Chapter 1: Ted and Estelle

Ted noticed her standing there, the instant he entered the bar.

It wasn't the most salubrious of establishments at the best of times; what's more, it was advertised as a 'Singles Bar!' i.e. it was usually full of 'chancers', only there on the off-chance that they might get lucky! Indeed, why else had Ted himself chosen to frequent the place himself that evening?

However, Ted had not expected that he'd ever see her in there!

The attractive young woman was standing by the bar giggling, all but surrounded by a little band of hopefuls who were pretty obviously plying her with alcohol; while protecting their prey from any interlopers.

Ted knew what the gang were up to; he'd seen the guys in action more than a few times previously. What would most likely happen later, after they'd all left the bar together– as Ted suspected the guys were planning for that evening as well – Ted had never bothered to contemplate in the past.

But that particular evening was different. The young woman was different. She ... should not have been there! Not in that place, looking for a little ... fun on the side. Not that Ted thought she was going to get much joy out of the evening; if those chancers got their way.

Ted stopped and exchanged a few words with the doorman; one of the bouncers who keep things under control as best they can. They eject the more obnoxious customers and watch-out for anyone who was trying to take or deal-in ... illegal substances, within the establishment. The local police were a might touchy about that kind of behaviour.

The doorman listened attentively to Ted, then nodded and informed him that he'd pass the message on to the rest of his colleagues. Then Ted went over to the far end of the bar, away from where the woman thought that she was holding court.

Ted purchased his usual pint and then retreated to his dark corner to consume it. Several people -- knowing of Ted's reputation – vacated his regular table as he approached.

Sitting there in the dim light Ted watched as the woman danced with every one of the guys who were ... hunting her. He watched as the four of them subtly saw-off anyone else who tried to ask her to dance. And he watched as they plied her with more and more alcohol and pondered whether they'd resort to anything stronger. The woman was leaving her drinks unattended on the bar after all, and the two barmen were far too busy to notice everything.

"Taking it easy tonight are we, Ted?" One of the bar staff commented as he came around collecting empties.

The bar staff had noted that Ted had been nursing the same pint ever since he'd arrived in the joint; not his usual behaviour.

"Yeah, the brunette sort those tossers at the end of the bar are working on; I wanna make sure she gets home in one piece."

"Not like you, Ted. Someone special, is she?"

"You could say she was, yeah. A very long time ago!"

"Classy bitch, don't know what she's doing in here! If you don't mind me saying, a bit out of your..."

"Yeah, she was ... still is! Nothing ever came of it; I just can't figure-out what the Christ she's doing in this dump!"

"Looking for a bit on the side maybe? You know what some of these toffee-nosed bints are like?"

"Well, she'll get more than she's bargained for with those buggers!"

"So, what's your angle, Ted; are you intending to play knight errant or somethin'? Or are you planning to take advantage of the situation?"

Ted had glowered at the barman as he'd completed his sentence. Realising that he might have overstepped the mark some; the guy hastily withdrew to the safety of his bar.

Around eleven-thirty the woman began to look decided unsteady on her feet, and a couple of the chancers appeared to trying to persuade the her to leave. But she was having fun, gyrating around the small dance floor; so she refused ... loudly!

But by twelve she was staggering, and from what Ted could make out, the woman herself had decided that she'd better start thinking about leaving. However her newfound friends convinced her that another drink for the road, wouldn't do any harm.

It was as two of the chancers were assisting the woman through the door that Ted made his move. Several (large) members of the door staff -- backed-up by two police officers standing near-by -- had blocked their path just outside.

Ted, elbowed his way in amongst the chancers and then swept the – by that time – almost unconscious woman into his arms.

"'Ere, what's your bleeding game?" One of the chancers demanded.

"Just taking the lady home lads; just taking the lady home!" Ted replied with a smile.

"Well, wha'd'ya fink we wuz doing?"

"I don't know lads. But if that is the case; tell me, what's the ladies name and where does she live?"

"Stella! And if you know so bloody much, why don't you tell us where she lives?" Another chancer replied.

"Her name ... gentlemen, is Estelle Cooper ... Mrs ... and I'm sure ... when she's sober, she'd much prefer it if the likes of you, didn't know where she does live!"

Ted's reply had been for the benefit of the two police officers, who were by then showing a marked interest in the confrontation.

A nod from one of the door staff caused the officers to take more interest in the chancers' than Ted. The four guys hurriedly decided to disperse, once their names had been requested and dutifully noted down in the Constables' notebooks.

The police officers had no need to ask Ted's name. His younger days had left Ted a little more notorious locally, than he'd have preferred to be.

Assisted by one of the door staff, Ted loaded the semi-comatose, but still babbling Estelle, onto the backseat of his car.

"Are you taking her home, Ted?" One of the police officers enquired. "She don't look too clever!"

"I was going to, officer. But going by the state of her now; the General for a session with old stomach pump, might prove favourite!"

"My thoughts exactly. I'll give them a shout on the radio; give them the heads-up that you're on your way."

"Cheers officer." Ted replied. Then he climbed into the driver's seat and set off towards the local hospital.

"Has she taken anything?" The emergency doctor asked, pulling Estelle's eyelids open so he could inspect her pupils.

"Too much bleeding jungle juice for a start, Doc. But I wouldn't put it past those wankers she was with, to have slipped her something on the quiet. They definitely thought they were gong to 'get lucky' this evening; if you get my drift?"

"In this condition; that would be tantamount to rape!"

"Makes no difference to those tossers Doc; you know that as well as I do! She'd wake up tomorrow dumped somewhere; with a sore fanny, a headache, and little recollection of how she got either."

"So where do you fit into the equation Teddy? Not quite your style carrying distressed maidens, in here."

"We have history, sort-of, Doc. Not great history I have to admit; but history of sorts all the same. I always knew I'd be the guy from the wrong side of the tracks as far as Estelle and her family were concerned; so I worshipped her from afar."

"Ah, I see; daddy would not have approved?"

"You got it, Doc. And I doubt Estelle would have, either!"

"But she's married though, she's wearing a ring. Where's her husband this evening?"

"Buggered if I know Doc. He weren't in that pub anyway. A bit careless of the bloke really; I wouldn't let a looker like Estelle out of my sight."

"Well, we'd better get her stomach cleared out; stop anymore alcohol getting into her system. Are you going to call her husband, or shall I?"

"I think it better if neither of us do, Doc! How's she going to explain the state she's in to him? I've got no idea where she lives anyway. Although I do recall she married some geezer by the name of Cooper.

"She has no handbag or anything; that might have some information in it?"

"Not that I'm aware of, Doc!"

"Alright. She's drunk and incapable, we can do what's necessary to preserve her health, without written consent."

I'll leave you to it then, Doc. I've had endured the stomach treatment a few times, and I don't think I'd care to witness the procedure carried out on anyone else."

"You're not leaving, Ted?"

"No, I'll be outside polluting the atmosphere and removing some unsightly evidence of her presence from my car. If you get one of your nurses to give me a yell when the messy bits over; I'll sit by Stella's bed until she wakes-up. You folks have enough to do without watching her all shift. And ... well, she'll have to get home eventually, won't she?"

Estelle struggled to open her eyes. Her head felt worse than she could ever recall it feeling before and she had no idea where she was.

The ceiling though -- once Estelle had focused on it -- did appear to be very familiar.

"I'm in hospital!" She eventfully whispered to herself, "How did I get here?"

"I brought you here. You were as pissed as a fart last night, girl!" A voice said from off to her right.

Estelle slowly turned her head to look at who'd spoken.

There sat some stranger, maybe thirty or so years old, she thought.

"Do I know you?" She asked.

"No Stella, I doubt you do. But I know you; and you were keeping some real unsavoury company last evening. I had to bide my time until you passed-out before I could..."

"Could do what?" Estelle demanded.

"Well Stella. I somehow I didn't think that pulling a train, was quite your style. So I interrupted the wankers' plans; stepped-in and brought you here to have your stomach flushed out. You were pissed out of your skull; you silly cow! What were you doing in a place like that anyway?"

"Pulling a train?" Estelle repeated, failing to comprehend the metaphor.

"Four frustrated perverts taking turns with one female, Estelle. The Yanks call that pulling a train. I suppose those guys figured that you'd be the engine that would keep them going all night, if you get my drift? Where I come from, we'd call it a bike relay; as in village bike! Christ, if you were looking for a bit on the side, girl; you could have done better than that bunch of wankers!"

"How dare you impute that I'd do anything like that? Who do you think you think you... ? Estelle began to say; but as she spoke, she instantly got that déjà vu feeling.

The guys face was familiar and she could vaguely recall saying almost exactly the same words to him sometime in the distant past. The circumstance Estelle could not recall though. However, Estelle had been famously adept at ... seeing-off -- what she considered -- unsuitable prospective suitors in her younger days.

"God, I know you, don't I? You were at college weren't you? Ted Something-or-the-other; always getting into trouble on that motorcycle of yours!"

"Yeah Stella, that's me; Ted Something-or-the-other! I never did fit in with your high and mighty circle, did I?"

"Oh God, I'm sorry; but I just can't recall your name. I suppose that I should be grateful that you brought me here."

"Yeah, I suppose ... you should!"

"Oh Christ, I'm sorry; I'm so confused. That didn't come out as I intended. Look Ted, I'm truly grateful that you did bring me here last night. Um, where did you ... er... ?"

"Find you?" Ted suggested.

Estelle smiled weakly and nodded.

"In the singles bar, up behind the station. Bit of a dive for you Estelle! What the hell were you doing in there?"

But before Estella could answer Ted's question, the doctor arrived to check on her over before he went off-duty.

"Ah, our patient's awake I see. How's the head young lady?"

"Not good doctor. My stomach hurts as well!"

"That's from all the throwing-up you were doing, young lady. Didn't exactly save you from the dreaded stomach pump though, we had to flush your system out a little. You know you're a very lucky girl; Ted here saved you from a fate that some would consider worse than death last night. God alone knows where you'd have finished-up without him." The doctor said, examining Estelle's eyes again.

Estelle looked across at Ted, who suddenly had an embarrassed expression on his face as the doctor began to address him.

"We've sent those blood samples of Estelle's down, Ted. We don't think they'll find anything except excessive alcohol. But if they come up with anything that shouldn't be there, then the results will be passed on to the police. You did say that they got those guys names didn't you?"

"No!" Ted replied.

"Oh, the police officer must have told me then; he popped in while you were both asleep. I couldn't see much point in waking either of you. I think he was really here to check that Estelle had arrived safely."

"I might have guessed it!" Ted exclaimed, "Do some bugger a good turn, and the coppers are looking to pin something on me."

"Nothing of the kind, Ted! The police officer was just doing his duty in ensuring Estelle had arrived here safely. He praised your actions actually. He said that you saw something suspicious occurring and acted accordingly. What's more you brought Estelle straight here when a taxi driver or something, might have dumped her anywhere, after she'd vomited in his cab like that.

"Apparently he went past earlier, while you were cleaning-up your car. He thought he'd leave it until you were finished."

"Kind of him. He could have helped!"

"Come on, Ted; you know that no good turn goes unpunished! Hey, maybe you should have left it until this morning when Estelle could have helped you. It might teach her to be a little more conservative in her alcohol consumption in future."

"I was sick in your car! Oh, how embarrassing; I'm so sorry Ted!"

"Stella throwing up in my car ain't the half of it. You should have seen yourself last evening. I'm sure daddy would have disowned you! Just what were you doing in that dive, anyway?"

Estelle looked from Ted, across to the equally curious doctor.

"Actually I was hoping to surprise my husband last evening. I've been told that he goes in there quite often with his latest paramour. Obviously they didn't show last night and I hung around for too long."

"Much too long, Mrs Cooper. Anyway I think that it's safe for Ted to run you home now. Just don't be alone for the next few hours or so, and for God's sake don't drive until tomorrow at the earliest. You're still technically drunk; well over the drink drive limit anyway!"

"Thank you doctor. From the way my head feels, I don't think alcohol will ever pass my lips again."

"That's not the first time I've heard a patient say that on a Sunday morning Mrs Cooper, and I doubt it will be the last! Regretfully it's usually the same patients repeating themselves every few weeks. I'll send the nurse in with your clothes."

The doctor left and a few minutes later a nurse appeared around the edge of the curtain screen carrying Estelle's clothes. As she did so, Ted stood to make his way out of the cubical. But as the two passed each other they exchanged smiles and nurse planted a brief but familiar peck on Ted's cheek."

"We've done what we can, Stella, but your dress still has traces of vomit on it. Teddy suggested that you might prefer to wear this. At least it doesn't smell!" The nurse said to Estelle, after closing the curtain.

"What is it?" Estelle asked, staring down at the folded garment the nurse had dropped onto the bed.

"A boiler suit. Ted keeps it in his car in case of emergency. It is clean, and at least it doesn't smell of vomit. I'm afraid your lovely dress is going need a dry clean at least. But even then, there might be stains. You must have been in some god-awful state when Teddy dragged you in here last night Stella!"

"You know, Ted?"

Of course I do, Stella. Everyone knows Teddy; I'm one of his regular bodies..."

Estelle did not know what to make of that strange remark, and chose not to enquire.

"And I know you Stella, from college. But I doubt you remember me?"

"I believe I do ... remember you, that's is. Brenda ... er, Green. You were good friends with Sheila Withen weren't you? Doctor Sheila ... Thomas, as she is now."

"Brenda Brown actually; different colour, but close enough considering we never actually met each other to speak to before. I didn't have the makings of a doctor, so I settled for becoming a nurse instead."

"Brenda, I really do could with a shower before I go home."

"Bad timing Stella. Our shower down here is out of commission, so you'd have to use one of the ones up on the ward, and at this time of day it's a madhouse up there. Why don't you take a shower at Teddy's place? He's got a great set-up back there in his changing room and you might even find something a little more ... well, more feminine than that boiler suit anyway, to wear."

Brenda stuck her head though the curtain and asked Ted if Stella could use his shower. Ted agreed and also suggested that Stella would probably find something more suitable to wear on the rack.

Stella overheard the exchange, but once again chose not to enquire too much.

She did wonder exactly why Ted would apparently have some female clothes at his home. She even wondered why Ted would refer to them as being on a rack. But because Brenda didn't sound at all surprised by the fact that Ted kept some female clothing at his home; Stella decided not to enquire why he would have them there. She also thought that Brenda would not have suggested that she used Ted's shower, if it wasn't completely safe for her to do so.

After signing the relevant paperwork and feeling very self-conscious, dressed in Ted's oversized – for her – boiler suit; the sleeves and legs rolled up and wearing her stiletto heeled shoes. Estelle followed Ted out to his car, which had the distinct odour of disinfectant inside.

Out of embarrassment, Estelle did not comment on the strange smell.

It was but a short journey to Ted's house. A deceptively spacious, small and very old looking cottage; that had obviously been standing there for many years before any of the other houses in the street had been built.

Estelle was surprised to see that the lower floor had been knocked through to make one large interconnected space. There was a neat kitchen tucked away in one corner and very little furniture; just a few lounge chairs and no television set. However the surface of every wall was almost completely covered in works of art.

"I see you go for the minimalist approach to furnishing, Ted."

"Down here, yes!"

But as he replied, Stella's eye fell upon what she thought was an anomaly amongst the paintings. Estelle had never considered herself a connoisseur of art, but hanging there before her was what appeared to be a print of Constables 'The Hay Wain'. That one print, amongst all those oil colours looked out of place to Estelle and she found herself drawn towards it.

"My God, it's not a print!" She found herself forced to exclaim, when she realised the fact.

"There's no prints here Stella! That's an oil on canvas copy!" Ted informed her.

"But who painted it?"

Estelle lent close so that she could make out the signature.

"T. E. Harper! I know that name; I've seen it before. He ... or she, painted that big mural in the college entrance hall."

Then Estelle noticed that the next painting to it, was also signed T. E. Harper ... and the next. She spun around and looked at Ted.

"Theodore Edward Harper, at your service milady." Ted grinned at her.

"Not Ted Something-or-the-other then?"

"No, Stella!"

"Oh my god I'm so sorry. I had no idea that you were such a talented artist Ted; or should I call you, Theodore?"

"No bugger gets away with calling me Theodore, Stella. Well, not unless they are i8n the habit of writing me a bleeding great cheques, that is! Now, if you are going to take that shower, you'd better get your arse in gear."

"Charming turn of phrase!"

"I don't stand on ceremony Stella; you should have figured that out by now. The room on the right at the top of the stairs is the models changing room; off that, you'll find a shower room. And you'll see the costume rack, loaded with clothes that my models wear, in there as well. You'll have to be a little choosy though, some of them are a little on the risqué side; it's what some of my clients want."

"Oh my, there's even more of your pictures up here. What's in the room on the left?"

"That's my studio, Stella, and it also doubles as my bedroom; stay out of there, please?"

Estelle had her shower and searched through the rack of clothes she found in the dressing room, eventually coming across something not too revealing, as Brenda had suggested she would. Estelle then tracked down the nurse's make-up case and spent some time trying to create her look. She could hear Ted working down in the kitchen, Estelle assumed cooking them some breakfast.

On leaving the dressing room Estelle stopped to admire the art that covered every inch of wall space. But then she began to wonder what pictures Ted could be currently working on, and also what pictures adorned the walls of his studio.

Taking a quick glance down the stairs to ensure that he wasn't standing down there watching her; Estelle quietly opened the door to his studio and tip-toed inside Ted's inner sanctum.

The room was far larger than she'd expected; against one wall stood an unmade bed. Alongside it were two easels both with incomplete paintings on them. At the foot of the bed stood a tall freestanding mirror, positioned Estelle imagined so that someone sitting for a portrait would be able to see their reflection in it. There was also an odd collection of chairs, Estelle assumed for Ted's subjects to sit upon.

Stacked along the side of the room, their fronts turned towards the wall, were many canvases. Estelle went over and pulled the first stack away from the wall so that she could look through the paintings one after another. Then she looked at the second stack and then the third. But the first picture in that forth stack, took Estelle's breath away, and she physically started.

There was no mistaking the fact that the scantily clad subject of the painting was herself. And so was the next and the next.

"I thought I recall asking you not to come in here, Stella?" Ted's voice suddenly said from behind her; making Estelle jump.

"Ted, that's me in this painting!"

"Not exactly Stella. Actually that one is of Brenda, she just has your face!"

"But why?"

"Why what?"

"Why does she have my face?"

"Because I happen to like your face, Estelle. I've always liked it, didn't you notice that you are in the mural at the college."

"You know, the girls always said that it looked like me in that mural; but it was too high up for me to see properly."

"It is you, Estelle. I didn't have my ideal model here, so I used ... bodies as Brenda euphemistically calls them, and then I add your face from memory. Oh, bodies with similar attributes to your own, of course. That's probably why Brenda thought you'd find something that would fit you, on the rack."

"Don't your models get annoyed that you don't paint their faces?"

"Oh, but I do ... I use their faces, on most of the work I sell. But every now and then, I like to indulge my fantasies and paint my ideal woman. I never sell any of those paintings by the way; so you shouldn't ever find yourself being embarrassed or recognised from one. Although, I have entered a few in competitions up in London. You've won me a medal or two over the years actually.

"I'm not a stalker Estelle. Stalkers follow people around and that sort of thing. You know I don't even know where you live! I'm an artist and many years ago I found my ideal subject. I've enjoyed painting her ever since."

"But this is one of me on my wedding day?"

"Ah yes ... well, I was there that day; I'll admit that. I took some snaps and painted that one from them."

"You know, I think I saw you that day. You kept your crash helmet on, didn't you?"

"Yeah well, I hoped I wasn't being too obvious."

"But this is of me and my father; surely it should have been Roger there outside the church?"

"Artists licence Stella. You surely couldn't expect me, to paint you holding hands with Roger. You looked so beautiful in that dress."

"Ted, were you in love with me?"

"Am I in love with you, don't you mean, Stella? And to be honest, I don't know. I love your face ... your figure and your hair. But I never did get to know who Estelle Warender actually was!"

"Not a nice person Ted, I can assure you of that. I thought I did, but I'm not sure now that I ever really loved Roger. I'm not sure I even understand what love is! Mind you, I'm sure that Roger never really loved me either. It was a business thing with him; Roger's father did a lot of business with my father, so we were both preferred candidates as in-laws, if you understand me?

"I think maybe it was against my better judgement, that I married him. It worked for a while, but the parents don't do so much business together nowadays and Roger appears to have taken to ... well, playing the field a little too often for my liking! That's what I was planning last night, you know; a big scene in the pub. But Roger and his latest floozy didn't show.

"I suppose, in a way, it's lucky he didn't; there'd have been repercussions. Divorce can be so ... messy."

"I can't see the point in living with the idiot, if he doesn't love you, and you don't love him, Stella."

"I agree, but if I do divorce him, what will I do? I've never gone out of my way to make myself popular with anyone; you know that! If I throw-out Roger; then I'll have no friends or social life left at all, or very few friends anyway."

"I'd say that they're not your friends to start with then, Stella. Roger's friends more like! Drop that bloody high and mighty act you used to have all the time at college and I'm sure you'll soon find plenty of new friends. Now get that pert backside of yours downstairs and let's eat; I'm starving!"

"You are a funny man Ted!" Estelle said as they drank their after breakfast coffees.

"Surely you've got that wrong Stella, disagreeable most people would say. You know I have to sell my paintings from here, because I can't get-on with any of the gallery owners. Too much up their own stuffed shirt arses for my liking, all of them."

"Like, I was back at college, you mean?"

"Yeah well, you could say that! My trouble is, I come from the wrong side of town and I've no patience with the Hooray 'Enries of this world. You always have been something different though, Stella!"

"Yeah, you thought that you loved me, and I never had a clue that you were even interested in me that way; too stuck-up to notice! Ted, I just never even contemplated it, and that makes me the fool, not you. You know that you always have been just about the most handsome ... tearaway, I've ever known.

"Oh, I remember you from our college days all right, and I can recall thinking that you were so good looking back then. But I never even thought to get to know you ... or actually I should say, allow you to get to know me; you did try at least once as I recall. If I had, then maybe life would have been different for both of us."

"In what way?"

"Well, I somehow doubt I'd have married Roger Cooper for a start. And, your paintings would be on sale in all the top galleries in the country."

Ted went to speak, but Estelle quieted him with a wave of her hand.

"I am one of your Hooray Henries, Ted! I know exactly how to handle those people. And how argue their commissions down as well. Your paintings are good ... better than good, they are brilliant. Ted, I'm sure that if we'd worked together, you'd be more famous than Hockney by now

"Hey, don't get carried away, kid. I paint what I like to paint and none of this avant-garde or pop rubbish. Anyway, I think we'd better think about getting you home before your husband calls out the National Guard or something."

Disappointed at Ted's reaction to her little speech ... suggestion, Estelle had hoped ... but she had to agree with Ted.

In fact Estelle had taken a serious fancy to the notion of sitting for Ted, and maybe helping him sell his work. Not that Ted appeared to be struggling in that direction; many of paintings on the house walls had 'sold' stickers on them.

"Damn-it Roger's not here and I haven't got my keys; I can't get in!" Estelle exclaimed as Ted pulled up in the street outside her house.

"How do you know?"

"His car is not in the drive Ted; Roger never can be bothered to put it in the garage."

"Perhaps he's out scouring the countryside, looking for you. I know I'd be climbing the ruddy walls if my missus hadn't come home all night. I'll bet he's down the police station reporting you missing!"

"No, knowing Roger like I do, I'd say he's on the seventh or eighth tee by now. Roger always plays a round of golf on Sunday mornings; then he adjourns to nineteenth for a skinful before lunch. He's going to get pulled for drink driving one of these days."