Fatal
Meeting
By
David O’Neil
Argus Enterprises International
New Jersey***North Carolina
Fatal Meeting © 2011. All rights reserved by
David O’Neil.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any informational storage retrieval system without prior permission in writing from the publisher.
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ISBN: 978-0-6155350-3-6
ISBN: 0-6155350-3-8
Book Cover designed by Dubya
Printed in the United States of America
Chapter One
Donny decided he liked Abby. He was still pretty shy when he was around girls, but with Abby, he felt comfortable. That was the word, comfortable. She was someone that he could talk to, without feeling he had to prove his superiority. That was funny. Abby was the top in her class at the High School they both attended. There was no doubt in Donny’s mind, who was the superior one, mentally at least.
Donny’s position was comfortable, midway between average and top. He liked keeping a low profile, though not too low. Despite being well built, and fairly athletic, he was regarded as quite fit by most of the girls in his year. His quiet shy manner kept him in the background, when the more aggressive among the boys of his age were on the pull.
Abby had taken to the shy, nice-looking Donny, rather than the more boisterous and demanding, members of her age group. She did not take kindly to the assumption that a girl was a necessary accessory for any boy with status to maintain. Uncomfortable with the lewd suggestions swapped between many of the girls and boys around her, she suspected that in many cases the sex education classes that they all had to attend were in fact the basis for experiment by many who regarded their promiscuity as a status symbol. To Abby it was odd that the girl in 4th year, who was off school at the moment to have her baby, was regarded as some sort of heroine by her classmates.
They had met when she had bumped into Donny in the Friday Club, the early evening Disco dance held weekly in the Gym. Abby was taller than many in her year, one of the better-looking of her class; slim and athletic. She dressed without emphasizing her femininity with the padded uplift bras and the pelmet skirts of some. Nor did she wear the skimpy tops and low-cut jeans so many of the others wore that showed expanses of flesh often bisected with the T of their thong underwear. Tonight she was wearing a crisp pale blue blouse with a just-above-knee length navy skirt that flared slightly.
She had swung away from the snack bar with a cup of coffee in her hand and bumped into Donny who was behind her. “Whoops, sorry! Nearly had an accident.”
“No problem.” Donny grinned “That’s a bit full. Perhaps you’d better sit down somewhere with all this mob about.” He indicated the crowded dance floor and, noticing her juggling with her slipping shoulder bag, a cup, plus a paper plate with a cake on it, said. “Hang on. I’ll take that.” He took the plate and cup, and turned and strode over to a bench and table where there was room to sit. Putting the cup and plate down, he said, “Back in a minute.” And dashed over to the bar and collected a coffee for himself.
Abby had seated herself on the bench, bag beside her not quite sure how she had found herself sharing her coffee break with a boy.
Donny joined her on the bench, coffee in hand. He smiled at her and said “You’re Abby Marshall, aren’t you? I’m Donny Weston.”
“Yes, I know.” Abby said “You play basketball for the school, don’t you?”
“And you play netball for the school. Am I right?” He looked at her directly and she found herself blushing. She noticed that he had a red tinge too and realized that he was also blushing.
Both sipped their coffee and both started to say something simultaneously. Both stopped. Then the same thing happened. Abby broke the cycle, “You first.”
“I’m sorry. I’m not used to talking to girls. I suppose I’m at a loss. I don’t really know what to say.”
Abby looked at him searchingly, then “Try saying what comes into your head without attempting to be smart or witty. Don’t worry about it. Just say something you mean.” She found herself holding her breath waiting to hear what he would come out with.
Donny thought for a moment then decided to do just that. “I was trying not to say that I have been trying to pluck up the courage to speak to you all term. I know you’re pretty brainy and I can see you are attractive. I’ve wanted to speak to you and find out if what I see is what you are really like. Or words to that effect.” He started to get up, “So, if I’ve upset you, I’m so….”
She reached out and took his arm. “Where are you going? You don’t think I’m going to let you go without a chance of a reply, do you?”
Confused he sat down. He had convinced himself that she would put him off after that little speech. He was leaving before he got too embarrassed.
Without taking her hand from his arm, as if to make sure he didn’t run away, Abby looked at him seriously for a moment. Then she smiled, “What was that all about?”
“Well, you said to say exactly what was on my mind. I thought you’re right. it is best to be honest up front sometimes and that this might be the only chance I would get. So I’d better make the most of it.” The grin was shamefaced, but it was also without guile.
“Did you mean what you said just now?”
“Of course I did. What do you take me for?” The indignant tone said it all.
“You’re serious? You want me to be your girlfriend?” Abby blushed as she said this. The only other time she had consented to be someone’s girlfriend she had finished up on the first date fighting off his groping hands that were attempting to undo her brassiere. The left hook backed by the muscle of her goal-scoring arm finished the struggle by giving her escort a bleeding nose and a serious complex about his manhood.
“Of course I do. Will you?”
To her surprise, and Donny’s, she said, “I…I think I would like that.”
Donny said nothing. He just took her hands in his across the table. He looked her straight in the eye and said “Good.”
He was red-faced as he continued. “I wanted to ask you the first day you came to our school, when we were both fourth formers. Then you went out with that idiot Patrick. I thought that was it, all over for me. He always seemed to get the girls. When you dumped him the next day I thought if he couldn’t keep you, what chance would I have. One thing led to another. I was disgusted when that girl Shirley got pregnant. I thought girls had to be pretty rough to do things like that at her age. Most of the other girls seemed to be having sex with their boyfriends. At the time I got pretty disgusted with the whole girl-boy business.
“Eventually I decided I was being silly. It was quite obvious that not all the girls were like that. You hadn’t carried on with any of the others. I got the impression that you had decided to get on with your work and you seemed to withdraw from the people around you. I guess I thought you had cut boys out of your life while you studied. So I stood back and yearned from afar.” He finished with a giggle that took the sting out of his comment.
“Okay, not a bad summing up. Let’s start again. I’m Abby. How do you do? Will you be my friend?”
“Donny’s the name, and Abby, I would love to be your friend.”
They shook hands like two strangers meeting and the deal was struck.
***
The countryside was magical that summer. For some reason the specter of ‘Global Warming’ had not been able to cast a blight on the series of fine summer days. Donny introduced Abby to the joys of sailing, initially in his own dinghy.
Christchurch had been the ideal spot to teach her. Then after he had been convinced that she had grasped the rudiments of boat handling, they stepped up to his father’s 40ft ketch Swallow, the Elizabethan Class yacht with a deep keel and impeccable manners. She was kept at Parkstone on a mooring. Provided the tide was right they were able to sail off the mooring without too much effort. Usually they went with Donny’s dad. Sometimes, when he couldn’t manage to go, he would ask Peter Davey to go with them. Peter was the man who did any jobs on the boat for Mr. Weston and any other of the owners in the area. He was a quiet man in his late twenties. Donny thought he was odd, but harmless.
The run up to the summer holidays was occupied with the pair learning to sail the boat together as a team, and getting to know each other.
The possibility of taking the Swallow over to Brittany and down the coast to an overwinter berth in La Rochelle had been touched upon. It became very much a case of convincing Donny’s father that they were up to it. From Donny’s home in Ringwood access to Christchurch for the dinghy sailing and to Parkstone to sail the Ketch, was comparatively easy. Donny had a motorbike and he could pick up Abby from her home in Poole whichever way they intended going.
During those first weeks both had to adjust to having, for the first time in their lives, someone to talk to and confide in. It seemed they both were prepared to wait and see how things developed. Neither felt any pressure to rush matters. Because of this they became good friends from the very beginning.
Abby’s mother, Mrs.. Marshall, was a widow. Abby’s father had been killed in Afghanistan. He had been a Flight Lieutenant in the RAF, flying Helicopters. He had been shot down and killed in the crash, having served six months in the country.
Donny got the whole story when he questioned the picture on the sideboard in Abby’s home. He had assumed her lack of a father at home was down to the usual reason among most of the kids at school, divorce. In his own case his mother and father were still together after 24 years, and they were showing no signs of parting. His father was partner in a law practice he shared with his brother. Donny’s older brother, Michael, was articled to the firm, having gained his LLB at Sussex University.
Abby enjoyed visiting the Weston house. She was always made welcome. The family had reacted to the alliance between Abby and Donny with genuine pleasure. The fact that they were such good friends was obvious. They all treated her like the daughter they never had.
As the summer holiday loomed nearer, it was Abby who brought the subject up when the entire family were seated in the Conservatory, watching the rain fall after a long hot spell.
She spoke to the group at large, almost offhand. “When do you plan on taking the Swallow down to La Rochelle?”
Mr. Weston yawned and said, “When you’ve both finished with your exams I thought you could take her over to Cherbourg with Peter Davey.” Once you are there and moored up, Peter can get the ferry back. If I can’t get away immediately you could have a snoop around the Cherbourg Peninsula for a day or so. I can get the ferry across overnight and join you in the morning. How does that sound?”
Donny looked at Abby. In unison they said, “Fine.”
Abby said to Mrs.. Weston, “Will you be coming with us?”
“I’m sorry, dear. I would like to but I’m stuck with organizing the WI sale and a stall at the local summer show. I’m hoping that I’ll be able to join you later in the summer for the cruise down to Bordeaux and the North Spanish coast.”
“So there we are, all arranged no bother, pas de problemo,” was the way Dan Weston put it. Abby hugged Mr. Weston, excited at the prospect. Then she and Donny got kitted out to return to her home.
The house was quiet and empty when they arrived. There was a note on the kitchen table. ‘Abby and D, There is a casserole in the oven, just serve up two plates and stick them in the micro. See you about 9.00, Love, Ma.’
Having eaten, they went through to the lounge and lay on the floor watching TV. Abby shifted over and rested her head on Donny’s shoulder. “You don’t mind, do you? I’m getting a stiff neck on that cushion. Donny slipped his arm round her and gave her a hug. “Comfortable?”
“Yes.” The word came out like a sigh and Abby dropped off to sleep.
***
“Wake up you two. Donny needs to get home, you know.” Mrs.. Marshall’s voice brought them back to life in a hurry.
“Wow, it is nine o’clock already. Abby said “You’d better get a move on.”
Donny rushed out to the kitchen to get his gear on. He got a hasty kiss from both of them and left them standing on the step waving him off.
***
The days passed all too slowly that term. The rest of the class realized that Donny and Abby were an item and in the main left them to it. But there is always one. This was a boy called Roger Harris. He was not popular and he was a bully. He decided that the quiet couple would be an interesting target for his interest. He fancied Abby and thought he had chosen his moment when she would be alone. He had a thing about the short skirts and white blouses worn by the netball team. After netball he had noticed that Abby always changed her clothes rather than leaving it until she got home like most of the others. Netball was in the final periods of the afternoon.
Stationing himself outside the pavilion changing rooms he counted the girls who went in and came out. He worked out that Abby would be alone and carefully opened the door.
Donny came round the corner in time to see Roger’s back as he passed through the door. He heard the key click in the lock and realized what was happening. He ran quietly round the Pavilion to the front door and slipped in. There were voices coming from the changing rooms.
Inching open the door, he slipped into the vestibule and peered through the glass into the locker room.
Abby stood defiantly in bra and pants with her blouse in her hands. Roger was leering at her from the far entry. “Don’t bother dressing for me, darlin’. I prefer you with your clothes off.”
“Get out of here, you disgusting little oik.” Abby was not about to knuckle under to him.
Roger grinned nastily and stepped forward reaching out to grab her.
Donny stepped through the door at the other end of the room. “Anything I can do, Abby?” he said quietly.
Roger froze on the spot. This was not supposed to happen in his scenario.
Abby slipped the blouse on, watching Roger like a hawk. She was worried about Donny because Roger was a big lad. He looked dangerous to her. She carried on dressing while Donny walked forward to stand between Abby and Roger.
Worried, Abby said. “Don’t hurt him. The poor lad is probably weak in the head coming into the ladies’ changing room like this.”
Roger laughed. “You gotta be kidding. This little wimp couldn’t swat a fly.” He reached forward to cuff Donny round the face.
Donny grabbed the hand and wrenched it, swinging Roger round, thrusting his hand up his back forcing it between his shoulder blades.
“Here stop it. What…ouch.. let go.. You’ll break my arm.” This last was a whine.
“Listen to me, you disgusting toe rag. I’m being gentle with you because the lady asked me not to hurt you. I’ll make this short and sweet. If I come across you insulting or threatening a woman again, I’ll beat you so badly you will beg me on your knees to stop. I don’t like bullies, and bullies who threaten violence to my friends cause me to lose my temper. Am I getting through to you?” He jerked the hand a little more to emphasize his comment.
“I get it. I understand. Now please let me go.”
Donny let go and turned to Abby, “Whenever you’re ready.”
He saw the look of horror on her face and dropped to his knees. The hockey stick whipped past his head as it swung in a vicious blow that would have seriously injured him.
He didn’t wait this time. Springing to his feet he lashed out at the unbalanced Roger, hitting him hard on his jaw beside his ear.
The bully crashed to the floor, breaking one of the benches by the wall. Donny gripped him by the lapels and wrenched him to his feet. Roger was sobbing in pain. There was dribble from his half- open mouth. His nose was leaking blood where he had hit the broken bench.
“My patience is being stretched by your silly boy games. There will be a notice on the notice board in the school lobby when you leave. It will explain that you fell on the bench and it broke. It will also say you are sorry. And that you will pay for its repair. Nod, if you understand me.” He waited while the battered boy nodded.
“If there is any comment about what happened here, regardless of how it happens, I will hurt you. No more games like today or I will seriously cause you pain.” He dropped his hands. Leaving the boy swaying gently and still crying, he took Abby by the hand and they left the ladies changing room.
Chapter Two
Abby was taken aback. “I thought you were going to get clobbered by him when you came in. Don’t get me wrong. I was never more pleased in my life when you walked through the door. How did you know?”
“I saw him sneaking in through the other door and I heard him lock it. So I dashed round the front. You know the rest.” He was still trembling inside in reaction. He wasn’t sure whether it was elation or terror. He was happy that he had come out of his first fight in one piece. He now appreciated the training program that had concentrated on self discipline. It included unarmed combat techniques that gave them the practice in exercising their discipline. As their instructor had stressed more battles and contests are won with discipline than with enthusiasm. He had continued performing the exercises when he was selected for the basketball team simply because it seemed the easiest way to keep fit.
Abby said “He won’t tackle you again, not after that little episode. I’m so proud of the way you stood up to him. After all he is bigger than you.”
“He was going to attack you. He said so. I couldn’t allow that. I was just lucky, I guess. It was you that warned me about the hockey stick.” He squeezed her arm under his and the subject was dropped.
***
It did come up again however. When Abby was visiting the house at the weekend, they were both studying for their final ‘A’ levels that would mark the end of their schooldays. Both were intending going to University next year.
Donny winced as he knocked his knuckle against a chair leg. They were lying side-by-side on the floor posing questions to each other. Abby saw him and said, “I bet Roger hurts more than you do.”
“Who is Roger? And why should he hurt more than you? Have you been fighting?”
His father’s voice came from the armchair in the corner. Neither of them was aware he had come in and settled down with a book.
“You’d better tell me all about it, young man. Just in case I have to defend you on a charge of assault.” Mr. Weston sounded and was, quite serious.
So Abby rolled over, faced Mr. Weston and told him the story without any embellishment.
“Did the note appear on the Notice Board?” He asked.
“It certainly did.” Abby replied.
Donny was keeping his head down pretending to concentrate on his books.
Mr. Weston got out of his chair and sat down in front of them both. “This is the first time I have heard of Donald getting mixed up in rough stuff. He smiled “I’m proud of you, son. Whilst I’m also proud that you kept the whole business to yourself, in this day and age it might be better if you let me know in future if anything like this happens. Society today has gone crazy. People sue at the drop of a hat. I know you won’t seek trouble. But if it comes along just keep me in the loop, if you know what I mean.” He ruffled Donny’s hair and returned to his book.