The Reunion, Bk 1

By B C Austen

Ursula Morgan returns home from New York to attend a school reunion, where she connects with Mike Turner, and their mutual attraction is deep. The visit home also brings back a tragedy. Who killed her little brother twenty years ago? Some disturbing facts come to light, indicating that the killer could be hiding in plain sight. Her new relationship with Mike falters when he disappears, and all her dreams of starting a new life with him have dissipated. Left alone to hunt down a killer she is now in mortal danger.

• Language: English
• Publisher: B C Austen
• Release date: Feb 18, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005849825

B C Austen

Barbara is a retired medical receptionist and a learner blogger. She is a native of Western Australian country towns, but has now joined the city rat race. Among her hobbies she has a small but fascinating collection of weird and wonderful teapots.She has been learning creative writing for a few years now and her first novel has just hit the ebook market.Her family is her life, but movies and coffee with friends are all important.

Book preview

The Reunion

Book 1

B C Austen

THE REUNION

Book 1

by B C Austen

Copyright 2022 B C Austen

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords License Statement

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 reader. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favourite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Cover designed by the author.

I would love to hear your thoughts on the book, good or not so good. Feel free to leave a review from your download site or email me at the address below.

Email: [e-mail]

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I began this perilous journey into indie publishing with no idea my wonderful stories was going to profoundly change me. The highs of getting words written were simply amazing while the lows were just not quite bad enough to make me quit. Sleepless nights and living amongst my characters was something I never dreamt would happen. I’ve realised that the writer in me looked at the world from a more idyllic perspective.

My family were an incredible source of encouragement and inspiration which enabled this writing project from creation to publication. Whilst they were amazed and nervous that their matriarch was putting pen to paper their underlying presence and assistance was invaluable.

I wish to personally thank Val, Laurel, Jo and Pam, my loyal beta readers, for their role in getting this book to the standard required for the general public to enjoy. Without their fresh eyes, their editing support, their knowledge and merely by providing motivation during this time, none of it would have been possible.

I look forward to their continued participation and contributions for all my books.

Chapter One

MARYVILLE, SOUTH AUSTRALIA

1985

When the school bus pulled over at the crossing on the isolated back road near their farm Ursula and Aled jumped out, then moved out of its way as it drove off. Their home was only a half kilometre away and Ursula was in urgent need of the toilet.

She yelled at Aled to get a move on, but he wasn’t paying any attention. His homework project for that week was to gather a collection of small, unusual rocks, and his ten-year-old eyes were quick to spot one that was partially embedded in the ground. It was near an ant nest and so intent was he on his purpose that not even those biting pests could distract him.

Their father had erected a small bike shed nearby and Ursula made her way there. She pulled the smaller bike out first and laid it on the ground, again calling out to hurry her little brother on. She had just wheeled her own cycle onto the side of the road when she heard a car speeding towards them and there was no indication that the driver would slow down to take the corner. For a few seconds she stood frozen to the spot as she watched it heading out of control in a direct line for Aled. She screamed a warning, then ran to him, hoping to get him out of the way, but both were hit.

* * *

NEW YORK, USA

Tuesday March 30, 2010

Ursula’s double lined curtains were failing miserably at blocking out the luminescence emitted by the full moon. Even the new eye mask she was wearing failed at undertaking its one job. She rolled onto her back and pulled the mask off and it took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust. The bedside clock added to the brightness, beaming the time across the room. Eleven-thirty-three.

Oh, for goodness sake, I’ve only had an hour’s sleep and I’m wide awake again.

She turned back and pulled the bedding over her head, but alas, her mind was already racing and it soon became clear that sleep would not come a second time.

Foremost in her thoughts was her job, and for this flight attendant, the cause of her sleeplessness was the spate of unnerving onboard incidents that were becoming more prevalent. As she tried to settle again a procession of the most recent tribulations surged through her thoughts, going over and over them until the details became distorted.

Get out of bed, Ursula. You’re overtired and driving yourself nuts with your fears. Put a stop to it. It’s the middle of the night, for goodness sake. What the hell shall I do with myself? Bake a cake?

Home was New York, the Big Apple. The most exciting, captivating, metropolis in the world, but for some months now the allure had faded, and she knew that it wasn’t where she wanted to be. It was a lifestyle any freedom loving Australian woman would give her eye teeth for, but for Ursula Morgan, the attraction was no longer there. Long hours of working as an air hostess on the European routes were crippling her, physically and mentally.

Her divorce from Nathan three years ago had left her at a low ebb, and if she was honest with herself, that was about the time when the seeds of doubt crept in, because not much had been going right for her from then on.

The marriage had lasted almost four years, but their headstrong personalities dictated that they couldn’t live together for the long term. The glue that should have bound them wasn’t strong enough to go the distance, and since they’d split up, the mental cracks were getting wider, and the glamour of the job was fading. She was sick of maintaining a sunny facade when inside she was moody and glum. As for her personal life, well, there was none. Just one big lonely existence. This small town country girl was well and truly out of her element.

She was tired of everything. Of the demanding shifts, her loneliness, and the endless sucking up to the passengers, the drunks, the bad tempered ones, the fearful ones. It was a long list.

The time was coming, where she needed to find a less demanding career. The increase of frightening episodes during flights had reinforced her fears that safety was less of a concern to the hierarchy of Air Atlantic Airlines than making pots of money. Some of these incidents were minor, but the two that had taken place in the past week had left their mark on her. The most recent happened on her last shift just as she and Paula, her co-worker, had taken the meal trolley out of the galley. They had just begun to interact with the passengers when the plane shuddered and lurched violently. The trolley pitched sideways and banged against the seats, then it took on a life of its own by heading off down the aisle, spilling liquid as it went, sending its load of untethered items flying. Mayhem followed. Both Ursula and Paula had lost their footing and fallen forward. Paula was nearest the trolley and got up and grabbed the marauding metal monster before it caused anyone a serious injury. It was fortunate that its cargo was only an assortment of cold drinks.

The passengers on the right side of the airship were pointing out their windows, shouting that it was a near miss. The cause of the incident was a Boeing 747 that had just passed perilously close, and its jet blast had forced their flight to buffet back and forth. Paula was able to control the cart and pull it back into the galley; after which much time was spent calming the passengers. The pilot, to his credit, had worked frantically to stabilise the craft as they had lost significant altitude; but it left her shaken for the rest of the journey. Thankfully, head steward Marcel, was quickly on the speaker to reassure everyone that the danger had been averted and to remain seated. To add to the horror, some passengers vomited from the shock; which resulted in the clean-up throwing the on-board schedule out. The atmosphere was tense for a long time afterwards, with many resorting to consuming large quantities of alcohol to ease their anxiety, but that wasn’t an option for the crew.

Her mind went further back to the other occasion, which emanated from a different situation, but it still managed to produce a similar sense of dread. A fight had broken out between two men, who had initially boarded as friends. It was unclear what had started them off, but without warning it escalated into fists flying. The taller one in the aisle seat got up and backed away, but then his mate came at him aggressively, yelling profanities and threats. Whilst other passengers tried to restrain them, Ursula’s instincts made her stand back. Once the fight was under control, she saw that an elderly woman had been injured in the scuffle. She was in severe pain with a dislocated shoulder and there was no doctor on board to fix it. Fortunately a nurse came forward and tended to her.

After reading the online comments under the newspaper article Ursula became angry about what passengers had to say about the crew, and how they perceived the lack of care the airline gave them. She was also disgruntled that the airline made no attempt to provide counselling for the staff. Whilst the two incidents were disturbing, she’d heard of others that were much worse, and they seemed to be happening more frequently.

Ursula got up from the bed, went to the toilet and then made herself a cup of hot chocolate. She stood looking out the window as she sipped at it. The sky scrapers were ablaze with lights and colourful advertising signs, and it was gratifying to see that the full moon had not managed to dampen the view. It was a sight that rarely failed to amaze her, but tonight it couldn’t erase her feelings of gloom.

A career change was what she badly needed, and if she didn’t do something about it soon it could be too late. Visions of seeing her flight exploding or crashing were invading her thoughts more often. She felt trapped because the pay was good; and she liked shift work, but she didn’t fancy managing her life on less money.

She wanted for little, but those feelings of disillusionment were starting to take precedence over everything, and the urge to go home was not going away. The last time she’d felt this insecure was when her marriage was disintegrating and she’d wanted to throw it all away and go home.

Home was in South Australia, at the family orchard in Maryville, a rich fruit growing region, nestled alongside the Onkaparinga River. The farm itself was situated about eight kilometres to the west of the township, which boasted about four thousand inhabitants and was roughly a forty minute drive east of Adelaide.

Her ground floor apartment in the Queen Anne style building suited Ursula, and the rent wasn’t too exorbitant. Since she’d taken up the lease she liked how convenient the location was. The area was upmarket and wasn’t too far from the multi-story, luxury penthouse apartments which had risen along the Jersey side of the Hudson River. She got on well with her landlady, Alice Marchant, a retired barrister. Alice was a religious woman in her sixties, and she lived on-site, upstairs on the second level. She had inherited the home from a rich uncle, and there was some confirmed history that it was used as a brothel at the turn of the twentieth century.

‘Come with me, Ursula,’ Alice said a month after she’d moved in, ‘and I’ll show you what’s left of the brothel. You can store anything up here if you haven’t enough space in your room.’

She led her up to the third floor, the attic, to show her around.

‘Goodness me,’ said Ursula, when Alice threw open the door of the first room they came to. ‘This stuff looks like it came from the Wild West days. I’ve only ever seen this in photos.’

Her eyes were drawn to a faded and dusty red chaise longue pushed against the wall. Above it were several vintage paintings of naked ladies in various poses. Leaning against an old antique upright piano was a full length mirror in a gilded frame. She could empathise with Alice that you could feel the atmosphere coming from them.

In another of the disused rooms there were several rolled up mats strewn around and a set of velvet curtains were lying on the floor where they’d rotted and fallen off the rails. A hat stand still had a feather boa hanging beside an elegant brown cloche hat. Ursula felt the two items would disintegrate into dust if she touched them. The red and gold flowery wallpaper was faded but still looked gaudy.

‘I have to keep the area closed off. It feels unsafe to me as I’m sure you’ve felt the floorboards creaking. Maybe you shouldn’t bring anything up here.’

‘How fascinating. It looks like an old film set. Why are you keeping it all? It looks trashy, doesn’t it?’

‘I don’t know, really. I’m superstitious and it might bring bad luck if I disturb the spirits. I’ve had the priest up here a few times to de-brothelise the place, but I can still sense the decadence.’

Ursula swallowed the last mouthful of her hot chocolate and put the mug down on the window sill. She gave a grin when she saw there was another one still sitting there from her last sleepless night, which was probably from a week ago. She picked it up and saw it was one of the set of two, a wedding present from Marcel, who’d had them specially imprinted with their names.

"Ursula & Nathan deNeuve - 2004"

Ursula felt a twinge of sadness as she dwelt on the memory of her marriage. ‘I’ll have to add Divorced 2008 onto that.’

How would one best describe her marriage to Nathan? Crazy? Heady? Hurtful? What should have lasted at least thirty years was squashed down to four, and all the normal highs and lows had come along too fast to cope with.

She was prepared to accept that she was partly to blame for its demise, but on closer reflection she found that Nathan had never really adjusted from singledom. Why had she become morose and suspicious? Was it because her emotional needs weren’t being met, or did the build up of unresolved issues bring her down?

Nathan was an architect and doing well. He was originally from Perth, Western Australia, but was living and working in New York. She met him when she was still with Qantas and he’d been on her flight from London to New York. The attraction between the two had grown like wildfire. A torrid romance followed, and they got married in Hawaii two months later.

He was a typical laid back Aussie, but had no trouble settling into the American lifestyle. He was tall, tanned and attractive, and certainly no slouch in the bedroom. He seemed the perfect catch, and their intense romance blossomed during that first year. Then the cracks began to appear. Being away from him on the long shifts was difficult, and Ursula’s jealous streak grew out of it. Arguments became more frequent as did her sulking. In hindsight, she wasn’t sure if he had caused them or if they were always there and he brought out the worst in her. Whatever the reason, their marriage was in crisis mode and Nathan took on more work to shield himself from her accusations, but to Ursula, he had closed himself off.

The incident that finally pushed their marriage over the edge was a quirky one, and it occurred on the very day she had vowed to push aside her negativity towards him, to turn over a new leaf and see if they could work out their problems. Ursula had a surprise for Nathan. She’d put in for some extra leave when her shift ended and was travelling home in a taxi when it pulled up behind a line of cars at a red light. Was it serendipity that she caught sight of Nathan in the street greeting an acquaintance, an older man. She wound the window down and was on the verge of calling out to him, but something stopped her. The two men hugged, said a few words, then hugged again. It was obvious they were extremely delighted to run into each other.

She re-wound the window, not wanting him to see her. She didn’t know why, but the scene made her uneasy, and her jealousy was back, besides, she couldn’t remember the last time he’d hugged her like that. This man was handsome, tall, with a touch of grey in his dark hair. She was drawn to his appearance herself, and as she leaned back in the seat, she tried to convince herself that it was nothing out of the ordinary.

Nathan came home around six-thirty that evening. Ursula had spent the afternoon stewing about what she’d seen, and rather than wait for him to tell her she confronted him with it before he’d barely come into the apartment.

‘I saw you today, talking to a nice looking guy. Who was he?’

‘What are you talking about? I was in the office all day, I had a big client in the afternoon.’

‘This would have been around lunch time, outside The Roxy Hotel.’

‘Oh, that.’ He appeared to stall as his mind tried to recall the incident. ‘Sorry, I’d forgotten about that little thing. I was on my way to pick up some lunch and get some fresh air, and…’

‘Are you sure that’s all it was?’

‘All what was?’ He put his briefcase down and frowned as he came towards her.

‘I saw the greeting, and it didn’t look like a work thing.’

‘Well it was. Why are you making an issue of it?’

‘I’m not making an issue. I’m making conversation.’

‘Weird sort of conversation, isn’t it?’ Nathan paused and waited till she was looking at him. ‘Your tone sounds more like you’re suspicious than making conversation.’

After a long pause, she responded. ‘Forget it. I’m tired. Sorry I mentioned it.’

She felt he was being defensive and tried to ignore his stare as she set out two glasses beside the bottle of semillon that he’d brought with him. She poured some into the glasses then took hers towards the window and looked out.

‘What’s so unusual about me talking to someone in the street?’

‘It’s just that you never talk about your friends and that greeting was, I dunno, it looked more than a business greeting. The hug was more enthusiastic than any I ever get.’ Ursula felt herself choking up. ‘Ok, so I’m jealous, let’s just leave it.’

‘No, I think we should get it sorted. That person was Julian Rhodes. He’s been after me for some time to come and work for his firm. I’m interested in his offer and I can’t very well meet him at the office, can I.’

‘And were you ever going to discuss it with me? I’m your wife, remember. We’re supposed to talk these things over.’ Ursula shrugged once the words were out and leaned back against the window frame. Behind her was a magnificent view of Central Park if you looked down from their fifth floor apartment.

Nathan joined her at the window and looked out.

‘You never tell me anything about your work. What do you expect me to think when I see you enjoying the company of someone, a man at that?’

‘Did you happen to notice his wife standing next to him?’

‘No, why would I, there were lots of other people walking by.’

‘And yet you saw me amongst them.’

‘Let’s drop it, Nathan. I don’t want to start another fight.’

‘Alright. How about we go somewhere for a meal then?’

‘Not tonight. I’m in a mood, and I’m not likely to be much company. I think I’ll go to bed, in the spare room.’

This was becoming the pattern of their lives, and more so in the past few months. Any semblance of romance no longer existed, and they’d drifted further and further apart, but she was still shocked when the next day he proposed taking a break from each other. He moved out that weekend.

They stayed in contact, but never got back together. Some months after they divorced Nathan moved back to Perth and established his own architecture and design business there.

Ursula chose to remain living in New York and eventually moved into the more affordable apartment with Alice Marchant.

She missed Nathan, but not the arguments. She tried to shake it off by joining a dating site, but no-one managed to re-produce that excitement that she’d felt with him. She was caught in limbo and it would take a massive change to shake it off. Going back to her roots seemed a good starting point. Maybe she could reprogram her life’s journey that way.

Ursula now had four days leave. She had just finished the worst of the shifts, which comprised twelve - fourteen hours, for seven days straight, on the flights between New York and London and two other major European cities.

Her knees and hips were stiff and sore, in fact the entire lower half of her body ached. It would take almost two days before her feet could fit back into her high heels. She’d started on strong pain medication and heat packs for the first twenty four hours of being home, and after that those tender areas normally settled down. She found this regime worked for her and saved her from graduating to stronger drugs.

On this break she had no scheduled appointments or dates, so it was going to be a time of reflection; of making decisions on how much longer she would put up with it.

Chapter Two

CANBERRA, AUSTRALIA

September 2009

It had been a dry winter around the south-east corner of the country, primarily the area bordering South Australia, Victoria and New South Wales. The warming spring weather forecasts were unlikely to improve the outlook, and the conditions were set to worsen. The whole countryside was now tinder dry, and the authorities were on high alert for fire outbreaks.

The grasses had withered, and the trees had discarded their dead leaves and bark; all the warning signs for an early start to the fire season were there. Already one or two smaller outbreaks, which were attributed to vandals, had been quickly contained, but storms and lightning bolts discharging were unpredictable. Each state was preparing for a long and dangerous season.

When a fierce fire took hold in the Red Hill State Forest near Canberra, an urgent call went out for additional help. The scene was dense with smoke and the arrival of hot winds to fan the fire quickly had it out of control. The local ground teams fought it valiantly as they waited for reinforcements to come. The quickest method of putting the blaze out was for fire fighting aircraft to drop water from the air and Mike Turner’s team from the Country Fire Service were deployed to the region with their water bombers.

On the second day of the mission Mike struck trouble. He had taken off from the water dam with his heavily laden helicopter, and was en route to the fire front when he heard an explosive thump come from the engine. It began shuddering almost immediately, followed by a burning oil smell, then black smoke billowed into the cockpit. His disaster training kicked in immediately, but he had to try to push aside the fear and terror that was his first impulse. Seconds later he came to his senses and alerted the base, then looked down at the ground to see if he could manoeuvre anywhere for a safe landing.

In the swirling windy conditions he was struggling to do anything with his out-of-control machine. The instruments on the dash were going wild and despite all his efforts to stabilise it he couldn’t rein it in. Fortunately an updraft that was whirling around from a north eastern direction caught him and pushed him away from burning trees. He only had moments to feel thankful as his chopper was going down fast, and it began to roar in agony as it plummeted down. The rotors were slicing through the tree branches as his craft upended, and nothing could stop him crash landing. On impact with the ground his head hit the steel door frame, causing him to black out.

When he came to minutes later he struggled to breathe, and the pain around his ribs when he had to cough was unbearable. Surrounded by a thick cloud of dust and with smoke invading his airways he felt himself choking. He was helpless and pinned to his seat by the damaged catch on the seatbelt. He knew he was badly injured when he was unable to move his arm to free himself.

He had no idea how long it took for help to arrive, but on hearing voices and vehicles approach he felt a surge of relief and oblivion came again. It was only the pain of being hauled out of his wrecked Firebird 200 that brought consciousness back. It felt as though his entire body was wrapped in searing pain and was begging the paramedics not to touch him or try to move him.

‘Mike, can you hear me? I’m Dr James Fox-Fullwood.’

His words sounded garbled but Mike could make out the man was speaking a posh version of the Queen’s proper english.

‘You’ve had a bad crash, but you were lucky. The tank of water you were carrying saved it bursting into flames. Some good news is that you have no burns, but you have several bad fractures on your right side and rather a lot of traumas to your upper body. Are you hearing me, Mike?’

Mike nodded.

‘We’ve dosed you up on morphine and we’ll airlift you to the Canberra State Hospital. Is there anyone we can contact for you?’

He tried to say his father’s name, but it didn’t come out very clearly. He heard voices talking around him, and just before he blacked out again he heard someone say they would contact the emergency services.

Mike’s next memories were of lying on a hard bed and a huge bright light was belting out its rays at him. In his confusion he thought he was still in the wreckage of his helicopter and started thrashing around. Strong hands held him down and a hypodermic needle went into his arm. He felt the softness of oblivion invade his body and all the angst and pain subsided. In the abyss his mind drifted away into memories of the past.

It was the end-of-year ball and the school band was about to start on a waltz. He belonged in the band, playing the guitar. He had finished his scheduled three numbers and was stepping down off the stage to pack his instrument away. He had promised the waltz to Stella McDermott, but he knew in his heart he would rather have been doing all the dances with Ursula Morgan. He looked around the room to see where Stella was and spotted Ursula being led onto the dance floor by Mr Parnell, the history teacher that no-one liked.

In his line of sight was Marc Mason and one of his mates, Eggy. He saw them pointing at the dancing pair and snickering, and next they started imitating them, because Mr Parnell had a limp. Mike didn’t like that sort of behaviour, but when another two boys joined in the laughing got louder. He dropped his guitar on its unopened case and raced up to them.

He pushed at Marc’s chest, causing him to stumble backwards. Naturally it angered Marc and as he made to retaliate his mate decided to help him out by pushing at Mike, and soon punches were thrown. A brawl erupted, with others joining in and Mike found himself ordered out of the ball, along with Marc, Eggy and the three other boys.

Marc stepped back and glowered. ‘You stupid fuck-wit, Turner. You’re all gooey over Ursy Morgy aren’t you.’ He was taunting and pulling a face as he spoke.

‘Shut up, you creep. Shut up or I swear…’ said Mike. He glared at his adversaries and raised his fists in a threatening manner. Before a fight could erupt again some teachers and parents came forward, surrounded the boys and broke it up. The headmaster was called for.

‘Go and stand outside by the front of the hall, you louts. We’re calling your parents. And if we find any of you have been drinking there’ll be suspensions. You ought to be ashamed of yourselves.’ The headmaster was fuming.

The dream faded, and the blackness returned.

His next lucid thoughts were when he asked Ursula if he could take her to a movie. It was a week after the fight and Kindergarten Cop was showing at the cinema. It was newly released, and was popular amongst the kids.

She declined, and he was gutted and embarrassed. He ended up never getting to see the movie, and in fact, never got another chance to ask Ursula out. The movie would always remind him of that rejection, and he could never figure Ursula out. She seemed strangely disconnected from the other kids. If she wasn’t hanging out with Stella and her cousin Linda, she would be studying in the school library.

The dream vanished as he heard voices and could make out his name being said. Someone had hold of his hand and was squeezing it. He imagined for a few seconds it was Ursula, but the voice sounded too harsh.

‘Mike Turner? Can you hear me? Open your eyes, Mike. You’re in the hospital.’

‘Who are you? What happened to me,’ he mumbled. He could see four people surrounding his bed.

‘I’m Dr Sanchez and you’re in the Canberra Hospital. You’re here because your chopper went down and you’ve suffered a lot of traumas. How are you feeling?’

‘Terrible. Why is my head hurting so much?’ His hand wanted to soothe it, but someone prevented him from doing it.

‘Let me go,’ he moaned, trying to free his hand.

‘Don’t panic, Mike. We’ll get your head sorted as well as the rest of you. We’ll up the medication a bit more now that we know you’re able to communicate with us. For now, try to stay calm.’

That was the last he heard of that conversation. It must have been many hours before he was woken again by a nurse.

‘Mr Turner, someone is here to see you.’

Mike kept his eyes closed and wasn’t in the mood for visitors. ‘Send them away. I don’t want to see anyone.’

‘It’s your parents. They’ve been here for quite a while, worrying about you. Come on, be nice.’

He took in a slow breath and looked up when he heard footsteps approach his bed.

‘Mike, it’s us, just Dom and me, we’re so grateful that you’re alive.’

He felt bad when he saw the concern on their faces. His father stood at the end of the bed while Colleen was bent over him at the side. She was wiping his face with a tissue. He pushed her hand away, still irritable.

‘Mum, what are you doing here?’ He tried to sit up, but a sharp stab of pain from his neck stopped him and it seemed to travel all the way down to his feet.

‘We had to see that you were going to be ok.’

‘Of course I’m going to be ok, so don’t make a fuss. I don’t want to see you hovering over me getting upset.’

He saw her wiping