THE BUTTERFLY WHEEL Read online

  THE BUTTERFLY WHEEL

  Keith Short

  The Butterfly Wheel

  Copyright ©2023 Keith Short

  The moral right of the author has been asserted in accordance with The Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, copied, or transmitted in any medium, whether electronic, internet or otherwise without the prior permission of the author.

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, locations, and names occurring in this book are the product of the author’s imagination or are the property of their respective owners and are used fictionally. Any resemblances to actual events, locations, or persons (living or dead) are entirely coincidental and are not intended by the author. All trademarks and trade names are used in a fictitious manner and are in no way endorsed by or an endorsement of their respective owners.

  Editing by: Fiction Feedback.

  Formatting by: Polgarus Studios

  Cover design by: Books Covered

  Published by: Kindle Direct Publishing

  ISBN

  CONTENTS

  PART 1: THE WILD BUNCH CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  PART 2: SUSPICIOUS MINDS CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  PART 3: THE GANG OF THREE CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  CHAPTER 29

  CHAPTER 30

  CHAPTER 31

  CHAPTER 32

  CHAPTER 33

  PART 4: THE DIRTY DOZEN CHAPTER 34

  CHAPTER 35

  CHAPTER 36

  CHAPTER 37

  CHAPTER 38

  CHAPTER 39

  CHAPTER 40

  CHAPTER 41

  CHAPTER 42

  CHAPTER 43

  CHAPTER 44

  CHAPTER 45

  CHAPTER 46

  CHAPTER 47

  CHAPTER 48

  CHAPTER 49

  Also by Keith Short

  PART 1: THE WILD BUNCH

  CHAPTER 1

  May

  The wild beasts glistened in the sunlight. His heart racing with anticipation, Jake Vickers stroked the back of his charger and savoured the sound of its gentle purring. At last, he was going to ride with the pack, take his rightful place among his peers and show them what he could do. One final glance at the others, one deft twist of the wrist and the early morning peace around Montpellier Gardens was shattered. Birds flew upwards, passers-by stopped to look, nearby children stopped playing. It was a gorgeous machine. Sleek electric blue fairings, twin exhausts that would shoot at the sun, silver-chrome shining mirrors of metal cradling the engine at its pumping heart. The other riders cheered and took to their bikes. Jake throttled down the engine and turned towards Everly.

  ‘What do you think then, Ev? Sex on two wheels if you ask me.’

  ‘I can see you prefer it to me. But don’t forget, you’ve only just passed your Cat A and you’re nowhere near as experienced as they are.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Everly, we’ll look after him,’ Dick Cardwell shouted, before pulling his helmet over his head and starting his own bike.

  The rest of the pack followed suit. The deafening roar from five revving motorbikes was soon attracting strollers on the far side of the park, passengers on the double-decker buses and probably half of Cheltenham. The bikes cruised towards the gates with Jake at the back of the group. One by one, they nipped into the traffic which was slowly making its way along the Promenade. Dangerous animals merging with the docile herd. Jake was last to go.

  Take it easy, he thought he heard Everly shout above the noise of the engine.

  He waved his arm high in the air in response. But didn’t look back.

  Everly Boyd waved at the riders as they set off on their excursion through the Gloucestershire countryside, grateful they’d left the park before the police arrived.

  ‘Goodbye, Jake,’ she said under her breath. ‘Come back safely, you lovely man.’

  The bikes were gone and the petrol fumes with them. The ringing in her ears would soon stop. As if a picture postcard of Montpellier Gardens had magically sprung to life, Sunday in the park returned to normal. Welcome to Regency Cheltenham.

  The temperature was rising, the park becoming busy. The paths would soon be teeming with families and the first of the picnickers were already setting up around her. A brass band started playing in the distance. Everly removed her cardigan and tied it round her waist. Shielding her eyes from the sun, she checked each of the temporary awnings that had been set up to function as cafes, bars and galleries for local art and photographic societies.

  There she is.

  Fiona was waving from the outdoor seating area.

  Everly waved back and threaded her way across the grass towards her. It had been just over four months since Fiona had introduced her to Jake. She smiled to herself at the thought of the Butterleigh Insurance New Year’s Eve bash, her first opportunity to mix socially since she’d reluctantly landed in this part of the world to start work at GCHQ. He’d been the life and soul of the party that evening. Flitting between women at the bar like a bee moves between flowers. A player, a charmer, a womaniser. That’s how they all saw him and he made no effort to disguise it. Yet, to her, he was an opportunity. He was just perfect. And now she was his number one, the woman he took to the cinema or the theatre and social functions like birthday parties and celebratory meals. But there was always a number two and a number three. She never saw them but she heard about them and had to make sure they never lasted long enough to be a threat. Yet she was in a good place with Jake. Back to her old self and determined not to dwell on the traumas of the past year.

  ‘Hi, Fee.’ She kissed her friend on the cheek and slung her cardigan over the back of the patio chair.

  Fiona lit a cigarette, tilted her head back and blew the smoke upwards.

  ‘I’ve taken the liberty of ordering us coffee, it’s just arrived. Is that OK?’

  ‘Thanks,’ Everly said before sipping at her cappuccino. ‘Sorry about the racket.’ She slid her eyes to one side. ‘Were they all . . .?’

  ‘Horrified? What do you think? You know, I had you down as a theatre-goer and coffee snob when we first met. Just the sort who’d choose to live in a place like Cheltenham. What’s with this sudden interest in motorbikes, or need I ask?’

  ‘I was interested in bikes before I came here. My father used to take me on the back of one when I was a teenager. Out in the open air, wind sweeping at your face: you should try it. You could do with an interest outside Cheltonian socialising.’

  ‘If it was a sports car you were talking about, and a handsome millionaire driving it instead of a greasy set of rockers on their smelly bikes . . . well, I might be interested.’ Fiona took a long drag on her cigarette.

  ‘Hmm. I suppose if all you ever do is sit in the passenger seat of a car, you’re hardly going to don a set of leathers.’

  ‘Yuck. And you can say what you like, you’re not going to change my opinion of Jake Vickers.’ She flicked her ash into the tray and leaned forward. ‘Look, Ev. He knows he’s charismatic and he’s milking it. You think of him as a swashbuckling hero but he’s just a spoilt brat. How much do you think that motorbike cost his parents?’

  Everly squeezed her mouth into a half-smile and shook her head.

  ‘I’ve always realised you and Jake don’t get on. But why? What’s he ever done to you?’

  ‘Nothing specifically. It’s just that I have no time for Jack-the-lad types.’ Fiona took hold of her hand. ‘You know, Ev, I don’t actually dislike him. I can even understand his behaviour to some extent. He’s very bright and people like that get bored easily. They need an outlet and, in Jake’s case, it’s chasing women.’

  ‘I know all this, Fee. We have people like Jake at GCHQ. I know exactly what I’m getting involved in and it suits me. That’s something else you could try, by the way. Male company. Just think, we could go out as a foursome occasionally. It would be a nice change.’

  ‘I have had boyfriends, you know. But I steer clear of men like Jake . . .’

  You haven’t done much steering in any direction since I’ve known you.

  ‘And when I see you and him, together –’ she was shaking her head – ‘it’s just not natural. It’s as if I don’t know who you are.’

  How right you are, Fiona. You and Jake must never know who I am.

  It was time to change the subject.

  ‘Those cigarettes. Don’t you think you should give them up? They’re bad for your health.’

  ‘I’m not stupid. I understand that. But it’s my life, and smoking gives me pleasure. Why should I stop?’

  ‘There you are. You’ve proved my point.’

  Everly stared at her, seeking her reaction. The edges of Fiona’s mouth twitched and curled upwards.

  ‘What?’ she said, obviously suppressing a grin.

  ‘That’s exactly how I feel about Ja
ke.’

  Jake sat proudly astride his Yamaha YZF-R1 superbike and wondered if this was how professional riders felt at the start of a motorcycle Grand Prix.

  ‘Three of us will go on ahead,’ Dick Cardwell said. ‘We’ll take it easy at first. Give you a chance to adjust. Tommo’s going to follow and he’ll let you know how you did when we get to the other end. The road should be clear but there’s always the chance of farm traffic. So, watch out for us braking hard.’

  ‘And don’t forget the pothole,’ Tommo added.

  Dick gave Jake a reassuring smile and a pat on the shoulder. ‘You up for this, mate?’

  ‘I’m ready,’ Jake said, the adrenalin already flowing through his veins.

  The first bend was two hundred metres away at the end of a stretch of straight road and, following the two practice runs earlier that morning, Jake knew the exact spot to apply the brakes. Dick had talked him through the first run and after that, he’d done it all again, this time with the benefit of Tommo’s experience. ‘It’s easy when you’re cruising at thirty,’ Tommo had told him. ‘But you need to keep your nerve when you hit the bend at seventy.’

  Jake snapped shut his visor and throttled the engine.

  ‘Ready?’ Dick called out from the front.

  The roar from the bikes ahead of him was enthralling and Jake’s heart beat faster. He could do anything with these guys around him.

  ‘Let’s go!’

  Jake watched the three riders disappear down the straight and, one after the other, shrink into the bend. They’d slow down on the other side and let him catch them. Then it would be a game of keep-up.

  ‘Go, Jake!’ Tommo yelled.

  Jake released the clutch, rolled back the throttle and, for the first time, experienced the full power of the machine between his legs. Two gear changes and four seconds later, his right foot eased in the rear braking and he leaned into the first bend.

  Decelerate, lean further, shift weight, accelerate. The bike straightened. He dropped a gear and roared along the next section of road.

  Whoa! Nothing like it.

  A mile from the start, Jake came out of a shallow bend and slowed to take in the sight ahead of him. The empty road was like a grey ribbon sewn onto the rolling landscape and, at the end of it, the lead bikers were waiting for him at the side of a grass verge. This was going to be the ride of a lifetime.

  He dipped his head low, widened his elbows and accelerated. The sleeves of his jacket fluttered in the wind and he cursed himself for not spending more money on a decent set of racing leathers. No time to worry about that, though. The next tight bend was approaching.

  Halfway round the bend, he leaned heavily and the butterflies in his stomach took flight. Gravity was going to win unless he accelerated. Friction on his side, a quick twist of the throttle and he’d be out of this situation. Go!

  It worked like a dream.

  No stopping him now. Careful management of acceleration, braking and lean angles. Welding them together until man and machine became one, he was in complete control – exhilarated beyond his wildest imagination.

  His riding skills were improving by the minute and confidence in his own ability swelled. He pulled out of the next bend. Andy and Ben took off in front of him from a standing start. Those guys were scary quick. No way he’d catch them.

  ‘Well done, mate,’ Dick shouted, as Jake overtook him.

  One hundred metres down the gently winding road, Dick flew past him on his Ducati, turned in his seat and, grinning like a Cheshire cat, gave him a friendly wave.

  So, it was a challenge, was it? He’d keep up with Dick if it was the last thing he ever did.

  Straining his new-found acumen to the limit, he opened the throttle fully down every straight. Yet after every bend, Dick would accelerate away from him before slowing to let him catch up.

  Minutes later, Dick had disappeared over the horizon and the finish line was within sight across the fields to his left. Andy and Ben were standing beside their bikes next to an old farmyard gate, vigorously waving two arms above their heads.

  One final left-hander to go and it was the tightest on the track. Endorphins buzzing in time with the engine, he declutched and revved hard.

  Tommo came up behind him. Was he going to try and pass him on the final straight? Down towards the bottom of the dip, Dick had stopped at the head of the bend and was signalling for him to slow down. Tommo moved alongside. He’d be expecting him to apply the brakes any second now. How wrong he was.

  Jake slipped a gear, left Tommo for dead and a second later almost gave Dick a shave. He braked like a veteran and leaned into the bend until his knee scraped the tarmac.

  The horns behind him blared.

  ‘Jake, watch out for—’

  He accelerated out of the bend and straightened.

  Shit!

  He was heading straight for the black jaws of hell. He pulled the bike to the left, forgetting to lean. The bike went into an uncontrollable wobble. In defiance of everything he’d learned at the riding school, he slammed both brakes hard on. The brakes locked and the bike went into a skid. The world moved past him in slow motion. The hole in the middle of the road seemed bigger than it was this morning. With an almighty thump, the bike came to a dead halt. But he continued. Up, up and over, his helmet visor flying to one side and the landscape spinning around him.

  Falling.

  The ground was coming up fast.

  Shouting.

  Jake!

  A crumpled blast filled his head.

  Silence. Time passed.

  The sky was sinking and the distant sound of helicopter blades subsiding. He could no longer smell the slurry in the fields and there was no feeling in his body. One by one, his senses were deserting him. He opened his mouth to call for help. But no words came.

  Everly paced the kitchen floor with a half-empty glass of red wine in her hand. It was always the same with Fiona. Lovely warm day, relaxing get-together and all she could think about was a cold character assassination of a mutual friend. Well, it just wouldn’t do. As long as she adopted that attitude, her friendship with Fiona was under serious threat.

  She drained down the wine and refilled her glass.

  Fee took pleasure in reminding her of the other women in Jake’s life. But those extras weren’t interested in Jake’s personality, or even his looks. It was his inheritance. As an only child, that modernised farmhouse in Newent and the land that went with it would be his one day. She’d seen the avarice in their eyes at his posh thirtieth do and word soon spread among the young socialites of Cheltenham. It had to be the money.

  Her mobile phone was ringing. No one ever called her at this time of night. Not any more, they didn’t. She set down her glass and picked up the phone. The call was from a landline. She answered it.

  ‘Hello?’

  The caller said nothing.

  There was a faint sob. Here, I’ll speak to her, she heard someone whisper.

  A short burst of static was followed by a clear voice.

  ‘Everly?’

  ‘Yes?’

  After a long silence, the woman spoke again.

  ‘Everly, it’s Sandra, Jake’s mother. I have some bad news.’

  It was the first time she’d been afforded the status of Jake’s bona fide girlfriend. But there was no warm glow to be had from his mother’s willingness to discuss a family matter. Instead, an icy chill made her shake.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘It’s Jake. There’s been a motorbike accident. He—’

  ‘How is he?’ Everly screamed.

  ‘He’s badly hurt, but there’s no threat to his life. They’re assessing his injuries now, so we can’t see him until the morning. I’ll ring Butterleigh before we go to the hospital. Let them know he’s going to be off sick for a while.’

  ‘Which hospital?’

  ‘The trauma unit at Gloucester Royal.’

  ‘Is there anything I can do?’

  ‘Nothing for now. We’ll see you tomorrow.’

  Numb and empty, locked in an oppressive silence, she prayed it was all another bad dream. A man’s broken voice sounded in the background, presumably Jake’s father. A moment later, Sandra spoke again.