Vauntless Ambition
It was a pleasant winter day in the Sussex seaside resort of Sandylook Bay, and Chris and Sophie Johnson were catching up with Sophie’s mother, Amanda, for Christmas.
Christmas was a bittersweet time for Chris and Sophie’s families, as Chris’ mother and Sophie’s father were both brutally murdered by armed robbers when they were ten. It was a bizarre coincidence, but a coincidence nonetheless.
But despite this, they were determined to enjoy the festive season, even with two fewer people around the Christmas dinner table.
“Geoffrey was more than welcome to come along if he wanted,” Amanda said to her son-in-law, Chris.
“No, no. Dad wanted to make sure Soph had as much time with you as possible,” Chris said. “We’re spending Christmas Day with him.”
“I should hope so, too,” Amanda said. “I can’t bear the thought of him spending Christmas alone, the poor man.”
“And yet you’re perfectly fine with spending it alone yourself, mother,” Sophie said.
”I’ll get by, so long as Geoffrey has his time with you,” Amanda said.
Amanda took a sip of her tea, but then the doorbell rang.
“Help yourself to more tea, darlings. I’ll just answer,” Amanda said.
Amanda quickly skipped out of the room, and Chris helped himself to some more Earl Grey.
When Amanda opened the door, a smartly dressed elderly man holding a Poinsettia stood outside.
He handed the plant to Amanda.
”Oh, how nice,” Amanda said.
She read the label on the plant, and her face fell.
”His Lordship wanted to give it to you himself,” the man said, “but he is still nervous about seeing you again, after so many years.”
”He really needs to get over me eventually,” Amanda said. “I made it quite clear that I couldn’t continue the relationship due to his allegiance to fascism.”
”He is waiting ma’am, should you change your mind,” the man said, “he always will.”
Amanda looked at the old man, not sure how to respond.
”A very merry Christmas, ma’am,” the man said, with a small bow, “and a happy new year.”
Amanda watched the old man retreat to his jet black Rolls Royce and drive off.
Confused, Amanda closed the door walked back into the living room.
“Sally invited us over to Alcester Hall after the Christingle service on Sunday,” Sophie said. “Should I accept her offer?”
”Yeah, ‘course,” Chris said, “that’d be great.”
Chris sipped his tea, and Sophie shot off a quick reply to Sally’s text.
Just then, Amanda entered the room, holding the Poinsettia.
Chris and Sophie looked up, admiring the blood red bloom of the plant.
”Ooh, that’s nice, mother,” Sophie said.
”It is, isn’t it? I just wish someone else sent it,” Amanda said, carefully placing the pot on a table next to Sophie.
”Why, who sent it?” Sophie said, examining the gold embossed label on the side.
My dearest Amanda. May I wish you the happiest of Christmases and a glorious New Year? Remember, I am still available should you
change your mind and wish to reconnect. Yours truly, Lord Christoph Flooding XXX.
”Christoph Flooding?” Sophie said, “he’s still not over you?”
”No,” Amanda said, “clearly marrying another man wasn’t enough to make him realise that I was done with him.”
”Well, he may have thought he had a change to rekindle what you had, considering Henry was murdered,” Chris said.
Sophie’”
Sophie’s eyes lit up as she drank her Earl Grey.
“You don’t think Christoph murdered him, do you?” Sophie said, “considering how angry he was when you started dating.”
Amanda laughed.
”No. I don’t think he would do something that drastic,” she said, sipping her tea.
”He is a fascist, Am,” Chris said, “and a psychopath.”
”I don’t think he’s the sort of man to murder his ex girlfriend’s new husband in a fit of jealous rage,” Amanda said.
”If you think so, Am,” Chris said, sipping his tea.
Amanda observed the Poinsettia.
”It’s a lovely gift and I’m grateful for Christoph for giving it to me. But he really must move on eventually and it’s time I forgot about him as well,” Amanda said.
Amanda glanced at her watch. “Right, I’ll put the cooking on, shall I?”
Without waiting for an answer from her daughter or son-in-law, Amanda vacated the room.
Sophie studied the Poinsettia.
”So you do think there’s more to your dad’s murder than meets the eye?” Chris said. “Just as I think mum’s murder wasn’t just a matter of her being in the wrong place at the wrong time?”
Sophie sipped her tea.
”It’s a distinct possibility, considering the circumstances,” Sophie said, “but it could just as likely be a coincidence.”
Chris looked at his wife blankly for a moment, shrugged, and helped himself to some biscuits.
Meanwhile, 168 miles away in his toasty library, Lord Christoph Flooding awaited some news.
“Has the recipient accepted the package?” Christoph said.
”Willingly, my lord,” the old man, Christoph’s ever loyal butler, Bert, said, “but she and I agree that it’s time you looked for love elsewhere.”
”NONSENSE!” Christoph said, banging his hand on a nearby table.
”I know that it was a pleasant university fling,” Bert said, “but it has been nigh on thirty years, my lord. It’s time to move on”
”Her relationship with that cretin, Anderson, was a university fling, and she married him, didn’t she?” Christoph said.
“Clearly they were more compatible, my lord,” Bert said.
“I don’t see what she saw in the man,” Christoph said. “She was clearly more on an intellectual par with myself.”
“Perhaps. But he was more likely on a similar political par with her, my lord,” Bert said.
Christoph grumbled. “That was her only flaw. Her failure to see that fascism is and always will be the order of the day.”
”If you say so, my lord,” Bert said.
”But I am willing to overlook that, should she wish to come crawling back to me,” Christoph said.
”Somehow I don’t see that ever happening, my lord,” Bert said.
Christoph did not respond. Instead, he gazed into the fire.
“Get me a bitter shandy, Bert,” Christoph said.
”As you wish, my lord,” Bert said, slowly vacating the room.
Christoph continued to stare into the fire, thinking about the woman he just couldn’t shake off his mind.
To read more about Chris and Sophie, please read:
To read more about Christoph Flooding, please read:
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