Nora by Charles J Harwood

IT HAD all started with a look: blue eyes from an English father; ebony hair from an Italian mother. Once he had not cared that his eyelashes cast long shadows upon his cheeks, that he had the Cupid’s bow of a cherub or that his cheekbones chiseled out at a geometric angle, but when he did, he became what the English termed a wanker or a prick. Perhaps they confused the expression for a heartbreaker. The camera loved him at least. He could recline on silk sheets for cologne or seethe in a sportscar. His life became the silk sheet he had once reclined upon: smooth, compliant and without substance. In pursuit of something, he enterprised. His upbringing on Lake Como receded as he found himself sipping sangria on a Monte Carlo balcony, basking on his cruiser in Cannes or cheering Chelsea within a glass suite above the terraces. His choice expanded with his acquisitions: hotels, leisure centres, nightclubs, a recording studio. Those he found company with complied to fulfill their ta...

A sea of eyes gravitated his way. A private function, the insiders and the elite still amounted to almost a thousand: his staff, advisers, colleagues, family, friends, contemporaries and more. The music dipped as the hoard made a staggered rent in the centre of the room. Vince expected no hitches this evening but reserved skeleton staff to keep things smooth. A ramped podium with mike waited ahead. Vince had prepared a short speech, the contents of which he didn’t entirely believe in. The crash had made him a changed man, but he wasn’t going to let the small matter of crushed legs keep him from being a complete bastard. Perhaps a titter at this point. But seriously, Vince considers himself very lucky to be here and most gratified to see such a great turnout – and all to see a handsome cripple cracking a few corny jokes. Another titter. And I am pleased to see my girlfriend and intended Charlotte here in the crowd to finally make an honest man of me. Claps and whistles and a...

VINCE checked himself out in the large mirror of the Nexus nightclub on the Chelsea Embankment. His hair now shoulder-length in glossy fronds gave him a Bohemian look. In a black pinstriped suit and waistcoat, he felt chic if a little trussed up. A furor surged from the Stella Suite on the other side of the hallway. A rapped-up version of Peter Gabriel’s Big Time filled an interlude. Vince crushed a couple of Panadols between his teeth and washed them down with Sauvignon. He was getting the jitters. His fore-hair was feeling damp. Piqued, he teased it aside. A rap came to the door. Marcus popped his head through. ‘Hey, Vince, how goes it in here?’ Vince let his forelocks drop. ‘Good.’ Marcus entered and leaned against the mirror to face him. ‘You’re lookin’ mighty elegant, Man. It’s good to have you back.’ Vince lifted his chin to check his scar didn’t show above the collar of his shirt. Cackles pulsed across the hallway. ‘Sure you’re ready for this?’ Vince straightened h...

‘You cannot begin to know how I feel…gratitude, remorse, guilt, jealousy…self-hatred.’ He paused at the potency of his words. ‘Part of me wishes it hadn’t been you in the limo with me but words are cheap and in situations like these, I find them repugnant. I am a prisoner of what you have done for me. I cannot exist like that. Therefore it seems we are both in accordance with not going public on what you did.’ Nancy did not experience the relief she had expected. ‘But by not going public about what you did, the press will wonder why I allowed an imposter into my home without pressing charges. The press love unanswered questions, Nancy; they like to use them to speculate, to fill in the answers and create a good story, especially for a public figure like me. There is a choice of people to talk to already: namely everybody Amy referred to earlier. The story would get more interesting when the press find out you had stopped at a local hostel under an assumed name and that this perso...

NANCY’S clarity of tone surprised her. Three pairs of eyes darted her way as though surprised by Nancy’s presence. The splodges of Chagall and De kooning fell into a swirl. Her feet were slipping. Nancy grappled at the window sill behind to steady herself. ‘Don’t tell them.’ Vince’s voice emerged splintered and low. ‘Nancy…’ ‘Mr. Jonas, please don’t tell them.’ Nancy’s vision blurred over. Her ribcage had become a corset, squeezing into her stomach. Next to Blakemore, Amy’s bun bobbed. The whites of her eyes glimmered against her eyeballs. A stuttering wail emerged from deep within her gut. ‘Oh…Oh my God! It…it’s her isn’t it? It’s her! ’ Henry’s blurred figure darted into the room. Sunlight and shadow oscillated. ‘Oh, my God!’ A deeper timbre now. Amy’s folded into herself. Nancy’ blinked her vision clear to see Amy had collapsed onto the couch. Blakemore’s brows had flattened to a straight line, all animation drained from his face. Vince stood abreast, a head taller, ...

‘Ms. Hutchens said she knew Leon in person. I didn’t believe her at first.’ Vince’s mouth quivered. ‘Amy, I think…’ ‘But it so happens she did meet him. That night of the crash.’ ‘Amy…’ ‘She’s that harlot who was snapped leaving the Nexus with you earlier that night. I couldn’t figure it at first. Nora in a cheap cocktail dress, tiara and her face all caked-up. Take a closer look at that face in the tabloids, Mr. Jonas and you’ll see the real Nora. Thank Jesus she wasn’t the one in the limo with you when it actually crashed or you’d be dead by now.’ Vince’s crutch slammed against the floor. A vein twitched at his temple and the scar at his throat flushed purple. ‘Amy,’ he said quietly. ‘I think you have said enough.’ Amy’s volume matched his, yet retained evenness. ‘I’m sorry, Mr. Jonas. It’s just been a distressing few days. The police are on their way.’ Vince blinked. ‘The police?’ ‘Of course. She’s an imposter. She entered a private property without proper consent; ...

‘It transpired after several months that someone had been tampering with the pill cabinet. You see, Mr. Jonas, in places like these, strong drugs are needed to keep patients at ease.’ Amy faced Nancy to serve up a scouring glint. ‘Like people with bedsores, rheumatoid arthritis…cancer.’ Vince’s crutch twitched. ‘She drugged them?’ ‘No Mr. Jonas, quite the opposite. She denied those patients what they badly needed to get through the day. Who’s to know if orange juice or a mint tablet has or has no active ingredient?’ Amy ended her glower with one of her disdainful blinks to face Vince again. ‘A woman with osteoporosis cried herself to sleep with nothing but blackcurrant sweets in her system. A man with a stomach ulcers got by on watered-down menthol. And that’s to name just two patients.’ Amy’s lips bunched. ‘When Ms. Hutchens got caught, she’d made the lame excuse she didn’t like seeing the effect of people all dosed up. They couldn’t keep their promises, made ‘em act all soft i...

Nancy’s shadow crept over him. Air funneled against her temple. She closed her eyes in a wave of giddiness and her upper lip landed on his scar before the lower. She brought them together to enclose the scar between. His muscles writhed within a static body. The couch creaked. She parted her lips to admit the lump of his voice box and allowed it to dwell. Salt and bristle trembled within. She brought her lips together to brush the contours of his throat. His chin trembled against her cheek. And again to deliberate within each nook and then to prod her tongue against each hillock. A peck marked the end of her exploration and her lips came tackily away. Eyelashes bled everything together. His neck came clear before her, damp and twitching. His eyes had sealed shut and his lips had parted, exposing his upper teeth. A tear had spilled from the corner of his eyelid and was making a slow runnel across his temple for the cushion. Nancy was sorry and didn’t know why. Abashment washed over...

THE GATES opened for Millie. Nancy’s right foot slid from the gas pedal to let the Punto sit. Henry wasn’t here this morning. Henry had gone AWOL with his strop and no vehicle now encumbered Vince’s driveway. Upper left was receiving her Punto image in the surveillance room. She guessed Vince had used the security app on his phone to work the gates. Nancy’s fists solidified over the steering wheel. She engaged the clutch and let the Punto roll forward. The elms filed past, the porchway beckoned. She killed the engine and boarded the slabs. Without Vince’s keys she would have to resort to knocking. She raised her fist to do so and sensed the presence of a black bulk behind. Beside her Punto, the tortured limo would appear to have nothing in common but what defined a car. Nancy didn’t turn. She made her way round the side of the house to the back entrance. She spotted Vince lurching from the garages towards the back door. He paused on sensing her presence. Never had she seen him m...

Marcus’s hand engulfed each offering and a connection of glasses sang in the air. Amy pulled at his lapel to impart words guaranteed to lift his eyebrows. The blonde exuded another ripple and Lisa, back in her seat, toyed with her beads. Nancy’s sights brushed against Vince’s leftover bangers and mash and used dressings. No one noticed Nancy wheel the trolley from the room. Their exchanges continued to echo through the foyer as Nancy went up and changed Vince’s sheets. Music started up; a funky remix of Sophie Ellis Bextor. Laughter and voices surged in sporadic pulses. The trolley cleaned in the kitchen, Nancy’s Oxfords came to rest beneath the stairs. The drawing room door permitted a slither of light into the gloom of the foyer. Minus Vince’s keys, Nancy pulled the satchel bag upon her shoulder. The word nurse stopped her from proceeding to the exit. Sophie had completed her outfit to permit a female opinion; Lisa’s perhaps, as her full tone matched her bosom. ‘Is that nurse fo...

Nancy placed Vince’s plate of leftover bangers and mash onto the trolley. Several pieces of sky had been affixed to Big Ben, she noticed. ‘How goes the Sudoku?’ she asked not wanting the subject of Henry to come up. Vince, legs prone on the couch and in his dressing gown, knit his jaw. Her collar felt tight. ‘I don’t know why you didn’t make that call but I want to make it clear you have done me no favours.’ His eyes drifted her way. ‘And I don’t want forgiveness to come into it. It is more a question of choice. That’s why I returned your phone.’ Shadows gathered beneath his eyes. ‘Whether you decide to make that call or not doesn’t matter to me in the least. You won’t get a thanks and I won’t feel obliged. I just want to make that clear.’ Vince nodded slowly. ‘Sure Nora.’ Piqued, she grabbed the cloth and gave it a brisk flick. In a slow blink, his eyes made a descent for her skirt. Nancy grabbed the trolley handle ready to wheel out when a slam echoed in the foyer. A ruc...

Nancy descended the stairs when she was done. The unasked question hovered over the room as she cut, cleansed and applied. The swelling around his knees had subsided leaving pressure marks from his braces. Otherwise, his knees appeared much the same as that first time. Before leaving, she deposited a Sudoku puzzle book onto his bed complete with ballpoint. ‘A little something to keep you diverted, Mr. Jonas,’ she uttered. His skulking appraisal concluded with a disdainful closing of eyes. She went into the kitchen to wash her hands and the rattle of keys startled her from behind. Henry’s denimmed flank protruded from the recess. Nancy quickly dried her hands, hoping he hadn’t spotted her. ‘Hey.’ Nancy paused as a bleep sounded and his boot shifted into view. ‘I’ve been meaning to ask you.’ Henry entered the kitchen clutching Sheila’s keys. A stone formed in her chest. ‘Are these yours?’ Nancy’s lips twitched. Her previous encounter of him in the maintenance room flashed in ...