58 comments/ 164517 views/ 31 favorites A Little Bitty Tear, Let Me Down. By: The Wanderer This is an original work of fiction, written by The Wanderer. It is posted on this site with his permission. Once again I have to thank another author for solving a problem for me. I've had this scenario going around in my head for some months now and it was reading JPB's "Sally Goes To The Theatre" that switched the light on, so to speak. If you read that story by JPB you might pick out where I've done some stealing. I hope it will not damage your enjoyment of this story, or my friendship with JPB. I thank my LadyCibelle and Techsan for their patience, proof reading, editing skills and of course encouragement. I'd also like to add that we don't always see eye to eye, we do have some disagreements sometimes - well quite often really, I can be an obstinate old bugger. Anyway I take full responsibility for the content and any cock-ups in this story. * The buzzing noise of the intercom bedside my bed roused me from my siesta. I reached over and hit the button. "There's a lady here who wishes to see you, sir." My secretary's dismembered voice came from the machine. "I'm a little busy at the moment, Colette. Ask Val if she can see her for me, will you please?" Valerie is my PA and usually handles most of my visitors nowadays. To be honest, I wasn't busy at all; I'd turned into a bit of a recluse and I was having my afternoon nap. Colette was aware of that, so it was unusual for her to have disturbed me. "The lady says it's personal and very important, sir. What she has to discuss, she says she can only discuss with you, sir." "Damn it! Tell her she'll have to make an appointment for.... Oh, I don't know, next week sometime." "The lady says it's urgent, and she is adamant, sir." "Oh, bugger, all right. I suppose I'd better see her then, show her up to my office in about five minutes." I got off my bed, gave my face a quick rinse in the bathroom, to wake myself up, then made my way through the penthouse to my private office. I looked out of the window at the view over the city below. Damn, I hate this bloody place; I hate every-bleeding-thing about it. Christ, I think I hate everyone on the seventeen floors below me as well, even though they all work for me. Colette entered the office without knocking. She never did knock nowadays because I was rarely in there. I'm just the figurehead of this organisation now; the only reason I was here in my penthouse suite was because I had nowhere else I wanted to go; and nothing that I really wanted to do. The very nice looking young lady, who Colette was supposed to be showing in, strode past her into the office in an officious looking manner. But I think the sudden grandeur that she found herself in took her by surprise and knocked the wind out of her sails. I could see she was unused to, and uncomfortable with, the environment she suddenly found herself in. "Mr John Crawford?" she asked before Colette had time to make her official introductions. "That's me." "My name's June Parsons and I'm with Slough Social Services." I'm not sure, but I think I was supposed to be cowered by her statement. "And what can I do for you, Miss or is it Mrs June Parsons from Slough Social Services?" "Please call me June. We try not to be too formal." I could see confusion in her face now. I think I was not what she had been expecting, nor were the surroundings she found herself in. This woman was used to dealing with folks on the other end of the financial spectrum and she appeared to be totally out of her depth here with me. "Very well, June, you may call me John. Now what can I do for you? Oh, excuse me. Okay, Colette, you can leave Ms Parsons with me, thank you." Colette, with a curious look on her face and a wink of her eye, turned and left the office, closing the door behind her. Well, my visitor was quite beautiful and the gold diggers had used some very interesting ways to get too me in the past. "Mr Crawford...." "John." "I'm sorry, John. I'm with Social Services in Slough." "You have said that more than once already; now please tell me how can I help you?" "There is, um, where do I start?" she said looking around the room. The splendour of the place was obviously not what she had expected at all. "Look, I've got a case on my hands. There are two children involved and a mother who attempted suicide. Maybe it would be better if you read this note, it was found beside the mother." She handed me an envelope containing the note, only in was more of a letter than a note. I sat back into my big swivel chair and opened it. My dearest John. The first line said, and damn, I immediately knew whom it was from. My memory jumped back eleven years to when my once happy life came to a sudden end. +++++++++++++++++ Shit, as I remember it I was having one hell of a bloody morning. A water main had burst in Chiswick High Road and the whole damned area had gridlocked as folks tried to find their way around the closed road. I was almost an hour and a half late when I tried to sneak into my office unnoticed. It was the second time that week that my journey to work had been a bloody nightmare. As I entered my office, June, my secretary - well she wasn't really mine, she looked after three or four of us - waylaid me. "John, where the hell have you been, and why haven't you got your mobile switched on?" "Oh, shit, I must have forgotten to charge the bloody thing last night," I thought that was becoming a habit of mine lately; too damned tired to think straight when I got home in the evenings. "Tony Jordon's been looking for you since nine o'clock. He's got a real bee in his bonnet over something. You'd better get your arse up there pretty smartly." Shit, buggering arseholes. That's all I needed; that pompous little arse on his fucking high horse. Since his father retired, that little shit and his brother thought they were God's gift to the bloody industry. The truth is he had no idea how to negotiate a contract or keep the customers happy. I was wondering whom the little bugger had upset now. "Oh, John, thank goodness you've turned up. I've been trying to track you down all morning. You've really got to do something about your time keeping, you know," Tony Jordon said as I entered his office. "Well, if you hadn't moved the bleeding office from Slough into fucking Chiswick I wouldn't have to sit in bleeding traffic jams every bloody morning and evening, you fucking little trumped up arsehole," my mind was thinking. I wondered why the hell didn't I have the nerve to say that to the little shit. But we all think these things, don't we? "Sorry, Tony, there was a burst water main in the High Road." "Well, I got here on time!" Of course you did, you little shit. You've got an expensive town flat, paid for by the company and just a couple of blocks away that you stay in during the bleeding week. With that little tart that your Mrs doesn't know about to keep you warm at night. "Anyway something's gone wrong with the Johnson job. They're late on delivery again. I need you to fly out there and talk some sense into Johnson's board. You know, pour some oil on the water. They're threatening to take their contract elsewhere again. You know if that happens, heads will roll. Not only here but at the plant as well. You've sweet talked Johnson around before; I'm sure you can do it again." "And just why aren't you going yourself," I thought. "While you're at it, take the other pile of shit, your brother Robert with you. Between the pair of you, you're killing this bloody company. If your old man knew how you two were fucking things up here, he'd be turning in his bloody grave." Once again we think these things, don't we; I really wished I could think of a good reason why I wasn't saying them. But then if I did, I'd be out on my ear, wouldn't I? "I'll give Simon Johnson a call. I'm sure he'll come round. We've been doing business with him for years." "No! You're flying out there on the twelve o'clock flight. Old man Johnson has retired and his nephew Paul Johnson has taken over as chairman of the company. Neither Robert nor I can go. We've both got a very full calendar this week." "A twelve o'clock flight? Shit, there's no way I can make it. I've got to get home and pack first. And besides, I'm supposed to be taking Sally to the theatre this evening; she's been on at me to take her for months. " "Well, you'll have to take her some other time. Don't worry; the company will reimburse you for the tickets." "The play finishes its run on Saturday night, Sally's been driving me nuts to take her for weeks. But I've been so tied up getting the Carter contract sorted out; I haven't been getting home until far too late in the evenings to go. I figured that now that Carter contract's signed and out the way, my evenings would be free for a few weeks at least. I know that the last night is sold out. Tonight was the only day we could get seats for. If I go to New York, I won't get back before Friday at the earliest. Sally's going to go ballistic." "Then she'll have to go with a friend or something then, won't she? Sally knows as well as anyone, that the company needs the Johnson work, it's nearly half our turnover. You'd better call her at the factory and get her to go home and pack your bag for you. You'll never get home and then back to the airport in time from here. Run along now; we can't afford to have you miss that flight." "Cheeky little shit." I thought as I left his office. I'd started working for Henry Jordon straight from college. It'd been a pretty small concern when I joined the staff. Jordon & Sons Machine Tools. Henry Jordon had got in on the ground floor some years back. Maggie Thatcher declared that industry had to stand on its own feet. And the banks started calling in company overdrafts. Starved of working capital, British engineering firms went to the wall in droves. Henry Jordon was one of the vultures who bought up all the redundant plant and machinery. He reconditioned it in his own little factory, sold it on at ridiculous profits to companies all over the developing world. Henry Jordon was a typical died-in-the-wool Conservative. Mind, I think there was a lot of the profits that somehow disappeared into offshore accounts. It wouldn't do for a good Tory to pay too many taxes, now would it? Once the bankruptcies started to become a little thin on the ground, Henry Jordon changed the modus operandi of the company. He became agent for companies who wanted to sell machine tools into Europe. Simple, really. The machinery was imported into the country in pieces then assembled and delivered to anywhere in the EEC. Things went well for the company until the two brothers were old enough to join the firm. Unfortunately Henry's two sons, who had both been to university, were trying to run things on the Just In Time principle. Great on a production line, but it left no time for sorting out the problems that often showed up in our business. Parts coming in from all over the world could be delayed for a thousand and one reasons. Luckily most of our clients were quite aware of those problems. But if the brothers would just leave a few days grace when they quoted delivery dates we wouldn't have half the problem with them that we were having. It always seemed obvious to me. Tell the customer they can have it in three weeks, then later tell them you can deliver five days earlier; they are happy. Tell them they can have it in two weeks and deliver a week late. Shit flies! And never promise what you can't deliver. I couldn't really understand why Tony was insisting I fly out to New York. The brothers had negotiated the latest contract with Johnson's; they should be the ones to put things right. Yeah, but I knew how it was going to look to the board if it all went pear shaped. I was the mug who was going to take the can on this one. When I got back to my office, I called Sally's office at the Slough Factory. Yeah, Sally worked for Jordon & Son's as well. That's what Tony had been alluding to. It wouldn't only be my head that was going to roll; I could see Sally's going as well. Sally and I met when she joined the typing pool years ago. Typing pool, there that will give you some idea of how long ago I'm talking about. We seemed to hit it off quite well from the beginning. But it wasn't until we went to the company Christmas party that year that we got together. You know what its like; everybody was kissing under the mistletoe and when I kissed Sally.... Well, I'm not sure what happened, but in the end someone asked us if we would move, as they wanted their turn. Sally and I didn't discus it or anything. From that kiss we were an item. I think we both ran around like lunatics buying each other Christmas presents and I joined her and her family for Christmas dinner. I think that caused some confusion, as I'm pretty sure they were expecting some other guy. But no one actually said anything. We went out together on New Year's Eve and woke up together in my bed on New Year's Day. That was our first time together. I'm sorry to have to admit I don't remember much about it. I do remember the night of January the first though. Sally never actually went home to live again and we were married four months later. The next ten years had been the happiest of my life, when I was at home. My life at work was fine until Henry's twin boys finished university and came to work at the firm. Until they joined the company, I had been Henry's number two, his assistant in all things both above and below board. The boy's arrival spelt a change. Henry was not a bad old stick; he didn't put his boys over me in the company hierarchy at first, but they both seemed to resent that. Oh, they were pleasant enough to me, but I knew they didn't like the sway I held with their farther. Henry Jordon floated the company on the stock market and made a bloody killing out of it. That was the only time he actually upset me. I thought he would have sent at least a few shares in my direction, but he didn't. The other thing that didn't happen was I was not made a director. Both the brothers went on the board, but I didn't. Then Henry had his bloody heart attack. At the hospital he asked me to keep an eye on the boys. "Some hopes, Henry," I thought. "If you'd given me some shares and put me on the board as well, I might have had some influence over them." Of course I never said that to him. It was plain to my eyes that he was on his way out. Henry retired immediately and passed away three months later. The moment the lid of his coffin was closed; the boys started making changes. None of which, I thought were good ideas, but there was little I could do about it. They rented flash new offices in Chiswick and most of the admin and sales staff moved down there. Tony ran that department, whilst Robert took over the running of the factory completely. In doing so he inherited Sally as his secretary. She'd been the factory manager's PA for some time, but the factory manager didn't stay for long, because Robert was on his case all the time. I can't say I was very happy about Sally working for Robert Jordon. It wasn't something I could put my finger on, but I never did like the way either of the brothers looked at her. Come on, I suppose it could have been jealousy, or maybe it was just that I didn't like either of the brothers really. But I sensed something. Sally was five years older than the two boys were, but she was one fine looking woman, even if I do say so myself. Sally appeared to get on very well with Robert. Too well, if you ask me. No, I didn't think anything untoward was going on. But as I really didn't like the boys, I would sometimes make comments about them. Sally would spring to their defence and there we had the recipe for trouble. The truth is, as the company got busier and I was rushing about all over the bloody place keeping customers happy and sorting out new contracts, I think Robert saw more of Sally that I did. So she saw his side of any problem well before they got dumped on me. Okay, back to the Johnson contract and my short notice flight to the US. I called Sally to give her the good(?) news. I think they probably heard her reaction at Chelsea football ground. I know it deafened me. "But you're taking me to the play tonight! You promised! What the hell did you volunteer to go the New York for?" Now this was another problem of mine. Whenever I was asked to go away somewhere, Sally somehow got it into her head, that it was something that I chose to do. I never could understand why she thought I would volunteer to go on these bloody trips. But from our discussions on the subject, it was obvious that she was convinced that I did. "I didn't volunteer, Sally. Tony has just ordered me to go. Surely you know what the problem is with the deliveries on the Johnson contract. Hasn't Robert told you?" "There's always problems nowadays. But why do you always have to keep volunteering to sort them out? Especially when we are supposed to be going to see the play tonight. I'm getting fed up with the way you treat me lately. What about my play?" See what I mean? I'd just told her that I was being sent to New York and she was still insisting that I'd volunteered to go. I'm afraid I got angry that she wasn't really listening to what I said. "To be honest, Sally, I don't give a bleeding damn about that goddamn play! Our - that's yours as well as mine - job's are on the line here and if I can't calm Johnson's bloody board down, the companies going to be up the bloody creek without a bleeding paddle, with no orders. Now don't blame me because your lot in the factory can't turn the stuff out on time!" See, now that's the problem with separating the two parts of the company. It had become a them-vs-us culture. Unfortunately, I was with the us and Sally was with the them. An even bigger recipe for disaster. "Now please go home, pack that fucking bag for me and then meet me at the check-in desk at Heathrow at eleven. Please." There was silence on the other end of the phone for several moments and then in a very controlled voice Sally said, "You'll get your fucking bag and maybe a few other things you didn't bargain for as well. I'm not your bloody skivvy you know!" The line went dead. Why did I do that? Why did I shout at Sally and why did she shout at me? Damn, I knew I needed to apologise to her when she met me at the airport. But that didn't happen. I was waiting at check in at eleven o'clock but there was no sign of Sally. Ten-past came and went with still no sign of her. The girl was just about to close the desk when Sally arrived. She strolled through the departure lounge as if I had all the time in the world. "Damn, Sally, what took you so long?" obviously with a sharp tone to my voice as I was very worried about missing the flight by then. But then I realised that it wasn't Sally's or my fault that we were having this argument. It wasn't either of our faults that she was disappointed about the play that evening and it wasn't good for us to part feeling angry with each other. "I'm sorry, Sally. I'm just so worked up about this damned trip." I went to kiss her, but she stepped back from me. "We don't have time for things like that. You have to rush off and save your precious contract." Then I heard the girl on the check-in desk say. "You must check your bag in now, Mr Parsons, or it won't get on your flight." I turned back to the girl and went through the formalities of checking the bag in. When I turned back to Sally again, she was gone. "How long before the flight's called?" I asked the girl. "Probably about half an hour or so. But I would suggest you don't leave the departure area." I ran in the direction that Sally had appeared from. But Sally must have been moving much faster when she left than she had been when she arrived. At the end on the concourse was the entrance to an enclosed bridge that led to the short-term car park. A Little Bitty Tear, Let Me Down. I was halfway across the bridge, when out of the corner of my eye I caught sight of the bright yellow Lamborghini exiting the car park on the ground level below. I could just make out Sally's coat through the passenger side of the windscreen. I knew the little shit that was in the driving seat, although I couldn't see him. Robert Jordon let no one drive his bloody status symbol other than himself. Boy, was I pissed. Robert Jordon was so busy that he couldn't go to New York but he had time to drive my wife about in that bloody pussy puller of his. Christ, I was bloody hopping mad as I made my way back into the terminal building. Unusually for me I went into the bar and ordered a drink. After sitting there fuming for twenty minutes or so, my flight was called and I moved into the departure lounge. For most of the flight, I studied the contracts as closely as I could looking for the loopholes Henry always put in there that gave us a little leeway on delivery dates and the like. But the boys had been at these latest contracts; most of those subtle little doors had been closed. I was met on my arrival at JFK, by of all people Paul Johnson himself, along with Petra his PA, whom he had obviously inherited from his uncle and a little entourage of yes-men. I'd met the kid a few times in the past - a bit of a misnomer really - but Paul always seemed a bit like the Jordon brothers, very young next to me. I really only had five or so years on them. In the past Simon Johnson had normally done most of the talking, whilst Paul had just been one of the other minions who enthusiastically nodded in agreement at everything Simon said, and of course laughed at his jokes. I was put on my guard by Paul's over enthusiastic welcome. Even more so by the collection of flunkies he had with him, who carried my bags and laptop out to the Limo that was waiting. "We've put you in the company suite at the WA," Paul said. "SJ was hoping to see you on this trip, but the timing is unfortunate; he's still on his world cruise. He told me to let you know he'd look you up when the ship docks in Southampton." I can remember thinking this was a very strange thing for Simon Johnson to want to do. Yeah, I'd always got on with the old boy. Henry Jordon and I had met him many times over the years we'd been dealing with his company. But I never took it that our friendship was anything other than purely business. Now that he'd retired why the hell would he wish to see me? The Waldorf Astoria was always where Henry Jordon had stayed over the years. But when I had visited New York on my own, I'd tended to stay in places a little less, um, extravagant. But Paul was telling me the suite was the company suite so I figured it just happened to be vacant. I couldn't see the Jordon brothers forking out on a suite there for me. Paul, having dropped me off at the WA, told me he'd send Petra to pick me up for dinner at around seven o'clock; then he and his little entourage took their leave. Jesus, this trip was getting more confusing by the bloody minute. In theory I should be taking or at least asking Paul Johnson to have dinner with me. It was by then about four in the afternoon local time. I wondered whether Sally had gone to the play on her own or not. After all she had the tickets. I called our home number; as I half expected there was no answer. Thinking that it would be about nine PM in London, I sent a text message to her mobile, asking if she was enjoying the play and who she had found to go with. When Petra arrived to collect me, she found me on the phone again. I'd received no reply to my text to Sally, and I thought she should have been home by then. But there was no answer from the home phone again. This time I left a message on the answer phone telling her I was going out to dinner and I'd call her the next day. As I went to leave the room, Petra wrestled my briefcase from my hand and returned it to the chair I'd picked it up from. "This is purely a social evening tonight, John. Paul would like you to meet his family. He said it was a pity you didn't bring your wife over with you." "Petra, what's this all about?" I asked her once we were in the car. I could see Petra was thinking how to reply to my question, and it was some moments before she answered. "Paul just thinks as you two do so much business with each other, the two of you should really get to know each other better. And he wants you to get to know everyone on the board of Johnson's as well." None of this was making any sense to me, until I came up with the idea that, just maybe, I was going to be headhunted from Jordon and Son's by Johnson and Partners. There was no other explanation I could think of for everyone's strange behaviour. The meal was outstanding, with a high percentage of Johnson's board present, complete with their spouses. Then we all moved on to a nightspot where some of the party danced. I didn't venture onto the dance floor, as I was feeling the jet lag; I'd been up five or so hours longer than the rest of them. However, as the evening went on, I was more and more convinced that my headhunting idea must be correct. All the board members went out of their way to talk to me and make me feel at home. Petra stuck to me like glue, if anything acting as if she was my PA. You know what I mean, whenever anybody approached me, she would whisper who he or she was, and fill me in on anything I needed to know about them. It was around two AM New York time when I got back to my room, seven AM-ish back home. There were no messages on my mobile and according to the reception; Sally hadn't left any messages there for me either. I debated calling her but thought it was a little early to do so, as she'd been out late the evening before. I was roused from the sleep of the dead, at 11 AM, by my breakfast noisily arriving, followed by the now ubiquitous Petra. Once again she appeared to be acting as my PA. "You have a meeting with the full board at 12 o'clock. That shouldn't take very long and then after that, Paul would like you to join him for a round of golf. Oh, you do play, don't you? Of course you do. I remember you and Henry playing with SJ. Anyway, you'll fly up to SJ's estate from the helipad on the building's roof right after the meeting. Oh, and Paul wanted to know how much of a hurry you're in to return to London." "Well, that really depends on what Paul and the board have to say about our late deliveries." "Oh, I think they'll be happy with whatever you say. After all, you're the.... Um, well, anyway they know and trust you. Now you'd better get a move on or you'll be late for the meeting." Petra had suddenly lost her usual self-confidence. For a moment, she sounded uncommonly flustered and just as suddenly she was in a hurry to leave the room. Or, to get out of my presence for a while, at least! I'll be honest; I hadn't been concentrating too closely on what Petra had been saying, as I was impatient to call Sally. I called her office at the factory, but the switchboard intercepted my telephone call. The girl explained that Sally wasn't in the office that day. Luckily, as it turned out, the receptionist was a temp and she didn't recognise my voice. The silly bitch didn't even ask who I was. When I asked if she knew why Sally wasn't in, she said she didn't know. I don't know why, maybe it was a sixth sense. But something made me ask her to put me through to Robert Jordon; she told me that he wasn't in the office that day either. Totally pissed off, I called my home number, but again it was not answered. Then I called Sally's mobile and found that it was switched off. Robert's mobile proved to be switched off as well. Totally out of my pram by then, I called Tony Jordon at the Chiswick office. When he came on the line, I demanded to know where the hell Robert was. I told Tony that there was something about the contract that I needed Robert to clarify for me. It struck me that Tony thought for a little longer than was really necessary before he replied. "Oh, I believe Robert's gone down to Brighton, he's meeting with the directors of Carter's Industries today. I think he said he was going to take Sally along with him to take notes. You know what Tony's memory's like." Bad choice, you lying little arsehole. That was the bloody contract that I closed last week. It's all signed, sealed and delivered. What kind of crap are you trying to feed me here? Once again, it was a thought, not a statement. After Tony asked me how things were going, I told him I would probably have to stay a couple days yet to calm them down. Then the moment I got off the phone to Tony, I called Monty Carter's secretary in Brighton. As I expected, she confirmed that there were no meetings planned that day between Robert and her boss. As a matter of fact, she could never recall them ever having met. Petra reappeared and urged me to hurry getting showered and dressed for the conference. So I stuffed the remainder of my breakfast down my throat and dashed into the shower. We were a little late arriving, but no one appeared to notice. An unbelievable round of introductions started, followed by a tour of the offices. We didn't get into the conference room until almost one o'clock. I've got to say that, my negotiations were really a complete farce. Everyone agreed to everything I said and they appeared to be more worried about whether I was upset about anything. I gathered that everyone agreed with me that the Jordon brothers were a couple of arseholes, and a complete waste of space. But that wasn't actually said in words. Convinced by then that they were planning on making me an offer that I couldn't refuse, I was somewhat surprised when the offer didn't materialise. When the meeting broke up, Paul and I, followed by a couple of other directors, made our way up to the roof to get on the helicopter. Petra, as usual, joined us. She asked me when I wanted to return to England and organised a flight for later in the day. On the golf course, I called my secretary in Chiswick on my mobile and told her I would be staying on for a few days. Whatever was going on back there, I wanted everyone to believe I was going to be out of the country for a few days yet. Petra must have over-heard my conversation. "Sorry to be inquisitive, John, but is something wrong? I've got to ask because, I couldn't help but notice every-time you call England, you're on edge about something," she asked in a concerned tone. "I'm not sure, but I think something isn't right over there, although I'm afraid it's personal." "We've known each other a long time, John? Can I be of any assistance? You know that I know how to be discrete." "Well, you could help me. It would be useful if nobody finds out that I'm flying home this evening. No one in England, that is! If what I fear is happening, I'd like to try and catch them in the act." "Oh, god, you don't think your wife is...." "I don't know, Petra. But we had an argument before I left and she hasn't been where I thought she should be when I've tried to call her. I can't seem to get hold of her on the phone either. It might be that she's still annoyed with me, but there's a man I can't get in touch with either, and someone else over there is telling me lies. There must be a reason for that." "Oh, I see now why you're in a hurry to get back. Look, if anyone from England tries to call you, I'll have them transferred to me. I'm the only one besides Paul who knows you're on the plane this evening anyway. All Paul's calls go through me, so I'll stall anyone who tries to get in touch with you. You can call them back on your cell phone and they'll have no idea where you are." "Thanks, Petra, now I think I'd better get back to the game." Whilst I'd been in conversation with Petra, I'd noticed Paul start to walk towards us. I'd moved out of earshot to make my phone calls. What I found confusing was the fact that out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Petra make a little gesture with her hand, when she saw Paul begin to move in our direction. Paul immediately changed direction and had fallen into conversation with the other two players. The game over, we went into SJ's mansion for a meal, where I met again SJ's daughter, Beatrice. Once again I thought something was not quite right. I'd known Bea for years, but she seemed awkward around me that day. I couldn't put my finger on it, but I got the feeling that these folks knew something I didn't. I began to wonder if I'd made a mistake in telling Petra of my suspicions. We flew back to the company HQ later in the day in the helicopter; then Petra accompanied me to the airport. She'd arranged for someone to collect my gear from the WA. The flight back to Heathrow was uneventful until I'd landed. A steward met me in the arrival's lounge, and told me there was an urgent phone call for me, leading me to a service phone. "John, its Petra. We had everyone on the phone for you last night, after you left. Your wife called and I told her you were in conference with Paul. Then later both the Johnsons called, but separately and I gave them the same message. Your wife then called again and asked me if I knew when you would be returning home. I told her I'd booked you on the Saturday evening flight. Was that all right?" "Thanks, Petra, that should be fine. I'll call them from my mobile later and give them the same story. Thanks for your help." "Keep in touch, John. I'll let you know if any of them call here again." So my loving wife had reappeared and was showing signs of being concerned about where I was. I wondered why she was suddenly so worried about me. I booked myself into the Novatel by the airport and found that Hertz had already delivered the car I ordered from New York. I, or rather the company, had an account with Hertz, so it was my simplest choice, but the car was booked to me privately. Not being tired, I took a drive past my house. Sally's car was in the drive and the house was in darkness. To be expected, since it was just after four in the morning. From the call box on the corner of our road, I called the house phone; there was no answer and the answer-phone picked up. I called four times in a row and, when she never answered on any of them, I figured it was safe to assume that Sally was not in the house. Leaving the car where it was, I walked down to the house and entered quietly. A quick search of the place proved to me that it was deserted. What to do now, I asked myself. Well, the best idea I could come up with was to sit down and wait for Sally to return. I made myself a pot of coffee and settled myself in the lounge. I'd planned on the coffee keeping me awake, but it didn't! It was the burble of the Lamborghini's noisy exhausts that woke me, just before eight o'clock. Through the window I watched Sally and Robert get out of the yellow peril and walk up to the house. "Come in, Bobby. It won't take me long to shower and change. Go in the kitchen and make some coffee, will you. I need something to clear my head." It was amazing; neither of them noticed me sitting in the lounge, even though the door was wide open. I guess some folks don't see what they don't expect to see. Sally ran up the stairs and Robert went into the kitchen. I heard him going through all the cupboards. Then he came out and called up the stairs to Sally. "Where do you keep your coffee percolator, Sal?" "On the side," she called back down to him. "Well, I can't find it," he called back up to her. I heard Sally come back down the stairs. "Oh, you men are useless without a good woman around to look after you," she said as she entered the kitchen. "That's funny, it should be on the side there. I don't think I left it in the lou.... OH, MY GOD! What are you doing here?" Sally, having not found the coffee percolator in the kitchen, had come into the lounge looking for it, and finally spotted me. She stood there in a skimpy bra and a thong. Neither of which I might add, I had ever seen before. "Oh, I was just sitting here waiting for my faithful wife to return. And now I think I'm gonna kick a slimy little arsehole's teeth down his fucking throat for him," I said as I got out of my chair. Both Robert and Sally seemed to be glued to the spot in shock for a moment; after all, they were both sure I was still in the US. Then Robert came to his senses and began to try to make his getaway. Unfortunately for him we had a rather unusual and complicated night latch on our front door. The damn lever on the thing turns the wrong way. The more he tugged and pulled at it, the more panic-stricken he became. I slammed him against the door and literally punched the shit out of him. I don't think the little wanker even knew how to defend himself. Sally was screaming at me that "it wasn't what it looked like" and was trying to pull me off of Robert. I don't think I knocked him about half as much as I would have liked to have done. To be honest, I'm not a naturally violent person. So when he tried to roll into a ball on the floor, I stopped hitting him. I think some folks would have taken the opportunity to kick the shit out of him, but it wasn't something I could bring myself to do. Turning the catch in the correct direction, I opened the door and shoved him outside. Then without really thinking about it, I grabbed hold of Sally and pushed her outside as well. Slamming the door closed, I returned to the lounge, only this time I headed for the liqueur cabinet. Sally banged on the door and rang the doorbell for a little while. Through the lounge window I watched Robert, who had retreated to his car, get out again carrying a travel blanket, I assume to cover Sally's almost naked body with. Sally called through the post box, once again saying that it wasn't what it looked like, and begging me to let her back in. I was adamant that I wasn't going to get into a shouting match with her, so I ignored her. Some of the neighbours had taken an interest in our little cabaret by then; I could see them watching from their front doors and gardens. Sally, I assume figured I was back in the lounge as she changed her target and began banging on one of the lounge windows, still screaming at me to let her in. Unfortunately for her she must have hit the window a little too hard. Just as the police arrived, the windowpane shattered and Sally cut her arm quite badly on the shards. It seemed that only a couple of moments passed before the paramedics and ambulance arrived. I assume the police called them; I didn't! Then I had a policeman knocking on the door. I'd watched him talk to both Sally and Robert before he did so. "Good morning, sir. Would you like to give me your side of this little debacle?" he asked. "I caught my wife with an arsehole. Do I need to say anymore?" "Not really, sir, but the man says you hit him." "I did. Wouldn't you? He was in my house!" "Hmm, you didn't strike your wife?" "No, I bloody didn't. I just helped her through the door, so she could be with her boyfriend. I thought I was being quite magnanimous." Another officer who had remained talking to Sally and Robert came over, shaking his head at the first officer. "He doesn't want to take it anywhere. And the lady says there was no violence shown towards her." Then he said to me, "That is a nasty gash your wife's got on her arm, sir. The medic says she's going to need some stitches in it, so they will be taking her to casualty. But she is going to need some clothes though. Will you take them down there for her?" "Not on your bloody life, I won't. That's her bleeding problem, not mine anymore. Let her little shit bag boyfriend buy her some new ones; he's got plenty of money," "I see. Look, you realise she must have some clothes. She can't walk around dressed like that. She's almost naked!" A Little Bitty Tear, Let Me Down. "Then she'll have to find some other mug to come in and get them for her then, won't she? You can go up and get some if you like, or perhaps her boyfriend would like to come back in for another round." My attention was taken by the burble of the Lamborghini driving away, following the ambulance. "Oh, it looks like she decided to do without. Now if you will excuse me, officers, I've got to call the window people and my solicitor." The policemen left after mumbling something about they hoped they weren't going to be called back later in the day. I called the window people and a guy was around within a few minutes to replace the broken glass. He tried to make small talk while he worked but soon gathered I wasn't in a talking mood. My solicitor transferred me to his colleague who handled divorces at their practice. She told me she'd put the wheels in motion, but couldn't do too much until we found out who Sally was going to have acting for her. It all really depended on how Sally wanted to play things. I noticed the police drive past several times during the morning, whilst I was stacking all Sally's clothes that I'd placed in bin-liners, in the garage. I have to assume there was some kind of collusion between the police and Sally going on. They must have informed Sally that I had put her stuff in the garage. Because, at around four in the afternoon, a different police car pulled up outside the house, with just a single officer in it this time. He didn't get out. A little later a Ford Transit van driven by one of the boys from the factory, came down the road and backed into my drive. Using the remote control I opened the garage shutter; it was obvious to me what they'd come for. Sally, her arm now in a sling, got out of the passenger door with one of the girls from her office. Whilst the guy and the girl loaded Sally's things into the van, I heard Sally trying the service door between the garage and the kitchen. Finding that locked she came around and rang the front doorbell. "John? John, I need to talk to you; you've got it all wrong. Nothing happened between Robert and me. John, can you hear me? I know you're in there. Speak to me, John, please. Let's talk this over, please. You're making a terrible mistake," Sally called through the post box. I opened the door, but before she could say anything further I stuffed her handbag in her hand and then slammed it closed again. I'd already removed her credit cards and house keys from it. I watched as Sally went and talked to the police officer, who got out of his car. He kept shrugging his shoulders and shaking his head. After a while and with a resigned look on his face he pointed to a spot on the ground, where I assume he was telling Sally and her friends to wait; then he came up and knocked on the door. "Your wife wishes to speak to you, sir. And you know you can't keep her out of the marital home," he said when I opened it. "You can tell her we have nothing to discus. The house is already in the market as she decided it's no longer our marital home. If it was, she would have been in it last night when I got home, instead of screwing her boyfriend somewhere else, wouldn't she? Tell her to get her lawyer to get in touch with mine, will you? She knows who mine are." The officer went back down the drive, where he had a short but very animated discussion with Sally and her friends. Sally then apparently collapsed into her two friend's arms, who then helped her back into the van. Then they drove away. The police officer stood there shaking his head, as he watched the garage shutter slowly close. With a shrug to one of the neighbours who'd been watching the pantomime, he got back in his car and drove away. +++++++++++++++++ An hour or so later Petra called me. I related to her the events of the day and she said she was sorry. She asked what I intended to do and I told her divorce Sally, and of course I wouldn't be able to work for Jordon's anymore. Petra told me that I must keep in touch with her and made me promise to do so. She also mentioned that Simon Johnson was going to call on me and said I had to stay In touch so that he would be able to find me. Paul had told me that once already. I wondered what was so important about this visit from Simon Johnson. It was midnight before I got back to the Novatel. There was no way I could sleep in that house again. It contained too many memories. After breakfast the following morning I called my secretary June and asked her if Tony was around. She told he wasn't going to be in the office that day and asked me what the hell was going on. Well, I told her straight out. June was very upset by the news. I'll swear she was crying as I told her. She informed me that Tony had told her I would probably be resigning when I reappeared. She got the impression that he'd stayed out of the office that day just to avoid being there when I turned up. I found Tony's absence strange. I would have thought that, after I'd knocked his brother about, he would have taken great pleasure in firing me. After all Robert is one of the company's directors and there wasn't any love lost between us. Nothing was really making any sense. None of this made any sense! First my trip to New York. Tony had insisted that I go, but when I got there, all Johnson's people seemed, if anything, surprised that I'd come. Yeah, there were some late deliveries but they didn't appear to be climbing the walls over them. Then there was Robert going after Sally. Yes, she's a good-looking woman. But Robert was a bit of a lad where women were concerned and always appeared to have some little dolly bird on his arm. Sally was at least five years older than he was. And nearly ten years older than his usual tarts. I don't know. I suppose they could have fallen in love. They did spend a lot of their working life together. But somehow I doubted Robert would have done that. I went into the office to collect my personal property. I took the opportunity to wipe the hard drive on my both company computer and the laptop that I carried. But not before copying the contents of the hard drives onto zip-drives. I took my letter of resignation, that June had produced for me, to the personnel officer myself. While I stood there and waited, he arranged for my final salary and bonuses to be paid into my bank immediately. The accounts department were a little reluctant at first; that is until they realised who it was that was resigning. I think nearly the whole of the staff either helped me carry my gear down to the hire car or came out to wave me goodbye. I'd left my company car safely locked in the garage back at the house. I wanted to make sure I got everything I was owed, before I'd let them have that back. That was that really. I lived in the Novatel for a week or so, before I found a flat I liked. The house sold very quickly; it was in a good area and I priced it for a quick sale. Work? Well I thought I'd take a few months off and contemplate my next move. To be honest I was still expecting Johnson's to make me an offer and didn't wish to commit myself elsewhere too quickly. Sally? I saw her a couple of times. On both occasions we had blazing rows. Correction: on both occasions I called her a cheating little slut and she retaliated. Civil discussions between us appeared to be impossible. I was surprised she didn't shack up with Robert straight away; she didn't move in with him until some months after I kicked her out of the house. Whose flat she'd been staying at in the meantime, I don't know. But the guy I hired to watch her said she moved in with Robert right after our first big argument at the solicitors. They nearly had to call the police to that one. Probably she realised that there was no way we were getting back together at that meeting. Our second battle of words was when we signed the divorce papers. Sally, looking very strange, was sitting at the table before I entered the room. She was wearing a big winter coat and was sitting rather strangely. My solicitor and I sat opposite whilst the details of the settlement were read out, then Sally signed the papers. They were placed in front of me and as I went to sign Sally asked. "John, are you really sure you want to do this? There's some things you really need to...." "Did you hear some cheating lying little slut say something, Sandra?" I asked my solicitor. Sally went ape shit at me, calling me all kinds of names, so I signed the forms quickly and left the room without adding another word. As I have said before, I didn't need or wish to get into a slanging match with her. +++++++++++++++++ It was a few weeks; maybe a month or so after the divorce became final, that Petra called me to let me know that Simon Johnson was arriving in Southampton that weekend. I arranged to go down to meet him at a hotel in the town. After the awkward formalities were over, Simon and his wife chatted to me about their cruise for a while. Once again I got the feeling that he was up to something. Look, the guy was just a client that I'd known for years, but now he was behaving like a long lost friend. Oh, we went through the condolences bit on Henry's death and he said he was very sorry to hear about what had happened between Sally and I. And then he said that he was really sorry he couldn't have acted sooner, but he had to respect Henry's wishes. That statement told me he had been beating around the bush. Well, that all ended when Bea entered the room. She said hi to me and gave me a hug and a kiss on the cheek as usual. Then she gave Simon the briefcase she was carrying. Bea and Simon's wife then left the room before he opened it. "Right, John, let's get down to business. Tell me, what did you think when Henry floated the company and didn't give you any of the shares?" he suddenly asked. I really didn't know what to reply. "Well, it was his company and he could do what he wanted with his money," I said. "But you'd helped him to build it. From what I know of Henry, I'll bet you'd gone out on a limb for him more than a few times." I didn't answer that. I figured he'd get to the point of all this before too long. "Did you know that Henry owned a large proportion of Johnson's as well, through off-shore holding companies? And those same companies also hold a good proportion of Jordon's shares. This was news to me, but I still thought I'd be better to keep my mouth shut and listen to what Simon had to say. "Tell me, what did Henry say to you when he retired? He knew he didn't have long to live." "He asked me to try to keep his boys under control. But with me not being on the board meant there was fat chance of me doing that." "Yes, I'm sorry to have to tell you, he did that on purpose. He figured the boys would bankrupt the company within a year or so and he didn't want your name on the paper work. He thought they would try to lay the blame off on you. You know that if a company goes bankrupt through mismanagement of its funds, the directors can be banned from holding other directorships, don't you? "Anyway he figured the boys would bleed the company dry before too long. Now, these papers here make you the main shareholder of those holding companies. In essence, they belong to you." Simon placed a sheath of papers on the table. "And, these papers here contain the details of all Henry's numbered bank accounts. I was supposed to hold on to all of this, until after Jordon and Son's went down the tubes. But with what the brother's did to you, I think you'd better have them now. "Did you know that in the terms of their father's will, the brothers couldn't fire you, don't you? Ah, I see you didn't. I think the bastards set you and Sally up so that you would resign. He sat back and looked at me. "You know, John, you're a very rich man now, although all your money is in off-shore accounts, so you've got to figure out how to get it back into the country legally. I can show you a few tricks there. I've got some very inventive accountants." My mind was going in circles. He'd just told me that Robert Jordon had seduced Sally and ruined my life for no other reason than to get me out of the firm. But why? "You look angry, John, and I don't blame you. Look, Henry was never convinced the boys were really his. Martha had a habit of having affairs whilst Henry was away working. He had DNA tests done some years back and.... well, for a while he figured he was their father, even if they weren't actually his sons. But he came to believe they knew that he wasn't their real father. And he found out they said some very nasty things about him, behind his back. "Henry always said you were more like a son to him, so he decided that you would have all his money. He figured the boys would wreck the firm. I think he wants them bankrupt and penniless, as I assume you do now, as well." "But what about the staff at Jordon's? They will all lose their jobs." "No, not if some big American company picks up the pieces. Do you understand Henry's little game now, John? Johnson's will cancel its contracts with Jordon's within the next week or so. Then the next day one or two of the offshore stockholders will dump a load of Jordon's shares on the London stock market. That should kill the share price. A hint will be made to the right bank directors, and they will call in the company's loans. "Then a consortium will step in and buy what's left of the company from the banks. I'll let you guess who's going to be at the head of that consortium and will be the main shareholder, but no one will know that part. "You, of course, will renegotiate the contracts with Johnson's. Hey, in time perhaps you will invite me to join you on your board. Then a merger between Johnson's and Jordon's will put you on Johnson's board as well. "How does that all sound to you, John?" "I don't understand. Why didn't Henry just leave the company to me in the first place?" "And you'd be fighting their challenges to the will for the next twenty years. You were with Henry almost every day of his working life for the last few years. You know Henry always was a little on the eccentric side. He was sure that the family would claim you had undue influence over him. You know they were sure he had some money squirreled away abroad somewhere. "They've spent a lot of money over the last few years, looking for it. That's why Henry placed it all in my care. Anyone checking on where your money comes from will discover that it comes from me. Oh, and as I'm not connected with Johnson and Partners any more, they can't throw insider trading at us. And of course I've been on that bloody ship for the last six months." +++++++++++++++++ So there we are. I'm now the Joint Chairman, Simon Johnson Associates. I leave Paul to run the American branch and keep my eyes on what goes on in Europe. Both the Jordon brothers were made bankrupt and are banned from being directors of any company for ten years. Oh, they've tried to set things up a couple of times, but I had guys keeping a close eye on them. Surprisingly, to my mind, Robert married Sally. I'm not sure but I think he thought Sally was going to get her hands on some of the money that I'm sure he suspected was coming my way. But as that had officially come into my possession after Sally and I were divorced, he had no bloody chance. And once they were married, I applied to the court to terminate her alimony arrangements. After that, they got nothing from me. The marriage didn't last more than a year or so. I've got to be honest; I was sorry for the twins Sally had by him. I suppose they must have been getting together in the office for sex after I threw her out, as the guy I had watching Sally said they rarely met in the evenings. I doubted the bastard ever paid her maintenance after he left her. You know these things go through your mind, I wondered exactly how many years Robert had been screwing Sally over his desk. But, she must have fallen pregnant pretty quickly after we separated. I saw her pushing a pram in Slough High Road, just a year after I kicked her out. The last I heard of Robert, he was living in southern Spain somewhere, with the drug squad on his case. Southern Spain, Morocco, not far for a fast boat. I should imagine that's how Robert's mind was working. Well, that's why I tipped the drug squad off, anyway. As for Tony, apparently he's driving buses around London. Not the nicest place to drive a bus. His wife divorced him after she received information about his little flat mate. No prizes for guessing who supplied her with that information. And of course Tony has his mother Martha living with him. Do I feel any guilt about Martha losing her income from Jordon and Son's? Well, the question should really be did Martha feel any guilt about running around on Henry. You do tend to reap what you sow! Sally, the last I'd heard, was living in a council flat in Slough. Living off the social, I should imagine. I don't know, perhaps she's hooking on the side. Sorry, that was uncalled for, but it's how I feel. Things took off quite quickly once we got the ball rolling. Paul and I worked very well together. Well, we'd both been trained by experts; Henry Jordon trained me and Simon Johnson trained Paul. In the next few years, we swallowed other companies wholesale. Combining the two companies had made us a big multi-national. Paul and I have both stepped back a bit now and let the minions do most of the worrying. Simon Johnson and his wife settled in England. He's got a nice estate next to mine. His daughter, Bea, and I kind of hang around together. No, we're not into getting hitched, and have no plans to. We've both been down that road once. Bea's on the board with Paul and I, and of course, Petra. We're all getting along just fine. Yeah, Petra? Well, what did you expect? Paul's wife died in a road accident some year's back. After beating around the bush for a long time, he married Petra. Paul claims that she only married him because she got fed up with waiting for me to ask her. So you might ask why am I living in this penthouse all on my own. Well, there's something missing in my life and has been since ... you know when. I kind-a live day to day. If an opportunity crops up to make a killing on the market, I'll grab it. But there's got to be more to life than making money. +++++++++++++++++ Okay so now this social worker hands me a letter from Sally. I read through it quickly, then hit the intercom button on my desk. "Colette, can you find out if Beatrice is in the building and ask her to come up here ASAP." "Yes, Sir, I think she is in her office. I saw her earlier and I haven't seen her go out again." Bea was at my door just a few minutes later. When she entered the room, I handed her the letter without saying anything. As Bea read it, she took in a few deep breathes that told me its contents had made her angry. "The vicious vindictive little bitch. Did you have any idea?" "Not the slightest." "What are you going to do?" "Come on, Bea. I have no choice in the matter." Turning my attention to June Parsons, I asked, "What hospital is Sally in?" "Slough General." "And what's the prognosis, do you know?" "When I was there last evening, they didn't know. She had taken a cocktail of drugs. Just about everything she had in the house. They pumped her out but they have no idea how long she had been laying there. The doctor told me it would be sometime before they have any real idea." "And the children?" "I placed them with an emergency foster mother last night. She'll look after them today. I thought I'd ask you what you wanted to do. Oh, I have to take that note back. If she doesn't make it, the coroner will want to see it." A Little Bitty Tear, Let Me Down. "No problem, run off a copy for me, Bea, and then give the original back to Miss Parsons here." "Colette, get me the general manager of Slough Hospital ASAP." The intercom again. Shortly the phone rang. "Hello! Yes, good, you know who I am then. I've got a question for you. How much is your hospital overspent this year. ---- Okay here's the deal. You have a patient in there by the name of Sally ... sorry, June, what name is Sally using?" "The same as your name, Crawford," June Parson replied. That was a surprise. "Right, you have a patient by the name of Sally Crawford. A drug overdose case. If she survives, your hospital will receive a check from me for one million pounds. If she dies, you get squat. Do you understand? --- Good! I want no corners cut, no expense spared. Good bye." "Surely they are doing all they can anyway," Bea commented. "I don't trust these bloody bureaucrats running our hospitals nowadays. You hear too much about how they try to cut corners. I just wonder sometimes. Anyway flashing a million quid at them can't do any harm and I'm damn sure everything possible will be done for Sally now." "Right. Now come on, let's go and collect my kids. I assume that's what you came here for in the first place, June." "Well, Mrs Crawford claims that they're your children in that letter. I can see no harm in turning their care over to you for the time being at least. But you realise that, until a judge says otherwise, they are my responsibility." "You needn't worry. They will be in good hands, and you can rely on me to keep you abreast of what is happening to them. With your permission we'll take them to my house near Swindon. There should be plenty there to keep them occupied until we find out how Sally is going to be. We can get up the motorway in an hour or so to visit her in the hospital." "I'm pleased that you're thinking that way, Mr Crawford." "Come on, we started this conversation with John and June. I'm sure the children will be more relaxed if we keep things that way." The three of us made our way to the basement car park. Miss Parsons joined Bea and myself in the back of my limousine for the journey to Slough. We stopped at the hospital first to check on Sally. The doctors weren't too willing to commit themselves at what they termed as 'this early stage'. Then June Parsons guided us to the foster home where the children were staying. Bea and I stayed in the car whilst she went in to speak to the children alone first. Ten minutes later she signalled for me to join her; Bea followed me inside. "Kay and Heather, this is your Uncle John. He's going to look after you until your mother is feeling better," June told them. We'd decided on the Uncle John bit, until we knew how Sally was going to be. And how the girls were going to take to me. "Hi, girls, this is my friend Beatrice, you can call her Auntie Bea." The two ten year olds were eyeing both Bea and myself with some suspicion. "Until your mummy gets better, you are going to stay with your Uncle John at his home in the country. I think you'll like it there; he has horses you can ride and the house has its own swimming pool," Bea added. "Where is our mother? Can we see her?" Kay asked. "Is she going to die?" Heather added. "Well, the doctors are doing their best to prevent that from happening," I volunteered. The girls were still looking distrustful. "We saw her a little while ago, but if you wish, we can stop at the hospital and you can see how hard they are working to make her well again." "They might not let the children in to see her," June pointed out. "They'll let these children in to see their mother, I assure you. Remember those pound signs," I replied. We dropped June off at the station where she'd left her car when she'd travelled up to town to see me. Then we went on to the hospital. As I expected, the rules were bent to allow the girls into the ICU. The girls didn't cry as I'd expected them to do. Actually they were a couple of tough little cookies. Oh, and Bea pointed out there was a distinct family resemblance to myself. At that point I decided to forget about the DNA tests I had planned. The run down to Wiltshire was pretty quiet. Once they began to feel at home in the Limo, the girls played with just about everything. The idea that you could watch TV whilst travelling down the Motorway was novel to them. It was as we turned off the Motorway that Heather turned to me and asked, "You're our father, aren't you?" I could see no point in denying it. "Yes, I believe I am, but I have to tell you, I was unaware of that fact until today. If I had been, you would have seen a lot of me." "We know. Mummy told us last week that she didn't tell you about us. We didn't know what she was planning to do, but she told us she had been very nasty to you and didn't tell you that you were our father. She said you believed her other husband was our dad," Heather continued. "She was crying!" Kay added. "That is true. Perhaps one day your mother will explain why she did what she did." "Do you think she's going to get better then?" Kay asked "Well, I certainly hope so." "She doesn't want to get better. She wants to go to heaven." Heather said. "I can't believe that, with two wonderful children like you," Bea replied. "Mummy's tired. She works so hard and there's never enough money." "Well, there is going to be now and she definitely won't be working anymore. There, see that little house?" The car was just entering the grounds of my estate. "When she gets better, I'm going to ask your mother if she would like to live in that house. You two will be able to ride horses here and swim in the pool up at the big house." The two girl's eyes were open wide as they stared at the mansion the car had stopped in front of. The house staff came rushing down the steps to meet them. I knew that hurried preparations had been made for the girls' arrival. One of the guest rooms, with twin beds, had been made ready for them. I think Bea and I were forgotten as the house staff fussed around the girls and whisked them away. "Well, that's a turn up for the book," Bea said. "I wonder why she didn't tell you they were yours." "Oh, Sally must have laid on quite a subterfuge to hide the fact from me that she was pregnant. You know, now I think about it, I think she must have been showing at that last meeting we had; when we signed the divorce papers. As I remember she was sitting at that table all kind of hunched over and she had a long coat on. I can remember thinking it was a very strange thing to wear on a nice day like that. "I wonder why she hated me that much. After all, it was her that cheated on me. How else did she expect me to react when I found out she was sleeping with that arsehole?" "You'll have to ask her. That's supposing she survives." The children settled in very well, I thought. Getting fussed over by the house staff, they seemed to enjoy a lot. Every night I would tuck them up in bed and tell them a little more about their mother's and my life together. I stopped short of the last year. +++++++++++++++++ It was two weeks later that I entered the room where Sally was sleeping. She'd woken in a compos mentis condition for the first time, the evening before. I placed the letter she had left in her hand and waited for her to wake up. I suppose I must have dozed while I waited. "Hello, John. I'm sorry!" was the first thing I heard her say. I looked over at her and saw she was staring at the letter in her hand. "How are my girls?" "They're fine. I left them in the swimming pool this morning. I can tell you they are wearing my staff out. They are two lovely girls, a real a credit to you. Bea is going to bring them here this afternoon." "Thank you. I'm sorry I hid them from you. It was a silly thing that I did in anger. But once it was done, I couldn't think of a way to reverse it." "Well, I couldn't think of a worse way than the one you chose." "I'm sorry but I was desperate. You know I owe thousands of pounds that I just can't pay back. Robert left me with so many debts; he had me sign for everything. I think that's why he married me because he, as a bankrupt, couldn't get any credit." "You have no debts now, Sally. I've cleared them all. And those sharks that you borrowed from are now out of business, permanently." "Oh, you found out about them." "That wasn't hard to do. They turned up at your flat demanding money whilst one of my staff was collecting the rest of the girls' things. He told them to come later, and, well, I think they got a bit of a surprise when they did. Rest assured they are never going to bother you again." "Why are you being so nice to me? The last time you saw me, you...." "That was a long time ago, Sally, and I was still hurting then. Now it's just an unhappy memory. Mind, I hurt a lot when I read your letter. I'm going to take a long time forgiving you for keeping my girls from me." "I'm sorry. That's all I can say." "Well, as far as the girls know, we are friends now. Tomorrow, if you agree, you are going to be moved to my house. I've got a couple of nurses lined up to look after you there. When you've fully recovered, you and the girls can live in one of the estate houses. That way I can see them often." "You're not going to take the children from me?" "I'm not going to take their mother away from my girls, no. They love you, possibly more than I did once. But I'll make sure you never take them away from me again." "I'm sorry, that's all I keep saying. But I am truly sorry for all the stupid things I've done." "There's one question that I've got to ask you, Sally. Why did you go with that bleeding creep in the first place?" "Don't you think that's a question I've asked myself a thousand times over the last ten years? I'm not sure I have an answer. He worked on me very carefully over a long time. Oh, I know why he set out to do it. He told me when he realised the girls weren't his. That didn't take him long; they look so much like you. "He said they couldn't sack you, something to do with their father's will. They were convinced that you had some of their father's money. They thought when you didn't have a job, you would use some of it to - I don't know - start a business of your own, I suppose. They had private detectives watching you all the time. "Were they pissed off, when you went to Southampton and met up with Simon Johnson. Then a week later the company's four biggest contracts were cancelled; Johnson's amongst them. But you knew that was going to happen, didn't you? I think the bank foreclosing on them really took them by surprise. They hadn't expected that one. "The next thing was the police turning up at the house. Did you know that Robert charged just about everything to the company? We had nothing, no house, car or anything. Robert and Tony were arrested for misuse of company funds. But I suspect you were behind all that." "No, Sally, the forces of law moved along their own paths without any help from me. But Robert and Tony were on ridiculous salaries. What did they do with all their money?" "I'm not sure. They both liked to play the stock market and Robert threw money around like water in the clubs. He wasn't averse to a little gambling as well. I think they'd squandered it all, when they came up with the idea of getting you out of the firm. They planned on you revealing where all the money was that they were convinced Henry had squirreled away." "You still haven't explained why you went with the arsehole." "Well, I was angry with you. You know Robert was very clever; he pulled the wool over my eyes. Every time you went away he'd make little comments. He'd let me overhear conversations that led me to believe you had girlfriends all over the place. It's hard to explain, but I'd hear him discussing with Tony expenses you'd put through for night clubs and things. "Oh, I'm sure they were legitimate expenses. But it was the little asides he'd say to Tony on the phone; that I wasn't supposed to hear, but of course he made sure I did. You know, man talk; he'd say things like you had a new girl in New York or Rome, and you'd spent a lot money entertaining her. "They had me convinced that when any trips came up, you wanted to go and meet up with your girlfriends." "But if you thought I was running around on you why didn't you challenge me?" "Because I couldn't bring myself to believe it. If I challenged you and you said it was true, what was I going to do then? I wasn't strong like you were. I don't think I could have walked away and divorced you. I would have been living in misery. "But as time went on I was beginning to waver in that belief. And then that play came up. You knew I wanted you to take me to it. Well, Robert was sitting there when you called and said you were going to New York. He heard our conversation, and I was crying so he comforted me. Then he drove me home so I could get your bag and then to the airport. "We didn't go back to work. Robert said I was too upset. We went down to The River at Sunnydale and sat there talking all afternoon. After that he took me for a meal and to the play that night. I think I must have had too much to drink. I know it's no excuse, but that night I went to bed with him. I'm sure I wouldn't have done it if I hadn't drunk so much. But that's easy to say now, isn't it. "I was feeling very low and Robert made me feel good about myself that day. After all, my so-called loving husband had just flown off to meet his girlfriend. Well, so I thought! "I still thought that until Robert walked out on me. He told me everything about how they set it up. If you hadn't come home that day, they had photographs of Robert and me together; they were going to send them to you anonymously. "I knew it was wrong to sleep with Robert. And if it's any consolation to you, he was not very good in bed. Too selfish...." "I don't want to know that, Sally." "I'm sorry, but he was useless at just about everything, except hitting me. He got quite good at that towards the end. When you came back and found Robert and I together, I was angry. I'm not sure why but I felt you set me up. That bloody girl told me you weren't coming home until the Sunday. That bloody little tart...." "Petra." "Yes, Petra. I was sure she was your bit of stuff over there." "Well, she wasn't!" "Don't you think I realise that now? But I thought you set me up so that you could catch me and divorce me. That made me really angry. Oh, I suppose I was angry with myself really. "I was going to tell you about the twins the day we signed the divorce papers. I had it planned. I'd sign the papers and then before you signed, I'd tell you about the babies. That way it wouldn't be as if I was using them to get you to change your mind and take me back. You'd have had the choice whether to sign them or not. "But you were still angry with me. You know, I think that's when I really should have realised that you hadn't been cheating on me. If you had, you surely wouldn't have been so angry with me for doing the same thing. No, you called me a bloody slut or something and I lost my temper. I'm sorry." "For god's sake, stop saying you're sorry. What's done is done and nothing can change it." "Will you ever forgive me?" "Forgive you, now that's a question. Possibly I might forgive you eventually, but there is no way I'm ever going to forget. But there are two lovely young ladies in this equation now, and I - or rather we - have to think of them. I will be civil to you at all times and I expect you to be civil in return. As far as the girls are concerned, you are their mother and I will be their loving father. Just don't bring your boyfriends around my house." "There's never been any boyfriends and there never will be, ever." "Ever is a long time, Sally!" +++++++++++++++++ Sally recovered, after a fashion, and lived in the little house on the estate with the girls until they went to university. Cancer took her a couple of years ago now. I don't think she really had it in her to fight that hard. I'm convinced the drugs she took in that overdose left her with some permanent damage. Bea and I married in the end. Do we love each other? Well, I don't think I love Beatrice in the same way I loved Sally. Bea and I are kind of soul mates. We're very fond of each other and we enjoy making love to each other. I suppose it is love but not the same kind of love. The twins are grown and married now. They have children of their own. Bea has been designated grandma, a title I believe she thinks she's too young to hold. Am I happy now? Yes and no! Wouldst that I could have lived my life out with the woman I loved. Now I can only put flowers on her grave. Beatrice waits at the gate of the cemetery every Sunday whilst I do so. Life goes on.