Born in 1964 in Enfield, educated in Enfield & Manchester. I have competed in mind sports events (chess, mental calculations, poker etc) and won 27 medals in these in the last 11 years.
I write in science fiction, general fiction, mathematics, general mind sports & several other topics besides.
My interests are in the same subjects, as well as photography, wildlife, puzzles & quizzes, walking and just generally having some 'quiet thinking time'. BREAKING POINT
Marian Lean sat at her desk and, taking advantage of an all-too-rare lull in her workload, mulled over the wreckage that was her life. She was determined to straighten things out, but how? Her clerical job at the regional office of the Remington Building Society paid a few bills but it hardly put her at the centre of the universe. ‘Thirty six years old’ she said to herself, ‘and not one serious relationship to show for it all.’
Dating and introduction sites on the Internet had seemed like such a good idea a year ago, and she’d found a few ‘nice’ men – or so she thought at the time – but the only time she’d met such a man face-to-face had been a disaster. Nigel Lawrence had been so tempting; Marian found his slender frame and even his foreign accent rather attractive. Their one date, however, had been less than a roaring success. Having nearly failed to recognise each other at the railway station where they’d agreed to meet, they soon realised neither of them had a clue about what to do or where to go. After stumbling around almost blindly for a while, they finally settled on a couple of drinks at a quiet pub. The beer garden was cool & quiet; almost deserted. Nigel started ‘singing the praises’ of how things were so different in his country – which turned out to be South Africa – and Marian got the impression that ‘different’ (in Nigel’s eyes) meant ‘so much better’. Even the weather turned against Marian as a sudden downpour drove the pair of them inside.
Jan Gooch, Marian’s immediate manager, broke the spell of the impromptu reverie – just as Marian was considering herself to be better off without Nigel anyway. ‘Well,’ she thought, ‘he was probably just a passport hunter looking for a ticket for permanent British residency.’ ‘Marian, you don’t look like you’re particularly busy at the moment. I’ve got a job for you.’ Marian looked round so quickly she almost threw herself from her chair. Jan had brought two temporary recruits – Michael George and Manesh King – to be introduced to the Remittance Reconciliations Team where they would be working for anything up to the next six months. One glance at Michael was enough to convince Marian that life wasn’t so dull after all. His body looked like it had been carefully hewn from stone by a master sculptor and his dark brown hair, cascading almost to his shoulders, framed a smile Marian felt she could offer to die for. This was turning out to be one of life’s better days, it seemed.
Marian spent a very happy four days – although she probably hadn’t needed more than tow and a half – showing the two newcomers exactly what went on in the team. Making the most of every opportunity she could find, she would ask Michael plenty of ‘social’ questions in an effort to get to know him as well as she could. Whilst she knew nothing was perfect, Michael didn’t seem to be falling very far short.
Michael was a third-generation Brit with Greek Cypriot ancestry. He was intelligent, clean-living, keen on sports (though only watching, not taking part), and was approaching thirty years old. As the time drifted by, Marian felt that each day in Michael’s company was becoming more and more precious. Unbeknown to Marian, Michael was wary of her attention and was indeed scouring the employment markets for a permanent position.
Michael had been working at the Remington office for about six weeks when his attitude seemed to change and he perked up considerably. He’d exchange occasional smiles with Manesh; he clearly knew something the others didn’t. Marian had no idea that something was ‘in the air’ on that Wednesday morning. Her love for Michael had blinded her to the warning signs. The news hit her like an out-of-control truck; Michael was leaving to work with a travel agency based in Camden. She made sure he had at least four ways to keep in touch with her, but all she got in return was a promise to send her an e-mail from his new workplace. A promise which turned out to be empty.
Manesh had been Michael’s friend, was Michael’s friend. Surely he could pass a message along the line – couldn’t he? ‘Sorry Marian, his mobile’s permanently switched off. I know how important this is to you though, so I’ll keep trying.’ It was obvious to Marian that Manesh’s reassurance had about as much value as a second hand bus ticket. Only once in the following three weeks did Manesh admit to making contact with Michael – and that was to say he’d intended to move to Greece with his new girlfriend. Two weeks after Michael’s departure, Manesh also left Remington. Without her ‘living lifeline’, Marian saw her chance of finding Michael finally dwindle to nothing.
In a desperate effort to shake off the gloom of loneliness, Marian sought friendship at her local bridge club. Clive Flowers drew her attention – and it looked like he was interested in Marian too. Perhaps she’d finally found someone like-minded and, just possibly, in a similar position to herself.
Clive was shy, even more so than Marian – and she wondered if that was why he was still single at 34. It probably was, she told herself; she was two years older and still similarly unattached, and for that very same reason. Marian was soon a regular player at the bridge club, often finding herself glancing in Clive’s direction when someone raised the familiar call of ‘table up’. A shudder went through her when, on one occasion, she saw him looking straight at her at the same time. She smiled, he nodded slightly, she joined his table. At last they were on the same team – a couple together, even if only as bridge players.
Clive suggested that they get together after the club meeting; Marian, unsurprisingly, didn’t argue. There was still a good part of the evening left as it was only about 9:30 – and the two of them settled for a trip to the nearby bowling alley. Remembering her encounter with Nigel, Marian thought the quaint little Dog & Partridge pub across the road from the bridge club didn’t seem too appealing. Four frames of bowling later, with Clive having won three and letting Marian win the last, Marian felt herself being drawn to Clive in almost the same way as she had felt attracted to Michael. ‘Here we go again,’ she thought to herself. ‘Please don’t let this be another blowout!’
As they waited for their respective buses home, they both seemed all too eager to thank each other for a great evening. Marian moved to kiss Clive – just a quick peck on the cheek – and Clive recoiled as though she’d tried to slap him. ‘I’d really rather you’d not do that’ he said sharply. ‘I’m not the physical contact type. It’s been a great time, please let’s not spoil it.’ Marian felt a great cloud suddenly descend upon her. Yet another potential relationship had turned out to be a non-starter.
Hoping she could still hang on to Clive as a friend, Marian turned back to her computer in search of someone who might be more than that. That’s when she found Christopher Carey, who apparently lived in Birmingham. ‘Ok,’ she told herself, ‘Birmingham’s not exactly on my doorstep – it must be ninety miles from Barnet, but this guy really looks like he’s worth it.’
Christopher looked like a kindred spirit. He was a dreamer in search of a friend; ‘So am I’ thought Marian. Within days, they’d exchanged e-mail addresses – and Marian had sent Christopher her mobile phone number. Checking her call log one Thursday evening, she found she’d missed a call from a number she didn’t recognise. It had a ‘+1’ prefix – North America. A wave of apprehension washed over her as she took a closer look at Christopher’s user profile on the dating site. ‘Uh-oh, that wasn’t in my copy of the script.’ Marian had finally realised that the target of her latest romantic endeavour wasn’t from
Nevertheless, the pair continued to grow closer together – emotionally if not geographically. As the year drew to a close, Marian felt herself almost being swept away by the floodtide of emotions. Christopher was coming; soon they’d be together. When December 31st dawned, Marian was determined to be a part of that evening’s revelry in
The week dragged by with agonising slowness. Monday night’s public party had been pleasant, but no more than that. Although there had been more than ten thousand people there – despite the earlier atrocious weather – there had only been one person on her mind. And now it was Friday afternoon; the butterflies were churning in her stomach. The five o’clock alarm on her wristwatch was like a starting gun. Normally one for hanging back and making sure everything was exactly as it should be, Marian was a blur as she packed away all her stuff – and then she ran out of the door as if the Devil himself was chasing her. Onlookers must have thought she was training for that year’s Olympic Games in
Big hugs were the order of the day – or at least the order of the evening – when the Stanstead Express arrived. Marian whisked Christopher away on a lightning tour of some of the major sights of
They’d eaten supper on the move, having called at a traditional English ‘chippy’ during their frantic trip around
By the time the sightseeing trip was over, the Underground was ready to close down for the night – and it was a slow journey home to Barnet on the night buses. Not that either of them minded; Marian was off duty for the weekend, and Christopher had never ridden on a double decker bus before. When they finally reached the front door of Marian’s house, her nerves were seriously on edge – just as they had been during the afternoon. It was two o’clock in the morning and they were both tired out, even though Christopher’s day had started later than Marian’s because of the time difference.
Despite the tiredness, neither of them was in the mod to sleep. Marian had no ‘spare bed’, and what would normally have been the spare bedroom was in use as a storage hold for her collections of records, games and books. Christopher would either sleep on the sofa – or share her bed. It was a simple, straightforward decision to make – and Christopher’s choice was, quite frankly, a rather obvious one. The sofa wasn’t put to use that night and, although this was their first (and only) night together, Marian and Christopher drifted almost blithely into doing what comes naturally to a woman and a man.
The cold light of morning seemed to put everything into a whole new perspective. Christopher would be gone in a few hours and back across the
Marian couldn’t see that Christopher was actually glad to get away from
Friday January 11th felt to Marian as though it was the worst day of her life. Christopher was leaving on an early afternoon flight, and she’d been unable to take a day’s holiday to see him off. Worse was to come, just a few days later. They had been in almost constant contact by phone and e-mail, but Christopher’s news on the evening (
Wednesday morning dawned all too soon for Marian. She’d though she would cry herself to sleep, but no sleep had come to her. Feeling sick and angry, though curiously not at all tired, she forced herself into her usual morning routine and somehow managed to get herself to the office. She was obviously in a terrible emotional state – Jan had no option but to send her back home as being unfit for office duty. Alan Patricks, Marian’s friend and a father figure to the whole team, took her aside for some words of comfort. Had it not been for Alan’s patience, sympathy and understanding, Marian’s sanity would undoubtedly have snapped on that day.
In the space of just a few months, Marian had learned how to fall in love – without realising she was practically addicted to it. And, just like a drug dependency, shallower and shallower highs were invariably followed by deeper and deeper lows. Her mind couldn’t take much more of this emotional battering, but still she pressed on in search of that elusive thing we call love.
Marian returned to work on the Thursday and absolutely threw herself into her job. She also made the potentially disastrous decision to throw herself into a renewed, concentrated search of the dating sites on the Internet. Before the month was over, she had found David Johnstone; a schoolteacher from Finchley. He was older than Marian, but he had similar interests – not to mention a great smile. Yet again, Marian was in an almighty rush to meet the man behind the profile picture. And within a week, she did.
David was just the kind of man Marian needed. He was thoughtful, clever, non-judgemental and genuinely kind. If anyone could guide her through the aftermath of her ‘fling’ with Christopher, David was the man. This was not going to be allowed to become a whirlwind romance; the last effort had turned into a tornado and it almost blew her away. This was going to be much slower, much more cautious.
Marian and David dated for over four months – bowling, concerts, even a couple of shopping trips. David had easily sensed Marian’s attraction to him, and Marian had noticed this. As she turned the page on her wall calendar to June, she told herself it was time to make some kind of move. ‘Today’s Sunday’ she said under her breath. ‘And the weather’s just great for a picnic.’ A quick phone call, a few minutes in the kitchen, grab a bottle of wine from the fridge – go back for the corkscrew – and away.
Lunchtime that day couldn’t have been more idyllic. Everything was perfect, from the surroundings of the park to the sandwiches to the wine and, of course, to the excellent company. Except, perhaps, for that nosy dog that seemed just a bit too interested in the pork pie. This was Marian’s big moment. Turning to David, she threw him a smile that said everything. David shifted a little uneasily. She took a very deep breath and asked him to kiss her – and soon wished she hadn’t. ‘We’re friends’ was his reply. ‘Just friends, no more than that. I thought you knew that.’
Marian showed a brave face for the rest of the day, but it was only a poor mask for her feelings of having effectively been rejected again. That evening she realised she’d reached another low point. In no mood to be sent home again the next day, she went straight back to the dating sites. Marian was now a ‘featured member’ on no fewer than seven sites. The subscriptions were eating into her wages, but she just didn’t care. All that mattered to her now was to find someone to share her life with.
It didn’t take Marian long to find Sam Gayle; she was sending him a ‘first flirt’ message by ten o’clock that night. Sam was a tough-looking Australian living in Kensington. Casting all of her past experiences from her mind, and in the process forgetting any lessons she may have learned, she leaped at the chance to meet him at a Kensington pub that Friday evening. Dressed in her favourite frock, the one in a saffron colour with white swirls, she headed into town not knowing quite what to expect.
Sam, in his football shirt and cycling shorts, spent most of the evening talking about other women he’d known – dozens of them as it seemed. He was, Marian realised, nothing but a time waster getting his fun from leading women astray. Marian arrived back home that night feeling as though the life had been kicked out of her. Turning to her books and casting her mind back to her school science classes, she made her final decision. Picking leaves from the foxgloves in the local cemetery grounds, then mixing them with vodka to bring out the digitalis, she made herself one last drink. By midnight, she was dead.
Jan Gooch, on hearing the sad news, could only bring herself to say ‘I saw it coming, but I just couldn’t do anything to stop it from happening.’ Neither Clive nor Christopher seemed to care one way or the other, and Michael & Manesh bid ‘good riddance to her’ when they were told what Marian had done. David whispered a prayer in quiet sadness, but didn’t go to Marian’s funeral. Of her friends, Alan was the only one who attended her memorial service. Nigel Lawrence, the man who unwittingly set the whole train of events in motion a few months before, stayed blissfully unaware of that final, fatal outcome.