Apologies for the delay in posting this conclusion to Chapter Six of Fevered Fuse. Here is a recap of previous events. To make sense of the characters mentioned in this chapter finale, please read at least Parts One & Two.

RECAP: After a strange text message draws a young woman to a bar, she is knocked off her motorbike as she answers her phone, saying, “Sparkle Anwyl”. A flashback to an earlier motorcycle accident confuses Sparkle when she wakes up at her family’s sheep farm. Amnesia has blotted out her occupation and the identity of her husband. She swims and sleeps to remember, waking to “persistent thuds” in her head… back in her memories of a past relationship.

If you wish to know more, there are links to the previous Fevered Fuse chapters that can be found via my updated Snowdon Shadows page on the left-hand sidebar.

Comments and constructive criticism are always welcome.

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FEVERED FUSE

Chapter Six

Goth Patrol

PART 3

Sunday 22nd February 2015

As I sit at home waiting for Bran, my confusion grows.

Cadell wanted revenge. Lies feed that – even after the crime is solved.

What was Nerys’s alibi? What was her motive for helping me? Love?

A bell rings. The front door. Bran by the key turning in the lock. He steps in, grinning and carrying the tell-tale roses, champagne and chocolates. Still acting as the boyfriend even when he’s not the one. So, why the guilty act?

He hugs me, caressing my shoulders gently, fingers kneading my neck. His kiss is lingering, his tongue teasing. But it never means anything. It never has. Play-acting – the friend who wants more.

My mind lingers on the stupid gifts. Alarm bells.

“Put the roses in a vase, annwyl – the bubbly and chocs in the fridge. First, we celebrate my release—”

“A meal at our favourite restaurant?”

“Not yet.”

He scoops me up and carries me into the bedroom. I protest. My heart thumps against my chest. Mind flips. Unexpected. Wrong. It’s not this easy. It will never be with him. I have a lover.

He lays me on the bed, hands caressing me. Lifting my tee. Kisses like butterfly wings on my exposed stomach. Hunger is forgotten. Betrayed by desire.

This isn’t what I want. Bran has always tried too hard – ignoring my leanings. This man tries slow seduction. No frantic fumbling to remove my jeans. Hands find places he’d missed before. Tremors tempt my resolve. This is all wrong. Bran knows I won’t do this.

The wave of pleasure feels wonderful. My hands dance on his chest.

No. Wrong person. This can’t happen.

A feather-touch on my lips. Fingers exploring my face. Down, searching for hidden nipples.

I clutch my head. Blood pounding. Gasping for breath. My body wants this – needs him. Betraying me. Pull him closer. He smiles. Grins? Why?

He slips off my jeans. My body screams for him as fingers move down, drawing out buried secrets.

This must stop. My boundaries are being invaded. Why, when we had an agreement?

Don’t let him. He doesn’t stop. Just continues his fluttering exploration of my semi-naked body. Fingers tracing the edge of my sports bra.

My body betrays my resolve. Shivering. Squirming. Aroused.

My mind wants to fight – call this rape. But Bran is my mask. I can’t accuse him. I’ve encouraged him – want him. This feels wrong.

Thumbs massage my thighs – float teasingly together. Hovering touch of my damp knickers. Gentle, yet firm. Spiralling to the centre where—

Where only one person has the right to go.

But not the first.

Nerys Jernigan. She aroused me this way.

The shivers and tattoos tingling return. The out-of-tune violin screeches. I break away. Reality hits me. I perch on the bed.

Bran slinks beside me, kisses me again – lightly. Another passion-starved lover. And traces of an ashtray.

Adrenaline becomes Anger.

“What’s wrong, annwyl? You were enjoying that. We’ve pretended for too long. This time, I made all the right moves—”

“Ones that Nerys taught you. You slept with her – last night. And then you both seduce me. Why?”

He looks at me as if I’ve hurt him. He gapes innocently. “That’s crazy. I just realised I needed to be gentler – more responsive. Isn’t that why you have strange tastes?”

His eyes contradict the excuses.

“No. You mimic her caresses. The slut plotted with you. Her alibi. You left work early and rang me late. Pric pwdin. You stink of her. I’ve been so stupid. Why her?”

“You ask why, when you work 24/7, or your mind does.” He stands and points at the bed. “You want me to cover for you. What do I get? Nothing. I want sex too. This is the twenty-first century. Jeez, eff cripes. You’re such a hypocrite. You get sex when you want it. You fucked Nerys and then left her – and I covered for your betrayal. Payback is a bitch.”

I close my eyes and try to remember the real passion. It is there – but only with the right partner. Bran can never replace my real love. It’s impossible – despite my compromised resolve.

“You and Nerys deceived me. Did she set this up?”

“Not exactly. We slept together, twice, maybe three times. And it felt good. Isn’t that why you were lovers?”

Yes, I nearly let her seduce me today. But nothing happened.

“Yes, and we had to part. But I didn’t break a commitment to my partner – even if you both tried. Why?”

“Nerys was there when you weren’t. She had time for me and laughed with me. She proved my innocence. Yes, she was my alibi. But she dealt with Cadell. You just did your damn duty. Without Nerys, you would be tramping streets – or dead in the water.”

I fume at his naivety – and mine. And at the betrayal. They played me. But it ends here. I don’t need a fake boyfriend to threaten my life.

“It’s been…interesting…knowing you. I can’t judge all men by your deviousness, Bran – nor all women by Nerys’s lies. Yes. I slept with her, not you. But I’m glad our deception is over. We can’t trust you with our secret. Get out now – and leave the spare key and any copies you made.”

No scene. Bran grabs his clothes – plus the cheap champagne and chocolates for Nerys. He slinks out – no doubt to her.

Then the silence, broken by body-shaking tears. Frustration and confusion. My resolve was broken. I am the betrayer.

Where have I gone wrong? What clues did I miss? I recall the events that led to the empty room – the upended life. The deceptions that were forced on us.

The crime. Too focused on Crime.

Deaf – metaphorically. Gwawr is physically registered as deaf. Yet she hears with a deeper sense – a talent that I’ve yet to learn. A gifted person who hears more clearly than anyone else, using her heightened awareness and appreciation. Why haven’t I learnt to read the signs?

Meaningless letters jumble.

Blinkered by the crime.

Distracted by a simple burglary. By the spiteful bully and the false friend.

C was for Cadell and Crime.

And for Cheats. All the letters were there, but my mind games failed.

C for Cadell, H for Habits. E for Evidence. A for Accomplice. T for Timing. S for Suspect. CHEATS.

And N for Nerys. Ffwc. Crime. Answers. Evidence. Reasons. The big C—

The blow constricts my breath.

I must ring my tad. Is he working? Unlikely. He needs me. I call his mobile.

“Marc Anwyl.”

Bleary. Tired. I’ve woken him.

“Tad, I’ve been so wrong.” Choke back tears. “Please, I need to talk. I’ll come—”

“No. I’m on my way to your flat. Stay there, Meinwen.”

This flood is not me – the cool cop.

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I’m still crying when the doorbell rings. Tad.

I hug him and stroke his bald head.

“I didn’t realise. It’s cancer – the treatment. You didn’t want to tell me – anyone. I understand. But I’m here, and I love you.”

I pull him closer. Too late?

He holds me. Weeps with me, although his grip is as firm as ever. Never willingly weak.

“I don’t blame you. I hide behind a tough facade every day. Always have done.” He strides into the front room and eases into the sofa. Wipes some tears away. “Was I too tough as a father?”

I stand beside him. Hold his naked head and caress it. Precious. What is too tough?

“Strict, yes. Never harsh. You made me what I am – as did mam. Gave me rules – a code to honour.” Tested me every day. Today. He’d wanted me to investigate. “Pushed me to be—”

“The best, Meinwen. That’s what you are becoming. As a child, you were inquisitive… needing to solve everything.”

“Except I missed all the signs – your baldness, Bran’s cheating, Nerys’s lies. And I forgot the rules. I don’t even know what I want anymore.” I look at him, into his soul. “I want you back with mam. I want our family whole again. I will convince her, as I know she still loves you in her heart.”

He drops his head in his hands. Our tears become gasping sobs.

I drop to my knees – grab him. Trembling as he cries. Eventually, he settles, while my heart breaks.

“I don’t have much time. Maybe four months. I was diagnosed too late with stage four prostate cancer. I kept missing check-ups.” He shakes himself – smiles. “But, if you want, I’ll come home with you. Learn to be a family. I can do that, at least, although I dreamt of more.”

More? What do fathers want? Love. I crave that affection and fear the outcomes. Like losing him again. Torrent of tears. And confusion.

“I have a confession, tad. The relationship is over. Bran was sleeping with my best friend.” He nods. Don’t stop there.

Not yet. Too much shit to handle. Not everything – some things must remain hidden.

“Inevitable, even without my concerns. The warning signs were there. Your sister sensed those—”

I start, then stare. And I didn’t see them. “Gwawr told you? When?”

Tad closes his eyes and smiles. She has that effect.

“When we all lived in Garndolbenmaen, and you first started dating Bran. Even back then, she sensed something was troubling you. She was frightened for you… all the bullying … the Goth Patrol.”

My sensitive sister frightened for me – unaware of how deep I had gone. Of what I was becoming – a vigilante. Or did she suspect? Had she tried to talk to me? Blinkered to her love. So, Gwawr talked to tad. Our precious role model.

“So, that was why you dropped suggestions that my class do a project on Heddlu Gogledd Cymru and their operation in Porthmadog.” I laugh at the blatant but clever move. “Kept me off the wrong streets but on the right ones.”

“It worked. Although I had to let you solve the Bran issue.”

I gesture to the kitchen. Make us our favourite fresh black coffee. Delay my hardest confession. When do I admit my mistake? If it is one.

Settled in the front room, I sip the black motivator. The thoughts escape.

“Nerys Jernigan helped me. Today … as before. But the reasons were false. She used me to get Bran.” Pause. Breathe. Heart beating. Tattoos tingling – encouraging. Half-truths are bubbling. “Confession – I slept with her a few years ago. Bran was the … rebound. Relationships like that must be wrong. The chapel condemns it. Taid Pugh would cane me.”

Will my Heddlu colleagues call me ‘dyke’ as the bullies did? Ignore that. My decision is made as I continue. “A mess. I’m confused, tad.”

His tears begin again. He shakes his head. Why didn’t I remain quiet? His rejection is next. Found then lost.

He takes my hands and smiles.

“I knew about your ‘affair’ with Nerys. You need to discover yourself, and that’s not a sin, whatever preachy chapel folk say. You’ll find the right person – maybe a woman, maybe a better guy than me. Who cares if you truly love each other? That’s all I want.”

He isn’t angry. I’m not being thrown out on my arse. He doesn’t suspect. The right person lives with me.

“You knew? How?”

“Clues. Concern about the Goth Patrol. You and Nerys were so close. Teachers talked but didn’t know. Life gets complicated. Crime can be complex. Cops sense things. You’re learning that. Gut feelings, or in your case, tattoos tingling, and lateral thinking. You started young, and that helps.”

I laugh. Tad even sees my weird quirks. What next?

“This time, I don’t have the time to waste edging you on to the next step. I’ll be blunt. As I suggested last year, CID is your logical way forward.”

Alarm, even with hints. “But aren’t I too young? Maybe in a few years—”

“As I said, you learnt to read the signs growing up, even if you took a strange path. You’ve had three feverish years on the street. Your mind is your gift. CID needs your wiles. Never forget my tad was eighteen when he landed at Normandy.” He reaches into his jacket and removes a folded form. “Anyway, applications are open. This will get you started, although there’s a lot of studying and learning ahead.”

“I’m already learning – from you, tad. And from others.”

Does he realise how close one detective is to me? Same flat. Same bed. Same quirks.

“Keep learning from the best. I even made a recommendation that you post here in Porthmadog, which might fast-track the process. You know DCI Ffion Baines from various cases, even from before you did your initial training. She’s the best detective NWP has had for a few decades, and she’s understanding.”

I glance at the form. Mind racing. Is there time?

“Once I’m accepted, it’ll mean seventeen weeks away perhaps. Will you be here when—?”

“For you, Meinwen Sparkle Anwyl, I will be down here for that day… and then forever.” From around his neck, he shows me a dove on a chain. “My mam gave me this emblem of Saint David … so I never lost her.”

Forever in my heart and actions. We embrace. Homecoming beckons.

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