One For Sorrow

Chapter Four

Friday

16:30

It was late afternoon towards the end of May; the sun emanated warmth through the large windows of Doctor Cecelia Jayne Montage’s office. She was sitting behind her big oak desk, her shoeless feet curled up under her bottom on her chair, and her shoes sitting neatly under her desk. She felt more at home here in the confines of this office, and it showed in the lazy way she sat. A pile of typed reports sat on her desk in front of her waiting for her signature and cursory approval. She was thirty-two years of age and was fresh out of University where she had passed her Ph.D. and medical doctorates. She had been passed off by all the relevant boards and had been cleared to work.

Cecelia, or Cee-Jay to her close friends and family, was a tall, thin, elegant-looking woman who was only ever seen in jeans in the safety and privacy of her own home, where she could hide her self-impressed imperfections from the world. At this point in time, she was smartly dressed in a navy blue-pin-stripped trouser suit. The jacket of which hung neatly on a hanger on the back of the door. The trousers she wore hung loosely around her waist whilst the belt which held them up had yet another new hole applied to it which shone stark against the smart and varnished leather.

The blouse she wore was neatly pressed and long-sleeved, one of which was rolled up over a thick purple cast. The collar was open, revealing a white gauze bandage on her neck which covered a row of six perfect stitches. Her slightly heeled shoes were so highly polished that you could see your face on the toe of them, a quirk of which she was insanely proud. She wore a pair of thin-framed glasses over her stunning turquoise eyes. Her long, deep titian hair was pulled back into a neat bun, showing a bruise that covered the right side of her face starting at the corner of her eye and going right down to her chin. Her nose was swollen, bruised, and slightly out of shape from where it had recently been broken. Her lip was swollen and scabbed from where it had been split and her chin was a deep purple.

She had bruises on the corners of her mouth and one in the dip in the back of her neck which was starting to hurt from where she had her hair tied up so tightly. She couldn’t wait until the end of the day so that she could take it down and hide her face from the world.

People had been staring and whispering about her all week long, hidden comments behind raised hands and closed doors. She had just about had enough of it all now, it was none of their business after all.

Cecelia had been the Chief of Forensic Pathology for Huntingdon and Peterborough for the past six months. She was given the post as soon as she had completed all of the required qualifications. Prior to this, she had been working in a lab in Oxford for the summer holidays since she was eighteen and whenever she wasn’t at university. She had been well-liked and respected by all those she had worked with. Her tutor and her boss at the Labs in Oxford had both put in a good word for her when they had found out that the position near her childhood home had come up. It was very unusual for someone so young to become the Chief of Forensics; the board had given her the benefit of the doubt as most of them knew her, and knew her father when he had been alive. She was the top student whilst at university, passing all her exams with top marks. She had been put on a year’s probation to see how things panned out and to see if someone as young as she was, could cope with the pressures of such a job. So far, so good.

There were many people, Cecelia knew, who envied her, they hated her for her fast-track position, but luckily, as far as she knew, all the people who worked under her were all OK with her. After all, most of them had worked for her father before he had been killed, and had watched both her and her sister grow up; most of them had even been at Cecelia’s Christening.

Cecelia signed the bottom of the form she had been filling out, filed it into a manila file, and was just about to open her locked drawer and put it away when her phone began to ring loudly, startling her and making her wince in pain. Sighing, Cecelia picked up the receiver and put it against her ear.

“Doctor Montage speaking.” She answered with an air of authority.

“Doctor De Ghoulish and Doctor McIntosh to see you Doctor Montage.” Came the voice of the main receptionist. Cecelia cursed herself. She had been trying to avoid these two all week. Couldn’t she have just avoided them a little longer? She wasn’t sure she was ready for this, especially not here! This was not the time or the place.

“Send them up. They know where they are going.” She heard herself say after a moment.

“Of course, Doctor.” Cecelia replaced the receiver, put her head in her hands, and waited for what was to come.

“I would say you were trying to avoid us sweet pea.” Came the soothing voice of one of her best friends. She turned her chair to see the blonde God standing against the door frame to her office. She had always thought to herself that it was an utter shame that he was gay. He stood a little over six feet tall and had the type of body every man dreamed of and every woman dreamt of holding. He wore his blonde hair with a bit of length to it, but it was always kept neat and tidy; his sea-blue eyes had a habit of making you go weak at the knees if you looked into them for too long. He held himself with the air and grace of an aristocrat. His lover, Gerry, stood close behind him. Gerry was the complete opposite. He had short red hair. And pale green eyes behind long lashes. He too had quite a body on him, but people always saw Charles first. He was no more than five foot six and he was a very shy and gentle man who was so easy to get on with. He had a very caring nature, many would say a loving nature. Especially when Cecelia was involved.

She smiled weakly at them both as they came into her office and sat in the two chairs opposite her. Charles was a consultant Gynecologist at the local hospital and Gerry was a consultant A&E doctor. The three of them had been at university and had been pretty much inseparable ever since.

“Hello Charles, Gerry.” She said. She was the only person, ever, who could get away with calling him Charles. Everyone else, including Gerry, was told to call him Charles.

“I have to say dear, you look a trifle better than you did on Saturday night,” Charles stated as he threw a warm smile in her direction, his eyes searching her for any hidden damage.

“Thank you for all your help that night. I appreciate it very much.” She said, standing and stiffening her movements and going to shut her office door. She knew where this conversation was going and didn’t want prying ears to listen in. Mostly she didn’t want her deputy to hear. She could become very protective of Cecelia, and she had already been on her case about it all week long. She sat back down at her desk with difficulty. The simple things suddenly seemed that much harder.

“That is what we are here for darling,” Gerry said, his beautiful green eyes filled with concern. She sighed, she hated seeing the pity in people’s eyes when they saw her.

“But I think it is time you told us what happened,” Charles said, finishing Gerry’s line of conversation, an extremely annoying habit the pair of them had.

“I don’t,” Cecelia replied, shuffling some paperwork around on the desk. Her swollen lips pursed with the air of a petulant child about to throw a tantrum.

“Cee-Jay, sweet pea, talk to us, you need to,” Charles said, his voice near begging.

“And you also need to inform the police,” Gerry added.

“Look, just believe me when I say I can’t, will you? I cannot deal with it being out in the open.” Cecelia said feeling her cheeks flush with annoyance.

“Cecelia Jayne! That is utter nonsense.” Charles declared. “What if he does it to someone else?”

“Charles, please.” She groaned. “This is neither the time nor the place for this sort of discussion.”

“I know this is distressing, Cee-Jay, but you need to tell us what happened, we want to help you.” Charles pushed.

She sighed. “I can’t tell you, Charles, I wish I could, but I can’t.”

“Why ever not?” He asked with a confused look. He hated it when she was so cryptic with him.

“Because he will kill me!” She exclaimed in agitation. Charles looked up at her, shock filled his eyes.

“No, he won’t!” Charles rebutted.

“Why? Are you going to stop him?” She backfired angrily.

“No, but the police will,” Gerry said.

“He is the police!” She shouted a little louder than she meant to do so. They both looked at her with their mouths hanging open in shock, not just about her abrupt outburst, but at the sensitive information she had just blurted out. She screwed her eyes shut in frustration. What had she just gone and got herself into? A whole lot of trouble, that was what.

“Who?” Charles asked, his voice laced with anger, not an emotion that you often saw from him. His eyes flashed with a fire that frightened Cecelia.

“I have said too much.” She said, looking down at her desk so she could avoid his expression; she couldn’t bear to see the looks in her friend’s eyes. It was too much for her to cope with. Why couldn’t she just go back to being invisible? She liked it better that way.

“No! You have got to tell us, Cecelia, he is a man of the law, he took an oath to protect him, and he has to be stopped.” Charles persisted through gritted teeth.

“He will kill me!” Cecelia replied suddenly, looking him in the eye.

“Report him then and he can’t!” Charles snapped. Why was she being so damned difficult?

“It will be his word against mine, he is a respected officer, and they won’t believe me.” She snapped back with slightly more venom than she meant to, which caused Gerry to flinch.

“You need to, Cecelia, we will be with you all the way,” Gerry calmly interrupted, putting a loving hand on his partner’s arm, stopping him. He had been in the middle of one of Charles’ and Cecelia’s heated arguments before and would gladly avoid it if he could. They could get nasty. Anybody listening in would think they were siblings the way they went on at each other.

She sighed and slowly stood, going over to the window in her room. She began to pace back and forth in front of it. “Why can’t you just let me deal with it on my own?”

“Because I know you sweet pea, I know you will let it eat you up,” Gerry said, his voice calms as she lowered herself stiffly down onto the sofa bed in front of the window.

“I don’t understand how it happened, it all just happened so quickly. He had come over in need of some important signatures from a case for completion. I went upstairs to get my glasses and he was just there. I could do nothing to stop it.” Cecelia started, her tone was dull and level. If she wasn’t sitting in front of them, they would deny that it was her who was speaking.

“Who was it?” Gerry asked. She sighed, looking at the floor.

“Cecelia?” Charles pushed. He knew that they were finally getting somewhere, they couldn’t lose her now.

“Detective Inspector Wayne Johnson.” She mumbled and, unlike the secret of the Holy Grail, her secret bled into the world as his name died on her lips. Fresh tears began to cascade down her cheeks again.