by Chloe Carpenter
It was just another Monday morning as Tom set out from home to drive the seven miles to the office, but instead of continuing on the busy main road that was his usual route, he took a left turn to post his sister's birthday card. He frowned slightly as he scanned the side roads. This part of town was unfamiliar, but he was certain there was a postbox somewhere close by. Turning into a quiet tree-lined road, he spied the red postbox and drove towards it.
He grinned as he deposited the card in the box. He had enclosed his usual cheque as a birthday gift, and wondered what mad fripperies Gwen would spend it on. Last year she had bought an exercise bike that was too big to fit into her house, so she had put it in the shed where it now resided gathering dust. The year before she had used his cheque to invest in an outrageously expensive mobile phone that had proved to be so complex to use she shoved it on a drawer and went back to using her old one. And the year before that he'd got her the African parrot she wanted, which promptly bit her finger and was returned to the shop...
So deep in thought was he that he failed to see the little girl crouching down behind a nearby hedge. It was as he turned to go back to his car that he first became aware of her. She looked up at him through big brown eyes filled with tears and her face was red and blotchy with crying.
"Hello," he said, immediately concerned.
The girl's lower lip trembled. "H-hello." She rubbed her eyes, wiping away a fresh burst of tears.
"Are you hurt?" He stepped towards her and hunkered down in front of her.
"No," she sniffed.
"Are you sure? What's wrong?" He looked at her closely and revised his opinion. She wasn't a little girl after all but an older one, maybe in her teens.
"I-I'm just upset about s-something."
"Here. Take this and have a good blow." Tom produced a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it over. "That's something my mother used to say to me. It sounds rather silly, doesn't it?" he said gently, reassured when the flicker of a smile played around the corners of her mouth.
"Uh huh," she responded, and then dutifully blew her nose.
"I'm Tom. Want to tell me what you're upset about? Maybe I can help."
"I wish you could help," she said wistfully. "But you can't. I-"
"Ruth!" called an irate voice. "Where are you? Get inside."
"Oh! It's Brad. I have to go." She jumped up with a look of pure panic in her eyes, pausing to smile tremulously. "Thank you, Tom," she said, then fled, sprinting along the pavement and up a garden path that led to the front door of one of a neat pair of semi-detached town houses.
"You take care now," he said, watching her go. He guessed that she was barely five feet tall. She was small boned with delicate features, and her dark brown hair was fastened into a cute ponytail that swung from side to side as she scampered away. She reminded him of a little bird.
Tom got back into his vehicle and drove to work, but the vision of Ruth filled his mind, disturbing his concentration. He kept wondering how she was. Was she still upset? And why? Perhaps Brad, whoever he was, was ill treating her. He sighed and pushed thoughts of Ruth out of his head and got on with his work.
It was a heavy day, and three meetings cut into his time so much he ended up staying late to clear up his emails and paperwork. By the time he had done, it was after 7pm when he headed out of the building to the car park.
"Good night, Mr Harper," said the security man respectfully.
"Good night, George." Tom smiled and deposited his briefcase on the passenger seat of his car. There was still work to be done later. He sighed. Owning a rapidly expanding company was highly satisfying but it could also be very demanding. Once again, he resolved to delegate more. And why not? He had a talented team of middle and senior managers. "See you tomorrow," he called through the window as George locked the gates behind him.
"Yes sir," came the response.
Like all Tom's employees, George liked and respected Tom Harper. He was one of those men who had a quietly commanding presence, and in spite of his obvious wealth was in no way ostentatious. He communicated with people at all levels, and regardless of whether they were a senior business executive or a member of the cleaning staff, he treated them all with respect. Although only in his early thirties, Tom had built the company from scratch and provided several hundred jobs for people in the local community, including George and his two sons. George was grateful for that, and in return was loyal and hardworking.
Tom flipped the switch to close the car window and headed home. Usually a controlled and methodical man, he acted impulsively and made the detour to the road near the postbox where he had encountered Ruth. It would of course be extremely unlikely he would see her there again. He was right. Disappointed and curious, he glanced at the house where he assumed she lived. The curtains were open at the room at the front of the house and he could just make out a flicker of a television set, but of Ruth there was no sign. He shrugged, not even sure why he had made the detour, and drove home.
Dinner was a hurried affair, achieved by foraging in the freezer. As a bachelor, Tom wasn't without any culinary abilities, but rarely bothered cooking unless he had guests. After he had eaten he relaxed with a coffee, and then picked up his briefcase. There was work to be done. He remembered his earlier resolve and decided it was high time he took some time off. Looking at his diary, once this week was over he could easily juggle a few appointments and offload his existing commitments to his team leaders. It would be great to get away. And there was the cottage up in North Yorkshire...
The more he thought about it, the more pleasing and feasible the whole idea sounded. He had bought the cottage last year as a holiday home - a place to hide away in and relax from the pressures of work. It was situated on the east coast, only half a mile away from the sea. He chided himself for being so busy as he had neglected the place, only managing to spend two weekends there since he bought it. A three week spell would be idyllic. He began to plan. As he had earlier installed broadband he could take his laptop and keep in touch with work from time to time. The rest of the time would be spent on tidying the cottage up, playing golf, walking, fishing, and reading.
Although Tom was a sociable man, he was also quite content with his own company, and the prospect of three weeks rest and relaxation was something to really look forward to. "Shame about Daisy though," he muttered to himself.
He and Daisy had been in a relationship for almost a year. He had been lucky to find a woman who shared his kinky interests. He smiled at the recollection. He'd met Daisy online, and after a period of emailing and phone calls, they had met up and got to know each other better. Daisy had a sweet submissive nature and knew exactly what she needed - a firm and naturally dominant man to protect her, nurture her, and discipline her when she was naughty ... and sometimes just for the fun of it. Tom fulfilled that role admirably. Daisy hadn't been the love of his life, but he was saddened when she went to live in Spain. It had been a difficult decision for her, but her employers had offered her a big promotion, one that was just too good to turn down, so off she went, and Tom wished her well. He knew she would soon find another protector to take care of her.
Thinking of Daisy reminded him of Ruth. The two were alike in that they were both slightly built, diminutive and pretty. Daisy was 23 but looked years younger. He wondered how old Ruth was. Those big brown eyes and tearful face haunted him.
Little did he know that he was to meet her again.
Tom had a busy week. His schedule was manic. He met with his team leaders and produced work plans and targets, reviewed new contracts, looked over the accounts, and a million other things. By Friday he was confident that everyone would not only survive perfectly well without him being around, but do a damn good job in his absence.
He left the office a little after 6pm and felt exuberant and carefree - so when he saw the golden arches of MacDonald's, he grinned boyishly.
"Sod it, I'll have a Big Mac with large fries."
He parked up and headed into the restaurant. Being Friday, it was fairly crowded. He hovered for a moment with his tray, looking for a space. Most of the tables were occupied, but there was one by the window that had a couple of vacant seats. He headed towards it and deposited his tray, and then looked in surprise at the girl at the next table.
It was Ruth.
She recognised him and smiled shyly. "Hello, Tom. I thought it was you."
"Hey Ruth!" His face broke into a grin. "Great to see you. Are you by yourself?"
"Yes."
"Well so am I. Would you like to come and sit here? I don't bite."
She giggled. "Ok." She picked up her milkshake and cheeseburger and plonked herself down opposite him. "I'm Ruthie."
"Yeah. I heard what's-his-name call you Ruth - but Ruthie is so much better. It suits you."
"Thanks." She smiled prettily and slurped her milkshake up through a plastic straw.
"You know, the first time I saw you, I thought you were a little girl. But I reckon you're probably a fair bit older. Am I right?"
She leaned over conspiratorially. "Believe it or not, I'm twenty."
"No way! You look so much younger."
"I'll take that as a compliment. But it has its downsides too. I have to carry ID around with me or I won't get served in pubs and clubs."
"Ah, so you go pubbing and clubbing do you?"
"Sometimes. But ..." Her face fell.
"But?" queried Tom. Now that they had bumped into each other again like this, he was determined to find out all he could about her. She was captivating with her bright smile and her cute yellow shorts and white t-shirt. And although she was tiny, she had curves in all the right places.
"Well ... Brad doesn't like me going places."
"Ok. Tell me about Brad. I'm kinda nosey," he added with a disarming smile.
"Well, I live with him."
"Oh damn. And I thought I was in with a chance." Now it was Tom's turn to look woebegone.
"He's not my boyfriend or anything," Ruthie said.
"Hey - could be today is my lucky day after all! Go on - so who is he?"
"He's a friend who has helped me out big time. I'm an only child and Mum died two years ago," she began.
"I'm sorry to hear that."
"Thanks. It was traumatic, as you can imagine. I was 18 and just about to start college. We never had much money. My mum... was ..." she faltered, "... she was an alcoholic, you see."
"Ah. You poor thing."
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