Trust In Love

Intrusion

As Tom drove away in the taxi that night, he sat back with a contented sigh. Life, it seemed, was finally going his way. After a few false starts, one or two spectacular crashes, and a few pleasant but uninspiring relationships, it seemed he'd finally hit the jackpot. Jennie was, quite simply, wonderful. Under his nose all these years and now? It was as if someone had turned a light on.

He was a VERY lucky man, and he knew it.

The meal had been a spectacular success, the company every bit as wonderful as he'd imagined and to top it all off? That kiss... the promise of so much more. Oh, and the return of his backpack. He shouldn't forget that!

A cursory glance inside it had suggested everything was still there, even down to the old gas bill he'd traipsed about with him. He really should phone them about his direct debit..... if only his Hollywood co-stars could see him now. Not so much red carpet and champagne, more carpet slippers, and cocoa!

The taxi wound its way through the evening traffic. Taking some people home to loved ones, some out to late night rendezvous and, like him although he didn't know it, to their fate. The driver was a cheery soul, making the small talk that seemed to be part of their training just as much as learning the routes. Dave, as he'd cheerily introduced himself as, didn't seem phased by the fact that he was a famous actor in the slightest. Everyone was the same in the back of his cab, and he treated all with equal respect - and good humour.

"So you got anything new on the go, then Mr H?" he asked with a glance in the mirror. "Anything Marvel won't shoot you for telling me anyway?"

"Well, one or two irons in the fire. But no, none that won't earn me time in the sin-bin, " he laughed. "Although I CAN say that away from the camera? Life is developing very nicely."

"That's good to hear, Mr H. Good to hear. Now, what's a handsome man like you doing heading home alone on a Friday night? The missus will NEVER believe me!" he laughed like a drain and Tom smiled, blushing a little.

"Oh, you know how it is Dave, sometimes you just have to go for the marathon and not the sprint!" he shrugged and Dave nodded.

"Know what you mean Mr H. Right, here we are.... home again. Cash or card?....."

Five minutes and a handsome tip later, Dave drove off into the night with a cheery wave and a tale for his wife that she would scarce believe. Sometimes being a cabby was better than he could ever have imagined.

Tom stood at the kerb-side and looked around him, taking a deep lung full of the evening air. The little square he lived on was quiet. All the houses huddled around the central, private, garden. Their creamy Portland stone facades hinted at restrained wealth that didn't want to show off. The windows were all dark, save one or two hall lights that welcomed latecomers.

He watched as a fox scuttled off into the darkness of the garden, barking as it went. Turning, he looked up at his own particular castle. If pride were allowed, he thought, he would be proud of himself for being able to have things like this. He worked hard, always had. His father's Scottish work ethic ingrained into his DNA, his mother's desire to do his best reinforced that.

Now, several years and many MANY late nights and early mornings on sets around the world and he had his oasis. His castle where he could hide from the world. His safe space. As he climbed the steps, his shoes echoing in the still night on the stone, he ran his hand up the balustrade. The stone was warm to the touch from the day's sunshine. His mind instantly flitted to something else smooth and warm to the touch.

Jennie. Her skin had been like silk, her arm warm and sensuously inviting. Not as inviting as her lips though. He smiled to himself in the dark as he unlocked the front door. How long would it be before she was standing next to him when he did this. And could he learn to open it quickly? He knew as soon as she stood in that spot, all he would want would be for her to be inside. In his arms. In his.....

"WHAT THE HOLY FUCK !!!!!" He dropped his bag in shock, mouth hanging open and keys clattering as they hit the marble floor.

His hallway, his beautiful Georgian hallway, had been virtually destroyed. Paintings smashed on the floor, side table overturned, coats and shoes discarded from the rack. To add insult to injury? They ... he assumed it was a "they" - had left what appeared to be a spilled Starbucks cup, the dark coffee staining the Persian rug at the foot of the stairs. A vase he'd had some flowers - a gift from his mum when she visited last week - smashed on the floor, crunched under his foot as he gingerly stepped in.

Calling the police, he made his way forwards and into the living room. Snapping on the light, he wished he hadn't.

"Hello? Police please... yes... it is an emergency, I've been burgled... and vandalised." he leaned against the doorpost as he took in the scene. "No, I don't have one. I know, it was getting fitted next week." he sighed and hung up.

Everything it was possible to smash had been smashed. TV gone, naturally, his sofa ripped and cushions burst. There was a VERY suspect dark stain on the rug in front of the fireplace and when he sniffed it.. His stomach retched. Animals. No, actually animals wouldn't do this.

The antique French mirror over the fireplace, a present from a grateful author when he did an audio book... Just an empty frame, the glass spread over the floor in a dusting of silver shards. His collection of books - his pride and joy and the one thing he couldn't wait to show Jennie - pulled from their shelves and strewn over the floor.

It might just have been a random attack but for one thing. Over the pale wall above the TV, scrawled in red aerosol paint, was a phrase that could mean only one thing.

The house had been targeted.

"NOT SO GLORIOUS NOW ARE WE LOKI?"

He walked back out of the living room, his stomach churning. He didn't need to go into the kitchen to know it was wrecked too. He could see from the door. A chair was overturned and the remnants of a shattered window - their way in - over the russet quarry tiling.

Instead, he turned and walked slowly upstairs. Whoever it was, was long gone. The fact there had been no movement for the whole time he had been there, convinced him. Glancing into the bathroom, amazingly it hadn't really been touched. He began to hope that they'd concentrated on the ground floor.

He was proved wrong.

As he walked into the bedroom, his heart sank. Every bit as destroyed as downstairs. Wait.. no.. please... he ran across to his now vandalised dresser and with a curse, slammed his hands down angrily. His father's watch, given to him on his 21st, in the family tradition, had been stolen. Of all the things he'd had broken or they could have taken, this was the one thing he'd prayed was intact. It wasn't THAT valuable in the grand scheme of things, but it WAS irreplaceable. How would he tell his Dad? It had been in the family for generations. Now, it was gone.

He didn't want to know any more. Ignoring the ripped bedding, the emptied drawers where they'd been looking for more valuables, he plodded back down. Half way, his phone rang. The Police, they were sorry, but he wasn't really an emergency. They'd send someone as soon as they could. In the meantime, they'd send a locksmith to make sure the house was secure.

Someone had known it was his and his alone. Someone had inside information. But how? How had they known THIS was his house? He'd been VERY careful never to be photographed coming in and out. The neighbours had all been there for years. He was convinced none of them would have revealed his whereabouts. Someone must have gotten hold of..... his address... oh dear God surely not?

He raked about in his backpack and although the gas bill was still there, when he looked, REALLY looked, the letter from his agent was gone. The letter that had his details on it. ALL his details. He sank onto the arm of the sofa and as the police took the details, he began to have a horrible feeling that the man following Jennie had something to do with this.

The truth behind that thought was about to rock his world in the most spectacularly horrible way.