Terms of Affection Read online

  “No, never do, or haven’t yet. But nor did he. He couldn’t move, he thought he was paralysed. I think he must have fallen and perhaps broken his neck.”

  “So, he only thought it was a she. If this goes any further it’s best you keep an open mind.”

  “An expert all of a sudden.” Smiling, Angie kissed him. “You’re right. But now I need my bed. I can barely keep my eyes open.”

  The house locked up, teeth cleaned and Lily checked, they climbed into bed. It was almost midnight.

  Despite the overwhelming feeling of fatigue, Angie couldn’t sleep. After ten minutes she turned to face Ryan. “Are you still awake?”

  “Mmm. I am now.”

  “I’m sorry. I was just thinking, I’ve read the file too, but different things stand out to different people, I wondered if you’d mind talking me through what you saw.”

  “Angie, I don’t see anything.” Rolling to face her, Ryan stifled a yawn.

  “I didn’t mean that. What I meant was, if you had to summarise what you read into a story format, how would it read? Start at a pertinent point and then tell me what happened as you understand it.”

  “Okaaay, I’ll do my best, but I’m not sure I can remember everything exactly.”

  “Doesn’t need to be exact, I can go back to the file for that.” Closing her eyes as Ryan drew in a breath and put his hands behind his head, Angie pictured Henry Cooksey’s last school photograph stapled to the inside of the file.

  “At approximately seven fifteen on a bitterly cold March evening, Annette Cooksey answered the door to an apologetic Lorna Rogers. Lorna’s father was waiting in the car outside. Henry should have been on the six forty-five bus into town and Lorna would get on four stops later to join him. They were supposed to be going to see Star Wars, although Lorna later admitted that they were actually going to see Travolta in Saturday Night Fever.

  “Snow was forecast, and worried about his daughter being on the open bus stop, Chris Rogers had taken her to the stop in the car and waited with her. Lorna didn’t get on the near empty bus as it was evident that Henry wasn’t on it. Lorna was worried that Henry had missed the bus, and had decided to walk. If he had they would miss the film, so her father agreed to drive back and find him, and then take them into town. There was no sign of Henry on the route and the bus stop at the end of his road was empty.

  “Annette was worried as Henry had set off in good time, too early, and she’d told him he’d freeze to death before the bus arrived. . . Hang on.” Ryan took a sip of water.

  “You’re good at this, you could do the voice-over for a documentary. Keep going. When did they realise something was wrong?”

  “Ha! Well if they ever dramatise this, perhaps I will. Annette Cooksey knew immediately that something was wrong. When Chris Rogers suggested that as Henry had left early, he might have caught an earlier bus, she rejected his suggestion, saying Henry would have got off the bus if Lorna hadn’t been there, he wouldn’t have continued the journey. Such was her concern, she called Gerry, her husband, at work. Gerry was working a two-to-ten shift and had been due to pick the couple up at the end of the evening.

  “Although Gerry thought Annette was worrying unnecessarily at that stage, he left work anyway. Chris and Lorna Rogers accepted a cup of tea and waited with Annette for him to arrive home. At eight thirty it was snowing, and Henry had neither called, nor returned home. At his mother’s insistence the police were called. Having given their account of the events, Gerry and Chris walked the half a mile or so up to the main road with a police sergeant. Can’t remember his name. They found nothing untoward until they arrived at the bus stop and found Henry’s scarf. They did a search of the immediate area and found nothing. Henry Cooksey was officially missing.” Yawning, he pulled the quilt up over his shoulders. “How far do you want me to go?”

  Angie didn’t reply and he rolled to face her. Seeing she was asleep, he lowered his voice to a whisper. “Night.”

  Chapter Three

  Slapping his mother’s hand away, Henry stepped in front of the mirror and checked his tie.

  “There’s nothing wrong with it. You haven’t done my tie for me since I was eleven, why do you think I need your help now?”

  “Because to the best of my knowledge you’ve never gone to a school dance to see someone you love before.” Joining in with his father’s laughter, she spun him round and brushed imaginary flecks from his shoulders. “If she wasn’t in love with you before, she will be now.” Looking over her shoulder, she called to her husband, “Come on, chauffeur. He won’t want to keep his young lady waiting.”

  “I’m coming, I’m coming. It doesn’t start till seven thirty.” Shaking off his slippers, Gerry Cooksey picked up his shoes from the hearth. “Bloody freezing out there, at least my feet will be warm.”

  Pulling open the front door, Henry led the way to the car.

  “Don’t forget to have that word.” His mother’s theatrical whisper to his father was heard by Henry, but not wanting whatever inane conversation any query might start, he kept walking as she called, “Have fun, enjoy yourself.”

  Safely in the car, Henry turned to his father. “Word about what? Last time she told you to have a word with me, it was about the facts of . . . Oh no! Please tell me it’s not that again. No offence, Dad, but you didn’t do too well.”

  “I thought it was splendid. As I remember it, I was more embarrassed than you. But yes, that’s what she meant.”

  “Bloody hell! Consider it said.”

  “Language! And this is serious now that you’re . . . active.”

  Knowing he was blushing, Henry fought to keep his voice calm. “What? Dad, please. I have no idea what you’re on about, but please believe me when I tell you I know what you’re talking about.”

  “Yes, well, I know you know. I found the condoms. What I’m saying is . . . well your mother mostly, is that Lorna is a nice girl. The daughter of one of your teachers, and to be blunt, you don’t shit on your own doorstep. If this is a fleeting moment, don’t go breaking her heart after . . . well, you know. Be kind, be considerate, and be bloody careful.”

  Silent for a moment, containing both his temper and his embarrassment, Henry stared at the road ahead. Not wanting to meet Lorna after a row with his father, he considered his words carefully.

  “I know you both mean well, but I’m insulted you felt the need to say that. But let’s leave it that you’ve had a word. I’m also cheesed off that you’ve been searching through my stuff, but as I’ve nothing to hide I’m not going to row about it.” Turning up the volume on the radio, he added, “I like this one.” He groaned inwardly as he recognised the song playing. The gravelly voice of Rod Stewart telling someone that ‘Tonight’s the Night’ filled the car. His father was oblivious to the lyrics.

  “Bloody racket. And to set the record straight, I wasn’t searching through your things, I was looking for the scissors. Your mother said you’d had them last. They were in your bedside drawer on top of the condoms. But as you say, conversation over.” Sniffing, he pointed at the radio. “Do you really like this garbage, or was that just to shut me up?”

  “Both. Now change the subject, we’re almost there.”

  Indicating left onto the school road, his father merely nodded. “I hope she’s early too, you’ll freeze your nuts off waiting outside for her.”

  “No, I won’t, that’s Mr Rogers’ car over there in the staff bay.”

  “See you later, son. Have a lovely time.”

  Gerry Cooksey watched his son shove his hands in his pockets and walk quickly to the entrance of the main school block. As he approached, one hand was freed and lifted to wave at someone. Smiling, Gerry watched Lorna run out of the foyer to greet Henry. She was pretty. Linking her arm in Henry’s, she pulled him forward and began to talk, never once pausing for breath. Henry, often a boy of few words, bent his head towards her to catch her every word.

  “Chalk and cheese. They say opposites attract.” Pulling away,
Gerry joined in with the chorus of the song. “Might be rubbish, but it’s catchy.”

  Pulling open the heavy entrance door, Henry waited until they were clear of the other arrivals before he replied. “I don’t think she’s trying to ruin your life. That’s just parents for you. My dad just tried to talk about the facts of life. You’d think we were going to an orgy, not a school fund-raiser. I turned the radio up to stop the conversation, guess what was playing? Only Tonight’s the Night!” He grinned at her and his heart seemed to miss a beat as her eyes twinkled.

  “I hope so. Have to try and lose Dad though.”

  The condom in his inside pocket suddenly felt hot. Henry glanced around. “I saw your dad’s car, is he staying?”

  “Probably. I expect she’s told him to keep an eye on me. I can’t wait to leave home and go to university.”

  “Don’t be in too much of a rush to leave me.” Squeezing her hand, Henry walked her over to the refreshment table. “What do you want?”

  “Orangeade, please.” Lorna glanced towards the great hall as a burst of music was released when someone entered. “I like this one. They were on Top of the Pops this week; did you see it?”

  “Rugby training. Anyway, it clashes with whatever rubbish my mum wants to watch.”

  “Don’t you get tired? You seem to be training all the time.”

  “No, I love it. Anyway, I have no choice. Got to train with the school. And I’ve got to train with the club to keep my place on the team, and now Bristol are interested in me, I get to train with their team too. This time next year I want to be playing for England under-twenty-ones.”

  “Good man. What can I get you?” Mr Rowe, the English teacher smiled up at him. A small bird-like man, with a sense of humour, he pointed to the row of coloured liquids. “Gin and lemon, vodka and orange . . .” Picking up a bottle of cherry pop, he turned the label to face him. “This is a cheeky Rioja, don’t slurp it though, gives you a grin like the Joker.”

  “Who’s the Joker? Orange, please.”

  “How can you not know that? He’s a villain in Batman.” Pouring Lorna’s drink, Rowe shook his head. “You need to educate Miss Rogers, Cooksey. One simply cannot go through life without knowing Tolkien, Salinger, Wilde, Bronte, and Batman. Next you’ll be telling me you don’t know who Clark Kent is.”

  Lifting her drink, Lorna laughed. “Don’t be silly. Everyone knows that.” As they walked towards the sound of the music, she whispered, “Who is Clark Kent? I’ve never heard . . . Oh no. Look, she’s here.”

  His hand on the door, Henry looked to his right as Mrs Rogers waved. “Come on, let’s go in. Pretend she’s not there, you must be used to it; your dad is a teacher here.”

  “She’s not.”

  “Lorna, forget she’s here. Come and talk to me, if you’re lucky I might dance with you later.”

  “You will dance with me.” Her anger gone, Lorna waved to some friends as they found some empty chairs and she took hold of Henry’s hand as they sat. “Which university are you looking at? Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we could go to the same one?”

  “Yes, but it’s unlikely, isn’t it? I’m sure your dad has you down for Oxford or Cambridge. Me, I just want one with a decent rugby team.”

  “I’m not good enough for either of those. Just because my dad is a teacher everyone assumes I’m clever. I’m not, just very, very average. But I’ll do well enough to go somewhere, I can’t wait.” She turned to look at him. “Why are you doing extra Maths if you don’t have somewhere in mind?”

  “Honestly?”

  “Of course.”

  “Because I found out you were his daughter.” Henry grinned. “Thought I might get to see you if I had to come to your house. That’s not worked out well.”

  To his surprise and delight, she grabbed his face and kissed him full on the lips. It wasn’t a lingering kiss, but it was a kiss, and he wondered if anyone was watching.

  “I adore you for that. Let me know when you’ll be there and I’ll make sure I’m around, the rest of the time I’m out of there.”

  “It can’t be that bad, surely?”

  “Yes, it is. But I’m not talking about that tonight. Come and dance. I love Abba.”

  “Not to this. I’ll wait for the slow ones. You go, I’ll have a word with Simmons.” Standing, he held out his hand and helped her to her feet. Waiting until she’d placed her cup on her chair, he pulled her close and bent down until his nose touched hers. “I’ll be watching.”

  Shivering with pleasure, she grinned at him. “I wish we were alone.”

  “Why?” His grin told her he knew the answer.

  “Because then I could teach you how to dance.” Laughing, she blew him a kiss and hurried to her friends, who immediately circled her, demanding to know more.

  Still grinning, Henry sauntered over to Dan Simmons, his best friend and teammate.

  “You lucky sod. When did that happen?” Punching Henry’s arm, Simmons’ gaze remained on the gaggle of girls.

  “If you’ve got it, Simmons, it just does. About six weeks, off and on, only just formal though.”

  “Then I repeat the question, because whatever ‘it’ is, you don’t have it. I like Jayne though. Do you think Lorna would set up a double date?”

  “Doubt it, she wants to get me alone. I’ll consider asking though.”

  “Do it! I get her point about being alone, her mother stuck her head in just now, and she didn’t look happy at you snogging her little girl.”

  “That was a kiss, not a snog.” Glancing around, Henry looked worried. “Is she still here?”

  “Don’t know, mate. It’s not the adults I’m interested in.”

  Lorna remained on the dance-floor with her friends for the next four songs, and Henry and Simmons found a wall to lean against while they watched and mainly chatted about rugby.

  “You’re a dead cert for the team, I don’t know why you worry. . . Look out, Henry, she’s on her way.” His eyes followed Lorna as she left her friends, and looked around for Henry. Spotting him, she beamed a smile and waved as she came to join them. “She’s got it bad.”

  “Of course.” Trying to sound matter of fact, Henry’s heart thundered a little faster. She really was his girl. “Can’t help it.”

  “Can’t help what?” Taking the drink from his hand, Lorna emptied it. “Shall we get another one?”

  “Being arrogant,” Simmons told her. “Cooksey just can’t help it. Is Jayne seeing anyone at the moment?”

  “I don’t think so. Why don’t you ask her?”

  “Because if she is, I’ll feel like an idiot. Find out for me, will you?”

  “She’s not, and yes, she would be interested.”

  Grinning, Simmons punched Henry’s arm again. “You see, I have it. See you later.” Unlike Henry, who was a little reserved, Simmons was outgoing, and strode confidently towards the group of girls.

  “Come on. Don’t watch, he’ll get embarrassed.” Pulling Henry towards the doors, Lorna laughed. “Actually, does he do embarrassed?”

  “Never seen it. Where are we going?”

  “To get a drink and some privacy, can hardly hear myself think in here.”

  As Henry pulled the door open, a cold draught of air hit them. “I’d say let’s go for a walk, but we’d freeze to death. Oh . . . and your dad is now on duty.”

  “Oh my God, they’re everywhere. I’m going to the loo. I’ll have the same again.” Leaving him to greet her father, Lorna headed for the stairs that led to the toilets.

  Holding out his hand, Chris Rogers smiled at Henry. “Evening, Henry. Hope you’re having a good time.”

  “Yes, thanks, sir.” Henry shook his hand. “Did you want Lorna? She’s gone to the toilet.”

  “Women seem to spend half their time in the toilet. No, I was looking for Chelly. Someone said they’d seen her, I didn’t think she was coming.”

  “I think she was here, Lorna said she saw her earlier.”

  “I’ll pop in
there and have a look.”

  As yet another Abba song escaped the double doors, Henry went to get more drinks. He was eighteen in a couple of months and couldn’t wait to be able to walk into a pub with his mates. Such was his size now, he could get served easily, but some of his friends looked their age, and most attempts at visiting a pub ended up with them being asked to leave.

  Drinks in hand, he wandered around the foyer looking at the student art work on display. He was startled when Mrs Rogers stepped up behind him. He spun around to face her.

  “Henry, a word.”

  “Evening, Mrs Rogers. How are you?”

  Chelly Rogers raised a shaking hand and poked him in the chest. “Soooo polite. Don’t pretend you’re interested in my feelings, all you’re interested in is—”

  “What? Mrs Rogers, are you okay? You’re shaking. Oh, here comes Lorna.”

  Spotting them, Lorna’s smile fell away and she almost ran over to them.

  “Leave her alone!” Chelly hissed.

  The nail of the finger resting on his chest dug into Henry’s skin. He didn’t get an opportunity to respond.

  “What do you want?” Her tone challenging, Lorna ignored Henry’s shocked expression.

  “Lorna, darling. You look beautiful. I was just saying to . . .” Waving a finger, she closed her eyes trying to find a name. “Henry. I was just saying to Henry that he is a—”

  “You’ve been drinking. Look at you, your hand is shaking and you stink of it. You are an embarrassment.” Eyes filled with loathing also filled with tears. “Go away, stop trying to ruin my life.”

  “Watch your mouth, young lady. I was simply . . . ah, here comes your father, he’ll sort you out.” Stumbling as she turned, she grabbed Henry’s arm to save herself. “Such a strong, handsome young man.”

  “Everything alright here?” Chris Rogers quickly scanned their faces and knew it wasn’t.

  “Take her home. She’s been drinking again, and is embarrassing everyone.”

  Eyes shooting to Henry, Rogers shook his head. “Now, now, Lorna enough of that. I’m sure it’s just one of your mother’s headaches.”