Chapter 1

 

Harry's heart hung heavy. Dressed in his best dark suit, crisp white shirt and black tie, he sat in the back seat of the car, numb to his core. There were tears in his eyes and his soul was enveloped in grief. As the procession glided slowly through the streets, his mind drifted through the memories.

As a young boy, he had been enthralled by the excitement of the police force. The respect that the community had for the bobbies on the beat, coupled with the high octane television shows of the time, had pretty much ensured that when he grew up, he would join the ranks of the men and women in blue. The reality, however, was that life as a copper could get routine and boring. The same old beat, the same people committing the same crimes, the same battle to find enough proof to lock them up, and it was only getting worse. Public trust in the police was dropping, which meant that the word of an officer counted for less and less and, as the years rolled on, progressively more evidence was needed to secure convictions. When the chance came for him to go on a special operation, to infiltrate a protesters camp, he took it gladly with both hands.

What he didn't bargain for was falling in love with one of the protesters; Bernadette.

They spent a lot of time with each other and when his superiors had the information they needed, he was called back. He left her without a word; but what he didn't know, was that he also left behind the seed of a child.

The inevitable happened, but when Bernadette gave birth and came looking for him, the police refused to search for the missing man that she knew as, "Chris." Having a child out of wedlock, in those days, was a social catastrophe. Her parents forced her to put the baby boy into care and, unable to handle the social stigma and the loss of her child, Bernadette ran away from her Oxford home and went to seek her fortune in London.

Having no skills, she quickly ended up in prostitution. The one asset she did have was a smart social head on her shoulders. With her heart hardened by a rough life on the streets, she led a few prostitutes in the creation of a basic dungeon. It was cramped and the specialist equipment cost a small fortune, but between them they made it happen. At least they were in a place of their own making and in charge of their own future.

Over time, they built up the business and it was fate that brought a small number of police officers into their venue. The off-duty coppers were celebrating one of their colleagues' last day of freedom before he was lost to the inevitable call of marriage. In among that small group, was Harry.

Face covered by make-up and heart encased in steel, Bernadette escaped detection; but she recognised Harry's voice before he even came through the door. It took all her will power to make it through that session, but she made sure that he was treated well and would come back later for more ... alone.

When he finally did return and she had him securely strapped up, she let him have it with both barrels. He didn't stand a chance. Thoroughly shamed and disgraced, Harry had trouble coming to terms with the fact that he had been living footloose and fancy free, while having ruined the life of the only woman he had ever really loved. And on top of that, he had a son; out there, somewhere.

The ensuing months saw him suffer a minor breakdown. There were arguments with his bosses, as to why no one told him, and eventually he took matters into his own hands to try and trace the child.

He was caught using the police national computer for personal gain. Given all the bad blood that had developed between him and his superiors, they were not of a mind to show him any mercy. Even though they were ethically the real criminals in all this, Harry was dismissed from the force.

There was only one thing that he could do after that, which was to stand by Bernadette's side and support her in the business, even though it would cause him a good degree of humiliation and embarrassment in the ensuing years. Bernadette's heart was bitter and, oh, how she made him pay; but because he loved her and felt responsible for the situation, he took it all on the chin.

In the meantime, the child had bounced around social services. Named Mark, he was a troubled soul and it wasn't until he was settled with one family in Elgin, Scotland, that he found a small job in a local distillery. He came to learn about whisky and the romance and patience involved in its creation. So began his love affair with the alcohol industry and he went on to start his own small business, supplying off-licenses.

His business grew slowly and he expanded into the lucrative soft drinks market. As a businessman who worked hard, he played hard as well; eventually taking up BDSM as one of his interests, as well as photography. Sales grew to the point where he was dealing internationally with major brands and retailers. There was no other option than to move his headquarters to London, right into Bernadette's and Harry's back yard. Mark plugged himself into the London community and started to make new friends.

As some of Bernadette's customers loved exhibitionism, she would take them to the local BDSM events where there were other people around, in order to fulfil their fantasies. Fate had set the hands of time ticking, and eventually their paths crossed.

Mark, Bernadette and Harry got along like a house on fire. As the months rolled on and the discussions became more personal, it was inevitable that the dots were joined and they realised the very high probability that they were related.

Mark had always harboured a hatred for his unknown parents, for abandoning him to the system, and he quickly cut himself off from Bernadette and Harry. He used their guilt at the situation against them, on rare occasions, when he needed help with something; like cleaning his personal dungeon, which was not something he could casually hire a local company to do.

In the midst of all this, Mark was seeing various submissive women. There was one woman, Heather, with whom he had a really special bond. Mark had given her the slave name, "K," and everything was going wonderfully until it was discovered that she had cancer. Despite Mark's large financial resource, there was nothing he could do. He stood by her throughout her year long illness, and it tore his heart to shreds. The funeral and scattering of K's ashes ate him up inside, and he went into a deep depression. The discovery of Bernadette and Harry was merely the icing on the cake of his pain and heartbreak.

After some time had passed, Susan came into the mix. She had investigated the scene and spent some time with Bernadette. The conclusion was that she had a strong submissive streak to her personality and that giving up the reins of her shattered, purposeless life to someone else for a while, might give her the breathing space to straighten everything out. Another scene contact told Mark about Susan's existence. Concluding that he could do with some company, and that there might be some emotional satisfaction in helping someone else, he decided to take Susan on as submissive number twelve. Turning Susan's life around, by controlling her for a while, might also heal a little of his soul, as well as giving her another perspective on things.

The wheels were set in motion and it was only when Mark had the first report on Susan, that he found out that she had been trained by Bernadette. The bridge between him and his estranged parents, though severely scorched, was in danger of being rebuilt; but there was no easy way to yell stop without letting innocent Susan down, so he sucked it up and continued with his commitments. He took on the responsibility for guiding Susan's life, naming her, "L," in the process.

Things got messier when one of Susan's friends, Kate, didn't want to let go so easily and wanted to be part of Susan's life with Mark. Bernadette was the obvious choice to introduce Kate to the ways of the scene, so that Kate could understand the relationship between Mark and Susan, and know that her friend was in no real danger. In the process, the construction work of fate added steel girders to the bridge between Mark and the past he had tried so hard to leave behind.

It would only be another year or two down the line, that destiny would land the killer blow. It laid the tarmac and painted the white, dotted lines that completed the bridge and put Mark face to face with Harry and Bernadette again. Despite taking the contraceptive pill and being close to menopause, L fell pregnant.

A DNA check had to be undertaken. It was proven beyond all doubt, that Mark was indeed Bernadette and Harry's son; and that they in turn were going to be grandparents. Effort was put into healing the rifts. Bernadette retired from her work as a Dominatrix, and when the twins were born, she forgave Harry. For the next twenty years they played a solid part in Mark and L's lives, as well as the growth of the twins, Sarah and Henry. It was a wonderful twenty years. The twins grew up and eventually went to University. During this period, Bernadette and Harry had a fantastic couple of decades together. He believed it had been worth all that he had suffered for. They had gone places, done things and finally felt like they had, and were part of, a proper family.

What happened, no one really knows. One guess was that, with the children grown and striking out for themselves, that Bernadette was left with a diminished purpose; but that was only a wild stab in the dark. Whatever the cause, Harry, now in his early nineties, had woken up one morning to find Bernadette beside him, cold and peaceful. A few months shy of joining him in the ninth decade of life, she had slipped to the next realm without him.

He had gone into a panic. It took a good few minutes before his heart stopped racing and his mind collected itself enough to dial the emergency services; but it was far too late. She was gone.

Harry was a wreck. The ambulance staff made the call to Mark and, very quickly, both Mark and L were on their way to comfort him.

And now here he was, sat in the car following Bernadette's coffin to the crematorium. He tore his eyes away from the hearse in front, to look at Mark who was sat beside him. Next to Mark, was L; both of them sedate, transfixed by the vehicle leading the procession, lost in their own thoughts and memories.

Harry looked over his shoulder, out of the rear window. There was a steady stream of cars following. Henry and Sarah immediately behind, with Kate and her husband Frank as passengers. Beyond that, Harry's vision failed him; the cars became a sea of emotion, of people who had taken the time to come and pay their last respects.

Absent-mindedly, Harry looked beyond Mark and L, and watched people in the street as they drove past them. Folks mostly carried on about their everyday business, but one or two stopped and bowed their head, in sympathy, as the solemn procession drifted by, even though they had no clue as to who was in the wooden box. It comforted Harry that there were still people in the world who could find a few moments in their day to make such a gesture for a complete stranger.

Before he knew what was happening, the procession had stopped at the entrance of the crematorium. The funeral director emerged from the hearse and moved in front of it. With his top hat cradled in his arm, he faced the coffin and bowed deeply in respect, before turning and walking down the driveway, lined with beautiful flowers; the hearse following softly behind.

The cars all went to a greeting area and while the coffin was being arranged, people started milling about. Voices were calm and gentle. Portions of the assembled were faces that Harry recognised from the Dominatrix business. They had stayed in touch even though the place had been closed and gone for twenty years. He did all that he could to try and follow the small talk that was going on; people were coming up to him and offering their condolences. He also recognised two women from the very early days with the first dungeon; it was good of them to show, although they kept a distance from him and he wasn't going to ask them why. This wasn't the time to re-open those sorts of wounds. They were as entitled to grieve for Bernadette, as he was.

The doors opened and people started to assemble. As Harry went in, there to the left was the catafalque on which Bernadette's coffin was resting. The air was full of trumpets, strings and percussion as one of her favourite pieces by Holst, "Jupiter. Bringer of Jollity," filled the space. His chest involuntarily tightened several times over and he briefly fought for breath as tears suddenly soaked his skin.

Mark was at his side and had an arm underneath his shoulder, before he even knew that he had nearly collapsed under the weight of grief. He failed to register how he came to be seated in the front row, next to the unassuming podium. L was sat at his side, holding on to his arm and Mark took his place to welcome people to the service.

It was obvious that Harry would not be capable of getting through something like this in one piece, so Mark led the ceremony. The words that he and others spoke, just wafted in through one of Harry's ears and out the other. There were many good words said about Bernadette, all of them true, but the scene wasn't mentioned once. For something that formed such a large part of her life and their existence together, it pained him that it was so obviously absent at the time of her goodbye. And it hurt him; badly.

Eventually, it was time to leave and Mark initiated the final sequence. An upbeat tune, "Silver," gently filled the room; mellow wood winds, strings and vocals on a positive beat, was the best way that Mark could think of, to say that last farewell.

As he helped Harry up from the seat, he could feel his father's body vibrating, as his chest just seemed unable to catch a proper breath. He helped Harry over to the coffin, where they touched the wood as a last gesture, before joining the rest of the mourners as they left the hall.

Behind them, the curtains closed and the female vocal filled the room as the coffin slid gently downwards into the catafalque. Harry didn't look back, because he knew that if he saw Bernadette's coffin descending, then his heart would likely give out there and then.

People mingled around outside, where Mark had placed a portrait of Bernadette among an arrangement of flowers and wreathes. Harry recognised it. The picture had been taken on a weekend trip, when Sarah and Henry were only a few years old. It brought back happy memories. The sight of her smile helped Harry settle down, but Mark didn't leave his side. People milled around and chatted gently for a while longer, before moving on when they felt ready.

Harry was going to stay with Mark and L for a few days, to get his bearings back; so Mark had arranged for a catering company to feed the mourners at his home. The majority of people made it back to Mark's with no issue, but Harry noticed that Bernadette's colleagues from her early years, had opted not to come.

Mark engaged in a good deal of small talk in the garden; the kind of things that people chat about to connect with each other, while deliberately skirting around anything contentious. Eventually he found the chance to take a break and moved to an isolated spot so that he could catch his breath. Unfortunately for him, Frank had been patiently waiting for the chance to talk with Mark alone. He wanted to have a heart to heart and, when Mark separated from the crowd, he approached.

Although Frank wasn't in the scene himself, he got a good education when Kate needed to learn about how BDSM relationships worked. On top of that, when Frank had gone through his own patch of trouble, Mark had invited him for a man to man chat and they had struck up a firm friendship; also meeting in London for lunch every now and then. "You've got a real house full of people here."

Mark turned and looked at Frank. His face showed the strain. "Yes, it is a bit crowded."

"Couldn't help but notice that no one talked about Bernadette's business side even though most of the people knew her through that part of her life. Is it always like that?"

Mark took a swig from his drink. "Yes. Society is still a bit backward about those sorts of issues. Better to keep quiet than scare the horses."

Frank changed the subject carefully. "I also couldn't help noticing that you're looking a bit strained." He waved his glass in the air. "Well, what I mean is, more than usual. Wondered if you wanted to go somewhere or do something, er, sometime. You know?"

"That would be a damn good idea. However the, 'sometime,' part of that, is a problem. There's quite a bit to do both here and at work."

Frank nodded his understanding. "Well, you know where I am. Give me a nudge when you get a chance. Yes?"

"Will do." Frank was about to take a step away when Mark changed the subject himself. "How's Rose?"

"Oh, starting her A levels."

"I'm hearing that she's not too happy. You might want to let go of her a little, let her do some things on her own."

"She's the most precious thing on the planet to me. You know that!"

Mark chuckled. "Yes. I know what you and Kate went through to have her. But she needs to grow up; get knocked about a bit."

Frank's memory went back through all the trouble it had taken to have a child. His sperm quality was a problem, so he had to change his life style and stress levels. His diet had undergone a massive alteration and after all that, Kate had given birth to Rose. He didn't want her to ever get hurt. Never, ever. The result was that Rose was over protected and felt smothered.

Mark was convinced that Frank's attitude was going to cause problems in the not too distant future. Rose was already kicking back and it wouldn't be too long before she was eighteen and could tell Frank exactly where to go; and if that happened, Kate would never forgive him.

Turning his glass around in his hands, Frank nodded an acknowledgement to Mark's concerns, but didn't have anything to say in response. He just melted back into the crowd and left Mark to have some time to himself.

On the other side of the lawn Henry and Sarah stood, somewhat apart from the crowd. Throughout their lives they'd made a little game from being out of the loop. Turn-based people watching, they called it. They'd pass comment between themselves on what they thought individuals were thinking, but with today's events they were just watching.

Normally at gatherings like this, their plates would be overflowing with buffet food, but not today as neither of them felt much like eating. This had been their first funeral and it was a shock to them both. Dressed in black, they were comparing notes about their experiences in further education to date, being not far off finishing their first years. Henry was studying Business in Liverpool and Sarah was doing in Law at Manchester.

"So, how's my legal eagle Sis?" Henry asked of his sister.

"Oh, the course is quite heavy duty and cerebral. The cut and thrust of the court room isn't like it is on TV. I'm thinking of changing subjects."

"Funny you should say that." he said, taking a bite out of his mini pork pie. "I don't think wheeler dealing in the business world is my cup of tea, either."

Sarah reacted with surprise at his news. "What? Dad's hopes are on you following him in running the company. What will he say?"

"He already said it."

"Huh?"

"When we were in New York a while ago. He caught me on my own and said I didn't have to follow him if I didn't want to."

"Wow." was all that Sarah could manage as she nibbled on a sausage roll. It had always seemed a foregone conclusion that Henry would take over the business from their father. This new information set the cogs whirring in her brain, but she refrained from asking Henry what course he now intended to take, in case he returned the favour and asked after her own plans.