Peter, June and the Whatevers!

"Oh, I needed you, alright, lover! I still do if it comes to that! But those whatevers' have their silly rules. We'll meet again soon, I'm sure!" June replied, then she kissed me full on the lips and bloody vanished again.

Almost at the same instant that she had disappeared, the Porsche's engine roared into life and it took off at breakneck speed; without any lights on.

"Yeah, and that won't draw attention to yourself, will it June?" I found myself saying to the empty heath.

Getting back to my car I drove back home, but left the vehicle hidden away in the staff cark park behind the museum where I work. It was my habit to leave it there if I as going out drinking during the evening, and sometimes when I went up to town on weekends. So I figured that no one would remember whether it had been there all that weekend or not.

Then I walked the three miles to my home, via every back cut and double I could think of; in the hope that no one would see me passing.

Well think about it? A millionairess' current, and her ex husband are together on the cliff top at a popular beauty spot. One of them, the millionairess' current husband, somehow ends-up dead at the bottom of the cliff! Add to that, the fact that the ex-husband had reportedly been behaving very strangely during the previous week.

Now you tell me, what are the courts are going to make of that little collection of unfortunate coincidences? Maybe they couldn't prove murder; but I'll bet that they'd have a bloody good shot at manslaughter! Consequently, I had good reason to keep my movements as secret as possible on my way home that evening... morning.

When I did arrive home, spiritual June was waiting for me. She informed me that her other self was beginning to show signs of regaining her composure. I translated that into 'regaining consciousness!' June had always insisted that that spiked drink back at the Uni party, had just... un-phased her for a while. I'd carried her back to her flat that night; she was out cold and/or in cloud-cuckoo-land at least, most of the time!

Anyway, after assuring me that June was safe, spiritual June gave me a kiss that made my toes curl and quite literally lifted me off of my feet. Then she said "Bye, Peter! See you soon!" and was gone.

I never laid eyes on the spiritual manifestation of June again.

-------

It was almost three weeks before the story hit the newspapers in a big way. There had been mention of Frank's disappearance, no more than a few lines on the inside pages of the dailies. But then, his body was discovered lying hidden in amongst the rocks at the bottom of the cliff.

I hadn't got the newspaper headlines quite right. They went along the lines of, 'Troubled husband, of society millionairess, commits suicide by throwing himself from cliffs at popular beauty spot!' or variations that ran on a very similar theme, anyway.

It had taken the authorities considerably longer than I'd expected, for them to locate Frank's remains. They'd discovered a hire car first -- one that had been rented in Franks name several weeks before -- hidden in a field about a mile or so inland, back from the cliff. I would suppose that the official search had fanned out from there.

I have to admit, that I had wondered how Frank had been planning to get away from the scene, after he'd committed his dirty deed.

Unlike the situation I'd been in for the previous few years, I wanted to read every word the papers had to say about June. June being the more famous of the two, no story or news bulletin ever failed to mention June first, when reporting fact or fiction concerning Frank, and/or his life and death.

It would appear that following someone like Frank's demise, the media felt free to print just about any accusations about the man, they saw fit.

One of the first things that was reported (besides his actual death) was that his marriage to June was rumoured to be on the rocks and apparently had been for some considerable time. Probably sensing that an acrimonious divorce had been on the cards, I believe the papers assumed that June wouldn't sue over anything nasty they printed about Frank

There were plenty accusations made that Frank had only married June in order to gain access to some financial support from her. Always made by an unidentified person, who supposedly was close to June and/or Frank.

Those accusations were remarkably similar to the ones made about myself around the time of June and my divorce.

But after reading numerous newspaper articles, I gathered that Frank was considered by some pundits to be a bit of a con-artist. It was said that he was either that, or the worst businessman since creation. No one seemed to know for sure; but they did say that whatever companies Frank got involved with -- business wise -- rapidly crashed and burned. Although somehow Frank always appeared to land (roughly) on his feet... financially!

But those same articles also reported that Frank was a very handsome man. Who'd reputedly been blessed with a personality that could charm the birds from the trees! Hence the various, con-artist or business failure labels. I really don't think any of the media knew for sure which way the wind blew!

I, of course, was trawling though those articles, looking for any detailed information they had about Frank's death. I still did not know if anyone had spotted mine or June's cars, or even myself on the cliff top that evening. But it soon became apparent that if anyone had, they weren't talking to the police or newspapers about it.

There wasn't even mention of the petrol can that the Spiritual June had dropped on the cliff edge as she stopped me following her late husband. But, with the price of fuel nowadays, I didn't find that too surprising.

It was said that on the night Frank disappeared. June herself claimed that she had fallen asleep in a chair while watching television. When she awoke later that evening June found that her husband was no longer in the house. When he had not reappeared by the following morning, and after finding his car in the garage; June had called the police to report him missing. There appeared to be no suggestion that June had anything to do with Frank's disappearance or death.

It was variously suggested -- by a few of the newspapers -- that Frank had probably met with either a lady friend, or a business associate on the cliff top that evening. But at the inquest the police report said they thought he'd made his way there alone, and that he had committed suicide.

The coroner was informed that several large creditors had been pressuring Frank of late for the immediate repayment of loans. They also said that June's companies had refused to settle those accounts on his behalf, or extend Frank any more credit themselves.

The inquest verdict was, that Frank had taken his own life, "while the balance of his mind was disturbed" and the case was effectively closed.

I saw mention of a private funeral, but I didn't 'push my luck' by attending.

I suppose I figured that was the end of the incident and I very much doubted that I'd see or hear from June again.

-------

It was almost three months after the inquest. Having stopped off on the way home at the pub for a pint and a bite to eat, saving myself bothering to cook. I arrived home around nine fifteen PM. I'd just settled myself in front of the TV when the doorbell rang.

On opening the front door I was confronted by June; who stood there staring at me.

"Hi June, long time no see! Would you like to come in?" I asked.

I wasn't really sure how to play things, because the June on my doorstep didn't have that 'devil may care' aura about her that the 'Spiritual' June had had.

"Thank you, Peter; I would if you don't mind." She replied and stomped past me going went straight into the lounge.

Of course, June knew her way around the house; it had been our house at one time.

"It's about time you up-dated some of this furniture, Peter!" She commented, taking a seat on what had always been her armchair. "Some of it's looking a little dated..."

"June, you didn't come here this evening to advise me on the condition of my décor. Now, what can I do for you?" I interrupted her.

Well, this was the serious June. The June whom I'd happily (if acrimoniously) divorced some years before. Not that scatterbrain fun loving June (much, much closer to the woman I'd married) who'd made a naked appearance in my bedroom some months previous. You know, I'd really missed that June since she'd been gone again.

"My husband killed himself a while back, Peter!"

"I could not fail to notice that fact, June. It was plastered all over the TV and newspapers for weeks on end!"

"Yes, I found it quite embarrassing!"

"I don't doubt you would, June. But what has that got to do with me and why your unexpected arrival here this evening?"

"Do you have dreams, Peter?"

"Sure I do; everyone does, don't they?"

"Well, since Frank's death I've been having some very vivid and confusing dreams. And I'm not one for dreaming, Peter; I never have been!"

"Oh, everyone dreams June. It's just that some people don't recall what they've dreamed about when they wake-up."

"Well, I have been recalling my dreams since Frank's death, Peter!"

"Anything significant?"

"To do with you, you mean! And yes, you do seem to feature in nearly all of them."

June looked me straight in the eye.

"And I have reason to believe that you know why you're in my dreams, and I've also come to believe that you might be able to explain them to me!"

"Oh come-on June! How could I know about your dreams?"

"Well, I suppose you could start, by explaining to me exactly what you were doing on that cliff top the night Frank died, Peter!"

"I have no idea what you are talking about June!"

"Peter, before we were married I watched you play rugby, more times than I care to remember.

"It was cold, wet and often extremely boring. But there was a part of every match that is burned into my memory. That was when my fiancé got hold of the ball and... well, charged towards the opposing teams goal thingy, wailing like a banshee."

"I didn't wail, June! I... yelled at the top of my voice. Not strictly politically correct, but it was supposed to instil fear and confusion in the opposition; and disorientate them. Sometimes I'd even rush at them yelling, when one of the others members of our team had the ball; that really did confuse the buggers."

"Peter, on the night my husband disappeared, I told the police I was at home sleeping in a chair. And to be honest with you, for a while I did believe that I was speaking the truth. However, I had a strange dream that night while I was sleeping in that chair. I heard you making that noise again. And, I seem to recall seeing you run past, quite close by me, to be precise. You were dressed in that same get-up you're wearing now."

"This is my best archaeological consultant gear, June! I wear it most of the time."

"Peter, I'm now convinced that I didn't sleep in the chair all evening. I don't sleep in chairs anyway and I'm not completely out of my mind. That night I saw and heard you! Now will you please explain to me what you were doing there and how I came to be on that cliff top as well? I'd also like an explanation of how I got home again. I have a vague recollection of getting out of the passenger seat of my Porsche, so I'd like to know who drove it, was it you? It will go no further than these four walls, Peter; I promise you!"

"You promised me lots of things once June, only to withdraw those promises eighteen months later!"

"I think it better that we keep this conversation away from the mistakes we've both made in our lives, Peter."

"Okay, I was there that night to save your life; but as it turned out, you saved mine!"

June just stared at me for several minutes and then said. "Yes I know I did! But I dreamed about that much later; I stopped you tumbling over the cliff that night! But how could I if I was all but..."

"There were two of you there that evening June! The you, who was almost comatose sitting in the front seat of your Porsche, and another spiritual version of yourself! Who was there for the sole purpose of ensuring that Frank did not succeed in his plan to murder you!

"The spiritual June dragged me along -- kicking and screaming, I might add -- just in case she needed any help.

"Silly really, she was you! When have you ever needed anyone's help but your own?"

Once again June sat there staring back at me. Her body language told me that she was thinking, but it couldn't tell me what she was thinking. June was obviously turning something over in her mind.

Then -- after what seemed an age -- she apparently came to a decision. June, needed to use the loo!

"Peter. May I use your bathroom, please?" she suddenly asked

"Sure, you can June. You know where it is; nothing has changed up there either." I replied with a grin. "Would you like a cup of tea or coffee or something? I can make while you're er... well, I can make it..."

"Yes, I think maybe I would like something... have you any wine?"

"Oh yeah, June. I've had it on the rack in there for some years now? I never was partial to drinking wine alone; you know that!"

"Yes, I remember, Peter. I think a small glass would be much appreciated right now. Perhaps you'll have one too?"

"I'll stick to scotch, June; I haven't got to drive home later, remember!"

June smiled -- that bleeding smile of hers -- then -- picking up the large carrier bag she'd brought with her -- she headed for the bathroom.

I nipped into the kitchen to locate where I'd stashed those bloody bottles of plonk. I'd failed completely to read any... ambiguity of intention, in June's request for a glass of wine.

After an inordinately long wait in the kitchen -- I'd planned to meet June as she came back down the stairs -- I heard her call my name from the landing.

"Yeah, I'm here June. Is there something wrong?" I asked moving to the bottom step.

"I've got something for you here, Peter!" She replied, and her hand appeared over the landing balustrade holding a manila envelope."

"What is it?" I asked, fearing another court summons.

Oh yeah, our divorce had been pretty acrimonious and June had been forever having me served with one summons or another. It had really slowed down the divorce procedure.

"And of course, I got this for you, as well!" June said moving into my view on the top step, wearing nothing but -- a very familiar looking -- tiny bra and thong. In one hand she held that envelope, in the other, what looked like a pair of jeans and a white blouse."

I found myself in a surreal situation, standing at the bottom of the stairs staring up at June and wondering... Well, that bra and thong were surely the ones the Spiritual June had magicked herself into that first day. And the jeans and blouse... Well, I was wondering, how the hell could this be happening?

"I didn't bother to struggle into the jeans, Peter." June giggled, "I'm sure you wouldn't want to wait while I took the things off again."

"June, you say you dreamed about stopping me going over the cliff?"

"Yes!"

"How much else have you been dreaming about?"

"Oh, I should imagine... Just about everything, Peter! You know in a lot of my dreams you didn't even realise that I was there with you."

"And you've had all of these dreams since your husband died?"

"They started that night I had that dream sitting in the chair, Peter. The night that Frank disappeared! I really can't be sure exactly when Frank died. But I believe that maybe you can be!"

"Anyway, I've been having those dreams somewhat repeatedly ever since. Mostly the same dreams over and over again. Finally I realised that someone... or something, has been trying to tell me something. And I've only just realised what they were trying to tell me!"

"Well, to be honest with you, Peter; that isn't strictly true! I believe I worked it out a couple of months ago; and I dearly hope I haven't got it wrong. But I had a lot of preparation to do before I tested the waters, so to speak! I sort-of suspected that I'd only get one chance at this, so I thought it best to get everything prepared, first!"

"Some of those dreams were great fun though. Embarrassing you when you forgot yourself... remember that café where you have breakfast everyday. All that fried food, Peter; surely it can't be good for you! And then that head through desk game as well, you should have seen your face. And there were the other times when you were talking to yourself.

"It all was such great fun, Peter; just like we always had together when we were at university. You know, I'd forgotten that you have to have fun in your life."

All the while she'd been speaking, June seemed to be waving that envelope; as if she was trying to draw my attention to it.

"What's in the envelope June!" I eventually asked; quite sternly I think.

"Plane tickets to Florida! There, we can board my grandfather's motor yacht and then the worlds our oyster!"

"June, you are kidding me?"

"Oh no Peter, I am not. I don't understand what happened and I can't begin to comprehend why it happened. I wasn't even sure that my dreams were making any sense at all. But the fact that somehow, I actually did spend that week... tormenting you. Well, shall we say, I realised that beneath it all, you still loved me. And I, Peter; I still love you!"

"So you say, June. As you did, at the altar that day! And you know, for a while, I actually did believe that you really did love me! But then you got lost in your business empire and you began to think of me, as some kind of ornament."

"Yes I know that I did, Peter, and I'm sorry. But I'm not lost in it anymore, I've got people I know and can trust running everything. They'll have to keep me briefed of course... I calculate that it'll take up about one day of my time every month or so. The rest of the time, it'll be just you and me Peter. And those ancient ruins and things you were always saying that you wanted to visit."

"Are you serious, June?"

"Peter, I've never been more serious about anything in my whole life. If I have my way it's going to be just you and me from now on, Peter. Plus a few ancient ruins and eventually the children of course!

"Now, am I going to stand here all night and catch my death of cold? Or is that little brain of yours going start making some sensible decisions?"

The little brain took precedence -- as June knew it eventually would -- and I began to climb the stairs. But only after, I'd returned to the kitchen to collect the rest of that bottle of plonk. That way I could be sure that someone wasn't going to be driving home that night!

-------

Our lives have progressed predictively since that evening. We did get married again, and we've visited ancient ruins all around the world. Now that we have settled down in Kent and the two-point-four children are next on the agenda.

As the time passed, June related quite a few of her dreams to me in detail; but curiously she has never mentioned the Whatevers. You know, I very much suspect, that if I mentioned them to June; she'd have no idea what I was talking about!

Life goes on.

Please note, this story has been posted on this site by R.B. (December 2012) with the author's kind permission.

The author informs me that the inspiration for this yarn came from a re-showing of the 1946 film "A matter of Life and Death" ("Stairway to Heaven" in the USA) on daytime television