Sunday, 28 January 2018

Robyn Hood

            The lady pushed her hair behind her ears and then slipped the incriminating photos back into the envelope. She knew of, but did not agree with the back-handers Jason had taken over the years; it was his infidelity and devious lies that cut her right to her core.
    “Damn you,” she muttered, and sitting forward looked from keyboard to screen as she attached the scanned images to the E. mail. Momentarily her manicured finger hovered over the mouse; she paused, took a deep breath and clicked send.       
*
            Councillor Jason Hood placed his Audi keys on the glass topped desk and took the post-it his P.A had stuck to the monitor. Don’t forget Robyn’s wedding anniversary present, table’s booked at Pierre’s 7.30 pm.
            Coffee in one hand and mouse in the other Jason navigated the cursor to the E. mail with, URGENT, in the subject bar.
    “What the …” he said, as he stared in disbelief at the images of himself and the wife of a prominent businessman in a compromising embrace, he read the text. Tomorrow, 7am usual routine, health suite, leave £10,000 in used notes in locker, swim, go to work, deviate from instructions your wife and newspapers will receive copies of images. Jason’s usual coolness of character left him as beads of cold sweat soaked his armpits. He felt sick to his stomach at the realisation that his rising political career was about to take a huge nose dive into oblivion if he did not act wisely. Robyn, well, he had to admit she still looked a charm on his arm, but he was starting to get quite bored of their marriage.
*
            Robyn put down her glass of Chablis and picked up her mobile from the table.
    “Jason?” Cheryl asked.
    “Yeah,” she said, then pressed reject.
Cheryl reached across and gave her friends hand a reassuring squeeze.
    “I’ll be fine, Cheryl, honestly”.
            Robyn sat back feeling relieved that she felt no guilt about the package containing ten thousand pounds she’d shoved through, ‘Night Shelter for the Homeless’ letter box earlier that morning.
            As they left the wine bar and crossed the road Cheryl heard her friend drop something, it hit the gutter with a clink before disappearing down the drain.
    “Robyn, you’ve just dropped something down the …”
    “Oh, it’s nothing, just a meaningless key I should have thrown out ages ago”.

Julian Clarke © 2017


14 comments:

  1. Ha... I wonder if there is not more money to milk from that man... but honestly it would have felt even better if he was exposed.

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    1. Hi Bjorn, thanks for your critque, as always it's much appreciated.

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  2. Interesting read this morning, disposing of the key perhaps it is time to try a new door.

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  3. Nice twist!

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  4. This definitely held my interest. I love where she donated the money. I was hoping it was her wedding ring going down the rain.

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  5. I wonder just how many politicians and would-be politicians have skeletons in their closet...quite a good few I reckon, whether male or female...
    Robyn did good giving from rich to the poor, but I reckon Jason got off pretty easy, as as Bjorn offered, Jason was ripe for the milking.
    But that said, Robyn didn't lower herself to the antics of her hubs, one cut of the knife was enough.
    A fine read Julian.
    Anna :o]

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  6. Whew - this was a great read. There are probably more situations like this one than we know!!! Nice fiction offering.

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  7. I agree with Sherry..thought it was the wedding ring for a moment.. I'm assuming the key meant that she had some intriguing relationship as well.. !!!

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  8. An interesting story - I thoroughly enjoyed the read

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  9. Yes! The key should have been tossed years ago.

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