Annaldra
Chapter 9

Walking to the hotel, Finley was troubled. What had come over him last night? How could he do that to his wife, to his family, his lovely, wonderful family? They meant the world to him, but deep inside he knew, he knew exactly how. He never had felt a desire like it. Annaldra was like a drug. She was his heroin, he had to have her, and nothing else mattered. He wanted her more than he had ever wanted anything and he knew he would not resist her if he had the opportunity again. She felt like a part of him. All his life he had sensed there was something missing, something big, and now he knew it was her. It was not God or Elaine and it was not children. It was Annaldra. Why had he thought God was the answer to his emptiness? Was his chosen path a sham? Yes, he loved God, yes, he loved his family, but he loved Annaldra more… much more.

‘Afternoon, Finley, what can I get you, the usual?’ The old barman smiled and looked up from the glass he was drying.

‘No, better make it a half pint, Sam. It’s too early for me.’ sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ Find_Nøvel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

Sam pulled on the handle, slowly releasing the golden liquid into the glass. ‘That’s good news about Donald and Ann, don’t you think? It’s time he moved on from Annabelle.’ He glanced between the beer pump and Finley as he spoke. ‘Let’s hope she helps him get his life back together now he’s on the straight and narrow.’

Finley’s blood ran cold, turning him to ice. ‘Sorry what news?’ he eventually asked, but inside was dreading the answer.

Murdo slid his pint over, moving beside him. ‘Aye, they’re an item now,’ he gave a half-cocked nod. ‘I saw it with me own eyes. Yesterday she was at his caravan, naked she was in his arms. Me and the lad were passing, he saw it too.’ Murdo winked at Malcolm and Malcolm raised his glass at Finley and tipped his cap, confirming he had also seen it.

Finley could feel his blood pressure rising. ‘No, that can’t be right,’ he said, trying not sound agitated. ‘They are just good friends.’

‘Well, they have been spending a lot of time together and they are both good lookers. It was bound to happen sooner, or later.’

‘Lucky bastard,’ the fisherman at the end of the bar chirped in.

‘I would-nae kick a looker like her oot ma bed.’ Murdo sighed, ‘Ah, if only I was twenty years younger.’

‘Forty more like,’ sniggered Malcolm.

Finley shook his head. ‘I think you’re wrong. You must be mistaken.’

‘Nae way,’ Malcolm shook his head decidedly. ’She had nothing on and he was holding her and stroking her hair. I ken what I saw, and they are way more than friends I tell you.’

‘Sorry, I’ve just remembered something. I have to go,’ Finley said turning to leave.

‘What about your beer?’ the barman called after him, but he was gone.

With rage consuming him like wildfire, Finley marched through the reception and upstairs to Ann’s room. What the hell, was she playing at? How could she do that to him when she was with someone else? He had been foolish enough to believe he was her first. How bloody naïve. She was probably sleeping with everyone. He had cheated on Elaine; he had put his family life at risk; he could lose his daughter and his job, and for what? For a selfish wee slut who does not care who she hurts!

Thumping violently on the door with his fists, he could hear her inside.

‘Wh-who is it?’

‘It’s me, Finley! Let me in!’ He held his tongue just in time to stop the vile profanity he was about to call her coming out. He reminded himself he was a minister, but at that moment, he could not feel further from it.

Ann opened the door, her eyes wide with concern. ‘What is it, what’s wrong?’ She stepped aside allowing him space to enter.

Finley marched past her into the room. ‘What’s wrong, what’s wrong? I’ll tell you what’s bloody wrong!’ he hissed at her. ‘It’s what’s happened last night that’s wrong! How could you do that to me, Annaldra? How could you?’

‘I’m sorry, I know it shouldn’t have happened, but I couldn’t help myself. I should have resisted, but it’s because…’ She stopped mid-sentence, looking apprehensive about what she was going to say.

‘Because of what, eh? Because you are nothing but a whore!’ he spat venomously, finishing her sentence.

‘No.’ Tears brimmed in her eyes. She took a deep breath and swallowed. ‘It’s because… it’s because I love you.’ There, she had said it.

He straightened himself and narrowed his eyes to slits as he eyed her up and down, his expression a mixture of confusion and repugnance. ‘You love me?’ he snorted. ‘You don’t even know me! What about you and Donald?’

’What about me and Donald?’She took a step towards him, her hand outstretched wanting to reassure him, but he flinched, jerking his arm back as though she were a leper. His reaction stopped her in her tracks. Hurt, she retracted her hand. ‘Why would you even say that? We are good friends. I told you last night,’ she spoke fast, sounding desperate. ‘Please, Finley…’

’Is that what you call it, good friends? Everyone in the bar is talking about the two of you. Murdo and Malcolm saw the pair of you in his caravan. You were naked, Annaldra, naked!’He shook his head in disgust before lowering his voice to an angry whisper. ‘Can you explain that?’

Watching her face, he knew it was true.

‘It’s not what you think. I was—’

‘Enough!’ he barked waving his hand dismissively. ‘Keep away from me and my family!’ and with that he turned and left, slamming the door with such force it made the upper landing shake. Annaldra had shattered his world again, only this time it was her fault.

Finley’s words had torn through her chest and grabbed her heart, crushing it like tissue paper in his fist. She needed to get out, out of the claustrophobic hotel room and into the fresh air where she could breathe, clear her mind and think. With tears welling in her eyes, she headed for the beach. How could Finley be so cruel and think that about her? If only she could explain, but it would be impossible; nobody would believe the truth. I had a shower in Donald’s caravan because I got shot when I’d been a wolf and ran there for help. She knew it was a helpless situation, but perhaps it was for the best. He was married with a beautiful baby and it was wrong of her to put that in jeopardy. Who knows, perhaps if he knew who I once was, who we had been, he would not feel the same. Perhaps he met someone else after Eleanora died, someone whom he loved just as much. Perhaps Elaine was his Siamese twin.

Sitting on Maidens Rock, she knew she did not have the answers. Focus. I have to forget him. I have a task to do. I should be thinking about the spell, not him. Filling her lungs with the salty sea air, she wiped away her tears. The air here was as fresh and pure as the Greenland air, and seemed to have a cleansing effect, unlike the suffocating toxic air of London. She had never understood those who choose to live in such a polluted atmosphere, but here each breath, when inhaled deep and slowly, was like a detox, not only for the body, but also for the soul.

‘A penny for your thoughts?’

Ann glanced over her shoulder. It was Donald standing awkwardly behind her, hands deep in his jeans pockets as though unsure whether to sit with her.

She wiped her cheeks again, hoping he had not noticed she had been crying. ‘Did you know we are the talk of the town?’

Donald looked confused. ‘Why?’

‘We are apparently together. Murdo and Malcolm saw us together in your caravan yesterday and jumped to the wrong conclusion. Everyone in the hotel bar is talking about us.’

‘Ah, that’s a small village for you. They need gossip. It’s what glues the community together,’ Donald replied with a cheeky smirk obviously finding the situation amusing.

She smiled, letting everyone believe the gossip was one way to ensure it would never happen again, especially if Finley believed it. Donald sat on the rock beside her and the pair of them stared out to sea. It was a calm day, bright and crisp, with hardly a cloud in sight, perfect weather for October; it reminded her of a hot midsummer’s day in Greenland.

Ann breathed deeply, listening to and in time with the waves. Inhaling slowly through her nose as the tide retreated, then out through her mouth when the waves gently lapped the shore, each time laying a blanket of white foam across the pale sand. She watched the bubbles glistening in the sand until the last one dissolved in the sun, only to be renewed moments later; each small, rhythmic wave an incantation, sinking her deeper into reverie. It was not long before she felt content, her trouble with Finley and the village gossips gone, washed away by the mighty ocean. Sea meditation was perfect therapy.

‘You know this rock is where Annabelle and I used to sit in the evening watching the sunsets, usually with a bottle of wine. Some nights, if the moon was full, we would stay long after midnight, the moon and stars lighting our path home.’ Donald had a distant look in his eyes, both fond and sad as he recalled those evenings.

Ann waited for him to continue but he did not. ‘You know you shouldn’t blame yourself,’ she said, breaking the silence and putting her arm over his shoulder.

Donald turned to look at her. Her statement had brought him back from his musing as his expression had changed to one of confusion, and not a pleased one at that.

‘I know you blame yourself for Annabelle’s death. Padraig told me. He said it’s because you got a flat tyre and you were late picking her up, but—’

‘You know nothing,’ Donald interrupted, his face turning angry red. ‘Nobody knows, I’ve never told anyone!’

‘I’m sorry,’ she said removing her arm from his back.

Donald’s face softened, ‘No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap…It is just everyone thinks they know, but they don’t. They are right though, I do blame myself, but it’s not because I got a flat tyre, it’s because…’ he paused as if unsure whether or not to continue. ‘It’s because we argued.’

‘But everyone argues. It’s natural,’ she said, to reassure him. Then she thought about Swain and Eleanora. How they had never argued, well, not until today that was, and even then it was not strictly an argument. He was just angry with her because of a misunderstanding. If she could explain who they were, she was sure he would trust her and believe her, but that was something she could never do. Well, not unless she wanted him to think she was mad.

‘We didn’t, well not like this. This was a blazing row… a blazing row about her going shopping that morning… bloody shopping!’ Donald’s head dropped, and he rubbed his eyes as though re-living the feelings of despair. ‘Annabelle was working a back shift, so she didn’t start work until two. I had arranged for us to have lunch with my granny assuming she would come because she always did. My granny hadn’t been well, so it was important, but she insisted she was going shopping. Annabelle hated shopping, so I couldn’t understand why she had to go that morning when we could both go later in the week. Nothing could persuade her to change her mind… nothing… so I got suspicious. I was sure she was hiding something.’ Donald paused again, the pain of remembering written on his face. ‘Anyway, I was so incensed and the last thing I said to her was unforgivable.’

Ann rubbed his back, sensing the difficulty he was having continuing.

‘I—I accused her of seeing someone else.’ He clenched his eyes as he inhaled a long deep breath through his nose. When he opened them again, they were red rimmed. ’I will never forget the hurt look on her face as she left that morning. That was the last time I saw her alive.’

Ann put both arms around Donald and laid her head on his shoulder. She desperately wanted to tell him about Swain and Eleanora. How their love was eternal, how death had not kept them apart. If their love was strong enough, somehow, their souls would find each other again like a magnetic force attracting them across space and time, but instead she sighed and said nothing.

After a while Donald continued. ‘I was late picking her up lots of times and she always waited, knowing I would come. I always did, but that day she thought I wouldn’t. When I wasn’t there on time, she headed for the bus, but instead of going to the bus station, she headed out of town to the stop that’s ten minutes’ walk away. She probably thought it would be best because if I were coming for her I would pass that stop, but it is a country road so there are no pavements and it’s dark. That’s where it happened, where the car hit her. That’s where she died.’ Donald dropped his head and let out a long laborious sigh, ‘She should not have died though. If the bastard in the car had stopped and helped her, she would have lived. She bled to death, and the worst of it was, I drove past her twice, once on the way to pick her up and again on my way back to the village. I may have been able to save her. She may even have seen me passing. She was conscious after the accident you know. She managed to drag herself off the road and onto the grassy verge at the side so she would have known she was dying, thinking I thought so badly of her,’ he said, rubbing his eyes. ‘They never caught the bastard either.’

A shudder ran down Ann’s spine as she imagined Annabelle’s final conscious moments: alone, cold and afraid, in pain and worst of all her broken heart.

‘No one knew, until the next morning when the sun rose. That’s when someone found her, and I… I sat up all night raging, imagining she was with someone else as she lay dying.’ Donald’s voice was breaking up. ‘I didn’t even report her missing.’

Ann took Donald’s hand as they both stared out towards a small fishing boat on the horizon. She hoped he did not see the tears in her eyes.

‘A week after she died a letter arrived for her from the hospital. The morning we argued, she was going for tests on a lump she had found under her arm. She lied about the shopping to protect me. She didn’t want me to worry so hadn’t told me and I accused her of…’ he shook his head unable to finish the sentence. ‘I sometimes tell myself the driver did her a favour. Maybe, just maybe, he saved her from a slow painful death… The tests were positive, Annabelle had cancer.’

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