Loneliness Trilogy Bundle Boxset (41 page)

We all nod.

“I don’t know if I’ll be arresting her or not. That depends on my supervisor’s decision. I want you to contact me at any time if something else happens.”

“We will. Thank you,” Marcus says.

After the officer leaves, our parents do, too. Marcus and I bathe Lizzie and put her in bed. Downstairs, we sit cuddled with each other, just trying to take in what has happened this evening. Several minutes later, insistent honking begins at the back gate again.

“Oh, my God! It’s dark! Where is her sense of compassion for our neighbors?” I cry out.

“Let me talk to her. You stay in here…I do not want you anywhere near her!” Marcus orders as he walks outside.

A few minutes later, he is back inside, shaking his head.

“My God, I can’t believe it! She was angry because we sent the police round her house! I told her she had threatened you and, yes, we called the police. Obviously, they didn’t arrest her. Instead, they issued a warning to her, telling her to stay away from our house, you and Lizzie. And, because she came out here against their direction, I’ve called them again, just to make a report. Johanna, you’re to stay out of this - I am going to make this situation very uncomfortable for Millie - as hard as she pushes at us, I will push back at her. I just want her to leave you the ‘ell alone,” Marcus says.

“Did she see you calling the police?”

“Better than that - she heard me talking to them, filing my report. No more officers will be out tonight, unless we need them. Oh, and I told her that if she leans on her car horn like that again, I’ll let our neighbors have at her. She left. But expect her to be back.”

My sleep is broken by nightmares. When I wake up, I am sleepy. Thankfully, it’s a weekend, so I sleep in.

Marcus gets up with Lizzie and gets breakfast for her. He brings her into our room after breakfast and I feel small, sticky hands patting at my face.

I smile, opening my eyes. I see a round face, sticky with syrup, over my face. Lizzie’s hair is tangled and badly needs a comb. Looking at the bedside clock, I gasp - it’s after 10 in the morning!

“Marcus, why didn’t you get me up?”

“You needed your sleep. I could feel you tossing and turning for most of the night. I heard you talking in what passed for your sleep. Last night really…affected you. You needed the rest, baby. Besides, it gave me time with my little girl. We had a daddy and daughter breakfast,” says Marcus.

“And is there a ‘daddy and daughter’ mess downstairs that only mummy can clean up?” I ask.

“Well…”

“Well, nothing, luv. I’m up, now. I’ll clean her up and put the kitchen to rights. Do you have work to do?”

“One article that will probably take three or four hours for me to complete. It’s due by Monday.”

Later that afternoon, we’re playing outside when thick, heavy clouds roll over, hiding the bright blue sky and warm sun. I feel the temperature dropping by the minute, so I grab Lizzie as Marcus grabs the toys and blanket.

“Cold, mummy!”

“Yes, it got cold. We’ll have to stay inside for the rest of the day. If it rains, you can watch the drops hitting the ground,” I tell Lizzie.

Inside, we do, indeed watch as the rain drops begin smacking the ground. It rains hard and blows for most of the day. Inside, the dim light requires that I turn on the lights earlier than usual. I decide to work on breathing and vocal exercises, since we’re now stuck inside by this rain storm.

Shortly before it gets dark, Millie comes round the house. As per her usual habit, she leans on the horn.

“Marcus, don’t go out, but be ready to call the police,” I say. I guess my restless night and imagination must have given me some ideas of how to deal with my recalcitrant sister-in-law.

“Wasn’t. I’m just going to watch from the kitchen window and see how many of our neighbors - assail her. Oh! That’s one, and here comes a second. Nothing like the law of logical consequences!”

I join him at the window after ensuring myself that Lizzie is completely occupied by her toys. I see Millie’s car surrounded by four, now five neighbors! None of whom are happy. One of the guys rings us.

“Hullo?”

“Hey, Hadley. Is this the joker you told us about?”

“The very one. Go ahead and have at her. Nothing I’ve said to her has sunk in. I figure the law of logical consequences might convince her to stop leaning on her horn,” Marcus says.

I look at Marcus and grin - I feel comforted by the power of numbers! After this, I am willing to stake a very solid claim that this will be the last time Millie Smythe pulls this particular stunt! Looking back out, I see four men bent over and peering into Millie’s car and yelling at her. I have to squint to look at her face - but what I see is comical! Her facial expression ranges from anger to rage, to…is that fear?

“Marcus, come take a look. Is she afraid?”

“Hah! If she isn’t, she should rightfully be!” Marcus laughs after he speaks. He wraps his arms around me, with this thumbs grazing the undersides of my breasts.

I lean against him and I feel his cock, standing against my back. I feel a slow, spreading warmth inside. Leaning against my husband this way, I continue to watch the men confronting my sister-in-law.

We see her gesturing toward the house. Apparently, she is telling them that she is waiting for Marcus to come out. When they don’t step away from the car, she tries to honk once again. This draws three more men! All of them are dressed in wet-weather gear, so as I see yellow rain slickered men milling around, I know Millie is on the losing end of her own battle. Finally, after several minutes, Millie realizes her brother is not coming out of the house. She gives up, shifts to drive and leaves. Yes! We move to the kitchen window as seven rain-slickered men wave to our kitchen door.

That night, we are watching the late news when an accounting of our concert comes on. The report states how much the concert earned for the homeless - something like 15,000 pounds! When I hear that figure, I turn, looking in shock at Marcus.

“Oh, my God! No wonder you think we should do this annually!”

“Listen. They’re talking about the protest and petition,” Marcus says.

“A neo-conservative religious group from a Saint Albans church were present at the benefit concert. This group put on a loud protest, standing only metres away from the stage. And, get this, several concert-goers formed a human wall so the protesters would not be able to get to the stage! All in all, Michael, this is excellent! The Lonely Lovers played a concert for local music lovers. In so doing, they helped the homeless in that community,” says the female anchor.

“What do you think that says about the protest group, that they were alleging that members were either drug addicts, violent or promiscuous?” asks Michael.

“At the least, this religious group are facing the threat of a defamation lawsuit. You know how strict British law is in this regard,” says the female anchor.

With that, we shut the telly off and go to bed. My eyes are at half-mast, so I fall asleep straightaway.

Sunday morning’s paper is open to a feature story on the benefit concert and our group. A sidebar treats the petition effort and protest. Because we are getting ready for church services, I promise myself that I will read this as soon as we get home from church. Only, when we come out, with Lizzie in my arms and Marcus holding an umbrella against the persistent drizzle, we confront Millie.

“You have to talk to me now, Marcus! I came to you after my church service ended,” Millie says.

“I don’t have to do anything of the sort,” Marcus retorts. He takes my arm firmly, guiding me to the passenger side of our car. “Get in the back and strap Lizzie-girl in. I’ll drive a distance away and you can get into the front seat.”

We do so, and about one block away, Marcus stops in a shop parking lot, where I switch from the rear to the front seat. We hurry home, not wanting any interaction with Millie - Lizzie is sitting silent and wide-eyed in the back seat of our car. At home, we hurry inside, where I make a cold lunch for the three of us - well, four of us, including the unborn Hadley.

After Marcus takes Lizzie to lie down for her nap, I sit down and start reading the newspaper account of our benefit concert. Yup, the paper verifies the figure - 15,000 pounds! This is phenomenal! The story talks about our music and about how the money will be used - the mayor wants to buy items the homeless will be needing in the next few weeks.

“If any funds from the benefit concert remain, we will deposit these funds in a special, interest-bearing account so that we are able to buy additional items the homeless need,” says the mayor.

I begin thinking of annual benefit concerts - the effort isn’t much more than what we would put on for a regular concert that we profit from. And, why limit the help to Saint Albans? Why not include other, nearby communities as well? Of course, we’d have to talk to the mayors of those towns. And, I’d much prefer keeping the concerts located in Saint Albans, so we can set up an annual tradition. One concert, based in Saint Albans, per year, to benefit several localities. Hmmm. I do like this. I think I’ll talk to the boys about this. I make a note and clip it to my music bag. Next, I read the long sidebar article about Millie’s group. Man! This article is harsh, and I’m glad it isn’t focused on me! As I read, I see something that disturbs me. This reporter - I glance at the head of the article to see if I can spot his or her name - has done some detailed and very comprehensive research. She learned about Millie’s time in the United States, and she also found out about the religious and political groups she was affiliated with! Oh, my…I go on reading. I learn that Millie may have participated in activities against members of some minority groups. I get a sick feeling in the middle of my stomach.

At this point, Marcus comes into the room.

“You okay? You look pale,” he says.

“Read this long article on the side,” I tell him, handing the paper to him.

I know when Marcus has gotten to the part that upset me. His mouth goes pale.

“Oh, my God.”

“Yeah.” After we get over the shock of that piece of information, we talk about my idea. Marcus likes it.

“It’s a good idea to limit it to one large concert a year, else you risk burning yourselves out. Have the mayor invite the mayors from the other communities to propose your idea to them. We can find a large venue…”

“Why not keep it to the green?”

“I don’t think it’s large enough. It’s a good place for a smaller crowd, but you’re going to be looking at several thousand in attendance, mind. Perhaps the football stadium - it holds about 20,000 when it’s filled up, from what I’ve read.”

“You’re right. Okay, one concert a year at the football stadium. How would the funds be split between the cities?”

“Let’s let the mayors work that out. We’ll focus on the logistics for the concerts themselves.”

Marcus’s phone rings.

“Hullo. Oh, dad, how are you? Yes, she was. Did she just leave? No, we didn’t say anything to her. Johanna said nothing to her. She got into the back seat and strapped Lizzie into her seat. I drove off and, in a shop parking lot, Johanna got into the front seat with me. Sorry to say it, but Millie’s lying outright, dad. Okay, dad. “Bye.”

“What?”

“Millie told dad that you had cursed her out and called her a crazy bitch.” He rolls his eyes.

I laugh. “Hey, I might think it, but I refuse to speak to her!” I tell him. For the rest of that day, I work on crocheting a blanket for our baby. Sundays, I take off completely, except for church and taking care of my family. Therefore, by that night, I feel rested. I know I will sleep well.

The next day, I broach my idea of an annual benefit concert to the boys. Marcus and Lizzie are nearby, working and playing.

“So, we talked about having one concert per year. I think we could invite other communities to participate - advertise the concert in these communities and move the entire thing to the football stadium. Benefit the homeless in more than just Saint Albans. What do you lot think?”

“I think it’s good, Jo. We need to work on the particulars so that, when we go talk to the mayor, he’ll get what we’re thinking right away. Then, he could talk to his counterparts in these other cities and villages. It’s good that you want to keep it to one benefit concert per year, otherwise, that’s all we’d be is a benefit band - then, where would we be?” Tim says.

“I have a thought for more community involvement,” Laslow says. “Why don’t we invite symphony orchestras to play some of the pieces with us? It would involve a lot of practice - a lot, especially when you think about combining our band with, say, the symphony from Saint Albans, another from this town, a third from this village…”

“Whoa, let’s think about this. We need to think about the sizes of these orchestras…I’ll research them and we’ll have a better idea of what we’re looking at. For now, let’s talk about ideas for the next few days, then we’ll write something up. I’ll send an email to the mayor, thanking him for this opportunity, then suggesting an annual benefit, for several cities, including Saint Albans,” Tim decides.

As we are setting up for practice, we hear a sharp thud against the studio door. I immediately think about Gemma, our long-ago band partner who went crazy, psycho on us.