Chapter one.

Old Man Bronson picked up his violin in his right hand before steadying the body of the instrument under his chin. His bow, already in his left hand instantly settled on the fine set of strings. Slowly, and carefully he drew his bow back creating the first note of the C minor scale for the count of two. His fingers were already in position to make the notes vibrato, telling the folk in the bar the music was about to start. He sent the bow away again. Slowly and somewhat gently at first, as he always did, but only for a few bars. He cast his eyes up and looked along the stem of his instrument to observe the folk in the bar. Knowing he had their full attention, he swiftly changed tack, bringing the bow rapidly dancing backwards and forwards sending an old Cornish tune around the confines of the lounge with a crescendo of noise.
         At the count of four his partner, Jim Devlin sprang to life by pressing the bellows of his squeezebox in exactly the same way he had done for the last fifty years since he moved into the small seaside village of Boswell. A whoop of delight came from someone in the bar. It didn’t matter who, as some tapped the feet while others gently drummed with their hands on the small round tables in front of them. Each and everyone of them, more than happy to be here on this cold, windy Saturday night. 
         No one seemed to care if the music was old. As a matter of fact, most of the village folk drinking ale had heard these tunes hundreds of times before, and no doubt will again. But that’s what they loved, week in, week out. To them, this was all part of the beauty of village life, the folk from around here loved it the way it was, and thought of no good reason to change.
         Likewise, the village itself. Apart from the odd lick of paint, a few road signs and double yellow lines the council decided to vandalise the road with, the village probably looked the same this evening as it had done a hundred years ago; beautiful!
         ‘A rugged beauty in a way,’ some may have described it over the years. This was probably because of the way the buildings had been built over the many years, steeping the village with history. Many of the buildings were constructed from a natural grey stone, pulled from many of the local quarries that at one time, in long past had been dotted around this coastline. And, if anyone looked down from one of the two small cliff edges above it, they might have been left with a memory of admiration of how the small stone cottages sat nestled into to the quayside, along with two quaint fishing boats swaying from side to side on the water.  
         However, on this night no one would have thought to call the village quaint, not with the weather they were experiencing. It was a terrible night. Even for the month of April, when rain was expected, it was harsh. The wind whipped and whistled through the rocky crags, and the torrential rain that came with it had already caused the turbulence of the wild waterfall, which sat to the side of the village growl and thunder, as the extra water pounded the rocks below. Nevertheless, this evening no one cared about the weather, or the cold for that matter. Half the village folk were enjoying the heat, as well as the rustic smell of smoke from the log fire, creating a wonderful atmosphere, which came natural to this somewhat historic public house. 
         It was loud and boisterous as always in The Alehouse. The village folk chatted away the evening. Some were still tapping their feet to the sound of the music being played by the two old men, still banging out tunes older than they were. Archie Dobson, as always on a Saturday evening, sat around the bar telling tales of the past week’s happenings, but nobody cared, or listened to his gossip. They were all too busy enjoying themselves, and without a doubt most would be dancing to a merry tune or two as the night grew older and a few more beers were downed.
         Paul Jones, who lived in the village, and the local bobby, was at the bar as usual. He was a strange man, who nobody seemed to like. He came from London many years ago after a whirlwind romance with a local girl called Julie. It was said, this romance started in Benidorm when the two of them met on holiday. Anyway, Julie found herself pregnant a few months after her return. The next thing she knew, she was walking down the aisle with him waiting at the alter. At the time no one said it would work out because they were so miss-matched. She was the quiet type, and he was, well; a big headed so and so, always shouting his mouth off about how good a policeman he was. That hadn’t changed from that day to this, and to prove it, tonight was no exception. This time, he was telling the whole bar about how he is about to catch whoever has been poaching dear from the land outside the village. Of course he had been saying this for some time, and if he were honest with himself, he would admit he was nowhere near to catching the poachers this night, as when he was on the first night he started his quest. 
       ‘So how exactly are you going to catch them?’ Brian Bronson, the son of Old Man Bronson asked the policeman.
         ‘I’ve noticed they never seem to poach in the same place,’ the policeman answered the young lad. ‘So, I’ve been working out where they’ve been, and where they’re likely to strike next. I would take it at a calculated guess the woods at the back of Jim’s farm seems to be the most likely place tonight, so I’ll keep an eye out there,’ 
         ‘That’s good thinking,’ Bill said with a bit of a smile on his face, more than happy the policeman had a big mouth. He was happier still, and more confident that he, as well as most of the villagers would have a nice piece of venison on their dinner plates later that week. 
         As the two men were talking the noise in the bar stepped up a notch or two, when in the far corner a young lad of about twenty stumbled into a table knocking over some drinks.
         ‘Oy, you stupid drunken idiot, can’t you watch where you’re going, for Christ’s sake,’ a voice bellowed clearly angry at the young lad who had been in the bar for the best part of the day, knocking back as many lagers as he could.
         ‘Sorry Harold. I’m a bit pissed tonight,’ Legless Don as he was known slurred his words out.
         ‘You deserve the back of my hand, and you’re going to get it if you don’t put your hand in your pocket and buy me another, and I’ll have a whisky chaser for my troubles, you prick,’ the angry voice of a man called Harold Abbot carried on, causing the jovial atmosphere to suddenly stop. 
         Old Man Bronson sensed the atmosphere change, stopped playing as did his partner, Jim. The tapping feet and hands drumming in time to the music slowly ceased as those in the bar sensing that, not for the first time, Harold Abbot was going to ruin what was no doubt going to be a good evening in the bar.
         ‘I’ll have to get you one some other time,’ Legless Don said to the big man in front of him as he put his hand in his pocket to retrieve his wallet. He opened it to show him it was devoid of any cash. ‘I’ve no money left Harold. I’ve spent it all on drink, sorry.’
         ‘Then why don’t you piss off home,’ Harold chided the lad who tried once again to apologise.
         ‘I said I was sorry. When I get paid on Thursday I’ll buy you another pint.’
         ‘Aye, I can see that happening,’ Harold replied before carrying on. ‘You’re nothing but a drunken disgrace,’ Just like your father was, and your going to end up like him. Too pissed to even walk home he was; fell off the quay and too drunk to climb out.’

         ‘Oy, just leave him alone Harold. Do you not think the lad already knows that?’ the voice of Old Man Bronson stepped in to protect the youngster from another verbal onslaught, and one he could do well without as everyone knew Don was not at all coping with the recent death of his father. 
         Harold wasn’t bothered. He had never liked Don’s father, and it looked like he had the same feelings for his son too. He never replied to Old Bronson’s comments. Instead, he turned back to the very upset young lad and gave him one hell of a look of distaste.
         ‘Well, as I said, why don’t you piss off home?’
         ‘Well, why don’t you piss off back; you fat git?’ the young lad replied trying to show some defiance to the man who had just insulted his dead father. 
         ‘What did you call me? Harold snarled
         A fat git, but not just that, you’re a deaf, fat git if you didn’t hear me the first time.
         ‘Right, that’s it,’ Harold growled even louder as he stood up and grabbed the young lad by the throat.
         ‘Okay, that’s enough you two,’ a loud bellowing voice shouted from behind the bar belonging to Jimmy Keller, the pub landlord. ‘I’ll not be having any trouble in my bar, that’s the rule and you should know it by now. Let him go Harold, or you’ll be barred for a week.’
         ‘What! You’re going to bar me for a week? That prick has knocked my pint over the floor; you should bar him and not me.’ 
         ‘You’re right Harold, I can see that, but what’s done is done and I’ll talk to him when he’s sober. But I’ll not tell you again, I won’t be having any fighting in my bar, you hear me?’
         Harold did let him go, but as he did he pushed the lad to the feet of Paul Jones the policeman.
       ‘Right you, out,’ the policeman commanded the young lad as he pulled him up by his jacket collar and frog marched him towards the door. Much to the annoyance of Jimmy, as it’s his pub and it’s he who makes the decisions on who gets thrown out, and who gets to stay. As it happened, he was about to give the young lad his marching orders anyway, as he always did about that time on a Saturday night.
         Right, that’s that then,’ Harold said annoyed he will have to buy himself another beer. 
         ‘Here, have this one on the house,’ Jimmy said as he went to pull another pint. ‘But, be warned Harold, I mean what I say. If I have any trouble from you, or anyone else for that matter, you will be out that door, no matter how big you are.’ 
         Harold took the pint without a thank you, but did let out some sort of inaudible grumble as he moved away from the bar and back to his seat. As he did, Old Man Bronson started on his violin again, and if by magic the foot tapping started and the conversations once again became loud, though most of them were on the subject of how once again, Harold Abbot always seemed to ruin a good time for everyone. 



When her daughter announces her intentions to marry her childhood sweetheart, Jess Gordon is far from happy with this wonderful news, and boy does she let the village know about it. This is a disaster in her eyes, and there is no way she's going to let her daughter make the biggest mistake in her life.

Drastic actions are needed, that is without a doubt. But what will happen when the ball starts to roll, and the fall out from these terrible actions takes its hold? What is Jess thinking? Is she only thinking of her daughter's happiness, or is she only thinking of herself, and the secret she desperately needs to keep?

Chapter two.

About five minutes later the atmosphere in the pub sounded like nothing had happened. Old Man Bronson and Jim were once again playing merrily along. Archie Dobson, as predicted, started to dance his version of the Highland fling, but really he was only prancing around with his hands in the air. That was until Jimmy rang the brass bell behind the bar and cried out in a very broad West Country accent.
         ‘Ladies and Gentlemen,’ he shouted in a jovial tone. ‘I’ve got an announcement to make. Well, actually it’s not me, but my good friend sitting by the fire, has got something to tell you all. Over to you Kirk.’
         All eyes turned towards the log fire as a young man of twenty-nine years with a big mop of blond curly hair, who everyone in the bar knew, stood up notably nervous.
         ‘Err, I don’t know how to say this,’ he said as he looked around the room scanning those in the bar until his eyes met those of his father sitting next to one of his friends.
         ‘What is it Kirk?’ he said with a concerned look as if he already had an idea what he was going to say. 
        ‘Well, I’ve got a bit of news to tell you all,’ Kirk carried on. As he did he motioned a very tall and attractive lady sitting next to him to stand with him. Of course, everyone in the pub knew her also. She was Paula, the daughter of one of the locals, Robbie Gordon, a very well to do local of the village. 
         She smiled when she stood up and Kirk put his arm around her slender waist pulling her close, telling everyone she was his new girlfriend. But the announcement he was about to make, was going to tell them a bit more than that.
         ‘Okay, I’ll keep this short. Most of you know Paula has just come back from working abroad for the best part of the last two years. Anyway, during this time she was away, I’ve really missed her, so to stop this happening again…’ he said with a laugh. ‘I’ve asked Paula to marry me, and she has agreed.’
         As soon as those words left his mouth the whole bar in a sort of mistimed unison all said, ‘That’s nice,’ or other similar statements, followed by many words of congratulations. However, as Kirk smiled he had noticed there were also a few negative murmurings from some folk, as well one man calling him an idiot under his breath. Others commented that they would give it no more than a year. Of course he, as well as Paula were upset by the unhelpful comments made about them, but they knew they would ignore them and prove them all wrong. With this in mind they both carried on smiling as Kirk looked towards his father; who wasn’t. Kirk was puzzled by this as he could not see any reason why his father looked saddened by this news. His first thoughts were that it might have been that he hadn’t told him before announcing it to the whole pub. He immediately felt guilty about this. The thing was, he only asked Paula to marry him only a few moments before, so he never really had the chance. However, he knew he would talk to him and sort it out with him later. 
         Once again, Jimmy pulled on the bell behind the bar, and again and with the same bellowing sound as before, shouted,
         ‘Ladies and Gentlemen. Would you all raise your glasses with me and wish the future bride and groom all the best of luck for what lies ahead, on what can only be described as great news,’ he laughed as he carried on. ‘Even if it has come as a great shock to all of us.’     
           The big man raised his glass, as did the others in the bar, and all said in unison, ‘To Paula and Kirk.’ 

          The words of Jimmy rang true as it was most certainly a shock to all in the bar, including the young couple to some extent. If you were to have asked Paula, as well as Kirk, both would have said something like they were somewhat surprised themselves. Especially Kirk, as he didn’t even know himself that he was going to pop the question when he even walked into the pub to meet Paula. But something must have pulled at his heart, as the words somehow came out without him even thinking.
          Nevertheless, the pair still found it amusing as they listened to the various comments going around the bar, and the comment of a whirlwind romance was heard more than once. Certainly in this case, it would have been a very correct description, as it was only a week since they started dating. Yet, cupid had shot his arrow, and as a result the young couple were head over heels in love.

          Even though, it might well have been a whirlwind romance, there would have been no way anyone could have called it love at first sight.
       If anyone had thought about it, Paula and Kirk had known each other for probably as long as they could remember. In a way, you could just about say they grew up together, even if Paula had spent a great deal of time away from the village in boarding school.
         However, come Christmas time and the holidays in the summer, Paula always returned to the village to spend time with her parents up at what was known in the village as the, ‘Posh house.’
        A grand place it was, this posh house. Owned by her family for generations, so it seemed. Like the village, it was a picturesque type of place to live. Not quite a castle, but it did have a few ramparts along the roof as well as a small square tower. If you stood at the top of this tower and looked out, you could see for miles out to sea. On the other side of the tower, looking inland, you would have an excellent view of a beautiful river. But the best part was the view of the waterfall. Paula loved this view, especially in the autumn when the trees were turning into different shades of brown. ‘Paradise,’ she often called it, and she certainly had happy memories of where she grew up. 
        Without a doubt, amongst her favourites memories would have been when she was a child, when she played with the other children of the village. Kirk and Jimmy were her two favourites, as well as another boy called Norton, who unfortunately moved away after he joined the police force. Together, they were, the three musketeers. And their job was to protect Paula forever.

          Looking back, the four of them formed a certain bond of friendship between them, and she loved it as it gave her a sense of belonging in the village. Sadly, as time drew on, this feeling of belonging started to diminish.
          Even though this saddened Paula a great deal, she knew exactly why she felt this way, and it was because of her parent’s attitude to the other village folk. They were rich, and the others weren’t, and they somehow had a great knack of telling them this was the case. Of course this made them, unpopular to say the least. Unfortunately, sometimes this unpopularity rubbed off on Paula too. 
          However, as far as she was concerned it didn’t matter. She still had her three best friends with her most of the time as she grew from a child to the young lady she is today. But, out of the three of them, it was Kirk she had the extra special bond with, and soon she was going to strengthen this bond with a ring.

         ‘Come on guys, make way for the good looking fella,’ Jimmy said jokingly as he made his way through the bar with a bottle of whisky in one hand and two small glasses in the other. He put them on the table in front of the happy couple.
         ‘Here you are you two. Get those down your neck,’ he said as he poured out two very generous measures. ‘Not every night we have something like this to celebrate.’
          ‘Thank you Jimmy,’ Paula said taking a glass and all three made a toast to friendship.
          ‘By the way what have your parents got to say about it all?’ Jimmy asked Paula.
          ‘They don’t know yet. I’m just going to nip outside and call them on my mobile before anyone else does.’
        ‘Well, as you know you can only get a signal from the car park, and if you’re in luck it might have stopped raining.’
         ‘Let’s hope so,’ she replied smiling and quickly give Kirk a quick peck on his cheek before making her way towards the door to the car park. Doing so she had no option but to pass Harold Abbot. 
         She didn’t want to say anything to him, but unfortunately he stood right in front of her before she got to the door. He didn’t say anything, but instead, started to sing an old song by Fred Astaire in a mocking kind of way. The one about, facing the music while there is trouble ahead.
         At first Paula wanted to ignore the man, but somehow she took the bait and asked him, ‘What the hell do you mean by that?’
         ‘Me; I’m only singing a song that’s all,’ he carried on mocking her as she simply replied. ‘Idiot,’ and walked out of the door to the car park.
         Harold ignored the insult, picked up his pint and walked over to where Kirk was sitting, being congratulated by his father, Gerd.
         ‘That was a surprise Son,’ Gerd said with a faint German accent, which was really Austrian, but no one around here could tell the difference.
         ‘You don’t look very happy about it Dad,’ Kirk replied concerned. 
         ‘I’m happy that you’ve picked Paula to be your bride. She’s a lovely, attractive girl without a doubt, and I think she’ll be great for you. But, I’ll be honest with you Kirk, I’m just a bit concerned you’ve bitten off a bit more than you can chew that’s all.’
         ‘What do you mean?’ Kirk asked, but it was Harold who gave the answer.
         ‘Because you are being stupid by getting married into that family you dickhead, that’s what he means.’
        ‘Do you mind Harold? I’m trying to talk to my son.’ Gerd replied somewhat annoyed with him interrupting their conversation, even though he was correct in what he had said about Paula’s family.
         ‘Don’t you worry Harold,’ Kirk said, also annoyed with the intrusion. ‘I’m a big boy now, so I know what I’m doing,’
         ‘Well, don’t blame me if your marriage goes tits up after a year.’
         ‘It won’t come to that, I’m sure,’ Kirk answered simply wanting him to go away. ‘So, if you don’t mind I would like to talk to my father, if that’s okay.’
         ‘I’m only trying to do you a favour,’ Harold replied. ‘You’re from different worlds, you and Paula. You should stick to your own, and not get involved with some rich family. Trust me Kirk, her father is nothing but a bastard who couldn’t give a fuck about anyone around here, apart from himself.’
         ‘I’m sure he’s not like that Harold,’ Kirk said in a way to show his patience was starting to wear thin.
         ‘I heard he’s thinking about putting himself up to be our next member of parliament in London,’ Harold carried indifferent to Kirk’s displeasure. ‘No doubt that will only be for his own good and nobody else’s, any fool can see that.’
         ‘To be honest with you Harold, I don’t know anything about it.’
        ‘Well bugger me. You don’t know anything about it! Of course you do. Christ, you’ve only been engaged five minutes and your acting just like them at the Posh House, always telling lies and acting like they own the village.’
          ‘That’s unfair Harold, and you know it is,’ this time Gerd replied protecting his son. Harold was unmoved. 
          ‘Obviously I don’t need to tell you; he won’t be getting my vote.’
         ‘Yes and he won’t be getting mine either,’ this time Gerd replied, with a very strong tone now his patience was gone.
         ‘That’s because Krauts can’t vote over here can they?’ Harold laughed.
         ‘That’s enough Harold,’ Gerd shouted and as all heads turned towards where he was sitting.
         ‘Well, I only wanted to congratulate you on your son’s engagement, that’s all. So I’ll be on my way,’ Harold grinned before walking off.
         The two men waited until he was out of earshot before they carried on talking.
         ‘God, he knows how to spoil a good time doesn’t he?’ Gerd said to his son through gritted teeth. ‘But, one thing I will say for him, he’s right in some respect. Just be very careful of her parents, that all I’m saying. Her father’s as dodgy as they come, and for some reason his wife Jess, can be just as bad.’
         ‘Don’t worry dad, I’ll be fine,’ Kirk replied, not quite believing it himself. 

       Outside, in the car park, Paula was thankful the rain had stopped, and took a deep breath before pressing the buttons on her mobile phone, which connected her to her house. She knew her father was away on a businesses trip somewhere, so she was fairly certain it would be her mother who would be picking up the phone. The phone rang three times before Paula pressed the red disconnect button. She held the phone to her chest and let out a sigh. She knew she had to make the call, after all it was the right thing to do. But she knew this was going to be so difficult. It shouldn’t be, Paula thought. This should be a happy phone call, one I should be eager to make and give out the good news.But Paula was far from convinced this was going to be good news for her mother. As a matter of fact, she knew deep down this would be terrible news for her. The reason being, Paula knew as much as everyone else in the village, her parents had very high hopes for her that she would be marrying into a family of substance, and not a local builder. 
         Very old fashioned, most would say nowadays, but unfortunately that’s how her parents were, when Paula thought about it. Not so much her father, he might be very disappointed at her choice, probably stating something like he thought she could do much better than someone who works on a building site. Nevertheless, knowing her father, he’ll come around to the idea if she could convince him they will be happy together. Only time would tell on that one. However, she knew fine well it would take a massive amount of convincing her mother.
         ‘Oh God! Well, I have no choice. I have to do it sooner or later,’ she muttered to herself as she pressed the redial button. This time she waited, even though it seemed her mother was taking ages to answer the phone but in reality it was only a few rings before the ringing tone stopped and was replaced with a quick, ‘Hello.’
         ‘Hi Mother, it’s me. Guess what; I’m getting married,’ she said quickly, and trying to sound enthusiastic.
         ‘What!’ came a quick sharp reply.
         ‘That’s right. You would never believe it, but Kirk Müller has asked me to marry him, and I’ve said yes.’
         There was a silence from the other end.
         ‘Mother, are you still there?’
         ‘Yes, of course I’m still here. What did you say?’ her mother asked, somewhat bewildered at what she had just heard.
         ‘Kirk; he’s asked me to be his wife. We’re going to get married.’
         Again there was a silence.
         ‘Mother, you’ve gone quiet again,’ Paula said as she winced trying to imagine what her mother was thinking.
         ‘I don’t know what to say,’ her mother replied in a shaky voice.
         ‘Well, say something like you’re happy for us, everyone else is.’
         ‘What do you mean, everyone else is?’
         ‘Yes, I know we should have told you first, but Kirk wanted to announce it as soon as I agreed to marry him.’
         ‘But, you can’t marry him.’
         ‘Please Mother, don’t make it difficult for me. I know you had plans, but Kirk is right for me, I just know it.’
         ‘You don’t even know him.’
         ‘Of course I do. You know fine well I’ve known him since we were children.’
         ‘Yes I know that, but you still don’t know him really. As a matter of fact young lady, I didn’t even know he was your boyfriend.’
         ‘Yes, I know it’s all happened very quickly, but we’ll be fine.’
         ‘No Paula, you will not be fine,’ she replied, this time with a bit of anger in her voice. ‘I won’t allow it, and I don’t believe for one second your father will too. He won’t have it and neither will I.’ 
         ‘Mother, I’m twenty-nine years old, and I think I can make my own decisions.’
         ‘It’s not that it’s just…’
         ‘Just what Mother?’
         ‘Nothing, it’s just you can’t get married to that man, and that’s the end of it. Where are you anyway?’
         ‘We’re down in the pub.’
         ‘Just as I thought. Stay there, I’m coming down to sort this once and for all.’ With that, she slammed the phone down, clearly finishing the conversation.

         It started to rain again as Paula sighed. She knew her mother was going to take the news badly, and she didn’t know what to do. Then, as she thought about it, a certain apprehension came over her. Oh my God. What have I done?
         She turned back to look into the bar through the windows. It was starting to get dark around the village and the lights were already on inside the pub making it easy to see what was happening inside. She looked towards the flames of the fire and saw Kirk standing shaking hands with one of his friends who looked like he was congratulating him on his future. She saw Kirk take a big shot of whisky and then he smiled. He looked the picture of happiness and contentment standing, next to the fire, and somehow he looked as if he fitted right in with village life. This was his home, he loved this village. He loved the people around him and they obviously loved him back. But what about her? Yes, she loved the village too, and even most of the people who lived here. Whether they loved her back, well, that might be something else. But one thing was for sure, she was certain she did not want to stay here for the rest of her life. And what’s more, she still had something very important to tell Kirk. This something was what she had been working on for a long time and was determined to see through to the end. The problem was, to do this meant she would have to live many miles away from the village of Boswell. This something was not just a great difference in miles, but a great difference in cultures too. Because, what she was determined to see to the end, meant living in the great metropolis itself, the great metropolis of New York City. USA. And right at this moment in time, Paula realised she had a problem; a big problem.




The Seeds of Lies © Peter Best 2019. Peter Best has asserted his moral right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, copied, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying recording or otherwise without the prior written consent of the copyright holder, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. Also this publication is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise be lent, re-sold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publishers prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. This publication is a work of fiction. All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

What The seeds of Lies is about.

The Seeds of lies, set in a little fishing village in Cornwall, tells the story of what happened to Jess, a very well to do lady, after her daughter, Paula announces she is going to marry local builder, Kirk.

Jess is very much against this marriage for reasons only known to herself. However, a very unpopular man of the village has worked out why Jess does not want her daughter to wed. When he confronts her about his findings, the blackmail starts.

The story moves on telling the tale how Jess tries to bring a halt to the blackmail as well as trying to stop the wedding of the young couple who are determined to tie the knot.