Prologue

Major Thomas Hazlehurst fought beside General John Churchill, 1st Duke of Marlborough, at the Battle of Malplaquet on the French-Belgium border in September 1709, forcing the French army to retreat. The Major saved Churchill’s life during the battle. On Churchill’s return to England, in gratitude, he offered the Major one of his smaller, less used Estates, which carried the title of Earl. In 1711, the first Earl Thomas Hazlehurst renamed the holding to Hazlehurst Estate.

Ten generations of Hazlehurst had occupied the Estate since then. The current Earl is Lord Robert and Lady Christine Hazelhurst, who live on the Estate with their two daughters.

Peter’s Story:

I was a virgin when I met Valerie Stein while playing the piano at the Subway Bar & Grill near St. James Park subway station to make ends meet. Valerie was a woman of the world, exuding sexuality and confidence. She was gorgeous and some three years younger than me.

Over the coming months, I couldn’t help but watch her body sway as she waited on tables, catching glimpses of her scantily clad bottom as she bent over. Male patrons were constantly hitting on her. She had a way of putting them off without offending them.

Valerie noticed me watching her and gave me a wink. A short while later, she returned with a soft drink for me. “Thanks,” I say, wishing I could say something clever to impress her.

I realised I had to make more conversation other than just stuttering, “H ... hi, Valerie,” whenever we met each work night.

Knowing she used the subway to come and go to the Bar, I hung around outside until she finished cleaning tables. I waited for her to exit the Bar’s back door, where we finally met face-to-face.

I said quickly, “Valerie, can I give you a lift home?”

She replied in a lusty voice, “How do you know where I live?”

Stumbling, I blurted out, “I’m sure it’s near my place, so hop in.”

I held the passenger door open, and she entered the car. Then, giving me directions, I set off. Unfortunately, it was in the opposite direction to my flat. Oh well, that’s the price of infatuation!

Valerie asked, “How long have you been playing the piano? You’re good at it.” I briefly describe my university years, obtaining a degree in music studies.

“How long have you been waitressing?” I asked.

She replied. “Ever since leaving school. Some four years now.”

My eyes kept darting to her short skirt and long legs, and she caught me looking and gave me a smirk. But she didn’t do anything about the shortness.

Suddenly, she said, “Here we are; that’s my building over there. Thanks for the lift.” She left a kiss on my cheek and disappeared into the building. I watched for a light in the window to see which one was her flat. She stood at the window, giving me a small wave. I waved back, then drove back to my flat with a smile, a soft kiss on my cheek and a feeling on top of the world.

On my way home, I reminisced about my University days. I had dated some fellow female students from around my University and had a few kissing sessions. But there were rarely second dates. I was always shy around girls, especially if I fancied them, which made me tongue-tied. Thankfully, I was too busy with my studies to date, having an ambition of achieving a music degree.

Becoming more confident, Valerie and my relationship quickly gathered momentum from there on, and before long, we were dating in our spare time. We were mutually attracted to one another, and it felt like it was impossible to stop, like two magnets.

We were taking time for ourselves - having a picnic lunch in the park, falling asleep under a willow tree in each other’s arms and riding bicycles around the London cycleways. Nothing expensive, just simple things. As long as we are together, we find enjoyment.

While lying on a rug in Hyde Park one lazy Sunday afternoon, Valerie told me she had left school at sixteen doing various part-time cafe and bar waitress jobs over the last four years. Last year, she worked full-time as a cocktail waitress at the Subway Bar & Grill.

I told Valerie my parents scrimped and saved for my university education. While studying, I worked part-time in local pubs to save money to purchase instruments, books and the like. Now, I can play the piano, saxophone, clarinet, and acoustic guitar. I wanted to do more in life than just teaching music to school children. Getting the job as a pianist playing dinner background music while customers dined was a start.

Our romance blossomed, and within six months, we were a couple. Valerie moved into my bigger flat. Valerie taught me about sex and how to please a woman.

To this day, I still vividly remember our first night together. Valerie took my hand and led me into the bedroom, facing each other. As we kissed, it became more and more passionate. Her arms around my neck, mine around her waist, pulling her into a tight embrace. I felt my penis become erect, and Valerie noticed and rubbed her abdomen against me. I had to pull back before coming in my pants, breaking our embrace.

With a knowing smirk on her lips, in a husky voice, she said, “Take my clothes off, Peter.”

Stepping behind her with trembling fingers, I unzipped her dress, dropping it to the floor in a puddle of clothing. Next, I fumbled with the clasp to her bra but finally got it open and tossed it aside. My hand slipped around her chest, cupping her warm breasts in my hands. My thumbs flicked over her now stiff nipples, getting a moan from Valerie.

“All my clothes,” she responded with a groan.

Dropping to my knees, pulling her panties down her long legs, she stepped out of them one leg at a time. I kissed both her bottom cheeks, and then she turned around. I noticed she had a trimmed bush. She was standing with her legs apart enough for me to see her vagina lips and close enough to smell her.

Valerie pulled me to my feet, and we kissed again. My hands went from her waist to her ass, and I pulled Valerie against my groin. I was very nervous and aroused, having never embraced a naked woman.

Breaking the kiss, she removed my shirt and the rest of my clothes. Pulling my underpants down, my stiff cock sprang free, pointing upward. Gently taking my cock in her hands, she stroked it up and down slowly - I almost came, but she seemed to know when to stop.

Valerie laid back on the bed, splaying her legs open for me to view her pussy. I stood spellbound, having never seen a naked woman’s vagina before except in pictures. Her fingers slowly caressed her pussy traced her labia lips, and I could see her moisture.

Explaining, “This is my vagina, here is my clitoris,” she gasped when her finger touched and rubbed the small protruding knob of white flesh. “And down here, in my love passage, this is where you fit into me, and we make love. Come now, quickly fill my love hole,” she cried.

Placing my cock at her opening, she gave a small sigh as I slipped past her entrance into her depth, filling her until our groynes met, and I could no longer go further. The feeling was overwhelmingly wonderful. Then I started sliding my cock back and forth, increasing my speed and going faster and faster. I could hear Valerie’s grunting to the rhythm of my thrusts until I came violently. With each spasm, I could feel myself spurting into her. Then, I collapsed on top, supporting my weight with my elbows.

Looking at Valerie’s face, I could see the mirth in her eyes. She knew I would only last a couple of minutes. I kissed her, saying, “I promised to do better next time.”

Valerie was intrigued by my artistic nature and enjoyed my serenading her. Recognising my musical capability, she suggested I spend my daytime composing while she worked part-time at the local café, encouraging me to write more sheet music.

But I noticed there is also a hard side to Valerie. She had a ‘sharp tongue’, remembering past events and habitually bringing them up to embarrass people.

Once, after a hard day at the cafe, Valerie arrived home to find me diligently working on sheet music. I had gotten so carried away that I hadn’t done any housework. She angrily said, “You’re sitting around all day on your ass at home, playing with your guitar, while I’m out working my ass off!” Verbally abusing me. I struggled to understand why - after all, it was her idea! I’m not good at conflict and shy anyway. She can be a bully at times.

One morning, after a particularly satisfying, hot night of sex, I heard her singing in the shower while making morning coffee and realised she had an excellent musical voice.

Now, it was my turn to teach Valerie, in this case, how to sing and hold a note. We spent three months working on Valerie’s singing training her voice. I also taught her the basics of how to read sheet music. Finally, I persuaded my old retired high school music and choir teacher to help Valerie fine-tune her singing voice for a small cash gratuity.

While I continued to write music scores, Valerie helped with the lyrics. We churned out six songs. But Valerie’s favourite was the first song I wrote while at University. ‘The Cuckoo Cries’ is a mother’s lament for losing a young child.

We auditioned for the Subway Bar & Grill owner. I played the piano while Valerie sang. He offered us a thirty-minute musical gig each weeknight. Valerie still waitressed, and I continued to play dinner music, but we got to perform together on stage for a captured audience each weeknight. Some patrons dance on the small dance floor in front of the stage. Friday and Saturday night, they have pop bands in and don’t need Valerie or me.

I made recordings of our nightly performances, which I edited later. I took the finished recordings to various London music recording companies but needed help to break into the musical world. However, we still got small singing gigs at weddings, parties, dinners and the like throughout the London area.

We were doing okay money-wise and decided to paint the inside of the flat, enjoying the challenge side by side. Together, we managed to assemble an Ikea bookshelf. I purchased a new lounge and a big-screen TV. We spent a weekend hiking in the Surry Hills south of London, staying in a pub overnight. Our favourite was visiting the Brighton seaside, running along the beach, getting wet by the waves, and making love in the cove.

It was late one night together in bed; I asked about her family. She told me she had left home two years before turning eighteen. A year later, her Mum and Dad were killed in a car accident - her Dad was drunk. After that, Valerie’s siblings were farmed off to various relatives, none of whom she had seen since.

It was the following Saturday night when I asked Valerie to marry me. She nearly shagged (fucked) me to death. I guess that was her answer. Much to my Mum’s dislike, we did a simple registry office ceremony. But times were tough, and we loved each other. Mr and Mrs Hollingsworth’s future looked promising.

We were still playing at the Subway Bar & Grill on weeknights when I heard of a once-a-month job playing dinner music at a Gentlemen’s Club for members and their wives. The regular piano musician, an acquaintance from Uni, became seriously ill, so he suggested I apply for the job. It paid very well, and it so happened that on Saturday nights, we were free. However, the club manager wanted an audition, so I brought Valerie to make a duet. After perfecting it over the past year, the manager is impressed with our performance. He hires us and explains the dress code required. So we needed to make some clothing purchases.

After six Gentlemen’s club performances - one evening, while we were taking a break, a five-thousand-pound suit approached us. He claimed to be the CEO of EMI Music. He complimented Valerie on her singing and saw possibilities for her in the music industry. He gave her the EMI music manager’s name and number and suggested she call him on Monday for a demo session.

We rehearsed most of Sunday on several songs I had written and a few others for backup. Valerie called at ten in the morning and connected to Don Thomas, the music manager. They talked briefly, where Valerie outlined her singing experience of the past eighteen months - a date for two in the afternoon on Wednesday.

‘You were working as a waitress in a cocktail bar ... When I met you.

They were surprised when Valerie turned up with me in tow. We were escorted to the recording studio’s control room. I was relegated to a stool in the corner and dismissed. At University, I used big audio production desks similar in size and was familiar with their features and attributes. But I kept my counsel.

After Valerie discussed various songs, she was taken to a small booth with headphones and a microphone. Valerie made several demo recordings and requested a musical piece she was very familiar with. The song was titled, ‘The Cuckoo Cries’. Valerie explains the music is written to suit her vocal range.

Suitably impressed with the song and recording of it. Don suggests laying it down as the demo track. When they discovered I wrote the music and lyrics, they invited me to lay down the piano and guitar tracks. The sound engineer (Bob) spent the next few hours working on the song, adding double-tracking and some of me harmonising with Valerie.

Finally, we were thanked and told the song would go before a committee to establish if it was worth releasing to radio stations as a single. Don said he would be in touch, “Don’t call us. We’ll call you.”

A month later, Valerie was called and asked to re-record ‘The Cuckoo Cries’ with an orchestra accompaniment. I wasn’t needed during the recording, But they offered me a position as a studio session musician, and I’d be called when required.

‘The Cuckoo Cries’ surprised everyone and shot to the top of the charts in three weeks, staying there for two weeks. Valerie’s career had taken off. Six months later, following up on her top hit single, Valerie recorded an album of my songs with our lyrics, which went to number one.

Valerie’s money was pouring in. Mine could have been more lucrative. So I kept writing sheet music and playing solo dinner music at the Subway Bar & Grill weeknights and Gentlemen’s Club once a month. Valerie became too big of a star to play there anymore, so I started doing it independently as I still enjoyed entering people and having fun doing it.

‘I picked you out, I shook you up ... And turned you around ... Turned you into someone new’.

We moved into a penthouse apartment big enough for six people. Her manager insisted she needed it for parties and guests staying over. However, most of the time, I’m the only one there. She was always off to be interviewed on TV or Radio. Partying with the likes of Elton Johns, Paul McCartney, Bobbie Williams and other celebrities

Impressed with my musical ability, EMI studio offered me a full-time studio session musician at an outrageous rate per session, which I could refuse. Bob, the audio engineer and I became good friends. He was impressed with my musical credentials and recommended me to other artists as a songwriter. We spent many hours together over the following months with other musicians, creating backing music for many artists.

I quickly wrote a song for a relatively unknown male singer visiting the USA. The song goes on to be his first big hit in the States. So, session music has become my primary source of revenue. But I still enjoy my monthly Gentleman’s Club gig and need a female voice to accompany me.

The best way to find out what Valerie was doing was to watch the TV society news. I couldn’t contact her on the mobile phone as her assistant (PA) intercepted all her calls and told Valerie she would call me back. But I hear Valerie’s voice in the background, saying. “I haven’t got time to talk to him now.”

‘You know I can’t believe it when I hear you won’t see me ... Don’t. Don’t you want me’?

Valerie rolled in at seven in the morning without explaining where she stayed the night before. She didn’t offer me a kiss or hug, off for a quick shower before a light breakfast - a change of clothes for a working lunch with some music director for her first live concert. Valerie told me with some pride that she would earn one-half-million pounds for three hours on stage. Ted Wild’s band was the second billing. Valerie was the star attraction.

I asked, “Do you need any help?”

Only to be bluntly told, “It’s all in the hands of the concert director. They don’t need or want your help.”

“Can you get me a ticket for the concert?”

She replied half-heartedly, “Sure, darling.”

Her next question was, “Where’s my next song?”

We hadn’t had sex for three months, and she wants a song, ah!

I didn’t see Valerie for a week before the live concert in Edinburgh and then a week of after-parties. Trying to phone Valerie is a waste of time; her PA just put me off. So, who knew where she was?

I never did get that concert ticket. The concert was a huge success, and I watched it on TV. I noticed her voice could not hit some of the higher notes, maybe a stage tension. Her ego was so big now - there wasn’t any room for me.

‘Don’t ... Don’t you want me ... Don’t you want me ... Baby’.

Now, some fifteen months after her first hit song with three follow singles off the album, all in the top ten of the Top 40 charts, written by me. Valerie’s first song had been nominated for the British Music Awards.

We attended the awards two months later, where she was honoured with her first gold disc. I’m allowed to accompany her because I wrote her top hit songs.

‘Now, three years later, you’ve got the world at your feet ... Success has been so easy for you.’

That night we attended a party in her honour with all the other celebrities and hangers-on, full of bullshit. It just wasn’t my scene. No one here was interested in what I might say, so I was left to wander independently. Being a warm summer evening, I moved out of the way into the garden.

While sitting on the bench, I found myself humming a tune that had been in my head for the past few days when I heard a female say, “Are you humming to yourself? Or are you just happy?”

Her well-modulated female voice caught me by surprise, bringing me out of my state of reverie. Not only did she have a great-sounding voice, she looked beautiful as well. She was not as strikingly attractive as Valerie, but I could see by her face that she had inner beauty.

I stood up and said, “Hi, I’m Peter,” holding my hand. She was around five foot seven, brown hair, well-figured with smallish breasts and a trim waist.

“Helen,” she returned, shaking my hand. “Who are you here with?”

I blurt out, “Valerie.” Then, ask, “Who are you accompanying?”

Without answering the question, Helen surmises, “It would appear we are both ducks out of water!”

Running out of conversation, we sit quietly. Looking into the main ballroom, I see Valerie hanging off the arm of a supposedly up-and-coming songwriter, Bill Been. Valerie was giving him small touches. Bill had written a minor song for a pop-rock band that Ted Wild is the lead guitarist. The song reached 5th position on the Top 40. Ted has a big ego and boasts Bill is the next top songwriter.

Helen suddenly broke the relative quiet of the garden and said, “Ted Wild was my date, and he’s a right idiot.”

“So, how do you know him, and why are you here?”

“Short story, I’m his accountant. I met him for the first time last week to sort out his back taxes. Now he’s making great money; the VAT man is after him. He took a fancy to me and asked me to the Awards.”

I didn’t respond, and Helen continued. “So you’re married to Valerie, and you’re her songwriter?”

“Yeah, that’s me,” in a depressing voice.

“Okay, and that tune you were humming is your next Top 40 chartbuster?”

She appeared to be well-informed. So I told her about a new song I was composing.

Helen suggests we use the piano in the music room so she can hear the notes. Leading me down the hallway to the room, Helen explained she did music studies and sang in the school and church choir throughout her school years.

I played the tune on the piano – it took a couple of tries until I got the correct key. Helen quickly caught on to the melody and took over the piano. I picked up a guitar and played the refrain together until we got the chorus down pat.

I was impressed with her musical ability. So, I asked if she would be interested in playing dinner music with me at a London Gentleman’s Club once a month. After getting an affirmative, we swapped mobile numbers.

We were still rehearsing when we were interrupted by Valerie, Ted and Bill.

Valerie announces, “We wondered where you two had got to.”

Bill admonishes me, saying, “You have no idea how to play a guitar.” I let him think what he likes, unwilling to argue the toss.

As we all leave the room, Ted asks, “What was the instrumental tune you two were playing?”

I replied. “Oh ... just a melody stuck in my head.”

In the limousine on the way to the apartment, Valerie told me Ted had promised to write a song for her. I replied that it couldn’t hurt to diversify.

She fucked me silly that night, like the old days before we were married. But it’s just sex - there is no lovemaking. I wondered if she was bribing me to write her a song or feeling guilty for some reason. I couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to our relationship!

The following morning at breakfast, Valerie asked, “Who was that woman playing the piano last night?”

I responded, “That was Helen, Bill’s friend.”

Valerie scolded me, “I hope you were not playing my next song to her. When will the song be ready to record?”

“It still needs a bit of polishing, but soon.”

Again, if Ted had written her a song, why does she need mine? So, I decided to take my time to finish it.

With that, she informed me, “I’m off to co-host a Sunday celebrity TV show,” saying, “I still love you,” as she walked out the door in an off-handed way without waiting for my response.

I call out, “I love you too.” But I was starting to wonder if I did. She had changed so much.

‘I turned you around ... It turned you into someone new ... Don’t, ... Don’t you want me’.

I called Helen, asking if she could play dinner music at a Gentlemen’s Club next Saturday. I needed a pianist and singer for next Saturday. She said she would love to do that, and we made arrangements.

I didn’t see Valerie for the first half of the week. Then, she trooped in with her entourage on Wednesday afternoon. Explaining she would spend the rest of the week, including the weekend, at Ted’s country house, fine-tuning his song for her. The EMI studios had been booked for Monday morning to do the recording.

Helen was a smashing success at the Gentleman’s Club, getting a round of applause for her singing performance. The club manager praised me for finding a great singer. He only hopes that we keep her from the pop world.

When I turned up at EMI recording studios on Monday afternoon, Bob told me Valerie and Ted had left.

Bob and I had become good friends over the past two years. Having spent many hours together in the studio and several evenings at the pub. He told me the song Ted had written was terrible - it had no rhyme or rhythm. The lyrics couldn’t have been more woeful. They stopped recording at lunchtime. By then, Ted and Valerie were so stoned that Valerie couldn’t hold a tune, and all Ted could do was snigger.

His Refrain:

‘Don’t, ... Don’t you want me ... Don’t you want me ... Baby’.

With a sad face, Bob said, “Peter, we have become good friends, so I can’t leave you in the dark any longer.”

He said, “I went to the men’s toilet at one point, where I could hear Valerie and Ted fucking in the ladies. She was screaming out how good he was.”

He asked, “Am I bigger than him, bitch?”

She replied, “Much bigger and better in every way, lover.”

I was broken-hearted and didn’t want to believe what Bob told me, but I knew it was confirmed deep down.

So I left EMI for our apartment, tears streaming down my cheeks. Arriving, I looked around - there was nothing for me here now. It was all plastic and fake. I decided to clear out, packing just a few clothes to keep me going and leaving most, not wanting to alert Valerie of my possible intentions. If she was having a full-blown affair with Ted, there are no second chances in my book. So I checked into a cheap hotel across town.

Call me a sucker, but I still loved her. So I called Valerie that Monday evening to give her a chance to fix our deteriorating relationship.

She answered, ‘Hi Peter,” I could hear snickering in the background, “What can I do for you, PETER?” More sniggering in the background.

I asked, “Valerie, are you coming home tonight?”

She tersely replies, “LISTEN, PETER, I want a life of my own. I don’t answer to you, GOT THAT!” Then hangs-up.

‘You know I don’t believe you when you say that you don’t need me’.

Valerie didn’t appear to miss me even after not speaking or seeing each other for three weeks. She finally called to tell me that she was off to California for a week to the American Music Awards as the special guest and would be gone for two weeks.

‘I was working as a waitress in a cocktail bar ... That much is true’.

I considered using a private detective, but in the end, their fragrant public display of affection for one another made it plain what was going on, down to sharing a hotel suite.

‘But even then, I knew I’d find a much better place ... Either with or without you’.

I talked to a lawyer about my missing royalties, which stopped while Valerie’s songs were doing well. My lawyer discovered funds were being diverted to her account. I asked him to look into it. I needed money for hotel accommodation because I refused to move back into the apartment.

‘The five years we have had have been such, good at times ... I still love you’.

I watched the American Music Awards on TV to see Ted accompany Valerie. Photos in the press showed her entering an exclusive hotel on Sunset Boulevard on Ted’s arm.

‘You know I can’t believe what I am seeing ... don’t, ... don’t you want me’.

Valerie texted, “I needed downtime, and I’m taking a holiday at the beach.”

So, I texted back to make sure our marriage was irreparable. “Where? I’ll come over to spend time together,” But she never responded.

‘But now I think it’s time I lived my life on my own’. ‘Don’t, ... don’t you want me’.

A month later, TV news stories indicated they were tanning themselves and sharing a hotel room again in Jamaica. In addition, there were rumours of Valerie and Ted engaging in orgies at celebrities’ homes in Kingstown.

‘I guess it’s just what I must do. Don’t, ... don’t you want me’.

I moved all my stuff out of the apartment, finding a small flat in north London.

Television news reported Valerie and Ted arrived back in London at Heathrow. Various drugs were found in Valerie’s luggage and, not surprisingly, none in Ted’s baggage. When she objected, saying they weren’t hers, she caused a scene and was strip-searched.

It was big news in all the papers the next day. Top 40 singer Valerie Stein was up on drug charges with a heavy fine. Her manager posted her bail.

When she finally returned to her apartment to find I’d moved out, she called me. “Where are you? Why have you moved out?”

I merely said, “I want a divorce.” She laughed down the phone, saying it was only sex. I disagreed and hung up.

‘You’d better change it back, or we will both be sorry’.

The divorce was messy. Valerie fought ‘tooth and nail’ through her lawyer to reduce how much she had to pay me. However, she couldn’t afford to delay, putting her career on hold. People will start to forget if her name was off the top list for too long. She settled, and I got my owed royalties back and a fifty per cent marriage settlement.

Valerie and Ted started living together in the apartment. She told everyone that Ted’s next song would put her career back on top. However, when the single was released, the best it did was 20th on the Top 40. It had no solid beat and was in the wrong voice range for Valerie. It was a flop for her.

His Refrain:

‘It’s much too late to find ... When you think you’ve changed your mind’.

Valerie called me, begging for a song for old time’s sake.

To appease her, I said, “I’ll see what I can come up with.” But I did nothing - SHE destroyed our alliance!

‘But don’t forget it’s me who put you where you are now ... And I can put you back down too’.

I continued with my new single life, waiting for the divorce to be finalised. I was still making studio session music and writing new songs for other artists. As long as I kept busy, I was okay. The only thing I looked forward to these days was when I was performing with Helen.