"Hello?" said an unfamiliar, hostile female voice. I pushed button A. The coins dropped and clanked into the collection box. I asked to speak to Natalie. There came hurried whispered words. I could make out none of them because of rain beating against the telephone box window glass. A scuffle sounded at the other end of the line. "Hello, who is that?" said another female voice I also did not recognise.

     "It's Alan," I said. More whispering, louder this time, disconcerted breathing. Then someone shouting, cursing. The phone crackled. There came a thump as though the phone dropped and struck a hard surface. "This is Alan Dibley. Is that you, Natalie?"

     "Yes - sorry about that, Alan."

     Her voice send ripples down my spine. "Why didn't you come this afternoon? Did you lose your way?" She said no, there had been a change of plan. Something had occurred within her family circle to prevent her coming. I said I hoped it was nothing serious. Voices rose in the background. Another crash - it could have been the slamming of a door. I heard a voice say, "to hell with you then," followed by another  crash.

     Natalie came back on the line, her tone troubled, and upset. "Can we meet?"

     "Sure - when?"

     "Can you come into town now?"

     "What - right now?"

     "Yes."

     I checked my wristwatch. It showed a quarter to midnight - and Natalie wanted me to travel to Shefton! Although Laura was at home and in bed, she might be awake and wondering why I wasn't with her. What the hell should I do? Natalie must have sensed my indecision. "Please come, Alan. I have to talk to you."

     That did it. "Okay - where shall I see you?"

     "At the Golden Dragon. It's open until one o'clock. They know me there. I'm sure I can get us a table."

     "I'm on my way," I said, and hung up.

                                                          ***

Driving from Shatley into Shefton city centre takes around twenty minutes. I put my foot down and got there in twelve. I couldn't figure out why Natalie wanted us to meet. I remembered Terry Bonsall at Cheadles talking of Schaeffer Hall. He'd said it was just past Leskam on the East Coast Road. And, Mickey Davis had warned me to stay away from Natalie. I frowned at myself in the driving mirror. What the damn did they mean? Mickey appeared amazed that I had not heard of the Schaeffer family. However, I had to admit that I had heard the name somewhere - but I could not bring to mind why it should mean anything to me.

     I parked down a narrow cobbled side street adjacent to Lattice Row. The Dragon had an Oriental bouncer just inside the door. He was about half my size. There has never been anything threatening about my appearance and he grinned, gave a signal, and Mr Ti came smiling, his hand extended for a handshake. "Ah, Mr Dibley, we have a table for you. Come with me, please." I followed him the length of the cafe. Natalie was sitting at a table for two. Mr Ti snapped a finger and thumb and a server brought two large cups and a carafe of coffee. I removed my coat, draped it on the chair back.

     She poured coffee. It was heavily fragrant. "It's good of you to come."

     "So what's the problem?"

     She waited until we had both tasted coffee. "It's John, my brother. Well, it's not just him, it involves Angela, you see - and Iris."

     I shook my head. "I'm not with you." The Dragon's soft decor has a soothing effect on you. The gentle hum of chatting clientele helps you unwind. But I couldn't relax, having driven a dozen dangerous miles. Driving like a bloody madman; cutting corners; drenching pedestrians with rainwater; bringing crossing traffic to a halt; driving through one red light and barely missing a lorry traveling across me. Only when I had reached inner Shefton had I slowed to a sensible speed. But right now I wasn't relaxed. It must have shown on my face for Natalie commented on it. "I rushed here because I thought you were in trouble," I said. "Why didn't you show at the game. I really missed you."

     She smoothed away a stray hair at her temple. "Angela stopped me. She tries chaperoning me. Usually I don't bother about it - but this time it's different."

     "How does she concern us?"

     "She thinks you are not good enough for me."

     I had to smile at that. "Maybe I'm not. But what's it to do with her anyway?"

     Natalie sipped more coffee. "Angela is four years older than I am - she is what you call an overprotective sister."

     "But how did that stop you getting to Bulling Street?"

     "I have a car. Angela and I share it. When she knew I had arranged to see you, she took the car and drove it around Shefton so I couldn't use it. That's her way of doing things. I suppose I could have taken a taxi, but I was rather put out by it all." Her left hand reached across the table and rested on top of my right hand. "I do want to see you again - regardless of what my family might say."

     I know very well that feeling of wanting someone who is out of reach. Maybe it's common in most of us. You know the right path to take but sometimes you refuse the obvious road. I was falling heavily for this girl, and falling for her was not a smart thing to do. I had a choice: either ditch Natalie - or leave Laura. Both options depressed me. If I told Natalie that I was married, I would lose her. I wouldn't see this incredibly beautiful face again, nor her sylphlike movements. She had sophistication, she had style. Without her - what would I have left? I would still have Laura. A lovely girl by temperament and appearance, that's who I would have. And I would have Edwina, my lovely daughter. It was my fault that Laura had recently become irritable, and at times irrational. With her dark hair, and brown eyes set in an oval face, she had a beauty that everyone admired. I adored her. So why was I constantly checking out other females? Simple: I'm a stupid bloody chancer who can't stay away from a pretty face. I have this spark of exhilaration when chasing the girls and I can't overcome it. One day, maybe soon, I will pay for it. I gripped her hand gently. "You mentioned your brother earlier."

     Apprehension showed on her face. "Yes, John. He's really the problem."

     "Why is he?"

     Natalie studied me. I could read many types of future in them. "The Schaeffer family name means a lot to him." She stopped, shook her head, changed direction. "I'd love to see you later today."

     That landed me with another problem, for with me starting a late shift on Monday, I had promised Laura we would spend Sunday together. In fact I had suggested to her a drive in the country - if the weather was reasonable. "I want to see you," I said, "but I've promised friends I'll spend the day with them."

     She squeezed my hand. "We could meet here tonight. Say eight o'clock?" She squeezed my hand again. "Please."

     That suggestion gave me an idea. If I gave Laura a good day, I could probably slide off later without her complaining. "Okay," I said, "eight o'clock it is." I ensured Natalie knew I was working late from Monday to Friday night inclusive. I could telephone her on Friday night I said, to confirm if I were playing football, and if so, where the match was being played.

     She agreed to that, then said, "Maybe I can phone you during the week after you've finished work."

     For some weird reason I hadn't thought of that possibility. "I don't have a phone at home," I said, hoping she wouldn't check the telephone directory. It so happened that each time I had spoken to her by phone I had called away from home. Then I thought of the works phone in Dingle's office. For the week on night shift with Labourer Bill, the company were putting through a line from the office switchboard in case of emergency. I suggested that I telephone her during Tuesday evening before I went home. Say about nine o'clock? She agreed to me doing that.

     We each drank a second coffee. I would have settled the small bill but she said that had been taken care of. I donned my coat. She picked hers up at Reception. We said goodnight to Mr Ti. The early morning coldness nipped my face. Lattice Row is one of those narrow thoroughfares that attracts cold, draughty air currents - even in summertime. I left her outside her flat and watched her go in.

     Most Novembers in Shefton are damp and miserable. That's how I was feeling walking back to my car without her. The drive to Shatley was utterly lonely and when I reached home there were no lights showing. Entering quietly by the front door I went to the kitchen, found a couple of Aspirin tablets, took them with water and went upstairs. Laura was asleep. It took me ages to fade into troubled slumber.

                                                          ***

Hangovers don't take time out on Sundays. When I awoke my head was spinning. The bedroom curtains were open and I thought the tree outside our window was growing sideways - but that's the view you get when you're hanging out of bed with your head touching the carpet. Talk about a stiff neck! I sat up. Laura was downstairs. The radio was on and the smell of sizzling bacon wafted through the open bedroom door. My head throbbed. My pyjama cord had worked its way round to my left hip and its knotted imprint showed angry red on my skin. I scratched the bruise. Laura came in carrying Edwina. "Oh, you are awake then? Where did you get to last night? Or should I say this morning?" She put Edwina into my arms.

     "I had car trouble again," I said, my voice croaking. "It packed up at the bottom of Belford Road."

     Laura straightened the curtains. She looked cool and beautiful - even after a late night out. "It's amazing how that car packs up at the right moment, isn't it?" She smiled impishly at me. "Come on, hurry up, breakfast is nearly ready. And get some clothes on. I don't want you frightening the neighbours."

     I stood up. The room swayed. Laura took Edwina from me. It's a good job she did for I had to sit down again to steady my head. I had a quick wash, changed into clean clothing and went downstairs. Laura must have been up early for the coal fire was throwing out plenty of heat. My head was becoming clearer. I buttered a slice of toast and bit into it. We were at breakfast when Laura said, "There was something odd about last night. Couldn't understand what it was...but I didn't feel right." She studied me, her brown eyes showing varied emotions. "Did you get that feeling? You know, an incident that others understand but you don't?" I opened my mouth to speak but she added quickly, "Tony Ross started it when he came to our table. He asked were you feeling okay after your football match. Then he hung his arm round my neck and said I should keep an eye on you because you're too good-looking to trust, although I knew really he was looking down my front. Ugh! That man makes me shudder."

     "Tony's like that, Laura. He says one thing when he means another. But he's harmless really."

     Laura shot me a disbelieving glance. "Then there was the Davis fellow. What do you call him - Mickey? He said I was lucky to have you as my husband. But I knew he didn't mean what he had said. I could see it in his eyes. He looked at you as though...oh, as though there was something between you and him that I didn't know about."

     "Forget about it," I said. "They were boozed up to the eyebrows. Let's go for a drive in the country."

     She finished off a sausage. "Where to?"

     "Somewhere special."

     "But what if the car breaks down?"

     I shrugged. It was becoming a habit. "Look, the weather seems like it will hold. We can risk it with the car."

     "Okay, I'll get Edwina ready."

                                                             ***

I drove under the railway bridge, past the Cheadles premises, over the river and across another set of rail lines then up twisting Reap Lane for about a mile, then turned onto the East Coast Road. Laura asked why we were traveling this way. No reason in particular, I said. She wanted a car ride - so she was getting one. Twenty minutes later we reached Leskam village, a typical rural setting of whitewashed houses built in the 1700's and surrounded by oak trees. Tony Bonsall had said, Schaeffer Hall, two miles through Leskam. The Hall's on the right-hand side. |You can't miss it. The countryside round here is flat. Normally you can see for miles. But not today. A faint mist had dogged us most of the trip, but as we passed a slight rise of the ground the mist cleared slightly. We came to lines of Lawson Cypress along each side of the straight road. There was no missing the hall, for a sign hanging from chains between trees, said, Schaeffer Hall. Private. I pulled up to take a look.

     "Why have we stopped here?" said Laura.

     I smiled and said I was buying the property. The Hall was standing two hundred yards from the road, set back among masses of oak and sycamore. Somehow, it looked sinister in the strands of mist hovering nearby. I counted sixteen windows at the front of the hall. Edwina bounced around on the back seat, slapping the car window. Laura picked her up. We got out, stood by a fence, and took in the view.

     "Who would want to live in a place as big as that?" Laura said.

     "I don't know. Maybe it's some Duke or Earl, or somebody like that."

     The afternoon air was turning chill. I picked up Edwina and sat her on the fence. I pointed to the hall. "That is Schaeffer Hall," I said.

     "Ssschhhafll," said Edwina.

                                                        ***

As we started for home, Laura said she had heard the word Schaeffer before. Quite recently too, but she couldn't recall when. I went off at a tangent and said we were getting low on petrol. I cursed myself for being stupid enough to come here. What did I expect to see? Natalie dancing in the grounds? Dusk edged in as I drove back down Reap Lane. A train clanked along the valley, shunting wagons into a siding.

     When we arrived home I stoked the fire and sat with Edwina on my lap while Laura prepared a meal. After we had cleared up and washed the pots I carried a tired Edwina upstairs and lay her to bed, covered her, kissed her cheek, and moved away to go downstairs. She sat up, said, 'Ssschhhfll', then lay down. I ensured she was comfortable.

     Laura had the telly on when I went downstairs. The mantle shelf clock showed six-fifteen. "Mind if I go for a pint, love?"

     She moved over on the sofa, inviting me to sit with her. "Yes, I do mind. Sit here with me. I won't see you for most of next week. But if you're going out, I'll come with you."

 I thought of another excuse. "Some of the lads at the Horse are starting a football team. We could play on that piece of land this side of the river. They're holding a meeting tonight at Tony Ross's place."

     That put Laura right off. She held out her arms to me. "Is football and boozing all you think about? You haven't played for two years and suddenly you're interested again." She pulled me down to her. "Why start a football team? You're playing for one already."

     "Yeah, but this is a local team, Laura. Nick Lewis suggested it the other day. Says he's willing to supply a new kit. Of course we'll only play friendlies this season, but that gives us time to sort things out." Laura wavered. I kept talking. It worked. She said she was tired. I said well stay in and rest. I wouldn't be away for too long.

     "Promise?" she said.

     I used my Shatley Liar inbuilt facility - and said, yes. Then I drove off toward Shefton - and Natalie.