The one that got away

 

Picture New Year, somewhere warm where people will gather as the midnight hour approaches ready to drink a toast to the coming year, or maybe to celebrate the final demise of that last year from hell. Everyone's happy, laughing, enjoying the warm night and looking forward to the fireworks which will reflect in the still waters of the lake.

The bangs start, the sky lights up. And then the bangs of fireworks mix with the crack of automatic weapons and the laughter morphs into shouts and screams...

And then I woke up.

I rarely dream - at least, I rarely remember them. But I remembered this one. It wasn't as coherent as my description, just a kaleidoscope of images of fireworks and terrorists and I had an idea for a story.

Ella and the Admiral is a short story, set in the Dryden Universe.

Here’s the blurb:

When Admiral Goran Chandler suddenly turns up in Ella’s restaurant her comfortable world is thrown into turmoil. Ten years ago he’d been a senior commander, and captain of the frigate Antelope. She had been Lieutenant Bulich then, and he’d kicked her off his ship.

With unexpected danger threatening, and a killer stalking the corridors of the Hotel Majestic, Ella and the admiral must work together to escape with their lives before they can consider the events of ten years ago, and what they mean now.

***

I know romance has its own tropes and 'rules' but I think that often puts romance into fantasy. You meet the love of your life, neither of you have even a thought for anyone else and you live happily ever after. 

Yeah, right.

In the real world, people marry too young and fall out of love. They have affairs, they get divorced. Relationships can be messy. I have real world experience of things like that and I know I'm not the only one. So, this little story is about a second chance, perhaps the one that got away.

Here’s a snippet which won’t need much introduction, except to say this is the evening of the planet’s five hundredth anniversary. There’ll be parties, revelry, dancing in the streets, and fireworks over the lake. A group of eight arrives for dinner at the restaurant where Ella works. One of the party is her former commanding officer. She escorts the guests to their table, making sure Chandler doesn’t realize she has recognized him.

***

Chandler made sure Ella didn't realize he'd recognized her, turning to his colleagues to discuss where everyone else was going to sit. They were all senior officers from his flagship, here for a private birthday dinner with Captain Ibbotson, away from the military, away from formal engagements representing Fleet. He'd had a chance to look Ella over, keeping his expression carefully schooled, when she had introduced the two attendants who would be looking after their group. She'd hardly aged. Those compelling dark eyes were just as compelling, her lips just as luscious. She'd grown her hair, but wore it tied back. The dark red uniform suited her, accentuating the brown of her skin.

"It's our job to make this a memorable evening for you. If there's anything you need, please don't hesitate to ask your attendants, or me." Ella beamed a smile around the table, although she brushed past him as though he wasn't there. Ibbotson thanked her, and then she walked away.

Ella. To start with she'd been just another junior officer, inexperienced but capable and willing. On a frigate the officers got to know each other, shared jokes and meals, sometimes even some leave time. She was fun, interested in everything, willing to try the food on any planet. He'd enjoyed her company more than he should have. Chandler wondered if she was still married. He had met the husband, briefly, when the man came to collect his wife for a weekend at home, but he couldn't remember the fellow's name, or what he looked like. What Chandler did remember was the feeling of jealousy, that this man was going to take Ella home and… have sex with her. That was when he'd realized he'd let himself get too close. He was her commanding officer. She was married. He was married, too, then.

 

***

 

A couple of days after I wrote this story the terrorist attack took place in Nice, France. You might remember a man drove a truck into crowds of people watching the fireworks on Bastille Day. Premonition? I most sincerely hope not. 

 

You'll find all the links to Ella and the Admiral here