and curtsy on the walls.

He guessed it must be four o’clock in the morning – it was still dark and the moon had taken refuge behind the clouds, but time this morning had no dimension.

He rose from his bed stiffly but silently, opened the bedroom door and like someone negotiating a minefield, he carefully crept down the stairs cursing the creaks that he thought might wake his parents.

Then he was in the outhouse where the previous evening he had made the decision that he was now to complete.

He found the rope behind the barrel where he had left it, thick and strong, perfect for the mission that had tortured his mind all night.

He threw the rope over a roof beam and ensured that the noose that dangled before him was secure and would take him quickly into -. He stopped for a moment and wondered about that. What was he about to enter into? A better world perhaps – well it could not be any worse than this world he was about to depart. Not even the cauldrons of Hell could be more unforgiving and devastating as what he had just endured.

The night was still and cold and only the hornet hum of the wind penetrated the silence.

There was no retreating from this and he closed his eyes in prayer, not asking God to forgive him but to protect his mother and father and to bless the soul of the girl that he had killed.

He should have left a note so that his parents and the world understood the pain and anguish that he felt, but Caleb Ryan was no writer and words did not come easy. But he yearned that his mother and father would understand, forgive and forget.

Caleb stood on a kitchen chair, placed his head in the noose, closed his eyes and knew that his moment of destiny had arrived.

ONE

People who live in Runcie don’t give much thought about whether it is beautiful or not - it’s just a place where they are born, eke out some semblance of existence and then get buried at the cemetery which overlooks the Bass Strait from a hill punctuated by pine trees on well-tended lawns.

They don’t care too much, either, what visitors think. The people of Runcie are insular and don’t take to strangers easily. They tolerate the jibes about Tasmanians being inbred possessing two heads and marrying their kin with an insouciance which mirrors their way of life.

Geoff Ryan had lived in Runcie all his life. He had been to Hobart once or twice but Runcie was where he felt more comfortable and could not wait to return home.

Just before the start of the Second World War, Geoff had opened a corner shop in the northern part of the town where expansion was being planned to accommodate growing families and a burgeoning population.

Although the war had not come to Runcie, some people in Runcie had gone to war, and sadly like the generation before them, had never returned. Instead their names were etched on the War Memorial that sadly and in pristine chalk white stood at the top of Main Street.

Geoff had suffered rheumatic fever as a child and this had affected his heart. He was thus determined not fit to fight wars and was excused from duty, but in truth Geoff had no desire to fight wars and would have been reluctant to join the forces.

It was October 1946 and the shop that morning was bereft of customers. Geoff spread the morning newspaper across the counter and gazed at a photograph of former Nazis on trial at a place called Nuremberg.

Goering is in the picture, looking pensive and at the same time listening intently to the proceedings. Next to him is Ribbentrop who gazes at the ceiling as though there amongst the beams is some form of inspiration or was it defiance, insolence or insouciance?

There are twenty-one former Nazis on trial that grey September morning, each claiming that their only guilt was that they carried out orders.

Geoff shook his head and wondered about man’s inhumanity to man as someone had called it. His attention to the newspaper was diverted when Caleb, his eighteen year old son entered from the outhouse at the back of the shop. Caleb was a huge slab of a man, the seeds of a red beard already appearing on his face, his hair trailing almost to his broad shoulders, his eyes like blue aluminium.

Have you read this? Geoff asked his son, indicating the newspaper.

Caleb placed the cartons that he was carrying on the floor and peered over his father’s shoulder. His gaze immediately settled on the photograph where Ribbentrop was looking at the ceiling.

What will happen to them if they are found guilty? Caleb asked.

They will be executed, said Geoff, simply.

For following orders? asked Caleb.

If that is what they did - but from what we read these were the people who gave the orders, Caleb said Geoff.

Do you believe they should be executed? asked Caleb. Do we know why they did the things that they did?

What we don’t understand, we condemn, said Geoff, But should we execute them…?

His father’s voice diminished into thought; he straightened and gazed through the window where passing silhouettes sashayed along the street.

The War had touched everyone. Geoff had a nephew who died in Changi in Singapore at the hands of the ruthless Japanese - a boy barely older than Caleb is now, executed because he was considered too slow in bowing to his Japanese captors.

The Bible says that we shall not murder. Said Geoff slowly, and in a way we are murdering those who murdered others. I can’t subscribe to that.

But does not the Bible also talk about an eye for an eye? asked Caleb.

Geoff, with visions of his nephew being decapitated by a heavy sword wielded by a brutal Japanese soldier, considered whether he could maintain his pacifism or whether he would relish some form of revenge. He decided that no matter how hard the decision to remain a pacifist in such turbulent times may have been, there was no option but to believe in the sanctity of life, whatever the cost.

Yes it does, replied Geoff, but it was apparent to Caleb that the subject was causing his father some discomfort. Geoff was a pacifist in a violent world and do unto others as you would have them do unto you as the Good Book said, could be interpreted in more than just one way.

Caleb returned to concentrate on Ribbentrop’s face. What was the Nazi searching for on the ceiling? Was it for divine intervention, inspiration or was it an act of defiance or impudence?

Caleb had work to do so he allowed the matter to fade, although in truth he would have loved to have discussed the situation further. His father was a learned man, not learned in the sense that he had been educated at university, but learned in that he understood life and more importantly he understood God’s word.

Caleb accepted that his father was a devout man, imbued with the teachings of the Holy Scripture, and whereas Caleb may have possessed some doubts about the existence of this all powerful, all seeing, all forgiving God that his father worshipped, he would never express such doubts to his father because he knew the wounds they would cause would never heal.

Each Sunday, Geoff, his wife Elizabeth, and Caleb would stroll to the church at the top of Runcie Hill. Sometimes Geoff would read the lesson which he always delivered with fervour and belief, and as he stepped from the lectern, the preacher would always whisper, Well done Geoffrey. May God bless you.

Geoff would strut proudly and upright back to the pew where Elizabeth would clasp his hand and Geoff would recline in God’s approval for another week.

Elizabeth had suffered what everyone who knew her called difficulties when she gave birth to Caleb, and as a result she was unable to give birth to any more children.

Whether this upset either Geoff or Elizabeth was never expressed - it was God’s will and that was the end of the matter. Besides Caleb had grown into a robust, intelligent child, even though being the only child had made him acutely shy. Perhaps it was his height and overall build that caused him to feel awkward in company.

At school he stood head and shoulders above the rest of his class in stature rather than in academia, awkward and self-conscious, avoiding being photographed whenever possible.

He had no friends but whether this caused his parents any concern was never voiced. Caleb knew that his future lay in the store and he had visions of profit and expansion.

He had read in a newspaper of some exciting developments that were occurring in America.

Just before the War someone called Michael Cullen had opened a self-service store in a former garage in Queens, New York with the slogan Pile it High, Sell it Low.

When Cullen died in 1941 he had seventeen of these stores.

People served themselves and took their shopping to the till and from what Caleb could glean from the article, the customers loved the new concept.

When Caleb mentioned this to Geoff, like all fathers welded into a comfortable past, Geoff was not convinced. We are not like America, Geoff had said. Just look at our customers - can you imagine them wanting to serve themselves? They love talking to me, Caleb. They love me waiting on them, slicing their bacon and mixing their lollies. This is what service is all about.

But Caleb knew that what America did today, Australia would do tomorrow - if not tomorrow then certainly the day after. Yes, as far as Caleb was concerned, the corner shop had a limited future and he didn’t want to be left behind. One day he would go to America to see how these shops operated and he would introduce the concept to Australia.

Perhaps by that time his father will have retired, reclining in a rocking chair perched on the veranda of a seaside chalet, watching endless waves inexorably kiss the lips of the shore.

Today they lived over the shop so the shop became their focus all day, every day. Even in the hush soft whispers of the night Caleb could often hear his father in the shop below, rearranging shelves, counting stock and sweeping floors.

This dedication was rubbing off on Caleb, but Caleb had more ambitious and grandiose ideas than his father but he kept these ideas silent for fear his father would ridicule them in their embryonic stage.

It wasn’t that Geoff was a bad businessman. He was a man of the times but that was where his talent faded. He could not see beyond the next day, but he knew what his customers wanted and he knew how to lay out the shop so that the goods that sold well attracted the customer’s attention.

Beyond the store and church Geoff had few interests and even fewer friends. Even amongst those with whom he fraternized at church, it was no more than a perfunctory greeting and he would not see those people for another week unless they came into his shop.

It wasn’t that Geoff was unfriendly either - indeed his manner and demeanour behind the shop counter possessed some semblance of charm, but behind the exterior rested a determined and pious man.

Caleb had inherited his father’s reserve. He was shy, conscious of his height and weight, awkward in step and nervous of other people’s company.

He rarely ventured out in the evening, preferring to listen to the radio or read the latest news. He would also dedicate his time to sweeping and cleaning the shop, stocking the shelves, keeping the books and preparing himself for the day when his father would retire and Caleb could realise these mosaics of dreams.

Elizabeth, it has to be said, was never a healthy woman and had none of the robustness of her son. She was quiet, in keeping with the reserve of the rest of her family, and she only concerned herself with the store on rare occasions.

She spent most of her time sitting in her room above the shop, peering out at the Bass Strait as the steamers came and left the Port of Runcie where they shipped timber, felled in the highlands beyond the town, to unknown destinations.

She loved to crochet and the product of her endeavours was usually given away to the poor and needy in the town, or sometimes given to the Church so that they could sell her work at fairs and fetes to raise money.

She worried about Caleb as all mothers do about their only son. She worried that the store was becoming the fulcrum of his existence, where there was no room for anything else to intrude. Here he was, eighteen years of age, and had yet to go on a date with a girl.

It wasn’t as though Elizabeth expected her son to be married by this time, but she did expect him to be experiencing some of the joys of life beyond the store.

But boys of eighteen hate to be cajoled - they become restless and unnerved by parents proffering advice. It is an intrusion upon their private world, acres of unrest where parents must never tread. If Caleb ever thought about his situation, which he rarely did with any veracity, he always assuaged himself by saying that time is the great dictator - everything will work out in its own good time.

He returned to the back of the shop where he switched on the wireless. Before the War the only commercial wireless station on the coast was owned by the Jehovah’s Witnesses, and when War was declared the Government revoked their licence - the Witnesses being pacifists were perceived as a security risk - and they had to sell the station to another entity.

Geoff had forbidden his family to listen to it anyway and preferred the State owned ABC which he considered to be better quality, less crass and not being run by people whose interpretation of God was misguided to say the least. But they were pacifists and this was the only element of their belief that Geoff had in common with them.

But the War had ceased and Caleb preferred the crass to the class, and as his wireless crackled and spluttered into life, he heard his father call him from inside the shop.

Caleb, the fruit and veg has arrived. Will you help Clem to carry it in, please?

Clem had a smallholding to the north west of the town where he grew precision rows of lettuces, peas, beans and cabbages. In an adjoining paddock he cultivated stone fruit and apples which glistened in the winter sun.

Clem was already in the shop, smiling through a face the colour of gravel, sculptured by the harsh winds that blew off Bass Strait.

Good day, Caleb, how you going? he asked placing a crate on the floor.

I’m fine, Mr Murray Caleb returned, I’ll come and help you unload.

The two men walked from the shop into the warm spring air.

Nice day, Caleb, Clem said.

But Caleb’s gaze had gone beyond Clem and was focussed on the bob-haired brunette girl leaning on the long black bonnet of Clem’s new Ford Pickup. She was wearing a brownish checked pinafore dress which fell just below her knees. Her smile was what some would describe as radiant, her white teeth dancing like ballerinas in the bloom of the winter sun.

Caleb had attended school with Catherine Murray, Clem’s daughter, who was leaning on the vehicle’s bonnet this day, but he had not seen her since he left Runcie school almost three years previously.

It is amazing, he thought, how people - perhaps just girls, can develop in three years and he immediately averted his gaze to the crates on the back of the pick-up.

How are you Caleb? Cathy said, I haven’t seen you for a long while.

Caleb wished that he was somewhere else, out there in the cauldron they call the sea, bobbing around in protective oblivion and far away from Cathy Murray. It was not that he didn’t like her, but he felt ill at ease in the company of someone he had not spoken with for such a long time.

I’m fine, he said at last but without taking his eyes off the crates. He felt his voice almost quaver as he spoke, his throat sandpaper sore.

He lifted three crates from the back tray of the pick-up knowing that Cathy’s eyes were still looking at him. With seemingly little effort he carried the trays into the shop - Caleb was naturally a strong young man.

Clem had returned inside the store and was hunched over the paperwork with Geoff, but through the window he could see the mischievousness in his daughter. It was there in the way that she leant against the pick-up and in her smile, a smile that he had seen many times before and a smile that said I am in control of this and I am enjoying it.

Has Caleb got a girl friend yet? Clem asked

He says he hasn’t got time for girl friends, Geoff replied more embarrassed at his answer than the question.

Not like you and me then Geoff, Clem said, We only had time for girls and not much else.

Speak for yourself, said Geoff.

The two men laughed as they recalled their turbulent youth. Like most people in Runcie, Clem and Geoff had gone to school together, grew up together, discovered the vicissitudes of life together and had remained friends. It was only when Geoff discovered God and Clem didn’t, and this would have been when they were in their mid-twenties, did they cease to see each other as often.

Clem would be in the milk bars and dance halls, conveying what he considered to be his unfailing charm and wit on to young ladies of a similar age, whereas Geoff devoted himself to the church and Bible class where he met Elizabeth Franklin.

But when Geoff opened the store he remembered that Clem had inherited the Murray’s farm and asked Clem whether he would be interested in supplying the shop with what fruit and vegetables he produced. Thus their previous friendship had been restored although in truth the two men now had little in common.

I see you’ve bought Cathy with you today, Geoff said.

Yes, I supposed I’ll want her to take over the farm one day so it’s important for her to see how it’s all done, Clem replied proudly.

Women did not run farms - they married men who ran farms, but Geoff allowed the remark to pass.

Clem and Doris Murray, like Geoff and Elizabeth Ryan, had only one child. This was strange in its own way because both sets of parents had come from large families, each having many siblings which was the norm in those days when Australia was urged to populate or perish.

Like Caleb will one day take over this shop, said Geoff.

Yeah, but not too soon we hope, said Clem and the men laughed again.

Will you stay and have a cup of tea? Geoff asked.

Thank you Geoff - that will be good.

Between the shop and the store room and outhouse was a small kitchen, with a table and chairs. The gas stove in the corner saved Geoff and Caleb from climbing the stairs to the flat above every time they wanted a tea or some soup heated.

As Geoff placed the kettle on the stove Caleb walked past carrying the last of the crates to the store room.

We are going to have a cuppa, Geoff said to him, Are you going to join us?

I’m right, said Caleb, I’ll look after the shop.

Take a break, Geoff urged, If anyone comes into the shop we’ll hear them.

Caleb reluctantly agreed - he didn’t want to have to sit at the same table as Cathy Murray but there were times when it was prudent not to argue with his father. He hoped that suddenly the store would become busy and that he would be excused from the table.

The four of them sat at the table with the gingham tablecloth, cramped, and awkward, but the tea was hot and the biscuits sweet.

I heard on the radio before I came out, said Clem, that Goering has committed suicide.

Really, said Geoff, Caleb and I were only reading about the trials before you came in.

And they are going to execute some others before they have the chance to do the same thing - Ribbentrop goes today or tomorrow, Clem added dunking his biscuit into the tea.

Clem seemed quite elated at the news - it was as though he was speaking about his football team winning the grand final.

Line them all up and shoot them one by one, that’s what I would do. They are vermin, those blokes, and even dying is too good for them, he continued.

Geoff sipped on his tea. How did Goering commit suicide? he asked gently.

Cyanide tablet, I think it said, Clem said, shows what a coward the man was

I don’t think I could ever take my own life, said Geoff.

You could if you knew it was going to end soon anyway, said Clem, and you could argue that a cyanide pill was the easiest way to go rather than having a noose placed around your neck like the others will now have.

You could tell by the way that Clem was speaking that he was relishing the moment - his mind away in a far off concentration camp where these monsters were to be executed - visualising every savoury second of the hangings. Had he not been a man of the land and growing food for the nation he would have signed up to fight these evil Barbarians - at least that was what Clem told himself as he sipped tea some fifteen thousand miles away.

Caleb digested what was being said in silence aware that Cathy was looking at him with just a faint smile obviously not concerned one way or another at the fate of the War criminals.

Caleb, however, wondered how a man could take his own life. What thoughts entered a man’s head at that final moment when the point of no return had emerged? What did they expect to find at the end of the journey? Would people who took their own lives end up in the crucibles of Hell as his father had told him? Was there indeed a Heaven for all those who lived in the shadow of the Lord? There were so many questions to be answered and they were beyond his comprehension, but because they were beyond what he could understand or justify, it caused a maelstrom of confusion in his head and this disturbed him.

Are you going to the Runcie fair? Cathy suddenly asked of Caleb. His mind sprang away from death and wondered whether he had heard Cathy properly. He blinked at her, somewhat stupidly, he thought.

It’s the Runcie Fair next week, she explained.

No, I don’t think so, Caleb said awkwardly.

Why not, Caleb? asked Clem, It will be fun, and it only comes here once a year.

I don’t like fairs, Caleb responded sounding even more awkward than he did before.

Geoff shifted uneasily in his chair. Of course boys of his age should like the thrills and excitement of the Fair - it was normal and he didn’t want Clem or particularly Cathy to think that his son was abnormal.

You have never been to a fair, Geoff said.

No, but I know what they are, Caleb replied stiffly.

Clem would have been content to leave the subject there and return to the topic of German Nazis being executed, but Geoff wanted to eliminate the perception that his son was not normal.

Are you going, Cathy? asked Geoff.

Cathy shrugged her slender shoulders and said: I would like to, but I have nobody to go with and I wouldn’t go on my own.

Caleb knew that this could not be true because Cathy surely had many friends and would know many teenagers her age who would be going to the Fair.

Why don’t you go with Cathy? Geoff asked quickly of his son.

At that precise moment Caleb wished that he could disappear beneath the floor. His heart seemed to miss more than one beat and his mouth became dry like sand.

He managed to say, I - I don’t know.

What do you mean, you don’t know? his father said.

Caleb did not know how to reply - that was what he did not know.

Don’t force the boy, Clem said, perhaps irritated that anyone should spurn the chance of going out with his daughter.

He’ll be delighted to go to the Fair with Cathy, won’t you Caleb? Geoff said which sounded more like a command than a question.

Caleb nodded. This was a discussion where the conclusion was never going to be in his favour so he might as well agree now and worry about the consequences later.

Cathy Murray was visibly pleased. I shall look forward to that, she said demurely and she smiled in Caleb’s direction, but he pretended not to see.

For the remainder of the day Caleb wondered how he could avoid the date. It wasn’t that Cathy was unattractive or not good company; it was that he was uncomfortable with people, particularly those of the opposite sex.

As he stocked shelves and swept the floors the prospect of him being alone with Cathy Murray weighed heavily and nothing else occupied his mind. He thought that nearer the time he would feign illness, even though he was rarely ill, because he could not create any better excuse.

Caleb wondered why adults were so obsessed with their children’s social life. It was as though there was something hollow in their own lives that they had to vicariously recapture the golden moments of their youth through their children.

Caleb had no reason for anyone else in his life. He was just eighteen years of age for goodness sake with the wide horizons of the world lay uncluttered before him. Why obfuscate matters with the intrusion of someone else? An unnecessary distraction to what he wished to achieve in this world; perhaps to emulate the vision of Michael Cullen, or at the very least to open a chain of stores beyond the confines of Runcie.

He must find a way to avoid going out with Cathy Murray, and that was all there was for it.

TWO

The Runcie Fair was to be held on Saturday, October 12 which allowed Caleb eight days in which to create a reason why he would be unable to accompany Cathy Murray to the event.

His whole life seemed immersed in the problem. He thought about little else during the day and lay at night nurturing the same thoughts.

Feigning an illness would be the easiest solution although he knew that it would be difficult to convince anyone that he was ill when he wasn’t.

He had left it too late now, to simply say to Cathy that he was uncomfortable about the date, but even if he summoned the courage to utter those words he knew how painful they would be to her - and to his father.

As the day approached, Caleb realised that he had no option but to take Cathy to the Runcie Fair. He hoped that once they were there she would meet people she knew, which would allow him to slip quietly off into the anonymity of the night.

Are you looking forward to your date tonight? Geoff asked Caleb when they closed the store for the day at noon.

Caleb pretended he did not hear and disappeared into the outhouse.

Geoff smiled knowing that his son had heard the question perfectly.

In truth, Geoff did not wish any long term relationship to develop between Cathy Murray and Caleb. She was a nice girl, pleasant and well mannered, but she was raised in a family that did not worship the Lord and that concerned him.

No, what Geoff wanted out of this was for Caleb to experience the company of the opposite sex which may encourage him to go out more and meet a God fearing woman who would provide Elizabeth and him with healthy, buoyant grandchildren. Cathy Murray was hopefully the first stepping stone to the island of this ideal.

In his bedroom Caleb fussed about what he should wear. His father had told him not to wear a hat because it would get blown off on the Merry-Go-Round, but if he needed to cover his head on what might be a chilly night, he could always borrow one of Geoff’s flat caps.

Caleb hated the attention that he was attracting. Why couldn’t his parents just leave him alone and allow him to get ready on his own? This whole situation is becoming a circus, Caleb thought, and if I don’t get out of here quickly, I shall explode with frustration. If Caleb needed to go anywhere he would normally take the van, but his father said that he could hardly go on a date and invite his girlfriend into a van, so he was to take the Ford Anglia that Geoff had bought soon after the War had ended.

Caleb did not have a large wardrobe of clothes to choose.

The War had introduced rationing and the available material for clothing was scarce. Buying a suit was around 50 coupons of the 112 coupons available but Geoff insisted that he and Caleb should wear a suit to Church so they both went to a tailor in Runcie and was measured for one. By this time Jeans had been introduced and this is what many of the kids of Caleb’s age preferred to wear, but Geoff was stoutly patriotic to Britain and he did not wish for this American garment to influence his son.

But Caleb could not go to the Fair wearing his Sunday best suit, so he wore a check shirt, heavy tweed trousers and a flat cap that he borrowed from his father.

As Caleb drove to collect Cathy at the Murray’s farm he was wishing that he was anywhere but where he was. He thought that he should have refused the suggestion at the time - it would have made his life a whole lot easier.

But it was too late now. There was no alternative but to go through with it. Just as those thoughts permeated his mind he could see the Runcie Hotel on the opposite side of the road. He had never been inside a public house before and he had never drunk alcohol before, but this was a night when he needed something strong to bolster his courage.

He parked the car outside the hotel and stepped into the brisk October evening air. He was early, so he had time to buy one drink before picking up Cathy although as he walked into the bar he remembered that he had no idea what to ask for.

He had been to a movie once when the detective featuring in the film had sat at a bar drinking Scotch, so this is what he would drink too.

There were a few people in the bar, nobody that he recognised thank goodness - he didn’t want this visit being related to his father -