Sunday 14 July 2013

THE LAST NIGHT - a short summer read for starcrossed lovers.

by Rosalinda Hutton

He sat on the edge of the hotel bed attempting to tie his shoelaces as she leaned her body close to his. ‘I can change’ she whispered breathlessly, ‘I’m learning all the time’. He turned towards her and held her face gently in his hands, looking closely at the desperation in her eyes. He was amused at her childlike attempts to please him, but he felt uncomfortable and threatened. He needed to calm her, to quieten her down. He leant towards her softly shooshing her fears with light butterfly kisses. Her lips responded and moved to meet his, but he broke the spell and turned to continue dressing. He toyed with his tie, occasionally allowing one hand to fall behind him to stroke and caress the seductive body, reclining sensually on the bed.

She had turned away from him and was lying on her back, her eyes now filled with tears. He looked down at her and spoke reassuringly. ‘Don’t ever change - I like you just as you are’. He spoke to her like a father, stern and masculine, and normally she would have melted. Normally she would accept whatever he said, she admired and looked up to him so much. She felt safe when he was with her, protected. She could see the pain in his eyes too, the overwhelming need, the love, the desire. Sometimes she thought he was as vulnerable as she was. She knew that what he said made sense, acknowledging their affair would wreck both their lives, she knew that, but yet?

He could sense a storm brewing, and he was anxious to avoid a scene. He playfully undid the button of his trousers and looked up at her bashfully with his hair flopping carelessly into his eyes. Ok it would make him a few minutes late, but he was starting to become worried.

She sat up abruptly, brushing his hands away. ‘I need a drink’ she muttered angrily, as she stumbled across the floor, trying desperately to hold onto her dignity. She was angry, she wasn’t going to let him get away with it, not tonight. She wasn’t prepared to stay in the background any longer. She was as good as his wife, just as good, in fact, she was better - she had made it on her own.

She needed more than this. She couldn’t bear to be alone any longer. The continual days of solitude that ran into each other as she waited for a brief phone call or a stolen afternoon. Never a night! Oh no, never a full night. She needed to feel his arms around her, to fall asleep with her body moulded into his. To share their warmth and their pain together. Why didn’t he feel the same!

He watched her walk across the room, struggling to walk straight and to hold her head high. He felt a mixture of pity, amusement... and lust! She had pulled the satin negligee back into place, and the folds of material rustled invitingly, the lace clinging to her voluptuous curves. She had poured herself another drink and had turned to look at him with her glass swaying unsteadily in her hand. He remained sitting on the bed and gazed up her sweet baby face. Her eyes were blotched with black mascara and her lips were puffed and swollen. Her blond hair was mussed up, sexually bedraggled. She looked pathetic and wanton. He could feel his groin stirring, the passion rising in his chest. He didn’t know whether to embrace her or hit her! He wanted to overpower her, to dominate her, to hate her. He didn’t know if it was anger or desire!

He wanted and needed her desperately, but having her would destroy him. He watched in silence as she gulped back the large glass of straight liquor, and he felt disgust and loathing, even for himself.

She turned back to the bar and poured another drink. ‘Leave her’, she mumbled. He heard what she had said but remained silent. He sat with his head hung down, his hands clasped together in desperation. Any previous feelings of passion he had were now overtaken by panic. She was becoming too clingy, even unhinged. In the past few weeks she had become more unstable, telephoning him constantly, day and night, even at his home. He was terrified of what she might do.

I can be like her, I can be anything you want me to be’. She was starting to scream so he rushed over and held her tightly in his arms. If only she would understand. He tried to pacify her, whispering into her ear. She had heard it all before, she knew the reasons. She wanted to understand, she wanted to be patient, to do the things he said, if only he would give her one last chance.

She knew in her heart that this was their last night, that she was losing him forever. He rarely returned her calls, those early heady days of passion were a distant memory, he had lost interest in her, he had moved on. She had had to beg him to meet her, for what she knew, would be one last time.

She buried her face into his strong chest, he smelt wonderful, the soft sensuality of his damp, freshly showered skin overwhelmed her senses. She could feel him pushing her away, but she held tight.

He was the most beautiful man she had ever met, and she had met many! He oozed power and confidence, something she had never had. At least not without the booze and pills. He was adored, idolised. Everyone who met him was instantly won over by his handsome looks and charismatic personality. Why should she be any different? Yet she knew she could be so good for him. The family would accept her, why wouldn’t they? if only she could have a chance to meet them!

They stood in the centre of the room, locked in an embrace. He breathed in the smoky, musky perfume of her hair, she smelt of their lovemaking and again he felt aroused. He was losing his resolve, but he knew too that the situation was getting out of hand, it was becoming too dangerous. He tried to push her away, slowly and gently, terrified that the smell of her might cling, and that he would need another shower. ‘The kids are too young’, he pleaded. ‘ I would be crucified’. She stepped back and looked at the defeated figure in front of her, she knew that she had lost him.

In her mind she searched frantically, clutching for a word or a reason to make him stay, anything that would mean this was not the end. ‘It doesn’t have to be everything - not straight away’. She banged her glass down onto the bar, ‘can’t we just be seen together... go to a restaurant!’ He looked up at her and smiled, half laughing, he spoke softly, ‘you know that’s not possible’. As he spoke there was a knock on the door and he walked back a few paces to acknowledge it. He watched her in silence, he didn’t know what to say, what could he say? She had poured another drink and was fumbling in her handbag for pills. She looked so sad. She tilted her head back in a dramatic gesture as she swallowed the tablets with huge glugs from her overfull glass.

He felt guilty as he walked towards the door, that was what she had wanted him to feel.

The voice from behind the door spoke urgently, yet softly, ‘we have to leave now Mr. President’. He turned back for one last look, she was struggling to maintain her stance and her dignity, gazing down at the mixture of pills in her outstretched hand. ‘Don’t drink vodka with them Marilyn’, he said, as he closed the door behind him.

WHY SUE? - Reply to Rachel

Hi Rachel. I really have tried to view this from the McCanns perspective - no matter what I think of them, they are a family who have lost a child. That pain is unimaginable and I am always aware that they have two young children.  Most people who speak about this case have pertinent questions, they are reasonable people who post responsibly.  The McCanns are always asking the public to help them, the public are entitled to ask why.

You asked how I would feel, should anyone defame myself and my book Cry and You Cry Alone.  A fair question.  Its not something that bothers me Rachel.  I spent 3 days in a witness box - everything about my life and my time in St. Anne's is documented.  I'm also delighted to tell my readers that I am meeting up with my beloved Mole, my childhood friend and best pal at St Anne's for the first time in 40 odd years. So happy to say that when we spoke on the phone we simply picked up where we left off all those years ago, and were giggling like 14yr old schoolgirls again!  There has been a spate of 'ex St. Anne's' popping up from the McCann camp to smear me, but they skidaddle as soon as they are asked to discuss the 'wonderful' nuns.  Should also tell you the former Uncle's activities are being investigated by Yewtree, so bring it on.

But I digress.  I think the McCanns legal actions are ill advised - they have become vexatious litigants - its not an endearing trait. In addition it seems to achieve the opposite of its (intended?) purpose. Basically it is the 'Streisand effect' in action.

What I struggle to understand Rachel is the fact that the McCanns have always had it within their power to 'make it all stop'. Such is life, we have seen many, many, tragedies over the years, most involved shun publicity, do their grieving in private and the media respect this. That option has always been available to the McCanns.  Their continuing this cash driven search for a needle in a haystack is something we ('the anti's') cannot comprehend.  Not only does Madeleine remain missing, but no other child has been rescued from lairs or otherwise during the 6 years this search has been going on.

Do the McCanns and their deranged supporters really want to hear that Madeleine has been chained up in a dungeon and sexually abused for the past 6 years?  Dear lord, are they all mad, or is it me?  The 'adopted by a childless couple' scenario falls dead in the water, due to the simple fact that the 'abductor' squeezed past two cots containing the choice of a boy baby or a girl baby, to pick up the walking, talking toddler who knew exactly who her mother and father were.  Old enough too, to scream blue murder if a stranger attempted to carry her out of a window.  Scotland Yard may well come up with an alternative believable scenario, we can only wait and see.

Meanwhile, the questions about this case will not go away until there is a conclusion Rachel.  Like most compelling mysteries, there's a huge audience out there who want a satisfactory ending. The McCanns cannot now complain about the huge audience - they created it!  And it is an audience they have fed, watered and nurtured this past 6 years.  The unprecedented publicity surrounding this case and the release of the original police files was bound to draw out all the armchair detectives, particularly as they began to discover that the story they were being fed by the UK media made no sense whatsoever.  If Gerry's wider agenda was to punish everyone who doesn't believe the abduction story, then he needs to go back to his whiteboard, because it is not sustainable.

In many ways the McCanns are the victims of their own success.  They have the wide audience they wanted, but inevitably, among that audience will be critics.  No-one can legislate against that.  And in civil actions such as these, the Defendants are like nine pins - as they get knocked down, others replace them.  Litigants caught up in multiple claims need limitless funds. and even then there is no guarantee of success.   Most people in the public eye accept that some of their audience may not like them, on the basis that you can't win them all. Threatening those who doubt them with 'public exposure' and putting them on 'Hate Lists' are the tactics of those with something to hide and does nothing to further the Search. Somewhere along the line, the lost Madeleine got lost all over again, as it stopped being about the missing child and turned into an internet war, the like of which we have never seen before.

You asked if I would sue if people defamed me.  In response, I must tell you that I worked for 20+ years as a legal secretary in the City of London and I have seen hundreds of litigants like the McCanns who believe they can 'solve all their problems' with legal action.  It always brings to mind, a short poem:

'Here lies the body of William Jay
who died maintaining his right of way -
He was right, dead right, as he sped along,
but he's just as dead as if he were wrong'.

Saturday 6 July 2013

What's Going On

I'm going demented trying to figure out what is going on.  Just as it seemed the end was in sight, we have the Portuguese Attorney General's Office denying all knowledge of a letter requesting judiciary assistance, while Scotland Yard have already lined up 38 persons of interest.   

Will the full facts of this case ever be disclosed? It would be hard for anyone to deny political interference, but we have had a change of government and any past indiscretions can be blamed on Gordon Brown, so there is hope.

On the dark side, Goncalo Amaral has said that Scotland Yard only want to investigate an abduction.  I struggle to get past that, as I do trust Goncalo Amaral and he has contacts within the PJ.  However, that was quite some time ago, and he has not said anything recently that I know of.  I also trust Joana's site, and if the Portuguese Authorities have said they have received no letter, then it must be presumed true and of course, it has now appeared in The Mail.  

Scotland Yard told us that they have made 16 visits to Portugal, and top prosecutors from the CPS flew out there too.  They must have gone to see someone!  If they are only meeting with high up officials, who are not keeping the force on the ground informed, then alarm bells must ring. 

I tend to think this case must have a conclusion.  If they wanted to bury it, that could have been done a long time ago.  We must also remember that the case was largely dormant for 4 years, in that 'no police force were actively investigating' - but that may have been part of the mccann spin.  It may also have been a case of the authorities wishing it would go away. 

That was never going to happen. The leading players love the cameras, and the cameras love them.  In fact, if we look at them dispassionately, as the walking goldmines they are, or think they are, we may get to the bottom of it - but not in a good way.  There are still millions to be earned from the Madeleine McCann name.  The dwindling sales of the tabloids get a boost every time they get the name 'McCann' into a headline and it may be good for a few years yet. Our leaders may appear to have climbed out of the press barons' beds, but I somehow doubt they have given up the mutual back scratching.    

Why was Richard Madley drooling over Kate? Is it because the McCanns and the Madeleys are awfully nice middle class people? Or could it be because like every journalist out there he would sell his grandmother and throw in a couple of kids, if he could get the breaking news exclusive.

Who knows how this case will end, but end it must.  It may be that Scotland Yard, like the PJ before them, will have had to investigate every other avenue, before re-interviewing them, perhaps they got lawyers to insist on it.  Whatever happens, when someone does stand in that witness box, the evidence must fit the story. 

And for anyone who wonders why I doubt the McCanns - it was because they never looked.