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    Needful (Remastering Jerna #3)
    Needful (Remastering Jerna #3)
    Needful (Remastering Jerna #3)
    Ebook369 pages4 hours

    Needful (Remastering Jerna #3)

    By Ann Somerville

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    About this ebook

    Illness in Jerna's family has put his relationship with Ria under massive strain, but just as he hopes to rebuild things, school bullying threatens both his older daughter's happiness and his precious time with his lover. Ria struggles to understand the needs of a father and his children, but when Ria's former lover, Orlan Gomici, turns up, his mischief making puts Ria's relationship with Jerna under even more stress.

    Annoyance turns to anxiety when Orlan is suspected of multiple murders, and his newest lover - Sila - comes under attack too. Jerna, Ria and Sila must put personal needs aside and work together to clear Orlan's name and stop more women being killed.

    This work is a sequel to "Games & Consequences", and is the third and final book of the "Remastering Jerna" series.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherAnn Somerville
    Release dateMar 11, 2012
    ISBN9781476496115
    Needful (Remastering Jerna #3)
    Author

    Ann Somerville

    Ann Somerville is white, Australian, heterosexual, cisgendered. She/her.

    Read more from Ann Somerville

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      Book preview

      Needful (Remastering Jerna #3) - Ann Somerville

      Needful

      (a sequel to Remastering Jerna and Games & Consequences)

      Ann Somerville

      ‘Needful’ Copyright © 2005 by Ann Somerville

      Cover image © pio3 via Fotolia.com

      All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

      For more information please visit my website at http://annsomerville.net

      Smashwords Edition 2, May 2015

      Smashwords Edition, License Notes

      This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

      Published by Ann Somerville

      Chapter 1

      "You know, there’s this obscure custom in some parts of the world called ‘going home in the evening.’ In primitive regions, I believe the real degenerates actually go out and enjoy themselves at the end of the working week. Shocking, I know, but I read about it in the newspaper so it must be true."

      Sila looked up and grinned ruefully at Kev. Really? Wouldn’t know myself. It’s not like I have plans to set the town on fire.

      Her colleague stepped back and spread his arms. "Hey, my fascinating weekend plan involves laundry. And Edi has a metball fixture. But—and this is the really big one—on Grace day, I’m regrouting the bathroom."

      Sila clasped her hands dramatically to her chest. No, honestly? I’m surprised you can contain the excitement.

      Yes, I surprise myself too. But seriously, you should knock off.

      I know, I just thought I’d read these reports—

      Kev picked the folder out of her hand and made a pretense of scanning it. Hmmm, let’s see. Blah blah big bad criminal dirty money blah blah we suspect don’t know blah blah.... Oh yes, this is enthralling.

      She snatched it back from him. Better than counterfeit notes any day.

      Anything’s better than counterfeit currency, but when you get change and the notes are all genuine, you’ve got yours truly to thank for it, and don’t you forget it, he said, wagging his finger at her. He turned serious. Come on, Sila. Every Waring day, you leave after me. Just once, go home on time.

      You’ve got a reason. Your boys need you.

      My boys need me to make supper and bathe them, you mean. You could come over, if you like. I miss cooking for adults, and I make a mean dish of battered fish.

      I like it in breadcrumbs.

      I can do crumbed, he said eagerly. I’m multifunctional.

      It was tempting, she had to admit. Kev had it rough, and looking after three small boys on his own wasn’t something she envied, but it had been so long since she’d had a family meal and spent time with children....

      Thanks. Maybe another time.

      He adopted a hangdog expression. You’re rejecting me because of my fish. Damn, I knew I should have offered pasta.

      Your fish is fine. I’m just not feeling sociable and it’d be unfair to inflict that on your children. Ask me again some other time. I won’t turn you down.

      His big smile showed off his nice teeth, and his usually slightly harried face looked years younger. It’s a deal. I’ve got to go. Don’t stay too late.

      I won’t. See you on Leaven day.

      The office was a much duller place after Kev’s departure, and for a moment or two, she was tempted to call him back and accept the invitation. But she really wasn’t feeling sociable, and Kev’s boys were probably jealous of every second with their father. She didn’t want to intrude. At least he had them and they had him. They’d kept him going, he’d said, after the death of his young wife from cancer. At least he still had a reason to go home, and there would always be someone there to greet him. It made a difference, knowing one wasn’t alone.

      She grimaced, hating the self-pitying track her thoughts were sliding into. It was one reason she usually worked so late. Reports and investigations distracted her, and despite Kev’s mockery, the report she was reading was interesting. Sort of.

      She decided to check her com messages. There was one from her youngest brother, telling her about his new girlfriend—‘thanks, brother of mine’, she thought, ‘rub it in, why don’t you?’—and one from Javin, suggesting lunch the following week. She missed working with Jav, though not that actual job so much. The permanent commission was a damn sight more interesting, not to mention better paid. He was looking to switch jobs too. She always had her ear out for any decent part-time posts within the commission for him. They needed him on their team.

      She looked up as she heard footsteps—Inspector Solmano, apparently looking at a file and ignoring her.

      But only apparently. Inspector Poucilne, it’s six thirty. What are you still doing here?

      Reading some reports on the Griet case, sir.

      Hmmm. Some crisis I was unaware of? Some breakthrough you’re about to reveal to me? His sharp grey eyes pinned her as he waited for a response.

      No, sir. I was just making sure I was aware of all the details.

      "Right. I’m going out to dinner in fifteen minutes. By then I want your desk straightened, your com off, and you on a bus back to your home. I don’t mind people working late when there’s actually a need, but this is the office, not your apartment. Learn to tell the difference, and you’ll enjoy both a lot more."

      Yes, sir, she said stiffly, closing the folders on her desk and putting them into her filing cabinet.

      Don’t you have plans for the evening, Sila? Most people your age do, on Waring day.

      No, sir.

      Pity. I prefer my staff to work to live, not live to work. I find they don’t burn out so fast. Staff Control reminded me today you’ve got five weeks’ leave still to take this year, in addition to two from last year that you didn’t take. They were concerned that I apparently hadn’t giving you a chance to take time off, which I found odd when I’d had no requests for leave from you at all.

      She flushed. Sorry, sir. I just don’t have a reason to, and I can’t afford to go away on holiday.

      "Fine. But I’m ordering you to find time between now and the end of the year to take all your accumulated leave."

      Seven weeks, sir? But there’s only four months left in the year!

      He looked down his nose at her and tsked. All right. Take at least half, the rest to be taken by mid next-year. I’m serious. I know you want to do well in this job, and we all appreciate your efforts. But I expect my employees to be well-rounded and balanced people. If you spend all your waking hours here, you won’t be. I believe the staff club has some good deals on cheap shared holidays. Look into them. Getting out of this bloody city will do you good.

      Yes, sir.

      Then that’s clear. Now, turn that thing off and get your coat. You can walk me out.

      She maintained a polite demeanour until they parted company outside the building, him to catch a taxi, she to wait at the bus stop, but inside she was fuming. She didn’t want to take leave if it meant sitting in her flat for a week or more twiddling her thumbs. What did he expect her to do, crochet? She was saving up to buy her own apartment. She didn’t want to waste money on holidays in which she had no interest with people she didn’t know, or to spend even more time in her own company of which she already had had more than enough, thank you.

      The quiet, cramped dullness of her tiny flat mocked her as she flung open the door in a temper.

      Hello, everyone, I’m home, she sang out.

      Silence greeted her as it always did. Maybe she should get a cat. Oh, right, she was allergic to cats. And dogs took up too much room, and fish were...food. There was barely enough room for her in here. Where would she keep a pet anyway?

      At least thriftiness meant she cooked in batches, so when she came home in a mood and didn’t feel like making a meal from scratch, she always had something in the freezer. She pulled something out at random, noted it was a lasagne, shoved it in the oven to cook, and decided it was a night for a rare glass of wine. She had a small store of bottles—gifts, mostly—which she hardly ever touched, but she decided she would treat herself to a fine red, part of a case sent on her last birthday by Ria Kezime.

      ‘I bet he has plans for this evening’, she thought, slightly ungraciously, as she opened the bottle. But as she sniffed the fruity bouquet, she forgave her wealthy friend for his better fortune. It wasn’t Ria’s fault she was sitting here, toasting her non-existent social life with wine she wouldn’t buy for herself. She’d had an offer of battered fish, after all. She’d turned it down. This evening was hers alone by choice.

      Strangely, that really wasn’t that much of a consolation.

      ~~~~~~~~

      Papa? What’s ‘here...heri...I don’t know how to say it.

      Jerna smiled, turned in his chair and leaned towards Neras. Show me the word, darling. Oh—‘hereditary’. That means when you get something from your parents.

      The eyes in her pale face showed confusion. Like a birthday present?

      No, more like...you know that necklace Mama wears sometimes? The purple one with the yellow stones?

      Neras nodded. Her prettiest one.

      Well, Mama’s grandmother left that to her when she died. So it’s like a gift, but you get it when someone older than you dies in your family.

      She clutched her book close to her chest. Oh. Are you going to die, Papa?

      He stroked her short hair, finally growing back in fine curls. Yes, darling. Everyone will. But not until I’m very old, I hope. He bent and kissed her forehead. Don’t get upset about it. What are you reading that’s hereditary? He wanted to distract her. Talk of death or illness would do anything but depress her, and right now, it was far too close to the bone for him.

      I don’t know, she said a little petulantly. Kings and queens.

      Are you learning about Contanza? Hereditary monarchs?

      Yes, but it’s boring and I’m tired.

      He stroked her hair again. You do look a little tired. Have a break for a bit. I’m going to have one. How about we both have some juice and a cookie? Grandmama’s made some chocolate ones.

      Yes, please.

      Do you want to get it, or shall I?

      No, I will. I want to get up.

      All right, but ask Grandmama to get the tray down. No climbing on the chairs. Her balance still wasn’t perfect, and she was prone to light-headedness. He didn’t want a cracked skull on top of everything else they’d been through this year.

      No, I know. Eljira would have wrinkled her nose at his caution, but Neras only nodded seriously at the warning.

      He kissed her again. That’s my girl.

      He smiled as she climbed off the couch and went in search of food. She’d been so good, and he could tell when she was tired because she got that whiny tone. Neras wasn’t normally a whiny child at all. Not that she hadn’t had more than enough to whine about if she was inclined. Losing her hair and months of painful treatment would make anyone complain, let alone a ten-year-old girl, but she’d tolerated all the indignity and suffering with amazing calmness. He would happily let her eat as many cookies as she wanted, for the joy of knowing she was going to be there to eat them.

      He got up and stretched. He disliked sifting through dozens and dozens of applications, generating a standard refusal for the vast majority. They couldn’t automate the process. There was too much of a risk of missing someone decent just because their application didn’t have the right key words or the form was incompletely filled out. Being perfect at forms didn’t make for a good employee in their business, or vice versa. At least he could do this part at home, and give his mother a day to herself when she didn’t have to look after Neras in the afternoons. She didn’t mind, but she’d done her childrearing. Besides, being with Neras was a pleasure, and not one, after the dreadful time they’d just had, either he or Tyrme would ever take lightly.

      He opened up the doors onto the sundeck. The earlier rain had cleared. Eljira would be home from school soon, and he might take the girls down to the beach. If he carried Neras back, she should be all right. They’d missed nearly all the summer because of her illness. He wanted them to have some fun before the weather turned colder, and he’d worked late last night when he’d got back from Serelto, so he was caught up. He could take a couple of hours off without feeling guilty. His whole life was about shuffling his obligations around, but he could only do one thing well at a time, and now was his children’s time with him. Later it would be Tyrme’s, and hopefully, on Grace day evening, he could catch up with Ria before they both had to start work for the week. There was just never enough of him to go around for all the people who loved him and wanted to be with him. It made him feel needed, of course, but occasionally he felt a little frayed around the edges.

      But not this afternoon. It had been a quiet day, and after the hectic week he’d had, it had been a blessing.

      Papa?

      He turned. Neras stood carefully holding a tray, and behind her, trying not to help but still looking worried, was his mother. Oh, thank you, darling. Let me. You and Grandmama sit.

      He made his daughter giggle by going on one knee and serving her as if she was one of the queens which had bored her so, then sat on the floor and bit into one of his mother’s excellent cookies. These are delicious, Mama, but I’d be fat as a pig if I ate these all the time.

      You were always greedy for them, she said, smiling at them both. But I always told my patients a little of what you fancy is good for you, isn’t it, dear? She chucked her granddaughter under her chin.

      "Yes, Grandmama. I would eat hundreds of these if I could."

      Just like your Papa. But I don’t think that would make you a big strong girl—just big, she teased, tapping Neras’ nose and making her laugh.

      Mama, Neras has been learning about the monarchs of Contanza. I thought you might help her.

      Why, of course, son, she said, looking pleased to be asked. His mother, like the rest of them, had been worried sick about Neras for months. He and Tyrme had relied very much on his parents’ support over that time.

      "I’d like my juice first, please, Neras said firmly. Jerna looked at the clock. Getting late in the school day, so perhaps the monarchy of Contanza could wait for another time.

      And then perhaps the beach? Mama? Fancy a swim?

      I—

      The front door banged open, and then footsteps echoed along the hall. His mother looked at Jerna. Eljira? I’ll go.

      No, let me. Neras, stay with Grandmama.

      His mother gave him a concerned look, but then smiled at Neras as if there was nothing amiss. Jerna slipped out in search of his other child. Normally Eljira came straight in to find either her grandmother or him, but he’d heard her bedroom door slam. Something had happened.

      He knocked on the door, but got no answer. Eljira? He pushed it open, to find his daughter sitting on her bed, knees under her chin, sobbing her heart out. Sweetheart, what’s wrong?

      He sat beside her and she flung herself at him, weeping and saying something he simply couldn’t make out at first.

      Eljira, darling, I need you to calm down. He wiped her face with his handkerchief and kept stroking her hair until the violent sobs abated a little. Now, start again. Did something happen at school? Did someone hurt you?

      She stared up at him with a dirty, tear-streaked face. Teri Wilozi.

      He didn’t know the name. Eljira had only just started at the senior school, so most of her classmates were new. Settling in had been hard for her, what with reaching menarche and Neras’s illness all putting stress on her without changing schools on top of it. Did she hurt you? What happened?

      She said.... She scrubbed at her nose, and accepted his handkerchief to blow it hard. Her bottom lip trembled. She said you’d been in prison.

      Well, I have, darling, you know that. It was a mistake—you know that too.

      She glared. I know, I told her. But then she said you were a dirty liar because you had a boyfriend and you were going to leave all of us to live with someone else. She wouldn’t shut up. And then all the others started.... I was so angry, Papa, but they wouldn’t stop, so I ran home. They chased me for a bit too.

      Oh, darling, I’m sorry, he said, patting her back as she started to sniffle again. Goddess. This is what he had hoped to avoid. They were being cruel for cruelty’s sake. You don’t deserve that.

      "Are you going to leave us again?"

      He hugged her close, resting his cheek on her warm, smooth hair whose scent was one of his fondest memories. No, never. Never, ever, ever.

      But why did she say that? She’s the liar. You don’t have a boyfriend!

      Lady, help me here, he prayed. This was a conversation he’d meant to have months and months ago, but there had been so many other things happening.... Eljira, there’s something I need to talk to you about.

      ~~~~~~~~

      Ria closed the last file on his desk with a sigh. He tried to leave with everything cleared from his trays before each weekend, but it was always a battle, and more often than he liked to, he had to admit defeat. The one thing he refused to do was take work home on the weekends. He often had meetings and social functions to attend, but paperwork belonged in the office and there the loathsome stuff would remain. He looked at his watch. Too late to see if anyone was free for dinner, and probably not worth the effort of finding a reservation for himself. It looked like Kotela’s was going to benefit from his slackness yet again. He’d been eating from their menu all week, with Jerna tied up in Pivineso. He was getting sick of bought in food, and vowed he wouldn’t ever tease Jerna again if he would just make a single home-cooked meal this week for them both. Jerna’s company would be more welcome than the meal, naturally, but together, they would be pure bliss.

      Too late also to give Jerna a call, but Ria could do that from Juli’s tomorrow. All he really had to do tonight was fend for himself. How dull he’d become. Once there would never have been a Waring day evening—or any evening—where he would have wanted for any company he might desire, and now he only went out in the week for work reasons. Most weekends he visited the different branches of his family, or, now rarely, old friends. But old friends who held any interest for a childless homosexual—or who had any real interest in him or his peculiar living arrangements—were few and far between.

      If he was honest, it was less their lack of interest than his own. He wasn’t actually a parent in the true sense, and he found it tiresome to feign fascination when he felt none. He couldn’t make himself care about generic children, and his friends with offspring talked of little else. Jerna was different in that respect, but even he, by force of some terrible luck in the last year, had had his children’s affairs more in his mind when with Ria than he normally would. Ria didn’t blame Jerna for that, and wanted to help, but damned if he wanted to listen to other people complain about schools and children’s behaviour and minor illnesses. He was, he suspected, becoming a bit of a curmudgeon.

      Jerna’s absence this last week made him grumpy, although it wasn’t any more by Jerna’s choice than his own. Ria had just got out of the habit of making alternative arrangements, and to get back into the habit was to admit that this situation was likely to continue, which he refused to do. Neras was on the road to full recovery, Eljira was settling down, and Jerna had even promised to come back early this Grace day to spend a little extra time with him.

      Jerna certainly didn’t take their relationship for granted, and Ria wouldn’t put more pressure on his lover at this time. Having a child with a potentially fatal illness was appalling. Ria and Juli had done all they could to help. Juli had said more than once how grateful she was that, up to now at least, she’d escaped all that with Ru and Zoa. But then Juli had had her own catastrophes. Ria had been here before, and would be supportive again if needed. It was just life, throwing crowbars into the smooth machinery of their lives.

      Goddess. He wasn’t so pathetic that he intended to sit here until midnight, maundering. He reached over and switched off his com, but at that moment, his pocket device made an incoming call discreetly known to him.

      Kezime.

      Ria, darling, Orlan here.

      Orlan? Lady’s tits, I thought you’d dropped off the face of the earth!

      His old lover’s handsome face creased up in a smile. "Not quite. Listen, my love, are you free tonight? I know it’s late but I just got back in from a tedious meeting and frankly, I could do with company who isn’t business. I’ve got reservations at eight thirty at The Three Ships, but I can cancel if you’d rather—"

      No, that’s perfect. I was just thinking of going home and ordering in.

      On a Waring day night? Riashe Kezime, I’m ashamed of you.

      Yes, well.... Where are you? Shall we have a drink first in the bar downstairs from the restaurant?

      Of course. I’ll be there in twenty minutes. Don’t wear that hideous uniform, darling. It makes you look like an ogre.

      Anything for you, Orlan, Ria said, rolling his eyes. As if he’d wear his uniform to dinner. I’ll meet you there.

      I’ll have a rose in my buttonhole. You’ll probably need it to recognise me, it’s been so long.

      Hardly. See you soon.

      He ended the call. Well, well, well. What was Orlan doing back in town? He hadn’t heard from him in almost two years—certainly not since before that dreadful business with Jerna. And why was his notoriously promiscuous ex so short of company? Perhaps it was an impulse—impulsiveness being the other thing for which Orlan was notorious.

      Whatever the reason, his call was perfectly timed. A better way of avoiding the horrors of his empty apartment Ria couldn’t imagine.

      ~~~~~~~~

      Ria, darling, you look as handsome as ever. Are you taking hormone injections or something? Orlan exclaimed as he kissed him on both cheeks.

      I could ask you the same thing. I swear you look as young as you did at twenty.

      He took a seat at the bar table as did Orlan. A waiter came up immediately and without asking, Orlan ordered Ria’s usual whisky, no ice. Goddess, darling, I hope not, Orlan said, shuddering theatrically as the waiter bowed and left. I was such a little prick back then.

      Yes, you certainly were. But a very good-looking prick. Orlan stuck his tongue out at him, which made Ria grin. So why are you back in Avahni? And where’s Estaone?

      The bright teasing smile died. Oh...well, darling, you know, we’ve been married for such a long time and the interest has just...withered.

      Ah. Sorry to hear that. Are you divorcing?

      No, nothing like that. She’s made her own arrangements, and I’m expanding my business interests here. Neither of us see any need to change things. It’s been like this for a while. I’m used to it. I’m only back in Serelto because I’m thinking of going into business with Warim Deti. Do you know him?

      Ria was startled to hear Warim’s name mentioned. Quite well, in fact. Another hotel?

      Possibly. Have to be a little discreet, you know, darling, he said, laying his finger against his nose.

      The waiter brought their drinks over, and Orlan sipped the long, fruit encrusted cocktail with theatrically obvious pleasure. Ria had never understood the attraction for such elaborate concoctions. Why are you still drinking those poncy drinks, Orlan?

      Poncy! Everyone knows that you only drink whisky to cover up your own inherent lack of manliness, you great queen. It was Ria’s turn to stick his tongue out, but Orlan only laughed at him. Enough about me, darling. What about you? Why is the most beautiful man in Serelto sitting around waiting around for an old fruit like me to call? Weren’t you going out with someone? I read about it in the newspapers—that business at the end of the year before last. I don’t suppose you still would be with them, come to think of it.

      And why not? Ria asked, offended. You’ve been married for twelve years.

      Married but not exactly exclusive, Orlan said dryly. "And you were the most commitment-shy man I ever fucked. Wait. Don’t tell me you’re still going out with this man? Then where is he? It should be a criminal offence to leave you alone on a Waring day evening."

      Ria sipped his whisky and gave his friend an embarrassed look. He has other obligations.

      Orlan stared. "You’re surely not going out with a married man."

      And if I am? Anyone who fucks you—or me, for that matter—is doing the same thing.

      "Yes, but darling, I don’t expect them to see me as a commitment. Seriously, my love, are you not going out with other people at least? You’re not sitting around moping while this fellow goes back and screws his wife?"

      Ria pursed his lips. It’s not really like that.

      Sounds like it is. You’re not even thirty-five. You’re in the prime of life. You should be out there cutting a swathe through all the lovely boys, not pining after a married man. Darling, I can tell you from personal experience, there’s no future in it.

      Can we please, Ria said, his voice tight with annoyance, stop analysing my private affairs in public?

      Oh. I’m sorry, I’m being a bore. Orlan reached over and patted his hand. Concern of an old friend, dear. Nothing more.

      I know and I appreciate it, but you really have no idea of the circumstances and I don’t want to talk about it. Not here, at least.

      I understand.

      And he did, Ria knew. Underneath the studied flamboyance was a sharp, perceptive, if occasionally reckless mind. Ria would never have tolerated one without the other. Orlan could be a perfect bitch when he wanted to be, but he was no fool. Ria was glad they had managed to stay friends, if rather distant ones, despite Orlan running off to marry a wealthy Contanzi noblewoman. Not that he had really thought he and Orlan had any kind of future together, but it had interrupted a rather enjoyable affair just when he was getting used to having a voracious and talented lover on tap. It had been an irritant rather than a tragedy. He was just surprised the marriage had lasted as long as it had. Orlan had been infatuated enough with Estaone in the early days. He’d even been faithful in the beginning, which Ria would never have credited. But, entirely predictably, it hadn’t lasted. Orlan was congenitally unable to be satisfied by one person at a time. At least he was honest about that.

      They finished their drinks, and moved upstairs. Orlan poked him a little more about Jerna, but Ria, genuinely irritated, told him to knock it off. So he did, changing the subject to gossip about mutual acquaintances which was a lot more amusing and a lot less personal. Ria had almost forgotten how fascinating Orlan could be when he turned on the charm, and how dryly accurate his observations of the human condition were. But then they’d spent nearly as much time laughing as fucking in the old days. Orlan’s departure east had made life a lot

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