THE SON OF BOMALLY

 

                                                              Chapter Three

                                                           Death and Rebirth

 

The year that followed Megan's death dragged on painfully for the men she left behind, trying, each in his own way, to adjust to her passing. Indeed, it is doubtful if Gerald ever did, and certainly for a long time he had little enthusiasm for the business, which, until the last year he would have said to be his life, but now seemed to have little value.

          David was morose and confused.  Nothing in his experience had prepared him for such and event, or even warned him of its possibility. He could not bring himself to cry, yet felt guilty if he laughed. The house was like a tomb, but when he was at work, amongst all the other people, they laughed and shouted just as before. He wanted to laugh and shout with them, but could not; dare not.

          Richard was away most of the time, and it was he who most easily came to terms with the fact that his mother was gone. It was not in his nature to be sentimental, and anyway he had seen so little her of during the last few years, that he felt no sense of loss.  Just occasionally he would think of her; briefly; but his mind would soon return to more pressing matters. Moreover, he had scored a success with his first attempt at directing in one off the 'off' West End theatres.  Hs 'name' was now becoming recognised to those who populated his world, and he looked like going right to the top. Thoughts of family were firmly pushed to the back of his mind.

          A small acting roles had served to convince him that the theatre was where he wanted to be, but then, when he discovered the joy of directing, and the power he wielded, he was certain of it.

          For years he had been aware that people seemed not to like him particularly, and yet they responded to him. He had discovered long before that he could get his way most of the time, though at the time he didn't understand why. It was perhaps his voice, a darkly sensuous sound, not cultivated or overtly posh, for he still retained a little of the Celtic timbre inherited from his parents, but with a tonal quality that distinguished it. A powerfully hypnotic combination

          Maybe it was his eyes, deep and dark.  Sometimes he would look at himself in the mirror, staring and wondering, but he could not see it for himself.  He only knew that there was something about him that other people found hard to resist.  He also knew that he had some effect on women, and had not been slow to realise that this was a considerable advantage to him.  Years earlier he had discovered, to his great delight, that it worked on girls, and  had lost his virginity long before his friends. He had never ever been short of girl friends; a fact that used to puzzle him for he never had any false illusions about his looks.  One of his friends used to call him an 'ugly bastard'. He did of course doubt his friends sincerity, but each time he looked into the mirror he had no doubt that his friend was right.

          Because he knew from an early age that he was no 'looker', he reasoned that the effect he had on people was of a different kind.  Not that it mattered to him.  As long as he could score with the girls whenever he wanted, and get the boys to run around after him, why should he worry.

          As he grew older, and particularly when he found himself working in the land of make believe, he was able to find far more important uses for his gift than mere gratification , and though others might have been fooled, he knew quite well that his rapid, and rather unexpected success as a director was not entirely due to his talent.

          But why?  He continued to be puzzled, and not infrequently he wondered why. Mostly he just thanked the Lord (wrongly as it turned out) and used this strange power to his advantage.

          Richard's rise to fame was little short of meteoric, and many of his show-biz friends viewed him with a mixture of admiration and astonishment.  Some were generous and acknowledged a rare talent, but were nevertheless envious of his success.  But there were others, those with a little more perception, who saw something else. They knew of his dark moods and swings of temperament, Perhaps some of them possessed, and therefore recognised, some knowledge of the dark world into which Richard seemed to be drifting and regarded him with fear and mistrust.  For Richard had developed a fascination for mystic forces, and had found himself drawn to the mysterious underworld; and the darker side of human nature.  Now he was beginning to understand what it was he had seen in his eyes during his growing years.

          Richard’s success was not however entirely due to interest in the darker side of human behaviour for he did seem to be able to sort the wheat from the chaff. Very few of his theatrical endeavours failed, unlike some of his rejected projects which, when taken up by other producers seemed want to do. All the time his progress continued, and a his short period as assistant stage manager; dogsbody to just about everyone; had given him the start he needed. A real desire, coupled with fiery enthusiasm took him easily through that early phase.  During his early year in the world of the theatre had taken every opportunity to learn and experiment, never refusing, and, somewhat against his nature, never showing dissent, when asked to do the menial jobs. But he was took it all in, watching and listening and  learning.

          Not least among his character traits was a phenomenal memory, able to absorb everything about the theatre, and its many avenues of interest, to be stored away ready to be drawn on in an instant when needed.  If there was one thing about him that set him apart it was his 'presence'; his complete lack of shyness; his total awareness of himself.  Never handicapped by timidity, he displayed no reservations in front of important people, and  inevitably he was noticed.  Soon he was moving up, and found himself in a production team, getting valuable experience of all the varied activities in the world behind the curtain. It didn't take long before he was invited to become assistant to one of the West Ends' leading producers.

          All the time he was using, and improving, that special power he had, that ability to be noticed, to be heard, to influence everyone around him, to persuade, cajole, even to bully. Whatever was needed to get his way.  Sometimes he would deliberately push that little bit extra, just to see how far he could go; to see what he could get away with.  He was usually pleased, sometime surprised, and often astonished, to discover how others would bend to his will, as he pushed the boundaries of his influence further, and yet further.

          What was more, he kept it all in his head.  All the favours that others had done for him, would one day be rewarded ‑ but usually in a way that would benefit himself as well.  Those who had stood in his way however would find out, sooner or later, that Richards memory was not only accurate, it was also long.

          The inevitability of his rise to the top was confirmed after he got the chance to direct a new play in one of the smaller West End theatres. It was smash hit, and its original four week run, was extended once, twice, and then again. Finally a West End venue was found when a show which until then had been doing 'alright' was hurriedly cancelled, and Richard's play transferred overnight.

          In just a few years Richard had become a big name.  A new star had been born, but one that preferred to be off stage, rather than on. In all this time he had shown little of himself to the paying public on their side of the curtains.  Just nine times in fact, early in his career.  It had been a  play which disappeared without trace after only seven evening performances and two matinées, in a small, and as it turned out, unimportant part.

          Unimportant it may have been, but it was enough for Richard to shed his ambitions as an actor, and to realise that it was from the directors chair that he could exercise the most power.  Once that decision was made, and all his  energies applied in that direction, the outcome was inevitable.

                                                                              -oOo-

Meanwhile David had had settled well into the business, even though he had felt the loss of his mother almost as much as his father. Possibly in a strange way even more, for he had never possessed that strength of character and self belief that was so evident in both his father, and his brother. So he suffered more than people knew. Sensibly his father had  sent him to a far outpost of his ever growing organisation, to allow him learn the basics of the building industry, but free from his shadow, before rewarding him with his own office. 

          "Go away and find out about yourself."  his father had told him once.  "You can't bring her back, so go out and find someone to take her place."

          It was possibly the hardest thing that Gerald had ever been called upon to say, for he found it impossible to follow the same advice himself.

          But it was good advice, and a year in the field having a go at anything and everything, including his fair share of physical hard work, where the broader sensibilities of construction workers, labourers and 'brickies' removed much of the protection of his childhood and youth. Their priorities, their rawness and directness, were different to those he had grown up with. Their priorities of life  were conveyed more graphically and explicitly than he was used to, but life with these 'ordinary' people transformed a shy and diffident boy, into a confidant, likeable ‑ though still quiet ‑ young man. Albeit a young man with a recently acquired somewhat extended vocabulary. 

          The reservations of his childhood and youth were hardly noticeable now, and he learnt to disguise any lingering signs of mourning. He had done well, for only those who knew both the sons no longer saw him as the 'lesser' of the two, and as Richard was seldom seen at head office comparisons were rare. 

          In any case David was an easy man to get on with.  His agreeable manner and approachability made him very popular with everyone from the senior directors down to the men on the sites, or on the assembly lines. Of course the security of his position made up for any lack of natural authority, and the fact that he was the boss's son;  pretender to the throne; was not overlooked; but very few of his colleagues seemed to hold it against him.

          David was a happy man, and content.

          Richard was also a happy man, but, unlike his young brother, he was not content. He had so much going for him that his sibling should have been the farthest thing from his mind.  But Richards mind was not like other mens, and he had come to realize that certain forces were working within him, forces that he was unable to control.  He was by any standard schizophrenic, and his 'friends' found it easy to misjudge which face he was behind, for even when he was being warm and congenial there was no certainty that his friendliness was real, or just another aspect of his devious nature.

          That which was within him, that indefinable something, which gave him an uncanny ability to control people, also gave him the need to control what it was.  Not only that, but as he grew older he developed a great urge to supplant those who already had power or influence, especially where it impinged on him. It was no surprise therefore, that when he became aware of Davids strengthening position he was angry.  His young brother was slowly but surely climbing the ladder in his father's business, and with the absence of his mother, had become number one in his affection.  A position which Richard believed, was rightfully his, and that by accident or design,  he was being pushed out.  That it was his choice in the first place; that he had found his niche; and that he had become successful, were factors no longer important in this particular line of thinking. 

          Rational thought was also being pushed out, and being number two - at anything - was not something that he was prepared to accept, and all he could see was that he was no longer number one in his father=s affection.

          What he would not acknowledge, at least not yet, was that it was not his father's affection he wanted.  It was his power and money.  Missing out in his father's affection was something he could live with; for in truth he felt little affection for him. But missing out from his father's will was not. Gerald Bomally was a hugely wealthy man, and he might now regard his second son as his natural heir.  But Richard Bellamy, sensing that his inheritance might be in danger was determined that he would be getting his share. 

          It was not that he actually needed the money, but he had discovered that money was power, and power was everything.  He had already enjoyed a generous taste of power, and he liked it.  He wanted more, and it mattered little to him how it came.

          What could he do?. He was still young, not yet thirty, but his father was only in his early fifties, perfectly fit, and looked like he would live to be a hundred.  He had to find a way to win back the number one spot in his fathers eyes, and in order to do that he had to return to the fold.

          To his fathers delight, not shared entirely by his brother, he became an occasional week-end visitor. It did not take long to to see the way back into his fathers good books. It was as simple now as it had always been. It was as old as time itself.

          Sex. 

          He had discovered that his fathers self imposed vow of celibacy was under threat, and this was Richards home ground.  Pure and simple he would use his fathers newly awakened interest in the opposite sex, to bring him back to him, and under his control.

          A  couple of years had now elapsed since the trauma of Megan's death, and in spite of his grief, and his earlier insistence that there would never be anyone else in his life, Gerald had started to 'notice' some of the girls in his office.  Then he ‘noticed’ some in the restaurants, and in the theatre. Some in the sports centre where he went for his regular fitness work‑out, and before he knew it he was noticing them everywhere.  The trouble was that he only seemed to notice the young and the beautiful.  Ladies of more mature years, no matter how elegant, and no matter how eminently more suitable, were ignored. 

          For a long time Gerald was content just to look; this way he felt no sense of betrayal, but he was an impressive man, and with an aura of wealth and success around him it wasn't long before some of the beauties that came within his stare, stared back. A little comment here, a compliment there, and quite soon he was ready; still unknowing; like a shy teenager, for the next move.

          He never saw it coming, and when it did it started off quite innocently.

          A date.

          It was in the line of business, and should not have been a date, but that is how it turned out.  A visiting German entrepreneur had brought his daughter along for the trip.  An evening visit to the theatre was arranged, to be followed by dinner at one of the best restaurants in town.

          Thinking to even things up Gerald asked David to join them. "An opportunity," Gerald said, "to meet someone of your own age." They were surprised therefore when the young lady arrived on her own.

          "My father sends his sincere apologies," Steffi said to Gerald after the introductions "he seems to have picked up some kind of bug, something quite nasty.  He's been quite poorly today, but hopes to be well enough to see you tomorrow as planned."

          She spoke perfect English but had a charming soft accent, not at all what one might expect, and her assured manner made her a perfect guest.  David was very much attracted to her, but she seemed to be so far away in from him in her style and manner, and in her confidence and self assurance.  She and David were at opposite ends of the experience spectrum and he struggled to maintain her attention.  Gerald on the other hand had no trouble at all, and when the meal was over and it was suggested that they might go on to a club somewhere, David's heart sank.  Clubs were not his scene, and he could see that this young lady was moving further away from him all the time.

          Gerald too was a little nonplussed.  He was by nature and habit a night person, often working into the early hours, but he knew little about clubs other than that they existed.  But where to find one?  He did not know where to start.

          "Don't worry," Steffi had breathed at him "I'm sure I can find one."

          Somehow David knew that this was not going to be the start of a new romance, and quietly asked his father if he would mind if he made an excuse and leave them to it.          Even at this late stage Gerald did not appreciate the situation, and though a little surprised, even a little cross, he waved his son off to go home and nurse his sudden headache.

          Perhaps David had felt that he was expected to 'shine' for his father but he didn't have the same magic, that 'je ne sais quoi' that made his father special.  But he had made his farewell, and then, when it was too late and he was ready to leave, he seemed to find his feet.  For the first time in the evening he spoke with a degree of confidence. Taking Steffi by the hand, and then raising it to his lips he smiled.

          "Goodnight Steffi,"  he said  "I hope I get the chance to meet you again before you go home."

          "Goodnight David; perhaps I will see you tomorrow when I take my father to the meeting.  After that we will have to wait and see."

          "Don't keep my father up too late will you?" he said as a parting shot, as he moved toward the door.  Gerald smiled and in mock anger, dismissively waved his son away.

          Steffi looked at Gerald with a slightly puzzled expression, aware that she had witnessed a little joke between father and son, but had somehow missed the point.

          "You do not want to be late; you do not want to go to a night club?" Steffi=s eyes widened, curious at this turn of events.

          "Don't worry my dear, that was my son's way of reminding me that I am twice your age, and that you may not want to be burdened with an old man."   He stopped for a moment, then quickly before she could reply he added.  "He might very well be right."

          "Oh no; I like being with you, and I do not mind if you a few years older than me."

          "Ha," Gerald laughed " I wish it were just a few years, I bet I'm more than twice as old as you."

          Steffi took Gerald's hand, and squeezed it gently. Whether she intended a response or not she got one for Gerald jumped, startled by the unexpected touch.

          Steffi too was startled by Gerald's reaction, and withdrew at once. "I am sorry Gerald, I did not mean to offend you."

          "No Steffi, you did not offend me," and this time it was he, taking her hand.  "I'm afraid it is so long since I held a young lady's hand; you took me a little by surprise, that's all."  He smiled at her again. "But now that I am, I must say it's very nice."

          With both hands now they clasped each others, and Steffi said,  "So what if you are twice my age, I think you are very nice, and I will not keep you up any longer than you want."

          They both laughed at that.  Perhaps Steffi had got the joke after all, or perhaps she was a mile ahead of Gerald in this little cosy sexually charged interchange.

          Steffi did not know her way around Oxford, but she did know her way 'around'.  Well travelled and familiar with night life everywhere, it did not take her long to find a suitable venue, and soon they were in the darkened and slightly intimate atmosphere of the back seat in a taxi.  Not one of those large boxes on wheels one sees in their thousands in London; but a modest saloon, small enough to make sitting close acceptable and comfortable.

          Gerald was beginning to experience mixed feelings about the way the evening had developed.  It was after all supposed to have been a business meeting, yet here he was, alone with a beautiful young woman, and close enough to feel the warmth of her body.  Not only was she there, but was quite clearly at ease, and with her arm through his, and her lips close to his ear for her whispered tête-à-tête.  Indeed, she was as much aware of the amorous promise of the situation as he.

          It was only a short journey of some twenty minutes to an out of town country club;  exclusive, discerning and confidential.  Private too, unless ones credentials were of the highest order, in which case all doors were open.  Gerald's name had been mentioned by Steffi at the beginning of her enquiry, and, no doubt helped by the crisp bank note discreetly passed by her, and just as discreetly pocketed by the concierge.  Gerald’s name had been passed ahead of them all the way, so when they arrived to the opulence and splendour of the 'Green Park' there were no questions asked as the doorman smiled and bade them enter.

          In fact Gerald was somewhat disappointed when they arrived, for he had not been so close to a woman for years, and had almost forgotten the feeling, the tingle, the arousal, that the touch of Steffi's body had renewed.  The feathery touch of her hair as she whispered her little words to him.  Her smell - not just perfume, though there was that too, but the smell of her, like a natural aphrodisiac, almost earthy and tantalizing, but with a hint of desire.

          He had felt her fingers writing little messages on the back of his hand.  What had her fingers been saying, and were they questions which he might get the chance to answer?

          The journey was over, and so, he thought, were his dreams.  Would there be another opportunity to enjoy that special feeling?  He could hardly believe; did not dare;  that the beautiful woman on his arm wanted him, as much, he now knew, as he wanted her.

          They arrived just in time for the midnight cabaret, a troupe of singers and dancers who had all enjoyed successful careers, but as fashions changed they had moved out of the spotlight.  But as a touring group singing and playing the highlights from the many musicals, they had found a new lease of their very talented lives, and a new following.

          Gerald and Steffi had been given a good table, and the show, a few glasses of champagne, and each others company, left them both feeling wonderful.  As the last curtain fell neither of them wanted the night to end. When he looked his watch Gerald was a little shocked. Two thirty, just turned, and he didn't know quite what to do next.  But it was Steffi, as usual, guessing his dilemma who took the lead.  “What a lovely evening it has been Gerald; I want it to go on forever.”

          “But where can we go now, everywhere will be closed?”

          “Oh no, there is plenty going on if you want it.” she countered, but she fancied that her beau for the night was perhaps feeling the strain. “What I would like is for you to take me to my hotel, and maybe we can have a nightcap, or something, before you leave me.”

          “That would be splendid.” he answered.  And later, as he was helping her into the taxi, he asked , “How can I thank you for making this such a memorable night for me?”

          She put her fingers to his lips.  “Don't thank me just yet, not until you say goodbye.”

          Gerald was feeling a little sleepy, and had not perhaps, picked up the little clues Steffi was leaving in her wake, but it seemed that she did not regard the evening as over.

          Steffi's rooms were all that one would expect in a luxury hotel, elegant furnishings and every comfort provided to indulge its guests.  Not least of these was a well stocked cocktail cabinet.  Soon they were sitting together on the extravagant soft leather settee, sipping from slender crystal glasses, the delicate side lights aiding the flickering fire to create an intimate aura.  He didn't see her do it, but Steffi had, seemingly by sleight of hand, conjured up some soft music to complete the setting.  A perfect setting for love.  Picking up a remote control she pressed a button, and suddenly the only light in the room was that from the fire, its flames playing on her face, as they were on Gerald's. 

          Steffi leaned across and kissed Gerald on the lips, just lightly at first but lingering, hoping that he might respond.  She was not disappointed, for he thought he was in heaven and had not believed he would ever find love again.  He wrapped his arms around her, turning as he did so that she was facing up, and he was sitting on the edge of the settee looking down on her.  He couldn't resist her and as he bent down to kiss her again, all other thoughts were gone.  Feeling that nothing could stop him know, he caressed her, his heart pounding, his pulse beating; and driven by a force he thought he had forgotten, started to explore her body, and then, as if someone was guiding him, began to remove her clothes.

          Steffi was not the kind to lay there and let her man do it all, and she was just as keen to remove his.  It only took a few moments before they were in each other arms again, this time without the hindrance of dress suit and evening dress, not to mention those delicate and practical other garments, not usually seen.  The were lying now in each others arms on the thick woolly rug in front of the fire, its flames burning brightly, excited now by the promise in the air, and just like the would be lovers, it was alive with anticipation, matching in its sensuous undulations the movements of the two people before it; its movements wilder, its flickering light dancing ever higher and higher.

          Then came the moment.  The moment of that exquisite union when, for the first time, two people become one. For Gerald it was a moment of pure magic, a moment he knew he would never forget.  His head was spinning but then, inexplicably, he was thinking of Megan, his first love; and for so many years the light of his life.

           Megan; the only woman he had ever loved, or had made love with.  Quiet and gentle, ever caring.  Would she ever forgive him?  In all his life he had been faithful to her, never straying.  Never wanting to stray. 'She would want me to find happiness' he told himself, trying to come to terms with what was now happening. 

          He thought of the first time they had made love, and remembered his surprise that it was she who had made the advances.  He was a virgin then, and never once thought other than that she was too, and had expected it to remain that way until they were married.

          So when one day when they were up in the hills, and she became unusually affectionate, overcoming Gerald's resistance until the forces of nature overcame them both, there was no thought of the consequences, or of caution.

          Now he was shocked that while he was making love to Steffi, he was thinking of her.  'Will you forgive me' he was silently asking her, and for one tiny moment forgetting Steffi, and for a moment he lay still and felt his eyes moistening.

          A sudden move from Steffi brought him back to her, conscious once more of those excruciating sublime sensations; like the gentle swell of an ocean of softness beneath him; like the soft swell of the sea.  But the gentle probings of an incoming tide were giving way to a storm of crashing waves, overwhelming him as Steffi, of a different generation to Gerald, and not used to a passive role, was taking the lead.

          Gerald was swept away, shipwrecked and thrown up on a tropical Island while the hurricane ranged, hour upon hour about him.

          It seemed to last forever, and when eventually he rested, exhausted, on Steffi's soft warm body, their sweat mingling just like the life force he had shed when he could resist her no more, he didn't know if he was in heaven or hell.           That night Steffi became only the second woman in Gerald's life to know his love, but for Steffi numbers no longer mattered.

          Perhaps Gerald was too insular to really understand.  For him it could have been; it should have been; a new love to last the rest of his life.  That was the way he thought that love should be.  But not Steffi.  She was a modern young lady; a lady who knew that women were waking up; a lady who knew her power, and was quite happy to use it.  It was not just a man's world any more, and if a girl fancied a man it was quite allright to go for it and not stand demurely on the sideline, waiting to be spotted.

          Steffi had fancied Gerald in spite of, perhaps even because of his age.  That he was twice her age was in no way a problem.  Living in her fathers world she met a lot of older, powerful men.  She liked what they represented and knew how to deal with them, so she had not been disappointed when David pretended to have a headache.  She knew of course that he was out of his depth, and that his headache was just an excuse.  She felt sorry for him in a way, but did not feel that it was up to her to lead young men out of the nursery.

          So it was no surprise to her, that after the nightclub they should spend what little was left of the night at her hotel.

           For all his experience and qualities, when it came to the art of lovemaking Gerald was a beginner. His love for Megan had been genuine, but though he never really knew it, it was without real passion.  Quiet and gentle it was, comfortable and satisfying.  He had never wanted anything else; never thought there was anything else.

          In that one short night with Steffi, his notions about sex were overturned, capsized, swamped by her energy, her lack of inhibitions, her willingness - no, her insistence - to do things that in his previous life he would have thought outrageous.

          Until that night in matters of sex, he had retained his boyish ways, but with Steffi he had joined the men's club. But there was another, unexpected aspect of the men's club, and sadly it wasn't the start of a new romance for Gerald after all.  Had it been so, much of what was to follow would never have happened, and stability would have been preserved, and even lives would not have been lost.

          The next morning when Steffi introduced her father to the assembled gathering for the meeting,  they were all were wearing big smiles, but he discovered that for Steffi at least, her smile was a mask.  Later, when he was able to speak quietly to her, he was stunned to find the warm sensuous young lady, who only hours before had turned him into a young man again, was no longer there.  The lady who had taken her place  was as polite and friendly as ever, but no longer his lover.

           It had been something of a blow to discover that she had no wish for any repetition of the previous night, or to take the relationship any further.  In fact she had said that there was no relationship, and that for them both it was just a one night stand.

          Gerald had, through his sheer determination; with 'guts and spit', become a captain of industry, but in matters of the heart he could probably take lessons from his most junior office clerk.  That he could have been a casual pick up, a one night stand, was beyond his comprehension.  In any case, that was surely a man's prerogative, his old fashioned values had told him.

          Nevertheless the experience had loosened the bonds; had brought back some memories of his youth, and of some of the missed opportunities, when he had chosen work instead of girls.   So, although his dream of a new love with Steffi was not to be, it marked the end of his self imposed mourning, and the start of a new dawn in his life, with certain taste buds newly sensitised.

          'Coming out' as a born again womaniser, was not an easy transition for Gerald in spite of the delightful Steffi, and though he discarded his previous reluctance to mix with members of the opposite sex it was not straight forward  for him.  Perhaps it was the temptation he had always fought against.  Having a wife and family, plus a strong sense of moral duty, was more than enough to keep his mind free from enticement.  But life had played a cruel trick on him when he lost Megan, and now he found himself free.  It was a freedom he would give all he owned not to have, but as he did not have that choice he felt able, cautiously, to explore a new life.  Somewhat reluctantly, for the freedom he felt was of a fledgeling nature, and with a curious mixture of guilt and excitement, he started looking for a way to repeat his experience with Steffi. Or at least with someone like her.

          This change in Gerrald's life brought many moments of self doubt. 'What might his life have been, if, all those years ago he had chosen differently?'  his thought went back to those days when he was a youth; when he had devoted himself to work, thinking nothing, until he met Megan, about girls,

          Would it have been different?  Would it have been better?  'Who can say?'  He almost answered his own thoughts.  But there was one thing he was sure of, one thing about which he would always be grateful to Steffi.  If his youthful reluctance to spread his wings had been a mistake, he would not make that mistake again.

          Was it no more than a timely coincidence that at this critical moment Richard arrived home for the weekend, and brought with him a new girlfriend, or was there a more sinister reason? Subsequent events might suggest the latter. He had seldom brought his girls home before, so Gerald was naturally curious about her, wondering if perhaps he was meeting a future daughter in law.

          "Oh' no, it's not really serious; well not yet anyway." he told his father  "We're both on the loose at the moment so it suits us, and it keeps the juices flowing."

          "Keeps the juices flowing?" Gerald repeated, not understanding.

          "Come on dad,"  Richard replied, "you can't be that naïve."

          Naive he certainly was, and Gerald needed someone to advise him.  Of course he would have preferred someone other than his son to perform that task, but he new of his steady stream of girl friends, and could not think of anyone better qualified.  Certainly there were many other people who he might consult.  Senior colleagues and business friends, even some of the more mature ladies in his office, but this was not something he wanted to make public.  He had always endeavoured to make a clear distinction between his business and private lives, and he was not inclined to change that now.

          So it was to Richard he turned, red faced and awkward, to ask the way. When he heard what now passed as normal, he could hardly believe what he was hearing.  All the values and standards he grew up with were gone.  It was normal these days for girls to make the running, that girls liked sex just as much as men.  That women were liberated since the pill, and that there is nothing wrong with one night stands.

          Gerald's head was spinning, but finally he plucked up the courage to ask his son to help him to find a girl.

          “After all, you're in show business; you know about these things.”

          "But they're everywhere dad, you don't need me to find one for you. You're a good looking guy, just put yourself about a bit."

          It was a concept that Gerald found hard to come to terms with, as was the fact that this 'father and son' thing seemed to be the wrong way round.  He smiled a wry smile at the incongruity of the situation. 'He' receiving sex advice from his son.

          Richard on the other hand couldn't believe his luck.  Wanting to find a way back into his fathers favour, it had been handed to him on a plate.  For not only could he help his father in this delicate and personal matter, he would become party to his particular needs, and possibly about those for which he might not wish there to be a public airing.

          To start with it was clear that his father was looking for a young woman.

          Beautiful?  Yes; but young.

          Charming and intelligent?  Yes; but young.

          Artistic, outgoing, fun loving, travelled ?  All of these as long as she was young.

          Gerald would never have categorised his wishes in this way, but already Richard was working on it.  He knew just what he was looking for, and he knew that in his world which was full of beautiful people, he would find her.

          In the meantime there was Jane sitting in the lounge watching the television.  She would make a perfect opener.  He knew she could be persuaded to flirt with his father, even to make the ultimate sacrifice, and that she could lead him on until he would not be able to help himself.  She was a good actress after all, and he would certainly make 'the effort' worthwhile.  But he also knew the thrill his father would feel, the shear buzz for a man in his fifties, if he could be made to believe that he had  'stolen' his sons girlfriend.

          Richard smiled.  There were others like Jane, and until he found that special person, he would make sure that his father was not left 'alone'.