Happily "Never" After

By Paula Heath

Don’t break a witch’s heart. A beautifully tragic love story spanning a thousand years. A mystical gothic romance, full of suspenseful twists and compelling characters who will lead you into their hidden world, where nothing is as it seems... A millennia ago, Victoria was jilted at the altar. Under the full moon, she forsakes her soul and is forced to roam the land waiting for the next incarnation of her lover, Zane. So many tormented nights of endless searching. Too many hollow days of the constant craving. So much time wasted. And her only companion is her dead heart, evermore bitter, as she marches hostile and dangerous through to modern day...Four women. Two lifetimes in a thousand years because the devil had other plans. Who will reach Zane first? Who will win his heart? Who will help him escape this time? Who will be tricked to death? Elspeth believes she is going mad when an internal and extreme voice begins to interfere in her life. It is very determined Elspeth should comply with its demands. And not all of them are good. Megan skates on the thin edge of sanity at the best of times, so when a white stag steps out of the mists twice in a day, Megan finds herself sailing sideways towards an explosive destination. Josephine stares at her reflection: long black hair, eyes of grey - and glaring back are witch's eyes of black onyx - full of scorn for such cruel betrayal. Zane has an eerie, unshakable feeling that something inevitable is about to happen. In his nightmares, he is stalked by a beautiful evil creature. By day, these women are drawing steadily closer...The hands of fate grip forever around the throats of the lost, dragging them ever nearer to damnation. Fast-paced, funny and heart-breaking, in a world where nothing is as it seems; everyone is running a race where the goal is uncertain and the contestants unknown.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Dec 18, 2014
• ISBN: 9781483544502

Book preview

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1

Elspeth walked the corridors, wishing all the best to the patients she left behind at the end of her night shift. All the walls were off white; grimy from a lack of paint that would otherwise freshen Royal General Hospital and make it a more welcoming place.

She disliked leaving the patients she had cared for that night, because she longed to do more for them in an instant that never truly showed itself. As it was, she was doing her best, her bit to help all she could with no mistakes. She never took her job lightly. And she preferred her vocation to any other aspect of her life. Her heart sank as she entered the new day. Not because it was raining, but because she was going home.

As she went to her car, the foreboding grew until she found herself sitting there, windscreen wipers on, staring out at the sheets of rain delivered by a generous God. She couldn’t put it off much longer. Soon, she would have to start the engine. Soon, she would have to leave her place of sanctuary. She would like to have some help in turning this key. Life was becoming an ever-increasing struggle; a battle of wills and she felt she was losing; clinging on to nothingness, a hopeless situation. And there was no way out. The only way was down and she was sinking. Sinking in a turmoil that was growing blacker by the day.

Hospital staff milled around outside. Some got into their cars and headed off from the graveyard shift into the early morning as others made their way to the main entrance to begin their shift. Elspeth’s eyes floated over to one nurse in particular. The blonde was hurrying to her own car, coat held over her head to save getting wet. But Elspeth recognised the waddle. She sank into her seat and hit off the wipers to let the windscreen congest in raindrops that would disguise, and shield her from more woe. This nurse, she didn’t want to see, had no intention of acknowledging. This nurse was called Megan. And this nurse was having an affair with Elspeth’s husband.

She studied Megan’s slender legs caressed by black stockings beneath the blue uniform; caressed by her husband with his kisses, his tongue, and his cruel hands. As the mistress slid gently into her car, tears of rejection fell down Elspeth’s hot cheeks. Raindrops melted the scene away. Tears scorched what remained. She should spring out of her own vehicle, slam the door, race to Megan and drag her into the dawn by her hair where she would scratch out her eyes. Not very nurse-like.

Do it.

Elspeth jumped. She swung around to check the back seat. The voice had sounded so alive and so near. Nobody else was accompanying her. How strange to think the voice had sounded external?

Do it, Elspeth! She is screwing your husband; messing up your life!

I can’t, Elspeth whimpered at the voice she now realised to be rising up from her own twisted anguish.

So, you’re going to let her win, let her get away with it?

Elspeth had found out three months ago that her husband was cheating on her with Megan, her best friend. How could Megan do this to her? It seemed as though they had been friends since forever - well, since nappies at least. They had gone to the same primary school, and then secondary modern and then on to college, and into nursing – and now this. Megan had even been the chief bridesmaid at Elspeth’s wedding. Now, Elspeth wondered how long their sordid little secret had been going on; the groom screwing the bridesmaid on the hotel bed with the bride in white downstairs being the perfect hostess? Elspeth felt the jagged blade of jealousy that was her right. Only her tormented imagination stood by her now. Yet she still didn’t have the strength to confront either party; not her husband nor her friend. She was in denial. Perhaps she liked the sorrow? Perhaps she believed she had somehow deserved some of it?

That’s it, feel the pain of that bitch’s cruelty. Let it grab you enough to act.

Shut up! Elspeth hissed.

Was she losing her mind? It was the first time she had ever heard a voice so strong manifest within. Obviously, she had thought in words before, alongside images and feelings, instincts and impulses. But this was different. This voice sounded like her but it held strength and a clarity that couldn’t be repressed or muted. There was no ignoring the sing-along tones of the words ringing in her mind, saying, Grab her by her throat, drag her from her god-damn car, and ask the slapper what her god-damn problem is, screwing your husband every given moment?

Elspeth watched Megan pull away and disappear into the developing early morning traffic. Then she switched on her wipers a little faster to clear the glass that had protected.

How brave of you, Elspeth. Well done!

Elspeth detected the sarcasm of her conflicting inner voice about the same time as she felt the plunge of despair and failure wash throughout.

I’m not weak. I’ll give it to God, Elspeth haughtily whispered to herself.

She felt whatever it was inside her steam as the voice sneered, But God is doing nothing. It is your problem. Stop passing it off. You believe in fate, and look where you are.

Shut up! I don’t need a breakdown on top of everything else; I haven’t got the time. My patients need me.

I’ll shut up then; go back to sleep. You go back to denial. Tend to the sick. Tend to your husband and your bruises, not to mention your agony.

Thank you, I think I will. Elspeth turned on the lights and the stereo and began humming to the music that was blaring so loudly the speakers were distorting. She drove unconscious of each decision, caught in her own lost world. She had wanted so much for herself when she was younger. She thought life would be easier than this. All she had ever wanted was acceptance and love and respect. She was a good person. How had she got to such a dismal place in her life? It hadn’t always been such a struggle. Up until three months ago, everything had been bearable; married for seven years by the age of twenty-five. But then, three months ago she had learnt that not only was her husband a controlling, manipulating asshole who could result to violence on a bad day and at best was verbally cruel on a good day, he was also seeing to her best friend and work colleague, the blonde, salacious Megan.

Elspeth drove along town roads, then country lanes, towards the enormous Forest. She entered the forest roads, unaware of the usual millions of trees witnessing her journey as she drew ever closer to the scattered village; in turn towards her comfortable home and cheating husband. And it seemed too soon, she was there, pulling up her long, sloping driveway.

His car was there.

So, he hadn’t left for work early. She was hoping he might have given her the privacy to go insane on her own, and cursed at the timing as he opened the front door, mobile phone glued to his ear as he talked, not noticing her as he made his way to his own car. Mobile signals in the Forest was hit and miss, and sporadic enough there were those who didn’t even bother. Must be his lucky day.

Michael swung his BMW keys in his other hand while concentrating on the phone conversation. I’ll see you in five, he said hastily to end the call as he noticed his wife. He slid his phone into his suit pocket. She looked like shit.

Bad night at the office? Michael asked, studying the waif as she stood a little awkwardly before him.

Elspeth moved her flaming red hair from her tired eyes to look at the man she thought she loved. Why did she have to feel so much anguish when all she had ever done was care?

Michael felt her gaze. She seemed lost for a moment, lips threatening to move, as emerald eyes searched for his soul yet couldn’t find it. He was going to be late.

Work? His wife asked, glancing at his pocket that contained the phone.

Of course.

And they couldn’t call you on the home phone? Elspeth dared to ask.

They thought I had left already. What is this, an inquisition?

Elspeth noticed the familiar hardening of his eyes and felt their warning. Have a nice day. She attempted to smile.

Michael planted a kiss on her forehead. She was so doleful it was pitiful. He squeezed her elbow and kissed her again. It felt good to have two women wanting him. He felt a stirring ignited by the power, and moved her blood-red curls from her neck where he planted more kisses with a forming grin.

Elspeth noticed the voice inside had not piped up. It had not spoken one word to draw attention to the violation she was feeling. Perhaps, indeed the voice truly had fallen silent? Relieved to feel sane, Elspeth pulled back from Michael. You’ll be late.

Letting her go for now, Michael rounded his black, highly-waxed car, bubble-wrapped in rain, and called, Love you.

I doubt it.

2

Megan undone the top two buttons of her uniform and pushed her face closer to the windscreen to study the surrounding forests. She had parked in her usual place in a clearing in denser woods, and off the beaten track, away from prying eyes and waggling tongues. There was only one tongue she wanted to waggle, and that was her own teasing that of her lover’s. The anticipation was making her grow hot, and her excitement caused her to grumble at his lateness.

Several minutes later, the BMW pulled into the clearing, headlights hitting her beaming face as it swung in beside her. Megan got out, into the drizzle and, avoiding puddles, she skipped around to the passenger door, and let herself in, much to Michael’s surprise.

Indignantly, he said, Aren’t we going to your car?

We always do it in mine. What are you scared of, baby? You afraid missy might find some forensic evidence, is that it?

Something like that. It’s a bit dodgy.

Oh, relax. She doesn’t suspect us, does she?

No. Michael shifted in his seat, wanting to avoid the subject of his wife. His mistress laid her sensual hand on his chest and slid fingers in past his buttons. I just don’t need to take any more risks than necessary.

Of course. But your car is so much bigger. I’ll have more room to spread out. You’ll like that. We could move to the back seat if it gets too intense. We could move to the bonnet; do it in the rain – if you’re feeling daring. You know I’ll keep it alive. Megan finished undoing the last of Michael’s buttons and pulled his shirt from his trousers. As her lover groaned and succumbed to her advances, head bending towards hers for a kiss, Megan congratulated herself that she had manipulated him just how she had intended. She had wanted to make love on his territory. She wanted to feel the seat beneath her as she pushed her tongue into his mouth and squirmed and wriggled with mounting lust. For this was where his dutiful little wife would sit if they shared a journey together in happy matrimony. This very seat was the wife’s place; and the mistress was soiling it with wanton juices as she gyrated some more. She detested the very thought of his wife, and this was the closest thing she could do for revenge, without going up to her so-called friend and announcing it with open hostility. Megan wasn’t quite sure at what point in their lives she had begun to dislike Elspeth. As she worked Michael’s penis free from his boxers, she considered it briefly, and came to the conclusion that she had been jealous of Elspeth for quite some time. Elspeth had always done better at school. Elspeth had always dressed classier, had a nicer home, a flashier car, a better life; and Megan wanted some of that. Or at least to attempt to spoil some of that. And why not? Who was there to stop her? Not Elspeth, that was for sure. Weak, drippy and scared of her own shadow was Elspeth.

Megan pushed more forcefully against Michael’s mouth as she sat astride him. She gasped in satisfaction of his eagerness. Lead piping, Megan giggled, riding slowly then speeding up. Miss Scarlet, in the car with lead piping.

Whatever does it for you, Michael announced, holding her buttocks to help control her keenness before it all got too much. Slow down, Megan; you want it to last a bit longer.

No, Megan pleaded. I want to do it and do it. She grabbed Michael’s face as she continued to move. She stared hard at him, wondering what Elspeth would think if she could see them now. She delivered kisses and licks to his thin lips. Her pleasure knew no ends as she rode forth with gasps and shrieks. She didn’t care of what Michael was wanting or what pleasure he was receiving. He was a man, he would be enjoying it. She wanted this right now. She had earned it. Always the underdog, nobody had ever cared for Megan in life the way they had for Elspeth. Elspeth had such nice parents who delivered such a handsome childhood of wealth and presents and daytrips. And Megan was sabotaging the spoilt little rich kid’s happy dreams. Megan sucked on her lover’s face with deep satisfaction as she orgasmed.

Michael fought to keep up but soon found his own gratification. His lover climbed off and adjusted her clothes. She melted back into the passenger seat beside him, where she squirmed to straighten her attire rather elaborately.

You’re an animal, Michael said.

You’re a pussy cat. Megan nudged his chin affectionately, and then got out of his car. Call me. She gave him a little wave through the window as she lowered her cleavage to clinch the next rendezvous.

The breeze picked up around her. Although the rain had stopped, odd drips fell heavily to the leafy ground. Two ravens took to flight, squawking their alarm.

Megan made her way back to her own car, avoiding the puddles once more. She clenched her coat more tightly as coolness drifted to caress. She glanced about. Sudden mists had descended upon the forests; endeavouring to entrap.

Michael wound down his window. Drive safely. It’s foggy. Bloody winter.

It’s autumn, Megan called, amused at his lack of observation.

Autumn, winter; it’s all a fucking drag. Roll on summer.

Don’t wish your life away, Michael. Appreciate the colours.

You’re starting to sound like someone else we know, Michael launched, trying to stay light-hearted. He didn’t need both of his women plaguing him to give a toss.

I was taking the piss, Megan giggled. She knew Elspeth loved nature, and all the little creatures and all the goddamn orange leaves. She added, Enjoy the mists also, for they too are made of God; His breath over the land.

Yeah, right, Michael said, getting the gist that his wife was the crux of his mistress’s jokes. I appreciate all that God has given me this day.

Good, Megan beamed, planting his gratitude to her memory. See you soon. She got into her car, and let Michael leave the clearing first, since he needed to get to work, whereas she was just going back to her flat for some sleep.

The trees witnessed the black car leave the clearing and the little red hatchback hung back in the wings. The blonde sat motionless for some time, in thought. The fingers of fog entwined the red metal and danced in swirls over and around, blessing and nurturing, as ghostly tentacles reached out under the car and twisted around the tyres before releasing and moving onwards to devour the nearby bracken. The mists were graceful and elegantly dangerous; its moment of glory upon the earth.

Above the tree canopies, the air was clear and free from the moisture that settled a mystical element to the forests. The forests were vast. They stretched further than the mortal eye in every direction. The forest spread onwards over fifteen square miles; mostly untamed and all in a shroud of white ghostly apparitions.

The little red car drove out of the clearing and began lurching every which way over the forest trails, hitting puddles, spraying mud. Two ravens landed on an oak branch as the car past beneath. They folded their wings behind them in their majesty and watched as the car attempted to steer clear of all damage and danger. Both ravens let forth a squawk as their beady eyes found humour in this scene.

Megan wiped the inside of the windscreen that was becoming impossible to see out, as the inside of the car had misted up with over exertion and body heat. Outside was nearly as bad, and added together it was getting increasingly ludicrous to drive. She reached down to flick on the blower, and then she reached to the stereo to click on the radio.

Someone up there was having a laugh as the tune playing on the radio was called, ‘Smoke Gets In Your Eyes’. Someone was definitely having a giggle. Megan decided not to be the joke so sang along graciously complying, while straining to see more than two metres in front of her bumper. The car lights bouncing off the white wall were of no help.

Something whiter than the air surrounding move in front of the car. Megan hit the brakes. The car skidded. The back end slid out slightly as she fought to steer. The car stopped. She stopped screaming. She composed herself. What had she seen? A figure of white had moved into her path and defiantly waited for her to mow it down. It was like this thing wanted her to dare to touch it. It had been magnificent, glorious. She had definitely seen two eyes, blacker than night, staring at her coldly. Had there been a set of antlers in the mist? Her brain had taken all this information in within a second, but now she was stationary and looking out at the forest track, there was nothing there but the mists from before.

Megan pulled up the handbrake and opened her door. She stood halfway out of her car to check the way ahead and perhaps get an answer to what had definitely not been her imagination. But there was nothing to see. There was little else to hear except for a pair of ravens, squawking distantly that, to a more observant ear, could have brought to mind a pair of old witches cackling as they fled away from mischief.

3

Alice and Joan stood either side of the window and moved the net curtain a little more while craning their wrinkled necks to see better. From their grey, poky cottage they looked across the fence at the adjoining house. It was modernised, towering above and four times the size of their home. Sharpening their eyes, the women looked on. Next door was quiet. Not a sound could be heard through the shared walls. Not a movement was made in the adjoining garden. This was growing boring. They had seen Michael leave for work and Elspeth return from night duty; saw the kisses he gave his wife, too. But there was news in the village - news that all was not well with the youthful and pretty residents. Michael was having an affair.

Joan turned to Alice, her younger sister by five years though both were in their seventies. She said, Do you reckon he’ll be back for some lunch?

Want to be. I ain’t standing here all blessed day, my feet are crippling my back, Alice replied, rubbing the end of her hooked nose that was itching after catching it in the laced netting.

Oh, oh… Joan jigged. I hear a car. Wait. Here it comes. Sounds like a large one coming around the bend. It’s slowing down. Here it is. Damn and curses. It ain’t him. She threw a glance over her shoulder at her fifty-five year old son who was sitting in his favourite chair, reading the paper. What time is it, Andrew?

Andrew flicked his wrist to synchronise his watch against the mantle clock. You’ve got seven more minutes, if he leaves work on time. Of course, he might get waylaid, so to speak. There’s many-a-way to skin a rabbit besides doing it on your own kitchen table.

The two spinsters paid him a more quizzical look. Being inertly dim and interbred, they had no idea what he was talking about.

What have rabbits got to do with the price of cheese? Alice asked.

Bloody nothing, Andrew said. But I mean, he might be stopping off somewhere with his floozy for a bit of the other before he comes home for lunch. Don’t forget, Sleeping Beauty is in bed. Her curtains were drawn earlier as I walked up the garden, and there was no noise coming through the walls the last time I checked.

Oh…oh. Another car, Alice called for Joan’s attention and both women shifted the curtain to hide better. Hearts thudding, mouths drying, they waited eagerly for some excitement to enter their dull, none-existent lives.

Disappointment knew no ends as a different car swept by the grimy little cottage, and the two sisters cussed beneath their breath.

It was only Maple Wilkes from up the road; looks like she had her son in the car. Is he home from university, then? Alice asked.

He must be. Remember to ask at Bingo, someone is bound to know, said Joan.

A car! called Alice. It’s him! Quick.

Both women stared out at the road, and found long awaited happiness.

Andrew dropped his paper and tried to peer out as best he could without having to raise his lazy ass from out of his chair. But it was no good. He couldn’t see a thing. Reluctantly he stood up, patted his bulging beer-gut and sauntered over to the window to be by his unmarried mother and his aunt. He stretched his aching back that had spent much of yesterday in a taxi, driving passengers to their destinations, and then glared hard at young Michael from next door. Nothing much to see, is there? Andrew asked, dejected. No love bites from here. No tell-tale signs - no scratches of a catfight on his face; no gossip.

He looks haggard, if you ask me, Alice informed.

Wouldn’t you, if you had two lovers? Joan huffed.

I’d be grateful for one, said Alice.

Dear Christ, moaned Andrew. Please… He didn’t like the thought of either woman having a sex life. All of it was revolting. It was sex that got his poor mother into trouble in the first place. Back then, when he came into the world, it wasn’t fit for a mother not to be married. The stigma he faced at school, the word ‘bastard’; he dealt with the sin all his life. He blamed his father, whoever he was, that had disappeared into the haze, never to be seen again. He didn’t blame his poor mother that was left with the burden of telling her own parents and then left with the struggle of raising him in such a vicious and judgemental world. And here was this little upstart over yonder path, getting away with having two women. No babies knocking on his goddamn door pointing the finger, oh no. Life hadn’t dealt Michael any blows that he could see; and it wasn’t for the want of searching. Andrew was fascinated by these young lives alongside him, and resentful that they were having so much damn fun and getting away with it.

He’s gone into the house, Joan announced. That’s it then.

The hell it is, Alice said, hobbling away from the window and around the furniture to exit the living room. She carried on at full tilt to the hall wall, which meshed the two houses together and picked up her glass from a little side-stand. Propping it against the wall, she stuck her ear to it and held her breath to get a better reception. She could hear shuffling but that was all.

Suddenly Joan was behind her, saying, What are they up to? Is it worth phoning Victoria?

Not worth any such moves. Nothing to report, unless he’s gone upstairs.

The two women glanced knowingly at each other, and then practically fell over each other to get to the stairs. Glass in skeletal hand; Alice climbed the steep staircase of the dingy cottage, her sister in hot pursuit. They reached the landing rather noisily, and ushered each other to be more quiet should the neighbours detect them. Stifling their excitement, the sisters then went to the bathroom, flung the door open and raced to the furthest wall.

Breathless, Alice slapped the glass against magnolia wallpaper, her ear to the glass and listened intensely. Still nothing.

Joan retrieved her usual beaker from the shelf purposely built to store the amplifier and held it under the cold tap. This will pick them up, for sure, she grinned. Step aside.

But I got here first.

But I’ve got better hearing.

Says who?

Doctor Dew-nuts.

Bullshit. I ain’t budging. Now, belt up before I miss something.

Miffed to have lost the battle, Joan flung the toilet lid down and perched her bulky frame precariously on top to get to a piece of the wall within the confines of the narrow bathroom. This was proving silly, she decided as arthritic pain shot through her hefty knees and her feet began to tingle from lack of blood. She tolerated the discomfort some more, when suddenly she picked up the distinct sounds of violent tapping. For a moment, her mind searched for a source to what could be causing such a direct hammering as the thudding grew loader and steadily faster. Was Michael doing some DIY? Was he pummelling in Elspeth’s angelic face with a claw hammer? Slowly, the cause dawned on her, and hesitantly Joan lowered the glass and turned to her sister. Alice was standing in her jogging bottoms and pink apron, white frizz of curls bobbing manically about her scrawny features, free hand on her hip – and her heeled slipper tapping impatiently on bare floorboards. This was unbelievable. Shut up, god-damn it. Can you seriously hear past that bloody din you’re making?

Nothing’s happening.

How can you tell? It’s like a heavy-duty road drill going off in here. Where’s the sense?

It winds me up. Have they installed sound-proofing?

I give up, I declare! What’s the point? You’re too damn impatient, by far. You’re corrupting my investigations.

And they’re giving me a twisted hernia right in the side of my guts, and my neck spasms.

Go back downstairs then. I can manage on my own. I’ll give you a call if there’s any change of developments, I promise. Puffing and blowing, Joan clambered off the toilet seat.

Alice surrendered to her aches and haughtily stomped out of the room. Joan understood her sister’s irritation though; spying wasn’t the easiest job at seventy plus, and if they weren’t so addicted to it, perhaps they would be able to stop. Perhaps also, one day soon they would be able to stop gossiping, quit elaborating and bending the truth to satisfy their own sick fantasies, but this wouldn’t happen until death. So, excitedly, Joan stayed in the little bathroom, leaning her fat, spongy neck towards dirty magnolia and felt bliss drive through her furred veins.

Alice struggled down the last of the stairs, grasping tightly on the balustrade to support her fragility, and then met up with her nephew who was stirring tea in the kitchen.

We couldn’t detect a bloody thing. Who knows what they’re up to in there?

Andrew sipped his tea in contemplation, and then said, Everything comes to those who wait.

Indeed, my dear. But that doesn’t help our plight today.

Have patience. Human nature being what it is, I expect the proverbial shit to hit the fan around there any time now. It’s like a time bomb. Can’t you feel it seeping in like rot? Can you sense the tension mounting, as we speak?

I want to; now that would be fun.

4

Having climbed the stairs quietly, Michael went to the main bedroom to find Elspeth sleeping in the bed he had got out of this morning. The curtains were heavily lined so the room was dark, yet he could make out the mop of curls and knew them to be red. At some point