The door burst open as nurses ran into the room just as various beeps buzzes and alarms from the monitors filled the room.
Back in the side room Charlie sat powerless. His world was crumbling around him. Another nurse took him to the Specialist baby unit down the hall.
“It's been a rough start you understand Mr Cassidy, being born so early but he has surprised us all. He’s shown amazing resilience for one so small. He’s not out of the woods yet but god willing”
Charlie looked upon his newborn child in his incubator. Like his mother he had numerous machines keeping him alive. Another nurse came to the door and in the reflection of the incubator he could tell the discussion was about Trish. As a nurse put her hand to face in a gesture of sorrow while the other nodded and turned away. He knew what was going to be said and the nurse just placed a hand upon his shoulder.
His baby was all he had left. For reasons unknown to this day Charlie looked to the heavens and did three things he thought he’d never do. He accepted defeat, he prayed, and he begged.
“Ok god, you’ve done me, you’ve taken my heart, but please, don’t take my soul too!”
Maybe it was exhaustion, maybe divine intervention, whatever the cause, Charlie Cassidy fell asleep.
***
He woke to the singing voice of the day nurse starting her rounds.
“Does the little man have a name?” she said between lines of an unknown song.
“Sorry?” he asked bleary eyed taking in his surroundings. Perhaps she hadn’t been informed of last night’s events, she just was going about her business.
“Aww! He’s gorgeous you must be so proud, what a mother wouldn’t give eh? So what did you say his name was darling?”
“T?” said Charlie.
Li’l T was his nickname for Trish. “The love of my life... T” he added.
“Blimey!...I like coffee myself! Ta -Ta darling and congratulations” and with that she whisked out the door and disappeared.
“I guess T it is then.” thought Charlie.
Chapter 3
The Willington’s
Lord and Lady Willington had everything. In fact they had several of everything in several countries around the world. Money was in endless supply. They never knew how much they had. Property, private jets, pleasure boats and fleets of cars have a value that’s hard to count. The Willington’s only seemed to deal with new, crisp, large denomination notes. I doubt they were even aware that a £5 note existed and wouldn’t see the point of such a dismal figure. Maybe the £5 note was in circulation purely to be used to give tips to staff.
Some believe that Farely exists as a result of the mansion being built. The Willington's and the Farley families were the co-founders of what went on to become Farely City. The family home and the Paper Mill were built as a joint venture between the two. The Willington's providing the funds and the Farley's dealing with the construction of the mill. Back then the mill was situated within the grounds of Willington manor. The Willington's served as landlords, while the Farely household made their name in the paper business. However as time passed and the demand grew, a larger mill was needed. More money was borrowed in exchange for a larger share in the mill. The Willington's always had the upper hand with all business dealings. When you hold the purse strings, you tend to hold the power. Even in the early development of the booming city, the Willingtons dealings always ensured their financial gain over that of anyone else's. Friendships were strained and the cofounders found themselves on opposite ends of negotiations a little too often. The new mill, in its current location was the final nail in the Farely family coffin. Its construction was massively over budget, and a sudden rise in land rent and business rates almost put the mill out of business. That is of course until the Willingtons stepped in with a lifeline that secured the mill but at the same time made them the majority shareholders. When the head of the Farely household finally succumbed to the financial burdens of the mill, it's rumoured that the Lord of Willington manor at the time struck a deal over a game of poker. The one redeeming feature was that the small town would be known as Farely. The Lord of the manor was only interested in money and so Farely City got its name
Willington Manor had been in the family for over 500 years. Built by the first Willington’s to settle in what was back then, equivalent to national park land today. The Manor was immense and over the decades new wings were added by the Willington family. A virtual time zone, it took you back through history, from the present,right back to the original building. No part was demolished, it would be insulting to the Lord’s of the past to do so and as a consequence the manor was a living creature.
A house of that magnitude needed 100’s of staff. The staff needed 100’s of homes. From there the town flourished into the city it is today. The original parkland has been used as hunting grounds by the “Men of the Manor” for years. Today it contained man-made lakes, rock climbing mountain and off road assault courses. A firing range with fully automated shooting gallery. The demands had changed over the years somewhat and the current generation had no interest in painting a landscape unless it was with a paintball marker. That was Philly’s contribution. Philly had no interest in hunting unlike the boys of the Manor from days past. A successful hunt meant something had to die and she wanted no part of that. That doesn’t mean to say the Philly couldn’t handle a rifle. Following in her father’s footsteps she learnt to shoot, track and trap as soon as she could hold a rifle. A rifle, bow, a pistol or Philly’s favourite a handheld crossbow. In truth she had developed great skill while dual wielding a pair of these crossbows. She would have a target thrown into the air, with her hands by her sides. Then, in a blur, CLICK- CLICK. The target would fall to ground with two six inch bolts through it. She never missed. Silent and deadly.
Growing up her life at home was tedious. She had tutors to teach her at home during day and the house was rarely empty at the evening. Her father would be entertaining guests regularly. Foreign ambassadors, dignitaries, diplomats, and strangers from far away lands. Men of various races in bizarre clothing. At times her home was like a film set from spy movie. Was her daddy the arch villain? Hard to say for sure, but all the other men of wealth and power sat around the table and he, was at the head.
“Daddy is taking care of business” her mother would say as she would usher Philly out into a quiet wing of the house.
On one such night, Philly was being tucked into bed by her mother. There were staff to take care of this sort of thing, but Lady Willington insisted on doing this herself. Often the two of them would make up bedtime stories, taking it in turns to tell the next chapter as the story unfolded over several nights.
“So, where were we my darling?” she asked.
“The Princess was waiting to rescued from her tower Mummy!” came the excited reply.
“Of course, and who do we think should come to rescue the princess?" enquired Lady Willington.
“Um… Daddy of course Mummy and then… who’s Timmy?” asked Philly, suddenly looking puzzled.
Her mother was unaware that her locket had fallen open as she was tucking the blankets around Philly. The gold pendant had a photo of a newborn and engraved on the back the inscription read,
“My Darling Timmy”
Lady Willington knew this day would come and while they were telling stories, it seemed an ideal opportunity.
“When you was a young girl, Mummy and Daddy wanted to give you someone to play with. So one day, baby Timothy was born.”
“Did he live with us Mummy? Philly asked.
“Yes he did and one day when he went to bed, God decided he wanted a special friend too. So baby Timothy stayed asleep and God took him to his house instead.”
“Is Timothy an angel Mummy? Because God likes angels doesn’t he Mummy”. added Philly
“Thats right darling, he’s an angel, and one day we can all see him again.” Lady Willington was trying hard to hold back the tears.
“Couldn’t Daddy take care of business and bring Timothy back?” asked Philly.
The innocence of an 8 year old child was an amazing thing. Philly had no idea how painful this story was for her mother to tell.
“No darling I think God was lonely too, and besides, we have you don’t we” her mother added and tickled Philly’s ribs trying her best to lighten the mood.
“Is that why you and Daddy don’t kiss anymore Mummy?" enquired Philly.
“Thats enough questions for one night I think, don’t you?” stated Lady Willington.
Philly had obviously been aware of the decline in her parents relationship. Following the tragic death of their newborn, the Willingtons took different measures to cope with the pain.
Lady Willington had become an ambassador to several children’s charities, often selling family heirlooms at auction to raise funds. She felt little need for the abundance of treasures entrusted to her. She would attend functions and fund raising events as often as she could. On occasion, she would visit Warden Blake at the Farley Home for boys. Many times she had donated money to homes’ trust and had even helped re-home boys, paying for the foster care herself. It was on one such visit that Lady Willington had come to hear about T’s record. Her husband believed in giving people a second chance and having T around could become useful. Lord Willington came to terms with the fact that Ophelia was his only heir and wouldn’t risk any further trauma to his wife by trying for any more children. He was more than happy to support his wife’s charity work as it always looked good for other businessman to see the generosity they displayed.
Whilst she was in her early teens, Lord Willington would take pride in showing off his daughter any chance he got. One time he introduced her to a dark skinned man. He was missing his right hand and a jewel encrusted gold plate cover the stump where his hand should have been.
“This is Mr Valiyev from Azerbaijan. Do you know where that is Ophelia?”
He knew well enough that she did. Her private tuition was proving to be money well spent. Philly went on to greet the man in his native tongue before curtseying and being ushered off to her room to study.
Limousines came and went throughout the night. Helicopters would land or take off and speed boats would take guests from the private jetty back to the cruise ships waiting offshore. Occasionally discussions got heated and from her room several floors up Philly could hear slamming of doors, angry loud curses in strange languages she hadn’t heard off or at least learnt to curse with yet. Cars would screech out and down the driveway into the night. Her mother always came to her room for reassurance.
“Business is what Daddy does best darling, he just so happens to be better at it than most.”
“Is Mr Valiyev upset Mama?”
Lady Willington didn’t need to lie. Philly wasn’t stupid and had no doubt seen the foreign number on the car as it drove away.
“Probably my dear, I guess he has been shaking hands with the wrong people. The left hand anyway.” sharing the joke they said goodnight and by morning all was back to normal in the Manor.
Her father would go away from time to time. For weeks sometimes, and at short notice. Lady Willington never liked to be without her husband by her side. The grounds were patrolled by a small army of guards around the clock. Armed with fast acting tranquilizer dart firing weapons, Lord Willington wanted anyone with the audacity to enter his home uninvited to be able to explain themselves. One such would be assassin was captured trying to plant bombs around the grounds. He was caught, questioned, and even tortured until he revealed the name of the organisation he worked for. The Lord gave him a choice. He would have him flown first class back to his employer, in doing so sealing his fate. Or set him free in the parklands of the manor to make good his escape any way he can. The parkland was littered with booby traps, left by his great grandfather, and The Lord was a keen hunter. The captive wouldn’t last the night. It was important to give the impression of choice. Choice was just an illusion, you made an attempt on the Lord's family and now you were going to pay with your life, at a time of the Lord’s choosing. He had “Taken care of business”.
