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Back to Bristol Ch. 02

By: GaryAPB



Chapter 02

At eight thirty the following morning I was parking my car in its marked bay at ITI-Franks. I sat there for a couple of seconds, steeling myself to show the kind, considerate leader of men that I was, and not the nervous little schoolboy that was churning my stomach as he tried to get out.

Then with a purposeful and confident stride, I was out of the car and walking up the steps and through the doors to Reception. No sooner was I in the lobby than I was approached by a woman in her mid-forties, smartly dressed and quite attractive.

"Mr Bennett? I'm Carole with an E Thorsen. I was Secretary to Mr Bauer. Welcome to W R Franks & Sons."

I took her proffered hand and shook it, "Thank you, Carole with an E. I hope you haven't been waiting here since the early hours?"

She laughed, "Good Heavens! No. I like working here, but there are limits. No, I got in at eight, but I hoped it was going to be before you. Let me show you to your office." She turned to the security guy on the desk. "George, we'll sort out Mr Bennett's passes and security later. OK?" But she didn't give him time to answer.

She whisked me off until we got to an office suite with an outer office which I assumed was hers. Then she opened the door to the room beyond. I stood at the door way. Somewhere, at the other end of this stateroom there was a desk and a huge chair behind it, but really you'd need binoculars to see them. 

"You must be joking! Did Henri Bauer give ballroom dancing lessons as a sideline? It's enormous. I don't need this!"

"Mr Bauer was rather into nice surroundings and status."

"Obviously. Oh, well, I'll sort it out later. What's lined up for me."

"Nothing too much. Lots of introductions, but a pretty flexible day. Most people seem to be keeping their powder dry, at least until tomorrow. But Tim Johnson of IT wants to see you urgently."

"What about?"

"He has some idea about you talking to all the staff that he wants to put up to you."

"OK. Well he can wait. Show me where the Gents is so that I can wash my hands. I guess I've got a lot of handshaking to do, and clean dry hands would be a good start. Then you can give me a conducted tour."

"Your bathroom is through there." She pointed to a door off my office, just a little bit down from where the band would play for tea dances.

"I get my own bathroom?"

"Of course, Mr Bauer was very particular about things like that."

I felt my eyebrows go up an inch, but I didn't say a word. To criticise Henri Bauer to his no doubt loyal PA would be unfair on her.

She waited for me while a went into 'my' bathroom. And it wasn't just a place to piss, or sit and do the crossword. Shower, toilet, a large dressing table with inset basin, and all soft lights, warm coloured tiles and mirrors. But no music playing, Henri Bauer missed a trick there.

Carole was still waiting for me when I came out. I looked around my palace, "There's no conference table?"

"No, Mr Bauer always used the Boardroom. It is expressly kept for use by directors only. But mainly he used to see people in here, and he had a way of letting them know how much in favour they were by how close to his desk they had to stand. If they were really good they were allowed to sit in the visitors' chairs."

I watched her, she was deadpan, I don't think she was joking.

We set off to do a tour of the building, I confirmed my understanding that we had a specialist engineering workshop, building prototypes and solving problems, down in Exeter. I knew from my reading the company history, this was a small engineering company that had been bought a few years ago, but had been left as an autonomous unit. I also confirmed that our only other premises were the Laboratories at Marston Abbey, somewhere out of town. 

I was impressed by the whole office-factory complex. Not only was it architecturally very attractive, a showpiece on how to convert Victorian buildings to modern standards, but by the people and the factory itself. It did seem that we were already mainly doing assembly rather than manufacturing, except for some unique specialist parts, so my initial hope that I might make a quick win on insisting on more outsourcing was instantly dashed.

We didn't seek out the bosses, we just toured the building and I shook hands with anybody and everybody I met, irrespective of their role. Of course, I shook too many hands, and was introduced to too many faces. They seemed a nice bunch of people, I was rather happy with the cross mix of people we seemed to have. But, I had to apologise before I started that everyone was becoming part of a sea of faces, and I'd have to be re-introduced to them all over the coming days.

When we got back to my office, some two hours later, I asked Carole to get me a cup of coffee, and then she could ask Tim Johnson to come up and see me. 

When she brought me my coffee, I was reading some marketing brochures that I'd picked up on my tour. "Mr Bennett, could I say something please?"

I looked up, "Of course. And it's Chris, by the way."

She smiled, "I just wanted to say that I understand that the relationship between a director and his secretary is very important, not only for both of them, but for the Company."

"I agree."

"Well, if you would rather make your own appointment, I am happy to go and see Personnel and see what else they might have for me."

"Have I upset you that quickly?"

I didn't fluster her for a second, "No, but you should be free to choose your own secretary."

"Well, thank you Carole. Let's just see how we get on. How long have you worked here?"

"Sixteen years. I came as a secretary to a junior director. He got promoted all the way up to being Managing Director until TDF bought the company. I remained as Mr Bauer's secretary then."

"Well, I'd be a fool to turn my back on all that company knowledge and experience unless I had to. Tell you what, what's in the diary for tomorrow?"

"Nothing."

"Well, I'd better be around here for lunch today, but book us a long lunch somewhere outside. Not over the top, but nice. And we can get to know each other. How about that?"

"That's very kind. Thank you, Mr Bennett."

"Chris." I reminded her, as she went out of the door.

Soon after that Tim Johnson came in, he seemed a nice guy, and he had an idea that I might like to introduce myself to everybody by doing a network broadcast. Everybody, including those at Exeter and Marston Abbey had easy access to a screen. I thought it a rather good idea, and instantly agreed, although I hadn't any idea what I would say. Five minutes after he arrived, he was leaving to send out an email alert for half past four.

Then I called to Carole to ask if all other directors could join me in my office, as soon as possible, to give me a briefing on all issues of the day.

That went well, and took us up to lunch. Now I'd seen the staff cafeteria on my tour, and my quick five minutes in the kitchen had looked as if they served decent food. And so, off we all set for lunch.

We got to the corridor with the canteen off it, when they opened a door to me, I looked in; it was set with several tables, neatly laid for lunch. 

"A Directors' Dining Room?" I asked incredulously. 

"Oh, no. We can't have one of those these days, it wouldn't be acceptable. No, here you pay fifteen percent more than in the cafeteria. It's still buffet service, but a waitress does lay the tables, and clear them for us."

"So, who uses it?"

"Well really just us, a few other senior managers, some of the girls if it's someone's birthday, and sales if they've got a client in."

"Well, I guess I'll be seeing a lot of it. But for today, I'll go to the usual cafeteria, it'll be a chance for me to meet some of the troops. But you guys can go where you want, I'll be chatting to others over lunch. But let's all reconvene in my office in an hour say."

And I left them there wondering what the hell to do!

Having gone round the serving run, I stood and looked at the canteen. Then I spotted exactly what I wanted. A table for six, but with only five people sitting at it, and I was pretty sure I hadn't been introduced to any of them. "Excuse me, I'm new here today, may I join you?"

They obviously didn't recognise me, "You chose a good day to join, mate. You're in good company. We've got a new managing director starting today."

Then another, "Have you seen, he's giving a presidential broadcast at half past four?"

"Sounds typical. Talk to the workers, but don't actually come into contact with them."

The only girl in the group spoke up in my defence, "I didn't see him, but apparently the new guy did a tour of the building this morning. Didn't any of you lot see him? Martin Chyte said he seemed OK."

The guy on my left said, "I heard he shook a few hands." He turned to me, "What's your name, and what department you in?"

"I'm Chris, and I suppose you'd say I was in sort of Management."

Most of them looked a bit nonplussed. It was the girl who caught on first, "Shit! You're...Ooh sorry ... pardon my French, but you're him, aren't you?"

After that we had quite a good chat. I noticed that some of my hand shakers of the morning had also spotted me there. 

When I got back to my office, Carole looked up and smiled, "Well that put the cat amongst the pigeons."

"You heard?"

"News travels fast."

When my fellow directors had reconvened there was a loaded atmosphere. I went straight to the point: "Look, I'd just spent well over an hour with you guys, and I knew we were going to spend more time together this afternoon. Don't you think it did me more good to be seen by everybody, and chat to some others with a different point of view of the Company?

It was Bill Elswood, the Client Service Director, who spoke, "Well, actually it made me think. It wouldn't do me any harm to have lunch with a few of my juniors once in a while. I hardly remember their names. 

We hadn't got much further when Tim Johnson turned up with cameras and monitors and trailing cables. 

"Oh, I'd hoped your office would be where you'd want to do it from. But I can set up somewhere else." He looked slightly bewildered.

"No, we'll clear out and go to the Boardroom. You set up in here. How are we going to do it?"

"Well, I thought you'd just sit at your desk and talk." He said, somewhat lamely.

"No, I'll come round the front of the desk, perch my arse on it, and do a shirt-sleeved, friendly chat."

We left him to set up, but I was back by half past three, to rehearse a bit and understand how it was going to work. I wrote myself a few notes of what I was going to say, but I decided that I'd do it off the cuff, unscripted, and honestly admitting that I'd been too busy on my first day to really sit down and write out what I wanted to say.

Apparently it went well, several people, including Carole with an E, were impressed. The PR girl from Marketing wanted to know if she can work on getting me a few external interviews and appearances.

After that, for the rest of the day, it was taken up with Admin. Getting myself security passes so that I could get around all parts of the building. Getting myself a whole set of computer passwords for various systems and generally becoming a member of staff.

I sent Carole home just before six o'clock, and I didn't take too long to leave as well.

I grabbed a Chinese on the way home, and just sat and watched television that evening. But just before eight o'clock my phone rang.

"Hi, Chris, it's Keith."

"Oh, Hello Keith, I wasn't expecting to here from you."

"No, but I wondered if you fancied a pint?"

"Honestly?  No. It's been my first day....."

"Of course, sorry, I should have asked: How did it go?"

"Good. But considering I didn't really do very much all day, it was absolutely knackering. I'm dead on my feet.."

"Nervous exhaustion I expect. Tomorrow will be easier."

"Yes, I'm sure it will. So, how about tomorrow evening?"

"Can't. I've got an old client buying me a farewell dinner."

"Wednesday evening?"

"Sounds good. Why not my Golf Club? I might as well get full benefit out of membership while I'm still here. And you used to like it there, and they do a great steak these days."

"Sounds good to me. Seven thirty OK with you?"

"Great, I'll see you."

First thing Tuesday morning I sat in on the weekly Sales and Marketing meeting, two hours to learn five minutes worth of facts, but it was worth it in getting to know the Company. When I got back to my office I stopped at Carole's desk for any messages.

"Neil Davidson has asked to see you urgently." 

Now I knew Neil from yesterday, he was the Personnel Director.

"Any idea what about?"

"He wouldn't tell me. But he has Dr McBaine with him."

"Who's head of Marston Abbey if I remember my organogram. But you didn't answer my question." I raised my eyebrows and waited.

Carole smiled, "I think they'd better tell you."

"OK. Fetch them over. And I guess you better get some coffee for everybody."

About two minutes later Neil was coming into my office accompanied by a man that I would guess was in his late fifties. He was average height, short grey hair, gold rimmed spectacles and very blue eyes.

"Chris, this is Dr Piers McBaine, Head of our Laboratories out at Marston Abbey."

I shook his hand. "I'm looking forward to coming out to Marston Abbey and seeing you all."

They looked at each other, "Will you tell him or I?" asked Neil.

Just then Carole came in with a tray of coffee which she put down on my desk, and I suggested "Well why don't you both sit down, and then one of you tell me."

Dr McBaine looked at Neil, "I'll tell him." He looked round at me, "I had my deputy come and see me this morning, he is very upset and worried. His name is Peter Davies......"

THANK YOU GOD! I believe in you now, and you're not such a bastard after all!

I busied myself to pour the coffee. I hoped my face did not show how I felt, I hoped I was just sitting there looking thoughtful, as I took my first sip of coffee.

"My ex-wife's husband?" 

I was looking at Dr McBaine, and he answered, "Yes. He fears that you will make his working here impossible."

"And what did you say?" I noticed Neil was sitting there, sipping his coffee but watching this conversation, or probably more accurately, watching me.

"I told him that his work was important to the company, and he has my full support. Then I phoned Neil and came straight over here."

"You did the right thing." I looked straight into Dr McBaine's exceedingly blue, and I thought intelligent eyes, "Whatever I think of Mr Davies, he is an employee here. He has the full support and protection that the group personnel policies provide for everyone. He is no exception. You should make that clear to him." I turned to Neil, "And Neil, if necessary you should go over to Marston Abbey and tell him as well."

Piers McBlaine looked at me, picked up his coffee, "Would you come out to Marston Abbey, or could he come and see you to reassure himself?" He drank some coffee, but he was watching me intently.

"Certainly not. As I said, he is no exception. I do not chase around to reassure individual members of staff because they have got it into their heads that they may be bullied or unfairly treated. That's Personnel's job. And as you heard, I have told Personnel to do it."

Piers McBaine smiled. I wondered what he was thinking, but I smiled back and closed the meeting, "Well if that's all for the moment, then I guess we're done. But I did mean it, I do want to get over to Marston Abbey soon, perhaps you could sort something out with Carole as you leave, sometime next week say. And make sure that you and I have plenty of time for a lunch together, I want to learn more about all your work and what goes on." I smiled again, but so as they would know that the meeting was over.


They both put their coffee cups down and got up to leave, as they got to the door I called out, "Oh, Neil, if you've got a minute...."

He looked round at me, as Piers McBaine headed for Carole, I waited, Neil turned back into the room, "Close the door." I added.

As Neil approached my desk, I asked, "That was the reassurance I was meant to give?"

"Perfect, but I felt there was an undercurrent from you."

"You felt right then. I think Peter Davies is an immoral little shit. If I ever meet him on a dark night .....well. let's say that if this place had a choir then Peter Davies would end up well qualified to sing soprano."

Neil smiled, but looked worried. 

"I think he's a miserable human being. He stole my wife...."

"But I've met her. They seem happily married....."

"Maybe they do. But it started by a man spotting an attractive woman, and despite the fact that he knew she was married, despite the fact that he knew she was the mother of two young boys, he chatted her up. That was an immoral thing to do. The fact that she eventually succumbed, and that they even fell in love, is all subsequent to his immoral act. Until Peter Davies came along I had a wonderful marriage to a girl I adored, and I thought adored me......"

"I don't know how they met, but they seem happy enough now. Not that I know them at all well. But I do know that he is very important to this company. A lot of the good work of the research labs was under Peter."

"Look Neil. I called you back to help me, not to argue. I don't doubt that Peter Davies is good at his work. But I think that as one of God's creatures he is pretty far down the food chain. But precisely because I think he's a shit, is precisely why I won't risk my career, or expose this company to a multi-thousand pound lawsuit. He isn't worth it. I won't tread on a slug, if that slug is going to cost me that much."

"OK" Neil sounded hesitant.

"So, if you hear or see that I have done anything towards Peter Fucking Davies that could be open to a negative interpretation, then you are to run here as fast as you can and tell me, so that we can put the matter right. I'll be doing my best, but I am only human. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Good, Now go and catch up the good Doctor."

Within a minute Carole was in my office. "How were they?" I asked.

"Dr McBaine seemed quite happy. He booked you to go over to Marston Abbey at eleven o'clock on Wednesday of next week, by the way. Mr Davidson seemed more troubled. May I ask what you said to him?"

"I reiterated what I'd told Piers McBaine, only I also told him that I may have difficulty sticking to it, and it was his responsibility to keep me on the straight and narrow."

"You really are upset with Peter Davies?"

I looked at her, wondering how much I should tell her or could tell her. "Something to talk about over lunch, now what have you got for me?"

"Well you had an easy day yesterday, but the war starts today. Here are your messages, some you won't be interested in, others are simple and some you can deal with. But for the last few, I suggest you talk to me first."

"OK, I'll go through them." I took the sheets of papers she held in her hand. I glanced at them, and was surprised at the detail and accuracy with which she had annotated each message. This lady was good. 

I looked up, she was watching me "Anything else?"

"Yes. Mr Bauer was big on committees. You've inherited the chairmanship of thirty eight working committees inside the company, and he sat on a couple of external committees as well. And, of course, there's the Board, and the committees that it sets up."

"Well, I can tell you now, I have absolutely no intention of sitting on thirty eight committees. I doubt whether we actually need thirty eight committees, whether I sit on them or not. Can you draw up some details, exactly what they are, what their purpose is, how often they meet, who else sits on them, you know the sort of thing. Then we can go through them and sort out that mess."


Back to Bristol Ch. 02



"OK, I'll get onto it. You will see in your messages that the BBC wants to interview you for their local news programme. I guess it's the usual two minutes on a major local company being taken over, so they want to ask about changes. What do you want to do about that?"

"I'm OK with it, but get someone from PR up, and get all the HQ Press Releases that they've put out, then I can tow the party line and not put my foot in it."

As she turned to go, I added one more thing, "Can you get hold of whoever is in charge of these offices, and get them to come and see me. I need to get out of this stupid room."

As soon as the door closed behind her, I put the sheaf of messages down and sat back in my chair. What was I really going to do with Peter Davies working here? It was quite simple, I hated the man's guts. I didn't want him to just resign and go away and get another good job somewhere else. And if he did, he may move away from Bristol taking my boys with him. But I did want him to suffer, I wanted revenge. Revenge that made him suffer, but not my boys, certainly not me, and probably I didn't even want Molly to suffer (or not too much!). I'll just have to give it thought and come up with a plan. In the meantime, I'll do my best to avoid him, and leave him to be worried that his career has just come to a grinding halt.

I'd got about that far in my thinking when Carole was back with Neil Davidson again and a woman. I was introduced to Sheila Armstrong, who apparently looks after all office allocation, furniture and general housekeeping. I asked Carole to stay, as I thought this effects her as much as me:

"It's very simple, I want a smaller office. This just sends out the wrong message. It is neither my style nor ITI's. So, what can you do?

Sheila frowned, "Not a lot, unless you want to authorise a bigger budget. There is no easy answer, no spare office suite. The only thing we can do is get the walls and partitions changed to give this floor a completely different layout, and that will be money, time and disruption."

"Can't you just partition a bit of it off, punch a new door through, and we'd have another conference room?"

"And I'd dearly love that. We're desperately short of meeting rooms. But it won't work, there's no access, and anyway it would be on the Director's floor, it wouldn't solve the problem."

I looked around the three of them, they stared blankly back at me. Eventually, I had an idea. "Carole, didn't you tell me yesterday that the Boardroom was kept exclusively for directors?"

"Yes. That's the way Mr Bauer liked it."

"Well, he isn't here anymore. From right now, the Boardroom is just the best of our meeting rooms. It will remain that directors will have priority. After that, meetings with outside people come next, especially sales meetings. But then it's up for grabs by anyone. It is a company facility, not the special preserve of any one group. Someone will have to keep a diary, if that isn't done already."

Neil looked at Carole, and said "We can sort that out later."

I continued, "And as for this room, Sheila, can you get me a nice conference table for about six, maybe eight, with comfortable chairs for in here?"

"Yes, that'll be fairly simple. I think they still make this range of furniture , so it will match your desk and wall units."

"Good, and rearrange the chairs and sofas, I only need one conversation area, around one coffee table. Lose the rest somewhere." I smiled at her, "And just rearrange it to look nice, friendly and relaxed. It looks harsh and like a huge headmaster's study at the moment."

Carole smiled, "And all your committee meetings in here then?"

I smiled, "We'll see how many survive, but yes." I paused, "And one other thing. As far as I'm concerned, this room, like the Boardroom, is a company asset. If I'm not using it, then anyone is welcome to hold their meetings in here. But, Carole, can you make sure that my desk is clear of anything confidential before you let anyone in." 

I smiled at Sheila, "There! Problem solved, and maybe I've eased your meeting room problem a bit. And that's all far more my style. Oh, and a final thought, any chance of a slightly more modest desk chair, this one looks like the villain's chair from a James Bond movie."

"If you insist. But all I can do is buy another one. That one is under a year old, and I daren't reallocate it, no one can end up with the MD's chair."

I sighed, "OK, forget it."

They all filed out, and I did start going through my messages this time.

Soon, or so it seemed until I glanced at my watch, Carole was back "We've got a lunch date, remember?"

I grabbed my jacket, "Yes. Where are we going?"

"A new restaurant out at Chew Magna. Its got good write ups, but I haven't been there. But you said we could take our time."

"Well, I know where that is, we'll take my car." 

We drove along making small talk. I asked after her family and I did learn that Carole had been married for twenty three years, that she had two non-identical twin sons who were both at university, and that her husband, Rick, was a plumber. I also learnt that she came from a big family, with loads of uncles and aunts and cousins, and that they were still loosely in touch with each other. That took us all the way to the restaurant.

Once we were settled, I looked at her. "Well, how am I doing?"

"Good, so far. You've done nothing dramatic, but the change in style is being noticed."

"I guess Henri Bauer was a bit of a stickler for formality."

She smiled, "You could say that."

"Is it really true what you said yesterday, that he would show what he thought about people by how close to his desk he would let them get?"

"Yes, but what he didn't know was that plenty of people just used to laugh at it. He didn't hear it, but I could. When they went down the corridor, some of them would make comments like 'Yesterday it was ten feet, today it was six. I'll be on the board by this time next week..' But some took it seriously, and could be very hurt if they had to literally take a backward step."

We laughed together, which was good. But then she asked, "Has Peter Davies taken a backward step?"

"That's to the point!" I observed, but she just smiled, "And I honestly don't know, but don't tell anyone that." I paused to collect my thoughts, "I had a good marriage; I loved my wife a lot. I remember when I first met her, she was twenty and I was twenty three." I smiled, "I remember her twenty first birthday. It was a good day for jewellery was how she described it. I spent all my money and bought her a single strand cultured pearl necklace. I was deeply in love by then. In the evening, her parents wanted to take her out to dinner, but they did invite me, so I guess they recognised what we meant to each other. Anyway, when I arrived at her house I was told to wait in the sitting room: she came into the room wearing her new necklace, and she looked so beautiful. I asked her to marry me as we stood there, I just knew. And she said Yes without a moment's hesitation. We told her parents over the dinner."

"Were they pleased?"

"Yes, I think so. Her dad, Ralph, seemed very pleased. I think her mother, Susan, was pleased, but in the later years she seemed a bit less enthusiastic towards me. I never found out what I did wrong. Anyway, the problem we had was that I had hardly any money to buy her the sort of engagement ring that I thought she should have, I'd spent it all on the necklace. But I did buy her a simple, small diamond ring the next day. It was just less than she deserved."

"I doubt whether she minded. So what went wrong?"

"I wish I knew. We got married and bought a tiny flat. Then we moved into a tiny house, and Jamie came along. Then we moved again into a bit bigger house, and Ben came along. Then we moved into the house of our dreams, five bedrooms, three bathrooms, it was just what we wanted to bring the boys up in, and then she met Peter Davies. She fell in love with him, and I was out of it. I was back living in a tiny flat, and she was back to living in a tiny house that he'd bought."

"There's more to it than that."

"Oh. Yes. Lots more. I wish I knew some of it. But that's the gist of it from my side." I wondered whether to give Carole my real rant and rave about what I thought of a man that muscled in on my marriage, but decided that it would be unfair to her. So, instead I asked what she thought of how important Peter Davies was to the Company.

Just then our food was served, so there was a lull in the conversation. But while that was going on, I noticed Carole was obviously choosing her reply carefully.

Once the waiter had withdrawn, we took our first mouthfuls, and then I looked at her and waited.

"I don't know how important Peter Davies is. I assume he's very good at his job, he's been promoted several times whilst I've been in a position to know." She paused and I waited, "There is a huge culture clash between Marston Abbey and the Factory. Out at the Abbey they are academic, they're scientists and researchers, living in their own little world. It's not part of what some refer to as real life in the rest of the Company."

"Don't tell me, that was one of Bauer's committees to improve that liaison?"

"Yes it was. Mr Bauer believed that Research was the future for the Company. He was very close to Dr McBaine, and quite close to Peter Davies. They won't like it if there is a rift between them and upper Management, but some others might like to drive the wedge in."

"I don't have a problem with Piers McBaine. In fact, I rather liked him. He struck me as rather nice."

"Well Peter Davies is his protégé, and he'll be protective, so he might not like you so much."

"So, who else is not going to like me very much?"

"On the Board? I don't think you'll have any trouble with Neil Davidson. John Wheeler and Bill Elswood from Sales and Client Service already love you, because you'll be good with the clients, and doing presentations and things. Mr Bauer was more of an acquired taste, and some customers never acquired it. Most of them are fairly neutral at the moment. Your problem will be Dennis Murrell."

"Production."

"And been here man and boy for too many years. No one knows how it should be run better than Dennis. And it's quite simple, it should be run as it was in 1960 when Walter Franks himself was still in charge."

"I got some bad vibes off him yesterday. Thanks for the warning. Why isn't Piers McBaine on the Board?"

"I don't know, I guess because of the culture problem. Same's true for the IT guys, they have a different culture as well. Mind you Tim Johnson is probably a bit young."

"And that's another angle. It's all very chauvinistic and ... let's say mature."

She laughed, "It is a bit. But if you're going to try and change that, well won't we have fun!"

For a while we talked small talk, mainly about the restaurant and the food. But then Carole played a blinder: "Is Helene going to come and join you?"

I stared at her, she smiled sweetly; she knew exactly what she'd asked.

"No, is the simple answer to that." I paused, then I sighed and accepted she wanted a longer answer. "Molly, my wife, was the great love of my life. OK I lost her, there was nothing I could do about that, and it was all a long time ago anyway. But I doubt whether I'll get married again. It wouldn't be fair on either of us, and I now know it's bloody painful when it ends. So, no, I decided that it wasn't fair on Helene to ask her to join me in the UK. Now, satisfy my curiosity, how did you know about her?"

Carole totally ignored my question, "If she loved you, and wanted to come with you, wasn't that her decision?"

"She was getting close to wanting to marry me. And she deserves a happy marriage and children and to be in a loving relationship for ever and ever. I couldn't offer her that."

"So, you'll never marry again?"

"I doubt it very much. Oh, I'm not saying I won't have meaningful and loving relationships with some ladies in the future years. Maybe, one day some girl will get me to the altar again. But, I doubt it."

"That's sad. And before I answer your question, I've got one for you?" I was becoming aware that Carole was in charge of this conversation. She was a strong woman, but somewhere, somehow, I felt we were building a good relationship, so I was fairly relaxed.

"Which is?"

"Your marriage fell apart when you were at Jamesons, right?"

"Yes. Why?"

"That explains something." Now it was her turn to sigh and decide to explain herself, "When we heard that it was going to be you, last Thursday, well naturally I was very interested in who you were, what sort of person you were. Well, I had plenty of excuses to phone ITI London Office. And they gave you a glowing reference. Actually the girl I was talking to said that if she was ever transferred to a subsidiary company, then she hoped it would be the one where you are. She was sure that you ran a happy team."

I smiled, "You didn't get her phone number by any chance?"

Carole returned my smile, "No. But I did learn that you were previously at NDF and Jamesons. Well, I phoned NDF first, before they all went home with the time difference and all that. And they too gave you a glowing reference, in fact they were sorry to lose you. And that's where I learnt about Helene. But then I phoned Jamesons, it was easy to phone them, they're only just around the corner."

"Not quite true, but I know what you mean."

"Anyway, they said you started out as sort of pleasantly OK, no more and no less. But then you turned into a very strong boss, and were quite heavy with them. They really didn't like you. It had me worried. Now I understand why you were like that."

"You are very shrewd. Well done."

We'd finished eating, and the waiter came to clear the table. I opted just for coffee, but Carole couldn't resist the strawberry mousse from the trolley. 

Carole had been quiet and thoughtful, digesting what she'd learnt. I watched her, her eyes had softened, and she looked straight at me, "You must have loved her very much." She paused, "You don't strike me as the sort of man to bear grudges. But I suspect that if you do make an exception in Peter Davies's case, then he'd better watch out."

"I'll stay inside Company rules." I observed wryly, and hoping to close this bit of the conversation.

But Carole was not going to be dissuaded from giving me her thoughts, "I'm sure you will. And please don't hurt yourself either. Convince yourself that it is all too long ago, and he isn't worth it. Please."

I decided to close the subject, "Well he's got a pretty powerful hand, if only he knew it. He houses, and is head of the household where my two sons live. And getting to know them again and becoming part of their lives is my highest priority."

"You aren't in their lives already? Oh, how could you? Sons need their father. You said their names were Jamie and Ben, how old are they? If you've dropped out, then you have really failed. You should be ashamed of yourself."

"Hold on a mo'. I'm not quite as bad as it seems. They're Jamie who's eight, and Ben who's seven. And as far as my parental obligations go, well, first I have never missed a single month's maintenance, and I've put it up as I've earned more. Nor have I ever missed a Christmas or birthday present. And I've always taken them on two weeks holiday every year, sometimes more often. And they've been great times. It's just the regular, once a week trips to the zoo and a McDonald's bit that I've missed."

Carole softened slightly, "Well, you were in Holland..."

"And before that I was on the international circuit with ITI. In eighteen months I only got four full weekends in the UK. How could I get down to Bristol as I should have? And before that, well I have less of an excuse. I was at Jamesons, but the divorce had only just happened, it was all very raw. I did try to be quite regular, but you have no idea how humiliating it is to wait outside your wife's new husband's house to have your own children sent out to you. I really hated it. After a few months I got my solicitor to arrange that I'd collect and deliver from Molly's parent's house. But that wasn't much better, somehow they seemed to think that the situation was all my fault. Well I suppose they couldn't afford to blame their daughter and new son." I shrugged my shoulders at my own weak defence.

"So what are you going to do now?"

"Well, I guess I've got to announce that I'm back, and ask nicely if I could borrow my own sons for a few hours at the weekend."

Carole frowned, "It won't be easy. I guess they've got used to having been deserted by their father. They could well react in all sorts of ways to you coming back."

"Do you think so? I think we get on quite well, or we do when I take them on holiday. We've been down to Australia twice to see my Mum, and to Euro-Disney, and to one of those camps-in-the-forest holiday centres. There wasn't a problem then."

"Well, you should start by talking to your ex. She's the one who'll have to deal with any fall-out. Have you talked to her yet?"

"No, not yet. Give me a chance, this is only my second day."

"Well phone her this evening."

"Yes M'am." I smiled. I knew I had to do it, it was just going to be an awkward conversation that I wasn't looking forward to.

Carole picked up on something, "Your Mother lives in Australia. Have you got any family in Bristol?"

This was a lot easier topic, "No. I was Bristol born and bred. But my father was killed when I was three, and my brother Brian was five. I hardly remember him. He worked on the railways, and got crushed by a rolling wagon. Mum brought us up single handed. We weren't poor, she had some compensation and a pension for Dad, but we weren't rich either. But I went to the local school, as did my brother."

"You've come a long way."

"Thanks, but Brian is the one with brains. He went to Cambridge, and now lectures at Newcastle University, where he married another lecturer. I reckon he'll be a professor soon. Anyway, I went to London University, and then came back to Bristol to work. But, in my absence, someone had stolen my Mum's heart."

"Aah.. there's hope for us all."

"I reckon when she packed me off to University she felt her job was done, and relaxed for the first time in twenty years. And Len, that's her new husband, was visiting Bristol. He was a Bristolian as well, but when he got married to his first wife they emigrated to Australia, to Melbourne. Then his first wife died, and later, after a couple of years of grieving, Len was made redundant. But he now had enough money to decide to take his pension early. And he decided to have an open ended holiday in Bristol, looking up his old haunts. And he met Mum, and they fell in love."

"And had to decide where to live?"

"Exactly. Well, as I pointed out to Mum, Brian was in Newcastle, I was back in Bristol, but for how long? Brian had one baby on the way, I wasn't even married then. On the other hand, Len had two daughters and three grandchildren even then, I think it's five now, all in Melbourne. It was obvious what they should do. But they come back fairly regularly, for my wedding, for mine and Brian's children's christenings. They've been back less often in recent years, but I've taken the boys down to see them twice."

"Do you like Len?"

"Very much. He's a really nice guy. He's never tried to be a step-dad, I was too old for that anyway. But we get on very well, he's easy to talk to. And he and Mum are very settled and happy."

"As I said, there's hope for us all."

"Not if we don't get back there isn't. I have the excitement of a whole afternoon with Accounts. Don't you just envy my exciting life? Where is it by the way?"

"In the Boardroom. Those sort of meetings are usually held there. By the way, they know you are an accountant by training, they are a bit nervous."




Back to Bristol Ch. 02



"You mean that the usual quality wool for pulling over the MD's eyes won't work, and they're going to have to use the good stuff? Good. But tell them it's in my room. We might as well get use out of all those sofas and chairs."

And a very boring, but necessary afternoon was spent with the Accounts Department. By the end of it I was aware of so many holes in their work and systems I really was fairly disappointed. 

Once they'd left, Carole came in with her usual sheaf of notes.

I got in first, "A girl called Myra Hepsted is meant to be joining us from ITI London....."

"I've met her, she's ever so nice."

"Well, she's on holiday this week. And I know she's got some things to sort out in London, and they expect there on Monday.  But can you get onto them. I expect her here as soon as possible. There's no rush, anytime up to nine fifteen on Tuesday will do."

She smiled. "I've spoken to the BBC, and they're coming in some time tomorrow morning to interview you. And you've started something downstairs in PR. Now they want to know if you can give an in-depth interview and profile for the Evening Post, on their business pages?"

"I guess there's no reason why not. But, can it be next week? I don't want my public getting tired of me with over-exposure."

Now Carole was laughing, "I hate to tell you, but you don't have a public."

"Fame is so ephemeral, so transitory." I proclaimed forlornly, "I guess I'll just have to make do with wine, women and song." I smiled.

"And sons. Phone your ex this evening!" I was told firmly.



Back to Bristol Ch. 03



I got home just in time to watch the six thirty local news. I wanted to know what I was letting myself in for. I watched for the whole half hour, but didn't learn a lot, there was only one interview and that was with an innocent victim recorded on the Court steps having won her case. 

I thought of phoning Molly about the boys, but I wasn't sure what to say, or what I would do if Peter answered. I knew I was letting my imagination get the better of me, and I felt guilty that I wasn't getting on with it for the boys' sake.

I poured myself a stiff whisky, but hardly took a sip before I picked up the phone. I had to look up their number in my diary, but I dialled it.

It rang and rang. Then an answerphone switched in, and I put my phone down. This was not the time to leave messages on answering machines. Instead I finished my whisky, and changed into some easier clothes and went out to find myself something to eat. By the time I got back I decided it was too late to make important phone calls, disturbing Molly's evening, but I knew that I was really just making excuses for myself.

As I walked in the next morning Carole greeted me with "Well, did you phone her?"

I felt guilty, "You know, yesterday I thought we were on track for a really good relationship. I'm beginning to revise my thinking...." And I smiled, I guess somewhat sheepishly.

"Well, do it today. For Jamie and Ben's sake."

I admired Carole's memory and sentiment. Their names were mentioned in passing yesterday, and they were real people to her today.

She handed me a sheaf of messages, and a couple of files. "Some things to do, and some things to read." 

"Gee, thanks. I've got the BBC sometime this morning. I'll go down to PR and get myself briefed. By the way, I really ought to go down to Franks Engineering in Exeter, Stephen .... Stephen ...." I searched my memory for the General Manager's name.

"Stephen Hobbs." Carole reminded me. "When do you want to go?"

"The first free day I've got I guess, there's no reason why not. I suggest I come in here first thing, then go down there mid-morning and spend the rest of the day with them."

She looked in the diary, "You're talking about Monday. I'll give Stephen a call. But I warn you, Piers McBaine won't like it."

"What's it got to do with him?"

"You visiting Exeter before you visit the Abbey. I told you, he's a bit prickly about their status."

"Well, it's his hard luck. He could have picked Monday in my diary if he'd wanted. I don't do preferential treatment, or not yet anyway."

"He didn't want Monday because he knows that Peter Davies will be out of the office on Wednesday."

"Good for Peter Davies." I answered, and went off to PR No one controls my diary except me, and certainly not Peter Fucking Davies!

The rest of the day went quite well. After my interview, which they thought would be used that night, I went to lunch in the Cafeteria with a bunch from PR and Marketing. They were a talkative lot, and I began to really understand what I already suspected, that Henri Bauer ran a very stratified culture. He seemed to never, not even on Company social occasions, let alone in the normal course of work, have anything to do with junior staff. Whether that was just the way he worked, or whether he felt that he was superior in some way, I didn't know, but it needed putting right. I asked Carole to try and work out how I could take a random set of junior staff to lunch in the Buffet Dining Room once every couple of weeks.

I got home just in time to watch the local evening news. I wish I hadn't. Seeing oneself on television is embarrassing, even when there's no one else in the room. Afterwards, I took a shower just to relax myself. Then I realised I was likely to be late for Keith at the Golf Club. I was about to excuse myself from phoning Molly on the grounds that it would make me late, when I thought what Carole would say in the morning. I dialled the number.

Thank Goodness, it was her and not him that answered.

"Hello Molly, it's me, Chris."

I could feel a wave of coolness or at least hesitations come down the line. "I knew you were back in town. I was waiting for you to phone. But you could have done it before the boys saw you on the telly. They've just learnt that their father is back in Bristol from the television."

"Oh God! I'm sorry. Are they upset?"

Her voice became warmer, "No, they're thrilled. Their Dad was on the telly. I think they only saw the last couple of minutes, I guess one of them was flicking through the channels, probably looking for cartoons, and they caught you."

"I'd like to see you, to arrange that I can start seeing them on a regular basis."

"Well, I'm not going to try and stop you. When do you want to make it?"

"Well I'm running late now, but I want to talk to you about me seeing them quite often and quite regularly. Please."

"Chris, I've already said I won't stop you."

"Thank you. But I do think we ought to co-ordinate things. Would you like me to buy you dinner tomorrow night, if you're allowed out by yourself?"

"He's my husband."

"I'm well aware of that. But our children are ours, not his. Let's not argue. How about tomorrow evening?"

"OK. Where will you be? I'll come over after we've eaten and I've put the boys to bed. Say nine o'clock?"

"OK. My flat, or somewhere else?"

"Your flat will do."

So, I gave her my address and left it there, and set off for the Golf Club. All the way there I thought about how even talking to her made my blood boil, after four years the scars were still red raw. But I was also aware of how relieved I felt that I'd made the call, and how apprehensive I felt about tomorrow evening.

I found Keith in the bar. "Hi, Chris. What are you drinking?"

"I'm driving."

Keith looked untroubled, "So am I. But I have a rule of only one pint if I'm driving, and only two if I eat a good meal. I think that keeps me inside the law. This is a two pint night."

"I'm jealous of those people who have the discipline to keep to a strict no alcohol rule when driving." But then I smiled, "But you've convinced me, make it a pint, please."

Once we had our drinks and Keith had asked how my first three days had been, and I'd asked how his last week at Cheals was going, I looked at him, "So?"

He smiled, "Would it surprise you to know that your name got mentioned when I spoke to Anne the other night?"

"You mean you had a good gossip."

"Well what else would you expect an old married couple to talk about but other people?"

"And?" I tried moving the conversation on from sparring to something that might be vague progress.

Suddenly Keith went serious, "Anne told me that she met Molly by accident about three months after Daniel died. I guess she told me at the time, but I think things went in one ear and out the other at that time."

"That would be about the time she got remarried."

"Yes, Anne thought she was just back from honeymoon. Anne had just started work, and she'd been sent to the hospital for some reason, and she bumped into Molly in a corridor. They went for a coffee together."

I'd just took a long draught of my beer, and as I put it down, "I repeat, and?"

"Well first, Anne remembers that she was surprised at the time at how quiet Molly was. She was always a bouncy person, but she was quiet. Anne used the word 'dull' which for a girl just back from honeymoon was odd."

"There could be hundred and one explanations. She was tired; starting new married life, a new relationship, wouldn't necessarily be easy; or she was going down with a cold. In the light of the fact that they are now approaching their fourth wedding anniversary, I can't see anything significant in that."

"No. Well, I thought I'd mention it. But the more important thing that Anne remembers is that Molly was insistent, quite determined on this point, that you did nothing wrong. You did not let her down in anyway. I know you worry about it, so I thought it was important to let you know."

"That's very kind of you, and I guess it was sweet of Molly. But it's illogical, relationships don't fall apart that suddenly and that disastrously without there being some fault on both sides. I can't believe that I didn't miss something. But I guess Molly was trying to be kind, she knew you and I were friends. I guess she didn't want you to think badly of me. Molly was always kind and thoughtful to other people, she would always want people to think the best of others."

"Well, I can only tell you what Anne told me...." Keith drank some of his pint. "Oh, and the only other thing Anne remembers is that Molly said that she wasn't going to make the mistake she made in her first marriage in the new one. She was determined that this one was forever, she'd committed herself to it, and she would see it through."

"Isn't that the way marriage is meant to be? I thought it was. But, I guess it's good to hear that she's going to stick to this one. Everything tells me that they do love each other a lot."

"Well drink up, and let's go and find those steaks." He said, finishing his own pint.

We made small talk until the steaks and our second pints were delivered, when Keith asked, "So how are you finding W R Franks?"

"ITI-Franks if you please. But it's interesting, fun in parts. Some nice people. But the bit that's the most fun..... Who do you think is Deputy Head of Research?"

"I haven't the faintest .... " Keith looked up and saw my smiling, maybe smirking, face. Suddenly he smiled, "He isn't ... is he? Oh, how interesting."

"It was a complete surprise. I'm not really sure what to do about it. I honestly don't think I want to do business with him, but I can't sack him."

"Well don't do anything stupid. Maybe he's a nice guy. I guess he is really, I can't imagine Molly marrying someone who wasn't. Maybe you can build a decent relationship, you have got something in common after all."

"I'll go along with your advice that I shouldn't do anything stupid. And I won't. But I don't think we can be friends. I know him to be an immoral little shit, the sort of man who chats up married women, he had no conscience about breaking up other peoples' marriages, about making children live in broken homes. I'd rather not have that sort of guy as a friend."

"Does he realise that you are who you are."

"Yes, it was him going to his boss that brought it to light."

"So, if he's worried then he must have a guilty conscience."

I thought about that, "Possibly. Equally he may just think that I'm bearing a grudge, which I am. I might think I've good reason, but he may not, but he might still recognise the possibility."

Keith smiled, "Can't you just have him done over whilst you're sitting in a Board Meeting, with the perfect alibi? Some good, honest violence. Healthy and to the point."

I laughed, "I should have done that four years ago. Surely, waiting four years should at least lend a certain sophistication to the act."

"So, what are you going to do?"

"I guess I'll play it by ear. But I might like to have some fun, and make him suffer a little bit. Make him question his behaviour, as I play it by ear."

"Well, as I said, don't risk your career on a bit of silly revenge. That's beneath you, you're better than that."

After that we changed subject and chatted about Keith and Anne's new life in San Diego. As neither of us could drink, and Keith had plenty to do at home, once we'd finished our meal, we headed to our homes. But I did remind him that I would like to take him and Anne to dinner one evening next week.

Thursday in the office went well, but nothing surprising. The new sign went up on the building, ITI-Franks Ltd, beside a big ITI logo. Of course first thing Carole asked was "Did you phone her?" and when I said "Yes", she just smiled and said "Good."

I went shopping on my way home, I thought I ought to have a full range of drinks and juice, and some nibbles. I got some nice olives, personally I can't stand olives but I know Molly loves them. This meeting was making me nervous, I wasn't quite sure what was expected. Molly used to drink white wine in the evening, but she may have changed her tastes in drink like she did in her men.

When I got in I had a microwaved lasagne, which was all it promised to be - average! Then I went to have a shower and change - into my most elegant, expensive, casual clothes. I checked that there was plenty of ice, I put some olives and some peanuts out on the coffee table, and I looked at my watch, it was still only eight o'clock.

I tried reading some business papers. For a while I didn't do badly, my business discipline and love of my job switched in. But by quarter to nine my nerves switched back in. I couldn't sit still and I paced the room. I found myself watching the occasional car as it cruised pass, waiting to see if this was her. There were a couple of vacant parking spaces on the opposite side of the road from my flat. I was watching the roof of a silver VW Golf as it parked opposite, what made me take more interest was that no one got out. And then the driver's door opened, and it was Molly. I gulped, here we go then!

I waited until she pressed the buzzer on the entry phone. "Hello, Chris, it's Molly."

"Come on up." And I pressed the release button. I went and waited by my open front door, watching the lift. And then it was there and the doors were opening. For the first time in nearly four years I met my ex-wife.

I smiled, totally naturally, I could never help myself from smiling when I saw Molly. "Hi! Come on in. Let me take your coat."

She smiled and walked passed me into my lobby. I stood behind her and she shrugged off her coat. She turned and offered her cheek for a kiss. I looked at her face, she looked older and something else was missing from her eyes, I wasn't sure what. I kissed her cheek, and smelled her perfume. It was a smell that instantly took me back to a different, happier time. I knew it was a perfume that she wore because I loved it, but I could no longer remember what it was, the memory plays funny tricks.

"Do go in." I hung her coat on one of a set of wall hooks. "Would you like a drink?"

"Yes, please. A glass of white wine, if you have it?"

"I guessed that's what you would want. I'll join you. Do go in and sit down, I'll get us the drinks."

By the time I had poured the drinks and joined her in the living room, she was sitting on the sofa and looking around. I put her drink on the table in front of her.

She smiled as she watched me, "Your looking good, Chris, very tanned and fit."

"That's what a couple of weeks in South Africa does for you in January. I can recommend it."

"Just sunbathing?"

"Mainly, but some good food and wine, and a few days in a game park."

"Lucky you."

"Well, we get four weeks off between assignments to sort ourselves out, to move and get organised. Well I was coming back to London, but not necessarily permanently, so I just found a furnished flat in Fulham, and then I could spend three weeks on holiday, two of them in South Africa."

"With Ellen?" She was casual and she smiled, but there was an edge to her voice.

How dare she? She's hardly through the door and she's asking me about my private life. 

"Her name is Helene, and Yes, with her." I answered, I hoped curtly enough to close this bit of the conversation.

But she pressed on, "Has she come over with you?" 

"She's in Apeldoorn at the moment." I answer with the minimal information.

"The boys said she is very beautiful, and they liked her a lot when you took them to Euro-Disney."

I smiled, "She is very beautiful, or I think so. But I suspect the boys affection was probably more motivated by someone taking them to Euro-Disney."

She smiled, at least with her mouth, but she seemed to get the message on a closed subject.

There was a pause, then she looked around the room, "This is very smart. Is it yours?"

"No. It's rented for me by the Company. It was this or a hotel. I chose this."

"So you're not here for long then?"

"Oh yes I am. My guess would be for five years, assuming nothing else comes up. I did two years at Jamesons, nearly two years in International Consultancy, and that was only cut short because I created merry hell, and wanted to get out. Then two years over in Holland. And normally, when you've worked your apprenticeship like that, they start lengthening your stay. My guess is that I've got about five years. But who knows, things change." I smiled half-heartedly.

"You know Peter works for Franks?"

"Yes, his boss came to see me about it."

"Piers McBaine? Piers and Jeanette are good friends to Peter and myself. Mainly it's Piers and Peter, but I have a very good relationship with Jeanette as well."

I nodded, I wasn't surprised.

She went on: "Peter is very worried about you being there....."

"Why?"

"He's scared that you might make life difficult for him. He is good, Piers thinks the world of him, and his work is very important. And there's nowhere else that he could really go and do it...." She looked at me pleadingly.

"I've already told Dr McBaine that he will have the full support of the ITI personnel policy. We are an equal opportunity employer, whatever your race, colour, creed, sexual orientation.... It even covers wife stealers." I smiled.

She rose to the bait, "You shouldn't think of him that way. He's a very nice person. And he's good at his job. And he loves me very much." She looked up into my eyes, I felt she was looking for something, I wondered what.

"Well, whatever..... Let's not argue."

There was a pause, a long pause, when we both sipped our wine. Then the olives caught her eye, she took one, "That was kind," she paused, and her voice was almost breaking when she added, "You were always so thoughtful....."

I determinedly changed the subject to the purpose of the meeting, "I was hoping to see the boys at the weekend."

"Of course, they'll be with Ralph and Susan." I remembered that Molly always called her parents by their Christian names, they had told her to do it on her twenty first birthday, when we got engaged, and they said she was now her own woman now and should talk to them as adults.

"You going away?"

"No," she paused to choose her words, "Maybe you can help with this: the boys, both of them, sort of gang up on Peter. They know exactly which buttons to press to put him into a terrible rage of frustration, because he has no defence against them. He usually ends up going out for a run to get over it and to put a pause on things. I've tried so hard to stop them doing it, but they just see it as sport. And, of course, he rises to it every time. He knows they're doing it, but he can't ride it and ignore it. So to keep the peace, the boys tend to stay with Ralph and Susan at the weekends. It's just a phase they're going through, so it's just until they grow out of it. They are very happy there, it's not like sending them away as a punishment or that I'm rejecting them. I'm just stuck in the middle of a war. Perhaps you will be able to influence them. Please, Chris, it isn't good for them either."

I was concerned, "It doesn't sound the loving stable family we always promised them."

She instantly became upset, tears were obviously imminent, "I'm doing my best! He tries so hard, but the boys make it impossible. It isn't easy for him, he loves me so much, but they're not his...." She sipped her wine to calm herself.

I thought for a moment, "Well, I guess it leads me to why I asked to meet. I don't know how the boys will take to me wanting to be back in their lives on a regular basis. I doubt whether I've got the sort of relationship with them at the moment where I can influence their attitude to their step-father. I certainly don't deserve to be that well thought of."

She dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief, and then she looked at me, "I know it's been difficult for you. You were so hurt by what happened, and your job...... but I've tried to make sure they think about you a lot."




Back to Bristol Ch. 03



"Well, thanks for that. I really would like to be part of their lives. I'd like to see them every weekend, unless I have to go away, of course. And I'll take them on holiday again, two weeks somewhere, I don't know where yet."

She smiled, "They love their holidays with you!" She almost sounded wistful before she remembered herself, "So when do you want them, and what are you going to do?"

"I haven't really thought about what to do. I thought I might bring them back here for a bit, to see where their Dad was actually living. But beyond that, I don't know. But I thought of Sunday, I'll pick them up at about ten say, and bring them back around six. How does that sound?" 

"A long time for all of you for the first time. If I were you, I'd volunteer for less." She smiled.

"Yes, perhaps you're right. How about I collect them at about eleven, bring them back here to let them see the place. Then I'll take them out to lunch, and bring them back to Ralph and Susan's mid-afternoon?"

"That sounds more manageable."

"Do you think there's going to be a problem with them? If my seeing them upsets them in any way, then I'll drop out. My feelings aren't important compared to what's good for them."

Suddenly, again tears were imminent, "No, don't say that! I never wanted to separate you and them. They need their father. Please, what I did caused enough damage to our family, don't make it worse."

I just sipped my wine. I didn't know what to say, and I suspected that if I opened my mouth, my emotions would fall out.

Eventually, she spoke, "I just want to say ......" Her voice was thick with emotion, and I could guess what was coming. 

"Don't, Molly. Just don't let's go there. We are where we are. There's no point in having regrets about the way things fell out."

I paused and looked at her, I just couldn't read what was in her eyes, I felt it was that she wanted something from me, but I had nothing to give, "I just wish that one day you'll be able to tell me what I did wrong." Then I gave her a false, bright smile, "So that I can get it right next time. You could save some other poor girl a lot of heartache."

Her voice was still breaking, but she smiled, "She'll be very lucky..... so very lucky." She took her handkerchief and blew her nose. Then she smiled again, and looked brighter.

I smiled at her, reassuringly, "That's better. We'll get used to it. We should try to be friends for the boys' sake." 

She smiled weakly, but seemed to relax, as if something was resolved in her mind, "Yes, let's work on getting the boys their father back. That's what's important now." She sipped her wine, but was watching me.

I sipped my wine and watched her as she watched me. I noticed she was wearing a very attractive gold necklace. I guess he had given her that. Molly was the sort of girl that men buy jewellery for. But I noticed she still wasn't wearing earrings, like me he hadn't convinced her to get her ears pierced. I'd wanted her to, so that I could buy her some good earrings, but Molly has a classic needle phobia, and no way was she going to volunteer for someone to stick things through her flesh.

She was the first to speak, "You seem less stressed by your work than you were at Jamesons. I know you were very stressed then."

I smiled, "Well, I've hardly started at Franks. I haven't been there long enough to know what to be stressed about. But you're right, I've changed my management style, and it's a lot easier on everyone." Then a thought struck me. "Was that it, that I forgot you with my troubles with Jamesons? I did try to keep things in proportion."

"Oh! No, it wasn't you at Jamesons. No, it was my fault, all my fault." Again tears looked imminent, she sniffed hard and stared at me.

I looked at her hopefully, I just needed her to explain. But she just said, "I best be going."

"Yes, you must get back to your husband. He'll be worried about you." And I went to get her coat. 

I held it for her, and then opened the front door. She pressed herself against me, maybe I little harder than was necessary for me to peck the proffered cheek. But maybe that was my imagination. I got a full whiff of that damned perfume.

I shut the door behind her, and a wave of emotion hit me. Remnants of the hurt and anger of four years ago. Remembrance of what we used to have, what we lost. I poured myself another glass of wine, muttering "John, 11:35" under my breath, and strolled to the window. 

For a moment I thought about Helene. I had really loved her, and I had been tempted to marry her before I realised what a lousy husband I would make. But, even with a love that came so close, it was nothing compared to the emotion that Molly could stir up in me. Helene didn't know what a lucky escape she had.

As I looked out of the window I saw her getting into her car. But she didn't pull away. I just watched. It just sat there, she didn't even put the lights on. I wonder if she had an electrical fault, I wondered if I should go down. But maybe she's just phoning home, checking in with him. He would be worried about his wife off to see the father of her children, her first husband. Yes that must be it. If it was that then it was a long conversation, she's been sitting there for at least ten minutes. I stood and watched, not knowing what to do. I'd look a fool if I went down and she was just on the phone. Then her lights came on. A couple of minutes later she started to move and pulled away.

As expected, the next morning Carole asked, "How was it?"

I smiled, "Mixed. Sorting out the children was the easy bit."

On the Friday evening, after work, I did go round to Keith's leaving do at the Lord Raglan. But I didn't know that many people, and I didn't know the jokes, and finally the senior partner started making overtures about the help I would need at Franks. So I bought Keith a drink and left.

So there I was, eleven o'clock on Sunday morning knocking at my exs front door. Susan answered it. "Oh, its you!"

"Yes, Susan, are the boys ready for me?"

"Yes, they're ready." She paused and looked at me with accusing eyes, "Why have you come back? You only upset Molly and Peter, and now I hear you're his boss. You leave him alone, he loves Molly so much, and it's his job that their life depends on."

"And it's nice to see you again, Susan!" I was beginning to get very annoyed. So you're babysitting the boys, that gives you no right... but I didn't say it.

I saw Ralph doing something on the other side of the front garden. He was watching, but didn't come over. A man of few words is Ralph.

Just then Jamie came out, quickly followed by Ben. I crouched down to greet them, but they walked straight passed me, "Is that your car, Dad?" 

"Yes. You'll have to squeeze yourselves into the back and strap yourselves in."

"Come on Ben, Dad's got a XK. Why didn't you get the XKR, that would have been better?"

Well, there's not a lot wrong with them, I thought. Actually the day went better than I feared. They weren't over the top in being pleased to see me, but they weren't sullen or withdrawn as I'd feared. They liked the lunch, partly because I allowed them to choose off the adult menu and didn't insist on the children's menu. It wasted a lot of food, but they liked being treated like grown ups. 

When I got them back to Susan and Ralph's, it was Molly who opened the door, which surprised me.. 

She smiled, "I thought I'd come round for when they came back, just in case."

"Well there were no problems. They've been as good as gold."

"Good. Why not come in for a cup of tea?"

With a high probability of Peter Davies being in there, no thank you! "I won't thanks, I've got some business stuff that I must read before tomorrow. The boys will tell you all about what we did."

She stepped towards me, "Ralph said that Susan was a bit rude to you when you collected the boys. I'm sorry about that. She shouldn't have."

"Well she never liked me. That was another thing I got wrong." I paused and we looked at each other. I had the distinct feeling that something was being left unsaid, but I didn't know what or how to coax it out of her, "Look, how about we do exactly the same next Sunday, after that I can up the hours a bit for the subsequent weeks, as they get used to me."

"That sounds OK. I'll tell them."

"Well I'm off then." And I turned and walked back to my car.

On Monday it seemed that I was hardly in the office before I was out again, driving down to Exeter to meet Stephen Hobbs and learn about ITI-Franks Engineering Ltd, or that's what it would be called very soon. What I found was a very friendly, very professional specialist engineering company, building prototypes for the Laboratories, and solving engineering problems on special sales. It was a good, sound little company that TDF had brought into the Group when they realised that they were the biggest customer to a company that was up for sale as the two brothers who owned it wanted to retire. It seems that they then left it as a self-contained little unit, an hour down the road in Exeter rather than merging it fully into the Bristol operation. I also found out that it was a lot bigger and employed far more staff than I imagined. And it had a lot of underused capacity. But, I liked Stephen Hobbs and his colleagues, and they made me feel welcome. I left with some questions in my mind, but no great concerns.

Now, on Tuesday I arrived at my office to find a very attractive girl sitting on the couch in Carole's office, obviously waiting for me. I looked questioningly at Carole.

"I've left all your messages on your desk, and the first five summaries of Mr Bauer's Committees. I don't think you've met Miss Hepsted, who's waiting for you."

I turned, and Myra Hepsted stood up and shook my hand. She was blonde with intelligent grey-green eyes. About 5'8" with 36B's, and I would guess a bit under thirty years old. Overall, a very attractive package. 

"Welcome, Myra, I'm Chris, Chris Bennett. I'm so glad you're here. You've got so much to do, and so little time to do it in. Come on in." I turned to Carole, "Coffee, please."

I guided her to a sofa, and I sat in a rather comfortable chair. I had a nice view of her legs, crossed at the ankles and tucked into the sofa. "I guess you know why you're here?"

"To be the hated one that's going to change all the accounting procedures?"

I smiled, "Only to start. Once Accounts really hate you, I will want you to move on, so that a couple of other areas get a chance to hate you as well."

Now she smiled, and a very nice smile it was, "Anyone in particular?"

"The three I've spotted to date are," I started ticking them off against my fingers, "Exeter: It seems a nice self-contained unit. I'd like to know that the in-house charging structure is on commercial terms. If so, we'll have to decide, do we keep them or sell them off. Production: I want a thorough review that we are doing it effectively. Should we be in production at all, or just contracting with the Far East say, or should we be an assembly point, using sub-contract production and some of Exeter's specialist abilities. And finally, the real imponderable one, the Laboratories, how much should we be spending on research, and are we getting value for money on what we do spend."

Again she smiled, and I was pleased that she was undaunted. "Well I can see I'll have my work cut out."

"In a minute I'll take you down to Accounts and introduce you, although I guess you know them all down there from the takeover?"

"Yes, and I don't think they're looking forward to me."

"Why not?"

"Most of them, including Trevor Gale the Director, have all been here for years. They spent a lot of effort changing to TDF's methodologies only a few years ago. Now I'm going to come along with the ITI systems and standards. Would you like it if you were them?"

"Not much. But that's life these days. But the change is necessary, and it'll keep a large part of HQ off our backs if they see us getting on with it. And it'll be nice to have some numbers we can rely on." I smiled reassuringly, "You'll be part of the Accounts Department, but you will have a direct line to me. OK?"

"Sure." She smiled, she was one confidant lady.

"I know you've still got some things to do back at HQ, The Old Man told me. How much of your time can you give us?"

"My best guess is that I'll have to be in London for about one day a week for the next month. After that I should be free. I've got a lot to do up there, but a lot of it I can get through in the evenings at home."

"You shouldn't be home in the evenings. A pretty girl like you should have a different beau for every night of the week." I smiled.

She smiled, "Well thank you kind sir, but I tried one beau and he rather put me off the whole beau idea."

"Bad time?"

"If you mean by that, did I chase a man all round the country, making a complete fool of myself, only to have confirmed what I already suspected, that he chased anything in a skirt and love and promises meant nothing to him? Well, Yes, a bad time." She really sounded bitter, but she opened her handbag and took out a tissue to wipe an eye.

"Bad luck. We're not all like that. Just some of us."

"Well, I'm off men for a long, long time." She looked purposefully at me. But I chose to interpret that as a positive sign, at least I'd registered as a possibility, which was progress.

When I got to bed on Tuesday evening I lay awake thinking about my visit to Marston Abbey tomorrow. What was I going to do with Peter Fucking Davies? I didn't move an inch on my guess that he was an immoral little shit, at least in the beginning, but I didn't want him to leave taking his good mind from the company. Worse still, he might then take my two sons off somewhere. No, not now, not when I've just got a chance to start being back in their lives. But, I did want him to feel guilty over what he had done to me, what he had done to the boys. I did want him to suffer. 

For a while I thought about Myra Hepsted. She was an interesting challenge. I guessed she was in much the same place as Helena had been when I got together with her. Surely I stood a chance? This time it would only be one of us that needed nursing back to health. But, then again, we were colleagues, and affairs at work can be disastrous. 

For a while, I combined my two problems. Maybe I could tempt Peter Davies into an affair with Myra. Show him up to everyone for what he was, an immoral little shit. But that would be a cruel misuse of Myra. It would also hurt Molly, I wondered what I felt about that, but I wasn't sure. Then I thought about Myra again, and decided that Davies had stolen one beautiful girl from me, I wasn't going to proffer another.

Eventually, I fell asleep with no better idea than I'd play it by ear.

When I arrived at the Laboratories I was impressed by a long sweeping gravel drive that led to a parking area in front of a huge timber framed medieval house. I asked for Dr McBaine and he came and collected me and took me to his office.

For the next hour he gave me a Power Point presentation about their work. It was actually quite good, and he presented it very professionally, I was impressed. When we got to the end I started asking questions. His presentation was very light on costs, on expectations for the market if the research was successful, or even the chances of success. What I got was a pure researchers answers about the need to understand the problem, the search for knowledge. I began to realise that I was talking to a scientific seeker of truth. My ear started playing.

After nearly an hour's worth of questions I asked my next one, "What chance of getting fed in this place?"

Piers McBaine smiled, "Well we have a Refectory here, not as varied as the one at the Factory, but still quite good. And I hear you like to meet staff and chat to them at lunch." 

The fame of my lunch on the first day had obviously spread to Marston Abbey. But that didn't suit my purpose today, so I asked "Or?"

"Or we can walk over to the George in the village, it's got quite a good restaurant."

I smiled, "The exercise will do us good."

There was a footpath through the grounds that came out in the middle of the village, about fifty yards up the road from the George, which turned out to be a pleasant Victorian country pub. These researchers had an idyllic working environment, I was impressed if not envious, "How do you go back to work after lunch in summer? Just to sit in the sun or stroll the grounds must be so tempting."

"We're scientists. What's tempting is our belief that this time we do the experiment we will discover something; that this time we look down the microscope we'll see something new. We're driven by the need to know."

After that we returned to talk about the research projects until we were seated in the dining room and our lunches were served. 

When it was obvious that that line of conversation had run out, I changed the subject: "I understand you chose today for my visit because your deputy is out of the office."

Piers smiled, "He was meant to be."

"You mean he came in today?"

"Yes. He's been out every Wednesday for months, today he came in."

"Did he know I was coming?"

"Yes, I told him."

"So either he wants a face to face, or he's putting a brave face on everything."

"My guess is that Molly sent him in. He is very worried about you. I told him to stay in his office unless I call for him. Will you shake his hand?"

Now that was a good question, "I once heard the definition of a gentleman was a man who would rather meet people he didn't like than dirty his hands on a bargepole. I guess you'll find out if I'm a gentleman." I smiled, "But if you see me arrive with a long pole on the roof of my car...."

Piers smiled, but then there was a pause, which he broke "Molly has been very good for Piers. That marriage has changed him."

"From what?"

He smiled as he remembered a few years back, "Peter joined us straight from getting his masters. I was Deputy in those days, and I very quickly recognised a nice bloke, and a great researcher. He never seemed to have a girlfriend, then, but after a couple of years he seemed to have a very active private life." He looked up at me, "He became a bit of a Don Juan. I dread to think how many girlfriends he had in the next few years."

"Any of them married?"

He paused and thought about that, "Yes, at least a couple. But I don't think they were in happy marriages, I think they'd separated from their husbands before Peter came on the scene. Jeanette, that's my wife, would know better. She is the religious and moral side of the family, I'm the scientist. And she wouldn't have anything to do with a home wrecker."

"Well he certainly wrecked my home! I reckon he was predator, preying on an attractive woman who he fancied, irrespective of her marriage, her children and her loving husband."

"Maybe it was love at first sight. I'm sure they love each other now."

"So am I. But do you believe in love at first sight? I know it wasn't like that for me. Attraction, lust, sexual interest, but not love. True, lasting love comes later. Didn't it for you? Do you know anyone else that you really believe fell in love with their partner across a crowded room? I don't know of any."

Piers fell quiet and thoughtful. So I sowed a seed, "Well I guess we'll never know. He's the only one who could tell us."

It was obvious that conversation about his friend was beginning to bother him. He wanted to bring it to an end, "Well it was years ago now. And anyway, there are plenty of bachelors.... No, some married men as well, who try their luck with a pretty lady. That's life."

"And you don't think they're wrong? You don't mind that?" I questioned.

Piers smiled, and spontaneously replied, "Not unless it's my wife they're chatting up!" Then he laughed.




Back to Bristol Ch. 03



I put down my knife and fork and just stared at him. He knew exactly what he'd said in a moments thoughtlessness. I left the pause about thirty seconds too long, whilst he looked embarrassed and shame faced.

Eventually, I let him off the hook and changed the subject, "What's the history of the Abbey?"

"There's nothing particularly important about the house. Originally it was obviously part of the Church. After the Reformation, it was a family home up to the Government requisitioning it in the war. When the Government were ready to return it, the family didn't want it anymore, so it was sold. Walter Roach Franks himself bought it, I believe with the idea of making it his home, but his wife had other ideas. So eventually it was turned into the offices and laboratories. Of course the offices moved to the factory in Bristol when they took new premises there."

"And how old is it?"

"The earliest is one cellar that the experts think is about 1430's. But the main house is very early sixteenth century, I seem to remember that 1518 is an important date. But there's nothing special architecturally."

"And how many acres?"

"One hundred and sixty one in total. But the Abbey stands in immediate grounds of twenty eight acres. The rest is just leased to local farmers. The grounds are meant to be private, but we turn a blind eye to dog walkers and the early morning joggers."

"I envy you. Maybe I should move the offices back."

"Well it has its problems. Do you know those sixteenth century builders didn't build in one decent bit of trunking for cables. There are no false ceilings or raised floors. Technically you couldn't have a worse building for scientific laboratories."

I smiled. And suggested we headed back. I added "I'd like a bit of a tour, just to visit a couple of projects. And then, do you have a room big enough for all staff to assemble?"

"Sure, the Refectory."

"Well, perhaps at about four o'clock say, I could talk to all staff. Nothing controversial, just the standard ITI PR talk."

I enjoyed the short tour. The staff were really very welcoming and friendly, and delighted that someone was showing interest in their work. After some time, we retired back to Piers' office for a cup of tea.

At five past four I came into a crowded Refectory. The whole staff were seated in a theatre style layout, with a table and a couple of chairs at the top. I soon spotted Peter Fucking Davies, he was sitting towards the back, at the end of a row, trying to make himself inconspicuous, and ready for a quick exit. 

Piers McBaine hammered the table with his glass, and brought the group to attentiveness, and then quickly introduced me. I stood, taking off my jacket and hanging it on the back of my chair, and sliding the chair under the table. Now I had a space to walk round, chatting rather than giving a speech, sometimes gesticulating with my hands, sometimes with my hands in my pockets. A couple of times I stepped backwards, behind Piers' sightline. And I checked, he remained facing forward, not watching me.

Having given them the usual corporate spiel, and told them how welcoming and professional they all were, and all the usual stuff, I paused. Then I looked up "Change is not mandatory, but then again, survival is not mandatory." I told them that change would happen, that was inevitable. There would be new projects, and some of the current projects would be backed with more funds, greater support. Research was the future for a scientific company like ours. 

Then I invited questions. Someone near the front was bright enough to recognise that I had begged a question. "If you are going to expand some projects, does that mean that you might close down some?"

I put my hands in my pockets, I bowed my head in thought, and I took a step backwards to be out of Piers' sightline, "Of course it is possible we will feel that some projects are not sustainable for any of a hundred reasons. I don't foresee it..." I scanned over the audience, but my eyes then fell on Davies, and for a moment too long, I stared at him as I said, "...but I suppose it may be possible that a particular project might have to be closed." I smiled, "The future is always full of surprises."

There were a few more questions, which I answered far more positively, then they gave me a round of applause, and myself and Piers went back to his office.

He looked at me, "I think that went well." 

"Thank you, I really meant it when I said that research and new products are our future. I will be looking to increase funding. But I also meant it, there may well be changes."

"Changes I can cope with, especially if they come with increased funding. I owe you thanks as well, for the other thing..."

I waited.

"I was a bit scared that you might try showing up Peter or something. I'm glad you didn't."

I smiled, "I'm glad you thought I was OK." 

That evening I met Keith and Anne for a farewell dinner. I chose the best restaurant I could fine listed in the guides, and I have to say the food was exquisite. Anne wanted to go over much of the same territory as Keith had at the Golf Club. I didn't learn anything new, except that Anne put greater emphasis on how 'dull' Molly had seemed. When she reiterated it, she said "It was as if she was just full of regrets about the past rather than excitement about the future."

I again offered up some of the myriad of reasons as to why that may have been her mood on that day. "For Goodness sake, Anne. I'm not sure what you're trying to imply, but they've lasted four years together, I don't think she was regretting losing me that much. She may just have been having a bad day. I on the other hand have just had a very good day, and I am excited about the future."



Back to Bristol Ch. 04



Chapter 04

Thursday and Friday passed without incident. On Thursday I did my interview for the newspaper, which went quite well. The reporter seemed anxious to get an agreed version, and was happy to ignore any comment of mine which I regretted as I said it, and let me answer the questions in my own way, not just sound bites. 

I did achieve one other gentle squeeze on the confidence of Peter Davies which I was quite pleased about. I was talking to Carole at the time, "Have you done anything about organising some lunches for me with the junior and middle ranks?"

"Of course, it's in hand. At the moment it looks like being Thursday of next week. And I've talked to Personnel about how we choose the people. I've booked the biggest table in the Buffet Lunch Room, it takes eight, so you can have seven guests. But I haven't got any names yet. Do you have any ideas?"

"Not for names, No. But there should be representatives of both Exeter and the Abbey, I don't want those two places excluded. Make the one from the Abbey someone from Peter Davies team."

Her eyebrows went up in an unasked question.

"Because, although I hate the little shit, I don't hate his work or his team, and I don't want them to feel I do. OK?"

"Good point. In fact, that's thoughtful of you."

"And make sure there's a good age mix, but biased to bright youngsters on their way up, and could you make it three females say, it's probably too much to hope for fifty-fifty, but three would be nice."

"I'll see what I can do."

What I didn't say was that Dear Peter would, I hope, feel squeezed. His boss is getting on well with me, and now I'll be building good relationships with those immediately under him. I've got him surrounded, and I've done nothing wrong, he can't accuse me of anything wrong.

I left it there, and Carole started going through the mounting pile of invites and demands for my time: Would I like to speak at the Chamber of Commerce? Would I like to lunch with the Trustees of this or that hospital? I seemed to be a popular man.

There was one invite that did stump me, when Carole asked, "Will you be going to the RNIB local fundraiser ball?"

Apparently we are a big sponsor of the ball, it's part of the marketing budget for the laser eye correction kit we sell. Henri Bauer had accepted, but now it was up to me. She waved a ticket in front of me, It was very clearly printed Royal National Institute for the Blind. Easter Ball. Admit 2. I guess it's automatic for them to print everything in big bold fonts, so that those with weak eyesight have a sporting chance to read it. 

"That says: Admit 2. I don't have a partner."

"There's always Helene?" Carole smiled.

"There's always the option of getting a new secretary?" I smiled back, "Do I have to say now?"

"No, the ticket's there. I think they just want to know if you're actually going."

"The answer is Yes, subject to finding someone to go with."

Friday was good, it was the first day of a series of one to one meetings with each Board Member. 

Late in the afternoon, I called for Myra to come and see me, "How's it going?" I asked.

"Tough, but good. I'm hoping that within a couple of weeks I'll be able to get the full team down from London to start the accounts standardisation and integration process. I've spotted a couple of problem areas, but on the whole I'd say it's going well."

"Good, I'm really pleased to hear that. I've got another thing for you: Any idea what Marston Abbey is in the books for?"

"Four point seven million, I think. But don't bet on it. Why?"

"Have you been there?"

"Yes. It's gorgeous. What do I have to do for you to move the Transition Project offices to there?"

"More than your Mother would think proper." I leered.

She smiled back, "A small price to pay." 

Oh, flirting is allowed is it, maybe even welcomed? But all I said was, "There's no rush, but sometime in the coming weeks, can you get it re-valued? And talk to the local planning people, see what they would allow in redevelopment. I reckon, done carefully, all that land and a beautiful old building must be worth a lot more sold off to a sensible developer."

"It would be a pity to see it go."

"Yes. I agree, I loved it like you did. But it isn't the sort of building for modern research. And, as far as I know, this company has no mandate for the maintenance and preservation of medieval ecclesiastical buildings..... And it's a good job I hadn't been drinking before I launched into that sentence. " 

"OK, Chris. I'll play around with it, and see what I can come up with." She smiled, maybe a bit more warmly than someone being polite to their boss should.

"OK. And I'll warn Piers McBaine that we're doing so. And, as I say, no rush, you've got more important things to do."

I looked at my watch, "Fancy a drink?"

She looked surprised, then she smiled, "I'd love to, but I'm driving, and I've got some shopping to do otherwise I won't eat for the whole weekend."

A good diplomatic answer, I thought. She's not stupid, she knew what I was pitching for, but she's probably right, affairs with the boss are probably not a good idea. I smiled, "Of course, you need to go home. I'll see you next week."

The weekend went quite well. I took the boys out for lunch and I bought them a kite each, so we spent the afternoon kite flying on the Downs. I thought the boys were noticeably more relaxed than last week, and happier to chat. But they didn't mention anything about their home, their mother's marriage, or my life, and I thought it best to leave talking about those things for a couple more weeks. I was pleased to find that Susan wasn't out to antagonise me this week.

When I got to work on Monday, Carole was quietly smug and just handed me some files without a word. It worried me. I went into my office wondering what awaited me. 

What awaited me was a transformed office. The furniture was the same, except for the addition of an eight seat conference table. But the rearrangement, the addition of several table lamps, a large rug and some tubs of plants had transformed the room. I turned round to go and tell Carole that I loved it, but I bumped into her, she'd followed me to see my reaction.

"The Old Man will be jealous. This is so nice." I said.

Carole was smiling, apparently she'd come in on Saturday morning to see the start of the transformation, and had been there since half past seven this morning to do the final touches.

I looked into her eyes, "Thank you."

She smiled, "You're a breath of fresh air, I like that."

I looked round, "It needs personalising. Some pictures on the wall and a few nice things on those units over there. I've got some things that I can bring in, but I'll have to go shopping."

"I like the idea of some pictures, I suggested it to Sheila, but she didn't have any."

"Well, how about we do some work. I've read all the details of committees that you gave me." I said as I sat down at my desk, and unpacked my weekend reading from my briefcase. Carole sat down and waited.

"OK. These four are a waste of time as far as I can see. Can you please draft a memo to say it is my intent to cancel them, but if any of the members of any Committee feel that there is a really good reason why we should continue, then they are to come and see me." I handed Carole the first four files. 

I smiled, "And now I come to the Research Liaison Committee." I paused, Carole smiled, she knew this one was going to be awkward. 

I leant back, "First off, there is no way I'm chairing it. But I accept that Research needs greater interaction with the rest of the Company. So, I want Piers McBaine to chair it. Let's put both Bill Ellswood and John Wheeler on as the two directors with the most exposure to the market, and let them bring someone else each as well. Let's put Tim Johnson on it, it's nothing to do with him, but it gives a bright lad a chance, and he's of a scientific nature in computing. Have a word with Stephen Hobbs and get him to come up from Exeter or nominate someone to do so. I guess Piers will want Peter Davies, he should volunteer a couple of other ones from the Abbey as well. And I guess we ought to have someone from Production, not Dennis, there is no point in flogging a dead horse, but someone fairly senior..."

Carole interrupted me with a suggestion of an Annette Morgan who was Deputy Head of Production and sounded great, and we went on to define a new set of terms of reference for the Committee.

When we'd finished, and I'd asked Carole to type it up in a memo that could be sent to Piers for his comment, she added "And you don't have to sit on a committee with Peter Davies."

"You noticed." I smiled.

The pace of life at ITI-Franks was beginning to pick up for me, which was the way I liked it. My days were beginning to go faster. 

Just before lunch on Wednesday, I had just got back to Carole's office after a meeting with Dennis Murrell in Production, and I was grinding my teeth in frustration. Myra was there, handing some paperwork to Carole.

I looked at Carole "Who have I got for lunch?" 

"No one, I left it empty in case you wanted to go to lunch with Dennis."

"You hate me that much?" I turned to Myra, "Myra, have you seen my new office?" And I led her into my room.

"This is nice, a lot softer than it was. I used to sit in here for interminable meetings with Henri Bauer thinking it's so sterile in here. It looks a lot better."

"But I need your help. It needs a few pictures and some nice things for the units. So why don't I buy you lunch and you can help me choose some bits and pieces?"

She looked dubious, very dubious.

"And it's a chance to spend some of your boss' money, my personal money. You can't resist that can you.?"

She smiled, "What girl could resist shopping with someone else's money?"

I took her to the shops first, and she helped me choose some pleasant prints, already framed. I picked up quite a nice fruit bowl, I quite liked the idea of having some fresh fruit in the office. That's what comes of being married to a dietician for seven years. And then I spotted a lovely cut glass decanter and six matching whisky tumblers. 

I stopped to look at it, it cost a fortune for what was essentially a glass bottle. But may be I can impress her with money, "I've always fancied having a decanter of malt whisky in the office. It'll probably never get drunk, but the idea of sharing a small dram with a colleague at the end of a long day.... Just like the movies, you know, jackets off, ties loosened, only the desk lamp on, and a meaningful few words before we go home...." 

She smiled, and I bought the glassware.

Then I took her to lunch at a Chinese near the University where I'd eaten one evening last week so I knew it was good.

I was determined to make progress, maybe if I share a little of my story, show her some of me, .... "It's funny being back in Bristol after some years away. I was born, grew up, and married here......."

That caught her interest, and I quickly added, "We're divorced now...." 

She had a look of 'another bloody man probably letting down some innocent wife', "...and it wasn't what you're thinking." I quickly got in. For about ten minutes a gave her an attractively edited version of my life. 

Then there was a pause, "So, what happened to you then?" I asked.

What I learnt was that she had a long term boyfriend from University called Jonathon. They'd both got jobs in Bath, and set up home together. Everything was great for a couple of years, then he started 'having to work late'. When she discovered the affair, she gave him a choice, 'her or me'. He chose Myra, and everything was fine-ish for a while. Then he decided to change his job and go and work in London, and Myra waved him bye-bye. But she missed him, and so she got herself the job at ITI in London. Some days she'd commute the hour and half to London from Bath, other nights she'd stay with him. Then she discovered that on the nights when she went back to Bath, he was a busy little chap! And now she's bitter and twisted and man-shy.

She was fairly emotional in her telling the story. I suspected that I was the first person she'd told it to as one complete tale. She didn't give me an opening to suggest that we might date, and I still had the nagging doubt that maybe I shouldn't, not with a colleague.

When we got back, she did give me a big smile, "Thank you. I enjoyed that."

When I staggered to my office with pictures and parcels, Carole handed me the usual sheaf of papers and files, "And how was lunch with Myra?"

"Good." And I looked at her, "And innocent!"

"I'm sure it was. By the way, one of those files is the list of your guests for tomorrow's lunch, with a mini-bio on each from Personnel. I've told them to come here at twelve forty five. I've told them downstairs to have your table ready for one."

I'll catch her, I thought, "Well you'd better order a jug of orange juice and some bottles of fizzy water or something for those who want a drink when we're here."

"Already done. It'll be delivered at twelve thirty." Damn! She's just so bloody efficient!

The only thing I looked up was the representative of Peter Davies team. It was a girl called Sharon Booth, from her personnel bio she was twenty seven years old, with a first class degree in opthalmics, and she was married. 

Actually the Lunch went well. There was good conversation, and a lot of laughter. I didn't really get to talk to Sharon Booth very much on a one-to-one basis, she sat about as far away from me as she could get. I wondered if Dear Peter had briefed against me.

As we were leaving the Lunch Room, I tapped her on the shoulder, "How are you getting back to the Abbey? I can give you a lift if you like, I want to see Piers McBaine."

She looked relieved. "Oh, that would be kind. I thought I was going to have to take a taxi."

"Well let me nip back up to my office and see Carole, and I'll meet you in Reception."

Carole of course, wanted to know how the lunch had gone, and I told her that I thought it was a success. I got her to check that Piers McBaine would be there to see me if I turned up in half an hour. 

I picked up Sharon in Reception and showed her to my car.

After some usual pleasantries I changed the subject, "Don't you drive? You said you were taking taxis."

"Oh, I drive. But Peter said he had to come into Bristol for lunch, and he insisted that I took a lift with him. He wanted to take the opportunity to talk to me."

"But that would leave you stranded for your return trip."

"That's what I said, but he said there might be wine at lunch, and anyway he'd sign my expenses for a taxi." 

"So, if I'm not being too nosey, what did he want to talk about?"

"I'm not sure. He wanted to know what I'd been told about this lunch, but other than that there was nothing particularly important, or nothing I spotted anyway."

"Maybe it was something that he needed to know but you didn't see as particularly important. Have you worked for him long?"

"Over five years, ever since I graduated. Peter came to my college and gave a lecture on his work." She blushed a bit, "Don't tell my husband .... well my fiancé at that time, but I thought he was rather dishy and his work sounded so exciting. I wanted to work here."

"You didn't follow up on your dishy feelings?" I laughed.

"Good Heavens, No! Although I think he tried once, in the early days. But I love my husband very much, I was just married by then, and I probably misinterpreted Peter anyway."

"I think you probably did. There is nothing, as far as I know, on his record about him molesting female colleagues."

"Don't destroy my memories completely. It is rather flattering to think I might have been chatted up by my dishy boss when working late one evening. You know the Abbey is a rather romantic setting on a summer's evening and there's only two of you working late."

I laughed, "Pure romantic imagination."

We fell to comfortable silence for a couple of miles, then she asked, "Is it true that Peter's wife was your ex-wife?"

"Yes. It's true."

"What a choice! Deputy Head of Research or Managing Director. Boy, did she get that one wrong!"

Again she made me laugh, "I knew all women were mercenary. And you were trying to paint yourself as a romantic earlier."

"Is there bad feeling between you and Peter? There is a rumour he worries about it." She paused, and I wondered about how I was going to answer. But she had second thoughts. "Sorry, I shouldn't have asked. It was very rude of me."

"Don't worry. You can't help who you fall in love with. My wife fell in love with Peter. And as far as I know they have a loving and strong marriage." I laughed dirtily, "And I've had my moments since."

Sharon laughed, looked at me and said, "I would have thought you wouldn't have had too much problem having plenty of them."

I pulled through the gates of the Abbey. "Well, here we are. What are you doing for the afternoon?"

"First, I've got to go and see Peter. My guess is he'll want a full report on the lunch." But as we got out of the car, she looked across the car roof at me, "Please don't make it awkward for Peter. He's a nice man, and there is no where else in this country that I could do this work."

"Don't worry, I've heard no suggestion of cancelling the project. In fact, I promise I'll come over some time soon, and you can show me what you do."

I walked into Reception with Sharon, where we shook hands and she went off to her lab. I told the receptionist to warn Piers McBaine that I was on my way, but that I'd walk straight down to his office. 

As I walked along the corridor, I considered that Peter Davies had tried chatting up a married woman and a colleague, not that it surprised me. Better news was that he is getting nicely paranoid about me. He gave me some sleepless nights, time for him to try them!

I knocked and walked into Piers McBaine's office, "Piers, it's very good of you to see me at short notice." I held out my hand and we shook hands.

"It's good that you took the time to come and see us over here. It's always good to welcome the Managing Director to the Abbey." He paused and looked at me, "But I suspect there's a reason, and one that I might not like. Good news comes by email, bad news comes by personal visits."

I laughed, "Confidential news."

"What? And do you fancy a cup of tea?" He asked as I settled into one of his visitors' chairs.

"No thanks, this shouldn't take long." I paused while I chose my words, "I've asked Myra Hepsted, I believe you know her, to organise a valuation of the potential sale price of the Abbey."

He didn't look too concerned, "I've thought this day would come for years. Companies don't own places like this just to use as research laboratories."

"No, I suspect we could sell this place and build a brand new purpose built set of laboratories somewhere and still make a good profit."

He nodded, "Well, thank you for letting me know."

"Well, I thought I should warn you. Myra could well be bringing surveyors and others over the place at some time. And that could start very bad rumours flying unless you handle it properly."

"Yes, I'll make sure everyone knows."

"Well you can fairly emphasise that no decisions have been taken. This is purely a revaluation for the accounts and so that we have the information on which we could make a decision."

"OK. But while you're here, I want to talk to you about the changes you've made to the Research Liaison Committee."

"Go on."

"Well, in simple terms, you've taken yourself off it. I worked for years to get the prestige of having the Managing Director as Chairman of the Research Committees, and now we've lost that."

"View it that you have come of age. You don't need my patronage like that any more. I've tried to improve the opportunities and status of that Committee. Head of Research is now to chair a committee with members of other departments sitting on it, including two Directors. And it can do some really good work of keeping you and your guys in touch with the marketplace. You should be doing research into solving problems that the market wants solved and is willing to pay good money for the solution."




Back to Bristol Ch. 04



"But it is without your patronage, as you call it."

I began to get a firmer tone in my voice, "Yes, it is. I think you've got to allow me to choose how best I spend my time working for this Company."

Piers stared at his clenched fists on the desk in front of him. Then he looked up at me, "Dammit, Chris! This is so you can avoid Peter. OK, he stole your wife, but that was years ago, get over it."

I just stared at him, and waited while the pause became heavy, "Interesting choice of words, Piers." I said, quite quietly.

Piers slumped slightly, "I don't know, but I am beginning to suspect you might have been right. That he picked up Molly because he simply fancied her."

"And why would you suddenly think that?"

"Last Friday in the George for the Friday drinks, I don't go every week and I always leave early before it gets embarrassing with some of the juniors, anyway, I asked him if he ever sees any of her old girlfriends. It was my attempt at trying to approach the subject obliquely."

"And?"

"He said: Not really. But then he mentioned one girl who I knew he had an affair with that went on for several months, and I thought might have been one of the married ones. He said she was back with her husband, and very happy. I asked if she ever left him, and he sort of smiled conspiratorially and said: Well, not really."

"So he had an affair with a married woman." I said it as a fact, not a question.

"It would seem so. I tried to ask a little about Molly. He seemed quite happy, even profuse in talking about her now, but if I threw in any question that related to how they met, or their early days, he became vague." 

"Can't you remember what he said at the time?"

"Not really. In those days it was simply that Peter has a new girlfriend, so what's new? I asked my wife, Jeanette, she was the one who talked to him about affairs of the heart, and she says he told her that Molly was in a bad relationship, and that it was breaking up and he could let her be the woman she really was. Jeanette and Peter have always liked each other, Peter and Molly's wedding is the only civil wedding that Jeanette has ever been to. Proper weddings are in Church as far as Jeanette is concerned. If Peter and Molly got up to something naughty in those days, Jeanette will have real problems with it."

He didn't look at all happy. I felt rather sorry for him.

"Well, we don't really know the truth, we can only guess. And you shouldn't condemn a man without knowing the truth." He could take that as a way out or a challenge.

He looked at me, rather forlornly, "I've known Peter for nearly ten years. He's a really nice guy, and very good at his work. I don't want to find out that he deliberately broke up a happy family, even if it turned out fine for him and her in the end."

"Well, you don't have to ask. You don't have to know for certain." But I knew damn well that he would, it was in his nature. And I wanted him to.

We sat in silence for a moment, then I spoke up, sounding more positive, "Look, why don't I take you and Jeanette out to dinner on Saturday, if you're free?"

"I know we're free. But you don't have to."

"I'd like to. I'd like to meet Jeanette, and you can use it in this prestige war you have with the rest of the Company. Let it be known that the first senior executive that I've wined and dined is Head of Research. It can't do any harm. Where do you live?"

"Bath."

"Well, Bath has loads of great restaurants. Choose the one that you and Jeanette really like, let Carole know and she'll get it booked up. How about it?"

He smiled, "OK, you're on."

I stopped at a wine store on my way back and browsed the malt whiskies, looking for one for my new office decanter. I like the stuff, but I'm far from an expert. After looking at the whisky shelves for some time, an assistant came over to help. Having told him that what I wanted was a whisky for early evenings, just a quick shot occasionally at the end of the working day, and that it would be nice if it was a bit different, something to talk about, he suggested a Lowland Malt, "They're drier and lighter. And less common than the Highland Malts. But he only had two, Auchentoshen or Glenkinchie. I chose Glenkinchie because I thought I stood a chance of pronouncing it without risk of upsetting any Scot in the room.

When I got back to my office Carole was waiting for me with a question, "Are you going to dinner with the McBaines on Saturday?"

"Yes. Is it a crime?"

"Oh No, it was just a surprise. Anyway Piers McBaine phoned to say he's had a word with his wife, and now you are invited to their home, at eight o'clock. Here's the address." And she handed me one of her message sheets.

"Thanks."

"And don't work too late. Remember you've got that sales dinner tonight."

"Yes, Mummy." I said with a smile and went into my office.

Saturday evening at the McBaine's was very pleasant. Jeanette seemed very pleased with the bunch of flowers that I'd brought. They had a very tasteful and elegant flat in one of the classic Georgian terraces of Bath. They told me that they'd moved here as they downsized from their large family house after both their son and daughter got married.

The dinner was good, I asked who was the cook, but was told they shared the work, and both had cooked the meal. Table talk was mainly about family, holidays and tales of good times in the past. There was nothing specific about Molly or Peter Davies, although obviously a lot of my good family memories and stories were from my times with her.

It wasn't until Piers disappeared off into the kitchen to make the coffee, a speciality of his apparently, that Jeanette raised the subject of my marriage and divorce, "You know, Chris, you've quite upset Piers in raising doubts about Peter. Was he so bad? I understood that you and Molly were pretty much at the end of the road when he came along."

I looked up at her, "Then you understand wrong, Jeanette. To the very best of my knowledge, and I've thought about this quite a bit in the last four years, myself and Molly had a great marriage and a happy family until he came along. I know I was deeply in love with her right up to the final bust up."

"And now?"

"And now they love each other, and are married and they give a home to my two sons, and I wouldn't really want to upset that. It's just that he came along and chose, with no option for me, to impose himself on my life, on my sons' lives, and on Molly's life. Of course I accept that she seems to have welcomed his intrusion, but I don't have to like it."

"If he did that, well....." She paused, "I like Peter a lot. We often argue about ethics and morals, especially as they apply in research. I rarely agree with his views, but he has thought them out carefully and I respect that. If he took deliberate, selfish action that led to unhappiness and hurt on innocent people, I don't know what I'd think." Again she paused, "But Molly seems to have been attracted to him, so something must have been wrong somewhere in your marriage."

I shook my head, "And don't I know it! I'd still love to know what it was that made her prefer him to me...what I did wrong."

"Well, I'm seeing her on Friday, for lunch. I might find a way of asking her."

"Please don't put your friendship on the line just because of me, Jeanette."

She smiled, "Oh, I'll be discreet. She won't even know I'm asking."

We paused, until she asked, "How do you get on with your boys? I've seen them lots of times, and they are a credit to you and Molly."

"Mainly to Molly. I haven't been a very good father, my career seemed to take over for a while after the divorce. But I'm trying to do better now. I'm seeing them every weekend, I'll see them tomorrow."

"How's that going? I know that Molly puts a lot of effort into making sure that they always think of you as their father, and that Peter is just a step-dad."

I smiled as I thought of Jamie and Ben, "Better than I expected, better than I deserve. But, I find it hard to think up something to do with them every weekend. If we were a family, they'd amuse themselves whilst I cleaned the car and their mother cooked or something. But as I only see them for a few hours each week, I always want to make it special."

Just then, Piers returned with a tray of coffee, "....make what special?"

"My time with Jamie and Ben, my boys. I only see them for a few hours at the weekends."

Piers looked at me, "You know the company has a box at Bath Rugby and, I think, another one at Bristol City if you're a football man."

I smiled, "No, I didn't know. Who is guardian of such treasure?"

"Sales Department. Who else? I've had an invite a couple of times to the rugby, but they mainly keep it to themselves.... And the occasional client of course." We all smiled, knowing the ways of the world.

On Sunday I turned up on time to collect my two sons from Susan and Ralph's. It was Susan who opened the door, although I could see Ralph in the background, pottering in the kitchen.

"Hello, Susan. Are the boys ready?"

She called out for Jamie and Ben and they came running out and were busy climbing into the back of the Jag with little more than a 'Hi, Dad.' as they passed.

I turned back to Susan, "I hope this is OK with you, but I thought I might keep them a bit later, six or seven o'clock say."

I could see her bridle, "Molly didn't say anything about that. And we'll want them back to give them something to eat before Molly collects them." Then she looked into my eyes, I think her eyes showed signs of fear more than anything else, "Why do you think you can come back here and just take them whenever you feel like it, without a word to anyone?"

I answered quietly, "I don't. I just want to start extending the time I spend with them. Maybe one day I can get to having them for the whole weekend. It would save you and Ralph always having to baby-sit."

"It's a pity you didn't think about them a bit more a few years ago. But that would have got in the way of your job."

Just then, Ralph stepped up behind Susan and put his arm around her shoulder, "It's all right, Chris. Just have them back by about seven, Molly collects them about then." And he pulled Susan back into the hall and closed the door.

What was that about!?!

On the Monday morning, I asked Carole, "I hear that the Company has a box at Bath Rugby and another one at Bristol City. Is that true?"

"It certainly was last year. Why?"

"I suspect my sons might like to watch a match."

"I'll get onto it." And knowing Carole, she would.

And as good as her word, just before lunch she hands be a plastic wallet. "What's this?"

"Entrance for Bath Rugby this Saturday. And a car parking space I believe."

"They cracked quickly, what did you do?"

"I went down and asked them who they were taking as guests and to which venue on Saturday, because you'd like to help entertain clients. They got all embarrassed, and admitted that they hadn't got any clients coming this week. So I said, well perhaps you could invite some personal guests to the rugby, and we won't say anything about the football. They seemed happy with the arrangement, and handed over the rugby."

I smiled, "Well done. But please remind them that it is really for entertaining clients."

I phoned up Ralph and invited him to the rugby, and that I'd pick up the boys and him just before lunch on Saturday. I then gave Piers McBaine a call, and thanked him for the idea, and invited him as well.

The rest of the week seemed to fly by. I spent Wednesday and Thursday in London, keeping HQ happy. On the Wednesday I had a good meeting with Stephen, The Old Man. He seemed happy with my thinking on Franks, as far as it went. I made sure Myra was in London for the Thursday so that we could have some joint meetings. I tried inviting her to dinner on Wednesday evening, hoping she would be staying in London, but she excused herself as she was in Bristol on Wednesday and was going to come up to London on Thursday morning.

On the Saturday, I picked up Ralph and the boys and we set off for the rugby. We stopped for a good lunch before we got to the ground, and I was sorely tempted to ask what had got into Susan on the previous weekend. But I decided that contentious issues were probably best left until after the match.

Everything went smoothly, Carole had organised things. There was no lavish entertaining, but there was a small buffet table laid out, and a good selection of cold beers and wines in the fridge. I introduced Ralph and Piers, but they vaguely knew each other through Molly and Peter.

When we got to the match, we sat in a row out on the balcony, with the boys between Ralph and myself, and with Piers on the other side of me. I took the opportunity to ask Piers how Friday's lunch between Jeanette and Molly had gone. 

He smiled, "I've got a bone to pick with you about that."

"What?"

"Well, Jeanette's approach was that naturally she wanted to gossip about the new boss at Franks, and who better to ask than his ex-wife. Apparently, Molly said you were a husband sent from heaven. Loving, kind, a great father and family man. You even bought flowers, often apparently. I've never been big on flowers myself .... as Jeanette has pointed out to me on several occasions last night and this morning." He was smiling.

I smiled in response, "Anything else?"

"No, not really. Jeanette was a bit wary of asking too much. But Molly does seem to say that the end of your marriage was solely that she had this affair with Peter. Jeanette didn't like that very much. I don't think she wanted to ask too much more in case she got angry."

"And I'm none the wiser." I said and we watched the game.

At half time Ben needed the toilet, and I took him. When we got back I found Jamie piling loads of the buffet food onto a plate, and Piers and Ralph drinking beer and chatting. Ben quickly found his own plate and joined his brother. I found myself a beer.

I watched as Jamie and Ben set themselves up on the balcony with their food and cans of Coke. I joined Piers and Ralph, "What are you two talking about?"

Piers answered, "You actually, or you and Molly and Peter."

"And what bit of gossip in particular?" I asked

It was Ralph that then turned to me, "What I never understood was why you never tried counselling, or simply forgiving her or something? Why didn't you fight back instead of just rushing to a divorce?"

That irritated me, "Well, having an affair is a pretty long way towards the Divorce Court. And then I think there's a clue in the fact that she never asked for forgiveness, not once, not one word. And then there's the fact that she never said she loved me. Oh, she said that she had thought she loved me." I paused briefly, "In fact, I believe she really did love me all the way to Peter Davies turning up. And then there was the fact that she never said sorry. Oh, she was sorry for how she'd hurt me, she was sorry at what she was doing to our family, but she was never sorry for her affair with Peter. And then there's the fact that she went on seeing him, and accepted his marriage proposal weeks before the decree nisi was granted, and she married him within five weeks of the Absolute being granted. Does that give you a clue as to why I accepted divorce?"

Ralph just stared at me, there was doubt in his eyes; I wondered what he was going to accuse me of next. So I added, "I wasn't the easiest person to talk to at that time, my world was pretty much in ruins at my feet, but I'd swear to all of that. Not one glimmer of the possibility of reconciliation."

Ralph continued to just stare, I think he was considering my words, 'Not one glimmer' was all he said.

Then Piers said, "Come on, they're coming back on." And we went out onto the balcony and watched the rest of the game.

On the way home, I asked Ralph, "What got into Susan yesterday?"

Ralph looked round at me as I drove, he indicated the back seat occupants, "I'll tell you later."

And when we got back, he asked if I was going to take the boys out on Sunday as usual. I looked at him, "I'd love to, but it may upset Susan or Molly."

He smiled, "Well it won't upset Molly. She was very clear, you are their father, and you can have them as much as you want. As for Susan, well I'll talk to her about it."

That made it easier, "Well I'll take them out to lunch, but bring them back soon after. How does that sound?"

"Whatever you want. When you bring them back find me, I'll probably be in the garden and we can have a chat."

So, after I'd delivered the boys back, I went round the side of the house, and there was Ralph, trimming a bush. "Ah, Chris. Come down to my new shed. You haven't seen this, it was a present to myself when I retired." And he led the way to the bottom of their very large garden, every inch of it immaculate in the weak setting sun.

At the bottom were two greenhouses and two sheds, one noticeably newer than the other. Ralph led on into the newer one. Inside was a little safe place that was all Ralph's. I saw a couple of propagating trays on the shelf under the window which was not surprising, but there were a couple of matching chairs, a camping stove set up with a kettle and a pile of gardening magazines. And two children's bikes. 

These were obviously the bikes I'd order off the Internet as the boys' Christmas presents last year. I remarked on them, and Ralph smiled, an indulgent smile, "Yes, I let them keep them in here, the only thing to intrude into my little hideaway."

I sat down in one of the chairs, Ralph looked at me, "Cup of tea? It'll be powdered milk down here, or something a bit better?" And from nowhere he produced a bottle of supermarket brand sweet sherry.

I laughed, "You're sorted down here, aren't you?"

"Wonderful on a winter's day, when the cold cuts right through you. And nice as a little taster at the end of a summer's day of gardening as well."

"OK then."

He produced a tube of plastic cups, as used in coffee vending machines. He winked at me, "I tell Susan that these are for planting out individual seedlings."

"So, what's eating Susan?"

He didn't answer immediately. Instead he poured us a generous sherry each, and passed one to me, "Susan doesn't travel."

"Pardon?"

"Susan doesn't travel. Haven't you ever noticed that we always stay in this country for holidays, and we only ever travel in our own car. Susan has never flown. I don't think she's pathologically phobic, she's just never tried. But she most definitely doesn't want to do it. And she certainly doesn't want to have to eat foreign food, or talk a foreign language."

"OK, so?"

"So, years ago, didn't you notice that Susan was beginning to have doubts about you? Long before the divorce."

"Yes, I did. I always wondered what I did wrong."

"Well, it became more and more obvious that you were ambitious and probably going to be successful. You were working in Bristol then, but what next? London? America? You ended up in Holland. What would Susan have done to see her daughter and more important, her grandsons?"

"And that was it? She was scared that I'd take Molly and the boys away?"

"Yes. And then you and Molly broke up. And Susan came into her own. She looked after the boys so well when Molly was going through the divorce. She spent hours with Molly, helping her at probably the lowest point in Molly's life. But then she married Peter. Well Peter is a nice bloke, and very bright, but he's rather a sedentary soul. He's not going to move from Marston Abbey for as long as he can do his research. Probably the height of his ambition is to be Head of Research. He is a far better son than you would ever be."

"I see. It's nice to feel wanted." I said sarcastically.

"Oh, she loves Molly. She wants her to be happy. But how much better if she's happy with Peter rather than you."




Back to Bristol Ch. 04



"Is that part of my divorce story?" I asked.

"Oh No. No way whatsoever. We stayed out of that. Our job was to just support Molly, whatever she did. In fact Susan was most insistent that we mustn't interfere. I wonder sometimes if I should have interfered more."

"It depends in which direction, but its all a long time ago, and it really wouldn't have made much difference."

We both sipped our sherry and looked at each other, I could see another question forming in Ralph's mind.

"You haven't remarried."

"True."

"Do you regret the divorce?"

"Not really. I didn't have much option, and it was all a long time ago."

"You know, Molly comes around here on your wedding anniversary every year, or she has since she married Peter. And she always finds an excuse to stay the night, she never wants to be with him on that night. And she always cries. She always sits at our kitchen table and cries."

"I have trouble on 23rd April as well. Shakespeare's birthday as well as our anniversary. Helene used to be very good about things like that. She just accepted that I'd be very quiet, and she never asked anything. It was like that on the boys' birthdays as well. I guess Molly does know that we had something very special, I just hope that she swapped it for something even more special on the other three hundred and sixty four days."

We looked at each other in silence for a minute, then I said, "I must be going."

On the Wednesday I had the second of my mixed staff lunch parties. Again it went very well. And a couple of my guests said that their managers were beginning to be more open with their staff. One joining them in the main dining room once in a while, and the other had been for a Friday night drink with his department for the first time in years. 

One of the other things I noticed was that Carole had again left my afternoon flexible. I had a naughty thought.

At about three thirty, I phoned Marston Abbey, "Is Peter Davies there, please." My finger hovered over the disconnect button.

"I'm sorry, Sir, he's out, and won't be back until tomorrow morning." 

What a surprise, he's out on a Wednesday. "Oh, could I speak to Sharon Booth then please."

"Sharon, it's Chris Bennett. I was wondering if I could possible honour my promise of coming and learning something about your project, I've got a little free time this afternoon."

"Oh, Well... Peter's out today. I suppose I could show you, with some help."

"Good. I'll see you in about half an hour."

I had a very good hour and a half looking at the project. I won't claim I understood it all, but some of it had me searching my memory for something I learned on my physics course. And I did say Um and Aah at all the right points, and looked interested. In fact I was the epitome of charm and interest with everyone I met on the project. When we finished I invited them all over to the George as a way of saying thank you for putting on such a professional presentation at short notice. In the pub I was as open, friendly and helpful as any politician seeking election. I shared dirty jokes with the guys, I flirted with the girls. I doubt whether they've ever met such a likeable Managing Director in their lives. Peter Davies will be so pleased to learn that his team think I'm a good guy.

Thursday was going well, in the afternoon I had a meeting with Neil Davidson and his Personnel team, mainly about problems they were meeting with transferring staff onto ITI contracts, or into the ITI pension scheme. 

After it was over I was reading some papers, sitting in the comfortable armchair which I used almost more often than the throne at my desk, when Carole came in. "I've got Peter Davies outside, asking to see you." She looked worried.

My stomach hit the floor. I thought for a moment or two, "OK. Tell him I'll see him, but I'm a bit busy. Tell him to wait."

I thought about what this could be about and how to handle it. It forced me to recognise that however much I hated Peter Davies, there wasn't really very much I could do about it. I can't sack him for no good business reason. I can't chase him out, just to see him take my boys off somewhere else. I felt frustrated at being powerless.

I went and sat at my desk, ensconced on my throne. I looked around the room, then I got up and turned off the main light, instead lighting the room with the table lamps, and turned my desk light so that it pointed out and down and not at me. I wanted to be able to see every expression on his face, to be able to read his eyes, and to be in shadow myself. It took me over ten minutes to satisfy myself that I'd got it as good as I could, then I buzzed Carole to send him in.

He looked nervous, I could see beads of perspiration on his top lip. Making him wait probably hadn't helped. He was about my height, a slightly receding hairline, but that was almost attractive on his intelligent face. Nice pale green eyes, I thought, behind his glasses. He also looked handsome. I begrudged him the thought, but I could see that he was a very attractive looking man.

I looked at him, I didn't invite him to sit down, "Yes?"

"I feel we might need to clear the air between us."

"Why?"

"Because I feel that you have been avoiding me, because you may feel some resentment at my winning Molly."

I paused to think about it.

"What I feel is irrelevant. Have I had any cause or need to meet you for business reasons? Have you any reason to say that I've been avoiding you?"

"Well, no.....but ..... I do love her you know. I am trying to make her happy, and I'll go on doing that always. And I've looked after your boys, I know you always pay their maintenance, but contrary to popular opinion, I am very fond of them. They're the nearest thing I'll ever have to sons of my own."

He is shooting blanks! Oh that makes me feel so good. Thank you God.

"It can't always have been easy for you." I thought sympathy might surprise him. "Marrying Molly so soon after a traumatic divorce. And taking on two young boys."

I saw him relax, "No, it wasn't." He smiled, "I certainly learnt the meaning of the word Patience. But I love her and we have a good marriage." He obviously decided to repay my kindness with a compliment, "And you are a hard act to follow."

I smiled, "Then what is your problem? I don't particularly like you, but neither of us has to like everyone who works in this company. I understand you are good at your job. That's what you're paid for, so get on and do it. And if you feel persecuted by anyone, then report it to Personnel. ITI has very strict rules about that sort of thing."

I wanted to launch into him for the immoral, predatory way he had forced himself into my life, and broke my marriage. But I couldn't. It might not be judged well by Personnel if he made a complaint. I just felt helpless.

He was still standing there, I looked at him, his eyes were searching, I guess searching for some way of getting reassurance. "You came and saw the project yesterday."

I smiled, "Yes I did. And I was very impressed by the work. And by the team. I thought there were a couple of people on the team who really understood it all, who were handling the project well." Was that a big enough hint that he was replaceable? I hoped so. "I took them to the pub afterwards. We had a good time. The George sells a good pint, you are lucky to work so close to a nice pub."

He shuffled from foot to foot. I waited.

Suddenly, he stepped forward, and held out his hand. "Well, I guess that's all I came to say."

"OK then." I ignored his proffered handshake, and did The Old Man's trick of picking up a file on my desk and apparently becoming absorbed in it.

I heard the door close behind him.

That was quickly followed by the door opening again and Carole coming in, "Are you alright?"

"Yes" I smiled and got up and poured myself my first whisky from my decanter. My hand was shaking, and I needed this whisky. "Want one?"

"No thanks, I can't stand Scotch." She smiled, visibly relaxed.

"What did he say on the way out." I asked.

"Nothing. I think he looked worse coming out than he did going in."

"He didn't happen to mention that he was walking home on a route down some dark alleys did he?" There was hope in my voice..

"No, he would be in his car."

"How do you cut a brake pipe?" I asked, smiling. 

Carole laughed.

No sooner had Carole left than I realised that I was too upset to work. I walked out, saying "I'm calling it quits for the day." as I passed Carole's desk.

I got into my car and started heading home. But my head was too full of thoughts, and I was restless. I turned left down the Avon Gorge, under Brunel's magnificent suspension bridge. 

I felt powerless in dealing with Peter Davies. He had walked into my life, unannounced and unwelcome. In doing that he had changed my life irrevocably. There was nothing I could do about it then, and there seems to be nothing I can do about it now. I was angry. I pressed the accelerator in my anger. All that did was make the car in front get a lot closer a lot quicker and I had to brake. I thought I wanted speed. I headed out to the motorway and the bridge across the River Severn.

I was soon into Wales and heading into the Welsh border country. But motorway speed wasn't what I needed. I was still stuck playing by the rules imposed by society, the rules of the road. Just like I was limited by the rules of good HR in dealing with Davies! I turned off the motorway and headed north.

It didn't seem to take very long before I'd passed through Abergavenny, and the Black Mountains were on my right and the Brecon Beacons off to the left. I left the main road and started drifting upwards into the mountains on winding narrow country lanes. As I drove on I became more and more confidant, but it was dark now. With headlights on my confidence increased, I'd see any on-coming vehicles, and my right foot pressed the pedal harder. As long as I don't meet a tractor without lights I'd .... FUCKING HELL! That was a bend and a half! It scared the shit out of me. And there seemed to be a hundred foot sheer drop on the side of the road and no barrier. I sat where I stopped and realised that I'd broken out in a cold clammy sweat. Actually I don't think the car had moved one inch from the line I'd steered, but I certainly scared myself. Now is not the time to die, not just because Peter Fucking Davies had upset me.

I drove on a little more conservatively after that. The car certainly has better limits than I have, and I wasn't going to push it anymore. After a few miles I came to a junction with the road to Hay-on-Wye marked. I followed it and parked in the town centre. I could do with a drink. 

A couple of pints and a very good steak later and I was heading back for Bristol.

I was in early the next morning, ahead of Carole. But when she arrived, she quickly made me a coffee and brought it in, "How are you this morning, Chris? Are you feeling better?"

I looked at her, "I just feel I was fighting a battle with both hands tied behind my back." I shrugged, "But then I don't know what I want, what winning would be. I don't want to drive him away, into getting another research job somewhere else and moving my boys far away. I've only just started getting to know them again. And I don't really want to drive a good brain out of the Company either."

She smiled gently, "Let it go. There's nothing you can do anyway. Shit happens."

I was slightly shocked hearing that phrase from her, I guess it showed on my face, because she continued, "Shit happens to all of us sometime. It's just that this is your bit of shit and it's happening now."

I smiled weakly, "I guess you're right." 



Back to Bristol Ch. 05



I had quite a good weekend. I was beginning to let my hatred of Peter Davies die within me, I guess. I still wasn't happy with him. I still believed that he was an immoral little shit. But maybe I got it back into proportion. There are plenty of immoral little shits in this world, and I would never claim that I was as pure as the driven snow.

On Sunday I brought the boys back to my little flat, and I cooked. Well I followed the instructions on the packets, but it was a fairly healthy good meal. The boys seemed really relaxed, and never seemed to question their lifestyle. I guess a lot of their school friends are in similar positions these days. I did start discussing school, and how happy they were and how well they were doing. I was beginning to wonder if I might pay for private education for them, I could easily afford it. I guess I'll have to talk to Molly about it sometime.

It was on Monday evening in the office that things took another turn. I'd noticed that I was beginning to drift into a bad habit of taking too much paperwork home with me. So, I decided that I'd stay in the office until about six thirty or even seven o'clock, and read some there, but then go home with an empty briefcase.

It must have been sometime after six o'clock, Carole had left, and I was sitting at my desk, just writing notes in the margin of a memo when I heard someone coming down the corridor towards my office. 

Piers McBaine came through my door. "You bastard! You fucking bastard!" 

I stood up and waved him to sit on a sofa. Although he was defamatory in his language, I could see that his eyes were sad rather than angry. I went over and poured us both a whisky, handed him one and sat down in my armchair.

He took the glass, "Whisky? In the office?"

"I keep it especially for people who come through my door calling me a fucking bastard. I get through quite a lot of it." I smiled.

His face softened, and he smiled, "Somehow I doubt that."

We sat and looked at each other for a long moment, "Well, are you going to tell me, or do I have to guess?" I asked.

"You'll guess it's about Peter Davies, and the other bit you know."

"Still, tell me."

"He was a sexual predator on attractive women. Your wife was the last in the line." He said it as a matter of fact, rather tersely.

I sipped my whisky, he sipped his, and then looked at his glass, "Lowland?" He looked at me and smiled, "Glenkinchie I think. Good choice."

"I shan't challenge you in a whisky tasting competition."

"Years of practice. But I need a few more years, then I might get to be good at it." He laughed.

I laughed and the atmosphere relaxed, "So tell me, how did you come to this expected conclusion?"

He looked at me, "You knew I would, you set me up. You knew I wouldn't be able to leave it alone, I'd have to know the truth. I'm a researcher, it's what I do."

I shrugged my shoulders, "I let people play to their strengths. I'm a managing director, it's what I do."

He smiled, "Bastard!" We both smiled, "Well, Peter was so guarded about the start of his affair with Molly, so I decided that I had to get him very relaxed if he was to tell me anything."

"Pissed you mean?"

"Yes. I know that Peter can hold his liquor well, but I also know that I can hold mine better. So I told him that I wanted to talk about a lot of Abbey business, off the record, out of the office. I suggested that I'd buy him dinner at the George after Friday drinks, and taxis home. Actually, I think he got Molly to give him a lift in on Friday morning, so he was prepared. Maybe he's being feeling a bit insecure, and was looking forward to a boozy dinner with his boss."

"When he would feel wanted and relaxed."

"Exactly, so after two or three rounds downstairs, I took him upstairs to the restaurant. And we had a bottle of wine with the meal. And then a second bottle. But we did talk, nothing but Abbey business. In fact it was a good talk, we cleared up quite a few genuine issues. Then I ordered a third bottle, and we were both fairly relaxed by then. It was getting late, and they wanted to close the restaurant, but we are so well known there that they just left us to it, in a deserted dining room."

"Go on."

"Well I remarked that I was fairly drunk, and that Jeanette would be annoyed with me. And, as drunks do, I suddenly went off into a story about Jeanette. About the moment when I knew, really knew, that I was in love with her. We'd been going out for about eighteen months, and we were in London on a beautiful summer Sunday. We went to Hyde Park and took a rowing boat out on the Serpentine. Well Jeanette, being an independent sort of a girl, insisted on rowing. And she was throwing up so much spray that I was getting soaked sitting in the back of the boat. But it was then that I knew that I just had to spend the rest of my life with this girl, that I loved her. We got engaged about a month later."

"And Peter had to reply."

"Exactly, I asked him when he knew that Molly was the one. And he said, it happened a lot earlier in the relationship. He had been 'working' on Molly for a couple of months, and at last after a lovely lunch, he had got her back to his flat. He had a very smart flat down by the harbourside in those days. And he said he got her to bed for the first time, and they made love. Well, afterwards, she had to get dressed and leave, but he just lay in the bed and knew that he'd met the one for him."

"So, up until he'd seduced her, he didn't love her." I said bitterly.

"I asked: But what about before? And he said he was just busy working on getting into her pants, as he put it. So I asked, well what did you see in her when you first met? And he said with a leer, 'Well you know what I was like in those days, Piers.' I knew I just had to leave, otherwise there would have been a very drunken row very quickly after that."

"Point proven, and from his own lips." I said, vindicated.

"He might argue that it was love at first sight, that he just didn't know it. I think something along those lines is his usual, sober version." Piers observed, taking a sip of his whisky.

I added wryly, "And it doesn't explain why Molly let it happen."

Piers nodded, "No it doesn't. And that does lead me back to Jeanette."

I looked at him and waited for him to continue.

"Jeanette was in bed when I got back, which was probably as well. But on Saturday we talked. You have to understand, Jeanette is a daughter of the manse; her father was a Presbyterian minister. She was brought up with a pretty strict moral code, and now she is so upset with Peter. And I think you made a big impression on her."

"It was the flowers." I said deprecatingly.

"I think it was the sad look in your eyes when you talk about the divorce. And the love in your eyes when you talk about your boys." He paused, "But anyway, she has had a lot of doubts about Molly in all of this, especially since that lunch with her. I think she's been holding it in for my sake. Well now, she doesn't want anything to do with either of them."

"That's sad." I said, and I meant it.

"Well, maybe she'll get over it in time. But, we were meant to be having Peter and Molly to dinner this coming Saturday. So this morning I had to have a very unpleasant interview with Peter, and tell him that they are no longer welcome."

"I'm sorry for you."

"So you should be. My knowing that he was someone who would spark the destruction of a family is not what I want to know about my deputy. And I've got to work with him. That's why I'm over here this afternoon. I've been talking about it to Neil in Personnel."

"And what did he say?"

"Personally, I don't think he liked it very much. But he reminded me that I have to find a way of working with him. We can't sack him, he's done nothing illegal. I just don't know how we can get along, and unless Jeanette eases up a bit, I'll be getting hard comments at home. I'll be in the middle."

"I'm sorry. I really am. But Neil's right."

We paused, then he smiled, "Well, I'll live. You must come over to dinner again. Jeanette is even more anxious to see you again now."

After Piers left, I sat in my office thinking things over. I don't know what I felt. I was vindicated, but what good did it do me? Molly must have been totally infatuated by him. In some ways it seemed rather sad that she'd fallen in love with someone who had such dubious morals towards others. I went home feeling slightly deflated.

On Tuesday evening, as I was walking along the street towards a café where I was becoming a regular, Molly phoned me. 

"I was wondering if we could meet, sometime soon, please Chris."

I wondered what about, and wondered if I was going to be accused of breaking them up with Piers and Jeanette, another thing I'd done wrong.

"Sure. When were you thinking of?"

"Any chance of a lunch? I'll pay."

"You don't need to do that, I'll happily pay, but I haven't got my diary on me for a weekday lunch. Carole tends to keep it. From memory I think Friday is clear, but I'll have to check in the morning."

"I'll phone you in the office in the morning. Is that OK?"

"Of course it is. Just in case I'm not there, I'll tell Carole to expect your call. Do I get a clue as to what it is about?"

"No, but there is something I need to say, but I'll say it when I see you. But try to leave plenty of time, so that we can relax and talk."

"OK. Speak to you in the morning."

Afterwards, I thought: Well, at least it'll give me a chance to sound her out on private education for the boys.

The next morning, I beat Carole into the office, but Myra was waiting to see me. I waved her into my office and we sat comfortably. She was telling me about the argument that was going on between Franks and ITI HQ as to who was going to pay for the new ITI accounting systems. The Franks team argued they were being imposed by HQ, and should be part of the takeover costs. HQ argued they were improving the current systems and should be borne by Franks. 

As we were speaking I heard Carole arrive, and I excused myself from Myra.

I went out to Carole's desk, closing my own office door behind me. "What does the diary look like for Friday?"

"Ah! I've been meaning to talk to you about that. Stephen Hobbs has been on the phone, he wants to know if you'll go to their Planning Meeting in Exeter on Friday."

"Is there anything else in the diary?"

"No. I couldn't put anything else in if you were going to be in Exeter all day."

"Well, phone Stephen and say OK, but only for a short morning. Molly phoned me last night, she wants to see me for lunch one day, and I wondered about Friday."

Carole looked at me, "And what's that about, or shouldn't I ask?"

"I suspect she wants to knock seven bells out of me, because she probably blames me that Piers McBaine and her Peter aren't talking." 

I then went on to give her a summary of Piers's news from Monday. At the end, all she said was, "Well, I guess you weren't surprise. And it's hardly your fault that Piers doesn't like the way Peter Davies behaved."

I then continued with trying to sort out Friday, "If Molly phones, tell her that I'll pick her up for lunch at twelve thirty at the hospital. And afterwards, I'll come back here, assuming that she's not actually put me into the hospital. But I may stay out all afternoon anyway, Molly said she may take some time." 

I turned to go back to Myra, with a final request, "I've got Myra in there. Any chance of some coffee for us both?" 

About an hour later I was still talking to Myra, and enjoying the glimpses I was getting down her blouse, as one button seemed to have come undone, when Carole came in. She brought us a second tray of coffee.

But then Carole looked at me, "I can confirm that Exeter is expecting you just for the morning on Friday. And I've sorted out your lunch. Your guest is coming here for you to go out, at one o'clock."

I smiled at her discretion. "Thanks."

I turned to Myra. "I'm going to Exeter on Friday for their Progress Meeting. Any chance you can join me, and we can start the ball rolling on all the work we've got to do down there in incorporating them into ITI?

Myra looked doubtful, "I've got a lunch up here on Friday. And it may drift into the afternoon..."

"That's fine. I've got to be back for lunch as well. So meet me here at 7:30, and we'll go down in my car, and I can bring you back as well. And we can finish this conversation in the car. How's that?"

"OK" she said, and started tidying her papers.

Later, as I left my office, I stopped at Carole's desk, "Thanks for sorting out Molly. Friday looks very promising, I'm taking Myra down to Exeter for the morning to get her started down there." I smiled, "My two favourite women in one day. One may be my future, and one is definitely my past."

"You fancy Myra? Mmmm, good taste!" was all she said.

On Friday morning Myra was standing just inside the main entrance, and as I pulled up she came out. She was wearing a suit, made up of a long jacket and a short skirt. Those legs were going to be something to admire as we drove along.

The conversation going down to Exeter was all business, a sort of informal progress meeting. I asked if she'd done anything about getting a revaluation of Marston Abbey. "That's why I have to get back, I have lunch with the Planning Officer for the local Council, and an architect that is liked and trusted by the Council." In fact she was making good progress on all the projects that she had under her wing.

The meetings at Franks Engineering went well. I really like Stephen Hobbs, he is very professional, intelligent and quick on the uptake. His whole team are a very likeable bunch, and although we got through a lot of work in the morning, we also laughed a lot.

The journey back was a lot more relaxed. Myra and myself naturally chatted about the Exeter operation on the way back. Both of us were not surprised that TDF had bought them, but we were surprised that the Exeter company was willing to be bought. They had a tidy, profitable operation down there. When business topics were exhausted, Myra and myself just generally chatted. A bit of HQ gossip, world affairs, today's headlines, anything and everything. We really were getting on well. I considered pushing for a date at the weekend, but decided that it was better to write the morning off as a confidence building exercise. There'll be time to pounce later.

Soon we were back at the factory, and I found Molly waiting for me, sitting on the sofa in Carole's office. She stood up as I arrived, I was hit by how nice she looked. Her dress was deep purple wool, pleasantly above the knee and with just an intriguing amount of cleavage showing. She was wearing the pearl necklace that I'd given her on her twenty-first. I kissed her on her cheek and could smell that perfume again. I politely checked that she knew Carole, which was totally unnecessary. 

"Just let me dump these papers on my desk.." I said and went into my office.

"Gosh! It's nice in here." She had followed me in, "I saw it once when it was Henri Bauer's office. It was so stark."

I smiled, "I think it's an improvement, but it is really down to Carole."

On the way out I stopped for a word with Carole, "Anything I need to know about?"

"Nothing urgent. Have a nice lunch, and if you don't make it back, well have a nice weekend."

As we sat in the car, we talked about nice, safe, neutral things, amongst which I sang Carole's praises. I was feeling good and pretty relaxed, I'd had a good morning, I was pretty certain I was on track with Myra; it was Friday on what had been a pretty good week overall and I was beginning to feel confidant about running the Company; Peter Davies had got a bit of a comeuppance; it was a lovely spring day and the world was waking up from winter; and I was going to lunch with an attractive woman who had obviously dressed to impress me. OK, there were some question marks and shadows in my life, may be even in this lunch, but things were looking up.

I suggested that I park near the Bristol Old Vic as there were plenty of restaurants in the area, and we could easily find one. I was thinking of going back to that Italian place with the lime green frontage that Keith had introduced me to on my first Sunday. It was relaxed, friendly place, and I knew that Molly loved Italian food.

As we walked up King Street, I began to realise that Molly wasn't anywhere near as relaxed as I was. I began to feel that I was about to get balled out for Peter's problems, and she was building up to give it to me. I asked what she fancied to eat, and she told me that I could choose, so when I got to the lime green monstrosity I started to head her towards the door.

It was as if Molly had a panic attack. Suddenly her face drained of colour, "No, not there. Please not there."

"OK, OK. We'll choose somewhere else. How about that one over the road?" 

She seemed to be looking at me with deep suspicion, but I didn't know why, "Yes, anywhere." She answered, sounding relieved.

So we went over the road. It was nice enough, slightly classier if anything than my choice, and was another Italian. Once we were settled at our table, I had to ask, "What's wrong with the one over the road?"

She looked at me, still seeming to search my face for something, "Nothing. I don't particularly like it, that's all, but Peter likes to take me there. Did you know that?"

"How could I?" I could understand now, if she is well known as Peter's wife over the road, I doubted that she wanted to be seen lunching with another man in there.

She smiled, and seemed to relax. I asked her what she would like to drink, and she asked for a gin and tonic. I ordered a bottle of red wine, excusing myself that I was driving, so I'd stick to a couple of glasses of wine. That led me to ask how she got to the factory, was her car parked there? No, she'd come in by taxi, so that she didn't have to go back there after we've finished.

She opened the conversation once the drinks had arrived, "How are you getting on with the boys? They loved going to the rugby."

"Good. You've done a great job in my absence. I haven't really had one awkward moment." I paused, and smiled, "Well maybe a couple, but only because I don't know them as well as I should. Nothing that was their fault."

"They talk about you all the time, especially to Ralph and Susan apparently. They've obviously missed you from their lives. You were very important to them. And you were a good Dad before ...." Her voice began to break for a second. But she paused and took a sip of her cocktail, "I remember you were such a good Dad for the week before we broke up. You were such a good Dad and I was wracked with guilt because of Peter..." Again, she faltered.

I picked up her theme, "I was only putting in a special effort because I was feeling guilty that I'd neglected you all. I guess I had..." Emotion is catching, I found.

We stared at each other in silence. I took a positive decision not to go over old ground, let's get through this lunch without argument or emotion, it should be an opportunity to build a new relationship.

She must have had similar thoughts, because she changed subject, "Have you heard, Peter and Piers McBaine have fallen out?" 

I welcomed a change of subject, but not to this one, "I had heard." I answered cautiously.

"Yes, Peter won't really tell me what about. He says it's about morals or ethics or something, and it all happened a long time ago, but although he has changed his ideas since then, he doesn't regret a thing."

I shrugged my shoulders, I certainly wasn't going to enlighten her.

She continued, without me having to say anything, "My guess is that it's something that's upset Jeanette McBaine. Peter and her are always having heated arguments about ethics, especially in scientific research. I don't think they agree on anything. But I'm a bit surprised that Piers has got involved, he's normally a bit like me and stays well out of it."




Back to Bristol Ch. 05



"That maybe difficult if Jeanette's upset." I cautiously observed.

"Well Peter has strong views. He's on the liberal wing. He believes passionately in the woman's right to choose; on a person's right to die when they don't want to go on living, living wills and all that. And he's very pro embryo and stem cell research."

I began to feel more confidant, "Well, other people can have different views. I've met Jeanette, but we didn't talk about that sort of thing."

"Oh, you've met her, have you? Of course, Piers went with you to the rugby. No wonder she was so interested in you when I had lunch with her the other day. She was nice enough with me, then. So whatever it is that's upset them, it's cropped up since. My guess is that they came across some old scientific journal where Peter had written something that upsets them now, and even he's changed his mind since. I guess it'll blow over."

If that's what she wants to think, well far be it from me...... "I hope so, I wouldn't like to hear that you've lost a friend just because of something Peter did."

"Thank you," she paused and suddenly looked very nervous, "Chris..." again she paused, a long pause and I waited, and suddenly she picked up the menu card, "Let's order."

While we waited for our food to arrive, I observed, "I see Peter's never convinced you to have your ears pierced. I never could."

She smiled, "Have you gone mad? There's no way I'm gong to have anything like that done. Actually, Peter has never mentioned it. He has suggested that I have some therapy to get me over my phobia, but it really isn't a problem. It doesn't interfere with my life, so I'm happy to live with it."

I smiled, "I always wanted to buy you diamond earrings. I don't know why, it was just a fancy of mine, probably because I couldn't really afford them."

"Yes, we were a bit pushed for cash in those early years, weren't we?"

That sounded a bit like dangerous reminiscing again, but I was saved by our food turning up.

While we were eating I raised the idea of privately educating the boys. First, I gently suggested that maybe they could go away to public school when they got to be thirteen. I didn't plunge in with taking them away from their current school to send them to a private preparatory, although Bristol has a good number of those.

Molly was far from against the idea. She did say that Susan would have a problem with it, something that didn't surprise me after my chat with Ralph of a couple of weeks ago. 

In the end we agreed that I could make some enquiries of schools, and she would think about it. We would talk again before we said anything to the boys.

We seemed to be a lot more comfortable after that, we were laughing and joking, and she was smiling a lot. I liked that, I always thought that Molly had a special smile.

Then she threatened to spoil it all again, "Chris I wanted to say that when we split up, I didn't say some things that I should have..."

I headed her off at the pass, "Well, it was all a bit emotional, I guess that was inevitable. Given my time over again, I certainly wouldn't have had us break up like that."

She smiled, "How would you have had us break up?"

I didn't answer with the glib reply that I wouldn't have broken up at all, instead I let fly with my romantic imagination, "Oh, I think I would make love to you one last time. In a big bedroom, with curtains gently blowing in a summer breeze. And it would be a big, soft feather bed, all in white. And we would make love, softly and gently, we were good at doing that." I paused to look into her eyes, and to smile, "And afterwards, you would fall asleep, safe and looking beautiful. And the room would be lit by soft pink rays of a setting sun. And I would slip out from under the covers and steal away."

She smiled softly, and there was a tear in her eyes. "I would have been so sad when I woke up and you were gone..."

I put my hand out, across the table, and squeezed hers. We stared into each others eyes, I don't know what she was looking for, I don't even know what I was looking for.

I decided to break the spell before it became embarrassing, "Tell me about your new house, are you pleased with it?"

She sighed, "Yes, it's one of six built in an architecturally designed concept. Doesn't that sound impressive? Actually it means that there are no gardens, it's six houses laid out around an entrance drive, with open grass and trees all around. It's also very eco-friendly, solar panels and heavy insulation, the rainwater is collected, that sort of thing. There's visitor's parking as you come off the main road, you're meant to walk in, and we get garages away from the main site. Peter likes it, he's very big on doing our bit to save the planet."

I smiled, "So am I."

She laughed, "Says he who drives a bloody great Jag."

As our coffee arrived, I changed the subject again, "How are the boys treating Peter these days? I have to admit I haven't raised the subject that they shouldn't get at him, it's still on my list of things to do."

She smiled, "No better. They enjoy taunting him. They've taken to calling him Elsie, any ideas why?"

I stirred my coffee and tried to think of some significance in Elsie. I couldn't think of a thing. I sipped my coffee and looked up at her. "No idea, I give up."

"I can't think of anything. I rather hoped that it was something that they'd learnt from you."

I didn't like that, "Not from me. I wouldn't give them ideas on how to upset your husband. I don't do that." I looked at her, full in the eyes, "I've always respected that you chose him, and I've never done anything to put him down in the boys eyes."

"No, sorry, I know you haven't." She gave a little laugh, "It isn't the same the other way around. The boys know that they are really rattling him by talking about you. That's why I wondered if there was some connection between you and Elsie."

"Sorry, I can't help you."

We both finished our coffees, and I suggested that I pay. She took the opportunity to go to the Ladies. Having paid, I looked at my watch, it was gone half past two. I suddenly realised that Molly had asked for this meeting, and I wasn't aware of what she wanted to talk about, I hadn't spotted anything significant in the conversation. I did notice, somewhat late, that Peter apparently hadn't mentioned his visit to my office, I wondered why?

I thought it might be a good idea to give her a little longer to say whatever it was that was on her mind. So when she came out of the Ladies, I stood and she came straight up to me and kissed me on the cheek. She'd obviously refreshed her perfume, because I got a full, sentimental whiff. 

"Thank you, Chris, for a lovely lunch."

"Thank you. Look why don't I give you a lift home? You heard Carole, she isn't really expecting me back, so I'm not worried about time."

She smiled a really radiant smile, "Thank you, that would be lovely."

As we walked back to my car, she held my arm with both her hands, one arm linked around mine, but her other hand right across her body so that she could rest it on my arm. Odd, I thought, going to lunch she was scared to go into a restaurant where she might be recognised, coming back from lunch she's holding me in what some might see as affection.

When we got to the car, I opened her door, and I got a good flash of leg. She's wearing stockings! Lucky Peter, I thought. She only wore stockings for me on special occasions. 

Once I was in the car, she settled, very slightly sitting sideways and with her legs towards me. Her skirt had ridden up a bit, the view was of as much leg as Myra had been showing earlier.

I smiled, "You'll have to direct me, I don't actually know how to get to your place."

She sat there giving me directions as necessary, but said little more. But her legs were really beginning to catch my eye and my imagination. What is she playing at? I'd had signals that she was playing to catch me, but that is neither logical nor likely. Everything could be innocent, especially if lover boy Peter had convinced his wife of four years to dress a little sexier. Maybe it was my thoughts about Myra this morning that are making me see things now.

And then there was that she had said she wanted to talk to me about something. No, it was that she wanted to tell me something. Maybe that something was to do with work, but the breakdown between Peter and Piers might have changed that. But she'd only called me after Peter and Piers had had their bust up. These ideas didn't make sense.

None of this was making any sense. I was reading too much into everything. It must just be my imagination. 

We were now approaching the outer suburbs, and suddenly she said "Turn right in here." It was a small driveway, "And park on the Visitors area on the left. Sorry, but if you park by our house you can guarantee that one of the neighbours will complain that I let an alien car in. You will disturb the tranquillity of the living environment." She glanced sideways at me and smiled, "Don't say it!"

We got out of the car and Molly led the way through some bushes on a simple path, lit at night by what looked like small solar lights along the edge of the paving. 

We suddenly came out of the bushes onto what was a large green lawn, with six houses placed on it at various angles to the small driveway. Molly led me to the second house.

She turned to me, "Would you like to come in for another cup of coffee, and see where the boys actually live."

I guess my doubt showed in my face, "I'm not sure that's a good idea, Molly. I'd love to, but others might misinterpret it.

"Don't be silly. If you're worried about Peter, he won't be home for hours yet. Come on."

She took hold of my hand, and led me onto their porch. Her touch was electric, taking me straight back to my thoughts in the car.

As she found her keys I looked around. What I would think the architect meant to be a garage was slightly separate to the main house, but its rear came up to one side of us and there was a door that opened onto the porch. I was wondering what it could be. 

Molly must have noticed, "Obviously, in the original design they were meant to be garages. But then some bright spark decided to put the garages down by the main road. Some people have converted that space to be a granny annexe, others have it as a home office, and one person has it as a workshop where they are building their own boat. For us, it was fitted as a guest suite, but we use the main room as a home gym, and the smaller room is the boys' playroom. Myself and Peter have had to promise never to go in their bit, it is totally theirs. I send in Maria, our cleaning lady, about once a month to keep it basically hygienic, but I honour my promise. But you haven't promised, you could take a look, they're your sons. And you can tell me what its like."

I looked at her, and she nodded her head in the direction of the door. I opened it and went in, and ignoring the gym equipment, I opened the second door. It was a chaos of untidy toys. On the wall was a pinboard. It was half covered in photographs of myself, Molly and the two boys, all of us on what turned out to be our last holiday together. Little did I know then what would follow eight months later.

There was a pile of children's books and magazines. Halfway down the pile, the quality of the volumes seemed to change. I pulled out a magazine from this middle section. It was a Penthouse, about five years old. I put it back.

I turned around. There was a blackboard fixed to the door wall. I read the scribbling, laughed, and went and called for Molly. 

"You should break your promise and come in here. It'll solve the mystery of Elsie."

She looked dubious, but she followed me in. I pointed to the blackboard. On it was written: Little Cock, this was written three times. The L and the C were underlined.

I looked at Molly to see if she'd registered, and then explained, "Little Cock. L - C. Elsie. Mystery solved." For a seven and an eight year old, I thought it was quite clever as a piece of wordplay. I was quite proud of my sons. 

Molly was less pleased, "But he isn't." 

I looked at her.

"He isn't. He's a bit smaller than you. He's average." She said, rather indignantly.

"If he's a little smaller than me, and he's average. Then I'm ..."

"Conceited." She said with a smile. "How am I going to tell him? Well, I'm not."

"It's only playground humour. It's rather clever for boys of their age." I said. It didn't seem to me to be a major issue.

She looked at me, and appeared to be questioning something. But then something changed her mind, and suddenly she looked determined "Well it won't matter anyway. Come on, let's get that coffee." And she led the way into their kitchen.

I stood there whilst she set about making a couple of mugs of coffee, just leaning against the wall and watching her. What is it about certain girls, about sexual attraction, I couldn't help but to compare her to Helene. On all factual scores Helene would have won hands down, but Molly was ten times more attractive. It was the way she moved, the way she dressed, the look in her eyes, the easy smile, just so many things. 

She glanced over at me, and smiled. "Why don't you look round. You wanted to see where the boys actually live."

"Are you sure you don't mind? I don't want to seem nosey."

"Go on...... And be nosey."

I left the kitchen and opened another door. It was their lounge. I was a perfectly pleasant, middle class suburban lounge. I noticed a couple of pieces that had come from mine and Molly's old home, but I wasn't surprised, they were small items that I knew Molly particularly liked.

Next I went into their dining room. I wasn't expecting a time warp. It was walking into mine and Molly's dining room of five years ago. Every stick of furniture had been chosen and bought by us. Even the pictures on the walls were ones that had hung in our dining room, in fact the walls themselves were the same colour as we'd chosen for our house back then. A wave of mixed emotions hit me. I sat down on a chair at the table, my old chair at the head of the table. Arguments, hurt, anger, love, anguish, sadness, guilt, all five years old, washed over me. 

I was sitting there, staring into space, when suddenly Molly was in front of me. I looked up at her, she smiled, her face was soft, with love in her eyes, or that's what my illusion told me.

"What are you doing, sitting in here? Have you looked at the boys' bedrooms?"

"No. I didn't like to go upstairs."

"I told you: no worries. Come on."

And I followed those legs up the stairs. On the landing, she pointed to two doors, "Those are the boys' rooms."

I went in to the first one, it was obviously Jamie's. I tried to spot why I knew that, but I couldn't actually see a thing that I could identify as Jamie's. I went next door, again it was instantly recognisable as Ben's room, although this time I could see a couple of things that I knew were his. 

I came out of Ben's room, and looked at Molly, she was standing beside an open door to one of the other bedrooms. The light was behind her, she looked beautiful. My emotions were in turmoil, I smiled ironically at myself; I should never have come into this house.

I stepped towards Molly, as I got close to her, she moved right up to me. She put her arms up on my shoulders, either side of my neck. And then she leant in, pulled me down to her and kissed me. Full, open lips, a loving kiss, squarely on my lips. I couldn't help but respond, and I felt my cock twitch.

She broke the kiss and looked sideways into the open bedroom. It was obviously the master bedroom, Molly's and Peter's.

"I'm sorry, it's not all white, and in March I don't think we're going to get pink sunlight, but please, Chris. I need you."

I just looked at her, she seemed so beautiful, it all felt so safe after four years of being by myself. Suddenly I felt that, even with Helene, for four years I'd been by myself. Should I run? Should I stay?

"Please, Chris, just this once. Please. Just once. Never again for as long as I'm with Peter. But just this once, please."

I found my voice, "You wanted to talk, not this."

"Now I want this. We'll talk afterwards."

Suddenly my mind was made up. I took her in my arms and kissed her, with every ounce of passion that had remained dormant for four years. 

My hands found the zip down the back of her dress. I unzipped her, and slipped it off her shoulders. Unfortunately, it was a long sleeved dress, and it didn't just fall away like dresses do in the movies. But it did allow me to unclip her bra. It was a black bra, all lace and very sexy. She was beginning to be muddled in a pile of loosened clothes. 

"Come on." She pulled me into the bedroom. "Let's undress ourselves, and meet in bed. I want you so much, please don't let's waste time, I need you now."

I was standing at the end of the bed, undressing as fast as I could. She was at one side, undressing herself. She was a lot quicker than me because she had hardly got her bra off before she slipped into the bed, and seemed to slip under the quilt. A moment later, as I was finally taking off my last item, my shirt, she sat up, her breasts swinging above the quilt, and she was waving a little black thong in the air.

"Come on, my darling Chris. Now, please."

I slipped into the bed next to her, and for the first time in four years I held the love of my life. As our legs entwined, I felt her stockings, she had kept them on. It felt strange, but erotic.

I kissed her on the lips, and then I moved down her body to hold and kiss her breasts. Having kissed each nipple and played with each nipple with my tongue, I started to kiss my way down her body, intending to tongue worship her pussy. She put her hands on my head, and guided me upwards, "No, just take me, I need you now, please."

I positioned myself between her legs, in good old missionary position, and my cock found her pussy. It slid into a wet welcoming world. She was so wet. For a moment my experiences of so many women in the intervening years went through my head, none had been as wet as this, except maybe for a couple of whores and I suspected them of surreptitiously using a lubricant. No woman had been in so much in need of me as Molly was then.

After a few minutes of gently stroking in and out, she started to roll me. She wanted me on my back, so that she could ride me. I rolled holding myself to her, and keeping her with me, and me inside her. And then she was on top. The quilt was around her, I couldn't see her lower body, but she drove herself with a frenzy. 

And then just as suddenly as she'd wanted to be on top, she was rolling sideways again. Soon we were back into the missionary position. 

I wasn't going to last much longer, I kissed her lips, her tongue allowing me total access to her mouth. When I lifted my head, she started saying, "Hold me, Chris........ Hold me........Please."

Without missing a stroke, I got my arms around her upper body, holding her tight to me, as I pounded into her. Suddenly she began to shake, and go rigid, "Oh, my God.....my darling Chris." Her pussy spasmed, holding my cock tight, and she orgasmed. I felt her flood onto my cock, and just as suddenly I was coming.

We lay together for several minutes, recovering, with me lying over her. Then I rolled off, giving her a final kiss on the lips. 

As I moved back from her, she followed me, holding herself close, and even taking one of my arms and putting it around herself, showing me that she wanted to be held.

We lay like this for a good ten minutes, with me thinking about my day. It had started with my admiring Myra's legs, and now, late in the afternoon, I was in a post-coital hug with my ex-wife. As my brain tried to grasp some meaning, some understanding of this, I idly kissed Molly's forehead with gentle little kisses. Her breathing slowed and steadied, I could feel her breath on my chin and neck. 




Back to Bristol Ch. 05



Then suddenly she stirred, raising herself and leaning right across me, I watched as she set the bedside alarm for 05:00. As she resumed her snuggled position, she kissed me on the lips, "I want to sleep in your arms, but that'll leave plenty of time for a shower and for us to talk." And she settled again, before turning over but still holding onto my arm. 

"But don't the boys need collecting from school?"

"No. Susan's collecting them. They'll stay there tonight."

We snuggled into a spoon position, with her holding onto my arm as it was draped over her. I lay there quietly, and soon Molly's breathing became even and steady as she fell asleep.

I tried moving my arm, but even in her sleep Molly just gripped me tighter. I lay there, still trying to understand, going over my lunch with Molly, looking for clues as to why I'd ended up in her bed, beyond the obvious conclusion that I was a randy man who had been feeling that way all day. But why had she suddenly invited me to be here?

I did have one naughty, idle thought: wouldn't it be a pity if Peter came home early! But then, I began to feel sleepy and I think I gently dozed.

I woke up suddenly, something had wakened me. I scrabbled backwards in my mind, trying to recapture the noise. It was outside, it sounded like a door closing, probably a neighbour. I wasn't totally relaxed in a strange bed in a strange house, simple things disturbed me. There it is again, this time I did here a door shut. I looked at the alarm clock beside the bed, it was 04:44. I lay there, listening, hardly daring to breathe.

Now there were footsteps on the stairs. Molly was still sleeping peacefully, but she had relaxed her grip on my arm, so that I could pull it back. I feigned sleep, but I heard the bedroom door open. And then I heard to strangled gasp.

I stirred, then there was an "Oh, Molly!" that was so full of anguish it was pitiful.

I stirred again and rolled over to lie on my back and open an eye. It was Peter, standing in the doorway ....no, leaning on the wall by the door. His face was white, his lips were quivering, and his eyes were wide open and staring. He was looking wide-eyed at the bed and its occupants, but he seemed focussed on Molly.

I groaned, "Oh, Fuck!"

Peter's eyes swivelled from Molly to briefly focus on me, "You!.....Chris!....You .... you bastard!"

Molly stirred, and then her eyes opened, she focused slowly, "Wha... Oh! Peter! What are you doing home so early?"

A reasonable question, I thought. But I also thought 'I shouldn't be here.' 

Suddenly I felt my whole thought processes shift, from problem to opportunity, I made a show of looking round, "You know what they say, two's company, three's a crowd. Well, we've done the two's company bit. I guess I should leave, I don't want you two to feel crowded."

I threw the quilt back, not only off my naked body, but half off Molly's as well. I wanted him to have no misunderstanding. I hoped he could see the wet patch on the sheets between us as well.

Peter, suddenly bent down and picked up a lacy black thong, he held it out to Molly, "I bought this set for you. You never wore it for me. You told me that only silly young sluts and prostitutes wear things like this." Every word he spoke had pain, humiliation and hurt in it.

I got out of bed. I needed to get dressed quickly. But I wanted to keep my eye on Peter, just in case he tried to take a pop at me. He had his glasses on, so I had hopes that he wouldn't turn violent, but I had to concede he was under some stress. I slipped my shorts and then trousers on. 

I risked glancing at Molly. She had pulled the quilt back over herself, but she was watching me. I couldn't read the look in her eyes. It was questioning I think, almost pleading, but I couldn't work it out, and she wasn't saying a word.

I slipped my shirt on, I didn't button it up, I just tucked it into my trousers. I picked up my socks from the floor, and stuffed them into my trouser pockets. I slipped my feet into my shoes and picked up my jacket and tie from a chair where I'd thrown them.

Peter was slumped, still shocked, against the wall. I noticed a tear rolling down one cheek. He was just staring at Molly, who was still looking at me, pleading with her eyes.

I stepped towards Peter. He slightly cringed, as if he was afraid of me. I leant into his face, and quietly, but clearly said, "Matthew 7:12"

I went down stairs and left.

'This is bloody stupid!' I thought, and I smiled wryly to myself. Here I am, the Managing Director of a major local company, and I'm putting on my socks and buttoning up my shirt in some suburban car park, having been caught in bed by the husband. It's a bloody farce!

Then I thought about the last few moments of the scene. I was quite proud of myself that I'd managed to think clearly, and I silently thanked The Old Man for teaching me some Bible quotes. Matthew 7:12, roughly translated as 'Do unto them as you would have yourself be done by.' Well, Peter did unto me, and now he's been done by! And it bloody hurts, doesn't it, Peter? 



Back to Bristol Ch. 06



Chapter 06

As I drove home through the traffic that was beginning to build up to the rush hour, I began to try to make sense of the whole afternoon. There were so many contradictory clues.

Molly had decided at some point that she was out to seduce me. I'm sure she led the way. OK, I didn't put up much of a fight, and maybe I should have done, but I'm sure she instigated it.

And what about the way she was dressed? At first, I thought she just dressed sexier these days. Maybe that was part of their marriage, he liked her dressed sexy all the time. But that contradicts his comment that she was wearing undies that he had wanted her to wear and she'd refused. But that didn't make sense, Molly loved sexy undies. OK she was a suburban housewife, mother and part-time dietician when she was my wife, and she didn't wear glamorous clothes all the time. Mainly it was chain store sensible, especially the undies. But I was always in trouble if at birthdays and Christmas there wasn't a present that couldn't be opened in front of friends and family. And she loved to wear them for me. So why wouldn't she be wearing them for him, if that's what he wanted?

And why today did he suddenly come home early? I know the Abbey usually works to five o'clock. And he, as a senior executive, would probably work on beyond that. I would guess that six o'clock was a more likely going home time, but he must have left at about four today. 

The whole bloody thing doesn't make sense!

And what was it she wanted to talk about? Nothing! She'd not said a word of anything that warranted having to have lunch with an ex-husband. 

I trawled through my mind. And a theory began to shape up. I can't claim I'm an innocent in the ways of the world, and I've certainly explored a few of the minor by-ways in my time. I know there is a bunch of guys out there who get off on being weak, wimp, cuckolded husbands, I've never come across any, but I know they're there. What if dear Peter is one of those, and Molly has taken the dominant wife role?

Then, I'm lined up as the fall-guy. Maybe for Peter and Molly I'm the ultimate fall-guy. She phones me up, invites me to lunch because she wants to talk about 'something', a something that never materialises. She warned me that she may take some time, I should take the afternoon off, and that we needed to relax. So far my theory holds good.

Then she gets me home, I have to admit, I volunteered for that bit, but she could easily have asked for a lift home. Otherwise, why didn't she use her own car to come into town?

She seduced me, and gets me into bed. And the sex wasn't that great. OK she seemed very wet and eager for it, but she would have been if she's been building up to this for several days. I remember that an afternoon in bed with Molly would last for hours, and we'd run the full gamut of positions and acts. Oral, both ways. Anal, sometimes. And vaginal, well that was guaranteed. But maybe this afternoon the act itself wasn't that important, just a necessary part of their game.

And then she keeps me there on the promise that we still haven't talked. And guess what? Peter comes home early! 

It all fits! 

By now I was home, and I chose to make myself a cup of tea before I go and shower. Even as I'm making it, and as I'm drinking it, I start to search for alternative solutions.

Well, the obvious one, I suppose, is that everything was innocent, and that in a wave of sentimental nostalgia Molly suddenly wanted to make love to me one more time. It fits some of the clues, but isn't as neat as my cuckolding wimp theory.

And I suppose there is a possibility that Peter and Molly's marriage isn't as happy as I've always assumed. But then, why not say so? No one has given me any indication that they're unhappy. In fact Peter visited my office precisely to tell me how much in love he was.

Neither of these possibilities explains him coming home early on this day of all days, nor that Molly doesn't wear sexy clothes for her man any more.

By the time I'd finish my cup of tea, I was beginning to feel that the cuckold wimp theory had to be the answer.

As I came out of my shower, another clue hit me. She said the boys were being collected from school by Susan, as if that was a special arrangement. But then they'd need some privacy after the cuckolding event for their follow-up, whatever that was, whatever their fetish was for nights like tonight. The whole scene had been planned, down to the fine detail.

And the Little Cock and Elsie story? Maybe the boys had picked up on some derogatory talk from their mother to their step-father. That would also fit the cuckold wimp theory.

But then I found a fly in the ointment! I remembered the look in Molly's eyes as I dressed and left. Surely she would have been looking at Peter with excitement? Not looking at me with pleading in her eyes.

But was it pleading? Maybe it was regret and sorrow at using me in their sick little game. God knows! I know all about regret and sorrow after the act. Just ask me how I felt when I left some brothel in my bad days. And I know Molly. I still believe that she's a decent person at heart, so shame and regret are pretty likely if she's been driven to play these sort of games.

Now that was the biggest fly in the ointment, that Molly was a decent person, and had shown no sign of any interest in these sort of games ever before. That just didn't fit with my theory.

As I sat eating my fish and chips in the local pub, I began to worry about the future of what I had thought of as a stable home where Jamie and Ben were growing up. Whatever their kinks, I was sure that Peter and certainly Molly were sensible parents, and they wouldn't expose the boys to anything bad. But what if this was the start of the break up of that happy home? What if one of my other theories was the truth? 

Well, I'm not sure how I would feel if I'd been party to the breaking up of a good marriage, and my boys' home. I guess the best thing I can do is to do nothing.

If Molly really did have problems, and had wanted to talk to me, then she still can. She knows where I work, and where I live, and she has my number. If they have problems now because of this incident, then it's better that I stay out of their way, and let them sort it out for themselves. And if I was just some pawn in their game, well I don't want to get further involved. It all adds up to a policy of do nothing.

By the time I went to bed, another thought had occurred to me: What was Peter going to be like at work on Monday? I threw that one around in my head for some time, but in the end, I decided he'd probably say nothing. If it was some weird sex game they were playing, then I doubt whether he wants it advertised. Equally, if it was a humiliating and horrid surprise for him, then I guess he'll keep quiet until he's decided what he's going to do about the marriage. That assumes, of course, that he will be at work on Monday, and not in some lawyer's office.

I did have a worry about him suing the Company. I guess that Managing Directors should keep their hands off employees' wives. But, in the unique circumstances, and under British law, I decided that he would have a weak case, if one at all.

On the Saturday, I felt very restless. So, I went and bought myself a bike. I thought that I could go cycling with Jamie and Ben as something to do on some weekends. I then went down to the motorists' supermarket on the retail park, and bought a cycle carrier. I am sure it was against all the rules, but the young lad who sold it to me was delighted to spend half an hour crawling all over a brand new XK, whilst he checked that the cycle rack could be easily mounted and dismounted on the tailgate. 

Even with doing all of that, my mind was still running over Friday afternoon and I was still curious as to the truth of Peter and Molly and Friday. Eventually it got the better of me, and I phoned Susan and Ralph's and asked if I could have the boys and I'd take them to see a film, and buy them a meal.

No one said a word about Molly or Peter when I collected Jamie and Ben. Ralph and Susan both opened the door, and just called the boys. When we were in the restaurant, I did try asking Jamie and Ben about their home life, and a bit about how Mummy treated Peter, but I got nowhere. I felt that I couldn't ask too many probing or leading questions without scarring young minds. And when I returned the boys, Ralph opened the door, gave me a big smile, asked us all if we'd enjoyed the film, and no word was spoken about anything being odd. I could only assume that neither Molly nor Peter had spoken to Ralph and Susan. I told him that I might take the boys out on their bikes on Sunday, but that I'd phone once we'd seen the weather in the morning.

I spent that Saturday evening on the internet, looking for a good cycle route on which to take the boys. I think I found one.

The weather on Sunday was fine, and I phoned Ralph to say I'd pick up the boys as usual at eleven o'clock, for our cycle ride. When I got there, Ralph was happy and cheerful, and helped me load the boys' bikes onto the carrier. It was obvious that he knew of nothing wrong.

The three of us had a good time. I was beginning to feel that my relationship to the boys was getting stronger. I really think they enjoyed themselves, and they happily joked with me that I'd not bought enough food for the picnic.

When we got back, Molly's car was on the drive, and my heart missed a beat. I was very nervous as to what was about to happen. Ralph was out in the garden, and he was exactly as he had been in the morning.

Ralph quietly said, "Molly's here. Do you want a word with her?"

"Has she said she wants to see me?"

"No, she's having a cup of tea in the kitchen with her Mother."

Ralph opened the front door, and I could see Molly sitting at the kitchen table, through the doorway at the far end of the hall. She turned and looked at me, but didn't seem to react. The boys pushed past me, running in with Ben shouting "Mummy! Mummy! Guess what we've been doing? We've been out cycling with Daddy!"

Molly turned on her chair to greet them. Then she stood and just stared at me down the length of the hallway as I stood at the open front door. I waited for her to say something, I just stood there, watching her. Eventually, she turned to talk to Jamie, and I got in my car and drove away. I'm sure it was all very meaningful and important, but I just didn't know what it meant.

The next morning, in the office, I was just refreshing myself on the issues for my first meeting when there was a knock on my open office door, it was Myra.

"Have you got a couple of minutes?" She asked, and I noted that she looked pleased with herself.

"Sure." I answered, putting down my papers and leaning back in my chair.

"It's just that I thought you'd like to know that I think we're onto something with the value of Marston Abbey."

I noted the 'we're' in that statement, but smiled and said "Good. You have news?"

"Well, you remember I was having lunch with the local planning guy? We met out at the George in Marston village, conveniently next door to the site. Well, he was far from adverse to the idea. In fact, I think he'd be quite pleased if as part of our scheme we could sell them a tiny bit of the land for improving that lousy junction just this side of the village. And if we could sell or give some land for low cost housing, then I reckon he would be a very happy man. And the architect loved the idea that we might build some purpose built research laboratories, still near the village. By the time lunch was over, we were all quite excited."

Suddenly something made sense, "And don't tell me, you all went over to the Abbey that very afternoon."

She looked surprised, "Yes, but how did you know?"

I ignored her question, "Did anyone else join you?"

"Yes, later the architect called up a developer he thought might be interested, and an agent who has been looking for somewhere to put a new hotel for one of the major chains, he wouldn't tell me which one. And the Council guy called up a local Councillor, just to make sure that that anything discussed was open and above board. But to start with it was just the three of us looking round."

"And all of you went and viewed the Abbey, tramping all over it, discussing your plans? And pissing off the staff, who were probably a tad upset that the place was being sold without any warning to them?"

For the first time, Myra suddenly looked worried. "I thought you told me that you would clear it with Dr McBaine."

"I did. I told him that we were revaluing the property for accounting purposes. And that if it was ever sold, it would be after thought and planning. I didn't tell him that a bunch of property developers would be crawling all over the place in the next few days, carving up a deal to suit themselves."

"Oh!"

"Oh, indeed. What was the staff reaction?"

"Well, Dr McBaine wasn't there. I got Peter Davies to show us over the building. The staff didn't seem too worried, although I did hear Peter Davies having his leg pulled a bit."

"How were they pulling his leg precisely?"

Myra began to study her shoes, and looked embarrassed, and spoke in a quiet voice, "A couple of them said that him screwing your wife was probably the cause. You were going to sell the whole lot, just to get rid of him." She paused before she urgently added, "But he laughed. He seemed to take it well. But when the others turned up, he seemed to just disappear. I think some of the comments got a bit more pointed then. Sorry."

I sighed, "OK, Myra. It was a genuine mistake. But a little more diplomacy next time, please."

So, Peter Davies coming home wasn't planned. He was pissed off, probably suspecting that I was going to shake up his world. He should have stayed at work, little did he know what awaited him at home; his world would have been less shaken if he'd stay at work! 

Well, it didn't explain everything. But my cuckold wimp theory was definitely weakened. I think my policy of doing nothing was still the best idea, especially if Peter and Molly were trying to put their marriage back together.

Myra would have got no further than the corridor outside Carole's room, when my phone rang, and Carole told me she had Piers McBaine on the line.

"Piers, what can I do for you on this Monday morning?" I decided that innocence was my best bet.

"Chris, I thought I ought to phone you and tell you about Friday afternoon."

"Go on."

"Well, I wasn't here, but I understand that Myra Hepsted turned up with a bunch of people, and Peter had to show them over the building. Apparently they were talking about it being turned into a hotel. And it didn't go down very well with some people here."

"I'm sorry. I can promise you that there are no such plans. Myra had lunch with some planners and developers. It got out of hand, and they got carried away. I've spoken to her, and told her off for her lack of diplomacy. Is there anything I can do to put peoples' minds at rest? Nothing is going to happen in the short term."

I heard Piers sigh, "To be honest it was probably a bit my fault. When I told them the place would get revalued, maybe I played it down a bit too much. I don't know about people coming in unannounced and talking about which wing would make the leisure centre, but I guess a team turning up to really look and measure up was a possibility, and I didn't warn anyone of that. But I'd like some warning next time."

"Point taken. Is there anything I can do to smooth it over?" I asked.

"No, it'll be alright. But I will quote you in a memo I'll put out."

"Then draft it up and show it to me first."

"OK. By the way, Peter has suddenly taken off. Maybe Friday afternoon got to him. But he phoned in this morning, and was apparently rather short with the receptionist. He is taking a couple of weeks off, and we can put it down to any damn thing we like, holiday, sick leave, he didn't give a damn."

"As you say, Friday afternoon may have got to him, but not just Myra. I had lunch with Molly on Friday, and she invited me back to their place afterwards, to see where Jamie and Ben actually live. I was there when Peter came home early, and I don't think he was very pleased to find me there." I thought that was all he needed to know.

"I doubt whether he would have been. Whether that's got anything to do with him suddenly taking leave I don't know. Maybe it's just some other family emergency."

"Well, ..... email me your draft memo." 

So, Peter has taken some time off work. Maybe to go away and think about his marriage? Or, to take Molly away on a romantic holiday where they can talk and put things back together? I don't know. What I do know is that Molly's behaviour on Friday is an even bigger mystery.

The rest of Monday and Tuesday passed without anything new happening, but on Wednesday morning I thought it was time to show Myra that I wasn't too upset with her, so I called her up to my office for a progress meeting on Franks Engineering. We were talking across my desk when Carole brought in a tray of coffee, which she was about to lay on my desk, when I asked that she put it on the coffee table, "We might as well sit comfortably" I explained, looking at Myra.

Myra started gathering her papers that she had spread in front of her when Carole asked, "Have you decided whether you're going to the RNIB dance on Saturday of next week? They've been on the phone, they want to sort out the seating plan. You'll be on top table of course, if you're going."

I looked up, and watched Carole going through animated mime of nodding her head towards Myra, who had her back turned. I couldn't help but laugh.

Myra suddenly looked up and round at Carole, with that sixth sense that warns all of us once in a while, "What?"

"It's Carole. She's playing matchmaker." I said, still laughing.

Myra looked round at me, and I explained, "I need a date for this Easter Ball, and Carole thinks it ought to be you."

"What Easter Ball?"

"Royal National Institute for the Blind's Easter Ball. Apparently we sponsor it, and I'm meant to go." I paused to look winningly hopeful, "Would you go with me, please?"

"I don't know...." Myra sounded very doubtful.

I interrupted quickly, "It is a sort of business do for us. Surely you could come on a date for business?" 

She still looked dubious, "Well ...........OK. Thank you." And she smiled.

I smiled back. "Thank you. I promise to be the perfect gentleman."

"Spoilsport!" She flirted back, then she had an afterthought, "If its for business, does that mean that I can buy a new dress on expenses?"

I laughed, "Don't push your luck." 

Carole left with a "There, that wasn't so difficult, was it?" I'm not sure whether it was aimed at Myra or me.

I spent Thursday and Friday in London, sometimes supporting the sales team in presentations for possible clients, and some of the time at HQ. I tried to get to see The Old Man, and late on Friday afternoon, Pamela phoned me to say that he invited me to dinner, with Frances, at their home. That was a rare honour. I rebooked my hotel for an extra night, and phoned Ralph that I wouldn't get to see the boys until Sunday.

The dinner with The Old Man and Frances went well. He, of course, wanted a report on how Franks was going, and I chatted honestly about my hopes of how we might improve profitability, but also pleading for extra funds for research. We needed more products, which meant more research as well as doing marketing deals with other foreign companies. Frances was more interested in my love life, she knew of Helene and wanted an update. But there was nothing really important or meaningful in that conversation.

On Sunday I collected the boys and it was Susan who opened the front door. She treated me with stony silence, there was no smile and certainly no polite words. I guess they know something is wrong with Molly's marriage, and that I'm involved. As far as Susan is concerned, I guess it's all my fault.




Back to Bristol Ch. 06



When I got back with the boys, it was Ralph who met me. He looked at me in silence for quite a while, then he said, "Cup of tea in the shed, I think." And he just led the way to the bottom of the garden, I followed, feeling rather like a naughty schoolboy following the headmaster back to his study, knowing that's where the caning would happen.

Ralph just set to work making a cup of tea, I watched him and waited. Eventually, he looked at me and said, "So what happened?"

"What has she told you?" I countered. I had no intention of saying more than Molly had told him.

He smiled, acknowledging my move, "Not a lot. Come to that, I'm not sure I want to know a lot." He sighed, "You had lunch with Molly. You took her back to their house and Peter came home early and found you and Molly in what she described as an embarrassing scene."

"Well, that pretty much covers it. He's had the week off work, I do know that."

"Did you plan it, or know that he'd come home early?" Ralph looked at me hard, "Peter thinks you planned it all as some form of revenge. And Molly thinks you might have done."

I smiled, "Well I guess he'd blame me. But No, I didn't plan a thing. I promise you, Ralph, I went to lunch with my ex-wife, at her invitation I might add, with only two things on my agenda. First, I wanted to talk about the boys education. And second, I had some vague hope that it might be the start of building some sort of friendly relationship with Molly, for the boys' sake. And no, I didn't plan anything, and No I didn't know that Peter would come home early."

Ralph looked at me, still suspicious, "Molly says you acted as if you had it all planned out when Peter turned up. That you quoted some Bible reference at him. Neither of them can remember what it was."

"Matthew, 7:12"

"Oh, I had hoped it was Luke 6:31"

"I think the Matthew version is: Whatever you wish that men would do to you, do so to them. But I think the two are much the same, Sermon on the Mount and all that."

Now he smiled, "Four years too late, but now you are fighting back."

"Good Heavens! No. I am not fighting back. He won, hands down. Cupid's little arrow was shot, and I lost a long time ago. But I couldn't resist reminding him that that's how it felt."

We stood staring at each other for a long moment, then the whistle sang on his kettle, and he made some tea.

I broke the silence, "You know your Bible quotes."

He smiled, "A childhood of Sunday School every week for years never leaves you. How about you?"

"A boss who can quote it at the drop of a hat. If you want to get ahead, you learn fast."

Again there was a pause, but it wasn't such an icy one. Then Ralph said, "You should tell Molly that you didn't plan it, why not go and see her?"

"No way, I'm not interfering more than I already have. Anyway, what's happened to them?"

"Peter's gone off to their little cottage in Wales, I think he inherited it from his Mother. They keep saying that Susan and myself should borrow it for a week, but we never do. Anyway, he's gone up there to think about things. She's at their house here."

I smiled, "Well I'll give him a better chance at putting things right than he ever gave me. When Molly first told me about Peter, I went and rented a little room for the week, just so that I could clear my head. When I came back the next week to talk about things, he'd spotted a marriage at its weakest, and had wined and dined her, or at least lunched her. By the time I got back my case was lost." I looked up at him, "I would have tried to put it right, but she was totally enamoured by then......"

"You should have tried anyway."

"There's no point in fighting a losing battle. I just gave her what she wanted, a divorce. And got on with my life." I smiled, "And it hasn't been so bad really. You get over these things."

"Talk to her."

"No way, they need space, time and privacy to put right whatever is wrong. Its bad enough that I've been part of a problem for them, they don't need me around."

He sighed, and we drank our tea in silence, except for one question from me, "I guess Susan blames me for all this?"

"Of course."

It was late morning on Tuesday that I came up from doing my bit at a sales presentation downstairs, as I approached Carole's office, I could see the most fabulous pair of legs with the highest pair of heels any woman could actually wear, sitting on the sofa opposite Carole's desk. There was only one person who had that good a pair of legs, and who would wear that high a heel, "Helene! What a lovely surprise. What are you doing here?"

I ushered her into my office, asking Carole for coffee and telling her to cancel my next meeting. As I shut the door, Helene flung her arms around my neck and kissed me full and hard on the lips. "I've missed you, Chris. I've missed you so much."

To be honest the next hour wasn't much fun. I guess Carole got a snapshot image of it when she came in with coffee, and it was the only time that I've known Carole to knock before she entered. Helene and myself were both sitting on the longer of the two sofas, both sitting sideways so that we see each others' eyes and faces. Put simply, she loved me and couldn't live without me, and wanted to come and live and work in Bristol. It was hard for me to try and express how important she was to me, how grateful I was to her, but there was no future for us. I just didn't love her enough. There were tears, and hugs, and more tears, and the offer of the greatest sex life ever, whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted it. But it all came to the same thing, there was no future. 

Eventually, I think she began to admit defeat. She dried her eyes and blew her nose one more time, and weakly smiled, "Well, you can't blame a girl for trying."

"I am so flattered." I smiled, and kissed her cheek gently.

"I think I need to repair my face. Where is there a bathroom?"

"Through that door." I pointed the way to my private bathroom. "Where are you going to go now?"

She shrugged her shoulders, "To the airport, I guess."

"Well, you go and smarten yourself up, and I'll see if I can get out of whatever I'm meant to be doing for lunch. If I can, then I'll drive you. If not, well I'll get you a taxi."

She smiled again, and headed for the bathroom. I watched her go. Sighed heavily. And then I went to see Carole.

As I opened my office door, I came face to face with Molly.

"Molly! You came to see me?"

"Yes. Sorry to disturb you, but suddenly I got the courage to come and see you." She smiled.

I saw Carole watching this from her desk.

"Well, I've got Helene here at the moment, and I was hoping to take her to lunch....."

I shouldn't have said it, I should have thought quicker, but I didn't. Molly looked shocked and then hurt. Without a word she just turned and left.

I turned to Carole, "What was that about? Did she say anything to you?"

"No. She just said she needed to speak to you. But she seemed very nervous, on edge, if you know what I mean."

I shook my head slowly, "Well, I can imagine that she might want to talk to me. I think she and Peter have problems at the moment."

There was a long silence, probably Carole waiting for me to explain a little more, which I wasn't going to do. Eventually, Carole broke it with "Well, you can't get away at lunchtime, not unless you want to upset Sir George Havers and his entourage from Oxfordshire Health waiting for you downstairs in Sales."

"Bugger! Well can you get a taxi for Helene. She needs to get back to the airport."

"Well I'll take her if you like."

"No you won't. You'd never be able to resist asking questions."

Carole straightened herself in her chair, "In the words of the delectable Myra - spoilsport!"

"It's not funny!"

Her smile fell away, "No, I don't expect it is." She said quietly, and she started to look up the number for a taxi.

I returned to my office and told Helene that I couldn't get out of my lunch, and I escorted her down to Reception. Her taxi turned up quite quickly, and I gave her a big hug and a kiss as we said goodbye at the bottom of the Reception steps. 

After lunch I went back to my office, Carole looked up as I came in and there was a kind concern in her eyes, "You are all right, aren't you Chris? I had a worry about you at lunch."

I smiled, "Yes, I'm fine. It wasn't fun with Helene, but I'd told her before that the answer was No. She just had to try one more time. And I don't know what Molly was all about." I paused for a moment, "I just wish that I could understand some of what's going on in my life."

Just then, Myra came through the door with a file. She looked at me and smiled, handing the file to Carole, "Just some figures on the transferring the Accounts' systems that he should see sometime."

I watched her walk away, she was wearing a fairly long but very tight skirt, and the view from the rear was entrancing. As I turned back I saw Carole smiling.

"What?" I asked, a bit indignant at getting caught.

Carole smiled, and there was a definite twinkle in her eyes, "Let me get this straight: Molly is the great love of your life, but she's history. But her new husband, Peter works for you and is upset that you've turned up. And they've got trouble which I assume is not totally unconnected with you being here. And Helene loves you and wants to marry you. But you fancy Myra."

I smiled, "Yes. Do you have a problem with that?"

"Rick will be pleased."

"I know I shouldn't ask, but why?"

"Well he's always going on at me for watching my soaps on the telly. He says the plots are all too far fetched." She paused and smiled at me, "I won't have to watch them now." 

I laughed, "Get on with your work."

Molly didn't come back, and I decided not to phone her. 

On Friday I saw Myra quite briefly. She asked if she could change for this Easter Ball at my place, to save her having to drive over from Bath in a full length dress. Of course I agreed.

On Saturday, I collected the boys for lunch from Ralph and Susan's. Susan answered the door, and even smiled at me. As the boys were climbing into the car, Ralph came over and said, "It looks like Peter and Molly are going to be alright. He's come back and he's taking her out tonight. So you missed your chance."

"I wasn't looking for a chance, Ralph. Molly tried to come and see me in the week, but we never talked."

"Well, maybe that's just as well." He said, patted my shoulder and went back to his gardening.

I did ask the boys how their week had been at home without Peter, but Jamie said, "Mummy said we weren't to talk about it with you."

I backed off immediately. She was right, the boys shouldn't be a conduit for gossip. 

I didn't really see Ralph or Susan when I took the boys back. Susan opened the door, the boys ran in and that was that.

I went home, made myself a cup of tea, and then showered and changed ready for the RNIB Easter Ball. 

Myra turned up on time, looking casual but sexy. She'd obviously had her hair done, and then she wiggled her fingers in front of my face, "You've had your nails done. It is only a local fund raiser, you know."

"And a first date." She corrected me.

I offered her a cup of tea, and then left her in my bedroom and bathroom.

A little under an hour later a vision in black and rich yellows and orange made an entrance from my bedroom. I looked, smiled and said "Wow!"

Her dress was totally strapless, the top looked as if it was some form of tight, soft corset, but from the hip down it was a very full skirt. She had an ornate and heavy necklace, dripping in yellow gems. And she had heavy drop earrings to match.

"What a wonderful necklace. It's Victorian isn't it, it looks old? They're citrines aren't they?" 

"You know your gemstones. I'll look forward to my birthday." She smiled, "Yes. It was my great grandmother's and it's come down to me. You are honoured, I very rarely wear them."

I stepped up to her, very close and put my arms around her, "I feel honoured. I'll have the most beautiful girl in the room on my arm, and she's a bejewelled jewel." And I leant in and kissed her.

She was very hesitant at first, but then she returned it with passion. Eventually we broke apart slightly, and she brought us down to earth, "Come on, we'll be late, and you are an honoured guest., you should be punctual."

I have to admit, I had some doubts about an Easter Ball for the blind. I wondered what sort of special arrangements there was going to be. I shouldn't have worried, it was a great evening. Of course, I was an honoured guest, as Myra had said, and we were treated like royalty. 

As we mingled with the crowd, I noticed that Franks staff seemed to be supporting the event well. I guess some of them, like me, were there as a matter of duty as much as pleasure, but there were plenty who must just be doing their charitable bit.

We were obviously to be seated at the top table, and Dennis Murrell, my problem production director, and his wife were also on our table. They seemed to be a well matched couple, she was as sour faced as he was old-fashioned. I was glad I was out of conversation range from them. 

It was after we had sat down to eat, and the room had fallen to a loud murmur of conversations, and everything seemed orderly for a while that I looked around the room and saw them. If myself and Myra were at Table 1, then Peter and Molly were sitting at about Table 20. They had their back to me, but I could still recognise Molly from the back. She was wearing a bright pink dress, but I thought there was a weariness about her shoulders. 

I tried making small talk with my neighbour as I thought about what I was going to do about Molly and Peter being here. It seemed odd thing to come here as an act of reconciliation, but I guessed that they probably booked this night some weeks ago, and getting dressed up for a formal big night might work. I wondered if I should go and say hello, even whether I should ask Molly for a dance. But, being a coward, and full of indecision, I decided to do nothing, let them find me - if they wanted to.

At the end of the meal, and before the dancing started, they decided to draw the raffle. I was invited to read out the winners, and Myra was invited to make the draw. What no one had warned me about was that I was also invited to make a speech. I sort of stumbled through it, with all the right words about how we were delighted to support the evening, and the company's fight to improve eyesight medical equipment. And a told a couple of decent jokes, that seemed to go down well.

When I came down off the stage a thought ran through my head that Peter and Molly couldn't be innocent of my presence now. But they never approached me.

I danced with Myra, and with a couple of the senior wives. I did see Peter and Molly dancing once, early on, but after that they seemed to disappear. Towards midnight I thought Myra was beginning to look a little weary. She had done so well being charming to everyone, and dancing with a lot of old men, I was very impressed and proud of her. I invited her onto the dance floor one more time, and suggested that maybe it was time for us to go home. She seemed relieved, and excused herself to go to the Ladies. When she returned we said our farewells and left.

In the car I praised her, for being so charming to all and sundry. "I'm very proud that I had such a charming companion tonight. Thank you."

She smiled cheekily, "You haven't had me yet." I smiled, she has a wonderfully naughty sense of humour. 

She interrupted my thoughts, "Anyway, I'm rather proud that I was invited. You were quite a hit you know. When I went to the Ladies, several women were talking about how charming and sexy you were."

"But I bet it all went quiet when they recognised you."

"Yes, except for one. She asked if we were a permanent item?"

"And what did you say?"

"I told her I was working on it. That was a bit naughty of me, but it didn't seem right to say this was our first date."

"What colour dress was she wearing?"

"Fuchsia. Why?"

"That's bright pink isn't it?"

She was hesitant as she answered, "Yes?"

I didn't explain. Let tomorrow look after itself. My main worry was that Jamie and Ben will want to know all about a new woman in my life.

As we drove back to my place I wondered how the evening should end, and how it would end, and how I wanted it to end. Well, I knew the answer to the last bit, in bed screwing like rabbits! 

Once we were indoors I went to pour myself a brandy, as a nightcap. "Would you like a coffee, or even a brandy if it won't put you over the limit."

I turned to hear her reply. She stepped close to me, and I leant over and took her in my arms and kissed her. 

"A brandy would be nice, and I guess I'll be OK to drive - in the morning." She whispered and kissed me again.

I felt myself slightly stiffen, in the backbone - not the crotch, that was already stiffening. 

She must have caught a look in my eyes, "Doubts?"

"Well, I am your boss."

"And I'm not some silly secretary, pissed at the office party. I know what I'm doing, and I think you'll still respect me in the morning."

"Yes, I will, but I'll still be your boss in the morning as well."

She kissed me again, "I like you and trust you, and because you have doubts is precisely why I know it'll be OK. Please, I need to."

"Because of Jonathon?"

"Partly. But also because I want you."

I poured her a brandy and handed it to her. As she held it, I put my arms around her and found what I hoped would be the zip of her dress. It wasn't.

"Little clasps, all the way down the back." She whispered.

Slowly, one at a time, I undid her dress. At the bottom of the corset top I found a little zip that ran a few inches down the full skirt. When all was undone, the dress remained in place around her, probably because we were standing so close together. Myra stood back and gave a little shake, and the whole dress fell away in a pool around her feet. She stood there in a little black g-string or thong, black lace top thigh high stockings and shiny black high heeled strappy sandals. She was the perfection of a wet dream.

Stupidly, my initial remark was "What a wonderful tan."

She smiled, "I've only just come back from holiday a few weeks ago." She half turned to be sideways to me, "And anyway, I've got obvious tan lines where my bikini was a lot bigger than this silly string."

I smiled, "I'll cope." 

I took hold of her hand, her fingers really, in a very polite way, drew her to me, kissed her, and then led the way to the bedroom. Both of us were still carrying our brandies, and by some unspoken agreement, we went to opposite sides of the bed and put our glasses down on the bedside tables. 

She kicked off her shoes, and put each leg in turn on the bed and peeled off her stockings. Then I saw her thumbs go into the waist band of her g-string.

"No, I'll do that, if I may." 

She smiled and laid down on the bed, just gently smiling up at me. 

I started to undress, and she watched me. The silence, the expectation was becoming deafening, so I looked at her and said, "God! You're sexy."

That seemed to prompt her, she stroked her hands up over her stomach to cup her breasts, letting the fingers pass over her nipples, and seemingly bring them to even greater erection. 

Once I was naked I joined her on the bed. I leaned over her and kissed her full on the lips, her mouth opened to allow my probing tongue in. Then I moved down her to kiss her nipples. She remained cupping her breasts, as if offering them to me, and that was a turn on. I looked down on her, she was still wearing a little black g-string and a heavy necklace and earrings. I took hold of the strings of her g-string on each hip and started to slide them down, "And now the piece de resistance."




Back to Bristol Ch. 06



She smiled, "No resistance." And she lifted her hips off the bed.

And then I saw that she was completely shaved. And her pussy lips were flushed pink.

"Wow!" I said. "You are a sight for a sex starved old man." And I positioned myself between her legs and licked her pussy from bottom to top.

From that moment on our scene turned to one of passionate oral sex. Even with all the experience of my bad years, eating a totally shaven woman was new. I'd had a couple of girls who were totally shaved, but I hadn't gone down on them. I loved it, it was something new. 

She orgasmed quickly and easily. And then we got onto the main event. At first we were both quite gentle and slow, but then I started to raise the pace, and I was thrusting in and out for all I was worth. Tonight I was a stayer! Maybe, deep inside me there were emotions floating around that I didn't understand, or even know of, but for some reason I was taking my time to cum. But cum I did, eventually.

"Wow!" was Myra's only comment as we came down from our orgasmic highs. 

I smiled, and kissed her gently.

We lay there and sipped our brandies. And then Myra said "I think I ought to clean my teeth and take my make-up off." And we both prepared for going to bed, like any domestic couple, in and out of the bathroom and tidying clothes.

Finally, I had by best silk boxers on ready to sleep, and was lying on the bed when she came out of the bathroom wearing a short nightdress, it clung to her breasts and was tight over her stomach but then ended in a frilled skirt at her hips, it was only just covering her pussy. 

I looked at her and smiled. "Pity." I commented.

"What is?"

"That I can't see that lovely shaven pussy."

She smiled and came to me on the bed. She gave me a big kiss, loving not passionate. "I can't tell you, Chris, how important all of this is to me."

"Jonathon?"

"Yes, Jonathon."

"First time since....?"

"Yes."

I kissed her, "Was he the shaven pussy addict?"

She sort of snorted, "Hardly! In fact his fetish was the opposite."

"He didn't like you to shave it at all? Or even trim it? What about bikini's and sunbathing?"

"I'm not naturally too hairy, so I usually could find something to wear. But we hardly ever went on sunshine holidays. Jonathon was a skiing nut."

"Oh."

"But it was the underarm bit that was far worse."

"He wouldn't let you shave under your arms? God! How did you manage?"

She smiled, "With difficulty. But I have the best wardrobe of trouser suits you could find anywhere."

"Or your legs? Good God, Myra. Why did you put up with it?"

She shrugged her shoulders, "In the short term, well it was better than a spanking. He used to be into over the knee spankings as well. In the long term, well I guess I used to love him."

"You're well off out of it." Then a thought struck me, "The spankings were just sex play fun weren't they? He didn't get too rough did he?"

"No. They stung, but that's all they were. At first, years ago, it was just fun, but then they came too often, and on the least excuse."

"Never my scene. Fun - Yes, but causing pain? Sorry, it's just not my scene."

"Nor mine - well not any longer, and never again."

"Good! Was the off the shoulder dress part of the rebellion of you reclaiming you, as well?"

"Yes. I wasn't dressing for you. I was dressing for me. I haven't been able to lift a bare arm in public for six years." She smiled and shrugged.

I took her into my arms and just cuddled her, there was nothing I could say. I pulled the quilt over us and we fell asleep.

In the morning I awoke to see Myra lying with her back to me. I snuggled up, with a very stiff cock nudging into her bottom. 

"Mmmm...Jnth ...." She rolled over and looked at me and smiled, "Chris....." 

No prizes for guessing who she was dreaming of! I smiled and kissed her gently on the lips. Our kiss turned to passion, and I swung over her, between her legs. I slid in, she was so wet. After a couple of minutes of missionary position I knelt up, "Come on, turn over, let's do something different."

She looked dubious, but turned over, into doggy position as I wanted. I slid my cock down the crease in her arse to slide it into her pussy. As my cock head passed her anus her head came up, "Not there, I promised...." There was real urgency and fear in her voice.

She looked round at me, I held my cock and looked at her. She smiled, "I promised my Mother: No anal on a first date." 

Good recovery, I thought. I slid into her pussy. And within a minute that moment was forgotten, and she was pushing back at me with my rhythm.

Afterwards, I shaved and showered, leaving her in bed. Then I went off to make a cup of coffee for us both whilst Myra had the bedroom and bathroom to herself. It wasn't long before she came into the kitchen.

"You're looking good." I said as she entered.

She smiled, "And that smells good."

I passed her a mug of coffee. "When we've drunk this, I'll take you out to breakfast. There's a café down the road that I've found has an excellent breakfast menu. Everything from a European half a loaf through to an English half a farmyard."

She sipped her coffee, "Scrambled eggs, bacon and coffee sounds like heaven."

"I'm sure they can do that. It's nice to hear a girl wanting a cooked breakfast, most of your gender seem to want muesli and a yoghurt."

"Not on a Sunday. Can we get a Sunday paper on the way, to sit and read whilst we eat?"

I smiled, "And you'll read a paper at the table! We were meant for each other."

We had a nice leisurely breakfast. I was dying to ask questions about Jonathon, but my interest was just nosiness about another guy's fetishes really, and I wasn't going to push her on the subject. It was more important for Myra to try to leave him behind, and anyway, she didn't seem to want to talk. So, we strolled back to my place, and I explained that Sunday was a day for me and my sons, and excused myself to go and collect them for lunch, whilst she headed home.

Ralph opened the front door for me, and the boys came straight out. As I turned to follow them, Ralph caught my arm, I looked at him and thought he looked both worried and tired.

"I think you ought to know that Molly and Peter still seem to have problems. She turned up here at about two o'clock this morning and slept here. She was obviously very upset, but at that hour in the morning it seemed best to just get her and us back to bed. And then this morning she didn't want to talk, but she's gone back to see him. The boys don't know, I guess you shouldn't raise doubts and worries in their minds just yet, so please go carefully."

I was surprised, and I guess it showed, "I saw them last night and ....."

"You saw them?"

"Yes. It was at the RNIB Easter Ball. The company gives them a lot of help so I had to go, it was a sort of official engagement. But they were there. It struck me as a bit odd, it's not the sort of thing I would choose for a serious talk and reconciliation. A nice French restaurant, candlelight and a quiet chat would be more my line, but each to his own."

"I think they've been to it before. So maybe it was booked up weeks ago. How were they?"

"Well, they didn't speak to me, and they must have seen me. I decided not to approach them, it seemed to me that it would be better to leave them in peace, especially considering what I guess they were trying to do. But from what I saw they seemed happy enough."

"Well something must have happened. Then or after they got home." He shrugged his shoulders.

"Well, this time, it certainly wasn't me." I said firmly.

Ralph smiled, "It's always you. Probably more than you realise."

I laughed, "Well, I can't do anything about being me. Sorry." And I went and joined the boys, to talk about what sort of lunch they fancied.



Back to Bristol Ch. 07



When I took the boys back that Sunday it was Susan that opened the door. She looked pale and worried. She let the boys in and just nodded to me, without saying a word, ignoring my cheerful, "Hi, Susan."

I was just getting into my car as Ralph came out. I stood and waited for him. He also looked worried, but he smiled at me, "Got time for a quick sherry?"

I smiled, got out of my car door again and followed him, "Sure."

Once we were ensconced in his shed, and we each had a plastic cup half full of the rich dark liquid, he looked at me, "It's serious. He's talking solicitors."

I considered that news for a while, so many emotions and thoughts washed over me, but I found the voice to say, "I'm sorry. Any idea what she is going to do?"

"None at all at this stage. At the moment she's at their house, and appears to be staying there. But, of course, they are welcome here."

"Well, that's good to know. But tell her, if she has any financial problems then I'll see what I can do. The boys need a good home with their mother. And I don't want them stuck in a place where there is no love, just because she can't afford to make the right decision."

Ralph put his hand out and squeezed my arm as a reply. 

We sipped our sherries in silence. It was me that eventually broke it, "Susan must be worried. If having Molly married to Peter was her security, then not having her married to Peter will be her insecurity."

"I wouldn't worry about Susan. How about you? If this is the end for Peter, then you must feel something... and don't try and be magnanimous. There must be a bit of you that is crowing."

I smiled, "Well, Yes there is. But poor Molly. She gave me up for the man of her dreams, and now that's falling apart. She must be devastated."

Again we sat in silence, then Ralph looked up at me, he was obviously searching my face, choosing his words carefully, "Susan may have preferred Peter, but that doesn't mean I did. As far as I was concerned, you were always a far better son than him, on the only criterion that matters. Would you think about trying again?"

"Good Heavens, No!" I paused to look at him, how do I politely tell Molly's Dad why not? "I can think of a hundred reasons why not. She dumped me for Peter, OK? I accept that in her eyes I came second to him. And, if they are splitting then I'm sorry for her, but that doesn't alter the fact that I come second to him."

"Don't you have regrets?"

"Yes, of course I have regrets. Everybody has things in their lives that they regret. Don't you?"

He nodded, "Yes. I always believed that her marrying Peter was a mistake, but I didn't do anything to stop it. I regret that. I regret that I didn't interfere enough when you two were splitting up to make you try again. Yes, I've got regrets." He looked very sad, suddenly he looked older than his sixty something years.

"Well, you have no reason to regret not interfering. No one should ever interfere between a man and wife. Not even a father. And, I've told you before, Molly never gave me any reason, any hope, that there was any point in trying to rebuild what she was throwing away. I accept that, so should you, Ralph." It was my turn to give his arm a comforting squeeze. "And anyway, it was all a long time ago, and we were different people then."

"Helene?"

"Partly. Helene is a very important part of my life. I owe her so much."

"But she's not part of your future?" It was a question, not a statement.

"No." I looked up at him, "I'll say this for your daughter, Ralph, she taught me what love really is. Yes, it was all the passion of two young people, and we were young then. But it was the total trust, commitment and security of life. In those days my life had only one future - with Molly. There were no alternatives." I smiled at him and shrugged, "Well there wasn't until she forced one onto me. But with Helene, there were always alternatives, and one of them was to walk away, and I've taken it. Helene is a wonderful girl, but she was no Molly."

"So, it wasn't Helene at the Ball last night?"

"No. That was Myra. Delectable Myra as my secretary calls her."

"Is she serious?"

Suddenly I remembered something, "No. But I think she told Molly she was. Apparently she met Molly in the Ladies, and Molly asked. I don't think Myra knew who she was talking to, but she gave a smart reply." Then a thought struck me, "Oh, No, Ralph. You can't claim that my being at that Ball with Myra is Peter and Molly's problem. And if anything, Myra telling Molly that we're an item even if we aren't, should have put both Molly's and Peter's minds to rest."

Ralph just watched me, "Talk to Molly, please Chris."

"I made one mistake in all of this. That afternoon when I went back to their house. I'm not interfering any more. If Molly wants to talk to me, well she knows where she can find me. But as she couldn't tell me anything over that whole afternoon, I doubt whether she's going to say anything of importance now."

Ralph smiled, "Myra was the girl that went to Marston Abbey that afternoon and upset Peter enough to send him home early, wasn't she?"

Now that was true, and that thought led to all sorts of possibilities. "I can see that Peter might think that indicates I was plotting against him, but I'm not that devious." I paused, looked at him and smiled "Well I am ........ but I didn't think of it."

"I'm going to ask you again: Please talk to Molly. I know she has things she needs to talk about."

"No, Ralph. I understand that she might need a shoulder to cry on, but you're asking too much of me to volunteer that it's my shoulder. I'm not the person for her to talk to about her problems with Peter." I looked at him, quite sternly, "It'd be too painful. There'd be too many memories. I'm not doing it. OK?"

Ralph looked defeated, "OK." He paused, "It's Easter next week. Got any plans?"

"No, not really, why?"

"Well, I don't know how it will turn out, but it might be nice if the boys saw you with Molly. Their future is being shaken around a bit at the moment. They can stay here as many nights as they like if things aren't good at Peter and Molly's, but it might be nice if their Dad was around a bit. How about coming round on the Monday."

"Well, you'd better wait and see what's happening. But I'd like to take them out all day on one of the days, if that would help. So just let me know which day would suit you ..... and Molly of course."

"You could at least talk to Molly about those sort of arrangements. Myself and Susan shouldn't be some sort of middlemen about your children."

"Yes, I'm sorry. I'll leave it a couple of days, until things have calmed down a bit...but, Yes, I'll talk to her. It's Jamie's birthday soon and I need to talk to her about his present anyway. I really don't want to add to yours or Susan's load with the boys, you do so much for them as it is."

We left it there, and I drove home - with a lot to think about.

That evening, at home alone, I hit the whisky bottle. Not too much, but they did slip down too easily. This is rare for me. There was a period after the split from Molly when I did drink alone at home, but it wasn't good and I stopped myself. It seemed ironic that the collapse of Molly's second marriage had me doing it again.

I'm not sure what I really felt about it all. There were waves of sheer 'I told you so' joy. But there were waves of pity for her and what she's going through. There were doubts about the future for the boys, it was so important to me that they shouldn't be damaged by this. I realised there was no pity for Peter. I guess he was going through Hell at the moment, and it was wrong of me to not at least feel some sympathy for the guy, but I didn't.

And then there were the questions: How could I build an easy friendship with Molly if she was distraught as I assumed she would be? I still hadn't answered the question of why she wanted to take me to her bed that Friday afternoon. My cuckold-wimp theory was shot to ribbons, but what was the alternative? The only one that I can think of is that she was overcome with emotion at the remembrance of what we once had, just as I was. I do remember that she had said it was a one off, so I guess she thought 'just one more time - for old time's sake.' 

And then there was whatever Ralph meant by saying that I was the better son by the only criterion that counts? That I'll have a sherry with him in his shed? That I gave him grandsons? My guess is that Peter fires blanks, and maybe that is part of the cause of the break-up. Who knows?

And with one more whisky - who cares?

Carole was already at her desk when I arrived on Monday morning. "Morning!" I said cheerfully as I passed.

She smiled, "And how was the delectable Myra?"

"Delectable!" I said as I disappeared into my office, but then I put my head around the door and added, "And I delected!"

Two minutes later Carole came in with my coffee, "And did you delect for just the evening, or was it a whole weekend of delecting?"

"A gentleman would never tell." 

"But will you be delecting again? And will it be with Myra?"

"Well, I certainly hope that I will be delecting again, I'm too young to give up delecting just yet." I paused and considered her second question, "But will it be with Myra? I hope so, but it's not vital that it is."

After that Monday passed quickly I did go looking for Myra at one time, but I was told that she had left to go to London, and wasn't due back until Tuesday. On Monday afternoon I was invited to appear on a panel of businessmen for a local television programme, and I accepted. But, other than for that, I think I was rather grateful that Monday just passed without any personal issues coming up, just good solid work.

Tuesday continued where Monday left off, I did leave a message for Myra to come and see me before she went home, but I was stuck in an interminable meeting with Production all afternoon. I also learnt that my television appearance was neatly timed by the producers to be on the same day as Jamesons finally closed. Bugger. That meant hours in PR getting my words and the corporate line absolutely word perfect.

Stephen Hobbs phoned me from Exeter. Apparently they were having a staff party on the 28th April, the Saturday after Easter. It was going to be a barn dance, all very informal, and I was invited. I accepted, and in fact I thought it might be fun. It reminded me what a good bunch the Exeter staff seemed to be, but more important, that I wasn't sure how they fitted in my vision of the future. After some more chat with Stephen, I agreed that I would actually spend the Friday in Exeter, and do some blue sky thinking about strategy with him, and maybe a couple of his most senior and trusted guys. Later I asked Carole to book me a nice hotel in Exeter for the Friday and Saturday nights.

I was working at my desk after Carole had left for the day, when Myra came through my office door. "You needn't have called for me, I was going to come and see you anyway."

I looked up and smiled, "For business or pleasure?"

She smiled and parried, "It's always a pleasure to see you about business." I waited until she added, "For private reasons, maybe not pleasure."

"That sounds ominous. How about I do you a deal? I wanted to see you for both business and pleasure. How about I do the business bit now, and I buy you a simple dinner for us both to do the private bit? Out of the office and all that."

She looked doubtful.

I added, "What's the worse that can happen? My guess is that you are going to tell me that you want to cool it. Well you might as well get a meal out of me before you do, and I promise that I won't have a tantrum in a restaurant and embarrass you. What do you say?" I smiled, I hope winningly.

She smiled, but neutrally asked, "What was the business?"

"When are you going to Exeter next?"

"Nothing scheduled. Why?"

"I'm beginning to wonder what we do with them. It seems to me that they have a great capacity to be expanded, and to do other work for other companies. But that is not within our remit of building a company in the health market. If they are to just continue as they are, then why don't we relocate them to here, in Bristol? They are a brighter, more intelligent bunch than a lot of the current incumbents. To inject some of the Exeter guys into Production would be a good thing, wake them up a bit...."

"Ooooh! I can see Dennis Murrell having something to say about that!"

I smiled, "So can I. But none of us, including Dear Dennis, are indispensable." I continued to smile.

She smiled, "And Stephen Hobbs as Production Director? I could live with that."

"Not necessarily, but Yes, I could live with it as well. Or we could just sell them off, make a profit, and contract with them on the open market."

"Mmmmmm...." She said thoughtfully.

"So? When can you go and spend a day in Exeter, with that little lot in the back of your mind?"

Myra picked up her diary, "The earliest would be Friday week."

"Great! I'm going to be down there that day, so maybe we can touch base sometime at the end of the day. I can give you a lift if you like."

"OK." And she wrote a note in her diary.

I didn't add, 'and you can stay for the weekend and go to a Barn Dance.' I thought I'd see if we were going to have dinner tonight before I fish for a dirty weekend in a nice country hotel outside of Exeter.

She smiled, "So what about this dinner then?"

I suggested we drive in convoy down to the Old Vic area and park down there. There are plenty of restaurants in that area. As we walked up from the car park she linked her arm through mine, and we strolled up the road.

"What do you fancy? How about Italian?" I pointed at the lime green one, "I ate there once, it was quite good."

"Suits me." She said. And that's what we did.

We just chatted until the food turned up, but once we started eating, she obviously decided to turn to her problem, "Chris, I want to thank you so much for Saturday. It was pretty important for me."

I looked up, and took a sip of wine and waited,

"Saturday night and Sunday morning, I mean. It was the first time since Jonathon and an important milestone for me. But, I don't want to lose your friendship, your confidence in me at work, because of a passing romantic entanglement."

"You know I've had doubts. I've never dated any one from work before. I've never been attracted enough to a colleague, so its never been a problem before. Strictly speaking, you aren't a Franks employee, your Head Office staff, just seconded."

"It's our working relationship that's important. And I don't really think I'm a fit and proper person for you to get involved with just yet anyway."

I smiled, "I'd much rather get involved with an improper person." But then I put my hand across the table and gently squeezed hers, "Look, Myra, I've been there. It's taken me over four years from splitting with Molly to get where I am now. You were with Jonathon for what? Six? Seven years? Take your time. Have the relationships you need. And don't let anyone push you around."

She looked into my eyes, and just said "Thank you."

We ate in silence for a while, but when we'd finished and they'd cleared the plates, I asked, "What are you doing for Easter?"

"Nothing now. I thought I'd go home and visit my parents. But last week they suddenly announced that they were going to drive down to stay with my Uncle Bill and Aunt Anne at their cottage down in the south of France. So, I'm on my own."

"Well, so am I. Why don't we do something together one evening. Not a date, no sex, no intention or hope of sex, just friends going to see a film or the theatre or something. It's better than you sitting by yourself in an empty flat in Bath while I sit in an empty flat in Bristol. How about it?"

"Don't tempt me. I used to love theatre, but Jonathon hated it, so we never went."

"Well, why don't I see if I can rustle up some theatre tickets for Bath or Bristol. We must be able to get into something reasonable. How about Saturday night?"

"Just as friends?"

"Just as friends."

"OK. You're on. But only if I pay. I don't want you paying all the time."

"OK. I can live with that." I smiled. "Do you want some pud, or just a coffee?"

"Just coffee, please."

I called a waiter over and ordered two coffees. When he'd gone, I looked at Myra, she smiled at me, "Tell me about Jonathon. I have the feeling that he had some heavy hang-ups, and you are only just beginning to work through them."

She glanced around the restaurant and she looked uncomfortable. 

I immediately backed off, "Sorry. Don't answer that, or not here anyway."

She smiled weakly. I was just wondering what to talk about when the waiter brought our coffees and saved me.

It was Myra that broke what was becoming an awkward silence, "I'm sorry, Chris." She stopped stirring her coffee and looked up into my eyes, "I think I do need to talk about it, if only to confirm my analysis, but not here."

"Well, how about we drink this coffee, and then go back to my place and have another cup there. Nothing else, just two friends talking in private about private things."

She smiled, "I guess I should, while I'm in the mood, and its all going around in my head."

And that's what we did. In fact she beat me back to my place and was standing in the lobby when I got there. I made us two big mugs of good coffee, and we sat down.

"OK?" I prompted.

She sat up, looking tense and holding her coffee mug in two hands, "Well, I guess Jonathon was a bit of a control freak. But I think that by me constantly conceding to him just made it worse. He seemed to want to push more and more to find my limit. I think the relationship was on a self-destruct course for years, slowly and incrementally."

"How? What makes you think that?"

"Well, take the hair thing. I don't really think he really had a hair fetish. I think it was all about control. He never showed any particular interest in my head hair for instance. It was just one day, in early summer, when I was going to trim my bikini line. And I told him, and suggested that maybe I should get a Brazilian, would he like it? It was just teasing talk, really. But he suddenly said No, he didn't like that. He wanted me to leave it natural. And it sort of grew from there. A year later, and it took that long, he suddenly said he didn't want me to shave under my arms. And much later after that, he used to enjoy embarrassing me, making me lift my arm when out with his friends, on silly excuses."

"That sounds like it was a power trip for him."

She shrugged, "Do you know what really got to me, really pissed me off? Once, I heard one of his friends say something about my hairy pits, and he said that it was something I insisted doing, that he had to tolerate it for the sake of the relationship. That really pissed me."

I smiled, "Matthew, 10:33"

Myra just looked puzzled and waited. So I added, "Whosoever shall deny me before men, him will I also deny before my Father which is in heaven." I smiled, "Haven't you ever had much to do with The Old Man?"

She laughed, and relaxed back into the sofa. 

I thought now was my moment, "And the promise?"

She looked at me, slightly accusingly I thought, then her face softened and smiled, "I thought I covered myself quite well." She paused, "When I met Jonathon, he was a virgin, and I wasn't. Oh I wasn't some harlot, but I'd had a couple of boyfriends, and I lost it, or gave it away, when I was eighteen."

I smiled, "I was seventeen and drunk. I can remember her name, it was Annette Pyrford, but I can't remember what she looked like, except that she had long dark hair. And I don't remember much more."

"He was Taylor Simmonds, and I quite liked him, but I shouldn't have. He didn't last long afterwards, I guess there was no challenge for him once I'd conceded." She paused, "Anyway, Jonathon got real uptight about it. He hated the thought of my previous boyfriends. So, I gave him my bum. I'd wanted to try it for some time, and actually, done right, I rather enjoy it, but I promised him that he was and would be the only man to have me there."




Back to Bristol Ch. 07



"I don't think that promise is still valid. One day you will meet a man who will sweep you off your feet, and you must be able to give him all of yourself."

"You're right." She looked rather thoughtful.

I took the break to stand up and go over to the sideboard, and with my back to her I said, "I'm going to have a brandy, I hope you don't mind. I won't encourage you to drink, as you're driving, but you are welcome to one if you want."

"I think I'm beginning to regret another promise I made myself."

"What was that?"

"That I wouldn't ever go to bed with you again."

I turned round to look at her, "Are you sure?"

"Very." She looked at me, "Oh, I don't think we are going anywhere. But you are so good for me, you understand. Just one more night would be nice, and you can help me break that other silly promise."

Suddenly I was silent. I was being asked to take this beautiful woman to bed, to have anal sex with her, and all of it was about Jonathon and none of it was about me. 

"No." I said, firmly, but then I softened, "I'll very happily invite you to my bed tonight and we can do anything you want that exorcises Jonathon, I like it all, promise. But tomorrow morning we will make love one more time, and it will be just us, you and me. And that will be our one last time."

She stood and came over to me. She put her arms either side of my head, and kissed me, "Sorry. I was being selfish. You're right, and you are too nice a guy. I think that by tomorrow morning Jonathon will be in my past, and I promise you it will only be you and me." And we kissed again, then she said, "So I can have that brandy."

I poured us two brandies, and we sat together on the sofa. We both seemed to relax, and suddenly I felt we were real friends. 

Myra leant back into me as we sat on the sofa, sipping our brandies. Once in a while one of us would say something, and maybe get a response, but on the whole it was a comfortable silence. Then she turned on her side, with her head over my lap, and her hands started to massage my cock through my trousers.

I'd been half hard whilst we were just sitting, but it didn't take her long to have me fully erect. Then she calmly unzipped me and started kissing the head of my cock. It wasn't long before she opened her mouth and was sucking me gently, whilst her hand continued to wank me. I lasted about five minutes.

Myra looked up and smiled. She had a little bit of my cum trickling down from the corner of her mouth, which she sensuously licked with her tongue.

We both said "Thank you" at the same time, and then both laughed.

"I thought you wanted me to do naughty things to you in bed." I observed,

"I do. I'm sure you can recover. Tell you what, to let you have time to recover, can I borrow your shower?"

"Of course. You'll find clean towels in the cupboard just outside the bathroom."

"And can I borrow your razor. I haven't shaved since Saturday, and I want to be smooth for you."

"Can I watch? Or even help?" I asked with a smile.

She looked puzzled for a moment, "Oh! I was expecting to present myself all clean and smooth, but I guess...if you want...."

"No. Don't worry. The thought of you presenting yourself all clean and smooth will help my recovery. Go on...go and have your shower." And I kissed her.

I was waiting in bed when she came out of the bathroom. I was beginning to feel guilty and self-conscious. She was coming to me freshly shaved and showered and I hadn't even brushed my teeth. I'd already been out of bed once to flit myself down with some cologne that was sitting on a chest of drawers, all my other stuff was in the bathroom with her.

And then she stepped out of the bathroom, simply naked, shaven and clean. No make-up and her hair just towelled dry and combed out. She posed leaning against the door post. I couldn't help but compare her to the two major women of my life, Molly and Helene. She was younger and firmer than Molly, but somehow less sensuous. And she was more rounded, with bigger breasts than Helene. But she was up there, she rated with them.

I recovered myself from my thoughts to say "You look good enough to eat."

She smiled, and said, "I hoped you'd say that. Because I was looking forward to being eaten." And I laughed.

From that moment on the sex was fun. We laughed and joked. We fucked and sucked. 

At one point, when I was taking her anally, as promised, and I was working hard at making sure she enjoyed it, I heard her say, quite quietly and into the pillow, "Sod you Jonathon! I'll give my arse to anyone I like." I obviously wasn't meant to hear it and I didn't respond. But mind you, at that moment, I had other things on my mind and certainly not bloody Jonathon.

I was gently pumping away at her arse, when suddenly she started to really meet my strokes, "Oh! ...... Oh my God! ..... I'm going to cum..... Oh! Chris.... Don't stop ..... Aaaaagh!" I wasn't long behind her, if you'll excuse the pun!

Afterwards, as we lay on the bed, both staring at the ceiling, she said, "I've never cum before from being fucked back there...... I like it, the feeling of giving myself....of feeling so full....but I've never cum before.... Jonathon never managed that..... Oh! Thank you, Chris." And she turned and kissed me.

"That's what freedom does for you." I said.

When I could rouse myself, I did go and clean my teeth, and wash my cock. And I returned to bed and we snuggled and fell asleep.

The next morning I woke up to Myra raining little gentle kisses all over my face. As I opened my eyes, she saw I was awake and glued her lips to mine in a passionate kiss, with her tongue probing my mouth before I was awake enough to fight back. By sheer force, not resisted much by Myra, I lifted my torso up and rolled us over so that I was looking down on her. Then I kissed my way down to her breasts. 

Her breasts were so full and so firm, for a moment I wondered if she had implants, and I purposely played with them in my hands, but they were real. Without doubt, they were her best feature, but her whole body was top rated. 

I climbed between her legs, and my cock nudged its way into her pussy. We made love, slowly and gently, watching each other intently. She was smiling, and I leaned down to kiss her, and this time it was my tongue probing her mouth. I could feel us both rising in urgency, her hips were meeting my thrusts, faster and faster.

"Cum for me, Chris....Cum for me...." She started a chant.

And I did as I was told. And I felt her sigh and her pussy tighten as she came with me.

I kissed her on the nose, "And that was for us. Just boring old missionary position sex, but it was great. And thank you, it was just us two doing it." And I kissed her nose again.

We lay there for a while, her in the crook of my arm, until I decided to bring us back to reality, "Do you need to get back to your place to change before you go into work?"

"Yes and No. I've got a twelve o'clock in London, and I was intending to just work at home this morning anyway, and go up at about ten o'clock on the train from Bath. So I'm relaxed about time."

I kissed the top of her head, "Well thanks to you, I feel in a gentle and amiable mood. So I'm not in a hurry either. I'll give Carole a call and send my apologies if I turn up a bit late for my first. I think it was an HR meeting, with having to decide the across the board basic salary rises for the year." I paused for a second, "Probably as well if I'm late for that. I'm in too good a mood to talk about pay rises, I'd give too much away."

We lay there in silence for a few more minutes, then I began to move, "Why don't you take the bathroom, whilst I go and make a cup of coffee."

I took her back to my breakfast café, it was a lovely spring morning and warm enough for us to sit at one of their outside tables. 

Myra was sparkling this morning, she obviously felt good. "Thank you, Chris. Because of you I seem to have come a long way in the last week. So much further than the previous two months. I really feel that maybe, just maybe, life will be OK."

I smiled, "Well, you never know, on the train this morning a tall dark handsome man may come and sit opposite you, and he will be your future."

"Ooooh, I hope so. And if he did, I think I might even notice him. Whereas last week I would just have sat and compared him to Jonathon. But, what's your future? What does Chris Bennett want? To sit on the train opposite a blue eyed honey blonde who will give you four children in a little thatched cottage with roses around the door?"

I laughed, "Hardly. I reckon my future is a pleasant string of ladies. None of whom will I care about too much, but equally I will care about them enough. And one day, when I'm past being eyed as a potential father and mortgage payer, I'll meet a lady who wants to commit to a partnership of business and travel and fine living."

She looked at me, "That sounds rather sad. You'd make a great father. It seems terribly shallow to me."

I smiled, "I'm already trying to be an OK father." I paused and sighed, "I had depth once, and I lost it. So for a while, shallow's good."

I was aware of Myra just watching me as I spread apricot jam on a chunk of brioche. I waited.

"Do you still love her?"

Now that was a question! "Molly? I loved her once, and I guess she owns a bit of me, but times change. You can't live in the past."

Myra was quiet for a minute, and I was beginning to believe that I had successfully shut her up, but no.

"I don't think that actually answered my question."

"Because it is a question that is totally ....." I paused to choose my word, "Irrelevant? Hypothetical?.... I don't know. But what you are asking is: Am I in love with another man's wife? And the answer has to be No. And anyway, I'm not quite sure what Love is anymore. I thought Molly and I had it, but we obviously didn't. So, No, she is not part of my life in that sense. I have no commitment to her. My life has to be other people and other loves." I paused again, "And I think it's time I went to work."

As I drove into work I thought about Myra. Was I a fool to let such a beautiful girl slip from my grasp? Could I do anything to stop it? Well, I don't know about the second question, but I think it was sensible to let it relax into a friendship. I need some friends, I don't have too many, and a love affair at work is guaranteed to be trouble. But, I do need to widen my social life, meet more people, some as potential friends, and others as potential lovers.

I got to work at 09:15, which was a bit late, but not too bad. Carole greeted me with a smile, and told me that the Personnel meeting had only just started in my office, but that they'd postponed the discussion on pay rises for another day, and the accountants had returned to their desks.

I went through my messages and appointments with her at her desk, before I made my belated entrance to the meeting. Carole was watching me and suddenly said, "You seem in a good mood."

"I am." I winked.

"You've been delecting again, I can tell."

"Yes. But from here on in you will be interested to know, we are just good friends."

She looked slightly sad but questioning, so I added, "I mean it. We really are good friends. We both decided that a good working relationship and our careers were worth more than a passing affair. So don't worry."

"Pity. I thought you and the delectable Myra were well matched. You both seem to have upset the same amount of people when the rumour went round that you'd hooked up together."

I raised my eyebrows and waited, "Of course you upset plenty of the girls who had dreams that they could be the second Mrs Bennett. But Myra dashed as many men's fantasies."

"Well leave the girl's hearts dashed, I could do without that. But the men's fantasies can be restored with hope. That's up to Myra." 

I went on reading my messages, and handed one back to her, it was an invite to a breakfast meeting of local business people, with an ex-Cabinet Minister as guest of honour. "I'll go to that. I need to go to more of those sort of things, widen my circle and all that."

And then I had an afterthought, "And so that my friend Myra .." and I put heavy emphasis on the 'friend' word, "...and I can have something to do over Easter, could you see if you can get a couple of good theatre tickets for Saturday night, please? Bath or Bristol, it doesn't really matter. A straight play or a musical, just something reasonably intelligent and entertaining."

I opened my office door and joined the meeting.

A couple of hours later, I was sitting at my desk trying to set an Agenda for the next board meeting when my phone rang, it was Carole: "I have Ralph Tremaine on the line, he needs to speak to you."

I sighed, "Put him through."

"Ralph! What can I do for you."

"Chris, thanks for phoning me back. I know I said you had to sort out this weekend with Molly, but I saw her yesterday and I did it for you."

I'm not phoning him back, but I ignored that one, "And?"

"And she's a complete mess. She doesn't know whether she's coming or going."

There was a pregnant pause while Ralph waited for me to volunteer to talk to her. I didn't. 

Eventually, he picked up. "I think the best thing I can do is try to put some structure, some discipline on her Easter weekend. So, I've insisted that she and the boys stay here for the weekend. We'll go to Church on both Friday and Sunday, the formality of dressing a bit smarter and a formal service might help. You would be very welcome to join us."

"No thank you. That's not my scene." 

Again there was a pause which I ended this time, "I was thinking of giving the boys at least one whole day out sometime. Give them a break from what must be a fairly tense atmosphere. I was thinking of Friday, as soon as possible really."

"Well, you can take them Friday. I doubt whether they need too many Church services. Why not take them out on Sunday afternoon as well, and come to lunch or tea on Monday?"

"You know what day Monday is?"

"Yes, it's Shakespeare's birthday. It will mean so much to her that you are there that day of all days. And what better day to talk to her?"

"God! You don't half ask a lot, Ralph."

"Well, you can give her some hope for the future, what better day to look forward as well as back. 'The miserable have no other medicine but only hope.' Isn't that Measure for Measure?"

"You should choose something from Love's Labour's Lost."

"One of the tragedies would be the most appropriate." Again he paused, "I know its hard, but come for tea on Monday at the least. Please, Chris."

I sighed, I didn't relish the prospect, "OK, then."

"And if she really does want to talk, then listen this time. OK."

"Now Ralph, I think I've always listened. Even when I was hearing things I didn't much like. But, if you could tell her to focus a bit on what a shit Peter is, then I might like listening a bit more."

"He isn't. He was wrong at the outset, but he isn't a shit. Now, we'll see you on Friday, before ten to pick up the boys?"

"Yes."

"And you'll come to tea on Monday."

"Yes. I said so, didn't I?"

"Good. Well I won't take up any more of your time."

I put the phone down and went out to Carole, "That was good of me, phoning Ralph back like that."

She smiled, "Yes it was, wasn't it?" 

I looked at her, and shook my head, but I was smiling. 

"Oh, Chris..." She'd obviously thought of something, "You're going to the Theatre Royal Bath, for A Streetcar Named Desire, curtain up at eight o'clock."

"Well done and thank you. I'll let the no longer delectable Myra know." 

The rest of Wednesday passed fairly uneventfully. I did let Myra know about our theatre date. In the evening I did my television bit and seemed to get away from the flak flying around on Jamesons closure. But as I drove home my thoughts returned to trying to work out what I really felt about the collapse of Molly's marriage. My ideas changed by the mile driven, everything from delight at Peter's suffering through to fear for the future of Jamie and Ben. Later, I lay awake staring at the ceiling, but still came to no particular conclusion.

Business on Thursday went well, but being the last day before the Easter break, everybody seemed to be anxious to leave dead on time if not before. So, by five thirty I was sitting in my comfortable chair in my office, all alone and beginning to draft out ideas on how to focus the right players on new products. 

I was deep in thought when I was roused by a knock on my open door, I looked up and there was Piers McBaine.

I smiled, he didn't. "This time I really do think you may have been a fucking bastard."

I waved him to sit down on one of the sofas. "And why?"

"I've been up at a conference in Harrogate for the first three days of this week. I've come back to find a very depressed Peter Davies, mainly working by himself in his room, hardly talking to anybody, and if anybody talks to him...... well he's near to tears and talking of divorce."

"Oh!" I said, still trying to keep my responses neutral.

"And he told me a little more about the other Friday." Piers stared at me, and I stared back, neither of us backing down.

I went and poured two whiskies. I handed him one, Piers watched me without a word, I tried to choose my words carefully, "Maybe I was a fucking bastard; I really don't understand that afternoon. I guess I should have backed away, but I didn't. So maybe you're right."

"What happened? I know how it ended up, I don't know how it started."

"It started with Molly phoning me up and saying she wanted to talk to me about something, and could we meet for a long lunch."

I went on to give him a fairly clinical summary of that afternoon. I finished with, "I know it shouldn't have happened, but my brain wasn't in logical mode, it was just mush. I was a walking talking bundle of emotions. Have you ever been in their dining room, for instance?"

Piers looked surprised, "Yes, of course I have."

"Well, that dining room is an exact replica of mine and Molly's dining room of five years ago. I helped choose that table and those chairs. Even the pictures on the walls are straight from Molly's and my old home..... and the colour of the walls. You probably can't begin to imagine what hit me in nostalgia, in sadness for all that I'd lost. And then she desperately needs me to take her to bed. I didn't stand a chance. It was wrong of me, and I don't know why she did it, but I followed as a lamb to the slaughter."

"So it wasn't all premeditated? Peter thinks you planned it all as an act of revenge. And what was it you said to him as you were leaving?"

I told him of my taking the opportunity to take revenge, "But I didn't plan it that way. I promise you Piers, I thought I was going to lunch with my ex to discuss the boys' education, and whatever she wanted to talk about - and I still don't know what that was." I smiled, "And it wasn't even particularly wonderful as far as sex goes. It was overlaid with huge emotion, but the act itself was pretty basic, quick and meaningless."

Piers sipped his whisky, thoughtfully. 

It was me that broke the silence, "I would have thought that this single incident would be something to be got over, not allowed to destroy a good marriage. And surely, from what we know, Peter isn't an innocent angel, he knows these things happen. Once upon a time he seemed to build a life based on making them happen."

Piers sighed and looked at me, as if trying to make up his mind about something, "Why do you think Molly did it?"

I shrugged, "I don't know. At first I wondered if they were playing some silly sex game where she gets caught in bed with her lover, and then they spend the rest of the evening banging away like newly weds..."

"No, I can't see that..." Piers interjected.




Back to Bristol Ch. 07



"No, nor can I now. I can only assume that Molly was overcome with some similar form of emotion as myself. That she wanted to recapture something we used to have, just one more time. And she did say it was only going to be one time. Or, maybe deep inside her there was a need to balance the books between Peter and myself. That she cheated on me with him, so she needed to cheat on him with me." I shook my head sadly, "I just don't know."

"Peter is saying that Molly is still deeply in love with you. That he can't fight it any longer, and that's why they are at the end of their marriage."

"Well that's rubbish from so many points of view. The guy's paranoid."

"Why? Is it so preposterous?"

"Molly had an affair with Peter when she was married to me. That doesn't sound as if she's deeply in love with me, does it? Then without a word of regret she lets me divorce her, and is engaged to be married to him before even the decree nisi is declared." I paused, before adding sarcastically, "She really pined for me and our marriage."

Piers sat in silence, just thinking.

So I continued, "My guess is that Peter is just paranoid about me. I guess that since I've come back. there must be a lot of talk and action in their house about me. Molly has to get the boys to her parents so that I can pick them up. The boys would talk about what we did when they're with me. And he can't even get away from me at work, he's surrounded by gossip and cruel comments at work. I've invaded his life, whether he likes it or not. And if he complains then Molly probably reminds him that I am the boys' father, and I have a right to see them. In effect, I have a right to be there in his life. It can't be easy for him." I paused, "And then, to top it all, he comes home early and finds me in his bed with his wife." I paused and laughed, "I hate the guy, but I do have some sympathy for him."

"But why does he then say it is because Molly loves you? Peter isn't an emotional fool, he's a clear thinking logical researcher."

"I don't know. Maybe its easier to blame me or Molly or anyone but himself."

"What will you do if he's right and you're wrong?"

I smiled, "God only knows! But as the idea is pretty unlikely. Of all the things in this bizarre situation, that is the one that is least likely to keep me awake at night."

We sat in silence for some time, and then I began to realise that Piers hadn't made any comment on anything. So I prompted him for at least some information, "Is Peter still living at home? I know that Molly is still there."

"Yes and No. You know their gym come guest suite that should have been a garage?" I nodded, "Well I've heard, Peter didn't tell me this but Sharon Booth did, that he has moved in there, with a camping stove and a camp bed."

"So it is serious, then. I had thought that if they were still together at home, then time would help blow things over."

"Oh, it's serious. But I don't think he's actually seen a solicitor yet."

"Well, I've been doing my best to stay out of it, except for that afternoon when I interfered too much. But Molly's father is insisting that I talk to her on Monday. I'm not looking forward to it, I haven't the faintest idea what to say." Suddenly a thought struck me, "This all blew up not after Peter caught us in bed, but after he'd tried reconciling with her, after his week away. So, it's not that Molly and myself ended up in bed that afternoon that is the problem, and he's kidding himself if he's now claiming it is."

"I don't think he is. He's saying there's been a chain of events that convinces him that Molly's in love with you."

"Back to the paranoid theory." I looked Piers straight in the eye, "I promise you Piers, ever since Peter Davies's name was first mentioned by Molly over four years ago now, nearly five, and except for that Friday afternoon, she has never ever said a single word to me that I could interpret as anything but that she doesn't love me, and she does love Peter. And he's paranoid if he thinks otherwise. And anyway, we've been divorced four years and they've been married that long, I really am ancient history. He should get over his paranoia and get on with his life."

Piers smiled, "I'll tell him."

I allowed a pause to build, then asked, "Is he going to be a problem?"

"In what way?"

"In that having a senior player going around saying that the Managing Director has bust up his marriage isn't exactly conducive to harmony and cooperation in the team."

"I don't think so. He'll get short shrift from me if he does. I've already reminded him that you treated him with respect at work, I expect him to do the same for you. Whether he will or not - we'll find out."

I smiled, and decided it was time to change subject, "So what are you doing over Easter?"

"We're going up to stay with Ester," He played with the sound, " Ester at Easter; Easter with Ester." But then he continued, "She's expecting our first grandchild. Not for another month yet, but we're taking up our contribution: the crib, and travelling cot, bags full of clothes, and probably a cheque if I'm still in a good mood on Monday." He smiled proudly.

"So you and Jeanette are going to be grandparents. Congratulations. It's rather nice that you are close enough to be involved."

"Well, my main contribution was about twenty five years ago, but I enjoyed it!" He smiled and winked.



Back to Bristol Ch. 08



I sat in the car wash on my way home on that Thursday, and it's funny how little things spark a response. As I watched the swirling brushes coming up the front of my car and onward over the windscreen, I thought the chaos of brush strokes and bubbles that they brought with them were so like my own thoughts about Molly and Peter, and that conversation with Piers McBaine.

For the ten thousandth time in the last four years I went over the events of the fateful weeks of the death of my marriage. And for the ten thousandth time I came to the conclusion that Molly hadn't given me a single scrap of evidence that she loved me. She was obsessed by Peter.

So, the only possible explanation of Peter's reported view that she was in love with me must be a simple mistake on his part, or paranoia as I had suggested. For a moment I did wonder if in some domestic argument, or even the argument and discussions that must have followed him discovering me in his bed, whether Molly had hurled a little gem that she still loved me. Not because it was true, but because she wanted to hurt her opponent in an argument. But Molly never argued like that with me, she was always gentle and persuasive rather than angry and hurtful. And if it was an emotional argument, then she would be tearful and accept more blame for the problem than was really fair, and would normally just plead for it to put behind us.

I could only assume that Peter was just saying she loved me, so as to excuse himself from the blame of a failing marriage. 

These thoughts and ideas went around and around in my head, but I was at Susan and Ralph's house at ten o'clock Good Friday morning to pick up the boys. It was Molly who opened the door. She looked strained and tired, but she smiled and called the boys. 

As they passed us on the way to the car, she asked what I planned for the day, "I thought we'd drive down to Taunton and pick up the steam railway to Minehead. We can easily find lunch there, or buy a picnic and sit on the beach to eat it."

She looked wistful, "That sounds nice. They'll enjoy that." 

We paused, looking at each other. I was conscious that the boys were sitting in the car waiting, and there was no time to say some of the things I thought I ought to say. I was just choosing my words to say something brief when Molly spoke, "I think Jamie and Ben have been looking forward to a break, they need it."

I smiled, "I think that's all I can do is give them a break. But I am sorry to hear about you and Peter. You had such great hopes...."

She shrugged and smiled weakly, "Not really. But it is a bit of a mess..."

We were about to drift into a conversation that I was very uncertain about. But I was certain that this was not the time for it. "The boys are waiting for me." And I turned and left.

On the drive down to Taunton, which I'd estimated was going to take about three quarters of an hour, and looked like it was going to be quicker than that, the boys started arguing in the back seats. I wondered if they were showing signs of stress from the situation they lived amongst. But I told them off, gently. 

"It's your fault, Dad."

"What is?"

"Well, these back seats are too tight. Why couldn't you have a decent car, with big seats?"

"A Jaguar XK isn't a decent car?"

"Well it's alright if you want to impress your friends, or girls..." There were giggles in the back seat.

".... But not so good for long journeys if you have to sit in the back?" I finished it for them. "Well, don't tell your Mother, or Grandpa Ralph or Nanny Susan, but I think Jamie, you are big enough to sit in the front coming home. And that'll give you all the back seats to yourself, Ben. How's that?"

That led to Jamie goading Ben that he was big enough to sit in the front and Ben was still relegated to the back. I realised this was very unusual, they normally worked as a team. They were so close, far closer than I had ever been to my brother Brian. I guess that closeness was a result of what they'd been through. And I guess the current argument was the result of the stress they were currently going through.

Later we were admiring the steam trains as we waited for the next one for Minehead, and the argument in the car seemed long forgotten. Jamie turned to Ben, "Do you remember when Nanny Davies took us on the steam train, Ben?" and I realised that my sons had had four years of life of which I knew very little about. 

So I asked, "Did you see a lot of Nanny Davies? Was she a nice lady?"

Jamie looked at me quizzically, "She was alright. She always bought us sweets. And she made jolly good cakes. They were even better than Nanny Susan's, but Mummy said we must never tell her that."

"No you shouldn't. Susan is very proud of her cakes."

"And she died and left Mummy and Peter lots of money."

"Ben, when people die you don't worry about how much money they leave you in their wills."

"But it's why we have the house we live in. Are we going to have to move in with you, Daddy? You haven't got a bedroom for us."

"I don't know, Ben. But I do promise that you and Mummy will always have a home. But maybe Mummy and Peter will sell the house you live in at the moment."

"Peter lives in the gym ..... and our room." Ben didn't look pleased that Peter had commandeered their playroom.

I smiled, "Well, I hope you cleaned the blackboard before he moved in."

Ben looked at me, obviously seeing no reason for my observation, so I added, "Elsie?"

Suddenly Ben looked worried and looked at his brother. Jamie smiled, "It's alright. I cleaned it before he saw it." 

But then Jamie looked at me with a very questioning look. Before I could explain a train steamed into our platform and the boys watched, fascinated.

As we boarded the train I did think that maybe I could use the fact that I knew about their Elsie jibe as a way to restart some conversation about the state of Molly and Peter's marriage. But Jamie seemed to forget the incident, and they quickly relaxed into simply enjoying themselves. In fact the whole day became a happy break from the stress of our other lives for all three of us.

The train ride to Minehead takes over an hour, and my biggest problem was stopping Jamie and Ben sticking their heads out of the windows, or making a general nuisance of themselves with other passengers. But once we got to Minehead, I let them lose some of their energy down on the beach, throwing pebbles into the water. And I am very pleased to say that I could beat both of them with skimming pebbles on the water.

Then we went into town, and chose a great place for lunch. Afterwards I worked off some of their new found energy by insisting we walk right along the seafront to the little harbour, but there wasn't a lot going on there as the tide was out.

After walking back to the town, and refreshing ourselves with ice cream, we caught the train back one stop up the line to the pretty village of Dunster. There I seemed to spend my time trying to get some sense of history into them as we toured the castle. I failed. So, to cheer myself up, I took them into a truly old-fashioned teashop and bought us all a traditional cream tea.

Eventually we took the train homeward, and I delivered them to Susan and Ralph's house at about seven o'clock. 

It was Molly that met us at the door. I thought she looked better than she had that morning, "Hello, you look better. Feeling more relaxed?"

"Yes, I've been helping Ralph in the garden all afternoon. Susan's been out. But it was fresh air and relaxing."

"Good. You looked as if you needed it."

She just smiled, and then asked, "How have they been? Did you have a good day?"

"I'm sure they can tell you all about it. But, yes, I thoroughly enjoyed it."

"Would you like to come in for a cup of tea? I can't believe you don't need one." she asked, something that caught me totally unprepared.

I panicked. "No. I best be getting back."

"OK." She looked disappointed, "Do you want to see the boys again this weekend?"

"I'd love to. But, I want to do some shopping tomorrow, and I'm out in the evening. I promised Ralph I'd come to tea on Monday, and I know you are taking them to Church on Sunday...."

"They're already campaigning to be let off that...."

"Well, I'll take them all day Sunday if you want....."

"No. It'll do them good to go to Church on Easter Sunday. How about in the afternoon?"

"That sounds fine. I'll think up something for them to do. How about I collect them at about two thirty, say?"

"OK. Do you think I might come along?" It was almost as if she said it without thinking, and then she suddenly looked scared, "No! No! Forget that. It's meant to be your time with them."

"Well, let's see what I think up to do for the afternoon." I said, but I thought: No way. Monday tea will be quite enough!

As I drove off, I'd hardly gone a couple of hundred yards down the road, when I passed a silver BMW coming towards me. What I noticed was that it was Susan in the passenger seat, I didn't see who was driving. It fitted with Susan being out for the afternoon, and there was no surprise that she would get back for the boys return. I smiled wryly to myself.

On the Saturday I had a lazy day. I did go shopping, I treated myself to quite a spending spree on new clothes, a disgustingly expensive pair of designer sunglasses and some new cologne. I knew I was kitting myself out for the coming summer, wanting to catch some lucky lady's eye. I thoroughly enjoyed myself in the process, and best of all, I hardly thought of Molly or Monday at all.

Walking back to my flat, I passed an estate agent, and I suddenly realised that my three month tenure was going to be up soon. That didn't worry me particularly. It added to my daydreams, as I was sure there was some immaculate bachelor penthouse pad just waiting for me to rent it. It would probably have a roof garden with a fabulous view, where I could seduce a beautiful and sophisticated lady in the balmy warmth of a summer evening.

By seven o'clock I was knocking on the front door of Myra's flat in Bath. She was dressed and waiting for me. She even had a chilled bottle of white wine open and ready. We sat and drank a glass, and chatted companionably. I think both of us found it a bit of a strain to make sure everything was platonic, trying to make sure that we stayed within conversation that could not be misinterpreted.

Eventually, it all got too much for me, "This is ridiculous! I'm going to the theatre with a fabulously sexy girl. OK, I know we are just friends, and I genuinely want that. But we won't be that by the end of the evening if we continue to treat each other as fragile object d'art."

She let out a huge sigh, and beamed from ear to ear, "Thank God! I thought it was just me. Anyway, if we're lucky, and we spot Mr and Miss Right, we won't be together at the end of the evening."

"I bet I can spot a Miss Right, or at least a Miss She'll-Do before you spot a Mr Right." I said, and poked my tongue out.

"Well, if you're going for a Miss She'll-Do, then I'll find a Mr As-Long-As-I'm-Drunk." And our conversation happily deteriorated to a level we could handle.

We walked round to the theatre in perfect time, finding our seats with about three minutes to go before curtain up.

At the interval I was just squeezing my way through the crush with our drinks in the bar, when I bumped into Sharon Booth. I stopped to say hello, and Myra noticed and obviously recognised Sharon and came over. We hadn't been chatting long when a guy joined us, bringing a drink for Sharon and one for himself. Sharon introduced her husband, Duncan, and the four of us made happy small talk until the warning bell.

As we returned to our seats, Myra observed: "That'll be round the whole of Marston Abbey by ten o'clock on Tuesday morning."

I shrugged my shoulders, "So what? You are an HQ employee, not a member of my staff. And anyway, we are both adults, free to go to the theatre with whoever we like." But I did wonder what Peter Davies would think when the news got to his ear.

After the theatre we went and had something to eat, in a rather nice little bistro. Then we strolled back towards her flat. When we got close, she rather tentatively asked "Would you like to come in for coffee." 

I wasn't sure I could trust my willpower if I went into her flat. I looked at my watch, it was nearly midnight, "No. I think I'd better be getting back." I put my arm around her shoulders, gave her a friendly squeeze and a kiss on her cheek, "But thank you, Myra, for a great evening. I really mean it, and I'd love to do it again."

She laughed and flashed her eyes, "Do what again?"

I laughed, "That depends how drunk you are." And we broke apart at her front door, still friends. I suspect we were both pleased with that, I know I was. But on the drive home, I did think about that beautiful shaven pussy. I'd seen plenty of bald pussies before, especially on some of the professionals I'd used, but you don't go down on a whore's pussy, or I don't, but I definitely wanted to try eating out a totally bare pussy again.

I'd just parked my car, and was walking through the lobby when my phone rang, it was Myra.

I answered the phone with, "You can't live without me?" 

"I wouldn't mind seeing a little more of you ... in the flesh, so to speak. You don't feel like turning round and coming back, do you?"

"Myra, my darling, we both know that would be a mistake. A very enjoyable mistake, but a mistake."

"Yes, you're probably right. But...Oh, I'm so lonely."

"We are both lonely people. That's what happens at the end of a long affair. I miss Helene, I want a woman in my life, and you want a man. But we don't really want each other."

"My pussy wants parts of you right now."

I smiled to myself, "And parts of me would rise to the occasion. Promise you..." 

After that the conversation just drifted on, small talk of two lonely people. I'd got back to my apartment, and had poured myself a whisky, and we were still chatting. It must have been the best part of an hour before we finally closed.

There was a wistfulness in the conversation, but by the time we were finished I was relaxed, tired and ready for bed. 

Sunday morning was a late start and fairly lazy. But, I was becoming more and more nervous about meeting and talking with Molly. I couldn't see it as anything but painful, embarrassing, and with no benefit to me whatsoever. I was also a big enough coward that I wanted to put it off until tomorrow if I could. I wanted to avoid her joining myself and the boys this afternoon, but I didn't want to make avoiding her so obvious that it would be hurtful to her. She must have enough hurt and turmoil in her life, she didn't need me making it worse. I knew that some of my thoughts were contradictory, I didn't want to talk to her, but I didn't want to hurt her by not talking to her, but that's what ex-wives do to you I guess.

In the end, I decided that I could only play it straight. I decided that if it wasn't for her wanting to come along, I would probably take the boys out on their bikes for the afternoon. So, I decided that that is what I would do. If she had a bike at Ralph and Susan's then she could join us, if she wanted. If she couldn't cycle, but got upset with not being able to join us, then I would change plans and take the boys to a museum, she could join us doing that - if she must.

At two thirty I knocked on Ralph and Susan's front door. Ralph opened it, "Hi, Chris."

"Are Jamie and Ben ready? And is Molly there? She said she wanted to come along."

"Ah..... She's gone out with her mother. Susan was very determined that she wanted to go to a special service at Wells Cathedral, and wouldn't take No for an answer. Molly did say she wanted to go out with you and the boys, but...." He shrugged his shoulders.

I smiled, "Church this morning and Wells Cathedral this afternoon. She was never that religious when she was with me."

"And Susan isn't either. But there you are..." He shrugged.

"Well, it does mean that I can take the boys out on their bikes. If Molly really had wanted to come with us, then the best I could think of was to go to a museum."

"Oh! They'll be so disappointed! We dragged them to Church this morning. To have been dragged around a museum this afternoon would have been icing on the cake!" He laughed. "I'll get them and their bikes."

I took them off to Marston Abbey. I'd plotted a simple route that allowed me to park at the Abbey, and then it was really little more than cycling around the grounds, and out onto a couple of quiet country lanes, with a village half way along where I hoped we could find some refreshment.

As I drove along I became more and more annoyed with Molly. I'd geared myself up to having her with us, I'd even accepted that I might have to have some strange conversation with her, but she'd decided to go out with Susan. Actually, I knew Susan could be very determined about some things, and Molly tended to concede to her rather than have a row. If Susan had demanded that Molly go with her then Molly wouldn't have had much choice. But I was still annoyed.

As I pulled into the Abbey, Jamie exclaimed: "There's Peter's car." There was a silver BMW parked in one of the bays. 

"Don't worry, we're not here to see him. I'll go and just tell Security that I'm parking here." I guessed in his loneliness Peter was doing some extra hours, that wasn't surprising. I, of all people, should leave him alone to do it.

I helped them get their bikes off the rack, and then went into Reception. There was one security guard sitting at the desk. I flashed him my pass and explained who I was and what I was doing. Of course, he didn't object, well not if he wanted to keep his job!

I was still feeling annoyed with Molly, and increasingly nervous about the inevitable conversation that was to come. 

Jamie seemed to notice, "You're as ratty as Mummy."

"I'm sorry, Jamie. I think seeing your Mother go through another divorce is upsetting me. Is she short-tempered with you?"

"It's been worse this morning. I think she was upset with Nanny Susan for wanting to take her to the Cathedral this afternoon."

"Well, why did she go?"

He smiled at me, in a junior version of a man-to-man sort of way, "You know what Nanny Susan's like."

"Yes, I do." I laughed. "She does like things her own way. But she's been a very good grandmother to you and Ben, so you be careful what you say." We were approaching a village, "Look, that looks like an ice-cream sign outside that shop."

All three of us were sitting on a wall opposite the village pond eating our ice-creams and watching the ducks when Jamie started again, "Dad, if Peter and Mum are really going to get a divorce, why don't you say sorry to her and marry her again?"

Ben looked round and interjected before I'd framed a reply, "She would forgive you Dad. She forgave me when I broke her vase, and she was ever so upset about that, she cried and everything."

"Which vase did you break?"

"That blue one with two handles, do you remember it?"

"Yes, I remember it." It was a good vase, but not an heirloom. In fact it was the last present I ever gave Molly, on our seventh wedding anniversary. "But she loves you a lot, Ben. And people who love each other do forgive silly mistakes. I'm sure you didn't mean to break it, did you?"

"No. I was trying to see if it had a mark underneath, like the man said on the television. It might have been worth millions, but I dropped it."

"It wasn't worth millions, I promise you."

"That's what Mummy said. But she said it was very special to her, but she forgave me because she loves me. She loves you Dad. She'd forgive you."

Now that did catch me, "Whatever makes you say that? She loves Peter. You both know she does, or at least she did."




Back to Bristol Ch. 08



Ben stood up, in his argumentative pose, "But Peter always says that she loves you."

"And when does he say that?"

Jamie took up the argument, "He's been saying it a lot lately. But he's always said it when he shouts at Mummy." He paused and looked at me, wondering if he'd said too much, but then he added, "He woke me up the other night when he was shouting at Mummy, and he said it then."

"And what did Mummy say?"

"I couldn't hear, I could only hear him. I was lying in bed, but they woke me up. It was like when you shouted at Mummy before you went away and left us."

Now that hurt, "You heard that? Oh! I'm sorry Jamie. I never meant that you would hear that. That's part of the reason why I went away at first. I was so upset with Mummy and I knew I mustn't shout at her. But, she fell in love with Peter, and you know I had to leave forever."

"Well, say sorry and come back. Please Dad. Peter always wants to be our Dad. And he isn't. You are."

"And I always will be, I promise. Is that why you called him Elsie?"

Jamie thought about that, "Yes, a bit. He was always ... I don't know...."

And Ben added, "And when he got angry he was always so funny. He went all sort of red and white blotchy, and he'd clench his fists and grind his teeth. It was ever so funny to watch, Dad...."

"Well, goading him like that was rather cruel, you shouldn't. You know you shouldn't. But why do you think I've got to say sorry?"

"Dingo Roberts's Dad went off with a woman at his office. But he came back and said he was very, very sorry, and his Mummy said he could come back."

And Ben added, "And he's bought Dingo a Wii player, just to make up."

I laughed, "So, that's why you want me back, just so that I'll buy you a games console."

"You could buy us one anyway." Replied Ben, wistfully.

"Come on, let's get back on our bikes."

As we cycled along I digested that conversation. It was natural that the boys would want their parents back together. That was natural, comforting in some ways, but ultimately meaningless. Children were never a reason for putting together an unhappy marriage in my book. I already knew that Peter seems to claim that Molly loves me, but that's his paranoia. What was interesting was that the boys seemed to think that Molly thinks I was unfaithful to her. Now, to the best of my knowledge, Molly has never claimed that, but the boys must have a reason, and more than Dingo's Dad's little escapade.

When we were back at the Abbey and had the bikes loaded on the rack, I casually mentioned, "Has Mummy ever said anything that makes you think I loved another lady?"

Jamie looked at me, Ben seemed to ignore my question as if it wasn't for him. Eventually, Jamie said, "Well, Dad, she's seen what you're like. Helene? And now she's talking about you having some other girl, someone who you're going to marry?"

"I'm not going to marry anyone." I looked at Jamie, "OK, I nearly married Helene, but I didn't."

"You should have. She was sexy."

"Yes she was." I smiled, and then remembered who I was talking to, "No, I am not discussing the sexiness of my girlfriends with my eight year old son. Get in the car."

We drove along in silence after that, until Ben's voice came from the back seat: "Mummy cried when she married Peter."

"What? At the ceremony?"

"No. Before. I went to see her before in her bedroom. Before Grandpa took us to the hotel. I wanted to know whether I was going to have to call Peter Daddy, 'cos if I was then what was I going to call you?"

"And?" I prompted.

"Mummy was sitting at her dressing table and she was crying. And she said you were the best Daddy in the world, and we were to call Peter just Peter."

"Lots of brides cry on their wedding day. They are leaving one life behind and going to become someone else. Your Mummy stopped being Molly Bennett and became Mrs Molly Davies. People cry, but it doesn't mean they're not happy, Ben. I'm sure your Mummy was very happy when she married Peter. She wasn't crying at the ceremony or anything, was she?"

"No."

"Well, there you are then."

When we got back, I was unstrapping their bikes from the rack when Ralph came out.

I looked up, "Are Molly and Susan back from their pilgrimage?"

He smiled, "Yes. They're in the kitchen, having a cup of tea. Why not come in and join us?"

"No thanks. But I'm back tomorrow afternoon just as I promised you. What did Peter want on Friday by the way? Any progress?"

He looked puzzled, "Peter didn't come round on Friday. What makes you think he did?"

"Oh! Perhaps I was mistaken. I thought it was his car heading this way with Susan, just as I was driving away on Friday evening. I assumed he would have come in. Sorry."

"With Susan? You must be seeing things. Susan was down the road at Jean Pilton's talking about cakes. You know, the big white Georgian house on the corner."

"I know it. Yes, I must have made a mistake."

I handed the boys' bikes over to Ralph, and said my farewells and left.

On the way home, and for all that evening, and whilst lying in my bed staring at the ceiling until about two o'clock in the morning, I was thinking about what I knew of Molly and Peter's break-up and what this conversation that Molly wanted so much was going to be about.

On Easter Monday I slept late, probably because I hadn't gone to sleep until the early hours. So I went out and had a huge and very late breakfast, which I thought would last me until Susan's tea. My mind was still turning over the possibilities for Molly needing to talk to me this afternoon. As I left the restaurant, I found that the sun had come out, and I decided to go for a walk rather than head back to my flat.

A sat on a seat in Brandon Park, with the city of Bristol laid out in front of me, and I determined to go over it all one more time. 

I suppose the first and biggest question was to ask: Did Molly love me? Peter obviously thought so, but paranoia would explain that. Ralph had hinted at it, but never said it, and even if he thought it that could be wishful thinking. I was sure, absolutely certain, that Molly had never, ever implied that she loved me, not now and not then. The last mention of her love had been nearly five years ago when she had said that she thought she had loved me. And equally, Molly hadn't seen enough of me to have fallen in love with me all over again since I'd returned to Bristol.

I guessed it was possible that she had fallen out of love with Peter. Maybe it was just a passing obsession in the first place. It must have been an intense passion to desert me and marry him so quickly, unless she thought she was pregnant. Now, that was a thought! She was panicked by getting pregnant by her lover, divorces me and marries him. But I'm pretty sure she was on the pill all through that time, and we were making love right up to the very end. But maybe she has a bad miscarriage and can't have any more. That could explain the breakdown of the marriage, but not his claim of her love for me. It could explain why she had not had any further children. That could be a possibility.

There was a mercenary explanation: That she wants to swap the Deputy Head of Research for the Managing Director. Since we'd split up I had become quite well off. I was far from wealthy, but I had invested my half of the sale of our house well, I was paid very well and I'd received some very good bonuses over the years. I know that some girls would think like that, but I just didn't believe it of Molly. 

There seemed to be this red herring that the boys thought I was the guilty party and all I need do was say sorry. But I wasn't the guilty party and I wasn't looking to win her back. I couldn't remember if, in our heated exchanges five years ago, I had said that I was never unfaithful, but she never accused me of it. Well, I guess it wouldn't hurt if I said it now, clearly and for the record, but that's about as far as the boys' ideas went. 

So, what was the explanation, and what was it that Molly needed to see me about? If I assume that Peter's accusation was paranoia, that he really did have a bee in his bonnet about me, and it was causing real problems in their marriage, then may be that is what she wants to talk about. How can I help put his mind at rest? I shuddered at the thought of having to apologise to him for my part in this story. OK, I was wrong to have gone to bed with her, but I still think that was her fault more than mine. I had worked to make him feel persecuted at Franks, but I hadn't actually done anything wrong, so I hadn't got a lot to apologise for at work.

And if she does ask, what do I do? Well, it depends what she asks for. I suppose I could meet him for a quick, face to face assurance that I do not intend to run off with his wife, that both his marriage and his job are safe as far as I'm concerned. But I'd hate to even have to do that. And there is no way I'm going to get I involved in marriage counselling or long heartfelt sessions with them, even if not doing so sends him to the mental ward.

What do I say if she goes further? If, to ease his paranoia, she asks me to seek a transfer out of this job, out of Bristol, and out of their lives. I can understand that she would want me out of her life, I am a problem to her. But would she ask me to leave my sons behind completely? Maybe, if it helps the man she loves. Love is a powerful force. But my answer would be No. I might see how we could arrange things to be a bit easier on him, but I'd have to think very carefully before I accepted anything that was going to further separate me from them again over the next few years.

I looked at my watch, I'd sat on that bench for nearly two hours. I looked round, the weather really was warm and sunny, it was more like a summer's day than spring. I felt brighter, more confidant at facing whatever the afternoon may bring. I strolled back to my flat and changed clothes, into some of my new casual summer wear. I was not so much smart casual as brand new casual when I knocked on Susan and Ralph's door a few minutes after three o'clock.

Everyone, including Susan, seemed pleased to see me. Molly looked very tired and strained. I thought I saw a look in her eyes that immediately reminded me of the pleading look she gave me as she lay in bed watching me dress after Peter discovered us. I still didn't understand what I was meant to do, what she was pleading for. 

When I got a chance, when momentarily we were by ourselves, I did say "I really am sorry that you and Peter seemed to have fallen apart. I know how much you must have loved him. It must be horrible for you."

She looked as if she wanted to say something, her eyes looked a bit tearful, but Susan came back in the room before she had a chance. 

Susan's cheerfulness covered any awkwardness, and she started quizzing me on all I'd been doing since the divorce. When I told her about my time in the International Consultancy Division, constantly travelling, she jokingly (but with an edge in her voice) said it was a good job that I was a bachelor as it would have been a pretty miserable life for any wife. I tried to point out that it was precisely because I was a bachelor that I was scheduled for such a hectic travel schedule, that my married colleagues had a far more stable life, but I think it fell on deaf ears. She obviously knew something of Helene, and when I told her that I had left her behind in Holland she looked at me, quite sweetly, and said that she'd heard that Helene had been over to Bristol, but then she laughed, "It's alright Chris. You are entitled to have several girlfriends, I expect you like to play the field. You're not the stable home and commitment sort of man."

I suddenly realised that whilst smiling, whilst being warm and friendly, whilst being so pleased to see me, Susan was doing her very best to show that I was a shit husband, and that Molly was so much better off with Peter. Well, maybe she was, I'd accepted that long ago.

I learnt my lesson and after that I became quite taciturn. In fact my monosyllabic replies over the tea table began to become embarrassing. So I generated a conversation with Ralph about some of the flowers and plants I'd seen on my travels. I hit a rich vein, it soon became obvious that Ralph would dearly love to travel and see some of his favourite plants in their natural habitat. It was pure luck, but it upset Susan wonderfully, because it was obviously a sore point between her and Ralph, as she was the one who refused to travel. 

After tea, Ralph suggested that myself, Molly, Jamie and Ben should play a board game around the table. The boys loved the idea, and Molly and myself were not given any option. Cluedo was chosen as apparently Ben had only just learnt to play. Cluedo was a game that had always slightly worried me, a happy family game based on all the fun of brutal violent murder. This time, it was hard on the emotions, because Molly and myself soon fell into an unspoken collusion to make sure that Ben had as much chance as Jamie, although Jamie did win the first game. That meant we had to play again, and this time the adults' pact ensured that Ben got the glory, and Molly insisted that it was a fair draw, and we should play something else.

This time it was Monopoly, which Ben said he had played before. It was quite fun, and at least Molly and myself could make Ben think about what he was doing with "Are you sure you want to do that?" or "Ben, why don't you build some houses?" and similar broad and blatant hints. It was a very happy couple of hours, even if it had huge emotional overtones.

Once Susan and Ralph had tidied the kitchen, Ralph had disappeared out into the garden, but Susan came and sat on a chair in the corner of the room, reading a magazine. At one point I asked if she and Molly had enjoyed going to Wells Cathedral yesterday, and asked what it was they went to do. Apparently there was a choral concert of Easter music, which from what I knew of both Molly and Susan, didn't sound like their sort of thing, but maybe they needed some mother and daughter time. By the look on Molly's face I got the impression that it may only have been Susan that needed some daughter time, so I let the subject drop.

Eventually I started looking at my watch, and Molly was saying this would have to be the last round, when Ralph came in and suggested that Susan and he should see the boys to bed, leaving Molly and myself to talk. Susan really bridled at the idea, apparently she was in the middle of an interesting article, and Ralph and Molly should see the boys to bed. But Ralph was calm but insistent, and a very reluctant Susan dragged two reluctant boys upstairs towards the bathroom.

I looked at Molly, "I think he's been trying to get us together at some time this weekend."

She smiled, "And Susan's being doing her best to try to make sure we don't." 

There was a very pregnant pause between us, which eventually I broke, "You realise that today would have been our eleventh wedding anniversary if we'd made it, don't you."

"I'm not likely to forget. Our marriage was very special....." She seemed to want to say more, but it seemed she couldn't find the words.

So, I stepped in, "Molly, I said it earlier, but I am truly sorry that you and Peter have problems. I hope that what happened that Friday isn't the only reason. I want you to know that it was a first for me."

Her eyes clouded, I guess she was worried about what was coming next..

But I continued, "That was the first time I've ever been to bed with a married woman. I don't do that sort of thing. You do know that I was never unfaithful to you for as long as we were married...."

Her eyes filled with tears, she stood up, "Ralph said....... But you just have to rub it in......" and she ran out of the room.

I sat there. What did I say? What's got into her? I was stunned. I sat there, alone and not quite sure what to do. I went out into the hall; I could hear the noises of two excited boys getting ready for bed with Susan and Ralph trying to chivvy them on. I guess Ralph heard me moving because he came down stairs.

I was heading for the front door when Ralph called to me, "What happened?"

I looked back at him and shrugged, "I wish I knew. Try asking your daughter." We paused, I guess I was glaring at him, "I give up! Count me out next time you want to play happy families, Ralph. I think I'd better go."

He looked at me with a look of hurt disappointment, but I turned my back and left.

I got to my car and drove away, but I'd hardly got half a mile down the road before I pulled into the side. I was gripping the steering wheel so tight my knuckles were white. And because my hands couldn't shake, it seemed that the rest of me would shake instead. How dare she? Why does she do this to me? After all these years, she can get me this upset. And what did I do wrong? I would have thought that most wives and even ex-wives would be pleased to hear that their husbands had been faithful to them. Maybe she preferred the idea that I screwed around on her, maybe that's what she wished for. Well, I'm sorry Molly, but I loved you and stayed faithful to you until you deserted me for Peter Fucking Davies. 

Back in my flat I must admit I hit the whisky bottle. I was so angry, mainly with myself. I was angry that I had worried so much about Molly and her broken marriage. I was angry that I cared so much that it made me worry. And there was no possible outcome of it that was to my benefit, and yet I still tried. I'm a bloody fool.

Thoughts like that went round and round in my head. They became more muddled and less meaningful in direct proportion to the whisky drunk! Now, that was a surprising discovery at the forefront of human knowledge!

I was in the office well before Carole on the Tuesday, but when she came in she brought me a coffee. As she put it on the desk, I was writing some notes in the margin of a report from the IT Department, and I ignored her.

In a very sarcastic tone I heard, "Well, thank you for the coffee, Carole. And did you have a good Easter, Carole? Yes, thank you, Carole. It's only having to go back to work for Mr Grumpy that's a problem."

I looked up at her for a long pause, she just stared back at me and waited.

Eventually, I cracked. "I'm sorry Carole. I had a lousy day yesterday, and a lousy night to follow. I really do hope you had a good Easter break. You deserved it. What did you do?"

She still waited, but then her face softened, and she smiled, "We went up to Stroud where I have an aged Aunt and Uncle. They are coming up to their seventieth wedding anniversary in a few months, and there was a meeting to plan their party. So I met a few cousins who I hadn't seen for quite a while, which was nice. But what went wrong for you yesterday? And it looks like you were drinking last night, going on your eyes this morning."

"Seventy years married. I only managed seven." I paused to smile at her, she obviously was waiting for the second part of my answer, "Oh, you know, you said it yourself, shit happens."

"And what particular shape did this particular turd take?" She asked, sitting down.

I thought about my reply, "Carole, if Rick told you that he had been totally faithful to you all your married life, you'd be pleased, wouldn't you?"

"Well, it's not the sort of conversation that comes along very often. But, Yes, I'd be pleased. Put it this way, if he couldn't say it, then he would regret it in a big, big way. But what's this about? It's Molly I assume."

"Yes. Jamie and Ben seemed to think that Molly might have thought that I had been unfaithful to her when we were married, that it might even have been the reason we broke up. On top of which, Molly's father Ralph kept going on at me that Molly needed to talk to me about something, I don't know what. Well, yesterday we were just getting round to this big talk that apparently was so important, and I thought I'd clear any uncertainty by saying that I had been totally faithful. So she bursts into tears and runs out of the room. Big talk over! Explain that if you can."




Back to Bristol Ch. 08



"I think I'll get my coffee while I think about that." And she went off to her desk, only to return a couple of minutes later with her big desk diary and a cup of coffee.

"And?" I asked.

"I can think of two possible explanations. You said your marriage broke up because she had an affair with Peter Davies, right?" 

I nodded.

"Well then, perhaps she's very sensitive about that. She feels guilty that she allowed the affair to get physical before she'd said anything to you. Some people would say that if a marriage gets to the end of the road for whatever reason, then it should be broken up before you start getting too close to someone else. And you saying you were a good boy only emphasises that she wasn't a good girl."

"Pretty unrealistic in this day and age, don't you think? People jump into bed because they met and fancied each other over lunch these days. Pretty unlikely that she'd build an important meaningful relationship with someone, but not have sex whilst she goes through the divorce process. OK, what's your other idea?"

"That Peter Davies is a ladies man. Their marriage is on the rocks, maybe partly because of his having other interests, maybe several other interests over the years. So it's pretty upsetting to be reminded that husband number one was a darned sight better husband than the one you swapped him for. Peter Davies had quite a reputation before they were married, maybe marriage just made him a little more discreet."

I thought about that, it was certainly something I hadn't thought of. "But he says he loves her."

Carole smiled, "He wouldn't be the first husband who swears he loves and adores his wife, and that what he does in the afternoon with someone else's wife is nothing to do with his love or his marriage, it's just sex. And sometimes those men are also extremely jealous of their wives having any sort of relationship with any other man, including ex-husbands who suddenly turn up out of the blue."

I followed her train of thought, "And that jealousy probably stems from them knowing there are other men out there who behave like they do, they judge all men by their own standards." I smiled, "You may have hit on something."

I sat pondering her idea, and the more I thought about it, the more I liked it. Eventually, I dragged myself back to work, "What's the diary for?"

"To tell you that starting in about five minutes, you have an action packed day. Second to remind you that you must be on the 12:00 train tomorrow if you are going to make the two thirty meeting tomorrow afternoon. Third, to tell you that you thought you were having dinner with Stephen Parkinson tomorrow night. Well you're not. He's cried off for some undisclosed reason, Pamela sent me an email. Fourth, to remind you that the last sensible train back to Bristol on Thursday, after your dinner at the Savoy, is 22:15, and the very last train is the 23:30. Be on one of those. Anything you want me to arrange for Wednesday evening?"

"No. I'll probably just take the opportunity to go for a drink with someone at Head Office and catch up on a bit of gossip. My hotel booked, by the way?"

"Of course."

"OK, Could you do me a big favour when I'm out of the office this week?"

"If I can. What?"

"I'm running out of company lease on my flat. Can you contact the management, and ask how much they'd charge me for an extension? And do a round of the local estate agents, and get some details of furnished flats to rent. Something quite classy, suitable for an eligible bachelor on the make."

"I'll enjoy that one. I always like looking at other people's homes."

"OK. Anything else?"

She looked at me, and I felt there was more to come, "Dennis Murrell is happily spreading the rumour that you've bust up Peter Davies's marriage."

I frowned, "Thanks! That's just what I need. OK. Get him up here right now." 

Carole headed for her desk, and I sat and thought about Dennis Murrell. He was a pain in the arse as a Production Director, he lived in the past. But if he's making personal attacks on me, then he's gone too far. 

I buzzed Carole. "Have you got hold of Dennis Murrell?"

"Of course, he's on his way."

"Well hold him with you, make him wait. And get me Neil Davidson. If I'm going to give a director a thorough bollocking, I guess I should make sure with Personnel that I do it within the rules."

Within two minutes, Neil Davidson was coming through my office door. 

"Close the door, please Neil."

He looked concerned, "As Dennis is sitting outside I guess this is about Thursday lunchtime."

I took a flyer, "You were there?"

"Yes, I told him to shut up, that he was out of order."

"Well, as an eye-witness, you can tell me about it."

Neil shrugged, "We were at lunch in the buffet room. And Dennis started on that you coming back here to Bristol, and having a relationship with your ex, had broken up Peter Davies's marriage. From that he moved on to generally curse you as a management robot sent down from ITI to practice the latest stupid bit of fashionable management theory. In general, you were wet behind the ears, and in his elegant phrase, you were fucking useless."

"If there is anyone in our top team who is fucking useless, it's Dennis himself. I'd already decided that he's not going to be with us for much longer, but he hasn't done himself any good with this little outburst." I paused and thought about things.

Neil filled in the pause, "Well, he could go next February and he really wouldn't have a leg to stand on. He'll be sixty, and at his level he can only go on to sixty five by mutual agreement. I know he expects to, but you could withhold your consent."

"Well, he would certainly be going then, if he lasts that long." I paused again, thoughtfully, "Who else was in the room?"

"I think all the tables had someone on them. John Wheeler and one of his salesmen, Peter Barnes, were at one table with a client. Bill Elswood was at my table with Dennis. After that I can't really tell you, I didn't really take note."

I buzzed Carole, "Get John Wheeler and Peter Barnes up here, and Bill Elswood as well. Leave Dennis stewing."

I looked at Neil, "I'm taking this very seriously. I reckon a Director shouting his mouth off like that is a sackable offence. If it was overheard by other tables, not just speaking in confidence between fellow directors, then he bloody well goes, right now, this morning."

We sat in silence for a minute, then I asked, "Did he define what he thought my relationship with Molly Davies involved?" I wanted to know if my being caught in bed with her was now common knowledge.

"No, not really. He just seemed to think you were building a relationship with her that put unreasonable pressure on the marriage. But then he moved on to just what he thought of you as an MD."

Just then Peter Barnes and Bill Elswood trooped in, with Peter Barnes apologising, "Sorry, but John has the week off."

"OK, this should be quick, you were both in the lunch room on Thursday when Dennis was there, talking about me." I turned to Peter Barnes, "Peter, you had a client. Did you hear what Dennis was saying, and did the client hear him?"

"I heard him, it was rather embarrassing. But the client was just a new member of the board of Wyvern Health. They're old clients, and the new boy was just making a courtesy visit. I guess he heard, but didn't recognise the significance. I'm not too worried, John and myself quickly covered up and took his attention away. I don't think any harm was done."

"Bill, you were at the same table, so you must have heard him. But who else was in the room and would they have heard him?"

"I can't really tell you, Chris. Except there was a group of juniors from my lot. One of the girls is pregnant, and very happy about it, and she and some of her workmates went into the buffet room for lunch on the back of it. I sent out for cream cakes in the afternoon to help celebrate. While we were eating them with our afternoon cuppa, they were talking about what they had overheard. I quashed bad talk fairly quickly, but I guess there would be some gossip in the pub later, you can't stop it."

"OK, thanks you two." And they trooped back out of the room. I looked at Neil, "He goes. And he goes now. Are you happy that it is serious enough? I will invite him to resign with immediate effect, but he might fight it."

"I hate doing this sort of thing, but if he fought it then he'd lose. He's a bloody fool, but Chris, if he's really contrite, think about giving him a chance. He's fifty nine and he won't get another job at his age."

I buzzed Carole, "Ask Bill to join us, please."

I got up from my desk and went and sat on one side of my conference table, indicating that Neil should sit beside me. I waved Dennis in, and pointed to a chair on the other side.

When we were all seated, I gave Dennis my sternest look. He met my stare, but did look uncertain.

"Dennis, you can guess what this is about. It is totally unacceptable for you to make the problems in the marriage of a long time colleague and senior member of staff into company gossip, and then to go on to be destructive about my management, ITI ownership and your dislike of group policy."

"I was talking to fellow directors. I have a right to make my views known."

"Your long term colleague, Peter Davies, deserves greater respect for his marriage problems than for you to make them company gossip. I don't know what's gone wrong in their marriage, and I spent several hours yesterday with my ex-wife and my exs and my sons. But I do know this, any marriage break-up is sad and very painful for the people concerned. They deserve respect, privacy and not gossip from senior colleagues."

Dennis looked as if he was about to say something, but I continued, "And you weren't in private. You were overheard by a senior sales executive and a client. That is unforgivable. In addition you were overheard by junior members of the client support team, the very people who carry the image of this company to our client base. And you could have reasonably known you would be overheard. I want your resignation now, with immediate effect. You will receive whatever your contract states as your entitlement or the legal minimum, whichever is the greater."

Dennis just stared at me, I don't think he ever believed it would come to this. I think he saw himself as untouchable. 

Eventually he responded, "You fucking little bastard. You come in here. What? It's only been a few weeks, and you start all your namby pamby soft management ideas. Being friendly with the juniors. You're like a fucking politician sidling up to everyone, even the bloody office cleaners I expect. But, then that's all you are, a politician. Well, I'll fight you all the way. I don't know what my rights are, but I ain't leaving this company because a little boy scout from ITI tells me I've got to go. I joined this company when Walter Franks was still around, and I'm not quitting now."

I wrote on my notepad 'Contrite!?!?!' and slid it along to where Neil could see it.

"Don't fight me on this, Dennis, because I warn you, you'll lose. And you'll lose with no compensation whatsoever. Now I can fire you for gross misconduct, with no pay beyond today. Or I can let you resign with full contractual pay, paid tax free ex-gratia. It's your choice. Which will it be? I'll go and tell Carole to type up a resignation letter for you, which you can sign, or I'll put into action the alternative. You've got as long as it takes Carole to type."

I left the room to talk to Carole. And waited while we composed and she typed a simple resignation letter. When I returned, my guess is that Neil had been counselling Dennis.

Dennis tried to look sorry, "I think I just said some things that I shouldn't. I'm sorry."

I looked at him, "So am I. I can't have a senior director of this company that says things he shouldn't. Now how do you want to play it?"

He looked at me obviously not comprehending, so I added, "Are you resigning, or am I sacking you?"

Dennis realised that his half-hearted partial apology hadn't been enough, and his face flushed angrily, "Fuck you, Bennett. Peter Davies was right when he fucked your wife years ago. And she wasn't the first wife he'd fucked, and a couple of them worked here." He paused and looked at me, "You don't understand do you? That's what real men like Peter and I do. We see something we want, and we take it. That's what alpha males do. Not little schoolboys from head office." He looked at Neil, who had a real look of pained horror on his face as he saw an old colleague commit career suicide in front of him, "And you needn't look so innocent and hurt, Neil. I saw you at that weekend conference last year. You, chatting up that little barmaid. It's what men do, even men like you do; it's natural. Was she any good? Did you enjoy screwing her?...."

Where was this coming from? And what relevance did it have? I interrupted his flow, before he dug his grave any deeper, "I don't know whether I'm an alpha male or not. I do know that I'm Managing Director of this company, and I have the full support of the shareholders in that job. And I know I don't need men like you in my team. Now, are you resigning or are we going to have a long drawn out fight where you get substantially less?"

Dennis suddenly saw that he was defeated, and tears welled up in his eyes. He went very white. "You can't sack me. What will I do? What will I tell my wife? Please, Chris......"

"Sign the letter, Dennis, and Neil will see to it that you are dealt with decently. But there's no room for your attitude in this company. Not any more. I'm sorry." I paused to look at him, "There is a school of thought that Peter Davies's problem is of his own making. The same goes for you. Now sign the letter."

I passed him the resignation letter, and a pen. He signed it and left with Neil, without a further word.

After they'd gone Carole came in with a concerned look on her face. I was still just sitting at the conference table, in quiet anti-climax. She went out and came back with a glass of water for me, "Are you OK?"

"Yes. That sort of thing comes with the territory. But it isn't much fun."

Just then Neil returned and sort of hovered, waiting for Carole to go. She took the hint, with a last comment, "I cancelled your nine o'clock, obviously. But you've only got ten minutes 'til your next one."

As she left she closed the door behind her. I looked at Neil. "Is he OK? Should we get someone to drive him home?"

"I've already arranged it. One of my guys is with him whilst he clears his desk. And he has instructions to drive Dennis home if he has to, and then take a taxi back. What do you want to do about announcements and a replacement?"

"The announcement should be that Dennis decided to leave to pursue alternative interests, as he had disagreements with the new owners about company strategy. As for replacement, put his deputy in temporary charge. I'll see her and talk to her next week, I just won't get a chance before then. But she's good, and should be able to hold the fort."

"Um...About what he said about the barmaid...."

I looked at Neil and waited until he continued, "It was very flattering to flirt with a nineteen year old, and she was very attractive. But, I'm fifty three and married, for God's sake. It was a mistake, but that's all it was, flirting..."

"I didn't hear him say a thing."

"Well, I wouldn't want my wife to get the wrong idea. Nothing happened, I promise you."

"As I said, I didn't hear a thing. So I can't possibly say anything to her, can I Neil? Don't worry. We all make mistakes once in a while."



Back to Bristol Ch. 09



The rest of Tuesday was just plain busy. It wasn't a good day. It started with me being tired, upset and frustrated. Then I'd had to sack a senior director, and although I knew it was right that he should go, it was inevitable that I would still worry about the man underneath all the business bravado. Sacking people is simply not a nice thing to have to do. But he's only a few months off being able to draw a pension, and an ex-gratia payment should see him through.

It was the evening and I was back in my flat before I really had time to reflect on the events of the day. I began to really like Carole's theory that Peter Davies was a cheat even in his marriage. It was consistent with what I know of him before his marriage. It may explain a little of why Molly was willing to cheat on him with me. And it would explain why she was upset to be reminded that I didn't cheat on her, ever.

Interestingly and by chance, Dennis Murrell's little outburst seemed to support the theory.

But it didn't explain what it was that was so important for Molly to want to talk to me about. There seemed to be only two possibilities. She was going to ask if she could swap back again, that her first husband was a better buy than the second, so she wanted to come back. But I still didn't believe that of Molly. She was too true to her own emotions, she married for love, not because the man was good husband material. The second possibility was that she was going to ask me to move away and leave them in peace. That despite what sort of man Peter Davies was, she was going to see it through. I remembered that was her commitment to Ann Walters years ago when they had met.

Well, whatever the explanation, my answer was the same - No. I'm not taking her back because she sees me as the lesser of evils, nor am I giving up my children.

On Wednesday, I spent the morning doing my bit for a sales presentation, but it ran late. I got back to my office pretty certain I was going to miss my train for London. 

Carole was waiting for me, "Don't worry. I've packed your briefcase with all the files you'll need. Now give me your keys, I'll drive you to the station, and then I'll take your car and park it at your flat, I'll leave the keys with the porter, and take a taxi back here."

As she drove along, she asked, "And how goes my soap opera? What's the latest instalment?"

"I don't think there is one. I haven't heard from Helene since she was in my office. I guess that's for the best. And Myra and myself are OK. I think we are at the beginning of what could be a very good personal and business friendship."

"And how about the one great love of your life?"

"Molly? Well, I hope you're wrong. She may be a great love of my life, but I hope there's room for a second great love one day. Just, not yet. I'm in a pretty good place at the moment. I'm beginning to build a good relationship with my sons. I'm back living in a city I know and love. And I'm the managing director of a great company with a great future. Things are pretty good. But I'll admit there's a vacancy for a little companionship, a little delecting as you would say. But that's all."

"So nothing's happened about her tearful walk out?"

"No. But I wasn't expecting anything. Anti-climax seems to be the name of the game with her. I really do think that Molly is a nice person, she doesn't mean to hurt or upset people. The same's true for Ralph, her father. But I begin to feel that they are playing mind games with me. Maybe they don't mean to. But they do, and I'm fed up with it. I'll sit peacefully on the train and think about it for a couple of hours."

"I hope you don't. I put the first draft of your quarterly report to the Group Board in your case. I need you to go through it and mark it up with corrections."

"Something to look forward to!"

Wednesday afternoon in Head Office was good. I seemed welcome, and anyone who I saw and who I respected as having influence, seemed to think I was doing OK at Franks. I was called into HR. They knew of the Dennis Murrell debacle, but they weren't surprised. Apparently, Charles Dyer and the takeover team had spotted Dennis as having to go when they did their review. HR just wanted to be sure there would be no nasty repercussions. 

Coming out of HR, who do I bump into the delectable but now untouchable Myra?

"Hello, I wasn't expecting to see you here."

She smiled, "I could say the same."

"Are you doing anything this evening by any chance?"

"Yes. Heading back to Bath. I'm in Bristol tomorrow."

"Could I convince you to catch a later train, and we'll have an early dinner? I'm at a bit of a loose end. I'm sure we can grab something to eat and you catch a nine or nine thirty train."

"Sounds good. I'll see you in Reception at six say?"

Dinner with Myra was good. Maybe because there was no shadow of 'what happens later' hanging over us, we both knew that later she was going to catch a train for Bath. After we left the restaurant, we took one taxi between us, first going up to Paddington Station to drop off Myra, and then to head back to my hotel in St James. It was just after we'd dropped Myra at the station that my phone rang. It was Molly. My first thought was for the boys.

"Hello, Molly. I wasn't expecting to hear from you. Are the boys OK?"

"They're fine. Don't worry. Are you OK to talk, you're not at dinner or anything?"

"No. I'm in the back of a taxi just going round Marble Arch, and I've had dinner."

"Are you alone?"

"Yes."

"Did you have a lonely dinner?"

I felt myself reacting: mind your own bloody business. Maybe that's why I replied, "No. I had dinner with Myra Hepsted. You've seen her. She was the girl I took to the RNIB Ball, remember?"

"Oh!" I could hear the disappointment in her voice. Good. Maybe her love life is in tatters, there's no reason for her to think mine is. It is, but there's no reason for her to know that.

I left a pause, before I asked, "What do you want, Molly?"

"I just wanted to say.... Well, for a start I wanted to say how wonderful it was, having all four of us playing board games on Monday, it was like we used to be."

A wave of sadness and regret hit me. How dare she conjure up emotions for something she chose to break up? We'd still be a family is it wasn't for her. "Yes it was. It's a pity we don't do that anymore. I wonder why?"

I waited for a reply. There was nothing, until there was an eventual deadness to the sound and I knew she had gone. Sod her!

I stared at the dead phone, and I felt that knot in my stomach. Why does she do this? How does she do this? We've been divorced for four years, and yet one phone call and she can get me making thoughtless barbed comments, she can get me so angry, so frustrated, so ...I don't know what. 

I accept that she is a great love of my life, but how many girls have I been with since? How many miles have I travelled around the world? How many times have I cum without a thought of her? Surely, I should be over her by now?

I realised that my cab was stationary, we'd arrived at my hotel and the driver was waiting for me to get out.

Thursday was hectic, a major sales presentation in the morning, followed by a meeting with our American partners who hold the patents on our scanner, then some internal meeting, and finally another sales dinner at the Savoy Hotel. In the end I caught the last train, a stopper all the way to Bristol, and eventually I got home at two o'clock on Friday morning.

But I was up at my usual time. I changed the clothes in my overnight bag from the dirty ones from the London trip to clean ones for the Exeter trip. I decided not to bother with breakfast, but, between cups of coffee, I did walk down the road for a paper. 

When I got back I collected my car keys and loaded up. I was standing on the top step at the main entrance waiting for Myra to turn up, when who should come along, but Molly.

I looked at her, I was suspicious, "Molly! Good morning. What brings you to see me this early on weekday?"

"Carole told me that if I wanted to see you before the weekend, my only chance was now."

"Oh. And?"

"And I want to say I'm sorry. I'm sorry I rang off the other night. I'm sorry that I ran away on Monday.... ..it's just that you say these things. I know you must hate me, but why do you have to say things to upset me? It's been five years now...."

The irony of it struck me, "I guess I could ask you the same question. Anyway, what is so important?" I paused before she could answer, "I'm a bit pushed for time right now. I'm going away for the weekend, down to Exeter, I'm hoping Carole's booked a nice country house hotel outside Exeter somewhere. But I'll be back on Sunday."

"Well, I wanted to say sorry. And I wanted to agree some time when we might talk. I want to talk to you, Chris, please...."

"So you and Ralph keep saying. Well actually I want to talk to you, I don't know what to get Jamie for his birthday. I don't want to buy him anything that'll upset you or Peter. But, it'll have to be Sunday, I'm afraid. How about I have the boys on Sunday afternoon, about two thirty say, and then we can talk when I come back. Will they be at your place or Ralph and Susan's?"

Just then, we both turned, as Myra was staggering up the steps with a bag over each shoulder, a briefcase in one hand and a very heavy looking overnight case in the other.

Myra just looked at me, "Car keys please. I'll put these in your car." She glanced at Molly and probably realised that she was interrupting a private conversation, "Sorry, I'll wait for you in the car. OK?" and she held her hand out for the keys. I gave them to her and she staggered off.

I looked round at Molly, she looked rather shaken, which was odd, Myra wasn't that rude. 

"So where will they be?" I prompted.

Molly started down the steps, "Oh. They'll be at Ralph and Susan's. I'm going there for Sunday lunch....it doesn't really matter....no, it doesn't matter." And she was gone.

I watched her go. I think I was probably shaking my head in bewilderment. 

I walked over to my car, Myra was sitting in the passenger seat, waiting for me, "I hope I didn't butt into a private conversation."

"Nothing I understood. Don't worry. Why so many bags?"

"Oh! I'm the delivery girl for a whole set of ITI Staff Handbooks, and ITI Pension Scheme Books. That's all."

Friday in Exeter was good. Stephen Hobbs had heard of Dennis Murrell's demise. He was very cautious in his words, until I let him understand that I wasn't sorry to lose Dennis, when Stephen smiled and just added, "So can we give up steam hammers and the water wheel and use electricity and other modern gadgets?"

I did tell him that I may ask him to help in some way as I reorganise the Production team, but I wasn't sure how yet. He was happy to be in Bristol whenever I asked. Later, he offered to take me to dinner, but I'd already arranged to meet Myra.

My dinner with Myra was much like Wednesday night. We had a pleasant dinner, and we were agreed that the Exeter operation had great potential. We soon had put together a shopping list of things we needed to know to help us plot a future. We didn't have a lot of time for socialising, as Myra had found out that the last train from Exeter to Bath was at about eight thirty, but it was a tribute to our professional relationship that we could get through a lot of work in a short time, and I dropped her at Exeter St David's station just in time for her train.

On Saturday, I became a tourist in Exeter. It was a city that, although really only just down the road from Bristol, I hardly knew. And I was impressed, I liked it. And in the evening, I turned up for the Company Barn Dance. Again I was impressed by the nice people that all the staff seemed to be. At one point I remember sitting by myself for a moment, thinking it's funny how birds of a feather do flock together. Just like Dennis Murrell was obviously a friend of that other alpha male, Peter Davies; so Stephen Hobbs seemed to have recruited a bunch of nice characters, like himself.

With a few glasses of wine in both of us, I felt relaxed enough with Stephen that I asked him, "Why did you allow yourselves to be taken over by TDF? You must have had a great future as an independent operator."

He smiled, "The previous owners were two brothers who both wanted to retire. TDF had a pretty big chunk of our order book. The brothers were both our top management and our sales team. Without them we didn't have either a sales channel or a managing director, and they wanted their money. It was their retirement fund, you can't blame them. We're a bunch of engineers. Good ones, but that's what we are. And we didn't have the leadership to get us the money for a management buy-out." And he turned and looked at me with a very questioning look in his brown eyes.

I was flattered, but also the MD of the parent company, I smiled, "Managing Directors are two a penny. They're easy to find." And we let the matter drop.

The Barn Dance went on until well after midnight. The following morning, Sunday, I slept late, had a wonderful cooked breakfast and read the Sunday papers, before setting out to drive back to Bristol. I'd enjoyed Friday and Saturday, and life was pretty good.

I turned up at Ralph and Susan's at almost exactly two thirty. The boys ran out and jumped into the car. Beyond a Hello and a smile from both Susan and Molly, nothing was said. 

I was just about to get in my car when Ralph came up to me. I looked at him, I would guess somewhat suspiciously, "Yes, Ralph?"

"I just thought I'd let you know, I asked Susan about seeing Peter on Good Friday. You were right, Peter was heading here, just as Susan was walking back from Jean Pilton's. He stopped and gave her a lift for the final few yards. But he saw your car here and didn't come in, he didn't want an argument."

That didn't sound right to me, but I just said, "Well, it isn't important. It wasn't keeping me awake at night, Ralph." And I smiled and got in my car.

As I drove away, I realised what was wrong with the explanation. It was total crap, but I'm not going to worry about it.

The weather wasn't so good, so I just took the boys back to my place. I got them something to eat later on, and we watched a couple of DVD's. I was quite pleased that they seemed happy not doing anything particularly special. But I was still nervous about whatever the evening was to hold. I was about to have the promised talk with Molly - again!

When I took the boys back, it was Susan that opened the door. 

"Hi, Two young tearaways returned, duly fed, watered and entertained."

"OK. Thank you." 

I stood there and waited, expecting to be asked in.

Susan looked at me, "Is there something else?"

"Yes. I was expecting to see Molly. She wants to talk to me apparently."

Susan smiled, very sweetly, "Well, she's not here. So, you can assume she doesn't want to talk to you, apparently."

I just about said "Oh." before the door was shut in my face.

I walked away very slowly, but with increasing anger. Fuck her! She's done it again. She comes to me on Friday with how important it is to talk, and now she's not here. Well, damn her, and fuck her, and I don't give a shit anymore!

Ralph came down the side of the house. I looked at him.

"She does need to talk to you, Chris. She's gone home, but you could go round there."

"No, Ralph, I couldn't. I've just about had a bellyful of you and your bloody daughter telling me that we need to talk, and every time, every bloody time she runs away. And I am most certainly not chasing around after her."

He watched me, and when he thought I'd calmed down a bit, he said, "She's upset and scared. Please, Chris, go and see her. There's so much she should talk to you about."

"No there bloody well isn't. She wanted to talk to me, so we go out to lunch, and I spend the whole afternoon with her, and she didn't say a damned thing. Then she comes to my office, takes one look at me and walks out. Then you say we must talk, so I come round here last Monday, on what would have been my wedding anniversary of all days, and when I tell her that I tried to be a halfway decent husband, she bursts into tears and runs away. Then she phones me, and rings off. And then she turns up on my doorstep and runs away with it apparently not mattering at all. And now she's hiding at home. I've had enough of it. I'm pissed off, fed up and angry."

He smiled, conspiratorially, "Women, eh? We can't live with 'em and we can't live without 'em."

That supercilious little epithet just made me angrier. I think at that point I lost it, "Fuck off, Ralph. I'm totally pissed off with you and your bloody daughter. You may like playing silly mind games. You may be happy that your wife lies to you. You may think your poor little daughter is all hurt and upset with me. But I don't fucking care. Understand? No more. Not now, not ever."

Ralph looked hurt. We stared at each other in some stand-off.

My problem was that I liked Ralph. He was an honest and trustworthy man, I was sure of it. I just couldn't really believe that he was playing games or interfering in my life without reason. 

He very tentatively asked, "Cup of sherry? I think we both need one."

"Only if we can keep off your bloody daughter and her need to talk to me. OK?"

He didn't answer, but we both walked down their garden to his shed. As he poured two very healthy cups of sherry, he asked, "Why do you think Susan lies to me?"

I regretted throwing that one at him, it wasn't important, and it was in the heat of the moment. I sighed, but I answered him, "Because I was driving away from this house, down the road, that is turning left out of your drive. OK?"

He nodded, so I continued. "I passed Susan in Peter's car about three hundred yards down the road. Now, Jean Pilton's house is about four hundred yards up the road the other way. So, Peter didn't pick Susan up on the way back from Jean Pilton's. And by the time they got here, my car would have been totally out of sight. There would have been no reason for Peter not to come in. OK?"

Ralph looked troubled, but then he brightened with, "I'm sure there's a perfectly reasonable explanation. Let's not make a big thing of it."

"I agree. There are a lot more important things in this world."

There was a long silence, before Ralph asked, "How's Myra?"

I looked at him, surprised. "She's very well as far as I know. Why?"

"You told me she's not in your life. Right?"

"Right. She and I had a very, very quick fling some weeks ago, But we're just friends and colleagues now. Why?"

"Think about it from Molly's point of view. She was your date at that Ball, and she said to Molly that she was going to get her hooks into you. Right?"

I smiled at the memory, "Yes."

"And then you're at the Theatre with her. Right?"

"Yes. But how did Molly know about that?"

"Susan found out from somewhere. Someone must have told her, I don't know who. And then you're having dinner with her in London this week. Right?"

"Yes. But only because I was at a loose end that night."

"And now you've just been away for a romantic weekend in Devon with her. Right?"

"No, wrong. But I can see how Molly might have thought that. I gave her a lift down to Exeter for a day's work at Franks, on Friday. We met up in the evening for an early supper, whilst she briefed me on what she'd discovered. And I put her on the eight thirty train back to Bath where she lives. Myself and Myra are not an item. But, even if we were, so what? Can't I have girlfriends? I am single man, or have you forgotten that?"

"I know you are." He paused, apparently deep in thought, "My guess is that Molly will ask you to do something that is probably the hardest thing you'll ever have to do in your life. And she fears that you are currently building a new life with Myra right here in Bristol, and that she has no right to ask anything of you."




Back to Bristol Ch. 09



My mind immediately went to the thought that she was going to ask me to move away and give up my sons. "And would you like to tell me what that hard thing is? Because I have a funny feeling that I can guess, and the answer is No. A very big, very determined No. Tell her not to waste her time."

"No. You have to hear it from Molly. I'm only guessing, but I think I know my own daughter."

"Well, I choose not to hear it, thank you. Not now, not ever."

There was an awkward pause, both of us sipping our sherries quite fast. It was Ralph that spoke first, "Tell me, this has worried me since we went to see the rugby. What happened on the night that Molly came down to see you after you'd separated but before you were divorced? I know she did."

I remembered that night as if it was yesterday, but there was no way I was talking about that with Ralph, not now. "It was all a very long time ago, Ralph. Let it drop."

He looked at me, and then said, "Well, I'll tell you what I saw. I saw you turn your back on your wife and children without any attempt to reconcile. I know it must have been hard, but you should have done better than that." 

He paused and I just looked at him, questioningly. 

He went on, "I brought Molly down that night, I was sitting in my car waiting for her, I was watching. To my mind she'd been seeing too much of Peter before she'd run out of options with you. I insisted that I was going to interfere just that once, much against Susan's better judgement I might add. I took her down to talk to you. We sat in the car for ages, until you drove passed and parked further up the street. Molly got out and met you at the gate. She talked to you, she said her piece, and it must have taken her three or four minutes. I couldn't see her face, she had her back to me, but I could see you listening. And then you said just something quite short and went in. She told me that you all you did was to wish her well with Peter. Is that true?"

OK, that travesty of the truth got to me, and I did reply: "Well, first, you've got to remember that only two days before, I'd received a letter from Molly saying that Peter had asked her to marry him, and she was inclined to accept. It would get us out of the money argument the lawyers were having. How do you think I felt about that, Ralph? My side of the bed is hardly cold. I prayed every day for some way back, but she was off with her one true love. I knew she had fallen for Peter, was obsessed by him, but so soon?"

I paused to look at him, he looked horrified.

I continued, "And Yes, she did meet me at the door to my flat. She stood there, I didn't know what to say. What could I say? She Um'd a bit, then she put her weight on the other leg and Ah'd a bit. Then she put her hands in her pockets and just looked at me. Then she put her head on one side and Er'd a bit. Then she took her hands out of her pockets and just looked at me. You tell me it was four minutes. It was half a life time. The woman who I loved so much couldn't even use one comprehendible English word to me. She'd just told me by letter that she was going to marry Peter. What the Hell was I meant to do, Ralph? What was I meant to say? Until that evening I'd clung to the hope that somehow, someway, there would have been a way back for us, that Peter was just a passing fancy. He wasn't. And No, there was no way back. I congratulated her on her engagement and I went in."

I could hardly speak, my voice was thick with emotion, I looked at him, he just watched me, "I went in, but even then I didn't shut the door on her. All she had to do was give it a push, if only she would. But she didn't. If she had, she would have found me sitting on the stairs, crying my heart out. I'd just lost everything, every damn thing. My marriage was over, there was no going back, not even in my dreams. You tell me Ralph, what was I meant to do? Why did she come? Why did she want to hurt me so much? All I ever did was love her."

My eyes were streaming tears, just like they had on that night. Ralph was still just watching me, but he looked so shocked, and there were tears rolling down his cheeks as well. Then all he said, slowly and very precisely, was "The stupid.....dumb....cunt." 

His jaw seemed to set, his face flushed, and I don't think he was with me at that moment. He was somewhere else, thinking something else. Suddenly he seemed to notice my presence, "Drink your sherry and go." And he walked out.

I did sit there, drinking my sherry and composing myself. When I walked up the garden path I could see Ralph. He was in the kitchen, standing on one side of the kitchen table, Susan sat on the other side, looking very cowed. I couldn't hear a sound, but from the body language, Ralph was shouting his head off at her. You could tell he was in a temper that I never knew he had. As I walked up the path, I must have caught his eye, because he obviously went silent as I passed. But he was ramrod straight, and very angry indeed.

I drove home and poured myself one very large whisky. As I drank it I promised myself that tonight was the last time I'd ever try having a conversation about Molly or my marriage or Peter ever again with any of the Tremaine or Davies families. I was through with it all. The only contact would be with the boys, and Molly when it was necessary to talk about the boys. 

I sat down and sent one of my irregular but fairly frequent emails to Mum. Thinking of her seemed warm and safe.

When I got to my office on Monday morning, Carole had beaten me in. She had Annette Morgan, the Deputy Head of Production, sitting on one of her sofas, waiting. I said Good Morning, and Carole followed me in to my office.

"I'll get you a coffee in a minute. I made space in your diary for you to see Annette. I guessed you'd want to see her as soon as you got in. She's being filling in for Dennis Murrell since last Tuesday, remember? And she hasn't seen you."

"You're right. Send her in, and you'd better make it coffee for two. Thanks Carole."

Annette Morgan is about fifty-ish, tall, angular and plain. But rumour has it she is really liked and respected on the shop floor. So, I greeted her warmly, and thanked her for stepping into the breach on Dennis's sudden departure. Then I told her that I wasn't going to promote her immediately, but that I was going to take the opportunity to look at the whole structure of production, and its relationship to the Exeter outfit. Of course she would be invited to have her input to that planning. 

She surprised me as to how confident and understanding she was about the situation. Dennis was hardly mentioned, but there was the occasional aside on how she might now be able to restructure some things. When I mentioned Exeter, she immediately smiled. "You know, I have an awful lot of time for Stephen Hobbs. If your reorganisation meant that I had to report to him, well I really wouldn't mind."

"Thank you, Annette. It's nice to know that we have that sort of flexibility without problems. I'm very grateful."

After she'd left, Carole came back in.

"OK?" she asked.

"Very good indeed. Try sorting out an evening, I should take her and her husband or boyfriend out to dinner."

"Her husband's name is Samantha."

"Oh!"

"They've been together for years, but she's terribly discreet about it. A dyke on an engineering shop floor? Of course everyone knows, but it's never mentioned. They might not want to go out to dinner with you."

"Ok. Maybe I should give the diner idea a miss then. At least until I've built a better relationship with her." 

After that we talked through my trip to London, and Head Office's reaction to Dennis's departure. Carole reported that most people were not surprised, and plenty were pleased to see him go. Apparently Production Department seemed very happy, now that Annette was properly in charge.

"By the way," Carole looked pleased with herself, "A television producer phoned and wanted to know if you'd be a regular on a new business programme their launching. It's a weekly programme, but you'd do it about once a month, on a panel discussing business ideas. A mix of politics and business as it affects the area."

I smiled, and my ego was pleased, as Carole knew, "They'll have to have a word with my agent."

"They did. And I said you'd do it, but that I'd have to check it with you."

I was still smiling, "Good. If I'm paid for it, you can have ten percent." And she laughed.

Then she looked at me, "And my soap opera?"

"Not a lot to report really. Molly went on playing her silly games, and I had a pretty emotional exchange with her father when I told him to bugger off. He didn't seem to mind, he just didn't want to do it." I shrugged.

"There's more to this than meets the eye." She said wisely, but meaninglessly.

"Yes. I think Molly wants me to change my job, get out of Bristol and leave my boys behind, but leaving her to happily restore her marriage with Peter. Well, she's got a surprise coming. I ain't going to do it. And if she tries moving away with my boys then I'll fight it through every court in the land if I have to. If it's a choice between breaking up her marriage or me having to say good-bye to my sons, then she'd better find herself a good divorce lawyer."

"Do you really think she wants to do that?"

"Yes. I really think she wants to do that. Everything seems to point that way. There is no other explanation for her attitude. And even Ralph, her father, says she wants to ask me to do something that will be the hardest decision I'll ever have to make. What else could it be? Well, they've got a surprise coming, it's not on."

"What sort of mother would want to separate two boys from their father? That's a horrid thought."

Monday went quite peacefully after that. As did Tuesday, well until about ten o'clock that evening, when my phone rang.

"Hello, Chris Bennett speaking."

"Chris, it's Mum."

"Mum! How lovely to hear you. There's nothing wrong is there?"

"No. It was just that I had your email and one from Jamie and Ben. Theirs says that Molly and Peter are finished. And I got worried about what will happen, what you will do, that's all."

"Well, I've already told Ralph that I won't see them homeless, so don't you worry."

"How about poor Molly?"

"Well, I guess she has to go where the boys go. How's Len?" I asked, trying to change subject.

"Oh, he's fine. Do you mean that you'd take her back?"

"No, I don't mean that. Molly left me for Peter. I'm history. You know that, I know that. There's no going back. You can't go back in time, and I wouldn't want to."

"But somehow, it would be a chance to put your family back together again."

"My family was torn asunder. You can't put it back together again."

"But if you could?"

"It'd be a bloody miracle, but you can't. And you certainly can't if no one suggests it, and I'm certainly not going to suggest it. Actually, I worry that Molly is more likely to want to separate me from the boys, in a last desperate attempt to save her current marriage."

"She would never do that. Molly is just not that sort of girl. She makes mistakes, we all do, but she'd never do that. You needn't worry about that, Chris. I'd stake my life on it."

"Well, that's good to hear. Look, don't worry, Mum. I promise you the boys will be alright. It can't be good for them at the moment, in the middle of a break-up, but Ralph and Susan are being superb. And I see them every weekend. They'll be OK. I'll see to it. And if you're worried, phone Susan or Ralph, they're closer to it than I am."

After that we talked a little bit about our lives, she asked if I had any travel plans. I assumed she meant: was I likely to visit her in Australia. I told her I was going to be in Bristol for the foreseeable future. Then she said she had to get Len's breakfast, so she better go. I looked at my watch, I guessed that it was seven o'clock on Wednesday morning in Melbourne.

My Wednesday morning was interrupted by a phone call from my brother, Brian. 

"Good Heavens! Last night it was Mum on the phone. Now I hear from you. Is it family week or something?"

"I spoke to Mum last night as well. I guess she's feeling a bit homesick or something. Anyway, talking to her reminded me that I've got a little brother who lives in Bristol at the moment. And he can do me a favour."

"Anything. Anything at all, Brian. You know that. Only don't make it involve money, or anything that means I have to put myself out one inch." I said with warmth in my voice.

"You can offer me a bed for the night. I'm coming down to University of Bath tomorrow, and rather than doing it in the day, which is just too long a trip, Mum reminded me that you are back in Bristol these days."

"The best I can do is offer you a sofa. It's quite a decent size sofa, but you'll have to bring your own sleeping bag. But I'd love to see you. What brings you to Bath?"

"There's a guy at the University there who's an expert on Wordsworth, when he and Dorothy were living near Bristol, out in Somerset. And I want to see him to put some ideas passed him that might go in a book I'm thinking of writing."

Brian was a Lecturer on the English Poets, he was the literary member of the family. Some of my earliest memories are of him with his head buried in a book.

"So, what's your timing for tomorrow?"

"Well, if I come down by train, I reckon I'll get to Bath just before lunch. Give me the afternoon with the guy. How about after work?"

"Sounds good. Get him to give you a lift back to Bath Spa station, and I'll pick you up in Bristol, at Temple Meads, at six thirty say?"

"Times about right. But I'd rather you were in a pub. Then I won't feel so guilty if I'm a bit late."

"OK. How about .... I don't know....the Llandoger Trow? Lot's of nice literary connections that should please you, and there's plenty of restaurants around there to eat in."

"Daniel Defoe's meeting with Alexander Selkirk before he wrote Gulliver's Travels. See? I know my literary history as well as poetry. Sounds good."

"Well there aren't many literary pubs in Bristol."

"There's the Hole in the Wall in Queen's Square. That's meant to be the basis for The Spyglass in Robert Louis Stephenson's Treasure Island."

"Show off!" I said, laughing, "I'll see you tomorrow at about six thirty in the Llandoger Trow in King Street. Now I've got work to do. I'm not an academic who only has the occasional lecture to give."

I put the phone down. Well that was a nice surprise. I haven't seen Brian for nearly a year. He, Morag and their children had stayed with me and Helene in Apeldoorn for a few days last summer. I shall look forward to an evening with my big brother.

Later that evening I was back in my flat when the door bell buzzed, it was Ralph. Instantly, I felt suspicious and reluctant to let him in, but thought I had to, I couldn't think of an excuse. He looked tired and sad, but there was also an urgency about him.

"So what do you want, Ralph?"

He looked defeated at my tone, "I've just come from Molly. I left her in tears." 

I felt drained. So, Molly was in tears? I thought it was beyond me to care any more, but of course I did. "What's happened?"

"Oh, I was the one who drove her to tears this time. I tore into her about that night she met you, before you were divorced. I owe you such a huge apology, Chris. I didn't know the truth of it at the time, I'm not sure I know it all now, but I understand more. But, it was totally wrong of her to leave you like that. I can understand what you went through."

I nodded, "I think that night rates as the worse night of my life. I'm sorry I got so emotional on Sunday, but of all my memories, that's the one that still gets to me."

"Don't worry about it. Sometimes the past catches up with us." 

We stared at each other. Like before, Ralph's honesty got to me. I wanted to ask him what the argument between him and Susan was about, but I had to respect the privacy of a man and his wife. I smiled, "Do you want a coffee, or a drink?" 

"I wouldn't say no to a whisky. I'm the one feeling a bit emotional tonight. I don't normally drive my grown up daughter to tears, and I didn't enjoy it."

As I poured a couple of whiskies, I had my back to him as I replied, "You shouldn't have done it. It doesn't make any difference. It was a long time ago. And even if she had been a bit kinder on that night, it wouldn't have made any real difference."

When I turned to face him, he was staring at me, I wasn't sure what he was thinking, but when I handed him his whisky he returned to a familiar track, "Please, Chris, I beg you, talk to her. I'll take you there right now if you like, but please..... She won't come and see you. I don't know, she's either scared or ashamed, I don't know which. You're the only one who can help her. Please."

"How many times do I have to say it, Ralph? No."

"Why not?"

I sipped my whisky, "For several reasons. First, as I told you, when myself and Molly had our problem, maybe we could of got over it, maybe not. But I wasn't given a chance, that very week she was back with him, lunching with him and you can imagine what else they were probably getting up to. I didn't stand a chance. Now she's got problems with Peter and the best thing I can do for your daughter is to stay away."

"I don't think they are going to get over it, not this time."

"Well, I loved your daughter; I know her; she will fight tooth and nail for the man she loves. She's the sort of person that is committed two hundred percent to a relationship, nothing can get in the way. I think she is totally impervious to all the little problems that go on in the lives of us ordinary mortals. That's why I know just how strongly she feels about Peter. He managed to break through and got to her. And she will do whatever is necessary to keep things together."

I paused and took a large sip of whisky. I didn't look at Ralph, but I knew he was watching me, "If Peter thinks that having me around is a problem, and let's be honest, their problems only started when I turned up again, then I'm pretty sure Molly will ask me to move on." I looked up at Ralph, to make sure he was looking into my eyes, "I lost my sons for a couple of years; I guess I lost myself for that long as well. But I'm back now, and I'll be damned before I move on and out of their lives. I'm not going to see Molly. I'm not going to be asked to leave my sons behind. I won't do it, I can't do it."

Ralph swirled the last remain drops of whisky in his glass, he shook his head, "You're wrong, Chris. Actually, no, in some ways you're so right you don't even know it. But I promise you, I'm sure, I'm absolutely certain, that Molly would never ask you to part with your boys." He looked at me for a long pause, "But you're not going to believe me, are you? I'm wasting my time. You and Molly were well matched, you're both as stubborn as each other." 

"I don't understand what you're talking about, but I'm glad you realise you are wasting your time."

He smiled, "Do you want to see your boys this weekend? It's a long one remember, you've got three days to choose from"

"Of course I want to see them, but I'm fairly easy as to when."

"Well is there any chance you can make it Monday? I think I might be having visitors, old friends from oversees, and Monday might be better."

"I'm OK with that. But, I'll collect them from Molly's if you prefer. I suspect that Susan can get through a weekend without seeing me."

"Susan's away at the moment. She's gone down to stay with her sister Brenda in Weymouth. They run a guest house, if you remember, and Susan is helping them out."

"Oh! Well Monday would be quite good. If I collect them at about noon, I can take them down to the mall. I want Jamie to do a bit of window shopping, just to see if he'll give me a clue about his birthday present. I'll give them lunch somewhere, and then there's a film that they want to see. Afterwards, I'll take them for a burger or something and bring them back at about six or seven say. How's that?"




Back to Bristol Ch. 09



"It sounds fine to me. See you Monday, then." He knocked back the final drops of whisky, and I showed him out.

After he'd gone I topped up my whisky and sipped it gently. I felt tired, very tired. Maybe I was fighting impossible odds. If Molly was determined to save her marriage, then I guess I'll have to move on. She can make it so awkward for me to stay here, to continue the easy access I've had with my sons for these last few months. In the end, the Mother always wins.

And on that sad note I went to bed. But I woke up far more optimistic in the morning. Wednesday promised to be a good day at work, and the weather was warm and sunny to support it. Just before lunch I saw Myra, or more accurately, she saw me. 

She came up behind me in a corridor, "I've got a bone to pick with you." She smiled.

"A good bone or a bad bone?" I asked.

"Possibly a very good bone."

"Well, how about you pick it with a drink after work. I need some company at about six to six thirty."

"Sounds good, but why? What am I letting myself in for?"

"Nothing terrible. I'm meeting my big brother, Brian, at the Llandoger Trow at six thirty. Knowing him he'll be late, and it would be nice to be having a drink with a very pretty girl while I wait."

"Flattery will get you everywhere. Will he have dastardly black secrets to tell me about the true Chris Bennett?"

"I'm sure a clever girl like you can get him onto enough embarrassing anecdotes if you try. We can go in separate cars, see you there at about quarter past six?"

And so I was now even more looking forward to seeing Brian. I'm sure he'll note that I'm having a drink with a very sexy girl when he arrives.

I had one of my junior staff lunches that day. I thoroughly enjoyed it, they were a bright, talkative bunch. But then one of them asked me directly, "If you got rid of Dennis Murrell because he accused you of trying to steal Peter Davies's wife, then why don't you actually get rid of Peter Davies who obviously must have made the accusation in the first place?"

Before I could answer, the representative from Marston Abbey interjected, "You might as well. He just works in his room all day. He doesn't...." he paused to find the right word, ".....contribute."

I answered, "Because, to the best of my knowledge, he doesn't sit in the dining room spouting about how he doesn't like ITI corporate policy. As Dennis disagreed with our owner's style he chose to resign. And that's all I'm saying on the matter, except for this, if any of us has a real personal problem, like a marriage in trouble, then I hope all of us would treat that person with a degree of tolerance. It can't go on for ever, we have a business to run, but giving a colleague a bit of space, and not gossiping about them seems only decent. And, for the record, I am not trying to steal Peter Davies's wife."

After that someone had the decency to change subject. I hoped I'd help stop the gossip. But I also noted that I needed a word with Piers McBaine about how well Peter Davies was working at the moment.

Later, I got to the pub about two minutes before Myra. I hadn't even ordered a drink, I was still looking round trying to see if she was there when she came through the door.

"I saw you walking up the road in front of me." She greeted me.

"First to the bar and all that." I countered, "What would you like?"

"A G&T please."

When we'd got our drinks and found a table, I had to ask, "So, what's this bone then?"

"Well, it's a complaint really. Do you remember saying that I would meet Mr Right on the London train the other week? Well, he wasn't there. I looked." 

I smiled, "Did you look in the last carriage? I had it stocked up with handsome millionaires especially for you. Don't tell me you didn't look in there."

"No. But anyway, you are forgiven, because maybe he was sitting opposite me on the Exeter to Bath train last Friday." She smiled, and was obviously excited.

"Do tell." 

"Well, there was just this very attractive man sitting opposite me. We got talking, it turned out that he is an archaeologist from Exeter Uni, he was just going up to London to see his folks for the weekend. His name is Will Rowland, Dr Will Rowland actually, and he gave me his number when I got off at Bath."

"And?"

"And I phoned him on Monday, and we've got a date on Friday evening."

I smiled, "Great."

"It'll probably come to nothing. But it was so exciting just to meet someone."

"An archaeologist is a good choice. Wasn't it Agatha Christie who's husband was one, and she used to say that the older she got the more interesting she appeared to her husband?"

"I'm not marrying him yet."

After that she asked after my love life, but I assured her it was non-existent. And we generally chatted on until suddenly I was aware that Brian was standing at the table.

"Wiss, it's so good to see you." He said as we hugged. 

I introduced him to Myra, and explained that Wiss was as close as a young boy could get to the name of his new baby brother. Unfortunately, it stuck.

Having got him a beer, we had a fairly easy conversation. Myra knew quite a bit about William Wordsworth, and his time in Somerset with his friend, Samuel Taylor Coleridge, and the birth of the Romantic Movement. A subject that left me a little dry. 

Soon we were through our first drinks and Myra said she was leaving. I did invite her to join us for a meal, but she was adamant, probably wisely, as mine and Brian's conversation was probably going to be a lot about Mum and Len and our children and our memories.

As she walked away, Brian watched her rear retreating. He winked at me, "Nice."

"Very nice." I replied, smiling.

"You haven't? You have... you lucky bastard."

"Never you mind. But she is a lovely girl, and a good colleague." I added with emphasis.

We decided that rather than stay in the King Street area for something more to eat and drink, we'd go up to my place and dump Brian's things, whilst I was still sober to drive. Then we'd go out for a meal and alcohol.

We ate in a pleasant bar café, but afterwards we retired to a good old pub, somewhere where men can do serious drinking. We talked about Mum and Len and I asked after Morag.

We were on about our third pint when he asked, "So what happened to Helene then? Come to that, what happened to that Myra girl, if you let her slip through your fingers?"

I laughed, "Myra was just one of those ships that pass in the night. We're good friends and colleagues, but nothing more. We kidded ourselves that we might be for a moment, but we aren't."

"How about Helene? She was nice. In fact, her legs were wonderful, all the way up to her bum."

"She was, and she's a lovely girl, but No. Not for me. It got close though, bloody close. But I'm no good at the commitment bit. You and Morag manage it, but it's not for me."

He looked at me for a long pause, "Don't tell me you're still hung up on that bitch Molly. She was a slut. She screwed around on you, and when you found out she went on doing it. Christ Almighty, Wiss! You're not still hung up on her, are you?"

"No, I'm not. But she's not a bitch or a slut. And she is your nephews' mother, and she's a very good one."

"Do you see her?"

"Yes. Of course I do, she's my sons' mother. And I would like to build a decent friendship with her, but that's nigh on impossible."

"Why?"

"Because..... because there are too many memories, too much hurt, too much anger... I don't know."

"It's been what? Four years, going on five. You should be over her by now. Was it her that stopped you committing to Helene? Does she still have that hold over you? Are you still yearning for that cheating bitch?"

"I wish you wouldn't call her that. She fell in love with another guy. I'm sure she didn't mean to. I know she wouldn't have meant it to happen. But it did." I looked at him, I didn't like attacks on Molly. "It's the experience of her rather than anything else. I knew, or thought I knew, that I loved Molly. There was a certainty in my life with her. But I don't think I know what love is anymore. That's what Molly's left me with, insecurity and uncertainty." I sank the rest of my pint, "Go and get us another one. Drinking's better than talking about women."

When Brian returned, he asked, "Seriously, do you feel insecure? You used to be the most confident man I knew. Arrogant bastard would be a good summary." He said provocatively.

I smiled, "Good job you're my brother. No, I don't feel insecure. It's just that I was awfully fond of Helene, but I knew I didn't feel a quarter of what I had felt for Molly." I paused and took a long draught of beer, "Molly was my reason for living; Helene was a very beautiful girlfriend who I shared my life with. I knew I didn't feel as much for Helene, and if what I felt for Molly wasn't good enough, then what chance did I have with Helene?"

"It sounds to me that you're still hung up on her. She cheated on you, Wiss. She decided to go to bed with another man when married to you. That's naughty. She shouldn't have done it. You do understand the theory of marriage, don't you? You're entitled to hate her bloody guts."

"I don't hate her guts. I like her, I have a special bond with her. She's the mother of my children, and we had wonderful years together. But she loves and is married to someone else. Now lay off, please Brian. I've had a bellyful of Molly lately."

"You sounded tired when you said that?"

"When it comes to Molly, I am. You saw me in Apeldoorn last summer. I was happy. OK, I didn't love Helene as much as she'd have liked. But I was happy. I come back here, and all sorts of old feelings, old yearnings, come to the surface. And it's pointless, and I wish they wouldn't." I looked at him, "I'm sure Mum told you, Molly's got problems in her new marriage, and I just wish she'd sort them out and we can all get back to getting on with our lives."

We paused and drank our beers in silence. But then Brian smiled, "Why did you leave him with any balls anyway? Then he wouldn't have been worth marrying"

I smiled, "Don't think I didn't dream about it. He works at Franks you know. I'm his boss. I bet that gives him more sleepless nights than it gives me."

Brian smiled, took a drink of his beer, and said, "I guess you can't really touch an employee, not these days. Pity."

"Oh, I worked for a while subtly undermining him. But I don't bother to do that now. I don't really care about him. Not anymore."

"But you care about Molly." He said it as a statement, but I took it as a question.

"Yes. I suppose I do. But there's no future in that. I'm making a big effort to care about me, and not care about her. It's hard going, but I'll get there. Now, let's talk about something really important. Like football, for instance. Franks have a box at Bristol City, you know."

I knew that would get Brian. He's been a loyal Bristol City fan all his life, even when living in Newcastle, and that's a brave thing to be up there. "You've worked there since February, and you haven't told me about that. Now what was I saying about removing balls? That was a traitorous omission, little brother........."

We went on drinking until closing time, when we went back to my flat. I was up at the usual time, and having dropped Brian off at the station, into the office feeling slightly hung over, but otherwise OK.

Carole handed me a sheaf of estate agent details of apartments to rent. A quick flick through and I realised there was quite a range. "I'll read them tonight, and then tomorrow we can see if I can do some viewing of any interesting ones on Saturday or Sunday."

Otherwise, Thursday and Friday passed without incident. On Saturday and Sunday, I did go viewing flats, and found one I liked in Clifton, near the Suspension Bridge, with views across the Avon Gorge. I also walked the shops a bit, looking for ideas for a birthday present for Jamie. I remembered that the boys' birthdays and Christmas were one of the many times I missed the partnership of marriage, when I could talk about ideas with a partner. Helene was great at that, but then she had a couple of nephews and nieces that were conveniently a couple of years older than Jamie and Ben, so they acted as the forerunners for my two. 

Bank Holiday Monday started OK, but then Ralph phoned me, "Yes, Ralph?"

"Chris, it's a bit hectic here at the moment. My overseas visitors have arrived. Is there any chance that you could put back coming round for the boys until after lunch, say? We'll feed them here, if that's OK."

"Sure, that's not a problem. I'm in a mellow mood, I'll collect them at two thirty. How's that?"

"We'll be ready for you."



Back to Bristol Ch. 10



I pulled up outside Susan and Ralph's house at almost exactly two thirty, and went and knocked on the front door. The door opened, and there stood Mum, with Len behind her, smiling from ear to ear, and hovering in the background I could see Ralph.

"Mum!" I hugged her, "What are you doing here? Where did you come from?"

Everyone was smiling and laughing, "I got a bit homesick to see you and Brian and the children. And Len said: Well why don't we just get on a plane and go and see them? So we did, and here we are."

After some more explanatory chit chat, Ralph spoke up, "Come on, why don't you three go into the sitting room and catch up? I'll make you a cup of tea and then leave you to chat."

And that's what we did. Within five minutes, Ralph delivered a tray of tea, and said he was going to leave us in peace and he'd be out in the garden if we wanted him. 

"Where are the boys?" I asked before he left.

Ralph smiled, "Knowing this reunion was going to happen, I sent them over the road to play with Emma Tanner's grandchild. Don't worry, they all know each other well, and will be happy over there for a while."

He smiled at everybody and left, shutting the door behind him with "I'll leave you to chat."

Mum, myself and Len did just that. I could see Ralph through the window, pottering around the garden with his secateurs and wheelbarrow. I asked where they were staying, and apparently Ralph had invited them to stay there for a few days.

After half an hour, and we'd drunk the tea, Mum said, "It's no good, I've got to see Jamie and Ben."

I went to stand up, thinking we'd go and find them. Mum looked at me, "No. You sit and talk to Len. Let me just go and find them and have a few minutes. Ralph will tell me where they are." And she left, pulling the door almost closed behind her.

There was a bit of an awkward silence after she'd gone. Eventually, I looked at Len and asked the very mundane, "Who did you fly with?"

"British Airways. We took off at about half past three yesterday afternoon, local time that is. We had to change at Singapore, but after that it was a straight flight to Heathrow. Ralph must have got up at about before three o'clock in the morning, because he met us at Heathrow at five this morning. That was very good of him."

"So that's why you put me off this morning."

"Yes. We all needed a couple of hours shut-eye."

There was a pause, until Len asked, "What happened to Helene? I rather fancied her, especially when we all went to the beach and she almost wore a bikini."

"Why is everyone so surprised that I hooked a beautiful woman? Or maybe they're surprised that I let her go. Brian was quite forthright on Thursday about that."

Len looked up, "Fraternal problems?"

"No. We wouldn't dare, Mum just doesn't allow them." I paused as we silently acknowledged that Mum was a strong woman. "It was just that he was having a good go at me about Molly. Why was she so special to me? Why didn't I hate her? Just unwanted brotherly advice."

"She's breaking up with that Peter guy, I hear. How do you feel about that, is there anything left that you could build on?"

I looked at him, "Mum asked me the same question. I know that Molly was the great love of my life, and I guess she still owns part of me. But I came second to Peter, remember?"

"I would have thought that you would hate her? You've got every reason to."

"No." I sighed, "I don't think it's in me to hate Molly. I hate what she did, but I couldn't hate her."

Just then the door swung wide open, there stood Molly. Ralph was standing behind her, one arm firmly around her waist. The other hand clamped over her mouth. Mum was standing with her back to me, just to one side, but with her hand pressed firmly against Molly's chest. Tears were silently rolling down her cheeks.

At some unknown signal, both Ralph and Mum let go. Molly staggered forward into the room. Len sneaked out behind her, closing the door.

She just looked at me, and with choking sobs, "Why don't you hate me? ....... You should hate me. ..... I hate me."

Saul of Tarsus had his moment of clarity on the road to Damascus. Mine was that split second. Suddenly I knew the truth. Suddenly all my understanding of the wrongs of five years ago were just that, wrong. 

Saul went blind for a while, he changed his name to Paul and started doing good works. Me? I just panicked!

I dodged round Molly and I was at the door. I pulled the handle, nothing happened. Somewhere, deep inside of me, huge, stomach wrenching sobs surfaced, "You can't do this..... you've no right.......not now.......No.......Its not fair."

I pulled the door handle again, still nothing. They'd locked us in. "Let me out. Ralph? Unlock this door NOW!"

Molly was on my back. She had her arms around my waist, and her face pressed to my shirt. "I love you....... I've always loved you......I've never loved Peter, not for an instance.... God knows, I've tried.....But I love you, Chris. I'm sorry....." She too seemed to be sobbing as she spoke.

Suddenly there was Ralph's voice through the door, "Molly?"

"Leave it. I've needed to tell him for so long. You've got to listen to me Chris. I've done some terrible things, I've made some dreadful mistakes and I'm sorry. But, please listen to me."

For a short eternity we just seemed frozen in time. Me with my hand still on the door handle. Molly clinging to my back.

Eventually, I think we both relaxed a little, we separated and I turned round. She looked at me, her face was tired and drawn, occasional tears were still rolling down her cheeks, but there was a look in her eyes that I haven't seen in years, and maybe never. Love? Hope? Remorse? I don't know what it was.

"Please, Chris. Let me tell you my story. Please. You can walk out after that. But, for my sake, please let me at least tell it. Please."

I didn't say anything; the door was locked; I wasn't going anywhere; so I sat down on the sofa. I wanted to curl up in a foetal position, but I just sat with my hands in my lap, slightly bent over as if I had a stomach ache. Most of my brain was committed to the emotions of the moment, to the pain in my stomach, to Hurt, Fear, Anger and to remembrance of all those emotions as well. But there was one small portion of it that was still logically functioning. I could hear her, I could see her and I could even feel some interest in what she was going to say.

Molly knelt down on the floor in front of me. I looked at her, her face was full of indecision. "I've rehearsed this speech so many times over the years. Now I don't know where to start." 

Her head dropped and she stared at her knees. Then she looked up, "There are two fundamental truths in this story. Whatever you feel, whatever you think, please remember two things. First, I love you. I've always loved you, from the times you came here to this house to collect me for dates, right up until now. I love you and I've never, not for a minute, loved anyone else. It's true that for a short while, a matter of months I guess, I doubted that love. I shouldn't have. And for the last four years, my love has only been in my dreams and fantasies, because you weren't there to share it. But it is just as strong as it ever was, I promise you."

I felt I should respond, maybe tell her how much I've thought of her, but all I could do was to prompt her, "And the other truth?"

She looked at me, maybe disappointed at my lack of response, "You may not like this one. Peter is a good man who does truly love me. He's loving and caring. He's intelligent and has a wonderful sense of humour. He's sexy and good looking, he's a great cook, and he really believes in the good that his research might achieve. At the moment he is going through Hell, I know he is. He doesn't deserve what's happening to him at the moment."

"I have some problem with that." I said, thinking that, although all that she said maybe true, this all started with his immoral actions. He brought this on himself.

She half smiled, "Perhaps you do."

I almost felt that logical bit of my brain grow in strength, grow in its interest. "So what happened?"

Again, she took her time to think out what she was going to say, "Five years ago, you were at Jamesons. And you were working so hard. I knew you were fighting to keep your head above water. And I knew you were fighting for us, the wonderful house, the hard work, it was for all of us, I knew that. I was so proud of you. And there was nothing I could do to help you. Yes, I could keep the boys off your back if they were a bit much, I could get a nice meal when you wanted one, but I couldn't really help you." Tears were streaming down her cheeks again, "I was so frustrated that I couldn't help ease your load. A load you took on for all of us. But I couldn't think of anything, anyway to help."

"But, you did do so much. I thought you knew how much I appreciated all that you did. I tried to tell you."

"I know. But that didn't help. That even with all the pressure, you found time to buy me flowers, to spend time with the boys. In some ways it made me feel more useless."

"I'm sorry you felt that. I did wonder if my stress was spilling over on you."

She shook her head, "No. This was all my stress. I generated this emotion." She paused and gulped back some tears, "Well that's the background. Then, at work I met this very attractive man with a great sense of humour called Peter Davies. I thought he was nice. I didn't fancy him or anything, I had no sexual feelings for him at all. But he was nice. This is weeks, maybe a couple of months before anything happened."

"You never mentioned him."

She looked at me, slightly surprised, "I'm sure I did. There was certainly no reason for me not to. He was a nice guy, a nice friend. I thought you'd like him. If we'd been giving parties at that time I would have invited him, but we weren't, I didn't want to burden you with entertaining. But Peter wasn't a secret. You probably just didn't register the name. At a hospital there are so many people coming and going, I'm sure I mention a new name every week."

"Anyway, go on."

"Well, one Thursday, I had a particularly lousy morning. One patient was obviously not telling me the truth about his diet. Another was killing her child with kindness. I was fed up and browned off. But it was only a half day, all I was going to do was have a lunch in the canteen and go home. And by chance, I bumped into Peter. He was always a cheerful face, and he noticed how fed up I was. When I told him that all I was going to do was have lunch and go home, he suggested that he take me down to King Street and buy me a nice lunch. He said no one was expecting him to be anywhere particular that afternoon, he had plenty of time. I saw it as nothing more than a kind gesture from a friendly colleague. I actually remember thinking that it might even be a good idea, it would cheer me up, so that I would happy and cheerful for you when you came home. How stupid was that?"

She paused, to look at me and see how her story was going, but I just waited for her to continue.

"Anyway, we took his car down to town, and he chose a little Italian place in King Street."

"Don't tell me, its painted lime green?"

"It is now. It wasn't then, but I think it's the same place. Peter always insists on taking me back there for our anniversary. The place of my downfall, and I'm meant to think of it as 'our place'. I hate it, not for what it is, but for what it symbolises."

Again she paused, again I waited.

"Anyway, we had a nice lunch. Peter was great company. But there was nothing overtly sexual, I promise you. You could have sat in the corner and watched. There was nothing going on. Just two friends, who happened to be different genders, having lunch. But when it got time to leave, Peter asked if I was going to be OK to drive when we got back to the Hospital. And I said, I wasn't sure. I think I needed another cup of coffee and a bit of time to recover."

"How much had you had to drink?"

"Not that much, but probably enough to put me over the limit. I had a G&T when we sat down. Then we had wine with the meal, maybe I had slightly more than my fair share, as Peter had a bottle of water as well, he was driving after all. Then at the end, Peter asked if I'd ever tried grappa, as he never had. Well I hadn't either, so he ordered two glasses of grappa with the coffee. He took one sip of his and said he didn't like it. I didn't mind it, I wasn't a great fan, but it was OK. I ended up drinking both his and mine. So, a bit too much, but not a huge amount."

"So what happened?"

"Peter suggested that instead of having another cup of coffee there, that we go to his place. He'd bought this flat overlooking the old docks, and he was so proud of it. He'd been talking about it for weeks. So, he suggested that we go back there so that he could show it off, we'd have a cup of coffee there, and then he'd run me up to the Hospital to collect my car." She paused to collect her thoughts again, "I often wonder at what point I made the mistake. I guess accepting that invite may have been the start of it, but I promise you, Chris, honest to God, I didn't have any ulterior motive. And I don't think Peter had either."

"So when did that change?"

"Well, we got to his flat, and it really was quite impressive. It was all wood floors, and minimal furniture, quite a bachelor pad. Anyway, I was standing looking out of the window at the view of the old docks when I hear this terrific scream from the kitchen. I rushed to find out what had happened, and Peter is tearing his clothes off. He'd spilt boiling water right down his front. He couldn't get his shirt and trousers off quickly enough. It was an accident with his kettle. Once he'd wiped himself down, and said it he was OK, I went back to looking at the view. But, I'll admit, I had rather enjoyed the view of this sexy semi-naked man in the kitchen. That was the first time I was aware of sex that afternoon. And he was good looking, and he had a body that was so different to yours. Not that you aren't good looking, but he doesn't have any hair on his chest, and his skin colour was a darker tan than yours, that's what I mean by different.

"No offence taken."

"Anyway, I was looking out of the window again, and Peter came up right behind me, in just his Calvin Kleins. I could smell his cologne. I could feel his body heat through my blouse. And he stood right behind me, pointing out the sights. You could see the SS Great Britain in its dry dock and even that little recreation of the old ship that sailed the Atlantic was there, moored to the side."

"The Matthew? John Cabot's boat that he sailed to the America's in, at the end of the fifteenth century - I think."

"That's the one. It's so tiny. And to think men set sail right around the world in boats like that in those days."

She paused, but I wasn't going to let this slip into a discussion on maritime history, so I just waited.

"Sorry, where was I? Yes, the moment of my downfall. There was this tremendous sexual tension in the air. He leant forward and just kissed me, very lightly, on the side of my neck. It was as if there was a bubble around us. There was only the two of us in the whole world. Where were you? Where were the boys? Where was everything that was important to me? It should have been there to protect me. It should have been right at the front of my mind. Our love should have stopped me, why didn't it?"

She broke down in tears. I wondered if I should comfort her, but I knew my emotions were pretty unstable and I didn't trust them That stopped me. But by now I was truly listening, comprehending and reacting.

Eventually, she wiped her eyes. "I half turned and he kissed me fully on the lips. And suddenly, all I could think about was wanting him. I wanted him so badly, I wanted him in me, right there, right then. I'm sorry, Chris, but just for that moment I forgot you. I'm not going to tell you anything but the truth."

I think I was about to explode, and she saw it, but it didn't stop her. "We sort of shuffled into the bedroom, I guess he was leading me, because I didn't know the way. We were tearing at our clothes. Or I was, he only had to take off his boxers. I didn't have time to really undress, I slipped off my pants from under my skirt, I unbuttoned my blouse, but I only pulled......no I think he pulled my bra up above my breasts. And we did it. There was no foreplay, it was missionary position and then we rolled over and I rode him. We came at about the same time. And then the bubble burst. And then you were there in the room, I felt I could see you watching me. I remember sitting astride him, looking down at him, and I was horrified. I couldn't get off him fast enough."

"What did he say?"

"Nothing. I don't think either of us said anything from the first little peck on the neck until the end. Then I was babbling about it being a mistake, and how I had to go. I found my shoes and pants, and I got out of there. I was still doing up the last buttons on my blouse when I got out onto the street. I found a taxi, and I went back for my car at the Hospital."

"And that was it?"

"Yes. But that's bad enough. I drove home, I'm not sure how, I probably wasn't emotionally fit to drive, let alone how much I'd drunk. But I did. And I had a very long, very hot shower. I was so ashamed of myself. I'd betrayed everything in my life. Everything that I believed in, everything that was good. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

Again she collapsed in tears. I just watched. Now that I knew this full story, it didn't seem so bad. But how would I have judged it then? Then I was an innocent. I hadn't fucked my way around the brothels of the world. I hadn't had so many one night stands that I've lost count. 

Molly looked up, "By the time I'd finished in the shower, I suddenly realised that it was time to collect the boys off Susan. I should have collected them a lot earlier, and I phoned and apologised, and went and collected them." She laughed, "And that was the start of you finding out. Jamie had got some plastic cartoon character out of the cereal packet that morning. I can't remember which one, but it was bright yellow, I do remember that. And Ben had got hold of it when they were in the back of the car, and they were squabbling. Their Mother had just betrayed them, betrayed you, and everything we believed in, and they were squabbling about some damned bit of bright yellow plastic. I stopped the car in the middle of the road and turned round and screamed at them. That was the start of me letting my anger at myself out on them. I shouldn't have done it, it adds to my shame. But that evening, I tried to act normally, and just hoped it would all go away. That time would let me get over it."

"But I noticed."

"Yes, you must have picked up on something. Suddenly, with all the pressure on you, you still found time to be an even better Dad. You got in to read them their bedtime stories. You were the perfect father and husband, and I was the evil, traitorous wife. Why did you have to be so bloody good that week of all weeks? Don't answer that, I know why. But it made it all the worse for me. Well you know what happened, you caught on that something was wrong, perhaps you knew or guessed it all, I don't know. But, eventually I confessed on that Sunday evening."

"You had been to work that week, and you did see him again?"

"Yes. Twice. I told him it was all a mistake, a dreadful mistake. And I didn't want to talk to him or see him again. Two days later, he delivered a huge bunch of flowers to my desk to apologise. I accepted his apology, but told him we couldn't be friends."

"I can understand why you didn't tell me when it happened, but when I found out, why didn't you just tell me all this then? Why did you let me believe that he was more than that to you? And above all else, why couldn't you tell me that you simply loved me? That was the bit that really hurt the most." 




Back to Bristol Ch. 10



"Because I didn't understand my own feelings. I thought I loved you so much. I now realise that I did love you, that I do love you so much. But back then, all I could think about was that if I loved you so much, then how did I let this happen? What sort of person was I that professed my love, but had sex with another man? I knew that at that moment with Peter, I wanted him to fuck me. I wasn't drugged or seduced, I wanted it. What sort of wife and mother does that make me? That's why I couldn't say I loved you, I really was doubting all I'd ever felt."

"Why did you let me leave on the Monday? With the right words, I would have stayed. Instead you just went on about what a great guy Peter was and how you only thought you had loved me. I really thought you had fallen for him."

"I think I knew at the time that I'd got that one wrong. I just wanted you to love me, to hold me, to tell me it would be alright. I was so scared that you'd see me for what I thought I might be, a slut. How could I say that your wife went to bed with any old Tom Dick or Harry when the mood struck her. I had to tell you that, whatever I was, I did it with a decent man. And it wasn't his fault. I didn't want you doing anything stupidly macho against Peter. As I said at the beginning, he is a really nice guy."

"But you went on seeing him."

"Not really, not then. I told you, I'd sent him away."

"But when I came back to see you on the Sunday, you were going on again about what a great guy he was, and said you'd seen him twice in that week as well."

"Yes. Yes, I had. After you left, I confessed everything to Susan. She was my lifeline, she let me talk and talk. She took care of the boys. She did everything. On the Wednesday, she even came in to see me at the Hospital. We had lunch together. And Peter came and sat with us. I couldn't make a scene and send him away. But really he talked to Susan, about how he understood my problem, about how he wanted to help. Susan lapped it up, she was very impressed by him, which isn't surprising because he can be very charming. Afterwards she said I was probably being very cruel to him, and that I should let him meet me and say his piece, so I met him on Friday for lunch in my office. Just sandwiches. So, by Sunday, I'd met him twice."

"And what did he say?"

"That he thought he loved me. That he was going to woo me. And a lot of things about how I couldn't really love you, otherwise I wouldn't have done what I did. That he and I had something special, something magical. That if he was you, he wouldn't have run away and left me. That I shouldn't chase after you, that you had to have time to get over it, and that if you didn't come back of your own free will, well I could take a message from that. And that he'd be there for me."

"And what did Susan say?"

"Much the same really on how to deal with you. Different words, but that I had to give you time. It was up to you to take me back or not."

"And what did you feel?"

"I don't really know. There was some truth in what they were saying. I knew you had every right to divorce me. I had no defence. I was an immoral, adulterous wife. If you couldn't accept that, then you had every right to divorce me. But I cried so much when the divorce papers arrived."

"Why didn't you just come to me and say you were sorry, and beg forgiveness?"

She looked puzzled for a moment, "But I thought I did say I was sorry. I certainly was sorry. I was sorry for so many things. For the hurt I'd caused you. For the disruption that I caused Jamie and Ben. For the shame I caused Susan and Ralph. You name it, I thought of it all, and I was sorry every time."

"I know. You said sorry for so many specific things, so many aspects of it. But you never said you were sorry for going to bed with him, for the adultery. I just felt that I wanted to hear you say sorry for what you did, not sorry for the consequences of what you did. I hated that you didn't feel sorry for going to bed with him."

She thought about that, and she obviously saw my point, "You're right. I don't think I ever did say I was sorry for the actual act of betrayal itself. I am, I was then. So sorry. I still wish, every day, that I hadn't done it. I am sorry that I ever allowed myself to be tempted, and to succumbing. I really am."

"Now I know you are. But I didn't then. I could only assume that you weren't sorry for going to bed with a man you'd fallen in love with, that you were only sorry for some of the side effects. And the forgiveness?"

"I thought about that one. I thought about it a lot. But surely, to ask for forgiveness, someone has to have some hope, there has to be some thought that whatever they did they could be forgiven for it? I could see no possible excuse for what I did. It was wrong. It was treacherous. It was evil. And I should have known better. I couldn't ask you to forgive that. I respected you too much for that."

"I think you were wrong, but I understand what you're saying. Did you talk to anybody else? What about Ralph?"

"Susan said she would talk to Ralph. I did talk to him a couple of times, I think he knew how much I loved you. But he said it would be wrong of him to interfere. He'd talked to Susan about it, and you and I had to find our own way out of the mess. I tried talking to Ginny at work, but she was scathing, I remember her saying that she couldn't see why I was so surprised that you'd walked out when I confessed. She called me a cheating bitch, and left me sitting in the coffee lounge."

"Did she have her own agenda?"

"Maybe. I know she was a divorcee."

"So you let me just go forward with the divorce?"

"What could I do to stop you? You were so angry, so hurt. I didn't blame you. It was all my fault. I deserved it."

"And Peter?"

"He was awfully sweet. He did what he said he was going to do. He wooed me. He sent me flowers, he was there to talk to. He seemed to understand what I was going through. And he constantly declared his love for me. And I think he really did love me. He still does."

"So why did you come to that awful flat that night? No, before that, you'd written to me to say that you were going to marry Peter. Why?"

She gave a forlorn smile, "As I said, Peter was always pledging his love. I began to wonder, if my love for you had failed me, maybe it was because Peter did mean something special to me. I didn't feel that I loved him, but maybe it was what was meant to be. You have to remember just how broken I was at that time, I wasn't thinking straight. And then we were arguing about money and housing. And you didn't deserve to be saddled with a huge mortgage payment every month on top of what you were paying for the boys, that wasn't fair to you. And Peter was saying that he wanted to marry me, and that he'd buy a house where we could all live. He happily accepted the boys, he probably knew that we came as a packaged deal. He proposed but I hadn't accepted. It was just before he went away to some conference over in Harvard, and when he was away I came up with the idea of writing to you to say that I wished we could find some way forward together. I did put in that he had proposed, and I hinted that I was thinking of marrying Peter, to jolt you out of your hurt, to make you reconsider things. That was Susan's idea as one last desperate roll of the dice, but it didn't work."

"It was obvious that it wouldn't work. What were you thinking? It was plain stupid and it broke my heart. Any dream I had that you would be over this obsession with Peter was shattered."

"I wasn't obsessed by Peter."

"It seemed as if you were to me."

"I'm sorry. Anyway, at about that time, Ralph thought that enough was enough. He brought me down to see you. He insisted. Susan really had a go at him about interfering, but he insisted. And when I saw you, I could still see how hurt and lost you were, and all I wanted was for you to take me in your arms and hold me. I know I couldn't find the words, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. But before I could say anything, you'd turned your back on me. Ralph says it was a good three or four minutes. It seemed like a couple of seconds to me. Ideas for words kept rushing through my mind, but nothing seemed right. There was nothing I could think of to say that could take away that I'd had sex with another man. And then you turned your back."

"I went in doors." I paused "You always used to say I wasn't in touch with my inner self. That I was far too much a Typical Man. But if only you'd pushed that door open, you would have found me on the stairs very much in touch with my emotional self. I tried going up to my flat, but I broke down and cried my eyes out on the stairs. Every last hope I had that you would give up Peter and come back to me had just died. I didn't even know if I'd ever see my sons again at that moment. Everything was lost. I've been pretty low in my life, mainly through drink, sometimes through shame of how I treated some woman, but nothing, nothing compares to how low I felt that evening."

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. That's all I seem to be able to say this afternoon. Ralph told me on Wednesday what happened. I think that's when he decided to set this up. It was set up, you know. I thought you'd collected the boys before lunch. I was just coming round here to chat to Ralph and help in the garden a bit. I was surprised when I saw your car here."

"I think he knows more than he is letting on. I think he began to realise the truth last Sunday."

"I don't know. I think there was a bit of a hiatus, because Aunty Brenda got problems down in Weymouth apparently, and Susan's had to chase off down there. I think that was either Sunday or Monday."

"Well, they were having a real row on Sunday evening."

"Probably about Aunty Brenda or Uncle Derek. Ralph isn't that fond of either of them."

"Probably." I paused, and then asked, "But I still don't understand why you actually married Peter."

"Partly because it made sense. He would provide a home for us. And I was lost, I was just drifting. But mainly because I really did begin to believe that it was meant to be. That he had something special for me. I knew I didn't love him, but I thought that maybe once I was over you then maybe I would. I never have. He's nice, I like him, I respect him, but I don't love him. If I never see him again, it wouldn't worry me. I love you, I always have."

"But how could you, you of all people, you who is always so loving and passionate, how could you make a marriage to Peter work?"

Just then there was a knock at the door, we didn't answer, but we waited. Cautiously, the door opened and Ralph came in, carrying a fresh tea tray. "I thought you might like a cup of tea. You might need it."

He put it down on the coffee table, and as he bent over, he looked me in the eyes. 

I said, "John, 11:35"

He smiled, "He would have if he'd had Molly as an ex-wife."

I laughed. And it helped me to laugh, I felt some of the tension leave my body.

Although it was broad daylight, he went round the room, turning on the lamps and drawing the curtains. We watched him, but didn't say anything.

Then Molly asked, "Where are Jamie and Ben?"

"Enjoying themselves and quite safe. Don't worry about them. Worry about yourselves." He was just going out of the room, and he took the key from the outside and put it on the inside. "If you want to be sure of your privacy, then there you are." 

And we were alone again. We both stared at the door, watching him go.

Molly turned and asked, "What was that about having me as an ex-wife?"

"John 11:35. Jesus wept."

She smiled, and quietly said, "I guess he would have."

Molly poured two cups of tea. And without anything being said, we sipped them. They tasted so good. The lump in my throat seemed to subside a little. I felt refreshed.

Suddenly, Molly stood up, went over to the door and locked it. "Ralph's right. This is, in part, about sex." And she started to undress. No sexy striptease, she just pulled her jumper over her head, slipped out of her jeans, unhooked her bra, pushed her panties down her legs and slipped off her socks as she stepped out of the panties.

She stood up in front of me, quite naked. Her body was different to how I remembered it. It was older, but it was fitter. The filling out of her hips was gone, probably no more than an inch either way, but I noticed. Her breasts were tighter, maybe her nipples a little lighter in colour. Maybe it was my memory, but she looked good to me, and I felt my cock twitch. Actually, that surprised me, I thought I was way beyond any sexual response this afternoon.

I also immediately noticed that she had a very full bush. My mind went back to Myra. Don't tell me Peter was a hair enthusiast as well. Is it the latest sexual trend, and I've missed it?

She brought me back to the present, "Stop looking at my pussy for a moment, and look at my lips. The lips on my mouth, before you make a smart reply."

I raised my eyes.

"See my lips? I promise you, they have never ever touched Peter's cock. Oh, he wanted me to, but I always refused. Somehow, I never wanted to do anything sexual with him. I wanted the marriage to work, I committed myself to that, but somehow I had a double standard. It isn't logical, and it certainly wasn't fair to Peter, but I explained it away to myself, and I've lived with it for four years."

I was interested. Actually I was fascinated, this didn't make sense. "OK. Explain."

"I didn't love Peter, but I took him as my husband, and I wanted the marriage to work. I'd lost you through my own foolishness. Well to save my self-respect, I had to be a good wife the second time round. So, I never refused him sex. Ever. Actually, that's not quite true, I always refused him sex until the Decree Absolute on our marriage was declared. I wasn't going to betray you a second time for as long as I was married to you. But after that I never refused him. But, I didn't want sex with him, he wasn't you. So, somewhere in my twisted logic, I adopted a slogan: you get what you pay for."

"I don't follow."

"I told you, on that Thursday afternoon in his flat, we did it missionary position and then I rode him. Well, for four years, that's all we've ever done. I've never sucked him. There's certainly been no anal, and not even doggy-style. And it was always only in the bedroom. I did allow only two other things, he could play with and suck my breasts, and I allowed him to perform oral on me. In fact I preferred him to do that."

"Sounds a bit limited. That's not you at all. You loved our great sex life."

She knelt down on the floor again, "I loved a great sex life with you. Any time Peter asked for anything else I would refuse. I didn't want to do that, whatever it was. And if he pressed me, well I could always say 'Chris never made me do that' which was true. You never made me do any of it, I loved it and wanted to do it with you. He hated that comment, it would guarantee in the early years that he would spend the night in the spare room, he would storm off, upset. In the later years, he got wise to it, and would just go to bed on his side, with his back to me."

"Was he a good lover?"

"I don't know. He never turned me on. He only made me cum once, that time in his flat. After that, I was always thinking of you, and he couldn't make it happen."

"Surely, you haven't gone four years without an orgasm? You need them to just be healthy, to keep yourself sane. And you, of all people, used to be very good at them."

"Oh, No. I didn't say I haven't had an orgasm. Once I realised the problem, and that I was thinking about you, well I turned that to my advantage. I'd go off into fantasy-land, and it would be you making love to me. We've made love in the dunes of soft white sand and in the shade of the palm trees. We've done it in the snow on the top of mountains. We've done it on hotel balconies. You name it, and we've done it, there in my fantasy-land. You've worn leather and chained me to the bed and ravished me. I've chained you to the bed, but that didn't work, even in my dreams, because it meant you couldn't put your arms around me and hold me, and I've always wanted that."

"I'm not sure what to say."

"I'd only dream like that once or twice a month, I used to ration myself. Otherwise, I'd just lie there, make appropriate noises, and wait for him to get off. That's why I liked letting him do oral on me, then he'd disappear out of sight, and I could dream all about you, and I could have an orgasm. I liked that."

"Didn't he ever catch on? Mind you, it would have been so humiliating for him to know."

"I don't think so. I guess his ego stopped him thinking that. Doesn't every man think himself the great lover?"

"But some of us know we are." I said smiling. Then a thought struck me, "When I was there that Friday afternoon a few weeks ago, he said you hadn't worn that thong for him. You used to love sexy lingerie. And please explain that afternoon, because I've been wondering what happened."

"For you, yes I did love to dress up. I like being naked in front of you right now. It seems right somehow. But you're back to the 'you get what you pay for' theory. That afternoon at his flat I didn't have any sexy lingerie on. I had a plain pair of cotton panties and a bra that didn't match. You know how I dressed for an ordinary work day. Well that's what he bought, so that's what he got. I refused to wear any of the sexy stuff he bought me, and he bought me quite a lot, as he tried to get me to loosen up and enjoy things more, as he used to put it."

I just shook my head in amazement. I'm surprised they weren't in the divorce court long before this. "I am surprised he put up with it. Didn't he ever know anything of what we did? How free you were with me, how passionate you were?"

"No. I actually think that he thought that my lack of interest in sex was possibly at the bottom of why you left me, given the opportunity. And he loved me, so he was learning from your mistakes, and wasn't going to give up. He was always trying to tempt me to try something new."

"Anything else?"

"I saw you looking. I haven't shaved myself in three years. If you remember I used to keep myself fairly neat and tidy down there, maybe a little neater in summer than winter. Well, I continued like that for the first year. But then Peter came up with the idea of shaving me, just to a landing strip he called it. Well I didn't have a landing strip on that Thursday at his flat, and I wasn't going to have one then. After that I stopped shaving completely. I hadn't shaved for you or him that Thursday morning, so no more shaving. He hadn't bought that.."

"Did you see yourself as bought and paid for. That's demeaning."

"Well, I guess I felt demeaned, but No. I saw myself as a stupid woman that had lost the best thing that ever happened to me, and had drifted into an even more stupid situation. But, please, don't think my marriage to Peter was some horrid war. It wasn't. I really did try to be a good wife to him. I might have limited the type of sex we had, but I never refused him in frequency. He was a four of five times a week man at the beginning. Even towards the end, and he must have lost some interest with my attitude as it was, it was still a couple of times a week. And in all other respects, I really did try to be the good wife. I entertained his friends, gave dinner parties, supported him in his work. I really tried to share his life, and to share mine with him. I always thought that if I kept at it, one day I'd be happy. I wasn't unhappy, I was just never happy."

There was a pause, as I ran out of questions for the moment. Then Molly stood up, and posed provocatively in front of me. I looked at her, and my mind and cock responded. Even with all the other things I was feeling and thinking, she could still turn me on.




Back to Bristol Ch. 10



"Chris, please.. would you?"

For a moment I was tempted. But then I felt some of the emotions that were coursing through me, the hurt and the growing anger. 

"No, Molly. I won't. Not because I couldn't.." I took her hand and placed it on my erect cock, through my trousers, "But because I shouldn't. I'm not sure what emotions I would unleash if I had sex now. I don't trust myself. Please, get dressed. I've got more questions."

She looked disappointed, but she started to slowly dress. It was simply a reverse of her undressing, but I watched it.

When she was dressed, she came and sat next to me on the sofa. I half turned to be able to see her properly, I suspected that she was making herself available if I wanted to cuddle her. It wasn't in me. But I did ask, "Tell me what happened that Friday afternoon a few weeks ago. I don't think I understood everything when it was happening."

She half smiled, "You surprise me, I thought you would work it out." She took a big breath, "OK, I'll try." Again she paused, "When I saw you for the first time when I came round to your flat to talk about the boys, I think my world fell apart. I'd built up this life, this belief that I could see it through with Peter. I knew I wasn't happy, but as I said, I knew I wasn't unhappy. I really thought I was going to live my life without you, and that I could do it. That evening in your flat I realised that I was living a lie. I loved you, I wanted you, and my life with Peter was over."

She looked at me, "When I left I went down to my car and cried. After a while I was scared you might notice, so I drove half way around the square, and parked again, and finished my crying. Then I got out and walked around the square for some fresh air. I spent ages just staring up at what I thought was your window, it was a good job you never looked out."

"I watched enough to know you took your time before you pulled away the first time."

"Anyway, I realised that I had to manage the end of my marriage to Peter and talk to you. I was so scared, I had no idea whether Helene would be joining you at any time. I'd asked, but you hadn't told me. The thought of her really frightened me. I had no right to expect you to care about me if you'd given your love to someone else."

"You know now that she and I have parted?"

"Yes, Ralph told me that you'd said that, but that was much later. He said you'd said she was no Molly. That gave me hope. But, anyway, let me try to get this in order. For a few days I tried to think out what to do, and I knew I had to talk to you. So I phoned you and asked for us to go to lunch. Remember?"

"Yes. You told me that we might need a long time."

"Yes. Well when we were in the restaurant, I don't know, I just couldn't find the words. I guess I was too scared just to throw myself on your mercy. And I realised that a restaurant wasn't the place to do it anyway. You've seen what I'm like; you've seen me this afternoon; I couldn't say all that, cry as much as I have, in a public place."

"The stripping would have gone down well." I observed.

She looked at me and smiled, "You always have a funny comment, a quick word. Why? I know this is as important to you as it is to me."

I shrugged, "It's the way I cope."

"So, I realised that I was going to follow Plan B. To seduce you, and maybe we could talk after the sex, when we're feeling tender and relaxed. It was always at the back of my mind, that's part of the reason that I put on some of Peter's lingerie. When I was in the lavatory at the restaurant I suddenly realised that my thong looked so silly with all that hair sprouting out either side. Didn't you notice that I slipped into bed when you couldn't see, and took off the thong in bed?"

"And you wouldn't let me go down on you. I remember."

"That connects to something else. I'll explain that in a minute. You helped when you offered me a lift home. But I was just determined to get you into bed."

"That was fairly easy with the state of my mind that afternoon."

"Why?"

"I told Piers McBaine when he was angry at me for going to bed with another man's wife, my mind was mush. You caught me in your dining room, didn't you realise what a trip down memory lane that was for me?"

"Oh! Yes. I see what you mean. Anyway, we went to bed, with me hiding my hairy pussy. But think about what we did. What strikes you?"

"It was much the same act as you and Peter all those years ago."

"Basically, Yes. There were all sorts of reasons for that. But I did have us roll back to you being on top before I came. I just wanted to be in your arms when I came, just as I always had been in all my fantasies."

"And the other reasons?"

"There was a bit of me that felt guilty about deliberately cheating on Peter, he is my husband. But if I did no more than I did with him on that afternoon, then even if he knew, well he wouldn't have had much of an argument. Not that he was ever meant to know. And I said it would be once only, just like it had been only once with him. But there was something more important. It wasn't very good sex. It might have been important and emotional and all that, but as an act, well it was pretty average. If it came to discussing it, I would have already shown you what happened in that flat on that Thursday. I didn't know whether that would be important, but there was no harm in doing it that way."

"And later, we were going to have some version of this discussion? But Peter came home early?"

"Yes. He was convinced you set it up. That I was the poor little innocent that you seduced, just so as you could get at him and do damage to his marriage. And you seemed to desert me, you just had your go at Peter, which was wasted by the way, he never understood your Biblical reference. Ralph was the one to work that out. I even began to wonder if you had just done it for the sake of revenge, and were delighted that Peter turned up. It belittled me, but I wouldn't have blamed you. Then Peter stormed off to our cottage in Wales, and I didn't know what to think."

"So why did you come to my office?"

"Because I decided I had to talk to you, even if it was only to find out that as far as you were concerned it was just revenge. But I came to your office and there was Helene. I thought you and her were still together, that I was wasting my time, that I had no right..." She paused, but then continued, "I waited downstairs in the car park. I saw you kiss and hug her as you put her in a taxi. It seemed loving, but there was something wrong in the body language. I didn't know what to think."

"And then the next stop was Myra and the RNIB Ball?"

"Yes. We'd had that booked up for months. Peter came back that day, and said he wanted to work things through, and he wanted to forgive me. I think he'd talked himself into blaming you completely. I didn't know what to think. He still wanted to go to the Ball, but he did say we could just go out to dinner if I preferred. I chose the Ball, I thought it would be less intimate, but I went along with him. It promised to be a lousy evening, but then there you were with another beautiful girl on your arm, and that made it ten times worse than even I expected. And she said she had no intention of letting you go. And she was so much younger and more beautiful than me, and she had every right to be there with you, and I didn't. In the car going home I broke down and was weeping. I was trying to do it quietly, hoping Peter wouldn't notice, but of course he did. And so the final arguments started. By the end of the weekend he'd moved into the gym and playroom, and we are where we are."

"So why didn't you come to me."

"I think I was getting hysterical or nervous beyond reason. I think Ralph recognised it and thought I might say something if he could get us together over Easter, especially if he could get it to be on our Anniversary. Susan was dead against it, but she made no secret of the fact that she wanted me to patch it up with Peter. But Ralph was determined. I just had no idea where I stood with you. You had something going with that girl at the Ball, maybe you were going to build a new life with her, and had every right to do so. We had those wonderful couple of hours with the boys. If your brain was mush on that Friday afternoon at my house, then mine was mush that evening. And then you threw my adultery back in my face. Right out of the blue you reminded me that I was the slut. I couldn't take it and I ran away."

"And then you phoned me when I was in a taxi and just after I had dinner with Myra. Then you caught me apparently going away for a dirty weekend with her."

"You're leaving out that you took her to the theatre on Easter Saturday."

"Oh, Yes. Who told you, by the way?"

"Peter. On the Tuesday after Easter. I think he enjoyed telling me that bit. But I think Susan knew as well, I'm not sure how."

"Are you still talking to Peter?"

"Well he's living at the house, so it's difficult not to. But, no, not really. I feel sorry for him, he looks so lost, but there's nothing I can do."

I shouldn't have asked, because I didn't want to talk about Peter, so I switched back to Myra, "Myra and myself are just good friends. Good colleagues and good friends."

"That's what Ralph told me. I'm not sure I could take any competition from her."

That word, 'competition', rang in my ears. I may be stupid, thick, slow thinking, but it was only now that I saw the logical ending of this conversation. That she was thinking that she could win me back, that reconciliation was possible.

"So what now?" I asked.

She looked at me, searching my face, searching my eyes, "In my dreams, I've fantasised about this conversation so often. I've rehearsed so many versions of it. But all of them end with you taking me in your arms and kissing me, and we walk off into a future together. I love you, Chris. You are the only man I've ever loved....."

She paused, I guess so that I could take her into my arms. I didn't.

".... Now, in reality, I know it's not that easy. Is there a way? I know how I feel about you. How do you feel about me? Could you forgive me? Could you learn to love me again? I'd do anything, anything at all to be given a second chance. Please, my darling Chris....Please don't turn your back on me...Please don't walk away...not now, not this time...." The tears were rolling down her cheeks.

I shook my head, "It's not that easy. You aren't in love with me, not the me as I am now. You're in love with the me that used to be all those years ago. You don't know me now. You don't know what I've done, what I've felt, how I've changed....."

She gasped, it wasn't what she wanted to hear, "And me? how do you feel about me?"

"I don't know. I've heard the story, I don't know whether I've understood it all. I'm sure I've got hundreds of questions. If it's any consolation, I do believe you."

"But how do you feel about me?"

"I know I loved you very much. You were my life, my reason for living, if that isn't too hackneyed a phrase. And I know that I still dream of recapturing something we once had. I just don't know if I dreamt of recapturing it with you. I never even thought that was a remote possibility."

There was a long silence between us. Eventually I stood up, then I leant over and kissed her, softly on the cheek. "I'm sorry." and I walked out.

Mum, Len and Ralph were in the front garden. The wheelbarrow was there, but I suspect that they were just waiting rather than any gardening was actually getting done.

"Mum! It's Tuesday tomorrow, I've got to work, but how about I take you and Len out to dinner tomorrow night. Somewhere nice, my treat."

She totally ignored my question, "How was it? You know we are all here for you. We wish you well."

"I don't think there's a lot to be said. I guess it's nice to know, but it's all too late, too long ago."

"Take your time. Think about it." She squeezed my hand.

Ralph stepped forward. "I need to talk to you Chris. Not now, I'm sure you've been hit with enough, but soon. There are things I must tell you, things that Molly doesn't know. Things that may change the way you think."

I tried to smile, but there was no smile in me. "I'm not sure it is the way I think, it's the way I feel, the way I am now."

There was a silence. Mum was squeezing my hand. It was Len who interceded, "I think going out to dinner tomorrow night would be lovely. We'd be delighted, wouldn't we Dear?"

Mum vaguely realised he was talking to her, "Oh! What? Yes. Yes, of course."

"How about I pick you up here at seven thirty, say. I'll get a table booked for eight. Will you fit in the back of my car, Len?"

"You betcha. I've been looking forward to ride in that ever since I saw it."

Ralph didn't give up, "If your picking them up at seven thirty, why not get here at seven? We can have half an hour."

I looked at him, "You said that there are things Molly doesn't know. I don't like that. Is your family riven by secrets, Ralph? If you're telling me things, then make sure that Molly knows them first. I've had enough secrets for this month, thank you."

He hung his head and looked worried, "I don't know how I'm going to tell her, but you're right. I promise I will have seen her by then."

"OK. Tomorrow night then." And then I suddenly thought of Jamie and Ben, "I haven't seen the boys. Where are they."

This time Ralph smiled, "They're not here. I stretched things a little. They are with Emma Tanner's grand-daughter. Only she's eighteen, and I bribed her and her boyfriend to take them to see that film they wanted. They aren't back yet. But I expect they're enjoying themselves. But I'm glad you're thinking about them."

As I got in my car, I realised that with all that she'd said, all that she wanted, Molly hadn't accused me of treating the boys badly for the last few years, or tried blackmailing me with them to get me back. I smiled, that was the old Molly. She would never use the boys as a weapon in whatever goes on between us. I loved her for that.



Back to Bristol Ch. 11



I drove home on that Holiday Monday afternoon, I not quite sure how, I don't remember any of the journey. But I got home, and I don't think I left a trail of destruction in my wake. 

As I put the key in my front door all I could think about was having a large whisky. Then I heard a little voice saying: No, don't run to the whisky bottle. Instead I put on a pair of shorts and picked up my cycle helmet.

I cycled and cycled. I found the start of the Bristol-Bath cycle route, and I set out. By the time I got to Bath I was exhausted. I hadn't cycled that far in years, if ever. At first, I had been full of angry energy, now I'd be grateful for any energy. I'm not sure how I managed it, but I turned round and cycled back again. By the time I pushed the bike up the last hill towards home, I guess I'd cycled about thirty five miles, maybe a bit less. I was knackered, my back screamed at me, by thighs just ached, my knees refused to bend anymore, and I had basically no feeling in my legs below my knees. Even my shoulders ached, and what have they got to do with cycling? Shoulders don't put any effort in!

I got into my flat, and I flopped down in a chair. I must have sat there for half and hour, just sitting there. Finally I dragged myself off for the longest, hottest shower of my life.

By now it was getting late. I felt better, and was padding around the flat in my bath robe, when my phone rang. It was Len.

"Hello, Chris. I thought I'd give you a call. Are you OK?"

"I went for a cycle ride. God only knows what made me do it, but I've just cycled about a hundred miles more than I should. I never knew what knackered meant until now."

He laughed, "Well, you sound alright."

"What's happening at your end?"

"Oh, your mother and Ralph took Molly and the two boys back to their house. I think Ralph was to look after Molly, and your mother wasn't objecting to looking after the boys. She's just phoned me to say that they're on their way back, and now she's starting to worry about you. That's why I phoned, so that I can put her mind to rest when she gets here."

"Well, tell her I'm OK. To tell you the truth, I'm not sure what to think or do. She threw a hell of a lot at me this afternoon, Len. I don't think I've thought it all through yet."

"Well take your time. Ralph said he tried to warn you that he was sure Molly was going to ask you to do the hardest thing you've probably ever done in your life, only he knows you misunderstood him."

I laughed, "Well I wasn't expecting this one."

"I'm sure a lot of well meaning people will want to know what you're going to do. They expect you to instantly make up your mind. Tell them to bugger off, take your time, and come to the right answer in your own time."

"Well, I'm going to have a whisky and go to bed soon."

"Make sure it's only one. I suspect you found too much friendship in a whisky bottle when all this started, years ago. I don't blame you, it's just that there are better ways."

"That's why I went cycling, so now my drug of choice is ibuprofen to stop the aches and pains."

Len laughed, "See you tomorrow evening, Chris. I'll look forward to it."

He was right, a cup of coffee and a couple of ibuprofen would be better than a whisky. 

I sat in my chair, and considered what Molly had told me, and what I thought of it all. I think I was still reacting, I'm knew I still hadn't thought it all through. But, I had come to some conclusions. I was convinced that what she told me was the truth, or at least the truth as she saw it.

Somehow, I could vaguely accept that it explained the divorce. I was part of that, I divorced her after all. And I could see how I got trapped into my belief, into the misunderstanding of the facts. I knew how hurt I was, how angry I was, maybe how unreasonable I was. I could see how the divorce happened. But she should have come to me, or Ralph or someone should have said something. But no one did.

I had real difficulty in accepting that she went off and married Peter. She knew she didn't love him. OK, people do make mistakes, especially on the rebound. Especially when depressed or shocked or whatever her mental state was. But to do something downright stupid and wrong... well that isn't the Molly I thought I knew. And it is someone who I didn't like very much.

And then there was the big one, could we put it all back together? And I hadn't the faintest idea about that one. My inclination was to say No. But was that good sense or cowardice? I didn't know the answer to that either.

I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow. I guess physical exhaustion has something in its favour.

I woke up the next morning to a little routine that I have practiced so often in my life. I sit on the edge of the bed, and I promise: Never Again. Usually it is never to drink that much again, occasionally it has been never to treat some woman that badly again, this time it was never ever to cycle that far again without getting myself fully fit first. 

My legs ached, my back ached, but far more important than that was that my arse was so bloody sore. At the end of a hot shower, which eased my muscles but stung my butt, I could stand upright and even walk at a world shattering pace of about ten miles per century, but my arse just hurt. Eventually I found a half used bottle of after-sun cream, which was the nearest thing I had to any skin cream, and I salved my cheeks with that. It helped.

I cautiously walked through Carole's office, with a surly "Morning." from me. 

As I walked to my desk, she followed me, "What happened to you? You didn't meet Peter Davies in that dark alley did you?"

I knew she was joking, but there was an element of truth in it. I smiled to myself, grimly. 

"I went for a cycle ride, and I shouldn't have."

"Jamie and Ben too fit for you?"

"I was by myself, and I cycled to Bath and back as a one off. And I don't think I've ever cycled that far and certainly not for years."

She paused thinking about that, "That must be over thirty miles. What in the world made you do a thing like that?"

"Nothing. It seemed a good idea at the time."

"Rubbish. Was this the macho Dad, proving something to his sons? Something like that?"

Very quickly I was becoming tired of this conversation and the direction it could take. I tried to move it along, "I don't feel too good today. Any chance we can make sure I have a fairly light day?"

"I'll check the diary. It wasn't going to be too bad anyway. I think you were going to sit here and let a parade of people come and see you." Again she paused, "So what made you do it? You didn't suddenly decide to torture every muscle in your body. Look at you, you can hardly walk. What made you do it, Chris?"

"Nothing. I had some things to think about, that's all."

"Think about what?"

"Think about whether I should sack an over inquisitive secretary. Can we talk about my diary?"

That seemed to close the conversation, and with only one meeting postponed, I expected to get through the day without leaving my office. 

I did ask Carole to phone the estate agent for the flat I'd fancied. I'd told the agent on Sunday that I would take it, but now she needed all the details of bank references and personal details for the lease. 

Carole looked pleased.

I was suspicious, "Why are you smiling?"

"Two reasons. I thought that was the nicest flat, the one I would have taken if I were you. But also, the agent, she's a niece. About twenty five times removed, but we are related. I told you I had a huge family, and they pop up at surprising moments."

"Well you can also ask her if she knows of someone who can do my cleaning, and better still, do my laundry as well."

By lunchtime I was feeling better, and I went down to the canteen. The sight of the MD queuing for his lunch and sitting with a bunch of juniors was no longer something to whisper about. I sat with a bunch from IT. Sod's law played, one of them happened to be a very keen cyclist. Half and hour of advice on what I did wrong was not what I needed.

As I came back to my office, Myra was there, talking to Carole. I only caught one phrase from Myra as I approached the open door, "I can try and have a word with him, if you think it will help. He might talk to ....". No prizes for guessing what that was about.

I closed Carole's outer door and turned and looked at them, "My ex-wife of four years chose yesterday to tell me that she'd never loved Peter Davies. That she loved me, only me, and she still does. OK?"

I just kept on walking to my desk, as I turned to sit on the far side, I realised that they had both followed me into my office and were standing in the middle of the room, just looking at me.

"And I'm not going to talk about it. Not now, not until I've grasped it all and vaguely feel that I might understand it. So can we get some work done, please?"

Myra had the good grace to step backwards, and to leave. Carole just stood there looking at me. Suddenly her face softened, "Shit happens!" she announced, and then she too left.

We got through the afternoon without Carole saying a word about Molly. I was grateful for that. 

At about six o'clock she came into my office, "I'm off now. Chris, if you'd like to come back to my place you'd be most welcome. It's only going to be fish pie, it's one of Rick's favourites....."

I looked at my watch, "That's very kind, Carole. Thank you. But, in less than an hour, I've got to be at my ex-father's. Apparently he's got some more family secrets that he wants me to know. As if I didn't have enough problems. But then I'm taking my mother and step-father out to dinner...."

"Your mother!? I thought she was in Australia..."

"She was. But she secretly came all the way here, so that she could enjoy yesterday's little festivities. In fact she played a part in it...."

She stepped up to my desk and reached for my hand. She gave it a gently squeeze, "Look after yourself, Chris." She smiled and then turned and left.

At seven o'clock I was knocking at Ralph and Susan's. Len opened the door, "Ralph's in the sitting room. He's waiting for you."

Ralph was sitting in an easy chair, he looked up at me as I came in. I knew he was sixty two or sixty three, he looked to be in his seventies. He smiled, "Would you like a drink, Chris?"

"No thanks. I'll be drinking at dinner."

"You don't mind if I have one. I could do with it."

I watched him as he poured himself a small brandy and ginger. As he sat down again, he looked at me, "Tell me Chris, did Susan come and see you about a week after you'd actually issued the divorce petition?"

"No. As far as I know, she didn't try. I didn't have any message that she wanted to see me. Why?"

He sighed, "That's what I guessed." He paused, "I knew, I always knew that Molly regretted her little dalliance with Peter. I kept telling her that she had to go and see you, to talk to you. I think she was just feeling too guilty, too scared to do so. And she'd got hold of the idea that you had to come to her. Anyway, Susan and myself had this pact that we wouldn't interfere, it was very important to Susan. She said our role was to look after Molly and to see Jamie and Ben through it. She put a lot of time and effort into that."

"I'm grateful for that, Ralph. I really am."

He didn't like my interruption, "Hear me out. Well, one evening I really began to get a bit hot under the collar about someone, anyone, at least trying to talk to you. I said I was going round to see you, then and there. Susan told me not to, that I was too upset to do it. But she promised to go and see you the next day. Well we know now that she didn't. But when I asked, she told me she had seen you. That you'd rejected any approach, that Molly had been unfaithful and that was that."

"She never saw me."

"Now I know that. Since that Sunday, when we talked down in the shed, I've realised that Susan actively worked to see you and Molly break up. I don't know the whole story, I doubt whether we ever will, but she's lied to me on several occasions, and she's made things happen or not happen that suited her cause."

I sat back in my chair, and sighed, "Wow!" I looked at him, "You really do believe that, don't you?"

"Sadly, Yes. When you told me how upset you were that night when I brought Molly down to see you... And I can't tell you how angry Susan was with me that I did that. It was the only night in over thirty years of marriage that we chose to sleep in separate bedrooms. Anyway, once you'd told me and I went in I was so angry with Molly, and I started to rant and rave. But then somehow it didn't fit, that you were so upset that night, when you'd been so deaf to Susan's entreaties only a few weeks before." He looked up at me, "Well, I know when my wife is guilty. It shows in her eyes. So then I asked her about Good Friday, that you thought she had lied. That got to her, she was guilty about that as well, but when I pushed her she suddenly broke out as to how she had to bring Peter and Molly back together, before you and Molly got together. She was really scared that you might come back into the picture."

"You told me that she was scared of me."

"I hadn't realised how much. Well, after that I lost my temper, I think you saw me. And I began to ask some very awkward questions. Now I believe that she did all in her power to make the rift between you and Molly permanent, and then to push Molly and Peter together."

I sat quietly for a moment, just thinking about that and all its ramifications, "You're saying she did her best to not only split up Molly and me, but to break up her own grandsons' home. And talk Molly into marrying a man she didn't love. That's horrible. What sort of mother is she?"

"Oh, I think she sees it as building a happy family. A nice house here in Bristol, and a man who isn't going to go out and conquer the world. Her grandsons just down the road, and she can see them three or four times a week. And when they started getting awkward with Peter, she suggested that they stay here some nights, to give Molly and Peter some time to themselves. Perfect as far as she was concerned."

"So what happened?"

"Well we had an almighty row on that Sunday night. Followed by an icy calm and harsh words on the Monday. The only break I took was that I phoned your mother in Melbourne. I told her that I just had to get you and Molly together. Anyway, as far as Susan was concerned, I said I wanted her to go away for a bit. Not only was I pleased to see the back of her, I've never been so disgusted with her in all our married life, I was beyond anger. But I also wanted her out of the way, I didn't want her using underhand tactics if I was going to try to get you and Molly together. Eventually, I got her to go down to her sister's in Weymouth. Maybe the sea air will help her think about what she's done."

"Did you talk to Molly?"

"Not about this, not then. I intended to. I went around there, after Susan had left, on the Wednesday evening. I had to explain her mother's absence, after all. But I started with really laying into her for not talking to you on that night that I brought her to see you. I told you, I reduced her to tears, and I still kept going. But whilst she was all raw emotion, I suddenly asked her if she still loved you. She had tears running down her face from me shouting at her, but she said, 'More than you can ever imagine', but that you were never to know. You had every reason to hate her and probably did. That you had your own life now, and she had no right to interfere. That you must never know. She made me promise never to tell you. She did admit that she had thought about it, that she'd beg you to take her back, now that you were back in Bristol, but after the Easter Monday episode she'd decided against it. It was her fault she'd lost you through her own mistakes, and she could never have you back."

"So what happened?"

"Well she was far too upset for me to launch an attack on her mother. So I left and came to see you. To beg you to go and see her." He tried to smile, "But you were as scared as she was. That's why your mother and I cooked up yesterday's little charade."

"But you've seen Molly today?"

"Yes, I went round to see her early this afternoon. I told her what I suspected of Susan's games. Of course Molly was horrified and said I must be mistaken. But I told her of the two or three times that I know or am pretty sure that Susan lied to me. Eventually, I think I got her re-appraising Susan and what she did and said."

"Poor Molly." was all I could say, "To have to think that of your own mother."

For a moment, Ralph looked at me, very straight in the eyes, "I really am so sorry Chris. I feel guilty. A man should know what's going on under his own roof. He should know what his wife is doing, especially about family. I really am so sorry that I let you down. It seems that me, my wife, my daughter, we're all good at that." He sighed again.

"I don't know what to say, Ralph, except, maybe I'm just sorry for you." I paused and looked at my watch, "I guess I'd better go. Mum and Len will be waiting. Do they know about all this?"

"Yes, I told them. There's no point in keeping secrets."

"You and Susan? You'll be alright, won't you? We don't need another broken marriage on our hands."

"Oh, we'll pull through. You get used to living with all sorts of things. And you don't even think of breaking up when you've been married as long as we have. Don't worry about that."

I looked at my watch, "Well, I guess I ought to go and find Mum and Len." I looked at him, he seemed an old and broken man, "Are you going to be alright? Why not come with us? Mum and Len won't mind."

"No. I promised Molly that I'd go around there with a Chinese, after she's got the boys to bed. I think I'd like to check that she's OK. You go off and have a good evening."

Once I'd got the three of us in my car, and we'd set out, I had an admission, "I've got to confess, I haven't booked anywhere. I haven't been the brightest spark today. Sorry."

Len's voice came from the back seats, "Maybe you've had other things on your mind."

"Let's go and see if Les Jardins is still there." Mum suggested.

Les Jardins was the height to sophistication to the widow of a railway worker years ago. It was French. In fact it was a cheerful café, with good basic French peasant food, good wines, and a cheerful atmosphere. Myself and Molly had eaten there a couple of times before we were married, but I hadn't any idea whether it was still in business. 

So I headed for Les Jardins. Whilst we drove along the inevitable discussion started on Susan. Mum was quite clear, she was a selfish inhuman bitch. I don't think Mum had an ounce of sympathy for a woman scared of losing her daughter and grandsons to an ambitious husband. I think I was just saddened by Susan's behaviour, but I didn't know whether she had done any real damage, except maybe to Ralph. I accepted that she had tried to come between myself and Molly, but whether she was successful depended on Molly and how she felt her actions were coloured by her mother.

Les Jardins was still in business. In fact someone had taken a strategic decision, because it was obvious that they now style themselves as a theme restaurant, with a French peasant theme. And their prices had risen to match. But we got a table and were soon served our drinks.

Mum isn't a person to hold back until the coffee stage on saying what's on her mind. So I wasn't surprised when she looked across the table and started, "What do you think, Chris, about all you've been told in the last couple of days?"

I shrugged, "I guess in some ways, it's good to know the truth. But whether it changes anything..."

"Of course it changes things. You've got an opportunity to get your family back. It's what you must do, I know it will be hard, but it's your duty for Jamie and Ben's sake."




Back to Bristol Ch. 11



That word 'duty' hit me. "It's not my duty to patch up some uneasy truce with Molly just so that Jamie and Ben have their mother and father under one roof. It's better that they live in a happy home with only one parent, or with a step-dad or something, than that Molly and myself pretend we're back together. I don't need a lecture on duty to my sons, Mum."

She looked at me, her eyes closing slightly with steely determination, forged by years of widowhood and being a lone parent. "And you don't know the first thing about being a single mother. Yes it is your duty to provide a loving home for Jamie and Ben, just as it was my duty to provide a loving home for you and Brian when your father died."

"That was different, Mum. Dad was killed, and of course that's the worst thing, but he was never unfaithful. You don't have to live with the image of him in the arms of another woman. He didn't turn his back on you and choose someone else."

"No he didn't. But I wish he had. Then, at least maybe I might have had the option that you have now, of being able to take him back." She put her hand out to take hold of Len's hand as it lay on the table, he naturally spread his fingers and they held hands, fingers intertwined, as she went on, "I remember the day he died. Mrs Foxton came in and she cooked yours and Brian's tea, but it was me that read you your bedtime story. I don't know how I could see the words on the page through my tears. The man I loved, the man who was the father of my sons, was lying dead in a mortuary. And that wasn't your fault. You'd lost your Daddy, and you were innocent, and it was my duty, yes Duty, to give you as loving and as normal a life as I could. I wanted to curl up and die but I couldn't, I had a duty to his sons....."

I listened, and I watched her knuckles go white with tension as she gripped Len's hand. She was crushing it.

"...and doing my duty was actually what helped give me my life back. You and Brian had to be looked after. You had to have your laundry done. You had to have your meals cooked. I couldn't just lie in bed and mourn the death of the man I loved. And slowly, very slowly I learnt how to live my new life. It wasn't a life that I would have chosen, but it was all I had. I loved you and Brian, and it was my duty to see it through." She looked at me, a couple of tears running down her cheek, "Now it's your duty to try and give your innocent sons their family back."

She sat back in her chair and I saw her relax her grip on Len's hand. He withdrew his hand and quietly flexed it, probably checking that it still worked. There was silence for a long pause, until Len said, "We ought to order."

Somehow we got through the meal. The conversation was strained and limited. I wasn't happy, not at all happy, and there was a big black cloud over us.

I did learn a little of the story of how they decided to join Ralph in his plot to bring myself and Molly together. When Ralph phoned Mum she was very doubtful, but she phoned me to try and find out if I would even consider going back to Molly. Well, because I didn't know what questions she was asking, I didn't answer them very well. So she phoned Brian, and he agreed to come and see me, and make his own judgement.

"You got him to travel hundreds miles just to chat to me. And you mean there is no expert on Wordsworth at Bath University?"

Len smiled, "I'm sure there is. Whether Brian ever actually went to see him or not, we don't know."

Mum intervened, "And Brian apologises for being so rude about Molly. He couldn't think of any other way to get you to really react to the mention of her name."

I smiled, "I guess I fell for it."

"Well you convinced Brian that there was something still there. And he phoned me back. And I phoned Ralph and said we'd catch the next flight."

"You flew all that way just to play your part in yesterday's little game?"

She smiled, "No. It's nice to come back and see you, and to see Brian of course. But it's because we wanted to be here for you, Chris. You face some of the hardest days you're ever going to have to face, so we are here. That's what parents do for their children."

I noted the unspoken implication.

At the end, when it was time to pay, Mum excused herself to go to the Ladies. Len looked at me, and his face softened, "Your mother has strong views. I wouldn't have used the word she used. It isn't your duty, but it is an opportunity, and you're not the sort of man to turn down the opportunity to do the right thing."

"But there's no point, Len. Too much water has passed under the bridge. You can't put the toothpaste back in the tube." 

"Yes you can if you do it carefully and take your time. And if you need a break, well why not come down to see us in Melbourne. You know there's always a bed there. Bring the boys if you want. And if you just need to remember why you've gone back, then look into Jamie's or Ben's eyes, that'll tell you why you have to try."

I realised that he may have used softer words, but actually he was in full agreement with Mum. Maybe that was why they were happily married. They saw eye to eye on the important things. I'm not sure I had their vision.

In the car heading back to Ralph's, I did find out their immediate plans. They were going to spend the rest of this week in Bristol, looking up old friends and old places. Then they were off to Newcastle to see Brian, Morag and the grandchildren. Then they thought they'd hire a car and do a tour of Scotland. Apparently they were in no rush to get home, and they would always be at the end of a phone for me, and would happily come back whenever I needed them. I got the distinct impression that they were going to stay until they saw me and Molly ensconced in a little cottage with roses around the door, and the boys happily riding their bikes up and down the drive. It could be a long holiday for them.

When we got to Ralph's I guess he heard the car because he came out to greet us. When the initial exchanges were over, I looked at him, "How is she?"

He shrugged, "Like me, getting used to the idea. We had a pleasant supper, and we talked. It is hard for her to know how much of what she thought at that time was guided, helped, by Susan. She doesn't think Susan ever lied to her, but maybe she was seeing Peter on the side to agree tactics. We just don't know."

I shook my head and sighed, "What a nightmare."

"Any idea what you'll do, Chris?"

"None whatsoever, except think about things. But I can't see.... I just don't see how.... It would never work."

"Give it time. And go on talking to her. If nothing else, try becoming friends again."

A thought suddenly hit me, "Do you know how things stand with Peter?"

"Not a clue. You'll have to ask her."

And I immediately decided that that was what I'd do. I got back in my car and headed for Molly's house. It was nearly eleven o'clock and I hoped she would still be up. I had a bit of trouble finding it, but I approached the house quietly. I didn't know whether Peter was there or not, the lights in the garage-gym-guest suite were off, but there were some on upstairs in the main house. I had no idea where Peter was. I was as quiet as I could be, but I had no option but to press the doorbell, hoping that it would ring deep inside the house and not disturb Peter if he was asleep in the guest suite. It didn't, and the door opened on the security chain. Molly peeped out, she saw it was me, and silently opened the door wide and waited for me to enter.

She was dressed in a towelling robe and a pair of towelling mules. She hadn't an ounce of make-up and her hair was straight and pulled back. I guess she was just out of a bath or shower.

"I'm sorry it's late, but I wanted to know something."

"Then I'm glad you came. Do you want a coffee, or a drink or something?"

"An orange juice would be nice."

She led the way to the kitchen, and whilst she poured an orange juice for me, and a glass of milk for herself, I looked round. The room looked emptier than when I'd last seen it.

"It looks barer in here. What's happened?"

"Peter's got the microwave and the television and a few other things. That's all."

We looked at each other as we sipped our drinks, "What happened after I left yesterday?"

"Everyone was very nice. Of course they wanted to know what you'd said. Your mother was the nicest, she made me go through all my story so that she heard it from my own lips, I guess. Until then, she'd been working on Ralph's word. But she said I had to give you time." She smiled forlornly, "As if I had an option."

"Well, don't hold your breath." I instantly responded, but then I thought that that was a cruel thing to say, so I followed it up with some kindness, "You've had a dreadful day, I understand. What do you think of Ralph's theory about Susan?"

She sighed, "Certainly there are parts of it that hold water. I didn't know she'd promised to come and see you when I wouldn't. But she was the one telling me that I had to leave you alone, that you had to make up your own mind. If she told me and Ralph different things, well that shows she was playing at something." 

She paused and looked at me, I just waited, "More recently, since Peter and myself have got to the end, she's been a lot more open about wanting to bring him and me back together. But that was reasonable, I guess. She didn't want her daughter to face losing her second husband, she wanted to save the marriage if she could. She didn't make a big secret out of it. Although if she did see Peter on Good Friday without telling anyone, and then she lied about it to Ralph, well that's a different matter. I suppose it also explains the desperate need to go to a concert in Wells on Easter Day. That turned out to be a three hour lecture on what a wonderful husband Peter was, and that you were...I don't know what word she would use, but your job and your ambition got in the way of being a good husband. She also attacked you for deserting the boys, although I'm not sure what she expected you to do when you were based in Holland. Anyway, it was obvious that she'd do anything to stop you and I getting together."

"That doesn't take much deduction. I wondered if that was what she was playing at when she dragged you off to Wells, long before Ralph came up with his ideas."

She shrugged, "If you were to take me back, well I can't promise you a loving mother."

She sat down on a kitchen stool, and her robe fell open to show a delicious amount of leg. She looked down on it, and then looked up at me, but she didn't adjust the robe.

As she looked at me, she started talking, "What I hate is that, if it's all true, then I don't know how much she influenced me, how much she guided me towards things that were so wrong. I've just had a long hot bath, and I lay there, wondering if I actually know the truth of my own history." She smiled rather sadly, "I remember the first time I ever went out with Peter, after you and I had split. He'd been sending me flowers and cards regularly, and I'd got to the point where I wasn't actually avoiding him. It must have been at about the time we were arguing about custody we were just beginning to argue about the house and money. If he came and sat with me at lunch or in a coffee break, I didn't bother to send him away. I don't think I had the energy. Anyway, he invited me to go to his flat for dinner one evening. Of course I said No."

"But, Susan convinced you?" I asked.

"Basically, Yes. She said it would do me good to put on a nice dress and some make-up and go out for the evening, to not just sit at home and mope. And, of course, she would baby-sit. But I thought I couldn't go back to that flat. It was her that convinced me that it would help me if I faced my demons, that it was a nice flat with a nice man who understood what I was going through, and it was only dinner. I guess some of her ideas made some sense. I was very reluctant, but, as usual with me and Susan, I conceded. It was what happened when I was there that really I've been thinking about. That's where I'm beginning to reassess history."

I wasn't sure that I was going to like this bit, but I still asked, "What happened?"

"Well, I did feel better for getting dressed up. And Peter was very charming and sweet. But, when we had sat down and had our pre-dinner drinks there was a plate of wonderful mixed olives laid out. Well, you know how much I love olives, you got me some when I came to see you when you first came back to Bristol. These were Greek ones with feta cheese and sun dried tomatoes, they were delicious. But, I'm sure I never mentioned to Peter that I loved olives. So was it coincidence or had Susan tipped him off?"

"You'll never know. Sorry."

"But there's more. At the table there was a lovely bunch of sweet peas. Well, what are my favourite flowers?"

"Sweet peas."

"Exactly. And I know, I'm certain that I never told him. You don't say to a man who is sending you bouquets of roses and carnations and lilies that he would have done far better if he'd given you a simple bunch of sweet peas. But, when I said something about them, he told me they were his favourite flower. Coincidence or Susan's advice? And you'll never guess what the meat was."

"At this rate, a veal escalope?"

"Oh, how perceptive you are! Again, apparently it was his favourite. But for pudding it wasn't profiteroles, that would have been too obvious. But it was beautiful little chocolate mousses. Close enough for us to discuss how we both just love chocolate puds. You see, Chris, it was a Chinese water torture, drip, drip, drip, on how Peter and myself were destined for each other."

I didn't say anything, and she looked at me, "You have to remember how totally lost and low I was. You could have told me that black was white and I'd have believed you." She paused, "That was the first time he proposed. It wasn't a 'Molly, please marry me'. It was just when I was saying that we were now fighting over the house and I said it was inevitable that our lovely home would be sold. And he, of course, said how he'd never see me homeless, he'd always provide a home for me and the boys. Again, it was that you were walking away, and he was my rescuer. Drip, drip, drip."

"That was your first date?"

"It wasn't a date in the romantic sense. I think I allowed him to kiss my cheek when I arrived, but maybe my lips as I left. But it was still very chaste. But those drips became a flood over the next few weeks. I'd let him into my life, and for that I will always be ashamed. Well, I hope he really bloody hates veal and chocolate, because I certainly shoved them down his throat for the next four years." And she took a large gulp of milk.

That was the first time I'd heard her say anything against Peter. I liked it. I did wonder if I should tell him my version of Peter's character, but she'd had enough bad news of her mother for today. 

Instead, I asked, "So how do things stand between you and Peter?"

She shrugged, "The marriage is over. When he moved into the gym he said he was going to see his solicitor, but I haven't heard anything. I haven't really given it a lot of thought. I've been thinking about you." 

She looked up at me, and as she did so, her robe fell even more open. Now one side of the robe had fallen completely away from her lap, which was still completely covered by the overlap side. But one side of her leg, all the way up to her hip, was now open to view. She looked at me quite knowingly.

But then her face changed, she looked at bit sheepish, but didn't move the robe, "I want to say something about yesterday. I want to apologise about undressing and hoping that you'd...that we'd have sex. It was stupid to expect or even hope for that at that time. It's just that.... I want....I've spent four years fantasying about you. And I dream of you and me making love, doing things that I've not only denied Peter but I've denied myself. I'm embarrassed at just how stupid I was yesterday,. And thank you, you were the perfect gentleman." 

"Was it only yesterday? It seems days ago.... " I paused, "Anyway, I wasn't such a perfect gentleman. I did notice that you are looking good. I guess that's having a home gym."

"That's Peter's. He does have a bit of an ego, he prides himself on his looks and his charm, and he worked hard to keep his body. As for me, well it was really just healthy good sense, but I always had you in mind, I think I always wondered if I would get a chance to win you back. I knew your last image of me was as a twenty seven year old girl, I'm a thirty one year old woman now." She smiled, "And you'd like me more now than yesterday, I just shaved myself when I was in the bath. The first time in over three years. And it felt very good."

"Completely?"

"No. Just as I used to be, maybe a little bit less, but not much. D'you want to see?"

"I don't think I should. I have no right. And anyway, I've got backache and my legs still ache from cycling too far yesterday. I couldn't do anything tonight, even if I wanted to."

"Ralph said that you went cycling."

There was a long pause, eventually I brought us back to the purpose of my visit, "You should do something about a divorce. It's not fair to you or the boys or even to Peter to let it drag on."

She looked at me for a long time, probably deciding if this was something I was demanding before we went any further. Maybe it was, but I hadn't thought of it like that. I just wanted her rid of that man.

Eventually, she said, "You're right. I'll try getting to a solicitor tomorrow. I'll use the same one I used for us. She seemed OK. I'll phone her in the morning."

"Good." was all I said because I didn't think it was the right time to tell her how I wanted to see her grind that man into the ground with the toughest, messiest divorce ever. So I changed the subject, "So, next question: What am I going to get Jamie for his birthday?"

"I'd tell you if I knew what I was going to get him myself. All he ever says he wants is a puppy, and now isn't the time to be buying puppies. And he wants his own phone, but I'm sorry, at nine years old he doesn't need it and he'd probably lose it within the first week."

"How about a Playstation or Wii?"

"Well, I've avoided them up until now, but maybe I've got to admit defeat. It's just that I'd have to keep my eye on what games they played and for how long."

"OK, I'll try to think of something else, but I'll keep them as first reserve if I get desperate."

"OK, I suppose. But do your best, please. It's a rough time for both of them, and I don't want to have to be the hard mother...."

I was tempted...but I didn't! Instead, I moved towards the door, saying, "I must be going."

"You don't have to. Please, Chris, couldn't you stay, we don't have to do anything. Please?"

I looked at her, "I'm sorry. I don't want you to think that we... that somehow it all just goes back together. It doesn't. And in your heart you know it."

She looked at me for a long time, and then she said, quite quietly, "As I said to your mother, I've no option but to wait. And I will wait. I love you, Chris. I just need a chance to show it.."

I kissed her on the cheek and let myself out, very quietly. I still wasn't sure whether Peter was asleep just the other side of window I was passing.

The next morning Carole brought me a coffee and the big diary.

"Thanks." Was all I said.

"You're in Exeter all day tomorrow. Anything you want me to do in your absence?"

"I should be back here by about four, and I can't think of anything that you don't know about....Oh, Yes, can you ask Piers McBaine to call in the next time he's over here? Nothing urgent, but I heard a rumour that Peter Davies isn't working too well at the moment. I thought I ought to pass it on."

She made a note on her pad, and then she looked at me, "Do you know, you haven't got anything booked for lunch today? And do you know, I'm not doing anything for lunch either?"




Back to Bristol Ch. 11



I looked at her for a long pause, "I'm not going to get away with it, am I?"

Carole looked straight into my eyes, and her eyes were sympathetic, "Yes you can. If you want to get away with it, then I won't press you. But if you'd like to talk...."

I thought about it for quite a long pause, then I smiled, "OK. Get the canteen to send up a tray for two. It might do me some good to try and put it into some form of logical order. It's all going around and around in my head, and every one I talk to about it already knows the story, so I haven't actually worked through it as one whole story."

And that's what we did. Sitting in my office, I talked and Carole listened. It took me almost an hour to get through the whole thing. Carole only asked questions when she didn't understand and she made no comment. 

At the end, I paused. "Well, you must admit that's as good as any of your soap operas."

She ignored that, "What are you going to do?"

"I hoped that you'd tell me."

"I can understand why you need some time to think it all through. For every thought I have there is an equal and opposite thought in the other direction. That Susan's a piece of work though, isn't she?"

"Well, the real question is: How much did she actually influence Molly. Molly did a terrible thing in marrying Peter, but how much was she sort of brainwashed into doing it?"

"I can't answer that. I can imagine that Susan was driven with selfish maternal instincts. I've felt them myself."

I waited.

"When the twins were sixteen, seventeen, eighteen and still at school, there was a whole bunch of them, girls and boys, and they seemed to use our house as their base. And, of course, they would pair off and have dates. I loved that time, the house was always full of noise and young people. And the girlfriend-boyfriend thing was just young love. Now they're at university, and they bring home serious girlfriends. Young ladies who are going to take my sons away. And if they don't, then another one will come along and do so. It takes all my resolve to welcome those girls into my home, and my first thought is where are they from, where will they take him off to. It would be easy to let those emotions slip into something sick and damaging. I guess that's what she did. But she was so wrong, very wrong. In the end, what she did was hurt her own child, and no mother can be forgiven for doing that."

I listened, I guessed there was some truth in what she said, "I'm sure your twins will marry nice girls, and you'll have a great relationship with them."

She smiled, "Oh, I'm sure they will, and I'm sure I'll love the girls who win their hearts. But I know I will worry, and have to keep an eye on myself at the beginning. It's a whole new relationship to learn, and that can be hard."

We paused and there was a thoughtful silence between us, until Carole summed up, "Susan was wrong, but I don't really know what to say about the rest of it."

"Nor do I." I said, smiling and standing up, "And in the meantime, we have a company to run."

On the Wednesday evening, Molly phoned to say that she'd called the solicitor, but the earliest that she could have an appointment was last thing on Thursday afternoon. And she told me, that as Jamie's birthday was on Tuesday, and Mum and Len were going to be up in Newcastle with Brian by then, it had been decided to give him a family birthday tea at Susan and Ralph's house on Friday afternoon. I told her I wouldn't be able to make it in the afternoon, but she seemed OK with that, and I agreed to get there as soon as I could after work.

On Thursday I had a good morning down in Exeter. That place still impressed me, and over a working lunch with Stephen Hobbs, he was telling me of the business they had had to turn down from old clients after the takeover by TDF. As I'd predicted to Carole, I was back in my own office by four. 

At about five o'clock Piers came through my office door, "Ta-Raaaa!" He stood just inside my office with his hands held high in triumph.

I was sitting in my comfortable easy chair, reading some papers, and I just looked at him.

"You are looking at the greatest grandfather ever of the greatest grandson ever!"

"Congratulations! What's his name and congratulations to Jeanette and Ester."

He made his face fall, but he couldn't keep the smile off it really, "Edward. Of all bloody names. I ask you? Edward!"

"Edward's not bad. Ed, Teddy, Eddy. No, it's OK. More than OK. What's wrong with it?"

"Longshanks? Edward I? You must have at least seen Braveheart. Now what decent Scot would have his grandson called Edward?"

"I suspect you will survive the scorn and damnation that will fall upon your family."

He smiled, or more accurately, he continued to smile. He sat down opposite me, "Anyway, you wanted me?"

"Only briefly. A word to the wise and all that. How's Peter working these days?"

"OK. He isn't sparkling, he spends most of his time in his office. I've noticed he isn't particularly sociable, but he's OK as far as work is concerned. Why?"

"I just got whiff of a rumour that some of the team think that he's not playing as much of a part as he should be. That's all. I thought I would pass it on."

Piers sighed. "Bugger!" he looked at me, "OK. I'll have a word. It might be partly my fault. I haven't been too sociable to him lately either. I just feel that he possibly brought some of his problems onto himself. But maybe I should give him a little more of my time to kick him into a bit more action at work."

I smiled, mainly to myself, "I'm pretty certain that he brought it on himself."

"Why? What's happened?"

I glanced at my watch and then at my whisky decanter. I knew he followed my eyes. "I think you'd better see me as a fucking bastard, in fact quite a big fucking bastard to tell you all that. And it's a bit early."

Piers considered things, "What are you doing this evening?"

"Nothing, why?"

"Well, Edward has a very dry head, which needs wetting. And if you've been a fucking bastard.... Well, I know this pub in Bath, surprisingly not far from my flat actually, that has the best range of malt whiskies that I know of around here, and haggis is always on their menu. And Jeanette is up in London, cooing and clucking and practicing being a grandmother. So I'm a bachelor..."

"I shouldn't. I'd like to, but I couldn't do that and drive home."

"Get a taxi."

I called out for Carole and as she came into the room I asked, "Do you think you could book me a car to pick me up at my place at about seven thirty say. And take me to the Doc's place in Bath. And then bring me back at ..." I looked at Piers, "...eleven thirty, say. This evening."

"Of course, think it done. Congratulations, Doctor. Isn't he a bit early?"

Piers turned to Carole, "A couple of weeks, but everything's fine. He just felt like surprising us."

I thought: Carole has a database mind for everyone in this company apparently.

Piers left after that, and I went on reading and making notes. 

When Carole was leaving she put her head around my office door, "I'll have the Alka Seltzer ready in the morning."

"I hope it won't be that heavy. But, the way I feel, it might just..."

"It'll do you good. Goodnight. See you in the morning."



Back to Bristol Ch. 12



Piers and myself managed to keep off Molly and Peter all the way to our first drink at Piers' Scottish pub. I had put myself in his hands for drinks, and he had decided to give me a single malt tour of Scotland. He started with Bladnoch, which he told me was the most southerly of all the distilleries. I asked about Auchentoshan, which I'd seen on the shelves when I was buying the whisky for my office, but I was very firmly told that it was a Glasgow distillery, and as Piers was an Edinburgh man he didn't talk about that. 

After we had toasted Edward's entry into this world, and we stood at the bar sipping the light golden liquor, he looked at me, "You'll be pleased to know that I've already had a word with Peter."

I just raised my eyebrows in askance, and waited.

"When I got back to the Abbey he was still there, so I called him in, and basically told him to get his act together. He admitted that he hasn't been working well. I think he wanted a friend really. My guess is he wanted me to take him around to the George, buy him a pint and let him cry on my shoulder."

"But you didn't?"

"I couldn't. I have this feeling that this is exactly what you said month's ago. That it all started with an immoral act, he chatted up a married woman to get her into bed. And with a pint inside me, and in an informal setting, I think I might have told him." He paused and sipped his whisky. "I do feel sorry for the guy in some ways. He's broken hearted, and it shows, but the only way I can deal with it is as his boss."

"So? What is he going to do?"

"I don't know. They have a small cottage somewhere up in Wales. He's going away there this weekend, I suggested that he takes tomorrow off and does some real thinking. So, we'll find out if he's going to resign or get on with his job on Monday."

I thought about that, and sipped my whisky. 

Piers looked at me, "I know you might be pleased to see him go, Chris. But he's bloody good, and I think the company needs him. I hope he comes back and just puts his shoulder to the grindstone."

I smiled, "Actually, so do I." I sighed, "I've got reasons to hate the guy. But I don't want to drive him out of a good job that he does well. Castrate him? Yes. Make him unemployed? No, that doesn't gain anyone anything."

He smiled, "Let's move slightly north, up the west coast I think, and then sit down and get something to eat. I know what I'll be having, but I'll let you choose something other than haggis, if you really must."

He ordered another Scotch, this time from Oban, and we sat down. I happily chose haggis with Piers. I'd eaten it a couple of times before, and I remembered that I quite liked it. Whilst the food was delivered, we talked whisky and food. 

When the plates of food were put in front of us, Piers jumped up and went to the bar, returning quite quickly with two more whiskies. "Onward and upward, the Isle of Skye, Talisker." He sat down and looked at me across the table, "OK. You've had long enough. Why did you think you were a really big fucking bastard?"

I smiled at his choice of words, "Well, actually, Peter was right. Or, at the very least, he was right to think what he does."

Piers went on eating for a moment or two, then he put his knife and fork down and looked at me, "You mean Molly loves you?" He searched my face, and obviously read sincerity, "Shit!" again he paused, "What? When? Did she tell you? What happened?"

So I gave him a précis of Molly's confession. I didn't go down the lousy sex life of Peter and her, I wasn't sure why not, but I glossed over that bit. At the end I just looked at him, and he looked back at me. Silence.

Eventually Piers stood up and went to the bar. He returned with two more glasses, "Dalwhinnie. Just over half way up and in the middle. And these are large ones." He sat down and looked at me, he raised his glass, "After that story I need this. I can't imagine how you feel." He paused to look at me again, "How do you feel about it?"

I drank some whisky and watched myself put my glass down, "If I knew that I probably wouldn't be sitting here."

"Well, how do you feel about her?"

I smiled, "If I knew that I probably wouldn't be sitting here."

He smiled, and I added, "I have a huge amount of different feelings for her. I don't think we can put it all back together, but...I don't know. I've had all sorts of thoughts. Last night I was going down a route of wondering if we could put together some new committed but not committed sort of relationship. You know, a large house, each of us with our private areas, and communal areas for the boys. Some sort of arrangement where the boys come first, but that we can each pursue our own private lives." I looked up at him, and saw the look on his face, "Don't worry. The cold light of dawn put pay to that one. But it just shows, I haven't the faintest idea what to do or what to think."

Piers sipped his drink and was obviously thinking, "OK. Let's start at the beginning. Do you accept the idea that her first time with Peter was just an aberration, a moment of passionate madness? That it is something you could forgive and know that it would never happen again?"

I was considering my answer when Piers added, "And how could she ever marry him? And have a happy .. what four, five years of marriage? It just doesn't make sense."

I breathed a sigh of relief, partly because it let me off answering his first question, and partly because it gave me an excuse to tell him about Susan's hand in this. When I finished doing that, Piers again stood up, "The plot thickens. Time to hit Speyside. Let's start down at Dufftown with a Glenallachie." And he was off to the bar again.

When he returned, he held his glass up to silently toast me, "You've one hell of a set ofs there." And he smiled. I guess I was getting as inebriated as he was, but it was beginning to show.

Whilst I considered our sobriety a more important question came into my mind, "Do you think that it is possible that Peter and Susan, working in collusion, could have brainwashed her to an extent that she drifted into the marriage? Oh, and by the way, I don't think it was that wonderful in the bedroom department, not from what Molly told me."

Piers was thoughtful for a long moment, and sipped his whisky, "Well, I don't know about that, and I'm not sure I want to know. But as for your question, well I don't know the answer to that either. I think I'd have to sit and think about that. But what about my first question, was the initial incident acceptable...no that's the wrong word, was it forgivable?"

"Well I have a theory about that...."

"Well before you give me your theory, let's move slightly north, but still Speyside." And he was off to the bar again. I looked at my glass, and realised it was empty. The whiskies seemed to be going down quicker now.

On his return, he handed me a glass, "They didn't have any Glen Elgin, which I wanted. So this is Linkwood, still from Elgin." He sat down and prompted me, "OK, what's your theory?"

"Well, I don't believe that it was just two innocent friends going out for lunch. That guy knew exactly what he was doing, and he saw his opportunity. Molly doesn't see it that way, but I'd like to bet...." I paused, "I can't prove any of this, but I bet he made sure that she had as much to drink as she would reasonably take without getting suspicious. Then he got her back to his flat. Then the boiling water episode to give him an excuse to get his kit off. Well, it's funny how it was scalding water and not scalding black coffee that would have stained his nice shirt and trousers. I bet it was only warm water as well. And women react to a good male body just as much as we react to a good female body. It's in our basic instincts."

Piers interrupted me, "As male strip shows for hen nights prove on a daily basis."

I smiled, but continued, "Well you can imagine the scene. He's just in his boxers, right up close behind her. She's had a little too much to drink, and is feeling a bit sexy from just seeing him semi-naked. He has his arms around her, to point out things in the view. His cologne smells good, his body is pressing against hers. I bet there was soft music playing, but Molly didn't mention that."

I paused to sip my whisky. Piers looked at me, "Why do you think he managed to get her to drink too much? How much did she have, did she say?"

"She asked for a gin and tonic. He probably turned that into a large one. Was that the kind gesture of a friend who's seen that she's had a bad morning, or a bachelor on the make? OK, then they have wine, only he has water with his, because he's driving. She's relaxed and there's plenty of wine in the bottle, because he's carefully not drinking his fair share. Then he pushes for a liqueur, Grappa apparently, because neither of them have ever tried it. But he doesn't like it and he palms his off onto her. So, she's not drunk and incapable, but she's had a fair amount, specially as she's not used to drinking at lunchtime."

I looked up at Piers. He was deep in thought. Eventually, he realised that I was looking at him, "Drink up. We'll go a little further north, Glenmorangie I think. Then we'll go back to my place for some coffee and the crowning glory of the evening. I have a bottle of thirty year old Highland Park back there, all the way from the Orkneys. A glass of that will round off the evening nicely."

"OK. But what do you think of my theory? You know him a lot better than I do."

"I'm thinking about it. But I'm thinking about whisky more. Come on, Glenmorangie to toast Edward's head one more time. I'm a grandfather. Isn't that great? Except that I'm married to a grandmother now."

Once we were back at his flat, and he'd made two steaming mugs of the most wonderful, rich dark black coffee. And had poured, with extreme reverence, two glasses of this Orkney's whisky, the name of which I'd already forgotten, we sat in chairs, either side of the fireplace and just looked at each other. The whisky was catching up with us. 

I noticed that drinking seemed to have made Piers very quiet and thoughtful, but I hadn't a lot to say. Then he looked at me, "I remember recruiting Peter. I think I told you, I was Deputy in those days. It was the last year that we did a graduate intake in the summer. After that we've always just recruited individuals as we've needed them. I think there were seven in Peter's year. He had his masters, some only had first degrees, but they were a good crowd."

I wondered where this slightly drunken reminiscing was leading. But I couldn't be bothered to ask. 

And Piers continued, "Jeanette and myself took them all out on about their third evening. To help them get to know each other, you know the sort of thing. Well we took them down to the Centre, an Italian about a hundred yards up from the Hippodrome, I don't think it's there anymore. Anyway, at the end of the meal, I remember Peter beginning to wax lyrical about the wonders of Grappa. He insisted that he bought everyone a glass of it. Some didn't like it, and I think he must have sunk three or four glasses of the stuff."

There was a long, pregnant pause, as that news sunk in. In the end, I spoke, "He's good. He's very good. The Bastard. The Fucking Bastard."

Piers looked at me, "Yes, he was a fucking bastard." He paused and a look of concern passed over his face, "Drink your coffee, Chris, and ride with it. Don't do anything silly. If it's any consolation, he's paying for it now. I saw him this afternoon, he's totally broken. Justice has been served. He's suffering more than you kicking his balls to pulp would ever do."

"I'm very glad to hear it." I looked at my watch, and then back at Piers. I felt that everything that was going to be said tonight had been said. "My taxi is probably waiting downstairs. Can we talk some more when I'm beginning to get my head around all this. Just talking helps."

He smiled, "Of course. There's several hundred more distilleries to go."

The next morning, Carole served my first coffee with two aspirin sitting on the saucer. 

I smiled, "Can't take them yet. I took Alka Seltzer before I left home."

"Did you come to any solution, or learn anything new?" She asked.

"Not really. Except that we came to pretty conclusive proof that Peter Davies set all out to seduce her that first afternoon. It is a pity he succeeded. But you can't rewrite history."

"So, don't try. The future is the only thing you've got to worry about."

That curt advice made me watch Carole as she left my office.

I had a very busy day, all fairly boring, except for having to do my introductory chat for a new sales video we were producing, which was quite interesting and fun.

I got to Ralph and Susan's just before six thirty, to find that they had held up having anything to eat until I arrived. It was just Mum and Len, Ralph, Molly, Ben and Jamie of course. It was agreed that Jamie could open his present from Mum, just so that she could see him open it. It was a true Australian present of a boomerang and a sweatshirt with the slogan written upside down on the front, which amused a nine year old fantastically.

I wanted to ask Molly how the visit to the solicitor had gone. But we were never alone long enough to have a private conversation. A couple of times the grown-ups discreetly withdrew, but as soon as they did, either Jamie or Ben would come bouncing into the room. There was a good side to not being able to talk, I could tell from Molly's eyes, that she was bursting to ask me if I'd decided anything about the future. But, thank Goodness, she never got a chance.

Jamie and Ben were outside, trying to throw the boomerang, when Ralph suggested a birthday photo for Mum to take home. So we gathered in the garden. Ralph took plenty of photo's of Mum with Jamie, and with Jamie and Ben, and with Len. Then she asked for one of Jamie and Ben with myself and Molly.

So we grouped together as a foursome, Molly and myself standing behind the two boys. And just before Ralph pressed the shutter, Molly linked her arm in mine. My reaction was immediate, I just stood aside, disentangling from her. It wasn't a planned or reasoned reaction, it came from within me. How dare she, I haven't agreed to anything, and she certainly has no right to put her arm around mine.

Molly looked at me, very hurt, her eyes filling with tears. And then she resumed her pose and I came back and Ralph took the picture. As soon as he was done, Molly almost ran as she went indoors.

Mum looked at me, "How could you? Go and say you're sorry." 

Now I was staring at Mum, and feeling hurt, but all she did was reiterate her view, "Go on. I expect she's gone upstairs to the bedroom."

Have a flaming row with Mum? Or walk out completely? Or at least go and explain myself to Molly? I chose that last option.

I found her, quietly wiping her eyes, sitting on the bed in the small bedroom. 

I went and sat beside her, "I'm sorry I reacted that way."

She looked at me, "Doesn't it mean anything to you that I love you? I love you, Chris, and you treat me as if I'm a leper."

"That's unfair. I just don't know what to do. Mum has made it perfectly plain that I'm meant to immediately start planning a June wedding. You look at me with big doe eyes, desperate for me to say something. Len agrees with Mum, and makes no effort to hide it. Your Dad is probably the most understanding, but he wouldn't have arranged all this without knowing what he wants. And it's my life. I've had to live it, all by myself for nearly five years now, and I'll make decisions about what I'll do, not a bunch of well-meaning relatives."

"All I did was link arms."

"I know. But it seemed like you were making a claim."

"So, a few weeks ago it was alright to link arms with you as we walked down King Street together, before I told you that I love you. But now it's a terrible sin. Is that it?"

"Yes. There were no life long implications when you did it before. Now it is a claim for the future. So Yes."

I could feel my anger rising. As I'd voiced my problem, it became more understandable and reasonable to me. Why couldn't she see that?

"It was just for a photograph."

"Just like screwing Peter in his flat was just for the afternoon. But you can't say sorry, Oh No. You can't tell me that he means nothing to you, Oh No. He's important to you and you have deep feelings for him." By now I was standing and facing her directly, but my tirade just continued, and my voice rose in volume to match. "And you can't come and see me and explain. No, you'd rather let me divorce you so that you can marry him. But when that doesn't work out, well you can say: Oops Chris, I'm sorry. Really I've loved you all along. So now, my darling Chris, you can take me in your arms and whisk me off into the sunset. Well, I'll tell you what's wrong with it..."

When I started, she looked hurt. Now she looked horrified and was crying.

Not that that stopped me, "What's wrong with it is that I've spent five years out there, in the big nasty wide world. You let me go there, remember? And I've learnt that I come first in my life. I don't have to do what you want me to do. I don't have to do what Mum wants me to do. I'll make up my own mind about my life, thank you. So, you can stop linking your arm in mine until I tell you that I want it there, if I ever do. OK?"

Eventually, as the silence became pervasive, she looked up at me. I looked down on her.

She spoke first, "I'm sorry. I know I have no right. I gave that up, and I was so wrong to do that. And I'm so sorry that I did......"

My anger subsided and I sat down again, but leaving us far enough apart to be clear that this wasn't kiss and make-up.

"I'm sorry, too. I don't mean to shout at you. And, to be honest, it isn't that you put your arm in mine. It really isn't. It's just that everyone seems to know what to do for the best about my life, except for me. I really would like to come to my own conclusions."

Again there was a long pause, then very quietly she asked, "Do I stand any chance?"

"I don't know. For everything I seem to think of, there seems to be an equal and opposite reason why not. If only I could know in my heart what I wanted to do, then I think I could find the reasons why from the story. I think I could justify anything. It seems to be a sort of pick 'n mix. I'm sorry, Molly. You said you'd give me time. I don't know how long I'll need, but I'm not ready yet. I'm not ready to do anything, and I'm not ready to say anything."

Again there was a long pause until I asked, "What did the solicitor say?"

"She remembered me and said: It took me five years to come to my senses. Apparently she knew when we were divorcing that I didn't really want it to happen. I do remember her suggesting once that I oppose it, but I didn't think I had any right to." She paused and half smiled, "Anyway, she's going to write to Peter, very gently, asking what he was going to do. It will be a lot easier if he divorces me. If I divorce him, well my reasons are a lot weaker, and he might oppose it. So we want to encourage him to lead the way. I guess he'll get the letter tomorrow or Monday."

I told her, "He's gone away for the weekend." 

She looked at me, questioningly. So I explained, "Piers told me. I'm entitled to know what my staff are doing." 

"Sorry. Of course."

Again there was a long silence. Until I decided, "If you're OK, then I think I'll go. Are you OK?"

She looked at me, very sadly, and she sounded sad in her voice, "I'll be fine."

"I'll see the boys on my way out. Is it OK if I have them sometime over the weekend?"

"Of course. How about Sunday from my house?"

"OK. Let's say at noon, and I'll give them lunch."

She nodded, and I left the room quietly. I stood on the landing and composed myself before I went downstairs.




Back to Bristol Ch. 12



I found everybody in the sitting room. Five pairs of eyes turned to look at me as I came in. Some looked hurt, others were asking questions. I realised that Ben and Jamie both looked hurt. I went over to them and sat down on the floor with them, where they were playing Jenga with Ralph and Len. 

I put my arms around both of them, "Mummy will be down in a minute."

Ben looked at me with very hurt but accusing eyes, "You were shouting at her, Daddy." 

"Could you hear me? I'm sorry. Mummy said something that upset me, and it was only for a moment."

Jamie looked at me, slightly less hurt, "We couldn't hear what you were saying, but we heard your voice."

I smiled, I hoped I looked reassuring, "Well, don't worry. Mummy's OK, and she'll be down in a minute."

I looked around at the adults. Len seemed neutral, I couldn't work out what Ralph was thinking, but I got the impression I hadn't excused myself with Mum, she was looking at me with half closed eyes, staring intently.

I kissed both Ben and Jamie. "I'll take you to lunch on Sunday. You can think up what you'd like to do on Sunday afternoon, Jamie. Any special birthday treat you like. Now I'm going to go. I've already said goodbye to Mummy." 

I stood up, I looked at Ralph, "Thanks for the hospitality, Ralph. I'll talk to you soon."

I looked round at Mum and Len, I went over and kissed Mum, very aware that she still hadn't said a word. "I doubt whether I'll see you again until after you get back from seeing Brian and your holiday in Scotland. So, do have a good time." I kissed her cheek again and headed for my car.

As I got to the front door, I realised that Mum was following me. Len was trailing behind her. I looked at her.

"Go on, out to your car. We can talk outside."

I went out and pulled my car door open, then I turned to Mum. "Don't say it Mum. Don't let's part on a row. Just give Brian my love, and Morag and the children of course, and I'll see you in a couple of weeks." And I kissed her on the cheek for the third time.

I was quite hopeful that she wasn't going to say anything, I was wrong.

"How could you? How could you shout at her? She's doing her best to hold it together. She's made a mess of her life, and now she's turned to the man she loves, the father of her children, and you shout at her and walk away. How could you?"

"I shouted at a woman who was unfaithful to me, who walked away from me, and who's been married to her lover for the last four years. And if you have a problem with that Mum, then you need your head examined."

We stared at each other in a sort of stand-off. I broke the spell to get into my car, and I closed the door and lowered the window. She was still watching me, intently, but I thought with a little doubt in her eyes. Len was still hovering just behind her. Then Ralph came out and looked at me.

Ralph said, "Before you go, Chris, I'd like a word." He looked at Mum.

It was Len who got the message. He took hold of Mum's arm, "Come on Dear. Let's go in and see the boys." And he led her indoors.

As she went through the front door, Ralph turned back to me, "I just wanted to say that I hadn't realised how hard this must be to you, Chris. I once said that I thought Molly was going to ask you to do the hardest thing you'll ever have to do. I thought that that was to try and forgive her. To try to build something new with her."

"I'm sorry, Ralph. I know that's what you want. It's what Mum wants. But...."

"But what I didn't think about is just how hard it must be for you to accept that any of that is even a possibility. I know that when we talked I never heard a word of criticism or recrimination against Molly. That gave me hope. I suppose its part of the reason I engineered all this. But, I didn't listen to everything. I've only just begun to realise you never said a word of anything but that it was all over. However much you had regrets, you never wished to change things. You very firmly accepted that she was gone, that she loved Peter more than you and that was that. I guess it's how you coped. It must be almost impossible to just change your thinking, to understand the options you have."

I looked at him, grateful for his understanding. But I could still feel my disappointment, hurt and anger with Mum coursing through me. "Don't tell me, Ralph. Tell them."

I put the car into reverse and slipped off his drive.

I went home to feeling pretty unsettled all that evening, and only managed a few hours of troubled sleep.

But on the Saturday I was feeling a little more cheerful, when in the middle of the morning my doorbell buzzed, and when I opened it, there stood Mum.

"Mum, I thought you were off to Newcastle to see Brian this morning."

"We are. Ralph is giving us a lift to the airport, and he and Len are downstairs. But I couldn't go without seeing you."

"Then you'd better come in."

We stood facing each other in the living room. She looked at me and just said, "Sorry."

I waited and she went on, "I'm sorry, Chris. Ralph talked last night about some of the conversations you and he had had in the last few weeks. I wasn't here when you and Molly broke up, I heard you on the phone when we talked, but I could never see your face or look into your eyes. I don't think I ever realised how hurt you were. I guess you still are."

I sighed, "Yes I was hurt. Suddenly, out of the blue, I'm told that I'm not wanted. That the life I'd given her wasn't good enough. I think part of my life ended then. Now I'm told it was all a mistake."

I looked at her, there were tears in her eyes, and she stepped up to me and hugged me.

"I know, Chris. I realise now. And I'm sorry. I thought that with a little nagging from an interfering mother, you could just pick up the pieces, and give Jamie and Ben their family back. It isn't that easy, I realise that now."

"Oh, Mum. I don't know what to do. I loved my life, my family back then. And of course I want Jamie and Ben to have a loving stable family around them. But I don't know that I can put it back together with Molly, I don't know that I even want to. If she screwed up, well that's her problem, and she can't expect me to put it right, not after five years of leaving me with all those hurts, doubts, insecurities. All those sleepless nights in miserable rented flats, drinking too much and picking up the wrong sort of girls. I can't just forget all that. It wouldn't work for me, and it certainly wouldn't give Jamie and Ben the family they deserve."

"Why not sit down and talk to her? At least try...."

"I just don't think there is any point. It seems cowardly and callous to just walk away, but maybe that would be for the best."

"I don't think you're a coward, and I certainly don't think you're callous. But I do think you're scared, and I don't know what I can do give you the strength...."

"It's not a matter of strength, Mum. What is the point of giving Molly hope, of giving Jamie and Ben hope, when it's never going to work? I just don't know how to try, I don't know if it's worth trying...."

"Do you still love her, even a little bit?"

"I don't even know the answer to that. I've trained myself for nearly five years not to think of her in that way. I just couldn't allow myself to do so. I had to move on, I had to build myself a new life, a different way of thinking. I've always known that I did love her, and that I loved the life we had. But memories of what we once had are no good for the future....I just don't know. And everyone seems to be waiting for me to announce some decision, and I have no idea what my decision is, or even what it's meant to be. I don't even know what is right anymore."

"Then do nothing until you do know. And the rest of us will just have to wait."

I looked at her, her eyes were softer and kinder than they'd been for the whole of this trip. Suddenly I was a little boy looking into my mummy's eyes. I kissed her on the forehead. "You ought to go. Len and Ralph are waiting...."

"Let them wait. We'll all wait. I'm not leaving here until I know you'll be alright."

I kissed her again and sighed, "Would you like a coffee? I could take Len and Ralph a mug each if I make some."

"No thank you. But I might like a glass of water. I'm not used to all this maternal emotion, I'm a bit out of practice." She said as she wiped her eyes on a little lace edged handkerchief.

When I came back from the kitchen with a glass of water she was sitting on the sofa. She looked up and took the glass, "I'm very proud of my sons. Of both you and Brian. Who would have thought that a widow of a railwayman could bring up a university lecturer, maybe a professor soon, and a businessman who is a managing director." She smiled, "But you are still my boys. And I hope you still remember some of the things I taught you. About always making sure you do the right thing?"

I sat down in a chair opposite her, "I hope so, Mum. I try to do the right thing most of the time."

"Well, promise me something. I'll wait, we'll all wait as long as you like. And don't worry about whether what you do is callous or kind, cowardly or brave. Just promise me that you'll be able to look me in the eye and say you did the right thing. Right for you and right for Jamie and Ben. And if it can be right for Molly, well that'd be a bonus."

I smiled, "Mum, that's exactly what I want to do. I just haven't the faintest idea what it is."

"Well if you want to talk about it, you've got me and Len and Ralph and I'm sure lots of others. You could come up to Newcastle and talk to Brian if you wanted to. And you could always talk to Molly, she isn't stupid, she'll understand."

We just sat and looked at each other in silence, until Mum said, "I must go....." and two minutes later she was gone.

I made myself a mug of coffee, and I felt relaxed and pleased. I knew that, given time, I would come to a good solution, and I felt that the pressure was off. Well, off from everybody except Molly. I knew she was willing me to try and build some relationship with her with every breath she took.

In the afternoon I traipsed the shops, looking for something to buy Jamie. Once upon a time, I used to be able to chat to Molly in the evening about the boys and what they might want as a present, and then she'd go and actually buy the present from both of us. Then there was my period of travelling and living abroad, when I could rely on Internet shopping. Now I have to do it all for myself. 

Standing in a bookshop I had the idea of giving him some Harry Potter books, surely he's just about coming to the right age. But, I don't know if he has any already, or whether he's read any. I know that I have to phone Molly, but I'm scared of letting the conversation wander. Eventually I made the call, and I'm successful in keeping it purposeful and to the point. And the present problem is solved. Jamie's getting all the Harry Potter books, in hardback. But then I went and bought an Ipod for him, just in case the books didn't go down too well.

Back at my flat I gift wrapped the presents, and I felt good. I was relaxed about Molly, the right answer would come to me in time. And I felt good about Mum and the rest of them, they could just wait. I decided to go out for the evening and enjoy myself. I knew what I really wanted, and that was to get laid. Healthy, uncomplicated, straight sex, and plenty of it.

I first tried one of the bars near me and the University. The scenery was good, there were plenty of twenty year old girls around, some of them very attractive. There was one group of four sitting at a table in the pub and all making sideway glances at me as I sat at the bar. A couple of them gave me surreptitious smiles when I caught them watching me. I guess I stood a fair chance of picking one of them up, I was a decent looking guy, dressed quiet expensively, and with a nice car and a nice flat just up the road. I couple of years ago, pre-Helene, I wouldn't have hesitated. In fact I had several memories of doing just that. But now, the better behaved me felt it was wrong. It would be cradle snatching, and using them for my own selfish purposes.  

What I wanted was a slightly more mature woman, but not too mature, who knew the rules of the game. That this was to be a healthy one night stand, with cheerful goodbyes in the morning. So, when I finished my beer I moved on.

I wondered where there was a nightspot for the single thirty somethings, there must be one in a city of this size; I just didn't know where it was. So, I thought of hailing a taxi, and relying on the driver to know, but I couldn't see a taxi. I walked down the road, and as I was approaching the Centre, I realised that I'd be passing the Marriott Royal Hotel very soon, and they were sure to have a taxi rank. But then I thought: a hotel! That's what I need, the perfect place to find a lonely business woman looking for company. And I was good at picking up women in hotel bars, I'd had plenty of practice in my bad years. But not the Royal, it's too classy, and I might become known there as MD of Franks. So, I walked on until I found what I was looking for, the non-descript good class business hotel. And eventually I found one. I couldn't tell you which chain, they all look the same, and sometimes the actual building changes from one chain to the next in some property shuffle without anyone noticing. 

I sat at the bar and looked around. It wasn't particularly crowded, but I guess these hotels do there trade mid-week with business visitors. It's why they offer cheap weekends to private visitors, because they can't fill the rooms with full price company expensed clients. There were three couples scattered around the tables. And a large mixed group, I would guess some family reunion. There was one woman sitting by herself, but she was seriously intent on reading a whole load of business papers spread out in front of her. At a couple of tables there were businessmen drinking and talking seriously, and about four guys like me, drinking at the bar. And one very attractive girl, late twenties and dressed very attractively. She was sitting at a table by herself, and she seemed to be watching the room. Maybe she was waiting for someone, maybe she was a professional working the bar. I sipped my drink and watched her. 

She was perfect. The clothes were expensive, but just slightly too sexy. The make up was perfection. The hair stylish and beautifully cut, and had a habit of falling across her face in a very attractive way. She was sipping a glass of mineral water or maybe a vodka and tonic. It had a slice of lemon, and was clear and bubbly. 

She was definitely checking out the guys, including me. She seemed to like what she saw and gave me a half smile. I came to the conclusion she was a professional, not that it worried me. I'd paid for it before, and there was no reason why I couldn't pay for it again. 

She checked her watch and then looked up at me. She smiled again and stood up and started walking towards me. She definitely was a professional. Amateur innocent girls don't approach another man when there date doesn't turn up on time. I half turned to await her arrival. Then this red faced man in his mid-forties suddenly cut between us. I heard him say, "Fiona? I'm sorry I'm a bit late. I had trouble getting away." And he sort of held her proffered hand, but leant in to kiss her on the cheek.

She looked at me, and the look said it all: Sorry, but business is business. I silently toasted her with my glass as he led her away. So close and yet so far.

I looked around the room, just to see if anyone else had seen that little drama unfold. No one seemed to. The lone business woman was steeped in reading her papers. Others just carried on drinking and talking. I recognised the collection of papers she was reading. There were the published accounts of some company. A set of brochures in the colours of the rainbow. Some computer print-outs that looked like spreadsheet prints, a file of correspondence and a very different document, in a different style and binding. My guess was that was the proposal or terms of reference or quote for an assignment. As I was looking at this collection I didn't notice she was looking at me. As I raised my sight, our eyes met.

"Looks like the briefing papers for a new assignment." I said with a smile.

She was older than me by a couple of years, maybe more if she'd looked after herself. Her face had a hardness to it, but she was attractive enough, just not my type.

She smiled back, "I start on Monday. Huddersfield, I'm driving up tomorrow."

"That's a bit cruel. Keeping you here for the weekend, and not letting you go home for some respite before you start. Would you like a drink, by the way?" Talking to her was easier than drinking alone.

"Thank you. A glass of dry white, please. My name's Angie."

I stood up and went over and shook her hand. "And I'm Chris." I turned back to the bar and got her the wine.

We got chatting, it turned out that she was a management consultant who had been on assignment in Bristol for the month. I asked why she hadn't gone home for the weekend, and it seemed that she was divorced with one grown up daughter away at university, so there was no one to go home for. As she said, "I've been here for four weeks, and I've worked the last two weekends, so I thought it would be nicer to see Bristol for a day and travel up north tomorrow, rather than make a fleeting visit to an empty flat in London."

I looked at some of her papers for the new assignment. The company name meant nothing to me, they were into agricultural land management. But I did notice that they had too much investment in plant on which they were getting an inadequate return. I think she was quite impressed by that.

We had another drink each, and then I asked her if she'd eaten. No she hadn't, and nor had I, so I invited her to go out for a meal, "Nothing heavy. A Chinese or Indian or something?"

"I saw a Thai restaurant down the road that looked nice." Was her acceptance.

As we ate we went on talking. She told me that her daughter was not the result of her marriage, but of a relationship when she was much younger. I looked at her, I think my original estimate was about right, late thirties. 

She did wonder if the lack of children in the marriage had been part of its downfall. Apparently she'd been divorced a couple of years. She said she wasn't too surprised at the break up, it had been pretty rough for the last couple of years. And although the final straw had been discovering that he was having an affair, she thought that it was probably the result of a failed marriage rather than the cause of it.

I told her I had been divorced for four years, so I had some idea what she was going through.

She looked thoughtful for a moment, "It's odd. I'm not surprised we were divorced, but it still totally destroyed me. I was so angry, not at him, but at myself. I'd hung in there, hoping that things would get better, but he'd realised there was no future and had looked after himself. I was a fool."

"I think at some level we always blame ourselves. I know I did, although I didn't know what I'd done wrong. How were you in the months afterwards?"

She looked at me, weighing up her possible answers, "I made a total fool of myself. I didn't realise it at the time, but I became the easiest girl in the company. Oh, they had to buy me a dinner, or better still dinner and theatre, but they were onto a dead cert as to how the evening would end. All sorts, young, old, married or single. I just craved wanting to be wanted."

"I know the feeling. In my way I was much the same." I said, thinking back to my bad years.

She sipped her wine, thoughtfully, "Well, I slowly began to realise that I was the subject of company gossip, and not very flattering gossip at that. So, I changed my job, became a consultant and live my life on the move. It's shallow and unsatisfactory, but it'll do for the time being."




Back to Bristol Ch. 12



Again, I smiled, "I went through that phase too. Are you in control now?"

"Oh Yes. Total control. £250 per night, I never pay more than £500, but I have to pay for dinner on top of course. Does that shock you? That I pay for sex."

"No. I've done it myself. It's an easy, manageable solution." I paused, "In fact, for the first time in a couple of years, I was just about to pay for it tonight. Did you see the hooker in the bar just now?"

"Was she a hooker?" She shrugged, "I guess she could have been."

"I'm pretty sure she was. But her client turned up just in time, just before I negotiated my own deal. Do you think I would have got it cheap as a late booking?"

She laughed, then she looked appraisingly "So you're feeling horny, are you?"

I waited, suddenly having to decide if I liked where this turn of the conversation could be leading.

She continued, "We could both save some money tonight."

I laughed, and thought: What the Hell....? "And management consultants, or even ex-consultants, should stick together, help each other out in a time of need, professional courtesy and all that..."

We both laughed and knew what was going to happen, and more important, knew the rules of the game.

We went back to her hotel. It all seemed a bit odd in some ways. There was this clinical commitment that we were going back for sex, just like with a hooker. Only she wasn't a hooker, she was a bright intelligent lady. But it was also that she was older than me, albeit only by a few years, but in all my travels I'd never made it with an older woman. Well, I was going to that night.

Around ten o'clock on Sunday morning I could be seen leaving the hotel, freshly showered but unshaven. And I felt great. The sex with Angie had been exactly what I needed, hot sweaty, hard, straight sex. Early on she told me that she didn't do oral, so I couldn't see any reason why I should either. And as she didn't do oral I didn't bother to ask or hint about anal. So it was just straight sex, twice last night and two more times this morning. I actually ran out of condoms, but I should have known, Angie had one in her toilet bag.

As I walked up the road to my flat I felt relaxed. I'm sure other people noticed me smiling at them and saying "Good Morning" to them all. Every ounce of sexual tension was gone. And so was all my other frustration and fear about Molly. I knew, I just knew, that the right answer would come to me.

I filled my morning with nothing more strenuous than a light breakfast with gallons of coffee, and a thorough reading of the Sunday paper. And at 11:59 I was knocking at Molly's door.

She answered the door with a smile, and got a very cheerful Hello from me.

"Come in for a minute, they are just getting themselves ready."

I strolled through to their kitchen, whilst she went upstairs to chase up the boys. She found me looking at the view from their kitchen window, and whistling cheerfully.

"You sound cheerful."

"I am. Life is pretty good, and it's a lovely day, and I'm just relaxed and enjoying it."

She half laughed, "Can I have some of whatever you're on, I could do with it."

I looked at her and she did look tired and had a weariness about her. There was a time when I would have given her a hug and a kiss and cheerfully patted her bottom and told her that I loved her and that whatever the problem was, it would pass. But, not this morning. 

Instead, I just said, "I've come to the conclusion that things will work out. I don't know how, or even when, but they'll sort themselves out. We've got plenty of time, and in the meantime you must just get yourself divorced from Peter. Putting right that wrong is totally within your power."

"That's important to you, isn't it? To me it's just a bit of paper work. A process of getting the right ticks in the right boxes. The future is far more important than the past."

Just then two boys came bursting into the room, and the conversation was dropped.

We said our farewells, and I got them into the car. Over lunch I asked Jamie what he wanted to do for the afternoon, and I was told, "Go to the Zoo."

So, off to Bristol Zoo we went. I think we all had a thoroughly good time, but in the middle of the afternoon, whilst we stopped for a drink, Jamie announced that "This isn't the zoo I meant."

"Well, it's the only zoo that Bristol's got. Sorry about that. Which zoo did you mean?"

"Well, a long time ago, Peter won some tickets to go to a big zoo. Do you remember, Ben?" Ben shook his head, and Jamie went on, "We drove through fields with lions and giraffes and things in. And we went on a boat where they fed the seals." He turned to his brother, "You must remember, Ben. It was before Mummy and Peter were married."

Ben shook his head. "I remember Mummy getting married, but I don't remember that."

I felt an emptiness in my stomach. Ben may not be able to remember it; I wasn't sure I wanted to know about it. I smiled and said, "I'll ask Mummy."

When we got back to Molly's, she was waiting for us. The boys ran in, with Jamie asking "What's for tea?"

I looked at Molly, "Don't let them kid you. They've just eaten burgers and fries about half and hour ago."

She smiled, "Well, it sounds as if you all had a good time. Since you've been back in Bristol and have been taking them out, I'm sure their intake of burgers and pizzas has gone up. I should start warning you about keeping them on a healthy diet."

"It won't do them too much harm to eat a burger once in a while. But, I agree with you and I will watch it. Have you got a couple of minutes?"

"Sure." She said, and opened the door and led the way to the kitchen.

"It's just that I thought I might take the boys and you out to dinner on Tuesday, on Jamie's birthday. Nothing grand, just some family type restaurant somewhere." I looked at her and smiled, "With salad on the menu."

"I'm not that bad. And it would be lovely. But it is a school night, so they can't be late."

"Well, if I'm here to pick you up at six, say?"

"That would be fine." Suddenly her eyes misted over, "It'll be nice to go out as a family. Thank you."

"You said I was in a good mood, and I just thought of it."

She half smiled, "What did you do last night? It's just that the only time I ever knew you that relaxed on an ordinary Sunday, with you whistling especially, was if on the Saturday night..."

She glanced at me, and maybe I looked a bit guilty. I tried covering myself, "What?"

She looked away, "Nothing. It doesn't matter..."

I kissed her on the cheek, and left her, deliberately whistling.



Back to Bristol Ch. 13



I arrived at my office feeling very bright and cheerful on the Monday morning. But there, waiting for me was Peter Davies. My heart sank, I didn't want to start my week with an unseemly macho row.

He stood up as I arrived; I noted Carole hadn't arrived yet. 

"Peter Davies! I guess you are waiting for me." I didn't stop, I kept walking to my office.

He followed me. As I turned and looked at him I had to admit to myself that he really is a handsome man, damn him. He also looked very fit and well, I was hoping that at least he'd look pale, tired and worried. Instead he looked as if he'd been out in the fresh air all weekend.

He smiled, "I came here first, before I go in to the Abbey and see Piers and tell him that I'm back at work with a completely new attitude. I wanted you to know."

I looked at him, "I'm glad to hear it."

"Well, I did a lot of thinking over the weekend. I realised that it is no good living with what has happened in the past, I've got to accept the challenge of the future."

That sounded hopeful, "Good. Well I know you are good at your job, so you've still got a great career in front of you."

He smiled, "I know that. I'll be talking to Piers about that. I rather let things slip recently, and I need to catch up with him. But it's part of the reason I came to see you, to apologise and promise that I'm back at work, full time and committed." He paused and looked at me, I felt he was hesitating before he said something else, "I assume you've talked to Molly?"

I froze inside, "Yes. I have."

His eyes were searching my face, "And nothing's changed?"

"No. She was very upset. She's been through quite a lot."

He smiled again, "Well, it's time for forgiveness, and for everyone to move forward. What happened in the past is in the past. I realise that we can't go on with a marriage that is always looking over its shoulder at what happened, and the bits we regret."

I was beginning to believe that he had accepted things. Thank God for that. 

He held out his hand, and I surprised myself by taking it and shaking it. I even wished him, "Best of luck."

I watched him leave. Fucking Hell! Life is full of surprises!

I got on with my work, and ten minutes later Carole was delivering a cup of coffee to my desk.

"I met Peter Davies as I was coming in. Did he come and see you?" She asked, trying to keep it casual, but with a keen edge to her voice.

I leant back and smiled, "Another exciting instalment in your soap opera. He came to tell me that he's going to forgive everybody, what for I'm not quite sure, but then he's going to get on with his life."

"Well, well. I thought he had a spring in his step. I remarked on it, and he said it was the sea air over the weekend. Well, I guess it's a good thing. The best thing he could do really."

"Yes it is." I agreed, "Anyway how was your weekend?"

"Quiet, but good. How about yours?" 

I smiled, "It started badly. Got worse. But then it sort of started going a lot better, and yesterday was great."

"Any other news?"

"If you mean did I decide anything, No. But I've decided that I'm going to take as long as I need to decide anything."

She sat down and looked at me, "Can I say something?"

I shrugged and smiled, "You might as well; everyone else has."

"Well, I was thinking over the weekend about what your mother and step-father said. And I came to the conclusion they were wrong. You don't have a duty to patch something up with Molly, irrespective of how you feel."

I smiled, but she continued, "But it is your duty to try."

Suddenly I wasn't smiling, "I was wrong. No, you can't have your say."

She smiled, "Could you look your sons in the eyes and say: When I had a chance to put the family back together, a chance to give you the sort of home and life that you need to grow up, loved and supported, I walked away?"

"Surely, it's better to walk away than to give them hope and then fail?"

"Do you respect people who walk away from opportunity without even trying?"

I sighed, "OK. Point made." I half smiled, "Get the diary and let's talk about the week...."

My morning passed quite well. I was very busy, and that's the way I liked it. I had lunch in the dining room with Stephen Hobbs, who was up from Exeter, and Annette Morgan. From my point of view, this was so that I could watch the dynamics between them. After lunch I walked upstairs to my office with Stephen, as we were both going to my first Heads of Departments meeting, that I hoped would effectively supersede the Board in everything except rubber stamping and legal necessities. 

I was just standing in my office with Stephen, chatting about nothing in particular, and really waiting for everybody else to assemble, when Piers McBaine came in.

He looked troubled, "Ah! Chris. I was wondering if I might have a word....."

I looked at Stephen, "If you could give me a minute please, Stephen..." Both Piers and myself watched him leave and close the door behind him. 

When he'd gone I turned to Piers and smiled, "I had Peter Davies come to see me this morning, which was a bit of a worrying surprise. But it turns out that he's going to get on with his career and his life, and forgive and forget. Which is a bit of an anti-climax, but probably a good thing."

Piers still looked worried, "He told me he'd seen you. He came to see me first thing, as soon as he got in. And he said to me that he was now really focussed on his work, and that he was going to let go of the past. He even said it was a matter of acceptance and forgiveness, and not a moral issue, which I assumed was a dig at me about some of the things I'd said to him."

"Well?" 

"Well, I think we both misunderstood him. Rather like you, I was delighted that he was turning over a new leaf. And then, just before I came over here, I thought I'd put my head round his door. I wanted to tell him that I would see him when I got back from this meeting. I've got a load of things that I should hand over to him, that I've protected him from in the last couple of weeks, but he can have them all on his plate if he's back, firing on all cylinders."

"OK. And this concerns me, how?"

"Because he said he was going to leave dead on time this afternoon, maybe even a bit early. He's got to get to the florist to pick up a special bouquet of sweet peas that he's ordered. And then he's got to get home and change. He's arranged a babysitter, and he's booked a table at their special restaurant down in King Street, and he's going to talk to Molly, forgive her everything and put the past into the past, and put his marriage back on track."

I gave a single word response, "Fuck!"

Piers smiled, relieved that he'd told me, "I think we both misunderstood him, don't you?"

I smiled, "I think we might." I was deep in thought.

Piers stood, watching me for a while, then asked "Are you going to phone Molly and warn her?"

I looked his way, "That's precisely what I'm thinking about. But No, I don't think I am. He's her husband. It's up to her to tell him that it's all over. And if she doesn't, and decides to go out dining with him, well I'll know where I stand, won't I?"

"Are you sure?" Piers asked, and looked very doubtful.

"Yes. One of the bits that I don't understand, that I'm having great difficulty with, is the relationship between Molly and Peter. OK, they got it together one afternoon, that's wrong, and I'm not sure I can forgive her that bit. But after that, if she never loved him, why did she go on to marry him? And if she can't get rid of him now, well....I don't know."

Just then Carole came in, "They're all in the Boardroom waiting for you. Or do you want them in here?"

"No, there aren't enough seats in here. And I want you there to keep minutes." I looked round at Piers, "Come on. I'm relying on you to keep this meeting effective. It's not a waffle shop, it's to take decisions."

I had a good afternoon, and at the end of it I was sitting at my desk, wondering if I'd done the right thing in not warning Molly. I was deep in those thoughts when I sensed that there was someone in the room. I looked around, it was Myra.

I smiled, "Hello, stranger. I haven't seen you for days."

She came and sat at my desk, "I was in London for a couple of days last week, and one day in Exeter. But I did try to catch you on Friday evening, but you'd gone."

"Sorry. I had to get to a little party for Jamie's birthday."

"Well...? Spill."

I realised that the last time I'd seen Myra it was to announce that Molly loved me, and I hadn't told her anything else.

Then a thought occurred to me, "What are you doing this evening?"

She looked suspicious, "Nothing. But should I be washing my hair or something? I've got a boyfriend you know."

"It's purely platonic, I assure you. No, it's just that you want to know my story. I need to eat, and I think I'd like some company this evening. So, why don't I combine all those and buy you dinner?"

She smiled, "OK."

"Let's take two cars down to King Street. We could go to that place we went to before. You can't miss it, its painted lime green."

OK, I thought. If Molly does accept Peter's invitation, then it'll be a nice surprise for them to find me and Myra having a little dinner together in their special restaurant.

We had a leisurely dinner. Although we agreed that we'd stick to one bottle of wine, we still chose to drink a glass before we even ordered any food. I refused to tell her anything of the Molly story until I asked how Myra was doing with Dr Will. Apparently that was going well, I suspected it was going a lot better than just well, by the smile and warm look in her eyes as she talked about him. But, I expect that she'll tell be all about it in good time.

Then, at her prompting, I told her Molly's story. Straight up, much as I'd told Carole, and Piers McBaine in his Scottish pub last week. I finished with telling her Carole's view that it was my duty to try to build something with Molly. I didn't tell her about Peter's little charade today, partly because I thought that if we did get some special fellow diners, it would look better if it was an accident, and partly because I didn't know what I thought of it myself. I was beginning to wonder whether Peter hadn't carefully devised his script to give me the wrong idea this morning, just out of malice. 

She looked at me across the table, "So, what stops you trying?"

"Simple. It isn't worth it. Even if I could forgive her adultery, and even if I could understand why she married him, we are different people now. You just can't put it all back together. She's been another man's wife for four years, and I've travelled the world and done all sorts of things, most of which I probably shouldn't have, but ... too many experiences. We've changed."

Myra took a sip of wine, "OK." She paused in thought, then she looked up and smiled, "Change of subject. I don't think I've ever told you about me, about where I came from. We've talked about Jonathon, but not the me before that."

"No. You're right. What terrible secrets do you feel a need to confess?"

"None. Hard luck. I grew up with a Mum and Dad, and a sister and a brother, in Bexleyheath. A very average middle class suburb of south London....."

"I don't know it."

"Well, take my word for it, it's OK and the people are nice enough, but it's average. Anyway, I had a special childhood friend. Her name was Tilly. Matilda actually, but she always called herself Tilly for obvious reasons. She was a week older than me, six days to be precise, and she lived a few doors away. I think our Mums met in ante-natal classes. Well, Tilly and I grew up like sisters. We went to the same nursery, then the same local schools. We even went to the same University. She studied Modern Languages, and I did my Business Administration degree. In our second and third years we shared a flat. We were so close."

"Am I meant to say Aah? Or are you going to admit that you are really a closet lesbian, and that Dr Will is really a dyke in drag?"

"None of the above." Then she smiled naughtily, "Except we did practice kissing for one afternoon, when we were about fourteen, just so that we wouldn't get it wrong when we got to boys."

I smiled, and she continued, "Well in our third year at Uni, Tilly met a Spanish guy. He was quite fit, but I soon learned that he had quite a reputation for love 'em and leave 'em. I tried warning her, but she just used to tell me I was jealous. It got to be a real problem between us, and I learnt to keep my mouth shut. I just prayed that they'd split up before she got really hurt."

"And so you learnt the art of diplomacy. Pity you don't practice it now." I said with a smile.

She poked her tongue out at me, and continued, "Then, in the summer term, Tilly told me that they were going to get engaged when they graduated, and get married soon after. I didn't know what to do. But I decided that there was little I could do, and I just hoped that he'd changed his ways. Then, one weekend, Tilly went home for some family do, and there was a party at Uni that I was going to go to. And, guess what? Her fiancé spent the whole evening trying to chat me up."

"And did you tell her?"

"No. I convinced myself that he'd drunk too much, and I chose to overlook it. But a couple of weeks later, we're all at another party, and this time he suggests that Tilly has agreed to a three in a bed romp. So, I did tell Tilly. I was pretty sure she'd agreed to no such thing, and I decided that it was time she knew what sort of man she was marrying."

I sipped some water, and prompted her, "And?"

"And we had the only screaming cat fight I've ever had in my life, right in the middle of the party. He, of course, denied ever saying anything to me, and she never spoke to me again."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It happened. What does Carole say? Shit happens? You can't always avoid it. Anyway, she married him, I wasn't even invited to the wedding. My parents were, I wasn't. And she went off to live in Spain with her new husband."

"And the moral of this story is...?"

"We haven't got that far yet. Last Christmas, that's seven years later, my Mum phoned me and said Tilly wanted to get in touch, and she'd given her my address. Sure enough she turned up on my doorstep some three days later."

"Was it a happy reunion?"

"Yes, it was. It turns out that I'd been right all along and she admitted it. He gave her a terrible time and they were divorced within three years. But she stayed on in Spain, and built a business of advising ex-patriots living there on language, culture and some of the laws. She employed German and Swedish speakers and had quite a business. She was a success."

"Good for her. So a lousy partner doesn't stop you being a good businessman or woman."

She ignored my interruption, "After a couple of years she met another man. A Brit as it happened, but he lived in Spain. And they'd fallen in love and it turned out he was a good bloke. And then she got pregnant, but that was fine. They were going to get married, and everything was rosy. But he got killed in an ETA terrorist attack. I suppose it isn't surprising, but she was so shocked and grief stricken that she lost the baby, she had a miscarriage."

"I'm sorry."

"So, in seven years, she'd argued and split with her best friend, married a lousy man, got divorced, built a business, fell in love, got pregnant, was widowed and had a miscarriage. That's some going in seven years."

"Yes it is. How was she after all that?"

"And this is my point. She was still exactly the same person that I grew up with. She still had the same sense of humour. She still had the same moral values. She still had the same way of glancing at me sideways when she pulled my leg. She still even smoothed her dress in the same way as she sat down. She was still Tilly, as I'd always known her." She paused and looked at me, "Chris, I'm sure there are a thousand and one reasons why you couldn't put it back together with Molly, but that you're different people isn't one of them."

I hadn't seen that one coming. I paused, wondering how to reply. I looked up, "Could you tell me some of the other reasons, I might need them."

She didn't see the funny side of my comment, "And that's your answer, is it?"

I looked at her, "No. I haven't the faintest idea what my answer is, but I'm sure that in time I will."

I looked at my watch, it was nearly half past nine, and the wine had run out long ago. I looked around the room, Peter and Molly hadn't shown up, and I'm pretty sure they wouldn't now. So, I suggested I pay the bill, and that we go home.

As I drove home I thought: I want to find just one person who would be on my side. Someone who would say, 'Reconciliation? You must be fucking joking. Steer well clear of it. Build a good relationship with your sons and just get on with your life.' Just one person like that would be nice.

Not long after I got home, Ralph phoned me.

"Yes, Ralph?"

"Sorry to phone you so late, I tried earlier and you had it switched off."

"I was out for dinner, and I always try to switch it off when I can remember and I'm in a restaurant. Anyway, what can I do for you?"

"I was with Molly this afternoon. What happened to you on Saturday night? She's convinced something did, and she's as bad as she ever was about not having any right to interfere with your life."

"Well she's a bit late to decide that. But as for Saturday night, I'm sorry Ralph, but I'm going to say: Mind your own business."

"Was it a woman? Was it that Myra?"

"It's got nothing to do with you. To the best of my knowledge I'm a single guy with no commitments to anyone, including your daughter."

"Well, I'm sorry, but when my daughter is upset that the man she loves, the man she's committed to, starts other relationships, then it is my business as far as I'm concerned."

I paused to choose my words, "Whatever happened on Saturday night has absolutely nothing to do with you, nor has it anything to do with your daughter. Now, I suggest you get off the phone, before one of us says something that they regret. Tomorrow is Jamie's birthday, I'm meant to be taking Molly and the boys out to dinner. Now if Molly has problems with how I spend my Saturday nights, then she can tell me tomorrow. Good night, Ralph."

And I switched off the phone. Poured myself a whisky and calmed down.

Later, as I lay in bed that night, my mind didn't dwell on Ralph's little parental outburst. Instead my mind went over every possibility of what was happening between Molly and Peter. I was pretty sure that Molly would hate to make a scene, but I knew that the only version of events that would satisfy me was that Molly made it absolutely clear to him that the marriage was over, and one way or another, she would have her divorce.

The next morning Carole brought me my first coffee, and she just stood there looking at me, questioning me with her eyes.

"It's no good looking like that. I don't know what happened. I haven't heard from her. And I'm not going to chase her."

"Oh." Was her only comment.

"But if she phones, or some gossip comes in from the Abbey, then let me know." I shook my head, "I can't think about much else."

She smiled, "Shit happens." 

As she turned to leave, I called her back, "One thing. I'm meant to be taking Molly and the two boys out for a family dinner tonight, it's Jamie's birthday today. Any ideas where I can take them? Molly's a bit wary that I've been feeding them too many burgers and pizzas, so do you know any restaurant where the food is both healthy and will appeal to a nine year old?"

She paused in thought, "Just one. I'd have to try and get the details, but one of the twins told be about a place where they specialise in all sorts of odd meats. You know, ostrich steaks and crocodile burgers. That might appeal."




Back to Bristol Ch. 13



I smiled, "Equally, it might make them sick. But it would be different. See if you can find it."

She turned to go and I called her back, "And can you find out what's happening at the football on Saturday. If it's possible, I'd like to take the boys. And while we're talking about Saturday, I'll move to my new flat in the morning. Could you check that everybody knows, and that it's OK. Please."

She smiled, "Can I go now?"

I smiled, "You'd better, before I think of some real work for you to do. That would interfere with you organising my private life."

Half an hour later she was back with my second cup of coffee. "You are welcome to take your sons to football on Saturday, but Sales are a bit concerned. There's plenty of room, but John Wheeler and Peter Barnes are using it to entertain Sir George Havers and a couple of his guys from Oxfordshire Health, and they aren't sure it will give a good impression with young boys running around."

I looked at her and wracked my brains, "I've met George Havers.....Yes, on the day Helene came. I had lunch with him, I don't remember a lot of it, my mind was elsewhere, but I do remember him raving about his grandchildren. Get him on the phone for me, would you?"

Two minutes later I was being put through to Sir George.

"George Havers."

"George, it's Chris Bennett at ITI Franks. I understand that we're entertaining you at the football on Saturday."

"Yes. Will you be there?"

"I hope so, but I was wondering if you could do me a big favour...."

"Like what?" He asked suspiciously.

"Well, I've sort of promised my two boys to take them to the football, and my sales people are a bit worried about not wanting a seven and nine year old running around. I was wondering if I could convince you to bring your grandchildren?"

It went quiet for a moment, then I heard a rumbling chuckle, "I don't know, Mr Bennett, you want me to make myself the best grandfather in the world, just because it suits you for me to do so, and we don't even do business. And what is more you seem to think that my poor son and his wife would like to be without their three sons on Saturday afternoon. And we both know how much parents hate the idea of having some private time to themselves. Well, if I must I must, I suppose."

I laughed, "Thank you so much. You get me out of an awkward situation. And tell your guys that if they want to bring some off-spring, then just tell them to get in touch with John Wheeler, just to make sure we've got space and can feed them all."

After I put the phone down I called Carole back. "No problem. George Havers is bringing his three grandsons. And there might be a couple of other requests for children. Can you let John know, and tell him that both he and Peter are welcome to bring young guests. It will seal a relationship with Oxfordshire Health ten times better than any sales presentation ever would."

My morning continued, still without any word of what had happened between Molly and Peter last night. Just before lunch, I was in my bathroom washing my hands, and I looked myself in the eye in the mirror, and I knew I would have to phone her on some pretext. 

As I came out, I found Piers McBaine and Neil Davidson standing in the middle of my office, obviously waiting for me. I looked at them, "It's deja vu all over again. Take a seat gentlemen, and tell me what this is all about."

We sat down around the coffee table. It was Piers that started, "Well, you're right in that it is the same old problem. Peter didn't come into work this morning. We've had no word from him whatsoever."

Was that a good sign or a bad sign? I didn't know. But I did know I had to respond. "That's just simply unacceptable. He's a senior executive, he can't just go walkabout when it suits him."

It was Neil who answered, "No. We agree. And this is the second time it's happened in a matter of weeks. If he was a junior member of staff he'd be fast heading to being fired."

"Have we tried phoning him? Is it possible that something has happened to him?" I asked.

Piers replied, "I haven't tried. But Neil phoned his home and got Molly. She said she didn't know where he was. She'd seen him last night, but after that he'd gone off and she hasn't seen him since."

"Hmmm." Was all I said and looked at them both. But I was thinking: Well done Molly - probably.

Piers recognised my dilemma, "It's alright; I briefed Neil on things. He knows what Peter intended last night. That's why he phoned and not me, he could be innocent and just make an enquiry without getting involved in any other conversation."

I turned to Neil, "OK. What would happen to a junior if he behaved like this?"

"Well, it's a matter of judgement. If there's been a terrible car crash and their wife's been killed, then we are terribly flexible and tolerant. If it's that someone just has a hell of a hangover, then they're going to get a formal warning letter. And all points in between. But, we've never had it with anyone this senior before."

"What does his contract say?"

"Nothing on this problem, except that holidays are arranged by mutual agreement and proper notice."

"OK. Well, I can't see any reason to make any exception just because he thinks I've got some part in the story. I guess that's what he's relying on. That I will be tolerant. So, what do you suggest?"

Neil glanced at Piers, but answered, "That all time is off his holiday allowance or is unpaid. That he gets a formal warning letter, and if he's not back by Monday then he's fired. That's what we would do with any junior. It's tough, and if he'd phoned Piers and got some form of agreement, then things would be different."

Piers interrupted, "There is always a possibility that he can come in with a doctor's note that he's suffering from depression."

I reflected Neil's words, "Then things would be different. Can I suggest one other thing. My guess is he's gone off to their cottage in Wales again, it seems to be where he goes to sulk. Piers, I assume you've got his cell phone number." Piers nodded. "Well, give it to Neil and let him make a friendly but formal warning telephone call."

Piers turned to Neil, "Are you OK to do that?"

Neil didn't look too pleased, "No. It's not the sort of call that I look forward to, but I'll do it." Then he looked around at both myself and Piers, and stood up, "Well that's settled. Anyone coming to lunch?"

I answered, "No thanks. I was going to go to the canteen and sit at a random table. You know me."

Piers looked at me, "Can I make a suggestion? That you come over to the Abbey, and have lunch in the refectory there. A bit of damage control PR before there's any damage might not be a bad thing."

Neil added, "It sounds a good idea to me. If anything, encourage a bit of gossip that will allow you and Piers to explain that this is not your fault, whatever Peter Davies says. But, in fairness, we don't know that he has or will say anything."

I looked at Piers, "OK. But we'll go in separate cars, so that I can come back here after lunch."

Piers got to the Abbey first, and he was waiting for me when I arrived. But we separated to have lunch in the refectory. No one mentioned Peter Davies to me, but I did overhear Piers say to someone, that whatever was wrong with Peter Davies's marriage it certainly wasn't Chris Bennett's responsibility. I thought that word, responsibility, was an interesting choice. It might be my fault, I might be the cause of it, but it wasn't my responsibility.

After lunch I went back to Piers's office for a quick coffee. Naturally, he asked, "It sounds like Molly gave him the order of the boot. Any idea what you'll do?"

"I'm vaguely drifting to some ideas. I just can't see that we can put it all back together and pretend that Peter Davies never happened. If I'd known then what had happened, well I guess it would have been my job to get over it. People do all sorts of stupid things, office parties, anger, depression and drunken moments. And if they are a one off, and lessons are learnt, then I think it's a challenge to get over it and rebuild things, assuming there's nothing else wrong with the marriage. But what bugs me, what I really can't explain, is why in the world did she go on to marry him? That's so wrong and just plain stupid."

"Maybe her mother was a bigger influence than you realise."

"No. First, she was still a free thinking responsible adult. You can't just blame the mother. And second, if that was true, don't you think that Molly would be clinging to it as an excuse? She doesn't believe it was all Susan's fault, so why should I?"

Piers shook his head, "But, if your not going to try and rebuild something, then I guess it's all academic anyway."

I looked at him, "Not quite. I begin to think that I'm drifting to some idea that I should put a bit of effort into trying to build some relaxed, supportive relationship with her." I shrugged, "I've got to see that she's got a proper home, and that the boys have got a decent life. That is my responsibility. It's just getting the relationship right between myself and Molly."

Piers looked at me for a long time, "Hmmm. It's interesting, isn't it? How would you go about trying to build a relationship with someone you used to be married to, years earlier? Counselling?"

"No way. First, I doubt whether any counsellor is trained in trying to pick up the pieces of a five year old rift and divorce, and put it half back together, to a friendship level. Second, I'm not having a counsellor walking all over my private life. Third, if Molly and I can't talk honestly to each other, then why are we bothering?"

"OK. But I suspect some periods of formal talking, exchanges of views and information, would be sensible....."

And after that, Piers and myself went into an almost academic exercise of how to put a relationship back together. We even started writing on his white board, with headings like Emotions, Sex, Needs, Wants, and time allocations for various things. It only took ten minutes, it wasn't particularly deep, but it was useful in getting my mind into gear. 

But then I came back to where we started, "But, there is no point if I can't understand how the hell she married him. I could work at understanding or accepting the original adultery, and that's a fairly big obstacle to get over in itself, but not her being married to him for four years. It just makes her the sort of person that I don't want to know."

Piers did one of his long, thoughtful stares, "But you do want to know....." Again he paused, and then brighten up, "I'm under the cosh at home, or will be when Jeanette gets back from being a grandmother at the weekend, to get you to come to dinner again." 

"I'd love to. But you must let me entertain you this time. Somewhere in Bath, you must have a favourite."

"Well, how about... I don't know...Saturday of next week? I'm up at Ester's this weekend, and Jeanette will come home with me. So, why not come round to our place early evening on the following Saturday, and I'll have booked something by then?"

"It's a date." And I left him, and I headed back to the office.

As I came into Carole's office, she handed me the usual sheaf of notes, and then an extra one: "That's the restaurant I told you about. I've actually booked you a table for four people at seven o'clock. I guessed that'd be about right. But I can change it or cancel it."

"No. Let's make the birthday boy face a challenge. Thanks, it sounds... different?"

And so I was ringing Molly's doorbell to take them all for dinner, not long gone six o'clock. She opened the door, and when she saw it was me, she sort of fell into my arms, shaking and crying.

"Hey! What's the matter? Talk to me, tell me." 

I led her into the kitchen, but when I went to guide her to a chair, she just said, "No. Hold me, just hold me. I'll be alright in a moment." 

So I held her, and eventually she stopped sobbing and did sit down. 

She smiled weakly at me, "Sorry about that, I've had a bit of a twenty four hours..."

Just then Ben came bouncing into the room, "Hi, Daddy. Are we going then?"

"Hold on a few minutes, Mummy needs to tell me something. Go and find Jamie and play until I come and get you. OK?"

"OK." He said, rather sulkily, but he did go, looking at his mother, but not saying anything.

After he'd left, I looked at her, "OK. What's happened?"

"It started last night. On Saturday, the letter for Peter from my solicitor arrived. And I put it under his door. Well, he came home last night, and the first thing I knew was him standing in here, with a huge bunch of sweet peas in one hand and the letter in the other, and asking what it meant. And I told him I needed to know what were his intentions about our marriage. I didn't say that I wanted him to divorce me, I thought I'd go gently."

"OK" I said.

"And he said his intentions were to forgive me everything. That he loved me, and that we had a wonderful marriage until you came back into the picture. And he was sure he could get used to you being around, and that he wanted everything to go back as it was. And he handed me the sweet peas."

"Oh! So what did you do?"

"I told him that he'd been right all along, that I did love you. And I thought the marriage was over. But he then seemed to go into panic mode. He said that it was all a passing obsession. That you didn't love me. That he knew we'd spoken, and you hadn't taken me back, and couldn't I see that you never would, and....." She trailed off into some tears.

I filled the pause, "But whether we get back together or not is irrelevant. Your marriage to him is wrong. It always has been. And it has to be ended."

She looked at me, "I know. I know. And that's what I told him. But he wouldn't have it. He seemed to be demanding that I had to stay married to him. That he needed me so much, that I didn't have any say in the matter. I ended up saying that if he didn't divorce me, then I'd divorce him. I think that brought him up with a jerk. But then he started blaming you. That you'd put me up to it...."

"Which in some ways is true."

"No, you only prompted me to do something that's needed doing for ages. Anyway, he was ranting and saying how much he loved me and that I loved him really, then he was crying and sobbing. He went down on his knees and begged me to give him another chance. I said there was no point, but I felt awful. It was horrid."

"So how did it end?"

"It ended when Trisha Marsden from over the road knocked at the door. He answered it and he led her away, and never came back. I locked the doors, so that at least he'd have to knock and I would have some warning."

"Where is he now?"

"I don't know. Neil Davidson phoned this morning and asked where he was. Apparently he hadn't gone into work. That worried me, so I went and looked, he wasn't in the gym, and his car has gone. I guess he's gone to Wales. But I haven't phoned."

I pulled my phone out of my pocket, I went down the directory and found Neil Davidson and pressed Dial. Thank you Carole for loading all useful numbers into my directory.

"Neil Davidson."

"Neil, it's Chris. Did you trace Peter Davies?"

"Yes you were right. He's at their holiday cottage."

"And did you tell him that he's on thin ice?"

"Yes. I gave him quite a talking to, I tried to make it sympathetic and understanding, but with a tough bottom line. I told him that if he wasn't back by Monday, then he'd be fired."

"What did he say?"

"That we'd have to wait until fucking Monday to find out if he fucking cared, and if he wanted to work for that fucking bastard. I assume you are the bastard in question."

I paused before I replied, "I suppose I owe him. I give Scotch to people who call me a fucking bastard. Hasn't Piers told you? But I think I'll just stay as a fucking bastard for him, no whisky."

"I'd heard. And Yes, I'd skip it with him, if I were you."

"Thanks Neil." And we rang off.

I looked at Molly. "It's alright. He hasn't done anything stupid. He is in Wales."

She half smiled, "I guess he's in trouble at work."

"Yes he is. We can't have senior guys just not coming in when they don't feel like it."

"No, you probably can't. There's a little boy element in Peter. But I didn't think he'd do anything stupid. Peter is totally opposed to suicide in circumstances like these. I guessed he'd just gone to Wales."

"Anyway, you should have phoned me last night. Not that there was a lot I could do or say."

"No. It was something that I had to do. It was just horrible, I hated seeing him like that. He does love me, and it wasn't nice."

"No, it probably wasn't. I'm sorry, but you did the right thing." I paused, and for a moment our eyes connected, "So, that was yesterday. What happened today?"

"Susan turned up at about four o'clock to give Jamie his birthday present."

"How is she?"

"Fit, well and unrepentant. She sort of arrived as if everything was normal. It was odd."

"And?"

"And I showed her into the sitting room, where the boys were watching television. She gave Jamie his present, and that was odd, he unwrapped it and it was a game for an X-Box. But Jamie doesn't have an X-Box, so I didn't understand."

"What did she say?"

"She seemed surprised that he didn't have an X-Box. She seemed to think that he was having one for his birthday. I don't know where she got that idea."

"I do." I said, "I've just remembered something Carole said." I paused and looked at her and took her hand; I wasn't sure how she was going to react to what I was going to say, "Peter came to see me in my office yesterday. He came to tell me that he was going to forgive everyone and move on with his life. I really thought that he had accepted the idea of divorce, and had learnt to live with it. Apparently he went to see Piers, and gave him the same impression. But, I thought he looked fit and well. And apparently Carole thought the same, only she mentioned it, and he said it was sea air that had done him good. I didn't think about it at the time, but you don't get a lot of sea air halfway up a Welsh mountain, but you do in Weymouth."

Her lips thinned, and her eyes hardened, "They got together over the weekend. I bet it was her that put him up to last night's attempted reconciliation. And she thought he was going to give Jamie an X-Box." She paused, and then stood up and got herself a glass of water, "I asked her, did she meet with Peter before we were married? She wouldn't actually answer that. She said that all she did was for the best, that she wanted me to be happy. How could she, she's my mother? So much for motherly love and maternal instincts."

"How did you leave it?"

She shrugged, "I told her to phone next time before she comes to visit. I think that shocked her, we always had an easy come and go relationship before. She started to protest that she was their grandmother, that she had a right to see them. But I just said it would be more convenient if she phoned ahead of time in future. Whether she will or not....." she shrugged again.

We paused, in silence. There didn't seem to be much I could say. I did think that I would have to tell her that I had wind of Peter's reconciliation attempt and that I'd chosen to do nothing. But, I'd leave that for another day. 

I went over and gave her a quick hug. "Are you going to be alright? Or shall I tell Jamie that he's going to have to wait for another night?"

"No. Come on. I need to freshen up, but it will be good for me and help me to stop thinking. My brain's in overload."

Eventually, we got to the restaurant, and it turned out to be better and more fun that I was expecting. As is the way of these things, the only one not to eat an unusual meat was the birthday boy, Jamie. Molly had crocodile, I had ostrich, and Ben had a bison burger, although I suspect that had more to do with burger than bison. But, what did Jamie want? Lasagne! But it was his birthday, and we didn't argue. I gave him my present, and he seemed really pleased with the books, until gave him the Ipod, which seemed far more exciting. 




Back to Bristol Ch. 13



Of course, I should have known, Carole had done her thing. Unordered, Jamie got a big birthday ice cream, with candles and sweets all over it. 

As I sat there, I could have got very sentimental about how happy it all was. I had to give myself a good mental talking to. There can be four of us in a family, but there are only two of us in a marriage, and marriages have to last when the family has grown up.

When we got back, Ben was hustled off to bed, but Jamie was given half an hour on the computer to see if he could find some music to download. Of course, half an hour wasn't long enough, and he put up quite a fight to have longer, but he lost. I was rather pleased to see that he went into his bedroom with one of his new Harry Potter books, with clear instructions that he was only allowed to read one chapter before his light had to go off.

Once the boys were in bed, Molly got out a bottle of wine. Suddenly remembrance of that Sunday night, so long ago, when I got out a bottle of wine, determined to talk about something that was wrong in my family hit me. It took all my inner strength to not just walk away.

I looked at Molly, "Are you going to be alright?"

"Yes. I hope he doesn't come back and make ugly scenes. It was a bit scary. I hadn't seen him like that before. There were a few minutes when he was quite manic."

"Why don't you go and live with Ralph? They've got a big house. And you are both in this together in some ways, from the Susan aspect of it all."

She paused and thought about that, before almost musing, "I wonder what he'll do?"

I assumed she meant Ralph and I remembered him talking to me, "He told me that he'd forgive her, and that they'd sort something out."

"But everything we find out seems to show her up more. I'm not sure what to do about her. I don't want to break up with my own mother, but.....I'm having real difficulty. It would help if I knew just how much she got up to, how much she influenced me."

"Those are unanswerable questions. Look, I'd be happier if you went to live with Ralph, with or without Susan. Can't you check with your solicitor that there's no great implications of you moving out, and subject to that, move over there. You'd have a built in babysitter."

She looked at me, pleading in her eyes, "Do I need somewhere else to live? Couldn't we have somewhere?"

I guess something showed in my eyes, because she suddenly retracted, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't push you. I know that. It's just....."

"It's just that you will have to give me time. More time. It's been nearly five years. A week or two isn't going to make much difference." I tried smiling reassuringly, "But I am just beginning to shape up some ideas that may not be all you think you want, but somehow will be a darn sight better than we've got now, and is a fresh start."

She looked up sharply, keenly interested, "Is that it? You can't just say something like that and not tell me."

"Yes I can. I have to, I haven't thought it all out myself yet. It's just that I feel we have to do something that'll give Jamie and Ben some security, but I don't know how or what. I thought you'd be pleased that I am trying to make some progress in my thoughts."

"Yes, I'm sorry. I keep forgetting how hard all this is for you. I know what I want, and it's hard to realise that you have doubts. Please just remember that I love you and I'd do anything to be given a second chance."

I smiled, "I could challenge you on that 'anything', but I'm scared you just might."

"You could have come round and challenged me on Saturday night. What happened?"

"And that's precisely it. There is no way I could come round here and just do what I did on Saturday night. I went out, knowing that I wanted sex. Good old fashioned, uncomplicated sex. And I met a charming woman who I liked, but don't care about and will never meet again. And we had good old fashioned sex. And it was great. There was no future in it, I doubt whether we liked each other enough to have gotten past Sunday lunch even if we'd tried our hardest. It was meaningless, wonderful, relaxing, refreshing sex. Now, there is no way I could get that with you. It would be meaningful, and at the moment, it certainly wouldn't be relaxing or refreshing. Every minute would have been invested with emotion and pressure. And you know damn well it would."

It was quiet for a moment, Molly had gone very pale, and then she asked, "Is that what you meant by you've changed. That we can't ever get together, that you're a different person now? You're someone who goes out on a Saturday night and picks up a total stranger for meaningless sex?"

"No. No way. I was completely faithful to you. You know I was. I was completely faithful to Helene when we were together. That's the sort of person I am, and when I'm committed to a relationship, then I like it that way. It isn't an effort, I don't want anyone else. But, just in case you've forgotten, at the moment I'm not committed."

Again we fell to silence, which I broke, "Ralph phoned me last night. He said you were all upset about your suspicions of what I did on Saturday evening. I'm sorry I hurt you, you should know I would never purposely do that. But it was nothing to do with you. I'm a bachelor and I went out on Saturday and I got lucky, I got laid, and that was exactly what I wanted to happen. I'm sorry that you guessed and got hurt by it."

"You could have come round here. I long for you. Do you know what I did on Saturday night? I rubbed myself and thought of you. I love you, I want you, and it's hateful that you're out there looking for something that I'd give you freely and with love."

"And with strings attached. It's inevitable. And anyway, you're married. I'm sorry, but you are, and that sticks in my throat. I don't do it with married women." I paused, and as she didn't respond, I added, "Look. If I ever do get committed to you again, in any way, then I promise, it will be completely natural for me to be one hundred percent totally faithful to you. But, until then, I'm sorry, but I am a free agent."

We looked at each other, and I could read in her eyes that she understood, but that I had hurt her. I felt guilty about that for no logical reason that I could see.

I tried smiling, "If I'd known you were letting your hands do the walking, well I might have come round to watch that."

She smiled, "Watching is a privilege of commitment."

"Told you." I smiled, and then changed subject, "Is it OK if I take the boys to football on Saturday. It's a mixture of business entertaining and a fun afternoon out."

"Sure. Can you pick them up from here, but bring them back to Ralph's. I promised to go over there."

"Sure."

And that was the way we left it. 

Nothing much happened for the rest of the week. Peter didn't come back to work, so finding out whether he'd turn up on Monday was going to be critical. Nobody gave me helpful advice or preached little homilies at me, which made a pleasant change. And I got through all the way to Saturday without a problem. It was almost like a holiday in itself.

On Saturday, the football went well with all the children. In fact it was a great success, and John Wheeler started talking about holding family days for the clients and prospects. My boys loved it, and as soon as I got them back to Ralph's, they had to tell him all about it. 

He stood there in the middle of his front lawn with his arms around both of them as they jabbered away, but he looked at me, in the eyes, "I'm sorry about Monday night. I think I was a little over-protective."

I just said, "Forgiven. I understand. Things must be a bit stressed for you too." 

"But you should think things through a bit better. You have to realise, whether you like it or not, several peoples' happiness is dependent on you."

I turned away, "Thanks. Just what I didn't want to know."

I found Molly in Ralph's kitchen. I didn't have a lot to say. I told her that I'd moved my stuff over to my new flat that morning, and I gave her the new address. She immediately asked if she could see it, and I felt fairly relaxed about that, and said I'd give her a ring. 

Somewhere in that conversation, Ralph came in and put the kettle on for a cup of tea, and invited me to stay.

"No thanks. I'll leave you in peace." I looked at Molly, "Just one thing. I've remembered that when I took Jamie to the Zoo last Sunday, just as he'd asked, he told me that it wasn't the zoo he'd wanted to go to. He said he had memories of going to what sounded like a safari park or something with you and Peter. It must have been some time ago, because Ben couldn't remember it. Any ideas?"

She immediately blushed and looked guilty, "Yes. It was Longleat. You know Lord Bath's place over at Warminster." She gulped and looked at me, "It was before our divorce was finalised. Peter had been nagging that he wanted to take us all on a day out. I think he was wanting to show that he could be a family man. But I kept turning him down."

I noticed Ralph was obviously trying to show that he was not listening to this story, but equally obviously he was listening intently. 

"But...?" I prompted.

"Well then he turned up at my desk at the Hospital and said he'd just won a Family Ticket for Longleat in some charity raffle. Well, I still turned him down. But, Susan kept nagging, and in the end, I agreed to go. I thought the boys deserved a break, they didn't need to be trapped at home with weepy me all the time. So we went. And everyone had a great time, except that I cried when I got home. I'd just had a great family time with the wrong family man. Oh why couldn't I see it then?"

Suddenly, Ralph said, "Just a minute.." and he disappeared off, leaving Molly and myself looking at each other in bewilderment. He came back with three big box files. 

He looked at us, "I guess I should explain. For the last couple of days I've been thinking, getting paranoid I guess, if Susan could lie to me about what she did to interfere with you two, what else had she lied about? So, I've been going through all our old household accounts. Credit cards, phone bills, bank statements, just trying to see if there are any surprises. To be honest I never check any of them when they come in. We live well within our means, lots of things are paid by direct debit, and all I do is keep filing the papers."

"Don't feel guilty. I'm worse these days. I get Carole to file them for me." I said reassuringly.

"Well, I started with the phone bills, checking her itemised accounts. I can go back six years would you believe? I just keep putting new months on top until the file is full, then I take a year out from the bottom." 

He suddenly pulled out a sheaf of itemised phone listings. With several lines per page highlighted with a hi-lite pen. 

"These are the for the period you two were splitting up. She was phoning Peter three or four times a week then. Some days she'd phone him three times in one day. That shows you the level of their collusion. I'm sorry." 

He handed the papers to Molly, "You might like to check them, some dates may jog your memory; explain something she said....Anyway, I moved on to the credit cards. There was nothing particularly inexplicable there. A few charges around my birthday and Christmas that I didn't immediately recognise. The rest is petrol bills and supermarkets."

He looked up at me and smiled, "And No, there aren't any bills from seedy motels or anything like that. But there was one unexplained charge, from Longleat, would you believe?"

He opened the third box, and pulled out what was obviously a set of Bank Statements. "And here is her clearing the cheque for exactly the same amount that Peter obviously repaid her with." He held up the page, pointing to another highlighted line.

Both Molly and I reacted at the same time, and both said something similar, "So she bought the Family Ticket. Gave it to him and he then paid for it. And he said he'd won it in a raffle."

There was a long silence, which eventually I broke, "Well I guess it doesn't tell us anything really new. We all suspected something, maybe not quite this proactive on her part, but something. I suppose it's nice to have proof."

Molly interjected, "But it also shows that Peter was lying to me. That my relationship with him is based on lies. I just don't know what to believe anymore. I don't know how much I was manipulated." She sounded very bitter.

I looked at Ralph, he was deep in thought, "Ralph?"

"Sorry. I don't think I can answer that. I wish I could. I wish I'd known. All I remember is Susan being so insistent that we mustn't interfere. I really thought she was visiting Molly just to help, to be there, to lend a neutral ear, and to cook supper for the boys. Only once did she show any favouritism, one evening we were talking and she sang the praises of Peter. What an exceptionally kind and tolerant man he must be to be willing to court Molly when she was so upset about you, Chris. But I thought that was just a private conversation."

There was a long silence, broken by Ralph suddenly saying, "God! I'm so sorry." And he rushed out of the room, with his hand over his face. 

I looked at Molly. "I don't think there's much more to be said, or certainly not by me. Maybe you should go and see your father, and I'll go." I kissed her on the cheek and left.



Back to Bristol Ch. 14



As I drove away from Ralph's house that Saturday afternoon, I was deep in thought. Was it possible that with Susan and Peter working as a close team that they managed to brainwash Molly into marrying Peter? It seemed pretty farfetched, and then I thought, what would it have gained Peter? He would have known that the relationship was based on lies and collusion. He's a sensible guy, surely he'd know that a marriage built on sand would inevitably fail?

But then there was an even more basic question: Did it matter? But, Yes it did. Because, maybe, just maybe, it would help to explain why she had done the stupid thing of marrying him. But I had difficulty with that, if she was a brainwashed zombie then I didn't like that image of her either.

When I got back to my new flat, life took over. Moving that morning had involved little more than getting everything to the new flat and dumping it on the floor. And even doing that had taken two trips in the car. So, the evening was spent organising things, with one break when Mum phoned. Len and her had got as far as Glasgow, and were going on a cruise of Loch Lomond tomorrow. She sounded as if they were having a good time. She did ask for an update on the state of play, but there wasn't a lot to say. I was pleased that when I just said I was still thinking about things, she didn't press me. At ten o'clock I quit unpacking and arranging things for the day, poured myself a whisky and watched the television news. It was only then that I really looked at my new place.

I was really pleased with it. It was stylish and had quality. It wasn't terribly big, but it had a second bedroom, so I had thoughts that maybe the boys could stay over once in a while. And that maybe useful if life gets tough between Molly and Peter. 

What I also noticed was that the place was impersonal. I'd lived for three months in the company flat and it hadn't worried me. But this one was My Flat. And it had very little of me in it, except for my clothes. I'd have to do something about that. So, I spent most of Sunday walking around shops looking for things to personalise the flat and to make it home By Sunday evening I'd spent quite a lot of money, but as I looked around the flat I was quite pleased with the look of the place. I gazed at the set of crystal decanters that I'd bought, wondering how to fill them. Brandy was obvious. Maybe a sherry in case Ralph calls? I'd have to consult Piers on the whisky. That would give me an excuse to phone him in the morning.

Monday morning in the office, and Carole openly asked, "And the next instalment?"

"Not a lot, except..." and I told her about Susan and the tickets for Longleat. It was the first time I ever saw Carole leaving my office angry. She obviously decided she couldn't say what she thought of my ex-mother to me, and she left the room, quietly fuming.

I let her fume whilst I called Piers. I opened, straight to the point. "Is he in?"

"Yes. In his office. I don't know how well he's going to work, but he's in. I've told him that he can cancel his regular Wednesday's research at the eye hospital, they can do without him; he's got work to catch up on things here. Anyway, he's got to go your way later, Neil's got to give him a dressing down and his formal warning letter. I'd keep my head down if I were you. In no uncertain terms, he is pretty sure all his troubles are your fault."

"I really couldn't give a damn. Now the real reason why I phoned..."

"That wasn't?"

"Well, it was a pretty big part of it. But now I want to turn to religion. Which whisky should I have in my decanter as a nightcap type of drink?"

"Ah! The search for the Holy Grail! Personally, I'd choose something from the North of the Highlands. But, for a novice convert like you I'd recommend something old, probably from Speyside, and with some years in the vat."

No name? No recommendation? That's not what I wanted, "Is that it?"

He laughed, "Yes. Discovery is what it's all about. The journey, not the arrival."

"Research you mean. Bloody researchers."

"We're all fucking bastards!" He chortled happily as I put the phone down.

On Monday evening I drove back to the wine shop where I'd bought my whisky before. I found the same guy as had been there before, not that he remembered me. But I explained that I was looking for an aged Speyside malt, and he produced a 21 year old Balvenie matured in Port Wood. So I bought it because I like port, and that was the only clue I had. At over £50 per bottle, I thought for a first attempt it that was quite enough.

Later that evening I couldn't resist trying. Who was it that said they don't know much about art, but the know what they like? I don't know much about malt whisky, but I know I like this stuff.

As I sipped it, I started thinking about Molly. In some ways I wished I'd never come back to Bristol, but then I'd never have rebuilt my relationship with Jamie and Ben. I couldn't imagine building anything but some supportive friendship with her, but there were too many memories, too many echoes of what we once had. Then I began to worry, I guess Peter was back living in their gym next door. Would he make trouble? It was a ridiculous situation, him camping out in the gym, and her and the boys next door. I had to talk her into something better, away from him. 

In the end I called her, it was gone eleven o'clock. She sounded tired and quiet when she answered the phone.

"Hi, I hope I didn't wake you."

"No, I'm in bed, but not asleep."

"I was sitting here getting worried that Peter's back. Is he causing any problem?" I asked.

"No. Not a problem. He knocked at the kitchen door earlier, and that was a first, he's just come and gone before. Anyway, he very politely and formally asked if we could sit down and talk. He says he has a right to be heard."

"What did you say?"

"That there was no point. But that I'd think about it. I promise you I have no intention of sitting and talking to him. I just wanted him gone. I only agreed to think about it so that he would leave this evening."

There was a pause, then I told her, "He had an official warning letter at work today. He's screwing up his job."

"I kinda guessed that. It doesn't help. He is a good man, and he does love me. And he's screwing up his whole life."

There was a long pause. I was thinking that she sounded tired. Which made me think that now wasn't the time to tell her what I really thought of Peter Fucking Davies.

Instead, I suddenly suggested, "Could you get a babysitter for tomorrow evening, late evening, after you've seen the boys to bed? If you could, then why not come down here for a drink and to see my new place?"

"You know I'd like that. I'm sure Ralph would baby-sit. He feels so guilty about what Susan did. On Saturday, after you'd gone, I found him in tears. I've never seen my father cry before. And I couldn't say that what she did didn't matter, because it did."

"I wish we knew how much."

"How much our splitting matters? Everything. Don't you know that?"

"Yes, it was the worst thing that ever happened in my life, too. But I didn't mean that. What I meant was: I'd like to know just how influential Susan and her collaboration with Peter was in it all going so wrong."

"You want to know that? How do you think I feel? I think I'm going mad." She sounded very bitter, "There's nothing in that bit of my history that I can grasp and say I genuinely felt that, I wasn't just manipulated to feel it. Or that I freely chose to do something, and wasn't manipulated to let it happen."

"We haven't got any answers, but maybe we should talk about it tomorrow evening."

"Yes. I'll look forward to it. I love you, Chris. And I am sorry......"

I didn't say anything, very conscious that I couldn't make the wanted response. After a couple of moments silence I heard the phone click as she put hers down.

I went to bed still pondering just how much a free, independently minded adult could be manipulated. It was her signature on the wedding certificate to Peter, not Susan's. I was willing to talk, willing to try to understand, but I didn't think I'd be convinced.

First thing on Tuesday morning, Piers phoned me, "Hi, Chris. I thought I'd phone you. You know Myra's arranged this meeting about the future of this site. Well, she's moved it to be held here, and I guess I should invite Peter. What do you think?"

My heart missed a beat. Maybe I'm a coward, but from what I understood of Peter's mood and what he thought of me, I'm not sure I needed a showdown with him in front of a property developer, an architect and my staff. I was wary, very wary. "I didn't know she'd moved it. I'm not sure I've got the time to drive over to the Abbey and back, just for one meeting. It isn't that sort of day for me. If she has to hold it at the Abbey, then I won't be there."

"But if we hold it as planned in your office, you would be?" Piers asked.

"Yes." I said with more enthusiasm than I felt.

"Well, unless Myra has some real reason why it has to be held here, then let's hold as planned. And I'll tell Peter he's invited, and we see what he does. I suspect he'll find a prior engagement, but we don't know."

"That sounds like a plan. Will you talk to Myra? I'll tell Carole." I smiled bitterly to myself. I'll tell her to have the Band Aid ready, and at least I'll have a stiff whisky to hand if I need it!

"I'll call her right now. By the way, Jeanette insists that you come to us on Saturday. She never was too keen on restaurants, and she argues that home is more private if you want to talk. As if she'd let you get away without!"

I smiled to myself, "I'm looking forward to seeing Jeanette. She knew Molly well, I'd be interested on her views on one aspect of all this. Oh, by the way, I chose a twenty one year old Balvenie. Any good?"

He laughed, "I couldn't tell you until I've tasted it. Any Tuesday evening this week will do."

Now I laughed, "Hard luck. I can't do it, but you can tell Jeanette this just to tantalise her: Molly's coming over this evening."

He wished me the best of luck, and rang off.

Peter didn't turn up for the meeting which was held in my office. But Piers brought a Research Project Manager with him instead. She seemed an amiable and intelligent young woman, and when I asked after her, in a private few words with Piers, he said she was a possibility as a future Deputy, should anything happen to Peter.

Afterwards some guilt and shame attacked me, for not going over to the Abbey and facing up to Peter. As Managing Director I can't have no-go areas in my own company.

So, I was in a very mixed mood when Molly buzzed the entry-phone that night.

I opened the door for her and waited. As she came up the stairs I thought she looked good, casual, but sexy. As I kissed her on the cheek, her perfume hit me. It wasn't her usual one but it was very good.

"You smell nice." I said as a greeting.

She smiled, "Thank you. It's L'Air du Temps. Peter gave it to me for my birthday."

God! That hurt. For a moment our eyes locked, and she knew what she'd done. But she didn't say anything, and I hoped my smile stayed in place.

I showed her over the flat, and she seemed to like it. When we got to the little second bedroom, I did say that I hoped the boys could come and stay some times. 

Her response worried me, "They're a bit...... mixed up at the moment."

We talked for some time about them, whilst we returned to the living room, and I poured us a couple of glasses of wine. We talked about how they had been through our original divorce and how they were now as their lives changed yet again. I used it as an excuse to argue that she should take them and go and live with Ralph. I don't think she was opposed to the idea, but was reluctant. I asked why?

She looked at me, "Because I hoped ......." And the look in her eyes told me what she hoped for.

"No. You know that's not going to happen. We're a long way off that happening, if ever."

She looked very disappointed, but her face tightened and she accepted it and she continued, "And I guess I'm a bit scared of Susan coming back. At some stage Ralph has got to let her back. At the moment they meet for lunch once or twice a week, but I assume he'll let her come home sometime, and I don't think I want to live under the same roof as her."

I smiled, "I don't blame you. Does she know that you are going to divorce Peter? And what state is that in, by the way?"

"I don't know whether Susan knows. Who knows who talks to who any more? But I spoke to the solicitor this afternoon. We've had no reply from Peter to her letter, so I told her to start preparing for me to divorce him. I'm going to see her on Thursday about that."

"Good." Was all I could say.

There was a long pause, a silence. For my part, I was wondering how to approach talking about the gulf that lay between us. But, it was Molly who spoke first, "The other day you said you'd moved forward in your thinking. Could you tell me how? Even if you haven't come to any conclusion...please, Chris."

I looked at her, "OK. I guess I feel, no, I know that whatever I feel, whatever you feel, it is impossible to just pick up where we left off. I know that's what you want. Everybody seems to want it, it'd be the fairytale ending. But this is real life, and you can't go back in time, however much we might want to."

As I watched her, her face drained of colour, and her eyes filled with tears, "Couldn't you at least try....please, I know I hurt you, I know it's been over four years, but I still love you. Please Chris...."

Before she collapsed completely into tears, I interrupted, "But that doesn't mean we can't try and find a way of building something new."

She looked up at me, there was interest and some hope in her eyes, and I continued, "Maybe we can get to a happy, supportive friendship, without hurts and jealousies, something that gives the boys the stability and love they need..."

"I'm not sure I understand what you mean?"

"Well, how would you suggest that we get to a place where we're comfortable with each other? Where we can understand and share each other's lives, without regrets and hurtful memories?"

"But not share love, not get back to a true partnership?"

"I'm sorry Molly, I don't think that's possible. But I would like to be able to see you, to talk to you, without getting hurt because you tell me that the perfume I like was bought by Peter."

"Time will do that. But I want more, I want to be more than a friend...."

The idea that time will do it just wasn't enough, that was too simplistic, "I had dinner with Myra last Monday. Today I spent two hours at work with her. And I had lunch with her and some others. How do you feel about that? Don't tell me that you didn't just flinch. That a pang of jealousy didn't just hit you. It will take a huge effort just to get over that sort of thing, let alone anything else. And I don't know how to do it. What do you think?"

She ignored my question, "I thought you said you were finished with her. But you were taking her out to dinner only a week ago?"

"I didn't say I took her out to dinner. I said I had dinner with her, although as it happens, I did pay. But she is a friend. A very attractive and sexy one I will admit, but only a friend. And she knew that something big and dramatic has happened in my life, and she wanted to know what. So we had dinner together." I paused and looked at her, and thought: What the Hell, there is no good time for this bit. "I knew Peter was going to come round last Monday with flowers, and an all is forgiven attitude. And I guessed he wanted to take you to dinner in your special restaurant, and as Myra wanted to talk to me, I just happened to suggest that we could talk over dinner in a random restaurant in King Street."

She looked at me, very questioningly, but then said, "How did you know?"

"Because he told Piers, and Piers told me. And we realised that Peter's talks to both of us in the morning were misunderstood, or he purposely misled us. And we knew what he intended. I thought about warning you, but what good would that have done? He was intent on his mission to save the marriage."

Suddenly, she smiled, "And you were scared and jealous that I might let him take me to dinner."

"No! Not jealous, just interested...concerned."

She just looked at me, with a little smile of victory on her face. A look that I'd seen many times before, but then it was over minor incidents; being proved right on some detail or winning a tennis match. I'd have to think about it, was I jealous?

I partially conceded, "Well, you have to remember, I loved you so much, and I guess old habits die hard."

"So, let them have a chance of growing again. What happens if we could rebuild something? Please don't just close the door on that for ever. Please, Chris."

"Well, I'm not. If two people are seeing each other regularly, sharing a bit of their lives, and we have two sons so we'll definitely be sharing something, then I guess anything can happen. But I wanted to be honest with you, I don't think it will."

"But you would try to build some relationship? How about counselling? Or just meeting to talk? Whatever you want."

"I don't want to raise your hopes. You asked where I was in my thinking, and I'm trying to tell you. I'm not committed to anything yet, except trying to make sure you're in a position to give my boys a life they deserve. But, Piers McBaine raised the question of how do you go about trying to rebuild anything after all this time."

"You talked to Piers about this?"

"He raised it. And like you, he suggested counselling. But I said No. We then went on to just talk about all the aspects that would have to be covered. The past; the future; sex; why are we in this horrible situation. There are so many aspects of it all. There are the facts of what happened, and there's how we felt then and how we feel now. It's complicated."

"You spoke to Piers, I spoke to Heather Washington at the Hospital. She's a counsellor...."

"I told you, no counsellors. If we can't talk between ourselves, then it isn't worth trying. I don't want some do-gooding, soft-centred nosey-parker crawling all over my private life, thank you."

"Thanks very much. What do you think I do for half my life as a dietician?"

I looked at her and realised that I'd gone over the top, "Whoops. Sorry. It's just that I don't want to share this with someone else, a complete stranger. This is just us. What happens between us is all that matters. Whatever Ralph thinks, or Susan did, or my Mum wants, it has to be just us that solves it. I'm sorry, but that's the way I feel."

"Heather may have some good tools, ways of dealing with issues."

"So, you talk to her if we get stuck. That assumes we ever start."

She didn't like that last comment, but I could see her thinking as I poured us two more glasses of wine.

She looked at me for some time, then she asked, "What does it take to get you to at least be willing to start? To be willing to talk to me?"

I wished she hadn't asked that, "Oh! There's plenty I have difficulty with. Why my wife of seven years went with that man to his flat and fucked the afternoon away? That isn't a good start."

She immediately burst into tears, "You know it wasn't like that. But you're right, there is no answer to that one. Don't you think I haven't asked myself that over and over again. Why did I do it? Why did I throw everything away in a moment of lust? I'm sorry....."

I leant over and squeezed her hand, "Actually, I think I'd be kinder to you on that one than you'd be to yourself." 

She looked up at me, through her tears, "I'm sorry....."

"I know you are." I gave her hand a squeeze. "I think the real problem that goes around and around in my head isn't what happened in a moment of stupid lust, it's what happened in weeks and months that led you to marry him. That's where I lose respect for you."




Back to Bristol Ch. 14



She didn't like that one much either. "I wish I could answer that as well. Some of it must be Susan's influence....."

"You can't blame Susan for all of it. You wrote me that dreadful letter. It was your signature on the bottom, not Susan's."

She frowned and sipped her drink. Then she wiped her eyes, "I don't blame Susan for all of it. And that letter was one of the inexplicable things in whatever Susan was playing at. Looking back, I can see some of the things that Susan did that did do damage, that manipulated me. She argued so heavily that I must give you time to decide for yourself if you wanted me back. And she was heavy on that you probably wouldn't. That you were too proud a man, you wouldn't take me back. I think that sort of talk probably pushed me more and more into depression."

I shook my head, "How could a mother do that?"

"But it was more than that. I remember at least twice when she physically stopped me coming to see you. When I got so upset, so desperate, that I was heading out of the door to see you, she physically held me back. 'You can't go and see him when you're like this. You'll do more harm than good. Come and have a cup of tea and calm down. Go and see him at the weekend, when you're calmer.' And, of course the moment passed. If only..."

"If only...." I echoed. 

"But then, when I came to write that letter, she was helpful. I don't understand that, I talked to Ralph about it the other day. Because suddenly, one afternoon, I scrawled out a letter to you, begging you to take me back. It was lying on the table when Susan came round. She used to call in every day just to check up on me and see how everything was. I used to be so grateful for all the time she put in, now I wonder.... Anyway, she saw it and asked what it was and I let her read it. Well, she told me it was an emotional scrawl and that we could do better. She then sat down with me and helped compose a sensible, constructive letter, that wasn't all emotion, but it still said how sorry I was and wished you'd take me back..."

"If that's what you thought you said, then I suggest you launch a suit against your English teacher, because it drove a knife into my heart. Several knives."

"Why?"

"Well, for a start, as soon as I opened it, I saw it was typewritten. Where's the loving appeal in a typed letter?"

"That was Susan. She said it should be typed, and I let her. But it was the words that mattered. And they did tell you how I felt."

I sighed, "I wish I still had it. I threw it away. For a split second throwing it away helped. But I read it at least twice, and scanned some of the phrases a dozen times." I paused, and thought, "You don't think Susan corrupted it do you?"

"No. I'll swear it was all my own words. I checked it very carefully before I signed it and I put it in the envelope and put a stamp on it myself. Every word was from my heart, I promise."

I shrugged, "Then you have some very odd understanding of the English language. 'That special afternoon.' I remember that phrase to explain your tryst with Peter. And that you 'thought' you'd loved me. Even our past love was written off as a mistake...."

"Did I say that? I don't remember what adjective I used for that afternoon. And I know I had been saying that I thought I loved you, but I'm sure I just said that I loved you in the letter. You must have read it wrong. You admit that it upset you that it was typewritten, you probably had written it off before you ever read it."

I sipped my wine, "Maybe. I do have to admit that I was so hurt by all of this. I don't think I was so angry by the time of the letter, but I was still hurt. Maybe I didn't read it all correctly. But even then...."

"Ralph's been trying to explain to me how much I hurt you. I'm sorry. I think I was so wrapped up in my own horrors I didn't understand. And Susan was saying you'd be alright. That you were a man, they get over these things. Again, I guess she was steadily peeling me away from you. That's what makes the way she helped over the letter so odd, even if you didn't like that she wanted it typed up."

"Maybe it was her one act of redemption. So that, in her own mind, she could say she tried."

"Yes. That's what I decided. One act of doing the right thing to balance weeks of doing it wrong. I don't know if I can ever forgive her. I don't want to split with my own mother, but..."

"Give it time. See if she apologises, when she realises that she's been found out, and that Peter's on his way out. It's up to her to say sorry."

We both sat and drank the rest of our wine in silence for a couple of minutes. Then Molly asked, "Do you want the boys at the weekend? It's a Bank Holiday one again."

"Yes. It's because it was a late Easter, but we seem to be only doing a nine day fortnight recently. But, of course I want them one day. How about the Monday? I guess I should take them to Longleat, if that's where they want to go. It's as good a place as any for a day out."

"That sounds nice. They had a good day there last time, it was only me that didn't."

"Well, they'll have a good time. I do owe you a big thank you on how easy it has been to get back into their lives."

"I think making sure that your memory never died with them helped keep it alive for me. And, considering you were travelling or living abroad for over three years, you did all that could have been expected of you. I wasn't surprised that you never forgot a birthday or Christmas, or even the new school terms. But in some ways it hurt me, it reminded me what a good man I'd lost, that I'd pushed their father away. I owe them big time." And her eyes clouded again.

We stood up and I gave her a reassuring hug, "Don't worry. Children survive parents. Its just life to them."

We knew the evening was over, and I escorted her down to the front door, where I kissed her on the cheek and said goodbye.

After she'd driven off, I went back inside and poured myself a whisky. As I sipped it, I thought about how I still couldn't reconcile the intelligent Molly that I knew, that had been here in this flat until a few minutes ago, with the fucking stupid idiot that allowed her life to go so wrong. 

For the next three days I hardly had a second to think of Molly and her or my future. Two days were in London, of which a whole twenty minutes was spent reporting to The Old Man. We talked about the possibility of developing the Marston Abbey site, and he insisted that we involve the PR people. Corporations selling off historic buildings, if it turns out to be against the wishes of the local population or some special interest group, can always turn into a PR nightmare. I did also mention that I was considering the future of the Exeter operation, and the possibility of selling them off, or allowing a management buy out, if that's what Stephen Hobbs can put together. That allowed him to finish the meeting with "Exodus 5:1". 

As I left his office, I said to Pamela, "Can I borrow your Bible?" and through the open door, I heard The Old Man's voice, "Let my people go."

Pamela looked at me, and we both laughed. Then she rather surprisingly said, "I like Carole."

"So do I." I answered.

"The best of her type in the Group, I'd say."

I looked at her, and very clearly said, "And she's staying in Bristol."

Pamela smiled, "Just testing. Making sure you appreciate what you've got."

As I sat on the train on Friday evening, heading for Bristol, I thought I was becoming paranoid. I began to wonder what Pamela's message of appreciating what I've got was meant to mean. Was it possible that Carole had talked my problem through with Pamela, and this was Pamela's hidden advice? Common sense told me that that was a stupid idea, and even if it wasn't, the advice was wasted because I couldn't see how it applied to me. 

By the time I got home on that Friday, I was tired, and feeling grimy from London and travelling. I ran myself a nice deep hot bath and was just about to get in it when Mum phoned. They were now in St Andrews, and Len was thinking of taking up Golf. I did tell her that my thinking was now focussed on trying to understand what happened to Molly that made her marry Peter. I told her about Susan's games, and that kept us talking for quite some time. And, although I made no real progress in my thinking, it was calming and relaxing just to talk all my thoughts through with Mum. She didn't contribute much to my thinking, but was a good listener, and that was possibly the best thing she could have done.

It was about eleven o'clock on Saturday morning that I got a call from Ralph. Could he come and see me? And it was about a quarter to twelve before he arrived.

I let him in, and asked, "Do you fancy a cup of coffee? I'm about to have one."

"Yes, thanks." And he followed me into the kitchen and watched me make a couple of mugs of instant coffee, with little more than small talk about the weather.

When I handed him a mug, he sat on a stool at the breakfast bar, whilst I just leant against the kitchen units opposite. "OK, what's this about, Ralph?"

"It's about that letter that Molly sent you." He paused, "Look Chris, I never knew there had been a letter until you told me that day in my shed. No one had told me about it. But then, Susan couldn't tell me because we weren't meant to be interfering, were we?" There was a sharp edge of bitterness in his voice.

"Even if you'd known it wouldn't have made much difference. You might have stopped her sending it I suppose, that might have saved me some heartache, but the result would have been the same." 

"Well, anyway, I talked to Molly about it, or rather she talked to me about it when I asked how Tuesday night went. And it struck me as odd that you and Molly have such different views on it."

"I guess memory corrupts..."

Ralph ignored me, "So I asked Molly all about it. I don't know if she explained to you, but one afternoon, in desperation, she wrote you a long letter. Well, by chance Susan saw it, and read it, and told Molly it was an emotional scrawl and almost illegible, which was possibly true. Anyway, call me Mr Suspicious if you like, but as soon as Susan came into the picture I got worried."

"So did I. But Molly assured me she checked it and sealed it in the envelope herself. That's Susan-proof, on this occasion."

"Well, I wasn't surprised that Susan wanted to type it up. If you remember it was just after we got our first home computer. We've still got it, although I guess I really should buy a new one. I'd used computers at the office for years, of course, but it was all new to Susan. And she learnt, taught herself really, MS Word. And she was typing everything. She produced two beautiful ring binders of all her cake recipes at that time, each recipe in one of those plastic pockets so that they didn't get mucky as they were used. I think she typed everything then, it was her new toy. I suspect she even typed her shopping lists."

I smiled, and Ralph continued, "So, it was natural that Susan would want to type it up, especially if Molly's handwriting was a bit emotional, and they wanted to make changes. But, now this is the bit where I have an apology to make, I got nosey. So, I asked Molly if she had a copy and if I could read it, but she didn't. Anyway, last night I decided to check the computer. And there buried amongst the five years of letters to the bank and the gas company and the credit card companies, and letters about my pension, there was Letter-CB."

And Ralph produced three sheets of folded paper from his inside breast pocket.

"Now, please Chris, I know this may mean revisiting painful memories, but is this the letter you got from Molly?" and he handed me the three sheets.

I took one glance, their image was already burned into my memory. The first sheet with the address and date at the top. The second sheet with five paragraphs on it, and the third sheet with only one paragraph and Molly's sign off. I glanced at all three sheets briefly, and said, "Yes. This was it. For the life of me I don't see how Molly could have believed that this would solve anything." 

"No, Chris. I'm sorry. I want you to read it properly, and tell me if you are certain it's a copy of the letter."

I looked at him, I didn't want to do this, but he just looked at me and waited. Eventually I read every hurtful, painful word. And I put it down on the work surface.

"Yes. That's the one. Are you going to tell me that Susan was clever enough to get those words past Molly, without Molly knowing? I know she was emotional and depressed, but that would make her plain stupid."

Ralph handed me a second set of three pages, "And this is the letter that Molly wrote."

I took it from him, and he added, "I've had Molly check it this morning, and she swears that's the letter she wrote, just like you swear the other one is the letter you received."

There was a pause while I read this new letter. It was basically in the same format as the first. There were now six paragraphs on the second page. But the third page was the same vanilla ending as the earlier version.

When I finished reading, I looked up at Ralph. I could feel tears pricking my eyes. What I had in my hand was a desperate plea from a desperate woman, seeking a chance to make amends, to be able to put our family back together at any cost. 

"If I'd have received that, I'd have been knocking at her door half an hour after the postman had delivered it to me. I really would."

"I know. I know. And I'm so sorry that you didn't get it."

For a moment we just looked at each other. I'm not sure who was closer to tears. 

In the end, Ralph asked, "What do you notice about the two letters?"

I held them in my two hands, "Her real plea for a second chance is all focused in one short paragraph on the second page, which was deleted in my version. Otherwise, in words they aren't that far apart. 'That special afternoon' that I got was 'that dreadful afternoon' that Molly wrote. The changes are small, but powerful."

I looked at the letters again, I noticed that 'I love you' had become 'I thought I'd loved you'.

I looked at Ralph. "I guess this was Susan's doing, but how?"

"Look at the third pages."

I did so, "They are both the same."

"Exactly. I've talked to Molly, I reckon that Susan took Molly her version, all typed up and neat, and Molly checked it and signed it. She then put it in an envelope that Susan had brought with her, already addressed, sealed it up and put a stamp on it. Then Susan volunteered, and Molly says this is what happened, that Susan would post it on the way home."

Light began to dawn, and I completed the story, "And all she had to do was open the original. Swap the two first pages with the horrid version, still with Molly's signature on the third page, pop it back in a new envelope with a new stamp, and it's all done."

Ralph nodded, "That's my guess. And the letters are so close in many ways that you and Molly could talk about them, with completely different views on the meaning, but never realise. Ninety percent of the words are identical. In fact, you and Molly have discussed them without realising."

I drank my coffee, while there was silence between us, then I said, "Bit of a risk, but she got away with it."

"What else could she do? With Molly determined that she was going to write to you."

Again there was a long pause. I looked at Ralph, "You once described my ex-wife as a stupid dumb cunt." Ralph smiled, and I asked, "Do you mind if I call your wife an evil selfish bitch?"

He smiled again, but grimly, "At the moment you could put it on her headstone as far as I'm concerned."

I drained my coffee, and asked, "How's Molly taken it?"

"What would you expect? Shell-shocked. Disgusted. At the moment, she says this is the last straw. She's saying that she doesn't want to see Susan ever again. She's disowned her. In fact she thought she might write her a letter to tell her that. At least she could see the funny side of that, she thought she might apologise if it was an emotional scrawl."

There was a long silence whilst I absorbed the story. Then I asked, "Do you fancy another coffee. I think I'm having one."

"No thanks."

I turned to switch the kettle on again, and make myself another mug of coffee. As I went to the fridge for the milk, I asked over my shoulder, "And what will you do?"

"I'm seeing her tomorrow for lunch, at a pub just outside Blandford Forum. I thought I might lay out both versions and just see what she says. If she hasn't got a very good explanation, or that she doesn't apologise and convince me that she is truly sorry, well, I reckon any solicitor or judge would see it as unreasonable behaviour, don't you?"

I recognised the phrase. I turned slowly, "Divorce? Are you sure? How long have you two been married?"

"Thirty seven years in September. But yes, divorce."

I finished making my coffee and looked at him.

Ralph looked out of the window for a few moments, before turning back towards me, "Over the last few weeks whilst I've forced her to stay down in Weymouth, I've been giving our marriage a lot of thought. What is it, beyond a comfortable habit? She has absolutely no interest in the garden. I have no interest in her cake circle, making cakes for any old charity that wants to hold a coffee morning or a bring and buy sale. We go out for a country pub lunch once or twice a week. We see each other over the dining table and talk about the day's headlines or Jamie and Ben. We watch television in the evenings, but don't really talk. She has no interest or willingness to travel, and yet some of my life's ambitions are to see some plants in their natural habitat. We sleep in the same bed, and occasionally have sex. But that's about it."

"But it was enough."

"Yes it was. But now I've got to face a woman everyday over that dining table who was a secretive, evil selfish bitch, to use your words. I don't think I want to do that."

"I'm sorry. I never envisaged this, and I never wanted that to happen to you and Susan. What does Molly say?"

"She doesn't. I haven't told her yet. I don't think I'll tell her until I've finally made up my mind, but Susan's got to do something pretty radical to drag me back from the inevitable."

For a while Ralph was asking my advice on what would happen with the financial settlement in any divorce. He knew he would have to split their current wealth fifty-fifty, and that would mean selling the house. What worried him was just how big a slice of his pension would Susan win.

When we'd talked about that for some time, I asked, "You don't fancy a pie and a pint do you? I've got a new local, and I haven't tried it yet. I assume we can get something for lunch there."

"I'd love to." Ralph cheerfully accepted.

Once we had ordered our lunch and got our pints, we found a table to sit at. Ralph sipped his pint and looked at me, "You know I think this is only about the third time you and I have actually gone to the pub together. Peter was always wanting to take me to the pub, I guess he knew I was the one who he had to win over."

"You're not a bad judge of character. Tell me about Peter. What's he like, or going to be like in the next few months?"

He shrugged, "He's very easy going, at least on the surface. Very clubbable."

I smiled, "Can I volunteer to do the clubbing?"

Ralph laughed, "You know what I mean. But somewhere I always got the vibe of an immature person below all the very well honed social skills."

"What do you mean? What makes you think that?"

"From what I've learnt over the years, I don't think Peter discovered women until quite late in life, not until he was well into his twenties. Before that, I think he was what I would call a swot, and Jamie would probably call a nerd or a geek. But once discovered, I think he set about making up for lost time. I think there were quite a few notches on his bed post before Molly came along..."




Back to Bristol Ch. 14



Just then, our food turned up, but between mouthfuls, Ralph continued, "...Anyway, when your decree nisi had been declared, he used to come and collect Molly from our house some evenings. When we were babysitting by having the boys to stay with us. I guess a lot had been going on before that under Susan's conductor's baton. But anyway, I always felt I was answering the door to a young schoolboy. It was like when Molly was seventeen, and the first boyfriends started appearing. There was an immature earnestness to him. It was as if Molly was his first true love. He just seemed all keyed up and obsessed."

"I remember that feeling. Oh for the innocence of youth..." I responded.

Ralph paused, and looked at me, chewing thoughtfully, "Well, add the sophistication and money of adulthood to how you were. How did you react when your first true love turned you down?"

"She was Yvette Cooper, and she told me that Charlie Taplin had asked her out, and she was going. I was devastated. I could have murdered both of them, just to show her how much I needed her." I paused, "If you're right, God help us. He could do anything."

"Well, he is also highly intelligent and a little more mature than you were then. But, I wouldn't be surprised if he gets very upset, and doesn't play by mature and sensible rules. I hope I'm wrong. Maybe he'll go away defeated. He must know that he's a lost cause."

"Yes. He was the one that accused her that she loved me. So he knows, in his heart, the true story. Let's hope he acts sensibly."

After that, we finished our lunch and then strolled back to my flat. But Ralph didn't come in, he got in his car and went home. As he drove away, I realised that he hadn't asked me what I was going to do, not that I could have told him. But I was grateful that he hadn't asked. 

I went in and watched sport on the television, until it was time to change and head for Piers' and Jeanette's home in Bath.

On my way to Bath I did manage to stop and buy a huge bunch of flowers for Jeanette, and far more important, with a minor detour, I was back at my whisky shop, where I bought half a dozen miniatures of what I hoped were fairly unusual malt whiskies.

When I arrived, and after the initial welcome, when Piers marked each of my six little miniatures out of ten, and I scored a total of forty-seven, we went and sat down. Jeanette announced that, although she wanted to know every detail of my story, we weren't going to talk about that until we sat down to eat. So, instead, I got a complete gin and tonic's worth of Edward including photo's, the joys of grandparenthood, and how his other two grandparents were doing everything wrong, but I was let off the video.

But almost as soon as we sat down to eat, Jeanette just said, "OK then, from the top...."

I looked at her, "But I know Piers has told you almost all of it...."

"Yes. But he's a scientist. He only tells me the facts. He never tells me about the look in someone's eye, the inflection in the voice, all the important things."

And so, with Piers sitting there between us, I told Jeanette everything as best I could remember it. I just hoped he wasn't too bored, but it was him that prompted me on a couple of things, which did help explain things to Jeanette. It took all the first course and a very large part of the main course before I'd finished. The only bit that I didn't talk about was the details of Molly's story of her limiting their sex life inside her marriage. I did say that she limited it, but I drew a veil over exactly how. For some reason, I seemed to respect Peter's privacy when I was talking to his boss. Jeanette had asked a couple of questions, but I got the impression that hearing the story told my way, in my words, from my lips, was very important to her.

I finished with telling as much as I knew of Peter's and Susan's collusion, and of Susan's lies and manipulation, ending with the story of the letter. Afterwards there was a long silence. When I'd finished Jeanette just said, "Tell Molly to phone me. I'd like to meet her and talk to her. It's time to mend my fences with her."

I was surprised, "I thought you had problems with adultery? And whatever the circumstances, she still cheated on me. But I am very pleased that you said that, and I will certainly tell her. You know that she doesn't know why you and they split? Peter never explained it."

Jeanette smiled, "Then I can leave her thinking it was Peter, not her, which is mainly sort of true." She paused, "But you're right. I'm the daughter of a Presbyterian minister and still a regular churchgoer. With very few exceptions in some grey areas, adultery is wrong and unacceptable to me." She paused to look directly at me, "And that includes you with Molly a few weeks ago. But I'm also a daughter of the manse who was taught to take a tolerant view of people's mistakes, and to forgive those who trespass against me."

There was little said after that, until Piers had finished serving the dessert, when he asked "Can you forgive her, Chris? Do you want to, or even to try?"

"Actually, that stupid moment of lust seems quite minor in my thinking at the moment. Mind you, I have found that things keep changing in importance. What was important last week is minor this week, and vice versa. But I don't think I've ever thought that one moment's stupidity, especially fuelled by alcohol or circumstances, should be allowed to ruin a family or a good marriage. Instead, it's something to be got over, recovered from." I paused and smiled, "Maybe it's the nearly five years since that's taken some of the sting out of it. Maybe it's that I've had too many lousy lustful moments with the wrong person in the intervening years that has lent me some tolerance, some understanding, but that isn't my problem at the moment." Again I paused, and realised that both Piers and Jeanette were listening intently, "I'm not saying that I don't mind, I don't like the idea of my wife cheating on me...."

Piers asked, "If you'd known then what you know now, would you have forgiven her?"

"That I can't answer. In theory, I'd like to say Yes. But I was so hurt, so angry, I don't know that my rational mind would have won."

Jeanette seemed to take a different tack, "Was spontaneous sex part of yours and Molly's life? You don't seem to be the sort of people for Thursdays and Saturdays, after the ten o'clock news and with the lights off."

I smiled, and was grateful for her blunt question. She wasn't politely shying away from sensitive areas, and I liked that. "Yes. I mean you have to be a little more circumspect with two young boys around. But before they came along....Yes."

"Yes. So for Molly it wasn't surprising to suddenly want sex with the right man at the right moment. It was just that it was the right moment, but the wrong man. But then we know he'd worked very hard to be The Man at that moment..."

I smiled, I liked her choice of words. "You could say that..."

Piers looked round the table, "Why don't you go and sit down comfortably, and I'll get some coffee."

And that's what we did. Jeanette asked another very basic question whilst Piers was in the kitchen, "Do you still love her?" But I couldn't give her a proper answer on that. I tried to explain how I felt about Molly, that surely some of my love for her has not died, but I really couldn't separate out my current feelings from memories, and the hurt and the anger still, and loyalty to the mother of my sons. It was all too muddled.

It was the natural break of Piers returning and pouring the coffee that brought that wandering, unintelligible explanation of my feelings to an end. But then Piers sat back and asked, "OK. So what are you worrying about this week then? What stops you trying to see what's left?"

I sighed thoughtfully, this was the question I needed to be asked, but I wasn't sure how to answer it. Eventually, I tried, "I know that Susan used every trick in the book to make the fault line between Molly and me a permanent feature. And I know that Susan and Peter worked in some sort of collusion to trap Molly into that new relationship. But, I still can't get over that she allowed it to happen. I can't help feeling that there must have been some part of her that wanted it to happen as well. And if that's true, then maybe we are where we are, not because her true love has broken through at last, but because her second love just didn't work out quite as well as she hoped."

I looked at Jeanette. I knew I wanted her thoughts and not a clinical analysis from Piers. Jeanette knew Molly, and maybe a woman's view would give me something new.

Unfortunately it was Piers who started to answer, "Surely, that's a matter of trust. You either believe her and trust her, or you don't...."

But Jeanette interrupted, "No. I don't think that's what Chris is worried about, is it? Not really? It's that you can't reconcile the way she behaved then with the woman you thought you knew and maybe even the woman that seems to be around now?"

I felt relieved, "Yes. That's it exactly. I can't see a rational explanation for what happened after her moment of stupid lust."

We all sipped our coffee in silence. Then Jeanette turned to Piers, "Maybe it's like Claire after Roger's death?"

Piers shrugged, and Jeanette turned to me, "Roger and Claire were neighbours of ours in our first family house. Claire was an accountant by training, and Roger worked for one of the big banks, in their corporate loans department I think. Their garden backed on to ours, and they were similar age and had two children like us. Only theirs went girl boy whilst ours went Fraser then Ester. We weren't that close as friends, but we got along OK. Anyway, one day Claire knocked on my door in tears. I think I was the only one around when she needed someone. Roger had gone into hospital for a couple of days for some tests. He was thirty one at the time, and that morning the doctor had seen them both and told them that Roger had cancer..."

I interrupted, "I'm sorry, Jeanette. And I know you think this story maybe relevant, but I had Myra Hepsted giving me little anecdotes of other people's lives the other day to argue a point. I was hoping that, as you know Molly quite well, you could just tell me if you think she was just dumb enough to do what her mother told her to do."

"I didn't really know Molly then. Not well. I guess Peter didn't introduce us until he had almost got her to the altar, or at least the Registry Office. But, I think you've got to let me answer your question in my own way, as best as I can."

"OK. Sorry." I said and sipped my coffee.

"Anyway, what followed was two years of Roger fighting the Big C. Operations, chemo, radiotherapy, love, recuperation, long holidays, you name it. And then, after about two years, the doctors said they were sorry, but there was nothing else they could do. He had about two months left, and they got him into a hospice. And he died seven weeks later."

I did a quick calculation, "So he was thirty three. I'm sorry. That is young, too young."

Jeanette continued, "Yes it is. Well, you can imagine, everyone rallied. Poor Claire's freezer was brimming over with casseroles. And her children were taken on every day trip any neighbour was taking. But, after the nine day wonder died down, it seemed that I was the only one taking a real interest. Claire's family lived miles away. Anyway, I did my bit, and checked up on her every day, and tried to make sure she ate properly, and that she was looking after the children. And I let her talk and talk and talk, because that's what she needed to do. And that went on for weeks."

"OK." I said, still not seeing where this was leading.

Jeanette smiled, "Stay with me. There is a point to this story. Then I began to notice that if she said she didn't know what to get the children for supper, and I said my lot were only going to get pizza because I hadn't had time to cook properly, then the next day I'd find out that her two got pizza. If I said that Piers and myself were going to watch Morse on the television that night, then you could bet on it that Claire would watch Morse. She started attending my church, although I'd been careful not to invite her, I didn't want to push my religion onto her. She had become totally dependent on me, she was incapable of thinking for herself. I don't think she knew she was doing it, and it was all quite scary."

"You really were shaken by it, I remember." Piers observed, "I told you to go and talk it over with our doctor."

"And I did," Jeanette continued, "And I went to see the people at the hospice where Roger had died. They said it wasn't at all unusual, and that she needed professional counselling."

"And did she?" I asked.

"Yes. I used these very powers of influence that I seemed to have to get her to see a proper bereavement counsellor. And that did the trick. A year later she moved to live nearer her family. A few years after that she met another man, and now she's happily married to a farmer in New Zealand. On her last Christmas card she said she runs the farm holiday side of their business. She has four fulltime staff and twenty-one part time staff under her. There is nothing wrong with her mental abilities, there never really was."

Piers sat forward, "She was shocked and grief-stricken. She had two years warning that Roger might die. She had seven weeks notice that it was definitely going to happen. And yet, when it did happen she became totally dependent on a friendly neighbour. Molly went from being a happily married wife and mother to a single parent where her partner now hated her, or so she thought, in the space of a couple of weeks. And she turned to the one person in the world who she thought she could trust, her own mother." He paused, and then added, "And Claire knew that it was an act of God. Molly knew that it was all her own fault."

Jeanette turned to me, and looked me in the eyes, "I don't know what Molly was like in those days. But is it possible that, in her way, she became totally dependent on her mother? In my opinion it is well within the bounds of possibility. And she herself probably doesn't know how dependent she really was. But you know her, Chris, you'll have to make up your own mind."

After that I was probably pretty lousy company. But Jeanette and Piers didn't grumble. I was deep in thought. The only real decision I came to was that, whereas before I was shocked and disgusted at what Susan had done to Molly, now I was beginning to take on a personal hatred for what she had done to me.

At some point, Piers had slipped a small glass of whisky onto the table in front of me. "It's my Highland Park. You look as if you could do with it."

I smiled and took it and sipped it, "I'm sorry. I seem to have a lot to think about."

Not long after that, with very grateful thanks to both Jeanette and Piers, I said my farewells. 

I was almost out of the door when Piers said, "Well, if there's anything we can do, then let us know. It can't be easy."

I smiled, probably fairly weakly, "Thanks."

"And anyway, we've got to continue your education in the true religion, the gift of my forefathers to the world."

Now I did smile, "You just want to get your hands on my Balvenie."

As I drove home, I seemed to feel that I had got to make-your-mind-up time. That I knew everything that I was going to know about Molly and what happened. 

On the Sunday I put my bike on the back of my car and drove out into Somerset. I parked and quietly cycled. This time I was very careful not to over do it, and I stopped several times, three times at very pleasant pubs, but I only had alcohol at lunchtime. But whilst cycling along the country lanes I had time to think. And that's what I needed to do. It was up to me to decide, did I want to try and build some new relationship with Molly, or do I just walk away but have my boys at the weekends?



Back to Bristol Ch. 15



As I drove to Molly's on Bank Holiday Monday morning I had my day planned. I would take the boys out to Longleat Safari Park. And then, when I got back, I would ask Molly if we could talk. Maybe, I'd go out and get a Chinese or something for after the boys have gone to bed. Then we could have a serious talk about talks. About how we might structure some meetings where we could talk about all that's happened, and what we wanted in the future, sort of counselling sessions without a counsellor. I wouldn't commit to anything else, no romance, no sex, just serious talking. And I would make it clear that our best hope was that we could come out of it as friends, true friends. No more and no less.

I knocked on Molly's door as quietly as a could, I had no idea whether Peter was just the other side of the window. She answered it and she was looking good, better than I'd seen her for some time. She was just wearing a pretty cotton blouse and a pair of linen trousers, but she looked fresh and wholesome, and yes, sexy.

I looked sideways at the gym, she smiled, "It's OK. I think he's gone to Wales for the weekend. He's gone anyway."

"Good."

"I haven't told them where you're taking them. But I'm sure they'll love it. The weather looks good for a day out...."

Just then, Jamie came out, and I said, "With help from your Mother, we reckon your other zoo was Longleat. I thought we could go there for the day. How does that sound?"

He looked at me, and then took an earpiece from his Ipod out and said "What?"

"You don't say: What? You say: I beg your pardon." And I repeated myself, by which time Ben had joined us.

Jamie looked pleased, but it was Ben who said, "Is Mummy coming?"

I looked at Molly, and I thought: Well why not? And I said, "Yes. Of course Mummy can come, if she wants to."

Molly's face lit up. "I'll just pick up my things." And she turned back into the house. The boys and I started to walk back to my car in the parking area, and we were almost at the car when Molly caught us up.

It was the ever-direct Ben who said, "If Mummy's coming, can we go in her car? It's better in the back than yours Dad."

I looked at her, "You'd have to drive. My insurance won't cover your car."

"Not a problem" she said and we headed towards the garages.

As she drove along, I wondered if I'd just done the right thing. Would I be able to get through the day without conceding to the meaningful, questioning looks, and the pregnant pauses that I suspected I was about to be subjected to? But with luck, two boys would keep us from having a proper conversation.

"I had dinner with Piers and Jeanette last night." I said, to make some neutral conversation.

"Oh Yes? How are they?"

"They're very fit and well, and they're grandparents."

"Ester's had her baby. What was it?"

"A little boy, called Edward."

"And are they pleased?"

I laughed, "Pleased isn't the word...." And we chatted happily about the McBaines, grand parenting, and even malt whisky.

Then I remembered, "Jeanette said you were to give her a call. She'd like to see you."

Molly's face fell, I could see that even as she drove along, looking straight ahead. "It's alright. I've told them everything. Or nearly everything. I kept it clean. But they know all about Peter and Susan's little games."

"What did they say about that?"

"Nothing actually. Now you come to mention it, they didn't really criticise either of them. But I don't think they approved."

I glanced into the back, from whence strange noises were coming. Jamie was totally absorbed with his Ipod, and there was a regular Pshoosh Pshoosh coming from his corner. Ben was playing some electronic hand held game, with occasional Pings and Dong-Dong-Dong-Dong noises. I think Molly and myself could have discussed anything we liked without being overheard, as long as it didn't include any sexual or swear words, for which little boys seem to have radar.

I decided to at least ask after Susan, "How do you feel about what she did?"

Molly's face clouded, "Who? I don't have a Mother, or not anymore."

I laughed, and she glanced sideways at me, "I mean it. I honestly don't think I want to know her. Even if she apologised, I don't think I could ever forgive her. I've thought about it a lot, I really think I'd be happier if I never see her, never have to talk to her, ever again. I don't know how I'm going to deal with her when she comes back to Bristol."

I thought about telling her that her parents were likely to get divorced, but decided that it was not my job. So all I said was, "Cross your bridges when you come to them."

"Yes. Maybe Ralph could just come to visit me and the boys without her."

I knew how deeply she felt about this, and I must say I wholeheartedly agreed with her, but it seemed so sad, and possibly damaging in the future. 

It was an hour's drive, but we were sitting in the queue to get to the ticket office when Molly turned to me, "Chris, you'll have to forgive me today if sometimes I seem a bit quiet. I've got used to living with moments of sadness in the last few years, when I felt guilt or sorrow at what happened. But this'll be the first time when I've been with you when I'm likely to get sad at something I did with Peter."

I gave her knee a squeeze, "It's OK. Just talk about it, and then leave it all behind."

She smiled weakly, "I can't leave it all behind until I've put it right." 

Here we go! I thought, the start of the campaign for today. So, being a devout coward, I got out of the car to go and buy a ticket at the ticket office.

When I got back to the car she seemed brighter, and we had a really good trip through the animal enclosures. Jamie even took his Ipod out of his ears, so it must have been good. We didn't get many monkeys or apes climbing over the car, and not from lack of wishful thinking by the two boys. In the lion enclosure we did have a beautiful lioness decide she'd take a stroll down the road just in front of our car, which pleased our back seat passengers.

After we'd finished all the animal enclosures, we drove around to the car park where I had words with Jamie as to how he could leave his Ipod in the car whilst we had lunch and enjoy the afternoon. Having won that one, we went off to find somewhere to eat.

The boys were well ahead of us when Molly said, "I like it that you tell Jamie off when necessary. Peter was always scared to do so. It was always me that had to say No. He said that they were my children, and my responsibility. I think it was more about him not wanting to be disliked."

I just said, "He's my son, I care about him. And I care about us as a family."

"So where are you in your thinking about how to put it back into some sort of order?"

I watched the boys and judged our walk, I guessed we had five minutes before we got to the restaurant, "Well, I've been thinking about suggesting that we meet regularly, say two nights a week, to talk. Just talk. Well, maybe we could eat as well. But to talk about what happened, what we felt, what we want. Anything and everything, I guess. But semi-formal talking, across a table or facing each other in easy chairs." 

I glanced at her, but she was just listening intently. "We could use my place. I'm sure Ralph could baby-sit for some of the time, and maybe you know of a suitable babysitter, I'd pay." Again I paused, but she still didn't react, so I added, "It's only an idea. What do you think?"

She looked at me, "No counselling?"

"No. I thought I'd made that clear. It doesn't appeal to me at all."

"Would you mind if I talked to a counsellor in parallel? It's just that I seem to be carrying such a lot of baggage, and I'm very tempted to talk to Heather."

"Not a problem. If you think it'll help, then go for it."

"OK. What do you think these talks would achieve? There is no point in doing anything if you don't know what you're trying to achieve."

"What I said before, that somewhere along the line we find a way of forgiving, of being friends, of being able to get on with our lives."

She stopped and turned towards me, "Then, No."

Now that was a surprise. I wasn't surprised about the idea of a counsellor and I could have lived with her wanting to change the frequency, or the location, or putting something out of limits. But not a simple No? "Why not?"

"Well, you've been very clear as to what you want. So, I'll be very clear. I'm not prepared to put in a lot of effort, accept what will probably be fairly painful in parts, for an objective that I don't want. I love you, I always have. I won't start something that doesn't give me the opportunity to win you back. You may be looking for friendship, I'll be looking for partnership and a lover. I want my husband back."

"You've got one of those at the moment." I said, and immediately regretted it. "I'm sorry, that was cheap." I glanced round, "Come on, we'd better catch up the boys."

There are times when you can do nothing right. In the restaurant, I was just explaining to Ben that he couldn't have a burger again, when Molly caught us up. She whispered to me, "Go on, let him. We're on a fun day out, and they are proper burgers made from proper beef. In fact I think I'll have one as well." At that point, Jamie chose burger as well, so we ended up with all of us having them. And they were very good.

At lunch, it was Ben who looked up and simply asked, "Have you said you're sorry yet Dad?"

I looked up, "No. But I am."

Molly just had to ask, "You're sorry for what?"

"The boys have a theory, that if I say sorry for whatever I did wrong that split us up, then you'd divorce Peter and let me come back to live with you all. Apparently it worked for Dingo Roberts's Dad."

Molly turned to the boys, "It isn't your Daddy who should say sorry, it's me. He did nothing wrong, I did. And I hope, one day, that he'll forgive me."

That threw it back into my court. "And I want you two to realise that I really do hope that one day I can forgive your Mummy. But just because I get to forgive her, doesn't mean that we can all live together for ever and ever. But, both of us love both of you very much, and we will try to make sure that whatever happens you are loved and safe and see a lot of both of us."

Ben looked up, "I don't really remember you being at home, Dad. So it's not really a problem."

"I remember. It was before Mummy married Peter. And it was better, a lot better. And Mummy is divorcing Peter now....." Jamie suddenly looked at me, he was pleading with me with his eyes. But I don't know what he read in mine, but he tailed off, ".....Whatever..."

God! I felt lousy!

Of course, as soon as we'd finished eating the boys wanted to be off. So, I suggested to Molly that we find a seat in the sunshine, and let the boys run around on the grass for a while.

Once we were seated, I said, "OK. I don't think my idea closed off any opportunity for you, in fact I would have thought it would have given you opportunity. But let's put some more structure on it. Now, none of this is in tablets of stone, it is only an idea, but how about we meet on Tuesdays and Thursdays say at my place. That leaves the weekends free for me to see the boys, maybe sometimes that's family time and sometimes it just me and them, we could play that by ear. And it would mean that if we really wanted to get together as a couple, well the traditional Friday and Saturday nights would still be there."

"If you're not out enjoying yourself with no commitments. Or Myra doesn't need a dinner bought for her." Molly still sounded bitter.

"Leave Myra out of it. She is a friend and nothing more. I've told you that, and if you can't accept it, then why are we bothering?"

"Sorry." She said, urgently retracting.

"And as for the other bit, well I'll commit to you and this process, therefore excluding the other, until we get to some point where we both agree it's beyond hope."

She grimaced, "I suspect it's going to seem beyond hope so often. It isn't going to be easy."

"No. OK. Well, why don't we both promise that however rough it gets, and however the evening ends, we'll be there the next time come what may. Even if you storm out in tears, or I show you the door, come the next Tuesday or Thursday, we're back. Until we both agree that it isn't working, and we have to consider the alternative."

I paused, expecting a response, there wasn't one, "Look, just think about it. And you can see this Heather woman at the same time."

I sat and looked at her, she just looked back, searching my face for I don't know what. After a pause, I stood up and said, "Come on, lets go and see some of the other things while you think about it. I suggest that we do the house as the sort of last thing, the wind down. I believe there's a restaurant in there, in the cellars, that does cream teas. That should get the boys in." 

I looked round, Ben and Jamie were heading dangerously towards the edge of the lake, "Come on you two, let's go and see something else. Who wants to get lost in the maze?" 

The boys started heading back towards me, and I looked round for Molly. She was still sitting on the bench. I suddenly realised something was wrong and I ran back the short distance. She was sitting there, as I'd left her, but with tears pouring down her face, and shaking with huge sobs.

"Hey, what's the matter?" I sat down next to her and she sort of curled into me as I put an arm around her. The boys came up and just stood and watched, staring at their mother. 

I felt inside my pocket and found some coins, "Here, go and get yourselves an ice cream each." And I gave Jamie the money.

I just held her, "Come on, tell me. What's the matter? I just suggested a way forward, I thought it was what you wanted. Alter it, leave it a bit and think about it, and then change it. It really was only an idea."

She just went on crying, and I went on holding her. Eventually, I felt the sobs subside. And in a little voice, she said, "There was an advert on the telly recently. It was a woman crying her heart out in her husband's arms. Sitting on a seat like this. And there was a voice over talking about how devastating the news of having cancer was, having to say goodbye to your children, your loved ones. It was an appeal for research funds by one of the cancer charities. Only at the end do you realise that she is crying with happiness, that she's been given the all clear and she's in remission, that the threat has been lifted. That's how I feel, that maybe, just maybe, I can get my life back. That I have a chance."

I saw the boys coming back with there ice creams. "Come on. Blow your nose and put on a smile, we're meant to be enjoying ourselves."

She ignored me, but urgently asked, "You did mean it, didn't you? That we'll meet twice a week, just you and me, and that we can talk about anything? And that we'll keep doing it for as long as it takes? And that we can have some more family days like this? You meant it didn't you?"

"Yes. I meant it. Promise."

The boys arrived, and Jamie asked, "Are you alright, Mum?"

She looked at him, "Yes. I'm very alright. Your Daddy has said that he'll talk to me, and give me a chance to get him to forgive me."

"You'll have to say you're very, very sorry." Suggested Ben.

"Oh, he already knows that. But I was very, very naughty, and I hurt your Daddy very much. And he's very angry with me, but I promise you, I'll try to make him believe how sorry I am, and try to make him come home to us."

Damn! Now I'll be the bad guy when they don't get the fairytale ending. If she'd seen the look in Jamie's eyes at lunchtime, she would never have said that. She shouldn't have raised their expectations so much.

"He doesn't look very angry." Ben argued.

"No he doesn't. But I hurt your Daddy very, very badly, deep down inside. And it will take me a long time to convince him that I am really sorry, and that it is safe for him to come home to us. But I will, I promise you I will. And I don't want you to nag him, because it will take weeks and weeks to make it all better." She looked at me, "I promise you I will make it safe for you to come home, I will. I've got to."

I wasn't going to argue in front of the boys, "We'll talk and we'll see."

For the rest of the afternoon we did the rest of the attractions. For the maze we split into two pairs, Molly with Jamie and Ben with me. Jamie and Molly got to the centre first, and then got out first. Jamie swore that he knew the secret, so we had to do it again, only this time it was the boys versus the parents. And, sadly, it was the boys that won. Jamie had a most complicated theory, which seemed to have more to do with Harry Potter than logic, and certainly had nothing to do with Luck, which was my theory.

For the whole afternoon, being with Molly was like being with a besotted teenager. She couldn't stop smiling, and I don't think she took her eyes off me once. And when we walked side-by-side her hand dangled so conveniently, just in case I needed to hold it. 

By the time we went into Longleat House, I had to say something. "I feel like a pop star who's got a personal groupie. Ease up or I'll get embarrassed and run away."

I obviously couldn't say anything to upset her. She smiled, "Oh, it's just that I feel so excited, so frustrated. I want to grab you and kiss you and hug you, and I can't. I want to pop bottles of champagne and drink to our health and happiness."

"Well I never object to drinking champagne. But all we've agreed to do is start a process that will probably be the hardest, most uncomfortable thing we've ever done. And neither of us has any idea how it will end. You shouldn't be so hopeful with the boys. I'm sure they would love us to get back together, and I still don't think that's very likely."

She smiled, "It's guaranteed."

There was no arguing with her. So I didn't bother to try.

When we got back to their house, Molly and myself were in the kitchen whilst she got the boys something to eat, and generally chatting about our day, when there was a knock at the kitchen door.

Molly opened it, and there was Peter. He came in and immediately saw me. 

"Oh. It's you." He said, obviously disappointed.

There was an instant bad atmosphere, and Molly spoke first, "What do you want, Peter?"

He looked at her, "I was hoping that we could have that talk this evening." He glanced at me, "Before it's too late."

"There's no point."

"What's he doing here anyway? This is still my house and I don't want him here."

I thought it was time for me to at least say something. "We've just come back from a day out. I'm allowed to see my sons, even if they live in Molly's and your house."

"We all went to Longleat. Do you remember when we went before? When you 'won' a ticket in a raffle?" She asked.

I thought she made the word 'won' ring out around the room, and maybe, just momentarily, there was doubt in his eyes, but he just replied, "Yes. I remember. It was all those good times, all those good memories that we have that I wanted to talk to you about."

I wondered if Molly was going to let loose with his lies about the Longleat tickets and whatever else, but she just quietly said, "I told you, there is no point. I'm getting the boys something to eat right now. And Chris is here. I told you, I'd think about finding time for you to have your say sometime, but it is not right now."

"Later this evening, then? I'm sure he won't be staying long."

"Maybe I owe you your chance to say whatever it is that you want to say, but it won't make any difference. And it certainly isn't urgent. Now, please Peter. Just go."

"You're my wife. I love you. I won't be sent out of my own kitchen like this."

I was in two minds as to whether to say anything, but I did, "Molly has asked you leave. Perhaps it's best if you do. I'm sure you'll get your chance to say whatever it is that you want to say, but please leave it for now."




Back to Bristol Ch. 15



"I won't be told what to do by you. I'm her husband. This is my house." He glared at me, and his voice went up a notch, "I want you to leave. Now."

"No. I'm not happy for Molly's safety with you getting worked up. I'm not leaving until I've seen you leave, and Molly's locked the door behind you. I'm sorry. You'll have to find another time to say your piece."

We stood face to face, across the kitchen table for a long moment, and then his shoulders slumped.

He looked at Molly, "I would never hurt you. You know I wouldn't." and he walked out of the door, closing it loudly behind him.

I looked at Molly, tension was draining from her, "You've got to move out. You can't live here like this for the whole of the divorce process, it takes months."

She shrugged, "There's nowhere to go."

"I'll get Carole onto it in the morning. I'm sure we can find some furnished house to let for a few months. But going to stay with Ralph is still the obvious choice."

"I'm not going there. Susan will be coming back soon, I'm sure of it." She sighed, "I guess I'll have to get used to having to tolerate her, of being polite to her, but I really couldn't live under the same roof. I don't even want to be in the same room as her. I can't go there."

I thought: I'm going to have to see Ralph and get him to convince her.

"What state is the divorce in anyway?"

"As of Thursday, he still hadn't replied to my solicitor's letter. So she is drawing up the papers for me to divorce him. On the grounds of unreasonable behaviour. We had to be a little inventive there. His excessive sexual demands was the main one. He's going to end up with me divorcing him for him wanting something that I would give to you in a heartbeat. If only he knew, but he must never ever do so."

"Does she have any idea when he'll get the petition?"

"Well, she says the courts are being pretty efficient at the moment in turning those things around. I'm going in tomorrow afternoon to sign everything, she'll send it off to the Court, and I guess he'll get his copy around the end of the week."

"Then you've got to be out of here by then."

"Why? He's right, he would never hurt me."

I paused and chose my words, "I think there's something of the spoilt child about him. I reckon he could have an awfully big tantrum when someone takes his bag of sweets away."

She smiled, "Yes, there is a bit of little school boy in him. And he was a bit manic the other night, and probably could have worked his way up to being like that again tonight." She paused and sighed, "Maybe you're right. I'll think about it."

"Don't think, act."

She stood and looked at me for some moments, then I said, "I guess I should be going. He's probably timing me, and I don't want to make things even more uncomfortable for you. Will I see you at my place tomorrow evening?"

"Yes." She paused, "Tell me it scares you as much as it scares me."

I smiled, "Probably. But tomorrow night should be easy. I guess we need only talk about the ground rules, what's on our agendas, that sort of thing."

"I'll come over as soon as the boys are well on their way. Eight thirty or nine o'clock."

I gave her a kiss on the cheek and said I'd say goodbye to the boys, and then I'll be going. As I passed the gym I could see Peter standing watching me from the shadows inside. I just hoped that Molly had locked the door behind me.

I drove straight to Ralph's. He let me in and offered me a drink, which I declined.

Once we were seated in their lounge, I looked at him, "I agreed to talk with Molly today."

He looked at me, his eyes full of questions, "Good." Was all he said.

"I was hoping that you'd be able to help us a bit. I've suggested that she should come to my flat on Tuesday and Thursday evenings, so that we can talk about all that's happened, how we feel, what we want. But it means she'll be needing a baby sitter....."

"I'd love to. I'll talk to her."

I paused, then I asked, "How was Susan?"

"I wish I knew. I got to the pub early yesterday. Got myself a pint and got her a cider that I knew she'd want. And, as I told you, I laid out the two letters on the table and waited. All very dramatic. She arrived, I stood and kissed her and then we sat down. She looked at the letters, realised what they were, and just looked at me and said, 'I'm not proud of it, but I had to. Any mother would have done the same.' So I pointed out that not every mother would lie and cheat and fraudulently try to break up their own daughter's marriage. She said that Peter had fallen in love with her, and would make a far better husband than you ever would. You couldn't be relied on to put Molly and the children first in your career driven life. I said that was for Molly to decide and not her. I picked up the letters, I told her I found it totally unacceptable, and that if she wanted to put her own marriage right, then she'd better think about things. And I left. I didn't even finish my pint."

"So what are you going to do?"

"That's the bit I wish I knew. I've thought about nothing else since. It isn't easy to throw in the towel on a thirty year marriage. But I don't know what else to do. But visiting the solicitor seems so irrevocable somehow."

"Well, no one's making you."

There was a long pause, "I've been thinking that I might give her one more chance to at least to try to put things right. I thought I might book a straightforward holiday to Madeira. It is meant to be spectacular for flowers. And it's a simple one hop flight. International hotels with international cuisine. Nothing to threaten her at all. Now the best thing would be if she truly apologises, and says she's willing to come with me. If not then I'll go alone, and if she isn't willing to apologise when I get back, well then I'll have my answer, won't I?".

"I guess so. Do you think Susan will be coming back here anytime soon?"

He smiled grimly, "No. Or if she does, then I'll move out. Why?"

"Because I need somewhere for Molly and the boys to go. I don't trust Peter not to make her life a living hell in the coming weeks. I've tried to tell her that she's got to get out. I think she half agrees with me, but doesn't know where to go. I've said I'll see if I can find somewhere, but here is the obvious place. It's not as if she's running away, she just needs to be away from there. But she won't come here for fear that Susan is going to come back."

"I'll go and see her in the morning. I'll talk to her. I should tell her the state of play between Susan and me anyway. Don't worry, Chris, I'll do my best."

"Thanks, Ralph. It's not easy for any of us. It's all a bloody mess."

He gave a hollow laugh, "You can say that again!"

I left not long after that. And later I poured myself a nightcap and wondered. The day didn't go anything like my plan, but it probably ended up in about the same place. But I realised that I was going to have to put a lot of work in to lower expectations.

The next morning in the office, I beat Carole in. But when she delivered my coffee, with the diary under her arm, she asked, "How was your long weekend?"

"Good." And I smiled.

She stood looking at me for some time, then said, "There's a twinkle in your eye. There's been another instalment, hasn't there?" And she just sat down and waited.

I told her everything. Her face went pale and hard when we were talking about Susan and the letter, but beyond saying, with a lot of disgust in her voice, "The stupid woman" she didn't really comment. 

I concluded with, "So, Tuesday and Thursday evening are sacrosanct for the next few weeks."

Carole looked at me with a smile and one raised eyebrow, "And Wednesday and Friday mornings are unsuitable for early starts and breakfast meetings?"

"No. They are perfectly fine for early starts and breakfast meetings."

She looked disappointed, but "Oh." was all she said.

"How was your weekend, anyway?" I asked.

Her face turned glum, "Rick was in a bad mood. Some customer had been on at him for how long a job took and how much it cost. I think he'd happily give up the domestic plumbing trade and just work for builders on new houses. It doesn't pay as well, but he's only got a few years to go anyway. He's a bit older than me, you see."

"The job's alright if it wasn't for the customers, eh?"

She smiled, "Something like that." And she opened her diary....

She was back in my office late that afternoon, "Chris, it's half past five and you need to leave."

I smiled at her thoughtfulness, "No I don't. She's not coming round until half past eight at the earliest. It's only for an hour of serious talking, that's all."

Carole looked disappointed, and I suggested, "You could do something for me though. You could get me a couple of pads of paper and a couple of pens or pencils."

"You can't make it that business like! You'll tell me that I've got to be there to take the minutes next."

"I want to make sure that we talk properly. I don't want it to just dissolve into a kiss and make-up session, because that won't work and would be the last meeting we ever have." I looked her in the eyes, "Trust me."

She went off and came back with pads and pencils which she laid in my open briefcase. She looked at me, "It's up to you, Chris, and you must do it your way. But if you want my advice, it's about both of you, it has to be give and take."

I sighed, "You're right. It's because I'm so damned nervous. But, at least for tonight, I want to keep some degree of formality. And I want to get a list of all the aspects of the whole mess, so that we can make sure we talk about everything."

Even though I worked to six thirty, I was home with plenty of time to eat a micro-waved dinner, and have a shower. By eight thirty I was showered, shaved and dressed as the epitome of the modern, independent bachelor, but I could do a very good impression of a nervous wreck waiting my fate. I busied myself just checking that everything was set up correctly. I laid out the pads of paper and pencils on opposite sides of the dining table. I left the wine in the fridge, but I laid out glasses and a bottle of mineral water.

She arrived just before nine o'clock. She was wearing a light summer raincoat and looked good. As I kissed her on the cheek, I smelt the familiar perfume that I associated with her. "That's better. You smell right somehow."

She smiled, "Anais Anais. I had to go and buy it." 

As I looked questioningly at her, she continued, "I upset you by wearing a perfume that Peter had given me the other day. So I thought I'd better go and get the one you used to buy me."

"But I'd have sworn that you wore that on the first night we met after I came back here. When you came to the old flat to talk about the boys."

"I did. But when we had lunch that time I used the very last I had of a bottle you gave me. I remember saying to myself: not to worry, if everything goes right, he'll buy me a new bottle before the month was out. That was before it all went wrong that day."

"Anyway. Come in. Let me take your coat. Would you like a glass of white wine?"

As I took her coat, I realised that underneath she was wearing a dark blue skirt and a light blue blouse. I recognised the skirt as one she'd bought in my day. I used to think she looked great in it, but it was a bit short, it came about five or six inches above the knee. She hardly ever wore it, because she used to say it was too short for a wife and mother. That used to annoy me, she's had great legs, but what really annoyed me was that it was the same length as it was in the store. Why did she buy it if it was too short?

She said she would have a glass of wine, and when I came back from the kitchen with the bottle, I found her just standing looking at the table, laid out for our talk. She turned and looked at me, I couldn't read the look in her eyes, but she determinedly went and sat in one of the armchairs, turning her back on the table.

"I thought it would be helpful if we kept it a bit formal. It might ease the emotions a bit." I said as I poured two glasses of wine.

"I'm not here to negotiate a treaty. I'm here because you invited me to talk and build something new."

"Sorry." I answered, "But, I think I might like to take notes." I passed her a glass of wine, picked up a pad and pencil and sat in the other armchair.

"Before you start, Chris, I've got some news. I signed the divorce petition this afternoon. Now it's down to the Courts."

"You sound very matter of fact. Surely it was a bit emotional?"

"No, no it wasn't. Maybe it should have been, or it will hit me later, but it wasn't." She paused, but I couldn't see her trying to hide any emotion, and she continued, "Ralph came to see me this afternoon. He told me that he's really having difficulty getting used to the idea of what Susan did, and he's beginning to think about divorce. I really don't know what I think about that, my parents getting divorced because of the way she behaved when we got divorced. I know that I have a real problem with her, I'd quite like to hear that she's had a taste of her own medicine ...... is that really bad of me? ..... but I want him to be happy. And I don't know whether he'd be most happy reconciling with her and accepting what she did, or in divorcing her in disgust." 

"Well, I tend to think that people should keep out of other people's marriages. She should have kept out of ours, and we should keep out of theirs. But I won't be too upset if I don't see too much of her in the future."

"That's how I feel. But he's my Dad, and he's only tried to do his best." Tears began to well up in her eyes. 

"Come on, drink some wine and wipe your eyes. There's nothing you can do or should do about Ralph and Susan. It's all a bloody mess, but we're here to talk about our future, and as far as I'm concerned, that's far more important."

She wiped her eyes and smiled. As she did, I noticed that her breasts moved softly under her blouse, she wasn't wearing a bra. But whilst I had lustful thoughts, she continued, "Yes, it is. But it has one good side. Ralph says he's not going to let her come back until he's made up his mind. So, I can move out and go and live there, at least temporarily."

I smiled, I really felt relieved. "That really is good news. When?"

"ASAP. We thought tomorrow."

"Do you need help? If I can get time off, I will."

"No. Ralph and I can do it with a few trips in the two cars. But I do want to take everything that I value and want to keep. The rest, well he can keep it or sell it, whatever the settlement is."

That reminded me that I wanted to know what the financial settlement was going to be. I wanted the bastard to at least pay, preferably heavily, for his part in all of this. But, maybe tonight wasn't the night for showing my vengeful side. 

So, instead, I asked, "So, have you thought about what you want to talk about over these meetings?" 

She leant back in the chair, crossing her legs, and allowing my eyes to see up her skirt. I glanced up to her face, and suddenly realised that she knew what she had done and what effect it had on me.

She looked at me, "I'm happy for you to take the lead. We'll do whatever you want." And she uncrossed her legs and crossed them again, the other way around.

"OK." I smiled, "Well, for a start, I'd like you to do me a favour. Dress a little more conservatively for these sessions. Please."

She looked affronted, "But .... But I thought you'd like the way I dressed. It was you who always said that you liked me in this skirt, you used to say that I had good legs. I thought that if I wear this skirt...."

"With no bra? The only times I ever knew you to go without a bra was when you wanted something, or if I convinced you to do so."

She looked defeated now, "Oh! I'm sorry. I thought .... I hoped .... If only we could .... You know. Well then ..... everything would start to go back together between us."

"You think that our relationship was just sex? You know that's not true. OK, I'll admit it was an important part of it, and I guess it is at the heart of what went wrong, but just jumping into bed together won't solve anything." I paused, and smiled, "Even if it would be rather nice. In fact I can't think of a nicer way of spending the evening."

She looked rather ashamed, "You're right. I know you're right." She paused, obviously thinking, "But, I would like to wear slightly sexy, special clothes. I'm meeting the man I love, the man I want. I need to know that at least I'm looking good if I'm going to have to tear myself apart, and face my own worst emotions, and worst deeds."

"OK. I can hardly object to you looking good. But I wish you wouldn't use that word, that you love me." She looked hurt at that, but I continued, "I just don't see, how, after all this time.... Well I suppose if that's what you feel, and I suppose you should say what you feel, that's what these meetings are all about. But it doesn't make any sense to me."

There was a long pause, whilst we both drank some wine, and I topped up both glasses. Once I'd sat down I asked, "So what is there on your list to talk about?"

She looked surprised, "I thought this was for you to talk about whatever you want. I don't have any issues. I made the most dreadful mistakes, I'm guilty and mystified at how I acted, but that's what I'll be seeing Heather about. This time is for you." 

"So you don't want to know about Helene? Or what my relationship to Myra was all about? Or why I never came to find you when we split? Or what I did before I met Helene, or even just where in the world my travels took me?"

"Oh! Yes. Some of that plagues me, but I thought I didn't have any right to ask."

"No. The point of us meeting is so that you can ask all and every question you have. Although you may not like the answer to some of the questions I just suggested."

"Well, I want to know about all you suggested, except the one about why you never came to me. At about the two year mark that one really got to me. I went through a period where I was really angry with you, but then I realised that I never gave you any reason to try. I didn't mean to be so that you thought I was in love with Peter, but I know I might have given that impression. I'm sorry."

I was writing notes, "Anything else?"

"I guess I ought to think about it."

I looked at her, she was looking strained, and I know I felt strained. "We ought to do something about making these evenings a little easier on ourselves. Any chance that you could get here earlier?"

"Well, if we are living at Ralph's, I know that he'd happily feed and look after the boys. So any time you like."

I got up and went and got something from the drawer of a desk in the corner of the room. "Here's a key to this place. Let yourself in anytime you want. And we can eat here before we start. That might help and there is something deeply important about sharing a meal."

She smiled. "I'd like that. But you didn't tell me, what are your questions? You might as well write them down as well."

And for some time we worked on my list of ideas. She was quite constructive, and didn't say No to anything. At one point we got into an impromptu discussion on Susan and how she'd behaved. Molly told me that there were several times when Susan had talked her out of coming to see me, but only the twice that she'd already told me about where she had actually physically stopped her. 

I asked her, "Why? Why, for God's sake, did you let her talk you out of it?"

She shrugged, "I don't know. She seemed to think it was for the best. That you had to make up your own mind. I guess I believed her. It doesn't make sense to me either."

I shook my head in disbelief. "Is killing your mother matricide-in-law?" 

She smiled and said, "Well, I guess that's it for this evening, isn't it? Unless ....." And she crossed her legs again. But this time she was smiling and I knew she was joking.




Back to Bristol Ch. 15



I smiled, "Out of interest, how did you get out of the house without a bra on? Ralph would have noticed, and you wouldn't have wanted that."

"I took it off in the car." She paused, then looked up at me, "Do you remember when I confessed everything, and you said you couldn't have sex, because you were scared of your own emotions?"

"Yes. I remember."

"Well it got me thinking. When I married Peter, and after about six months I realised that he just didn't do it for me and never would. Well I went through a phase of reading what they called erotica for women." She looked at me and almost laughed, "Nothing too much over the top. Proper paperbacks from the bookshops. All very respectable, well almost."

"And?"

"And, I'd spend the odd afternoon reading, but with my hand in my pants. It was the only worthwhile sex I was getting. And I suppose it was those fantasies that started me off on fantasising about you, which kept me going for so long. Anyway, one of them was a bit S&M-ish. Quite a lot really. It was about the young girl, she was about twenty I suppose, falling in love with an older man who was into some quite heavy S&M. It wasn't my idea of fun at all. I'm not really sure why I bought it. But, one of the things was that he used to whip her, and she used to welcome it. It was her absolution for all she felt for him, for enjoying herself in ways that she shouldn't. Heavy Catholic guilt stuff, I suppose."

"Sorry. I don't do S&M. I thought about it on my travels. It had some appeal for a little while, when I hated you and all women, but I don't think it's really me."

"No? Good. But in a way, I've come to realise that I wouldn't say No to some sexual absolution. Maybe that's one of the reasons I do want to go to bed with you. For you to hammer into me, to make me yours again. For you to take me and use me, and mark me in some way, deep inside, so that I know, that I feel, that I'm your woman again. Can you understand that? Letting some of your emotions go, sexually, wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing as far as I'm concerned."

I felt I could answer her flippantly or seriously. I chose serious, "Well, I guess we'll see what happens, if and when anything does. But promise me, don't have great expectations. I don't like that pressure. And you must lower the boys expectations too. When we don't make it, I don't want to be the bad guy."

"I'm sorry, I know I was over the top yesterday. I've tried to reign back a bit already. I'll try having another word with them."

"See that you do." I said as I stood up. The evening was over.

After a fairly tense farewell, with so much being thought and not said, I got myself a whisky and sat and wondered what I thought of the night. I decided that, as far as I could tell, it went as well as I could have hoped.

The next day, Wednesday, Carole greeted me with an inquisitorial raised eyebrow.

I smiled and told her, "As well as could be expected. Pretty good, I guess. We talked, and I guess that's a start."

She smiled, "Keep at it. I'll bring you a coffee. And you're not going to get much chance to brood about it today. You're going to be run off your feet."

At one meeting, just after lunch, Myra was there. She came in and looked straight at me, "And what's your news?" 

I smiled at her directness, "We're talking."

"Good." Was her succinct reply.

That evening I phoned Molly, just to check that she had moved to Ralph's. And she had. Apparently it was a little more effort than she thought, and she did say it was a bit of an emotional wrench. Suddenly, what she'd been talking about was coming true. She was leaving the last four years behind. I guess any of us would have some thoughts on walking away from a marriage, however bad that marriage had been. I could understand that. Apparently, she just left a note for Peter to say she'd moved out, and had no intention of returning, so he was welcome to move back into the house. I wondered if I ought to warn Piers that Peter may be in a funny mood in the morning.

I then phoned Mum. She and Len were still enjoying themselves in Scotland. Over the next couple of days they intended to get up to John O'Groats, just to be able to say that they got to the very top of the mainland. Apparently they were still wondering if they'd take the ferry to the Orkney and Shetland Isles. But when I told them that myself and Molly were talking, I think the idea of doing much more in Scotland suddenly died. I had this feeling that I was going to see them back in Bristol in the fairly near future, although I made a great deal of the fact that we were only talking, and that it would take weeks before we would have any idea what was going to come of those talks.

On the Thursday I had two phone calls. The first was from Molly, who sounded a bit strained, but she only wanted to agree that I would supply the meal for us tonight. The second was from Ralph, who didn't want to interfere, but he felt that he should warn me that Molly was feeling a little emotional over leaving her home, and filing the divorce papers. As Ralph said, she has launched herself into an unknown future, you can't criticise her for looking over her shoulder and having a moment or two of doubt.

I had intended to try to focus tonight's conversation on Susan and Peter's collusion. I needed to satisfy myself that Molly was led into that marriage at a time when she was vulnerable and open to manipulation. But, having spoken to Ralph, I decided that I'd focus on gently trying to show Molly that Peter Davies was an immoral bastard who had ruthlessly chased and seduced a married woman. I thought it might help ease her conscience if she realised what sort of man she was leaving behind. And, I had to admit, I'd enjoy proving that he was what I thought he was.

On the way home I stopped off at the supermarket to buy dinner. I wanted something that was nice, but not too special. I wanted to have dinner, not to make an emotional statement. In the end I chose some cooked chicken and a variety of salads to be followed by cheesecake, and all with a decent bottle of wine.

Molly turned up not long after I'd got in. She was dressed very attractively, but I noted that it was not too provocative this time. But she did smell of that perfume, and that could have been provocation enough for me, if I'd let it. We had a glass of wine before we sat down to eat. I could see that Ralph had been right, she was looking strained. 

"You looked tired. Has it been hard?"

"I guess it's not been easy. It isn't helped by the phone calls from Peter. They started as soon as he got home from work last night and realised I'd gone. At first they were mystified, he couldn't understand why I'd moved out. Then they became angry, with him swearing at me for moving out before he's had a chance to talk. And finally, late last night, they went to pleading and crying."

"I guess that's to be expected. Does he know where you've gone?"

"Yes. I couldn't see any point in not telling him. And I wanted him to know that I was moving away from him, not that I was moving to you. But I feel so guilty. All his hurt, all his pain is my fault. I should never have married him. I've led him to this point."

"Well, if it's any consolation, to the best of my knowledge, he's been working normally."

"Yes, he said he'd go into work today. But he's moaning that you engineered that he's had a formal warning, which in his view was unfair because his absence was understandable in the circumstances and partly your fault."

"No. Neither of us has any responsibility for how he behaves. He's an adult. And he started this chain of events years ago when he chose to sit down with a married woman, and develop a relationship with her. Let alone his collusion with your mother."

She looked at me, rather sharply, and said, "It wasn't like that. He was just a nice guy and a friend. And you can hardly blame him for taking tips on me from Susan."

I decided to back off for a while, and I tried to keep the conversation fairly neutral. I told her a little about my work at Franks, and about how well I got on with Carole. We talked about when I might see the boys at the weekend, and she suggested that I come to Ralph's for Sunday lunch, it would give the boys a sense of stability in their new home. That led on to talking about the boys, and I again revived the idea that maybe, once this hiatus is over, that we could change them to go to private school. 

That idea led to an interesting bit of conversation, when she said, "Well, of course, they've got a trust fund, so it wouldn't be so expensive."

I was surprised, "What trust fund?"

She looked at me, searching my face in disbelief, "Oh! I'm sorry. I thought you knew, I put all the money that I received on our divorce into a trust fund for the boys. It didn't seem right that I took your money into a marriage to Peter. And since then, I've added to it, quite a bit actually. It's because you've always paid too much in maintenance, so I've taken what I thought was the profit on their true costs, and saved it in a deposit account, and then added it to their trust fund once a year." She paused and looked at me, across the dinner table, "I had no right to take your money for myself and Peter."

I was silent for a while, just sipping my wine. I wasn't really surprised, Molly always had a lot of integrity. 

Then I asked, "So what will the financial settlement of this divorce be?"

She looked up at me, "I went into a marriage with nothing; I shouldn't have agreed to marry him, so I'll come out with nothing."

"No. That's wrong. Whatever else, you gave him four years of your life. Maybe not love, but companionship, support, sex, and generally sharing your life. That's what he wanted, and he promised to endow you with all his worldly goods or whatever the civil ceremony says. You are owed half of your joint wealth, or at least the increase in your joint wealth in the last four years."

"He shouldn't suffer financially because I'm divorcing him. And anyway, a lot of his money comes from his mother. She left him quite a bit when she died."

She was becoming defensive, so I asked, "What was his mother like?"

She paused, probably surprised by my tangential question, but then she smiled slightly, "She was lovely. She was so proud of Peter, and so delighted that he'd met someone to settle down with. I think she was rather fond of me, and I liked her. Why?"

"No real reason. One of the boys mentioned her once, so I just thought I'd ask. When did she die?"

"About two years ago. That's when we bought the better house. And, of course, she left us the cottage in Wales."

"Where is it in Wales? I assume it's not very far as Peter keeps disappearing off to it."

"No. It's in the Black Mountains, or at the bottom of them really. Just north of Abergavenny, on a sort of round about way of getting to Hay-on-Wye."

"Oh. Pretty country. Can I ask, when did she write her will?"

She looked rather surprised, "About six month's before she died. She had to make some changes, as her sister died at that time, and it affected her old one."

"So, if I was your lawyer, I would argue that she knew exactly what she was doing when she left the money to Peter. She fully expected you to benefit by it, in fact she wanted you to benefit by it. You are entitled to your share."

"No. Peter's been hurt enough. It wouldn't be fair to take his mother's money off him."

"What exactly have you asked for in the divorce?"

She hesitated for a moment, and looked studiously at her salad as she answered, "I haven't. My solicitor said the financial settlement could be agreed later. That it was important to get the actual divorce petition underway."

"She knows you don't want to ask for anything, and she disagrees with you. Right?"

Molly stiffened, "We've discussed it and agreed to sort it out later."

I was becoming annoyed. I knew I quite liked the idea of hitting Peter where it hurts, in his wallet. But it annoyed me that she had either such a low estimate of her contribution to the marriage, or that she cared about him so much that she wanted to protect him. Either way I didn't like it. So, we ate in silence until we'd both finished our salads, and I had served the cheesecake.

I tried again, "I'm sorry, but I've got to come back to it, for Goodness sake Molly, have some self-respect. You put as lot into that marriage, you are entitled to take something out. Please."

"It's nothing to do with you. You're the one that says the divorce is necessary between myself and Peter, that it is nothing to do with us."

"True, it isn't. But you were happy to take half of our money when we divorced. You took that off me, although I'd done nothing wrong, you said so yourself. Now, you aren't going to take anything from Peter. You look after him better than you looked after me. How do you think that makes me feel?"

"I took it and gave it to your sons. I didn't take it for myself."

We ate our cheesecake in silence.

When we'd finished, I cleared the plates and asked, "Would you like a coffee?"

She looked at me, she looked even more tired than when she arrived. I guess she hadn't expected an argument. "No. I know we're meant to talk, but would you mind if I just went home. I don't think I want to relive parts of the last four years with you at the moment, and I certainly don't want an argument."

I kissed her goodbye, saw her to the door, and then poured myself a large whisky. 



Back to Bristol Ch. 16



Dispirited is the word. I was dispirited. Luckily, the Friday after my short meeting with Molly was a very busy day. So, I threw myself into work, and tried to make sure that I was as busy as possible. I noticed that Carole must have picked up on my mood, because she didn't say a word about her soap opera, but she just mothered me all day, making sure that she got me to every meeting on time, that I did return the important calls, and that I had a proper lunch.

One meeting in the afternoon included Piers, and as he came into the room he looked at me and said, "Chris, have you got a minute?"

I guessed this was going to be the latest news from the Peter front, and I was interested. My office was too full of people, but we found privacy in an empty boardroom.

Piers started as soon as the door was closed, "Peter came to see me this morning. I hadn't realised that Molly had moved out. But, apparently in this morning's post he got a set of divorce papers."

"How did he take it?"

"He is one very unhappy man. At the moment, the world is against him. And it's all your fault."

I smiled, "No surprise there then. Why can't he see that this is the consequence of his own doing. He shouldn't have tried picking up a married woman. And he shouldn't have inveigled her into marrying him with her mother's connivance. It was bound to end in tears, and lo and behold, it has."

"He doesn't see it that way. Has she moved in with you?"

I looked at him, "No." I paused, "But we are talking. We agreed we would talk everything through, and then see where we are, on Tuesdays and Thursdays."

"And how's that going?"

"Lousy. We met twice. Tuesday wasn't so bad. But last night we argued, and she went home early. Nothing dramatic, just a difference of opinion."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

I sighed, "Not now. Let's see how the weekend goes. And anyway, if I'm going to cry on your shoulder, I need whisky to mix with my tears."

He smiled, and I asked, "What's Peter doing?"

He shook his head, "I don't know. I suggested that he takes the day off, and that he goes and sees a solicitor. And I suggested that he might go off to his Welsh cottage for the weekend, that's where he seems to do his thinking. But whether he will or not, I don't know. He was still in his office when I left."

"Well it's his life, and it's up to him." I opened the door and started to head back to my office and the meeting, with Piers at my side, "As long as he doesn't make a nuisance of himself with me, Molly or the boys."

I worked on, Carole went home having had a very searching look at me, and then Myra came through my office door, with a file in her hand.

"Carole said you wanted the best projections for next quarter's figures."

I stopped and thought for a moment, "If I had wanted them I would have asked Trevor Gale."

"Oh." She said and sat down in a visitor's chair at my desk and looked at me.

"And did Carole say someone should be my friend?"

She smiled, "You don't miss a trick, do you? So, fancy a quick drink then? It is Friday night after all."

"I've got work to do. Help yourself to a whisky." I said, nodding my head towards the decanter.

"Not for me thank you. Come on, Chris, if you must do some more, then pack up some things to take home for the weekend, and buy me a G&T. I need one."

"Why?"

"Because I've got a depressed boss who's fast turning into a workaholic, and it worries me. I need someone to talk to about it all."

I laughed and admitted defeat. 

We went to the pub, but not for a long drink as Myra told me that Dr Will was coming up to Bath for the weekend, which put pay to my thought that I might invite her to dinner. In fact we hardly talked about Molly, I just told her that last night was a bit disappointing, and she told me to have patience. Other than that it was Will this and Will that. It was wonderful to see her so cheerful, but it did worry me slightly. I reminded her of a phrase she'd just used about Molly and myself, "Remember Myra, it's early days."

On Sunday I turned up at Ralph's house quite early. I'd hardly said hello to everybody when Ben dragged me off to see his new bedroom. He was sharing with Jamie, which I guess they wanted to do, as there was a fourth bedroom available. I guess the two brothers were drawing together in a time of uncertainty.

As I came down stairs again, Ralph looked at his watch, "Plenty of time before lunch, how about making it a fourth time?"

"Down the pub? No, I'm here to see the boys." I looked at him and he looked disappointed, so I added, "Unless, of course, we take Jamie and Ben."

He smiled, "Sure."

I went into the kitchen where Molly was making pastry, "Ralph has suggested that he, I and the boys should go down to the pub. Are you OK with that?"

I thought she looked relieved, "Sure. Be quick and be back for one thirty."

I kissed her on the cheek, "Are you OK?"

"Yes." She said in a tone that proved she wasn't. "I'm just feeling a bit harassed with the cooking at the moment."

"Well calm down. It won't matter if it's a bit late or one of the veggies is a bit overcooked." And I left her in the kitchen.

Ralph and myself collected the two boys and we headed for the pub. We took a table in the garden and I went and got the drinks. Of course the boys sat with us while they drank their drinks, and ate their bags of cholesterol. But after that they lasted about another thirty seconds before they were off. Their excuse was that someone came in with three large and very friendly dogs, so Ralph and myself were deserted.

Ralph watched Jamie and Ben leave, "Good. I wanted a word."

"About?"

"Tell me to mind my own business, but what happened on Thursday evening? It was obvious that she came home earlier than expected, and she wasn't in a good mood. She was very quiet and withdrawn. But she won't tell me what's wrong."

I considered things for a moment, "I'm sorry Ralph, but if she won't tell you, then I won't."

He looked at me for a moment, "Quite right. I should keep my big nose out of it." And he smiled. "But if it was anything to do with Him, well I think he's a bit of a sensitive subject at the moment. Poor little Peter, all hurt, and she feels sorry for him. But it was his only silly fault. Or his and my wife's."

"And how is your wife?" I asked, grateful for a way of changing subject.

Ralph took a long draught of his beer, and considered his answer. "I know what I'm going to do. Molly doesn't know this yet, but I've decided."

"Well, don't tell me if you don't want to. Are you still seeing her?"

"Not since the letter incident. She's phoned a few times, she can't see what the problem is. And I feel that it's one of those situations where if she doesn't see there's a problem, well that is the problem." He paused and looked at me, "She just makes me so angry. She even said that as you and Molly now know the truth, and can talk as much as you like, well that's alright then. What she did hasn't done any harm. I ask you, how fucking stupid is that?"

"I expect it's just a desperate argument. Anything to paper over the cracks."

He sighed, "Well, it won't work." He drained his pint, and looked at me, "Fancy another?"

"I do, but two boys probably fancy their lunch."

Why is it that everything seems to have emotional overtones these days? Back at the house, Molly had cooked a wonderful roast leg of pork. The last time she, I and the boys had sat down to roast pork was the Sunday before we broke up years ago, precisely three days after she'd screwed Peter Davies in his flat. 

I decided a frontal approach for once. "Do you remember the last time we sat down to roast pork?"

Molly looked at me across the table, "Yes. It was the first Sunday of the worst years of my life. I hope this is the first Sunday of the best years of my life." 

I liked her honesty. I remembered a phrase she'd used at Longleat, that maybe, just maybe, she'd get her life back. And for a moment I wondered if she might make it. But that's stupid, there's been too much hurt, too much has changed.

When we'd finished the meal the boys were up and off. Ralph told us to sit still and that he'd get us a coffee, because he wanted a word with us both.

As we sat at the table, I looked at Molly, sitting opposite me. She had been brighter whilst we ate our lunch and had chatted, but now the cloud of doom seemed to have descended on us again, "Come on, Molly. Something is obviously wrong. What is it?"

Molly looked at me, searching my eyes, "You won't be angry?"

"I don't know. Tell me what it is and I'll tell you."

"The solicitor phoned on Friday. She said Peter would have received his copy of the petition on Friday or Saturday. And I haven't heard a word. I guess I'm worried about him, I fully expected a broadside."

"Well, Piers told me he got it on Friday morning. And he was upset but OK. And Piers told him to go and see a solicitor, and then suggested that he goes up to Wales, as that's where he goes at times like this. So maybe he has. And, no, I'm not angry." I reassured her.

I also thought: I'm not particularly pleased that you're fretting over him either, but I can understand it, so I'm not angry. 

Just then Ralph returned with a tray of coffee. Once that had been served and Ralph had resumed his seat at the head of the table, he looked at both myself and Molly, "I want to talk about Susan."

I sipped my coffee and waited. I noticed that Ralph was talking to Molly rather than me, I guess I was only there to support, if Molly was upset with whatever was coming.

"We've met seven times in the five weeks I've refused to let her come home, and I've talked to her on the phone plenty more times as well. She shows no signs whatsoever of understanding that what she did was wrong. Her value system is totally wrong as far as I'm concerned. On top of which, she treats me as if I'm some little boy that's having a tantrum over a broken toy, and that I'll calm down and accept things sometime soon. She is becoming impatient, she just wants to come back here and get on with her life."

"Daddy..." That was the first time I heard Molly call Ralph Daddy for years, "Don't do anything silly on my account. Please. I hate her at the moment, but ...."

Ralph squeezed her hand, "I'm not, Molly, I promise you."

They looked into each other's eyes, I don't think I was in the room at that moment. Which is possibly why I asked, "So, what are you going to do, Ralph?"

"I've found a short holiday, it's only eleven days, out in Madeira. It flies out on Thursday week. I've checked, they've got at least eight spaces available, and I doubt whether they'll sell them all now. So, I'm going to pack up everything that is Susan's personal stuff from this house. All her clothes, her pictures, her keepsakes, absolutely everything. I may need your help with some of that, Molly. And I'm going to visit her on the Wednesday before I go. I'll give her all her stuff, and tell her what I'm doing. It'll be up to her, I will ask her to apologise for what she did to you two, and for all the lies she told me. And if she does so, then I'll ask her to come with me on the holiday and to start to put things right in our marriage. And if she doesn't do both of those things, then I guess we really are heading for divorce as soon as I come back."

Molly looked worried, "What do you think she'll do?"

"I think she bluster and protest, and I think she'll let me go alone. And I think she'll swear I deserted her for no good reason whatsoever. She doesn't think she's done anything wrong. And she won't see why she should have to go on a trip she doesn't want to go on, just to apologise for something she hasn't done."

Now Molly looked very nervous, "What happens if she comes back here when you're away? What will I say, what do you want me to do?"

Ralph paused for a moment. "I'll tell her not to. And I'll change the lock on the front door. Keep the back door bolted. Then she won't be able to get in, but I'll tell her I'm doing it. I suspect that it won't be quite legal, but she'll have to get a Court order to break in, and I can't see her doing that. And Chris will see that nothing happens to you." He turned to me, "Won't you, Chris?"

"Of course. She's been down in Weymouth for nearly five weeks, another week or two isn't going to hurt her."

Molly didn't look convinced, "I'm just scared that she'll make trouble for me and the boys."

Ralph reassured her again, "She won't. You're her daughter. If anything, she's more likely to want to mend her fences with you."

Molly now smiled grimly, "Well she can't do that. And she should be scared of what I could do to her if I do see her."

Ralph smiled, I relaxed, he added, "That's more like it. I know it can't be easy, your parents splitting up at exactly the same time as you're having to go through the divorce process again. But this time, we both know that what we're both doing is right."

I interrupted, "I hope you do know what you're doing Ralph. Personally, I can understand where you're coming from, but I warn you, being divorced is a pretty lonely place to be. Trust me, I know."

Molly looked up, "Being in a bad marriage can be a pretty lonely place as well."

I looked at my watch, "I must be going. I'm flying to Stockholm tonight." I caught a concerned look in Molly's eye, "It's alright. I'll be back by lunchtime on Tuesday. It's just an important sale, and I'm doing my bit to make it happen. I'll go and say goodbye to the boys."

After a few more minutes of reassuring looks, hugs, chaste kisses and words, I was driving away.

I got back to my office just before lunch on Tuesday. Carole had arranged a working lunch in my office, just for the two of us, as a way of catching up on my day out of the office, and on my diary ahead. But before I even got as far as my office, she said, "Can you phone Ralph Tremaine? He wants a word with you semi-urgently."

When I phoned Ralph, it was that he wanted to warn me that on Monday evening, Peter had turned up, demanding to talk to Molly. Eventually, and very reluctantly, Molly had agreed to let him say his piece. It wasn't a pretty piece. At heart, it was that he wanted to try again, but it included blaming anyone and everyone for their problems, but mainly blaming me. After about half an hour of it, Molly had apparently told him that she had listened, that it didn't change anything, and would he now please leave. At that point it turned fairly ugly, and ended up with Ralph threatening to call the Police, but he did go eventually.

Apparently, Molly was very upset for the rest of the evening, and was still very quiet at breakfast. He knew she was coming to see me as planned this evening, but that I shouldn't expect too much. I promised to be very gentle with her, and that I intended to give her some gentle indication that Peter wasn't always the honest and trustworthy gentleman that he pretends.

Ralph's only advice after that was to say "Make sure you can back up everything you say, and go very, very gently." Which I promised to do.

I took home a ready for microwave Chinese meal for two, and waited for Molly. When she arrived she was dressed beautifully, she smelt wonderful, and she looked tired, drawn, pale and nervous. 

She told me about Peter's visit on the Monday. It was pretty much as Ralph had described it. But Molly had obviously found it deeply distressing. It took me all of the meal to get her to relax and even smile. And I was getting pretty fed up with having to act as nursemaid because of Peter Fucking Davies!

We took our coffee and went and sat comfortably and Molly asked, "So, what do you want to talk about?"

"Well I guess the best place to start is when you first met Peter. Let's go over the story again, and in detail."

She said OK, and that's what we did. I asked questions about what they talked about, both when others were there and when there were just two of them. But, although I asked quite pointed questions, and on a couple of occasions Molly looked at me with deep suspicion, she never admitted that there was anything wrong with the relationship, or that Peter was trying to feed her ideas about having an affair.

Then we came onto the day of the adultery. I started to be very detailed in my questions. How was she exactly feeling? How quickly did Peter see the opportunity to invite her for lunch? Who's idea was it to go in one car? When she asked for a G&T and he ordered it, was it a G&T or a large G&T or a very large G&T?

She did answer that one, that it was large or very large. She thought it was just large, but he could have asked for a very large one. Was there a difference?

"Maybe. To some bartenders a G&T is a single, a large is a double and a very large is a triple."

After that, I questioned their conversation in the restaurant, was it at all sexual? Well Yes it was, but only in a joking, between colleagues sort of way. Nothing personal, nothing too pointed. When we got to the grappa incident, I asked if Peter had ever got to like grappa?

Suddenly, Molly was looking indignant, "Yes. Now he loves the stuff. He says he thinks of it as 'Our Drink'. But that's what this has been all about, hasn't it Chris? You're trying to prove that he was some bastard trying to seduce me. Well he isn't a bastard and he wasn't trying to seduce me. He's a very nice, honest man, who happened to fall into lust that afternoon, just like I did. And then afterwards he fell in love. Stop trying to make him seem something he's not."

"Honest! Honest! How honest was he with his tickets to Longleat? Was that honest? Was it honest to pretend that sweet peas were his favourite flower? Was it honest to just happen to have veal on your first date? How honest is he, Molly? He doesn't sound very honest to me?"

She stood up and started heading for the door. She grabbed her jacket and bag as she passed, "He's a nice man. You can't blame him for taking tips from Susan. She shouldn't have set him up. But it wasn't really his fault. That first time it was my fault. I wanted him. I've already told you that. I was wrong. I was a slut. But it wasn't his fault. Stop trying to blame him for everything." 

By that time she was at the front door, and she was leaving and right now. 

"Fucking John 11:35" was my answer to the back of my front door.

Whisky tasted good that night!

Ralph caught up with me by telephone on the Wednesday night. I had just got back to my hotel room in Oxford after a business dinner, when he phoned me.

"Yes, Ralph?"

"Chris, are you free to talk?"

"Yes. Sure."

"Well I warned you. Go gently. But you didn't."

"But I did. I can understand that she feels a bit sensitive about Peter. But there's sensitive and fucking stupidly hyper-sensitive..."

"And being even sensitive about another man can't be easy for you...."

"No it isn't, but I know it's reasonable on her part. I'll live. How is she?"

"Feeling a little guilty I think. She wouldn't tell me what you said, just that you made a totally unfair attack on Peter. But I think she feels a bit sorry now."

"One day Ralph, I'll prove to you that I wasn't in the least bit unfair. Is she coming back for more tomorrow?"

"Yes, I thought you two had agreed that you had to keep going. Let her supply the food this time, it might ease her conscience. But lay off Peter."

"OK. I think I've got some things to say or tell her about him, but maybe this isn't the time."

"Pleased to hear it. Have faith, you'll get there."

I laughed, "Could you tell me where 'there' is?"

Now he laughed, "Now that would take all the mystery and excitement away."

So, on the Thursday I found Molly in my kitchen when I got home. She was filling a saucepan with water at the sink when I came through the door, and I instantly knew there was something wrong.




Back to Bristol Ch. 16



"Hi. What's the matter?"

She turned towards me, it was obvious that she'd been crying. "I saw Jeanette this afternoon."

"And? It was rough? She talked about forgiveness when I saw her."

"Oh! She was quite nice to me, very nice in fact. No, it was some of the stories she told me. You know what they were. Why didn't you tell me? Why did you let me go on believing..."

I smiled, "If I remember all the way back to Tuesday, I started to try. It didn't seem to go down very well. I take it her stories included Peter and his fondness of grappa?"

"And his determination to 'get into my pants' as apparently he so delicately put it. And that's why Peter and Piers weren't talking. He even had to lie to me about that."

"What are we having? And does it go with red or white?"

"I'm not fussed, but its just pasta with a marinara sauce. White I guess, but I think I'd like something a bit stronger."

"A G&T perhaps?"

"And I had a think about that. It was definitely a large one, and I'm pretty sure it was a very large one."

"A triple! He was out to get you relaxed."

I poured two G&T's and handed her one. "It's a single-ish I promise."

"Don't. I feel such a fool. I ruined my life, our lives, for a randy guy who just wanted to get into my pants."

"Drink your drink and we'll talk about it later. Was Jeanette still a proud grandmother?"

And we didn't really talk about anything personal until after the meal. Except for one point when we did have one short conversation about Ralph and Susan, and that Molly's childhood home would probably end up being sold, but that didn't seem to worry her. 

It was after we'd sat down comfortably with mugs of coffee and the remains of our wine that she said, "OK. Tell me what I missed. How did I fall for this Lothario?"

I smiled, "Can I be a little more obvious in my questions than I was on Tuesday?"

"Yes. There's no point in being subtle."

"OK. Let's assume that Peter spotted you as a girl he fancied. That maybe have been well ahead of when he introduced himself, but my guess is that it was that lunchtime when he was in the canteen and saw you eating alone. Again, my guess is that you would have made it blatantly obvious that you were married and that you had two small children, and that you loved your family. Now, we don't know if he specialised in the challenge of married woman, or he took whatever came along, but either way, my guess is that he set his sights on you. Perhaps he had his sights on two or three others in his life at that time, at Franks he had quite a reputation."

"So, he makes sure we become friends?"

"That's what I would do if I was determined. And I guess he already knew that you'd spurned or not noticed any feelers he'd put out for a quick kill. So he knew the hunt was on. My guess is that he would try to separate you from me a little in your mind. Did he?"

She thought about that, "I don't think so. Well, maybe a bit. When I told him about how I felt, that I couldn't help you in your business life, he used to say that in his experience the wives of ambitious career guys tend to carve their own separate lives. They had separate friends, interests and relationships."

"That would be it. It's OK for you to have separate relationships."

She didn't look very pleased about that, but then admitted, "Yes, he did rather go on about building my own life."

I pressed on, "I think the other thing he would have done was just to stir you up a bit, make you think some sexy thoughts about him, every time you met. Just to make sure that you had some secret thoughts about him sexually. Nothing said, nothing overt, but a sexual awareness when you're with him."

She thought a lot about that, "Maybe. I was aware that he was a very sexy and attractive man. I wondered why he spent time with me when he had nurses swooning over him. It reinforced your other argument. I thought it must be because we were becoming such good friends."

"Well then we get to the great day. I guess that even happy chatting hospital gossip would be quite sexual, even if you didn't recognise it as being personally relevant....."

"Actually, some of the talk was about his last girlfriend. It wasn't about him and me. But it was about some girl where they had great sex, but nothing else. I thought it sounded rather sad. I felt a bit sorry for him."

I smiled, "Oh! Nice one! He reminds you how sexy he is, and how good he is at sex, and generates your feminine sympathy, all in one go. And all in a trusting, intimate friendship." 

I looked at her, and she was beginning to look very uncomfortable. But I pressed on, "He was an opportunist, and he saw his opportunity. We've established that he got quite a lot of alcohol inside you. And that gave him his excuse to get you back to his flat. And then we come to the final act, when he's got you back to his lair. Now, please note that he spilt hot water down himself, not hot black coffee which would have ruined his shirt. And I bet it wasn't that hot."

"I couldn't tell. It was wet and warm by the time I got there, that's all I could say."

"But then he has to strip off his shirt and trousers. This is a man who you say was very proud of his physique. He knew what he was doing. He knew he'd look good and sexy to you. Then, when he joined you in the sitting room, after the spillage, did he have his socks on?"

She looked surprised at the question, "No."

"Men look silly wandering around in their shorts with socks on. So, after the spillage, instead of going and putting on a fresh shirt and trousers he took his socks off."

"I guess so."

"I remember you mentioned that he came up behind you in his Calvin Klein's. I assume they were a nice quality pair of boxers?"

"Yes, they were. They were black silk. He really did look rather sexy in them."

"Did he always wear black silk boxers? Everyday, I mean. You should know, you were married to him."

"No. He wears good quality branded cotton ones normally."

"But that day he just happened to be wearing a sexy pair of black silk ones. What a coincidence."

Molly drank the last of her wine and looked at me. "Hindsight is a wonderful thing, and on this occasion I literally mean hindsight. I have an image of those black boxers in my mind. And they still have the fold lines in them from coming out of a packet, brand new. Why didn't I see it then?" She paused and looked at me, "When we got to his flat he disappeared into his bedroom for a couple of minutes. I didn't think anything of it at the time, but..."

"He had time to change into a brand new pair of his seduction specials. And freshen up his cologne?"

"Probably. He smelled good." She looked at me, and her eyes welled up with tears, "But I fell for it. I still wanted it at that moment."

I looked at her, right into her eyes, "Yes you did. You shouldn't have. You did betray our marriage...." 

The tears overflowed, down her cheeks.

And I continued, "He was a master. In some ways I have to admire him. He saw an opportunity, and executed it perfectly. One hundred percent successful from his point of view. But you did succumb, and you shouldn't have. But I have to admit it was far more his fault than yours, you were a victim."

"But I fell. Why didn't I see it? Girls get good at seeing that sort of thing coming. And it's taken you and Jeanette before I saw it. Why can you make it sound so obvious?"

"As I say, he was good, and he got under your radar. I see it because it's exactly what I would have done if I'd been him with his morals and his objective."

We sat in silence for quite some time, before Molly said "I think I'd like to go home now."

"And I think you should. You've had quite a day. But don't beat yourself up, it was all a long time ago, and I guess the way you and he were being pushed together by Susan, you haven't liked to be suspicious of him until now."

At the door I kissed her on the cheek, "Cheer up. Now you know the truth. Now you can deal with it."

After she left I had a weird feeling of anti-climax. At last I'd got her to see the truth. But I also had a feeling of anger and hurt. For the last couple of weeks, every emotion she'd felt, every conversation we'd had was about Peter Fucking Davies. It was Peter, Peter, Peter....

I phoned her on Friday, and asked how she was. "Thinking a lot. And getting angry" was her reply. Good, I thought. But all I did was arrange to take the boys out cycling on Sunday.

When I got them back, late on Sunday afternoon, Molly looked at me, "Have you got a minute?"

"Sure." I said and followed her into the kitchen. I could see Ralph pottering around his garden through the window.

She turned and looked at me, and held out a letter in an open envelope. "This was on the mat this morning, and there is no Sunday delivery."

I took it, it was about five hand written pages, addressed to her, and from Peter. "He delivered it himself?"

"We guess so, either late last night or early this morning. Please read it. I'm not hiding anything from you."

I did. It was mainly pleading on how they should try again, on how much he loves her, on how only he can make her happy. There was over a page on how she was deluding herself that I would ever take her back, and what an ambitious selfish shit I was, and even if I did take her back then I'd only make her unhappy. And finally, there was the sting in the tail, on how he would never agree to a divorce.

I looked at her, "What are you going to do?"

"Well, I'd already decided that I was going to see my solicitor again, as soon as possible. I'll give it to her to reply. Maybe if gets an official reply it will make him realise that he's got to let the divorce happen."

"Good idea. What were you going to see her about anyway?"

"You were right. I was seduced into ruining our marriage, and I was hoodwinked into marrying him. I should get something out of it. I want the full fifty percent, and anything else I'm entitled to."

"How will he take that? And what happens if he just doesn't do anything? If he just doesn't reply to the letters, or the divorce petition?"

"There are rules about that sort of thing. I can't remember the details, but you have to get a judge to agree that he's been given a fair time to respond and if he hasn't then the divorce goes forward anyway. But it all delays things and adds to the cost."

"And his reaction to the financial claim?"

"I think he'll hate it. When I first married him used to be very conscious that he couldn't give me as nice a house as we used to have. So he was very proud that his mother had left him enough money to afford better things. He won't like it being stripped away. But, if I have the law on my side, there won't be much he can do about it."

Good. Serves him bloody well right, I thought. But I just tried to look sympathetic. So I asked, "Will you be alright?"

"Yes. Ralph wants to come with me to the solicitors. He wants to talk about divorcing Susan."

"How do you feel about that? I can't be easy."

"I'm in two minds. I don't like the idea that my parents are getting divorced after thirty six years. But at the same time, I'm grateful that I'll never have to see Susan again. What she did was unforgivable, and I have no intention of ever trying to forgive her."

Now I was in two minds about that. I had every reason to agree with her view of Susan, but for anyone to reject their own mother so determinedly seemed sad and possibly damaging to themselves. And I did have some doubts about Ralph divorcing Susan. I could understand his disgust and anger, but after thirty six years surely there was some compromise that doesn't sweep them into the loneliness of divorce? But it was their lives and their choices, not mine.

I was thinking these thoughts when I heard Molly again, "And Chris, I want to say something else."

I looked up at her, and waited. She came and stood right in front of me, very close. "I want to say I'm sorry." She paused, "I hope you know already how deeply sorry I am for succumbing to his seduction, but that isn't what I want to say. I'm sorry that for the last few days, even today, I've been tied up in this stupid marriage to Peter. He was always a mistake, then and now. He is not the centre of my life, you are." She leant into me and went to kiss me on my lips, but then there was a moment of sadness in her eyes and she moved sideways slightly and kissed me on my cheek. 

I went home that evening feeling totally muddled in my feelings. I was pleased that I was her main man, but she talked and worried about him. I was pleased that she saw Susan in a true light, but worried that no one should hate their mother. I was pleased that she saw Peter for the immoral bastard he was, but hurt that she'd married him. And so it went on. Every thought had its downside.

Partly out of duty, and partly out of need, I phoned Mum. She and Len had returned to Newcastle and were back staying with Brian and Morag. Having gone through the preliminary chat about their holiday in Scotland, and how everyone was, she obviously caught something in my voice and she interrupted something trivial that I was saying, "Chris, by the sound of it, something is troubling you. Would you like me or Len or Brian to phone you back on a landline for a proper talk?"

"Why don't you do it?" I replied.

Two minutes later my landline rang and about ninety minutes after that I put the phoned down having had a long rambling conversation with Mum. I was no wiser, but somehow I felt so much better. Mum had done nothing more than ask questions and listen to the answers, but somehow it helped. 

I was just pouring myself my second whisky when my phone rang again. It was Mum, she'd had a long chat to Len. They were going to come back to Bristol on Tuesday. They'd decided that this time they were going to stay at a hotel and they invited myself and Molly to dinner at the Les Jardins on the Tuesday evening. I accepted for myself, but had to say that only Molly could accept for Molly, but that I'd speak to her.

On the Monday morning I know I was a bit short tempered, and on the second cup of coffee Carole sat down and looked at me. "Can I take it that life is a bit of a problem at the moment? The next hurtful instalment?"

So I brought her up to date, but also told her how muddled I felt. She looked at me, "When you invented this twice a week talking idea, you must have known you were launching into a long and very hard process. I'm sure there will be times when you feel you love her, other times when you will feel that you hate her. But most of the time you just won't know what you feel. But when you get to be able to answer that question, well you'll have got to the end, whatever it turns out to be."

"I'm not sure that fits your Shit Happens view of life."

"Think of yourself sitting in that sewer, with shit washing over you. You'll be grateful for the breaks when no one flushes. This isn't one of them."

I smiled. And as Carole left my office, I phoned Molly to ask her to come to dinner with Mum and Len on Tuesday evening. Of course she agreed.

Molly was waiting for me at my flat when I got in from work on Tuesday evening. I asked how the meeting with the solicitor went.

"OK. My bit was quite quick and matter of fact. She'll write to Peter telling him that he has to stop making threats and answer the Divorce Petition, or we'll go to Court and proceed anyway. And she'll lodge the financial claim. I told her to make it the reasonable maximum, was that right?"

I smiled, "It was as far as I'm concerned. He owes you, big time."

"Well after that it was mainly about Ralph and Susan. When Ralph had finished telling his story, she did ask if we wanted to make a legal claim for damages against Susan, but I said No. You don't want to, do you?"

Again I said, "No."

Then I went for a quick shower and a change of clothes. Once I was ready we were heading for Les Jardins. As we drove along, I said "You know Mum is going to quiz you on how we're getting along?"

"Don't worry. I've survived your mother's inquisitions before."

"When?"

"Before we got married. You don't think I was allowed to marry you without passing the test first, do you. I discussed it with Margot once. We reckon it was exactly the same questions, in exactly the same order for both of us, and on the same pretext of having a girl's afternoon shopping."

I laughed.

Dinner wasn't anywhere near as gruelling as I was expecting. Mum was full of stories about Brian and his family, which I guess had an ancillary function of advertising family life. Len was full of stories of their Scottish holiday. Only at one point did I hear Mum start questioning how Molly and myself were doing. I was talking to Len at the time, about what had made him and his first wife emigrate to Australia in the first place, when I noticed Mum pull Molly's arm so that they stepped away from us. Immediately, my ears pricked up, but Mum had her back to me and I couldn't hear what she was saying.

But I did hear Molly, "No. I thought all I would have to do was wear a short skirt, bat my eyelashes once or twice, and we could get back to where we once were. But, we've met four times now to talk about things, and they have been horrid. It's not Chris's fault, but I'm having to face up to so many horrible things, about myself, about other people, and about how much I hurt Chris. Susan used to say that he'd be OK, that men don't worry about these sort of things, and I believed her. I was wrong. So, don't push him, he's doing remarkably well, considering."

Mum must have said something, because Molly went on, "Considering that all I've talked about really for two weeks is Peter, one way or another. Can you think about anything worse than talking about the other man, and yet Chris hasn't complained, he has always seems to be taking my feelings into account, when things must be painful for him as well."

Again Mum said something, and Molly replied, "Yes. But I'm only just beginning to realise that."

Then I heard Len break into my attention with, "I'll just keep talking. You nod once in a while and say Yes or No, so that they think we're talking and you're not listening to them." Which amused me, and for which I was grateful.

By the time I tuned in again, Molly was saying, ".....if it doesn't work out it won't be Chris's fault, or mine. It's just that we can't put it back together. But I know he'll try, even if he doesn't know it. And at the same time, I really do have my doubts. I didn't, but these first two weeks have taught me that."

We were onto the coffee before Mum turned to Len, "I don't think there is anything we can do for these two. We can go home?"

"Tomorrow if you like, and if they have space on the plane." Len answered.

Mum turned to me, "There is nothing we can do to help, is there? But you must phone every week, and whenever a chat will help."

And so, outside Les Jardins, we said goodbye. I did promise to go to Australia for Christmas, whatever happens. And I did thank her so much, for coming all this way just in the hope that she could give me my happiness back. It was out of her hands now, maybe it was out of mine and Molly's hands as well.

In the car, going back, Molly did tell me that she'd started talking to Heather Washington. Apparently it was very informal, they had just agreed to get together for two lunchtimes a week, in Heather's office with Molly supplying the sandwiches. So far they've got no further than Molly telling her story, and Heather asking what aspects of it trouble Molly the most.

"And what did you choose?" I asked.

"Why I got to such a state that I married Peter. Its something that I don't understand, and I was there. And I know it troubles you, probably more than me."

"Any idea what she's going to do, what her methodology is?"




Back to Bristol Ch. 16



"Well, obviously the big questions are what was the state of my mind at that time, and what influence did Susan have, and what was it that made Peter acceptable?"

"Yes, I guess so."

"Well, apparently she thinks there are tests that I can do, even this long after the event, that will tell us something about how I felt, how I reacted, all those years ago. That assumes that I can remember what I felt and did to the extent of answering questions. Heather's researching it at the moment."

"Oh. Well I guess we'll have to wait."

"And she wants to meet you and talk to you at sometime."

"Oh No she's doesn't. I told you, I don't do talking about my bed wetting at the age of two, or whether you fucking Peter gives me a hard on, or it just reduces me to tears."

"I know the answer to that one, and it didn't do anything for your trouser department."

"Do I hear a tinge of regret? That a threesome was in your dreams."

"Certainly not. I've read and fantasised a lot in the last four years, mainly around you. But the idea of sharing you, or of you sharing me is one of the biggest turn-offs I can think of. In some ways, I think it might have helped if I didn't feel so strongly about that. It really gets to me that I went to bed with the wrong man for four years. I dread to think what it does to you."

"Well, it certainly doesn't give me a hard-on."

But whilst the conversation had taken this sexual turn, I asked, "Just so as I know, there aren't any photo's or video's of you or you and Peter are there? Anything that could turn up on the Internet from an angry Peter?"

"Good Heavens! No. If I wasn't willing to even give him a blow job, even he saw it as pretty unlikely that I'd pose for nude photo's. He never even tried asking."

"Good. I just wondered. If you remember, I took some of you on that very first digital camera I had. I seem to remember you got into it even more than I did."

"I might have." She answered, and I could see she was smiling. 

"Whatever happened to those photo's?" I asked, suddenly concerned.

"I destroyed them, or I hope I did. There was a copy on a CD in our bedside draw. I got rid of that. Were there any other copies?"

"No. That was it."

After a pause, I asked, "So, back to what we were talking about. What does Heather want with me?"

"I've asked that when she talks about how she thinks I ended up marrying Peter, if she ever does, then she should tell both of us. That's all."

"Oh. That's OK. I'd like to hear that. Anything to explain that little mystery of life."

After that we continued to meet every Tuesday and Thursday to talk. And those talks were good. We talked about anything and everything. Of course, when we talked about her married life to Peter I hated it, but I saw similar strain on her face when I talked about Helene. If I was honest, I talked about Helene quite a bit and quite lovingly, there was an element of revenge in those discussions. But I suspected Molly knew that, and just accepted it.

No, the real story at this time came from the people around us. Ralph did go and see Susan on the Wednesday, after Molly and I had dined with Mum and Len on the Tuesday. According to Molly, he got nowhere. She was adamant that what she had done was unfortunate but necessary to preserve her family, and that was acceptable in her eyes. Her view of Ralph's holiday to Madeira was that it was an opportunity for him to calm down and see everything in a more reasonable manner, and she was certainly not going to go travelling to foreign places just to talk to a husband who didn't understand her. So, off he went on his holiday, alone.

It was the Friday afternoon of the next week that I got a phone call from Molly, at about four o'clock in the afternoon. I was holding a routine meeting in my office, but was more worried that we had our American partners visiting, and we wanted them to license us for a couple of new products. But, it was so unusual for Molly to phone me, that I excused myself and took her call. 

"Hello, Chris?" She sounded as if she was in a panic. 

"Yes, Molly, what is it?"

"It's Susan. I went to collect the boys from school, and when we got back she was sitting in her car on the drive."

"Where are you now?"

"In a lay-by just up the road from the house, you know the one?"

"And the boys are with you?"

"Yes."

"OK. You've got a key to my place. Take the boys and give them something to eat, then go to my place. If necessary they can sleep there for the night. And I'll get to you as soon as I can."

I went out to Carole's desk. "Carole, I have a problem. Susan, Molly's mother has turned up and Molly is going to be hiding in my flat with Jamie and Ben. I need to leave as soon as I can."

I heard Carole say, "Shit happens." under her breath, but she looked up and smiled reassuringly. "What do you want me to do?"

"Well, it's not an emergency. Molly can take the boys out for something to eat, and they are all quite safe. But I ought to get there as soon as I reasonably can."

"She shouldn't be scared of her own mother."

"I don't think she is. I think she's scared of what they might say to each other. But, you're right. Molly has to see Susan and tell her exactly what she thinks of her. It'll be better for both of them in the long run." I paused and did some thinking, "OK. This meeting can go on without me, I'll kick them out and into the boardroom, if it's free?"

Carole nodded, so I continued, "Can you go down stairs and see Bill Elswood? The Americans are with him, but I've got to see them before they go, and they're catching a plane back to the States tomorrow. So, tell him to find a convenient point to bring them up to my office, and I'll do my bit, and then he can look after them until they go back to their hotel. I was thinking of inviting them to dinner; if Bill can do that, or John Wheeler, then all well and good, but I'm definitely not."

"OK. Anything I can do for you and Molly. Gouge that bitches eyes out for instance?"

I smiled, "I don't think that would help somehow..."

"I'd just like to give her a piece of my mind. I'm a mother, and it makes me sick to think about what she played at...."

"I agree, but the best person to tell her is Molly, and it's my job to see that she does, or at least has the opportunity to do so."

I went back into my office, and apologised and shifted that meeting into the boardroom without me. Then I sat and waited for the Americans. 

That meeting went very well. Of course, Carole was superb; from somewhere she'd managed to find an excellent Dundee cake to go with our cup of tea, I suspect the Americans thought that I always stopped in the middle of the afternoon for tea and cake. And after about three quarters of an hour, she came in to say that both John Wheeler and Bill Elswood would be delighted to take them all to dinner, and she had already booked the restaurant and arranged cars. That broke up their meeting with me, and I could pass them on downstairs.

I got home not long after five thirty, and Molly and the boys had just arrived and were watching television.

Molly looked seriously worried. Apparently Susan had left eight unanswered messages on Molly's phone in the last hour. Eventually I managed to convince her that there was only one real solution and that was for her to talk to Susan, face to face.

Molly had Susan's cell phone number, and I phoned it.

Susan answered with a suspicious, "Hello."

"Hell, Susan. It's Chris..."

You could hear the mixture of anger and disappointment in her voice. "What do you want?"

"I understand you are looking for Molly."

"Yes. She's my daughter, and I want to see my two boys."

"They are not your two boys, they are Molly's and my sons. And I don't want them seeing you."

"They're my grandsons, and I have a right to see them."

"No you don't. I have joint custody of them, and I object very strongly to them being exposed to an immoral person like you. And if I have to, I'll fight you through every Court in the land to ensure that you never see them."

"You can't say that. You wait until I tell Molly. Then she'll see you for the arrogant man you really are."

"Well, you won't have to bother to tell her, she's standing right next to me."

That obviously surprised her, and there was a pause, but then she recovered, "Well, put her on the phone. Or are you banning me from talking to my own daughter?"

"No, certainly not. That's why I phoned, to arrange for you to meet her. I assume you'd like to meet her?"

"That's why I'm here. Put her on."

"No. But have you got a pencil and paper, and I'll give you an address where you can meet."

There was a pause, and then she said Yes. So I gave her my address and told her to be there at seven o'clock. I gave her no options, and I just rang off.

I looked at Molly and smiled, "I don't think she likes me very much."

She smiled weakly, but then she asked, "Can we ..... should we stop her seeing the boys?"

"I only said it to illustrate that we meant business. She has to realise that you and the boys are not at her beck and call. But, it's up to you. If you can mend your fences with her, then I guess we'll have to see her sometimes. She'll enjoy seeing me having to let her see the boys. She's your mother, you have to decide, and I'll support your decision."

We worked out that to be at my flat by seven o'clock, Susan would have to be leaving her house sometime around six thirty, so at that time I put the boys in my car and set out for Susan and Ralph's place, leaving Molly to face her mother.

I'd just finished getting the boys to bed, tidying up the bathroom after the hurricane had hit, and putting their laundry in the basket when Molly was knocking at the front door. That fooled me for a moment until I remembered that I had her key.

She looked better than I expected, but she still fell into my arms for a reassuring hug.

"How did it go?" I asked.

"Horrible. I helped myself to some of your brandy afterwards, but it was whisky. I don't like whisky, but it wasn't too bad."

I smiled to myself, I knew it was good stuff, "It's 21 year old Balvenie. Do you need another, whatever Ralph keeps?"

"No. A coffee would be fine."

We went into the kitchen and she set about making some coffee. I asked, "Did she show any signs of concern that Ralph is on the point of divorcing her?"

Molly shook her head, "None at all. I don't think she's thought for a moment that he will do that. She spoke as if he was a bit upset, but he'd get over it. I think she's got a nasty shock coming, assuming he comes back from Madeira in the same mood as he left."

"But that remains to be seen." I observed.

She finished making the coffee, and we sat down on opposite sides of the kitchen table, "OK, so what did she want, if it wasn't to cry on your shoulder about Ralph?"

Molly took a calming breath, "I think she really came as an ambassador for Peter. She tried all the tricks she used four years ago. He was such a loving and nice man, and I wasn't being fair to him in not giving him a second chance. In fact I was downright cruel to have a solicitor reply to his heartfelt plea for reconciliation." She looked up at me and shrugged.

"I take it that did nothing for you? I hope it didn't."

"No. I told her that I didn't love him, and the best thing for both of us was to get a quick and easy divorce."

"But she wouldn't take no for an answer?"

"Hardly. As pleas on his behalf wouldn't work, she turned on you. You hadn't taken me back and that you never would. You'd deserted me and divorced me four years ago, and she doubted if anything has changed your mind since. When I told her that you'd hardly been given a chance what with her lies and stopping me ever coming to see you, and her trick with the letters, she didn't look guilty, not for a second. She didn't like it, but her response was that when the boys grew up, I would understand. Then she turned it against you. Not only didn't you forgive me, but when she raised the hurdle, all you did was walk away. You were a fair-weather husband. And what was more, her final reason for what a terrible husband you would make was just look at what happened. If I'd remained married to you, you would have dragged me and the boys off to London, and worst still, off to Holland for two years."

"God! What a bastard I am. I look forward to the horse's head on my pillow in the morning."

"Oh! She also wanted to know if you were living here with me. When I said No. She said that if you ever tried it, it was her house, and she'd be in Court faster than you could believe to have you ejected."

"That's just a childish response because I threatened her with Court if she came near the boys. Ignore it."

She smiled, "Well, at about that point, I lost it. I really began to attack her. I guess it was her attacking you that got me really upset. But I threw everything at her, about how she'd tricked and cheated to get me to go with Peter. I accused her of trying to prostitute me. About her lying to Ralph, about her collusion with Peter, I threw everything at her. I told her she was a selfish bitch and a disgrace to motherhood. But it was like water off a duck's back. I ended by saying that I wanted her to go, and that I never wanted to see her again, and that I would never let the boys go anywhere near her."

"How did she take it?"

"I think I shocked her. She left quite stunned at the force of my response, saying: But I'm you're mother." Again she shrugged.

"And how about you."

"Relieved, I think. But the really sad thing is that I meant every word. I hope she comes to realise that. I actually hope that I've seen the last of her, I don't ever want to see her again. I hope that Ralph does divorce her, it would be so much easier."

"Well, let's hope she doesn't hang around and make a nuisance of herself." I said. "Was she off, back to Weymouth?"

Molly looked up, "I didn't ask, but my guess is she's off to report back to Peter, but I don't know."

"And I wonder what he will do, now that he's used up the Susan tactic." 

Suddenly, Molly looked at me, with a lot of concern in her eyes. But then just as suddenly, she burst into tears. I guess the enormity of the evening finally got to her. I went round the table and just hugged her.



Back to Bristol Ch. 17



I left Molly at about ten o'clock on that Friday, but I was back before eight the next morning. I knew she was scared that Susan would make more trouble, or that Peter would start something now that Susan had failed.

So, we hung around together, and I began to realise how comfortable we had become with each other. I guessed we were beginning to get near to what I had wanted and hoped for, that we could become good friends. 

I'd just finished watering Ralph's tomatoes and wandered back into the kitchen. Molly was leaning against the wall alongside the kitchen telephone, ashen faced. She looked at me, "It was her."

"Susan? What happened? What did she say."

"I was just putting the breakfast things into the dishwasher, and the phone rang. I picked it up without thinking. I answered with the number as I usually do, and she then said: Molly, I want you to know that I was extremely hurt with what you said last night..... And I put the phone down. I don't know what else she was going to say."

"You did exactly the right thing. Putting the phone down on her will get the message across that you meant it. Don't answer her if she calls."

I put my arm around her and gave her a hug. "Come on, let's have a cup of coffee." 

We were just sitting in the kitchen, drinking our coffee and conjecturing as to what Susan's next move would be, when my phone started to vibrate in my pocket.

I looked at it, it was Carole calling me. "Hi, Carole, There's nothing wrong, I hope."

"Not at this end. But I was worried how things turned out last night."

"About as expected, I guess you'd say. Molly met with her mother and told her where to get off."

"Poor Molly, having to disown her own mother. It must be awful for her. But she did the right thing. Tell her that from me, please."

"You can tell her yourself, if you like. She's sitting right opposite me."

I looked up at Molly, "It's Carole; she'd like a word." And I passed the phone across.

Having said a tentative Hello, Molly was mainly quiet, just listening, with the occasional 'Yes' or 'It was' and a lot of 'Thank you's' until she eventually passed the phone back to me.

"It's me again, Carole."

"You know I believe shit happens. But no one deserves the amount of shit that's happening in Molly's life. You be kind to her, Chris. Otherwise you'll never forgive yourself."

"I'm trying."

"And I know that sometimes it isn't easy. You're in my prayers. Now I'll let you get on, and I'll see you on Monday."

I looked at Molly, "Carole is a nice lady; she's a sort of extra mum to me."

Molly smiled, "She is a nice lady. I'd met her, of course, but I don't really know her. But you can tell her from me, it really did help that an older woman told me that I'd done the right thing."

"Somehow I don't think I'll tell her that she's an older woman." I smiled.

She smiled back, more confidant this time, "I am OK. I can't imagine that Susan will try again. To be put down twice, last night and this morning, will be quite enough for her I'm sure." She paused, "Thank you. Last night I didn't know who else to call. I don't really have a right to call to call on you for my problems."

Now that was something that had never crossed my mind. Of course I was there for her in an emergency. But all I said was, "Well, I guess I'm not needed now, and we've both probably got lots to do."

She looked disappointed, but all she did was to say "Why don't you come round tomorrow evening. Ralph should be back by about seven o'clock, and I thought we'd wait for him and have a family meal.

So, on the Sunday I was back, in fact I just arrived after Ralph had returned. Molly said that he was upstairs having a shower, and that he'd be down soon, and that he seemed to have had a nice time.

"How is he?" I asked.

"Good, very good. But he really wanted to know if we were OK, and so I told him about Susan on Friday."

"So he knows all that. Good." I said.

Ralph was glowing, with both a suntan and excitement. He'd had a wonderful time, "You know I thought this holiday was going to be like taking medicine. It would be good for me, to see if I could do it without Susan. Hold my nose and swallow." He paused to look around the table, "Of course I missed her, but nowhere near as much as I expected. For the whole holiday I never had to dine alone, there was always someone or some couple that would invite me to join them. And there was a friendly crowd in the bar as well."

Molly beat me to the next question, "So what does that mean?"

"It means that I don't have to make a compromise that I would be ashamed of. That I don't have to share the rest of my life with someone who disgusts me. Tomorrow, I'll phone the solicitor and get things underway, and then I'll sit down and write to her. I don't want an unnecessary face to face, we've said all there is to be said."

Jamie looked up, "Are you going to divorce Nanny Susan, Grandpa?"

"Yes, Jamie, I am. I'm sorry. It means you won't be seeing her very much."

"That's OK. She had funny ideas, I didn't like them very much."

I was interested, "What ideas were those."

"Well, when you left us Dad, I cried, I was only little then of course. And Nanny Susan told me that I shouldn't cry, that I'd have a new daddy very soon. And I didn't like that, you were my Dad and I wanted you to come back."

I looked at Molly, who shrugged and looked mystified, "When was this?"

"It was one night when Mummy went to dinner with Peter, and Nanny Susan was with us. It was the first time Mummy had been out by herself; I remember that, 'cos I was worried about her. I didn't think she wanted to go, but Nanny Susan made her."

"Psalms 8:2" I muttered under my breath.

And Ralph said, "No, Matthew 21:16"

Which was followed by a friendly argument between myself and Ralph as to where 'out of the mouth of babes and sucklings' came from. And, after Jamie had fetched the Bible, we were both proved right, which was the best result for both of us. But then Ben, who was meant to be helping his mother serve, pulled my hand and led me to the kitchen, where Molly was meant to be collecting the pudding. She was in tears.

I looked at her and understood, "Of course they cried. Their home was broken. What was horrible was Susan using all her guile to break it."

"Yes, but it was them having to be old before their time. Jamie was four years old and he was worried about me." And a new wave of tears poured down her cheeks.

"I know. They never deserved this. There are no winners in this. We're all losers."

She looked at me, with anger in her eyes, "No, there were winners, Susan and Peter."

"But they're losers now. Everything comes full circle."

After that, for the next week, things were really good between myself and Molly. Our relationship was now fully back as a pair of parents, and as friends. 

Ralph, on the other hand, had a rough week. On Thursday, Susan got her 'I'm going to divorce you' letter from Ralph, and apparently she was none too pleased. She phoned Ralph and told him that he had no right to divorce her, that she'd fight it all the way, followed by a one hour diatribe on all that was wrong with him as a husband. After that he refused to take her calls, and if he did answer her, it was only to tell her to let the solicitors deal with it.

It was on the Friday, I was beginning to unwind at the office before I went home, just sitting at my desk reading a daft report on Myra's investigations into he financial status of the Exeter operation, when Carole put her head around the door to say Peter Davies wanted to see me.

I was tempted to send him away, but there was a possibility that this was business, and there was a duty on me to meet senior staff at their request. So, I told her to send him in.

I got up from my desk as he came through the door, I nodded towards the sofa group, and I sat in my favourite armchair. He looked tired and pale with heavy black bags under his eyes.

I waited for him to speak, which he eventually did, "You know what I want."

And that was precisely what I didn't know. I knew what this was about, but I didn't know what he wanted. "Actually, no I don't. You'd better tell me."

"I want my wife back. I need her in my life." He ran his hand through his hair, "I know she has some idea that she loves you, that you will want her back. But, you haven't taken her back, have you?"

"We talk. I think both of us are just trying to understand what happened in our marriage, especially when it broke down." I answered as neutrally as I possibly could.

"Yes. But you haven't taken her back. I guess you rather like the freedom to pursue your career, to travel wherever ITI sends you. You don't want a wife and kids around your neck. Well I do. I love her, I want her, and you've got to stop letting her think that you are ever going to take her back. It's not fair to her and it's not fair to me."

"I don't believe this! You are turning to me to help you. I loved Molly, she is the mother of my sons. You're seduction of her bust up that marriage. And you expect me to help you?"

He looked defensive, "She won't talk to me. She's threatening to just go to a judge and force a divorce." He ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know what to do." He looked up at me, and there was desperation in his eyes, the desperation that had brought him to plead with his enemy, "Look, if you want a family weekend, or even a family holiday once in a while, well I won't ask too many questions as to what goes on, but please tell her to come back to me, I've got to have her back. I can't think straight without her."

If I was surprised before, now I'm shocked, "Did I hear you right, that you're suggesting that somehow we share her? Have you spoken to Molly about that one? She might have a view on that idea."

Tears welled up in his eyes, "I don't know. Of course I don't want to share her. I love her and want her and miss her so much. It's just......it's just that as I lay awake at night, I try to think of something, someway..... I want my wife back. How can she do this to me? I love her."

"So you keep saying." I whispered to myself, under my breath. I got up and walked over to my whisky. I poured two glasses. I could hear Peter Davies behind me, he was sobbing. I knocked back one whisky in two gulps.

I'm meant to love this bit. I've waited five years for this, and now that it's arrived, I feel a bit sorry for the guy. I've had plans, how I was going to rub his nose in his miserable sex life, tell him how I liked it when Molly used to offer me anal sex, or how great her impromptu blow jobs were, or about the evening that I trimmed her pubes, or about the sexy underwear she happily wore. I'm sure I could reduce Mr Macho to tears with all of that, but now he's reduced himself to tears and spoilt my fun.

I poured myself another whisky, and returned to the conversation, putting a whisky in front of him. I guess I should try and turn this to be constructive, for Molly's sake. But I did want some fun. I passed him a whisky and sat down.

I waited while he sipped his drink, then I started, "You really are a miserable, self-centred, selfish, immoral little shit, aren't you? About five years ago, you saw an attractive woman that you fancied. You wanted to get into her pants, and that's all that mattered. She was wearing a wedding ring, but that didn't bother you. You wanted to get into her pants. She told you about her two sons. That didn't matter to you, you wanted to get into her pants. She told you about her husband, about her loving family, but none of that mattered to you. You were all that mattered to you."

He looked at me, shocked at my vehemence, "And that's all that matters to you. Revenge? You've had your revenge. You seduced her into our bed. In my house. You knew she still had some stupid sentimental memories of you, and you used that to try getting back at me. You've had your revenge."

I paused, wondering if I should respond to his jibes. But I didn't want my lecture to descend to an argument, so I ignored his interruption, "And one day you managed it. You were The Man. You'd seen want you wanted and you'd got it, without any thought of the damage to other people that you hurt. But then you wanted something more. You wanted her so much that you couldn't stop there. You couldn't give her the time to repair the damage that you'd caused to her marriage. Oh No! Now you wanted her all to yourself. But you couldn't do that on your own, you had to recruit her mother to help you. Because what you wanted was all that mattered. And you managed that. You got her to marry you. A marriage, not built on mutual love grown over months, but pressurised in the trauma of divorce. You selfish little shit."

He looked at me, and I could see he was forming a reply, so I kept going, "Well, now, just for once in your miserable life, how about doing something for this woman that you claim to love? How about giving her what she wants? Give her the divorce she asks for, and give her the fair financial settlement that she's entitled to. Maybe, just maybe, then she won't look upon you and your marriage with disgust."

"What do you mean?"

I took a large sip of whisky, and paused, "I mean: I know because Molly has told me, that there was a lot of your marriage that was good. But she wants a divorce now. So before you destroy everything that was good in the last four years, give her her freedom."

He blew his nose and gulped back most of his whisky, "I know I behaved badly in the very beginning. I'm not proud of that. I didn't know any better then. I can't blame her for thinking badly of me about all of that. But we do have something special. She told me that she loves me. She is my wife. I know she's upset with Susan about everything. If it wasn't that no one else is talking to Susan, I think Susan would be furious with me for what she and I did. She had her reasons and I had mine, they just came together. But now she needs a friend." He looked up at me, more composed now, "I take it that you know that Ralph is divorcing Susan. She has no one now."

"Yes a thirty six year old marriage bites the dust, and partly because of the consequences of your immoral behaviour towards a wife and mother. For Christ's sake, redeem yourself a little, do the right thing now."

He drank the last dregs of his whisky, "But that's what I want. That's why you must help me, to give her a chance to see all that was good in our marriage. To look on it in a different light."

"Well, you'll have to make your own chances. I'm not going to help you."

"Are you saying we need to put this behind us? Well, that's what I want.

I didn't respond, and he was obviously thinking, but then he asked, "What will you say to Molly?"

"I will probably give her as good a verbatim account of this meeting as I can. I see no point in having secrets, in trying to use people or telling only half truths. But I will never interfere in someone else's marriage if I can possibly avoid it. And the one time that I slipped and did cause a problem in yours, well I guess I should apologise for that. I will say this, if Molly wants to talk to you, or to stay married to you, then it doesn't matter what I think."

He stood up and looked at me, he didn't offer me his hand, and I didn't offer mine. He just said, "Thank you for your time." And turned and left.

No sooner than he was out of the door, than Carole was in it. "I heard every word, he left the door open."

I just looked at her, I think I was beyond words, and Carole said, "Don't be sorry for him. I thought you did rather well."

"I am sorry for him. He's pathetic. But that doesn't mean that I don't hate him too."

Just then my phone rang, Carole picked it up, answered it and handed it to me, "Its Dr McBaine." 

I got up and went and sat at my desk. I took the phone, and Carole mouthed, "See you on Monday." And left.

"Yes, Piers?"

It had the hiss and burble of Piers phoning from a party or a pub, "Chris, I'm at the George, and I noticed Peter was missing. I've asked, and apparently he's on his way to see you. I thought I ought to warn you."

"Too late. He's just left."

"How was he?"

"Sad, pathetic and miserable. It was all quite enjoyable really."

"Will he be working on Monday?"

"Who knows? We'll find out on Monday."

"How about a drink one evening next week. You can tell me all about it and you need another lesson in the finer arts. Wednesday?"

"You've got a date." I said.

I did tell Molly all about Peter's visit, after I'd taken the boys out for a cycle ride on Sunday. And we spent a totally futile hour trying to guess what he was going to do. Molly did tell me that Peter only had until Friday, after that her solicitor would be petitioning to proceed with the divorce anyway.

The next meeting for Molly and me to talk was on Tuesday. At my instigation we started going over Peter's courtship of Molly, almost on an hour by hour basis. I also asked her where she was in her meetings with Heather Washington. She admitted that they had got sidetracked into Molly and Susan's relationship. I wasn't surprised, Molly had shocked herself with the vehemence that she felt about Susan. But she did say that the tests she had done about herself in those months had convinced Heather that she had been severely traumatised by the breakdown of our marriage. And in a traumatised state, anyone can be highly susceptible to suggestion, especially from a trusted loved one. Which I guess added up to Jeanette's view of the situation.

I couldn't add a lot to what she was feeling about Susan, except to sympathise. So we returned to the months that led up to her marriage. I did learn about the intensity of Peter's campaign. He was seeing her five or six times a week. On some days they had both lunch and dinner together. It was relentless. And, of course, it was backed up by Susan. When Molly complained, and suggested that Peter should cool it, that he should give her time to get through the divorce at least, it was Susan who argued with her that there was no shame in moving on quickly if she'd found a good man. And in Susan's opinion, Peter was a wonderful man. Apparently Molly and Susan argued twice about this, but Susan won, as she always did.

The conversation was painful to both of us, because as she told it, both of us could see the orchestrated campaign take shape. It made her feel foolish, and it made me angry. It wasn't so much that it hurt me personally, as it made me angry that two human beings would try to manipulate someone who they claimed to love. It was just wrong. I guess from Peter and Susan's point of view, they were helping her, guiding her, supporting her. They probably didn't know themselves how manipulative they were being.

I did have some worries about Molly and Susan. It seemed so dreadful to be permanently estranged from her own mother. I did wonder if some compromise wouldn't be healthier.

I don't know why, but after Molly left on that Tuesday evening, I was feeling dissatisfied, but I wasn't sure what I was dissatisfied with. I wondered if we were approaching the time when I should start raising the idea that this was it. This was as good as it gets. And we might as well accept it, we would be friends, we would provide a united front and a loving relationship for the boys. Maybe we should move on to discuss how we could make that work.

On the Wednesday morning, I had a business breakfast, organised by the Chamber of Commerce. I was seated alongside a rather attractive lady in her early thirties and immaculately dressed. Apparently this was her first breakfast gathering, and she was a bit nervous. Whether it was her nervousness or something else I wasn't sure, but she seemed to want to tell me her whole life story. She had come out of a short but bad marriage some eight years ago, and had focussed on building her own business, a small chain of ladies' fashion shops. She now had seven shops and felt she should now start giving some attention of her personal life, which was why she'd come along to the breakfast. I began to get a message, and I wondered how I felt about it. She was quite attractive, and obviously she found me attractive. But, I was committed to building some sort of relationship with Molly. I had no hope that my relationship with Molly would go much further, it was ridiculous to think otherwise, but I realised that I didn't really fancy this woman. I knew I thought Molly was far more attractive, and that worried me. That I would be trapped into a friendship with Molly that killed any opportunity I might have to build a relationship with anyone else. And that left me in a bad mood all day.




Back to Bristol Ch. 17



So, by the time I got to Piers's Scottish pub that night, I was quite pleased with the timeliness of the meeting. I could bend his ear with my problems. 

"I need to eat." I announced, picking up a menu.

"Well, let's sit down at a table, and you can. But you won't need that." He took the menu card out of my hand, "If you're drinking whisky, well there is only one thing to eat. But I won't join you, I ate with Jeanette before I came out."

So, we found a table, and I ordered my haggis. And Piers got us the first of our whiskies, a Glenkinchie, "Something you know. A good base from which to start."

"So?" was all he asked, as we sipped our drinks. 

"So, I think I need to chew the fat, and to hear the words of wisdom that I'm sure will guide me through a bit of a quandary." But, before that, I had to bring him up to date, which with his questioning got us through three Speyside whiskies, and my meal. 

It had been Piers who decided that my education that night would focus on brand names that I might recognise, and only from Speyside. And for the first three, he had lined them up on the table, with me tasting each in turn, Glen Grant, Glenlivet and a Macallen. And I was very pleased with myself, because I could begin to spot differences between them. By the time we'd finished this phase of the whisky tasting I'd brought Piers up to date on my relationship with Molly, and on Peter and Susan, and even on Molly seeing Heather Washington.

Pier's looked at me, "I think this is a good point to stop the education bit, you've probably learnt enough for tonight anyway. I wouldn't want to over tax your wee managing director's brain, so let's get on to serious drinking. And I suspect, now you really want to talk. Am I right?"

Four whiskies down, and now we get on to the serious drinking! I smiled, "I don't know what to do. I reckon that Molly and I are about at the point where it can't get any better. We're back as honest open friends. I understand what happened, well almost, which helps me. And I've been able to give her some support when she's been going through a pretty rough time. So, at some point, we've got to agree we're friends, and then we can start building the rest of our lives, other relationships and whatever the future holds."

Piers drank the last of his Macallen, and said, "Oh, let's stick to the Speyside." And he ordered two Abelours. Then he looked at me, "Well, there are two gaps in that little scenario."

"Which are?"

"First, you said that you still only almost understand. What don't you understand?"

"I'm beginning to understand what happened to Molly that led her to marry Peter Fucking Davies. He was obsessed by her. He was wooing her on turbo charge. And Susan was aiding and abetting him all the way down the line. For a girl slightly shell-shocked from what had happened in her life, I'm not surprised that she weakened. We talked about it a lot last night, and I am beginning to be convinced, but I'm not totally satisfied. I reckon she should have told him to fuck off, even if that meant a hell of a row with Susan about how cruel she thought Molly was being to a kind and loving man."

"So, you really need to talk some more on that one. OK. And my other question was that you have this idea that you are going to move forward in your life, by which I assume you are going to start dating again, but that Molly is not."

That did leave me a little nonplussed. I hadn't considered Molly dating again. "Well, I sort of assumed that as the mother of two young boys, that her life would be taken up with looking after them. She's got to find somewhere to live for a start." I looked at Piers, "Single parent mothers just divorced don't date, do they? I know she did before, but she was under pressure from Susan, but not when left to her own devices. I guess she will sometime, but I would have thought she'd leave it a while."

"And if she did, how would you feel?"

I thought about that, then I smiled, "Can I have a couple of days notice of that question?"

"Well, if you want to move on to dating, why shouldn't Molly? And how would you feel about that? About bringing another man into your children's lives."

Now that did hit home, "That's unfair, Piers." I sunk my Abelour in one gulp. "But fuck. You're right." I paused again, "This morning I half fancied a woman at a business breakfast I went to. But I didn't fancy her as much as I fancy Molly. And I was scared that that was how it was going to be for the rest of my life. I can't totally reconcile with Molly, but I can't move on either. And you, you fucking bastard, have just given me another angle on that horrible scenario. What happens if I'm stuck in limbo land and she moves on?"

He ignored my rant, and turned to the bar and ordered two Glenrothes. Then he turned back, "So, you fancy Molly, do you? She's still does it for you?"

"Yes. She always has. But that's irrelevant. I'm not going to start screwing her. And it would be totally wrong to try and build a friendship with benefits, as they say. I'm not the most moral person in the world, but that would be unfair on both of us."

Piers sat sipping his Glenrothes, and thinking. "You know Molly has great hopes that she can win you back? She told Jeanette that she was going to do whatever it took, and take as long as it has to. God only knows why, she's attractive enough to get half a dozen men more attractive than you. But, she has been through rather a lot recently, maybe she's not thinking straight."

"Piers, you're doing a Susan. I can feel you pulling my strings. Stop it."

He smiled, "No. I was being healthily disparaging about you. That'll do you no harm. But I have been reminding you that if you want to start playing around, then Molly can as well. And I reckon she's a better catch than you are. Maybe not financially, but in most other respects. And if the Courts give her the proper settlement from Peter, even financially she'll be quite attractive."

We both sipped our whiskies in silence. I couldn't find the loophole in his argument, maybe another whisky would help. I slammed my empty glass down, "What next?"

"Glenfiddich." Piers smiled, "They've got an eighteen year old one back there, but I'd better get them, they won't serve it to a Sassenach."

When we had our fresh whiskies, Piers said, "I know what I would do, if I were you. I'd give it time. Poor Molly has had a horrible time in the last few weeks. She's launched a divorce petition against her husband, and has no idea whether he'll give her a clean and simple divorce, or whether she faces a long drawn out wrangle through the Courts. She's had serious falling out with her mother, and maybe has split from her for ever, and that can't be easy..."

"I told you, she's talking to a counsellor about that." I said.

"Good. There is something very fundamental about our relationship with our mothers. Finding that you can't stand yours must be horrible. But then on top of that, she's finding out some of the things that hit her two sons, and she'll be worried about any aftermath for them. And finally, she's seeing her own father getting a divorce. And however much of a brave face he puts on it, it must be hurting him like Hell, and his daughter will know that."

There was a pause while I took in quite how bad Molly's situation has been. But then Piers continued, "I don't think having the love of her life telling her that he's only a good friend, and that he has other plans, is quite what she wants at the moment."

I sipped my whisky, and I wished he hadn't said that.

Piers continued, "It won't hurt you to tread water for a couple of weeks. And anyway, it'll give you a chance to finish finding out quite why the hell she married a man she never loved."

I finished my whisky. The alcohol was making me quiet this evening. But Piers didn't seem to mind. He asked, "How is Molly standing up to all the things going on in her life at the moment?"

I thought about that for a moment, then replied, "Really well, actually. OK, she gets upset or uptight, who wouldn't? But, she's remaining pretty level headed about it all. Why? Did I imply otherwise?"

"No, I just wanted to check. What shall we have as a last one? I think I saw a twenty five year old Knockando hidden at the end of the shelf. That'll do nicely."

When we had our final whiskies which looked to be doubles to my mind, I fell back into my silent thoughtfulness, but I was aware that Piers was sitting the other side of the table just quietly looking at me.

"What?" was all I asked.

"I was thinking, in some ways, you are a lucky bastard. And I wondering what was special about you."

"OK. I guess you're going to explain how being up to my neck in this shit makes me a lucky bastard."

"Well, you have something that most married men don't. Oh, we all want to believe that we are wanted, are absolutely essential to our wives' lives. But you know it." 

He paused, and looked at me, but I guess I just look mystified and was waiting for him to continue. Which he did, "When Molly lost you out of her life, her life went down the pan, it was shit. She took stupid decisions, she allowed stupid things to happen. Her life wasn't properly manageable without you. She was lost. But, now you're there again, well she can cope with dreadful things happening, and remain level headed. I'd like to think that Jeanette would be lost without me, but I don't know. You do know that about Molly."

"God! You like to lay it on with a trowel, don't you?" I observed, and he smiled, but I continued, "What are you saying? That Molly is some weak willed slut, and it's my duty to be there to protect her from herself? No thank you."

"No. And you know I'm not. Molly is a strong person. She's no slut, and don't try and make out that she is, just because she made a mistake once. No, but even strong people aren't always so strong if they don't have their loving support systems around them. You and Molly are stronger together than apart. You know it and you have the proof." He paused, "And I'm probably drunk, so you'll have to make up your own mind as to whether it's vino veritas, or the ramblings of a drunk."

"Which seems a good point to say goodnight." I said and started to stand.

"No coffee, or even a fleeting taste of the Orkneys?"

"No thanks Piers. Give my love to Jeanette, but I told the driver to pick me up from here. He should be outside waiting."

And that's how we left it. Piers had done his job. He'd given me some fresh angles of things. Damn him!

By the time I got to my Thursday meeting with Molly, I'd got no further in my thinking than not to make waves. Instead, we continued to talk a lot about how Peter got her to agree to his marriage proposal. And slowly but surely I was beginning to have some understanding of what happened. 

Molly did admit, after a lot of fairly deep talking, that she had felt a tremendous urge for a rebound relationship. She had lost her husband, she desperately needed a new one. I had some understanding of that. I remembered the sad and desperate trawls I made through seedy pubs and clubs, looking for a woman, any woman. I know it was very important to me to prove that I was still a man, that I could still attract and satisfy the female of the species. I guess the same was true for Molly.

So, in the end, I guess I just have to accept that Molly fell into a totally stupid marriage under the relentless pressure of Peter, who was obsessed by her. And under the pressure of Susan, who was desperate to see her daughter with a safe, middle class future based in Bristol. And under her own pressure of needing a man. Plus all the corruption and collusion and lying and cheating thrown in for good measure. It all added up to a good person making a dreadful mistake.

Understanding it in my head didn't necessarily convince my heart. I still hurt and I was still angry. And our conversation very quickly disintegrated into me telling her what a pity it was that Susan took all her telephones away, that she couldn't pick up a phone and talk to me. It was a pity that somehow she felt she owed Peter such loyalty that she had to date him all the time and never had a chance to come and see me. My sarcasm wasn't wasted, it only took me about ten minutes to reduce her to tears. An evening that should have finished with the satisfaction of knowing and understanding the truth ended in tears and recriminations.

It was that Friday, just after lunch, and I was in my office, girding my loins for the afternoon, when Molly phoned me. I thought, here we go again, Susan's done something.

"Sorry to phone you, but I had to tell you. I've just heard from my solicitor. Apparently, Peter has appointed a solicitor, and the divorce can go through uncontested. And he accepts the financial settlement."

"Great. You must be so relieved."

"I am. Actually, he has some minor changes to the settlement. He wants to preserve the Welsh cottage as his, although its value will be accounted for. And I must return all the jewellery he ever gave me except for my engagement and wedding rings. I suspect that's slightly wrong, I think his solicitor has made a mistake. I think all he wants back is his mother's jewellery, but I'm not going to argue, he can have the lot back. He has accepted that I get fifty percent of the total net worth, which is good."

"Well done." I answered.

"It's all down to you. It's because of what you said to him last Friday. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you." 

She was bubbling. It was obviously a great relief that he was conceding.

I'd just about put the phone down on her, when Carole came in. "Who would destroy the peace and tranquillity of your Friday afternoon the most? Because she's sitting outside wanting to see you."

"Susan? Fuck! As you say, shit happens." I paused and thought, "OK. I guess you'd better show her in. But what does she want with me, she hates my guts?" As Carole turned to go, I added, "And definitely, no tea or coffee."

Carole turned back towards me, "Arsenic?"

"Don't tempt me. Just tell her to park her broomstick and come in."

As Susan came through the door, I looked up, "Susan. I can't say I'm not rather surprised to see you. Do take a seat."

She sat down at my desk. I looked at her, she simply looked awful. She not only looked tired and old, but she hadn't even brushed her hair properly.

"Chris. I thought I'd come and see the organ grinder and not the monkey."

"And who do you see as the monkey?"

"Does it matter? I know it's you that is orchestrating this campaign against Peter and myself." She paused, and then added, "You've got to make it stop, before some real damage is done."

"Don't you think helping to wreck my marriage to your daughter was real damage? I do."

"But that was a long time ago. I know Molly and Ralph are upset with me for what I did then. But it's all a long time ago. I'm sixty next year. I won't be on this planet for that much longer, and you're trying to separate me from the people I love the most. I need you to make them see sense."

Do all ex-mothers live in cloud cuckoo land, or is it just mine? "Susan, to the very best of my knowledge, both Ralph and Molly have come to their own personal views on you and on what you did. And I don't think either of them like you very much. If you've got problems with that, well you'll have to take it up with them. But I warn you, I think it's too late. The damage is done, and I don't think they're about to forgive you."

She smiled, a sickly smile, "But that's why I've come to see you. I know you don't like what I did. I suppose I can't blame you for that. But, you know the truth now, and I see you haven't reconciled with Molly, so I assume you are happy with the way things turned out. But you can't really believe that it is reasonable for Ralph to divorce me, or for Molly to not only refuse to see me, but to stop me seeing Jamie and Ben. What am I meant to do? They're my own kith and kin, I can't be cut of from them. You must see that."

"Well, I suggest you start getting used to the idea. And no, I'm not happy that you did your utmost to separate Jamie and Ben from their father. That was plain wrong, and potentially damaging to two young innocent boys. So, I'm not going to interfere on your behalf. Isn't that what you used to tell Ralph, that he mustn't interfere? Tell you what, why don't you write Ralph and Molly letters? And I'll post them for you."

She grimaced, angrily, "I suppose you think that's smart. All I ever wanted was my family around me, is that so wrong? Was I wrong to fight for something good like that? You're a businessman, you know you have to go out and get what you want in this world."

"Not at the expense of betraying your own loved ones. They don't trust you, and trust, once lost is never easily regained. Forget it, Susan. You got caught, and now you pay the price."

"But it's all in the past. Of course they can trust me. Why shouldn't they?"

I sighed, "Let's take something mundane. You think Ralph's a bit overweight, say, and you've been nagging him a bit about it. Well, then you come home from the supermarket, and say that they didn't have his favourite type of cheese. Now is that honest, or are you lying to force him to eat the tasteless half fat version you bought? He knows you are willing to lie and cheat and be dishonest to get what you want. It will permeate every day life, every action that you take. He doesn't trust you. And, as I understand it, he's not willing to live like that, and I can hardly blame him."

"No. No, you're wrong. Ralph married me until death us do part, for better or worse. He's a good, honest man. He may be upset with me now, but he'll get over it. He'll not let us split up over this. He won't go ahead with this divorce idea. He's just angry with me, but he'll see sense. It's Molly that I'm worried about. She said some dreadful things to me, and I've waited, and she hasn't apologised. I guess you won't let her. Well, you've got to, she's my daughter; she's part of my life. Don't you see that?"

"Molly has made her decision about you. It is nothing to do with me, but I will support her with what she's decides, even if she changes her mind. Personally, I think you're an evil selfish bitch. But if I have to, I will treat you civilly. I won't change my mind about you, but I will treat you civilly."

She smiled, almost in victory, "No, you're wrong. You don't know them or understand them at all. But I'm wasting my time. Well, you've had your chance. When all of this has blown over, you won't be welcome at my house, ever. You're a cruel, manipulative man. And you seem to bear grudges. I thought you were ambitious and selfish, but I never thought you'd stoop this low. But I can see I was wrong."

She stood up and turned to leave. I purposely picked up a paper on my desk and pretended to read it, "Goodbye, Susan."

She was no sooner out of the door, than Carole was in it. "OK?" was all she asked.

I smiled, "You work for a cruel, manipulative man. Did you know that?"

Carole smiled, "Yes." 

I laughed, and it eased the tension in my body. "What is it about Fridays? Three weeks ago it was Susan. Last week it was Peter. This week it's Susan again. Would you please phone Peter Davies and tell him that next Friday's meeting has been postponed indefinitely.

Carole laughed and then said, "They're queuing at the door. You're running late now."

"OK. Show them in, and let's get back to business. But, can you do me a favour?" I handed her my phone, "Phone Molly, please. And warn her that Susan is in Bristol, she's seen me, and now we don't know where she's gone. But don't panic her."

"I see. Your mother's on the warpath, she's probably looking for you. But don't worry." She smiled.

Of course, as Carole brought in the tea during my meeting, she told me that I was now expected to have dinner with Molly and Ralph as soon as I left work, just to tell them all about Susan's visit.




Back to Bristol Ch. 17



Over dinner, I learnt that Susan hadn't tried to contact either of them, but what impressed me was Ralph's grim determination to divorce Susan. It made me wonder if there had been other problems in that marriage, or was it that Ralph had tasted freedom and liked it? And he warned us, the estimate was that in the next week Susan would get her copy of the divorce petition. That promised to be fun. 

I didn't please Molly on Saturday. I took Jamie and Ben shopping without her, and that didn't go down well. I hadn't been shopping with them for nearly five years. And it was so wonderfully average and normal, and I wanted to do that, on my own and without pressure. And I bought them all sorts of clothes that they assured me were the fashion, and which I thought made them look like every other child on the street. But on Sunday, I went for a long cycle ride again, all by myself. I felt that I had things to think about. And I was aware that I was under pressure, that Molly was just quietly waiting for me to fall, as if she was sitting under a ripening apple. And I didn't like that and I think I came back angrier than when I went.

I remembered what Piers had said, it wouldn't hurt me to tread water, so I tried to suppress my frustration and anger, aware that Molly and Ralph had too much going on in their lives already. But, on Tuesday evening at my place, it started to spill out.

We'd had a nice meal, which I'd brought in with me. It was just a ready prepared meal from the supermarket, but it was good. And we were gently discussing Peter, and she made the mistake of asking if I'd forgiven her yet for that fateful afternoon.

"No. Of course I haven't forgiven you for betraying our marriage. Of betraying and failing our family. Of doing something that was immoral and stupid and just plain wrong!" 

From there, my language when downhill, my volume went uphill, and my diatribe just continued. She just took it all, she didn't defend herself, she hardly replied, except to say sorry. She did try calling a break by suggesting that she'd make a couple of mugs of coffee, but that just set me off again.

"Well be careful, make sure you don't spill any hot water."

She left at about nine thirty looking pale and shocked. I was quite sorry to see her go, I still had plenty that I wanted to say. But I had to save it for Thursday, which I did. And I still had some left over for the following Tuesday. And I was still going strong on the Thursday after that.

I knew I was wrong, and I didn't like myself. I wasn't adding anything new to our relationship, if anything I was destroying it. I was quite surprised when she seemed to keep coming back for more. She never complained, she just came back the next time with a bright smile and we would eat, and then she would provoke me with something she said, like 'How was your day?' 

What man could resist responding under such heavy provocation? "How do you think my day was? I spent some of it wondering why I'm spending two evenings a week trying to build a relationship with a girl who betrays me, betrays every ounce of trust I ever had in her. Who breaks up our family rather than come to me and beg forgiveness. Who quite deliberately allows our two sons to go fatherless for years....."

Oh, I was good. I was very good. "Please pass the salt." Was enough to set me off for a one hour rant on rubbing salt into the wounds, on how betrayed I felt, on how lonely my years in the wilderness were.

It was nine forty on that second Thursday of my explosions and I was staring at the back of my front door, out of which a pale and shaken Molly had just left, when I thought, 'You really have fucked it up, Chris.' 

I poured myself a whisky, and thought, 'being upset once in a while over what she did is one thing, but balling her out for five meetings in a row is something else.' I had another whisky.

It was Carole that brought the subject up the next day, "By the look of your eyes, I see you've taken to the bottle to solve whatever it is."

"In the absence of a better solution, alcohol does very nicely."

She sat down, "So tell me about it."

"I'm not sure I want to, I don't like myself very much at the moment."

"I haven't thought a lot of you for the past couple of weeks either, what with the mood you've been in, and I'd like to know why."

I sighed, "Because...... No, you tell me, why is it that I could meet our biggest competitor walking through that door and I'd greet him with a smile and chat amicably? Even Peter Fucking Davies can walk in here and get a civilised conversation. But if Molly walked in, you'd here the swearing and bile at the other end of the building within thirty seconds."

"So, it's not going too well then? I guess there had to be a rough time. Isn't that progress?"

"I don't think that me losing control is progress. If she walked in now, I promise you, I'd probably find fault with her, and explode without her even saying a word. If she was wearing a short skirt, then it'd be 'I see you like to advertise what a slut you are' and if she was wearing a long skirt, it'd be 'I see your trying not to let on as to your true nature'. I promise you, Carole, I've only got to see her and I'm off. And I know that I don't really mean half of it, and I certainly don't want to hurt her just for the sake of it." I sighed, "I wouldn't mind so much if it made me feel any better, but it doesn't."

"I'm no psychiatrist, but years ago she hurt you deeply, and it's got to come out. And it is apparently, that's a good thing, isn't it? Only when you've cleared the air can you go forward."

"Oh, I grant you, the reason is obvious, it's a big hurt with five year's interest. But there is no where to go forward to. We were there already, with a really good easy going friendship and I seemed to be intent on destroying all of that."

"Well drink won't help you recover it." She looked at me and paused thoughtfully, "How about taking her out to dinner? Nothing special, but being out in public might stop you being quite so destructive. You could still say what you want, but in a more reasonable way." 

I thought about that, and it seemed a good idea, and I said so. But whether I'll get a chance remains to be seen.

I took the boys out cycling on Sunday. But I collected them from Molly with hardly any words being spoken between us. I thought she looked more tired than I've ever seen her. I asked the boys, "How's your mother? I thought she was looking a bit strained."

Jamie looked at me, "You should know, Dad. You see her twice a week." 

God! I fucking wish my nine year old son wasn't so wise.

When I got them back, it was Ralph who met me, and once the bikes were unloaded, it was he who said, "I think it's time to revise an old habit. A glass of sherry in the shed, perhaps?"

Whilst he poured the sherry, I asked, "How's the divorce and Susan?"

He smiled grimly, "Well, she's bending my ear at every opportunity she gets, to tell me that I'm the worse husband in the world, or how much she wants to come back and work things out. The contradiction of that seems to go unnoticed. But I have a real premonition that divorcing her isn't going to be as easy as it seems."

"Problems?" I asked "I would have thought you have sufficient grounds."

"Not in the actual divorce, but she's making it awkward for me in the settlement. My solicitor thinks that there's no problem in the lump sum bit. Sell this house and she gets fifty percent of the house and our savings. Simple. No, she seems to be setting herself up to argue about her pension."

"You can't do anything about that. She'll have a chunk of your pension, whether you like it or not. I'm sorry, Ralph, but that's the way it is."

"Oh, I know that, and I'm not actually arguing about that. It's just that I want to preserve my pension all for me. I want to buy her an annuity of her own, out of my share of our capital. That way I keep up my high income, and I can afford the holidays and lifestyle I want. Even having bought her an annuity, I'll have enough to buy myself a small place with a bit of a garden, and that's all I want."

"So, what's the problem?"

"Arguing about the comparative values of different annuities will keep actuaries and lawyers happy for years. And at the end of it there won't be enough money left after their fees to actually buy the bloody thing."

"Oh. I don't think I can help you with that one."

"No, you can't. Actually, I think Susan is only using it as an excuse to hang on in there until I come to my senses. She'll have a long wait."

"Good luck."

We paused and sipped our sherries.

It was Ralph that broke the silence, "Did Molly tell you? She's got a Court date for her decree nisi. Her divorce seems to be going like clockwork after that rough start."

"So, when is it?"

"The twelfth of September. Then six weeks later and she's free of him."

"It can't be much more than about ten weeks to the twelfth of September. As you say, it has gone like clockwork."

Ralph looked at me, "But your talking to her hasn't, has it?"

I hung my head, and asked, "What has she said?"

"Well, I don't know how long you two have been not getting along, but I first noticed it on the Tuesday of the week before last. I was getting myself some warm milk just before I went to bed, so I guess it was just gone eleven when she came in. And she looked rather worn. I assumed it was just one rough night, that's to be expected, and said as much. But, last night I had to talk to her. In the last few days I've never seen her look rougher, not since you two first broke up." He looked up at me, in the eyes, and said, "She's at the end, Chris. Whatever is going on, she can't take much more of it."

"And you know what's going on. I'm not proud of it, Ralph. I just don't seem able to stop myself. She says something quite innocent, and I open my mouth and it all pours out."

"It's not all bad. She knows that it's been pent up inside you for a long time now. It's just hard for her to take, especially as she had such great hopes for you both. She was in tears last night, she really does think you're at the end. She's beginning to believe that she hurt you so badly that there is no repairing it."

I sipped my sherry and thought, "Just a minute. Back up a second. Did you say she's not getting in until past eleven o'clock?"

He looked surprised at my question, "She hasn't been in before eleven for a couple of weeks now. Why?"

"Because she leaves me no later than ten, frequently well before that. And at that time of night, it'd only take half an hour at the most between here and my place. What is she doing?"

He paused and thought for a moment, "My guess is she's sitting in some lay-by somewhere, crying her eyes out. Whatever else you do, Chris, you've got to stop it."

"Oh, God! What sort of man am I? I never meant to do that to her. I lose my temper, but not to hurt her that much."

"Well, find another way. I don't know... hold her hand as you do it. Or try not to raise your voice. Or ... Oh I don't know, find your own way. But it can't go on like this."

"Carole at work suggested that I take her out to a restaurant. I couldn't shout and swear there."

"That might do. I suggested to her that she answers you back. Gives as good as she gets. But she just looked at me, and said 'How can I when I deserve every word he says?' Find another way, Chris, or give up, or maybe just call a halt for a while, but you can't go on like this."

I swigged back the last of my sherry, "I agree. Tell her I'm sorry. You know I never meant to hurt her that much?"

"I know that and so does she."

"Tell her I'll see her on Tuesday, and we'll try to talk about where we go from here."

On Monday in the office, Carole asked "How was your weekend?"

"I think I now know, beyond any certainty or doubt, that I'm a cruel, heartless shit. My ex-father took the trouble to tell me quite how much I'm hurting Molly with my tirades. So, I guess the weekend can go down in history as not one of my best."

"Don't get upset with yourself because you have feelings. No one has that depth of hurt and anger if they don't care. Just learn to dish it out in smaller doses. What have you got planned for tomorrow evening? Are you going to take up my idea of a restaurant?"

I shook my head, "No. I need a meeting, and it has to be in private. I think there could be tears from either of us or both of us. We can't go on like this. I had the start of a really good friendship right here in my hand, and I've blown it. Everything that I ever hoped for out of this damn mess was in sight. And now I can't see any alternative but to just give up. We tried, and I failed."

I left work slightly early on Tuesday evening, I wanted to get home before Molly arrived, and I wanted the meal to be a bit special, just something to at least say I was sorry.

When she arrived she let herself in, but I heard her and met her in the hallway. She looked more nervous and paler than I ever remember seeing her. She was dressed nicely, in a simple blue summer dress, that showed off her cleavage, and she's got good boobs. But her eyes looked as if they hadn't closed for sleep in a month.

I kissed her on the cheek, she had that perfume, my perfume. "Come on in. We need to talk." And I led the way back into the living room.

I turned and looked at her. "I'm sorry. I just don't seem to be able to control my temper and I know I've hurt you. I never meant to do that. I'm sorry."

She half smiled, "You never said anything that I haven't said to myself a thousand times. I've spent the last five years saying those things in my private thoughts. It's just that I never realised how deeply I must of hurt you. I can't bear to hear your pain. I'm sorry." And she burst into tears.

I looked at her for a moment, then I went and poured two gin and tonics, but I squeezed her shoulder as I passed, in a gesture of sympathy.

When I turned round with the drinks, to pass her one, she was sitting on the sofa, drying her eyes on a handkerchief. "Susan used to say: men don't feel these things like women do. I guess somewhere, I must have believed that at least a little bit. I thought, after all this time, there was a chance for us. I guess I should never have hoped, I don't deserve it."

"You don't deserve what I've been doing for the past couple of weeks." I paused, "Drink your drink. It'll make you feel better."

She sipped her G&T, and then looked up, "Are we at the end?"

I paused, choosing my words, "Stay for something to eat. It's veal, your favourite. But Yes, maybe we are. Sorry."



Back to Bristol Ch. 18



The meal that evening was fairly desultory, although the food was good. We talked about neutral things, we agreed that maybe we should start talking in earnest about private schools for the boys from September, especially as she now lived outside of the proper catchment area for their current school. Then we talked safely about old friends and acquaintances, ones we'd lost because of the divorce, or because I'd moved away, or because they'd moved away.

And that led to my mentioning that I'd met up with Keith and Anne Walters, and that they were now living in San Diego. Which in turn led to a conversation about life on the West Coast of the States. Which in turn led to Molly talking about how she had always wanted to visit Las Vegas. 

Now my first visit to Las Vegas was about nine months after our divorce. And my memory was of a really charming and quite beautiful girl who I picked up in a bar at about eleven o'clock one night, and by two o'clock she was in my bed at my hotel. She really was a nice person and the sex was good if pretty vanilla. But my real memory was of me coming out of the bathroom the next morning, and she was just waking up, with her long brunette hair splayed across the pillow, and she opened her eyes and saw me and smiled. A pretty, soft and loving smile. I just looked at her coldly, and told her that I was off to a breakfast meeting, and that she was welcome to call room service for some breakfast, and that I'd see her around. My very last memory of her was with a tear rolling down her face, as I walked out.

And so Molly got the full benefit of my bitter lecture on how her fucking stupid thoughtlessness, her selfish lust, lead to hurt and pain for others. "Throw a pebble into a pond and there are ripples, Molly. Just because you wanted to be fucked by Peter Davies one afternoon, some poor girl who you don't know, haven't met and probably will never meet, ends up in tears in a hotel bedroom in Las Vegas."

Molly turned and looked at me, her eyes were blazing, "No, Chris. No. I'll take the blame for what I did wrong. I'll go to my grave feeling guilty about that. But I am not going to be blamed for what you did some eighteen months later and some five thousand miles away, to some girl who I've never met. That was your choice, Chris. You were a grown man and a responsible adult. I didn't reduce that girl to tears, you did." Her voice was full of anger and choking with emotion, her eyes were streaming tears. She stood up and stormed from the room, heading for the front door.

I caught up with her in the hall. I grabbed her arm, "Don't go....."

"Why not? So that you can find an argument that you can hang on me. I've heard it Chris. I know it Chris. And I don't need it, not anymore."

"Because.......Because...." 

Because what? Because I loved her? Or needed time to say sorry? Or because we couldn't end this way? I was just choosing my words, and looking at her with tears in my eyes.

She took one step towards me, and put her arms around me and simply kissed me, fully on the mouth. And I kissed her back. And on the second kiss, my arms went round her, and I kissed her harder.

Eventually, our heads parted and I looked into her eyes, "Let's go to bed." was all I said, and I took her hand and led her to the bedroom.

She didn't say a word, but she unzipped her dress and let it fall to the floor. Under it she was wearing a matching bra and thong in coffee silk and cream lace, and hold-up stockings and high heeled sandals. And she looked fabulous.

I can't say we made love, but it was hell of a lot more than just fucking. There was no foreplay, no oral either way. And it was all missionary position. I changed with the waves of emotion that rolled over me, sometimes I pumped very, very slowly, and watched her, propping myself up on straightened arms above her. Other times, I hammered into her, with my face pressed into her neck and the pillow above her shoulder. I did notice that whenever possible, she watched me. I've never made love to Molly before when she hasn't shut her eyes, but except for when she rode her orgasms, she watched me, looking into my face whenever she could.

Eventually, I came in a sweaty, thumping, pile driving final couple of minutes. And I rolled off her.

As we lay quietly, getting our breath back and staring at the ceiling, Molly asked in a quiet voice, "Why? Why now? Why as I was about to walk out?"

I paused to choose my words, "Because I suddenly saw something that I hadn't realised was missing, but I need so much." I propped myself up my elbow and looked at her, "For a big part of my life I'm a professional managing director. Its what I am, its who I am. And I become the team leader, the businessman; the man who watches for effectiveness and efficiency; who cares about use of assets and how markets are moving. But, I never have a true in depth knowledge or experience of the industry I'm in, it's not the ITI way. So, it's very easy for me to talk absolute crap. To say something that I think is brilliant and very profound, but actually is total bullshit. And very few people will tell me so. Piers probably would. Carole definitely would, if she got to hear of it. Neil might, if it was something professional about HR and Group policy. But the others, I doubt it. They might suggest that we revisit the idea later, or that maybe a consultant should be called in to look at it, but not actually say to me what needs to be said, that it was a crap idea." I paused and put my arm across her body, just below her breasts, "But, suddenly I saw the old Molly. The one who wouldn't take crap from me. And I need that, deep down I need it a lot."

I flopped back down to stare at the ceiling again. But then a thought crossed my mind, "You were dressed rather nicely under that dress tonight. Did you know this would happen?"

She laughed, "No. If you'd made this move on any of the evenings we've had together in what? Eight weeks? You'd have found me in nice bra's and thongs or strings or lacy panties, and stockings. Tonight, when I showered, I wondered, should I bother? I really thought we were through. I think I dressed as a one last show of bravado for my own sake."

"I'm glad you did."

"I could do it again, if you like."

"Have sex or wear sexy lingerie?"

She knelt up alongside me, looking down. "Both." She said, with a smile. She looked down at my cock, and there appeared to be some hesitation about her.

"What is it?" I asked, concerned she'd seen something nasty.

She looked back at, right into my eyes, "Are we talking again? Are we going to be doing this again?" 

"I hope so. Why?"

"Because I was about to do something that I've wanted to do for so long. I was going to suck you. Do you know, I realised that I can't really remember what you taste like, what you smell like? And I've wanted to be able to do that for so long. I know I used to love sucking you, it really was important to me to be that close to you. And I haven't been able to do that for years." She gave me a serious look, "I really have missed you Chris, remember I haven't had any man in my mouth for so long. And I was just about to do it, but I realised that you probably smell and taste a bit of me at the moment, and that's not what I want." She smiled, "Not that I object to sucking you after you've been in me, but I want just pure you. So, I'll do that another time."

"Let's make it a date. How's Thursday in your diary? I could manage having a blow job on Thursday, and I'd hate you to have to go too much longer without satisfying your curiosity."

She smiled. "I could manage that." 

"Fancy a coffee?" I asked, I didn't want to break up the sex, but I did want to talk. So, when she said Yes, I told her to wait there, in bed, and I went off to the kitchen and came back with two mugs of coffee.

Once we were settled again, I said "Can we go back to the fateful afternoon a moment? I have a question."

Molly was obviously listening and waiting, so I continued, "It's something Jeanette said. She suggested that one of the reasons for your mistake may have been that we had fallen into the habit of safe, vanilla sex, because of the boys and the general pressures of life. That having spontaneous sex was normal and exciting and you missed it, and happily responded when it was available, but it was just the wrong man."

She thought about that for quite some time, sipping her coffee. "It's not an excuse. You know that, don't you Chris? I'm not making excuses. But, Yes, I did miss some of the naughtier things we used to do. But I don't know if it influenced me that afternoon or not, and certainly not consciously."

"I missed them too. I just thought it was something that went with having two little boys running around the place. The kitchen table in the middle of Sunday afternoon was out." I said with a laugh.

She smiled, "Do you remember our first house, before Jamie. It might have been the cause of Jamie, come to think of it. Every room, including that silly little guest toilet. I put so much pressure on that door that time, with my foot sticking straight out, that the door lock always used to jam slightly from that day on. It always made me smile when a guest could be heard rattling the door before it would open."

"Well, maybe there's a lesson in this to be learnt by both of us."

She raised her coffee mug in a toast, "To slightly kinky, spontaneous, sex. But in private."

And privately, to myself, I promised we would just gently push the envelope.

On Wednesday, my mood must have been obvious, because Carole brought me my first cup of coffee, looked at me and said, "Well, obviously you sorted something out last night, and you are happy with it."

I smiled, "I had a long talk to the delectable Molly. It was a bit touch and go at times, but we got there." And I winked.

She smiled, "And you delected! Well that explains a lot. But it is good progress. Immoral, but good progress."

"Why immoral?"

"Because she is a married woman, and not to you. That was the problem in the first place." She paused, "But I guess to the Catholics you're still married first time around, so I guess they wouldn't mind."

"I'm not a theologian, but I think even they may find fault with that argument."

"Well, while you're in a good mood, let me spoil it for you."

"What?" I said with trepidation.

"The powers that be want you at their strategy planning conference in Cannes, Friday to Sunday, 17th to 19th of August. To be followed by attending and speaking at the Group Conference in Hawaii, 3rd to 7th of September."

"Nice places." I said, forlornly. "In business terms it could make me, but in private terms I'm not so sure. I assume I don't have an option."

"Not really. And you can nominate two ordinary members of staff to go to the Hawaii conference with you. And can I come? I've never been to Hawaii, please Sir, please. I promise to be good. Pretty please."

I smiled, "What do they mean by ordinary? And aren't any other directors invited?"

"I don't know, the guide lines vaguely refer to executives who make an outstanding contribution. And no other directors are going. It is an exercise in corporate communication and involvement." She shrugged, and added, "Don't ask me."

"Well, I guess the obvious two are Piers McBaine and Stephen Hobbs. That way there is a representative of all three establishments. And they'll be good company if I'm going to be trapped in some hotel with them. But you'd better check that they are acceptable before you say anything." I paused, "So who's waiting outside, queuing to see me?"

"Myra, with the Abbey development project."

"Then send in the delected Myra."

"I'd forget about that if I were you." Carole said as she left my office.

The meeting with Myra was good. There are occasional business colleagues where you know how they're thinking, and they know how you're thinking. And when you're both on the same side it saves so much time and trouble. I agreed to setting up a group to work with an architect to design new, purpose built laboratories. And I promised to tell Piers all about it, and to launch the project. What I also knew, and didn't talk about, is that Peter Davies has to be a member of that project.

On the Thursday, I got in to find Molly cooking in the kitchen. She greeted me with a big smile, and came over to me and kissed me on the lips. Then she stood back and looked worried.

I held both her hands, "I meant it on Tuesday, it wasn't a dream, we are back on some sort of track, to see where we end up. As I promised you at Longleat."

She kissed me again, "And I meant it on Tuesday, you've got a date with a blow job. Remember?"

"I'll let you into a secret, men tend not to forget that sort of appointment. What do you fancy, a glass of wine or a little taster?"

"I fancy a little taster, but I'll have a glass of wine."

"How about both?" I asked with a hopeful smile....

And from that night on, we were back to where we were before I'd done my best to spoil it all. But there were two major changes. First, there was sex. Great sex. Second, there was a major change in me. I still didn't know if we could put it all back together again, but now I wanted Molly and my family back in my life like I've never wanted anything before. 

The sex was so important. I guess it released us from all the frustrations and tensions that a celibate life would have imposed. But it was so much more than that. It allowed us to talk. All the delicate discussions that both of us would have had difficulty with, normally because of the fear of hurting the other one, became possible in that open, honest, relaxed atmosphere after sex. 

We also relaxed a little from the rigidity of the Tuesday and Thursday night schedule. In fact, on that first Saturday, I took her to the theatre, and for dinner afterwards, although we scrupulously and without a word being said avoided significant restaurants in King Street. I did note in my mind that there was another hurdle to be overcome. I wouldn't have no go areas in my life, and certainly not ones created by Peter Fucking Davies.

I'm not saying our relationship was easy, because it wasn't. It was easy in parts. We seemed to have an understanding, that we were in each others lives, and maybe that was going to be true for the rest of our lives. And we were happy and easy around each other. But we still had a lot of issues to work out, and we were a long way from living happily ever after.

For the rest of July we were on some sort of high of having rediscovered each other sexually, but that calmed down by the last Tuesday of the month, which was the last day of the month. We again talked about the boys schooling, and agreed that for their sake it would be better to leave them where they were for another term. Officially their address was still Peter and Molly's old house, so they did officially live in the correct catchment area, and we had no idea where Molly was going to live in the long term, and they had enough going on in their lives, they didn't need to change to a new and temporary school.

We also agreed that they needed a holiday, and we spent a large part of the evening sitting up in bed, after the sex, booking Molly and the boys to go and stay in a nice looking villa in Majorca for the two weeks that started on the day I would fly to Cannes.

And, finally, the month ended on a down note, when Molly told me that her Aunt Brenda had phoned her. Apparently, she was mystified with all that was going wrong in Susan's life, and needed to talk to someone. Ralph had basically put the phone down on Derek when he'd tried, so Brenda was trying with Molly. But Molly didn't want to talk to anyone associated with Susan. So she asked me to do it. Great! More bloody Susan.

So, I did phone Brenda, but they couldn't meet me in the evenings, because they ran a guest house, and I didn't want to meet in the daytime because I liked to work for my living. Eventually, I agreed to meet both Brenda and Derek, but definitely not Susan, in my office on the Friday, for a sandwich lunch. Bloody Friday again!

They arrived late, which annoyed me more. I looked at them, Brenda was obviously Susan's sister, slightly older, but she had kinder eyes and a warmer smile. Derek had a cheerful, open face and a ready smile. I thought they seemed right somehow for running a seaside guesthouse. 

Apparently they'd had an unhappy guest that morning that had delayed them, and I understood from the "So, it's all the more important that we understand what's been going on." comment that Susan had upset the guest.

Once we'd sat down, and had chosen our drinks from the cans that Carole had laid out, I held out my hands as an invitation to start talking.

Derek started, "Well, first, thank you Chris for seeing us. I hope you can help. Let me explain, from our point of view." He paused and took a breath, "Some weeks ago Susan phoned and said she wanted to get away for a bit, could she come and stay? We sort of read between the lines that she and Ralph had some sort of problem, so we said yes. But it was low season, and she could actually help. It would save us a week or two of taking on seasonal staff, and we weren't fully booked, so she was welcome to use a bedroom. But that was weeks ago, and it is now high season. And Ralph is divorcing her, and she's very upset. We can understand that, but she tends to talk to some of the guests, and she can go on a bit about her troubles, and it's all becoming a bit of a problem."

I smiled, "I can understand that. But, she has money. I can't believe that Ralph is not making her an allowance. So why not charge her?"

"Well, it's a bit awkward. She is Brenda's sister, and she is going through a bad patch, and we said she could stay if she helped out a bit. And she's doing that, sort of. But she's in a guest bedroom, not a staff room, and it's all been going on too long."

"Well, I'm not sure there is anything I can do. Ralph's divorcing her, his mind is made up. She's got to start building her own life. Why not encourage her to rent a flat somewhere?"

Brenda put her sandwich down and asked, "Do you know why Ralph is divorcing her? We don't. I'm not sure that Susan really understands, she knows he's upset with her over something she said or did to Molly, but apparently that was years ago. We know that Molly is upset with her as well. We were wondering if you could talk to Molly, get her to patch things up with Susan, then Ralph might forgive her or whatever. And even if he doesn't, then maybe Susan could go and live with Molly for a bit, we understand that Molly's marriage has fallen apart as well, and she used to be so close to her mother, they might get on well at the moment. They're both sort of in the same boat."

I chewed on my ham and salad sandwich, and then I drank some of my orange juice, very aware that there were two expectant faces looking at me, watching me. I was wondering just how much I should say, but the truth seemed the easiest answer. So I did, in fairly short and concise terms, tell them the truth as I knew it.

They asked a couple of questions along the way, and I was just finishing with "So, Molly's divorce comes up on September 12th. And Molly and myself talk a lot, but whether we'll actually get back together I don't know. One thing I'm certain about is that at the moment, Molly wants to have nothing to do with her mother whatsoever. Personally, that worries me a bit, but as for Ralph, I think he's just decided that he'd be happier without her than with her." Just then, Carole put her head round the door, I guess she was just back from her own lunch and thought Brenda and Derek either never showed or would be gone by now.

Brenda and Derek looked at each other. I felt they didn't know what to say. I had realised from the questions they asked, Susan had given them some idea of what the problems were, without ever telling them the full story.




Back to Bristol Ch. 18



I looked at them and smiled, "Perhaps you'll excuse me for a minute or two, I think my secretary wants a word with me." And I left them to talk.

When I came back into the room, it was Derek talking to Brenda, "....I know she's your sister, but we can't have her talking to the guests like she was last night. It'll cost us our reputation. She's got to start living her own life...."

Brenda smiled at me, "I'm sorry for what my sister did. I guess history is repeating itself in its way. And it was Susan that was so vehemently angry when it happened to her."

Now that got my interest, "Tell me."

Brenda sat back, "I don't think you ever knew our father, he'd died before you came onto the scene. He was a very straightforward sort of man. Men worked and earned the money, women kept house and looked after the men. Well Mummy died when she was only forty eight, I'd left home by then, but Susan was still at home. Daddy naturally thought that Susan's job was look after him, now that Mummy wasn't there to do it." 

Suddenly she looked worried, "Nothing sexual. Please don't think that. No, but it was her job to keep house and do the cooking. She could have boyfriends and go out on dates, but only after she's cooked him a meal and washed up afterwards. And she had to be in by ten thirty because he liked to lock up and go to bed around then. I think she only married Ralph to get away from Daddy." She frowned, "I think that's why Ralph doesn't like me very much. About two weeks after their engagement, I told him he was a silly fool. But they've made it last well over thirty years, so I guess there must have been something in it. But I still think it was more Ralph loving her than the other way around. I guess the imbalance has finally showed."

"And that's where Susan learnt that the older generation has a right to demand love and support from the younger generation, I guess." I concluded, but then added, "It's easily done, taking the wrong lessons from the past. I used to think that because I grew up without a father, it didn't matter too much to my sons if I wasn't there. I was wrong. And Susan is wrong."

Both of them nodded their heads, "But Susan hates her father for what he did, but she doesn't see the parallel, or certainly doesn't admit to it. She blames you for all of this. When she found out that we were coming here today, she was quite upset that we were being disloyal to her. We were going to talk to the enemy, the man who had wrecked her life. But we just had to find out what was going on."

"I know she hates my guts. Well, I guess my coming back to Bristol was the start of it all going wrong for her and Peter. By the way, I don't know how much Peter and Susan are still talking, but I'd be grateful if you don't tell Susan too much about Molly's divorce, or that Molly and myself are talking. It might just spark off some reaction by either Susan or Peter, and I don't want that. Let things just take their natural course. Please."

Derek immediately responded, "Not a problem We understand. It can't be easy for you or Molly, or Ralph come to that."

As they said goodbye, I wished them well. I'd met them a few times at family gatherings, years ago, but this had been the first time I'd sat down and really talked to them. I thought they were rather nice, but I didn't envy them their problem of having a bitter Susan on their hands.

That weekend, Molly and myself had another long discussion about Susan. She did say that Heather Washington was really helping her accept that her mother was out of her life. Apparently, Heather had some difficulty with this, her career was based on bringing people back together and not breaking them up. Molly did admit that she still felt bitter about Susan's betrayal, but it seemed that she was now reconciled to never wanting to see her mother again, and seemed quite philosophical about it. 

The next couple of weeks went by quickly. I think Molly and myself were really beginning to enjoy our relaxed routine. A pattern was emerging of still spending at least one night a week talking about some aspect or other of all that happened, and that wasn't always easy. But we also went out to dinner, or to see a film or to the theatre on other nights. 

It was on one of our serious discussion nights that Molly asked about the girls I'd known, especially Helene. It took me some time to tell her everything as well as I could. But, she really didn't like that I'd used prostitutes and brothels, that was somehow beyond acceptable behaviour to her. And Helene warranted a discussion over dinner all to herself, and that was very rough for Molly. Partly, I think it was because Helene and myself had come to no emotional end, except that I moved away, and thought it better for both Helene and myself that I left her in Holland. I couldn't say that I grew to not love her, or that she cheated on me, or a hundred and one endings that Molly would have preferred. I could only say that I had left her behind in every sense.

And then there was Myra! Molly really had a thing about Myra, and I could never quite work out why. My first clue was the monosyllabic replies to my chatting over dinner one evening, telling her about some of the things that happened at work. The day before I was meant to have had a late afternoon meeting with Myra to discuss Exeter. But I was running late, and the meeting was only meant to be a short discussion, so when I did get to Myra I apologised for my lateness by sharing a bottle of cold Chardonnay in the local wine bar, and we discussed Exeter there. It was a business meeting of two friends, but Molly obviously didn't like it.

And that brought us to mid-August. It was odd going to the airport, four of us in the car. They all took off first, heading for Majorca, but I was only one hour behind them, heading for Cannes.

The Group Strategy Conference was good. It was very high-powered. Effectively, it was the main board, plus some support staff from Head Office, and a stream of guys like me, making special presentations. But almost all of those other guys were in and out merchants, only there for a day or even a half day. There was only myself and one other guy, Patrick Redmond, who were there for the whole three days. Obviously, Patrick and myself were destined for great things, we were marked men. Patrick was a really nice guy, and Managing Director of one of our financial services companies in Canada, and we got on really well, which was interesting, as we were obviously rivals for some unnamed prize.

My session with the Board was particularly interesting. Not only did I give my report on the future for Franks, but I was allowed to discuss the growth of the health market, especially in Europe, and ITI's possible future. It was at that point that the meeting was joined by two consultants from Hedgerton & Partners, some exclusive corporate advice company from the USA. They had a lot of facts and advice about the health market. By the end of the session it was apparent that the plan was going to be to grow ITI's position in Europe by opportunity, buying companies that seemed appropriate and available. But the core strategy would be in the USA, where corporate takeovers would be actively made to happen to a pre-determined strategy. It became obvious that the centre of any future health division would be in the USA. But the fact that I was there for this discussion made it clear that, at the right time, I would be part of that strategy.

When I got back to Bristol on Monday, it was all a bit of an anticlimax. I was bubbling with excitement at having been part of the Strategy Meeting, but I didn't have anyone to bubble to. I missed Molly, and I guess it showed. 

By Wednesday, Carole had had enough, "Missing them then?"

I sighed, "I'm surprised at how much. I guess Molly and the boys and your soap opera have been the focus of my life for months now. And suddenly they're not there."

"Have you thought, we have a long weekend coming up, and they do still run flights to Majorca, and they even run them back again on Mondays, even bank holiday Mondays?"

"I can't just descend on them for three days. It'd knock their holiday routine completely out. I couldn't, could I?"

"I'll check flights." She said and was gone.

She was gone a long time, before she came back and said, "Do you know, there isn't one appointment in your diary for tomorrow or Friday and Tuesday that couldn't be cancelled or postponed? And, there's a flight to Majorca leaving at nine o'clock this evening with space on it."

"Bloody hell, Carole. How did you do that?"

"Easy, you just look up airline travel on the internet." She said with a silly smile.

"No. That you can clear my diary for this week and Tuesday. Are you sure? I can't imagine John Wheeler letting me off that sales trip on Tuesday afternoon."

Carole smiled, "I haven't worked here sixteen years without knowing where a few of the bodies are buried. Let's just say I called in a few favours."

"You'll have to tell me."

"I can't. That was the deal."

I smiled, that was logical I suppose. And then looked at her, "Do you think I can?"

She looked straight at me, "I know you can. But it's up to you whether you do or not." She paused, and leant forward over my desk, "You haven't had a day off since you got here. And not only have you had to learn a new job in a new company, but it's probably been the most turbulent period of your private life ever. Personally, I think six days R&R would do you the world of good."

I stared her in the face as I made up my mind, "OK. I'll phone her. And can you clear a bit more of my diary? I've got to go home to early. I've got to pack and get to the airport by seven-ish, if it's a nine o'clock flight."

Carole and myself seemed to get through a lot of work in the rest of Wednesday. Every meeting I held seemed to finish early, and I squeezed three extra meetings into one day. I accused her of telling everybody that they had to be quick, but she only smiled, and said that it was surprising what we could do if we tried. I left at four o'clock, promising myself that I must bring back a present for Carole, she deserved it.

I came through from customs at Palma airport at five minutes to midnight, and all three of them were there waiting to greet me. Ben ran forward towards me and I swept him up in my arms and I hugged him, "You're up very late."

"Mummy said we could all stay up and come and meet you."

"And are you having a nice holiday?"

"Yes. We've got a swimming pool and there's a big one, and a pizza shop."

By now I had got as far as Molly and Jamie. I put Ben down and kissed Molly, but Jamie just stood quietly at her side. "Hello, young man." I tweaked his hair, "Don't you say Hello to your Dad?"

"Hi, Dad." He was smiling, but there was a vibe that wasn't quite right. I looked at Molly who mouthed, "It's late and he's tired."

Jamie on the other hand, was bubbling. "Come on Daddy, you've got to see the car Mummy's got." He said as he took my hand and started to pull be towards the exit.

The car turned out to be a perfectly standard Peugeot Coupe Cabriolet, but when your seven years old and on holiday, I guess driving around in an open car is exciting, especially if it's after midnight. 

We got back to the villa, which was rather nice in a simple way. It was one of many in a large holiday complex, but it had it's own little swimming pool, as well as access to the big one at the centre of the village. And within ten minutes of getting there, we had the boys in bed. Both myself and Molly saw them to bed, and as we came out, we stood and hugged and kissed in the middle of the living room.

"What brought on your need to come out?" She asked.

"I missed you. I suddenly realised how much you and the boys are part of my life, and I missed you all. And Carole convinced me that I could do with a few days rest, so here I am."

Molly kissed me again, quite passionately, but then said, "There is a sort of a problem."

"What?"

"Have you forgotten that when you booked this place, it has two bedrooms?"

"So?"

"So the boys will know that we sleep together."

"We haven't slept together since you came back into my life. But we do have sex. Does it worry you that they'll realise if we're in the same bed all night?"

She thought about it, "I don't know. It's sort of a public statement, they'll think we're back together, and we aren't, are we?"

I smiled, "And that's what I don't know. I'm a long way from convinced that we can make it in the long term. But we are trying, and we've got all the time in the world." I paused and looked at her, she didn't look too upset at my rejection, so I continued, "But I don't see any harm in being honest with the boys as to where we are. Do you?"

"I want to sleep with you. I want to wake up next to you." She smiled, "But you can answer any awkward questions that come up."

So we went to bed, and we did make love. There was an urgency for both of us, but it wasn't the greatest ever, we were too tired. But it was nice that she didn't have to get up and dressed to go home, and we fell into a contented sleep. It was even better when we woke up in the morning and could resume where we'd left off the night before. 

Afterwards, we lay in bed and Molly asked, "Can we go shopping sometime today?"

"Sure. What for?"

She propped herself up, "Well, I didn't know you were coming, so I only brought ordinary cotton panties and bra's. And I've only got one pair of heeled sandals. And I know you like me to dress sexier than that, and I like to. It's important to me too." 

I smiled, "I do like it - a lot. I think if you asked me for one simple thing I'd change about our marriage, it would be that you wore sexier undies all the time. I know it was good practical sense to wear what you wore, but if I was feeling a little frisky on an average evening, and the boys were in bed. Well I could give you a kiss and a hug, but if my hands wandered under your skirt, what would I find? Run resist tights with those ghastly thick trunks at the top and a pair of supermarket cotton knickers from an economy pack of five. That's a bit of a passion killer, you know."

She looked slightly hurt, "I'm sorry. I didn't realise. OK, I'll try to do better in the future. That's why we must go shopping today."

"No, it's lovely and warm here. We can get through six days. How about no bra's in the evening, or even no knickers after the boys have gone to bed? And I'll take you shopping for some really nice undies when we get back to the UK, including lots of pairs of stockings."

She smiled, "OK. But, I feel awkward if I'm too obvious in front of the boys, it makes me feel uncomfortable. And when we go back, I won't wear thongs and strings all day at work, Sorry. I don't mind them in the evening, then they're special, but not on work days. And I want to be able to wear tights in winter. It can get too draughty for stockings on cold winter days."

I laughed, "Are we negotiating? Not that I'm not happy to. OK. But how about a few of those pairs of tights that don't need panties, they've got a sexy panty top and cotton gusset?" 

She lowered herself to suck my cock, just saying "We'll see."

"And that's an unfair negotiating tactic." I spluttered as her mouth closed around me.

At breakfast the boys made no mention of where I'd slept, it was just natural that their parents would sleep together. And I guess that helped us all relax into the holiday, and I found that once I started to relax I couldn't stop. By Friday afternoon, you only had to show me a sunbed in the shade and I'd be fast asleep. I woke up once with Ben standing quite near me, but with Molly pulling him away saying "Leave Daddy alone, he's very tired and needs to sleep." I guess Carole was right, I did need a break.

There were a couple of instances when history raised its ugly head. Once I spent the best part of an hour in the pool with the two boys, having a great time. When I eventually rejoined Molly on the sunbeds, I noticed she was watching us and close to tears. 

"What's the matter, you look sad." I asked.

"Just the sadness of what I did to our family. It hurts so much." She answered in a very quiet voice.

We both watched the boys for a while as they played in the pool. Then I asked, "What's wrong with Jamie? I get a feeling that something isn't quite right, especially with me it seems."

Molly smiled grimly, "I wish I knew. He keeps it all to himself. I think Ben's OK, he's a more open character, and he can't remember the time before we split. Life is just life as far as Ben is concerned, and anyway he can talk. But Jamie is a closed book. I know he feels things, sees things, thinks things, but I don't know what."

"I'll try having a word with him, if I get a chance." I said.

And it was after breakfast on the next day that I got my chance. Jamie had taken his book and was lying by himself on a sunbed whilst myself and Molly cleared the breakfast things and Ben was watching a cartoon in Spanish on the television. 

I pointed Jamie out to Molly, and said, "Here's my chance." And I went out and sat down on the next sunbed.

"You remind me of your Uncle Brian. He always had his head buried in a book. That's how I always think of him when we were boys."

Jamie looked up at me, "Is it? I know I've got an Uncle Brian, but I don't know him." He spoke totally neutrally.

"No. I guess you wouldn't have seen a lot of my side of your family for the last few years." I paused, "The last few years must have been rough for you and Ben. I'm sorry."

"It's been OK." His voice remained unengaged.

"Tell me, have you been happy? Was Mummy happy with Peter?"

"They laughed a lot, so I guess so. Peter's very good at funny voices. And he always wanted to make Mummy happy. But I think she missed you, Daddy. You shouldn't have left us."

I sighed, "I thought it was the best thing I could do. You know that Mummy had an affair with Peter don't you, when she was married to me? Well, that hurt me a lot. And I thought she loved him more than me, so I thought the best thing I could do for all of you was just to go away."

"But she didn't love him." He protested.

"No. I know that now. And she didn't have a very big affair with him either. But I didn't know that then. And I was very hurt and angry."

"Are you still?"

"Hurt? Yes, I guess I still am. But I'm not angry anymore."

"Then why don't you marry her again? She loves you, I know she does. And she's said she's sorry, hasn't she?"

"It takes a long time to put these things right. And we've got lot's of time. She's still married to Peter until she can finalise her divorce."

I could see in his eyes, he wasn't totally convinced. So I tried again, "You don't know it yet, Jamie, but you will. Sex and love are one of the most important emotions we all feel. There are times when you're a young man when you can hardly think about anything else. Every girl you see makes you wonder. Every few minutes you think about sex in some way or other...."

Jamie half smiled, "I think I know that from some of the books I've read."

Now I smiled, "Well, maybe you shouldn't be reading those sorts of books yet." And Jamie smiled at me conspiratorially, and for a moment father and son bonded. 

I paused and then continued, "Now sex is a wonderful thing, or it can be. It feels great, but far more important is that it is emotionally so satisfying, especially if you fall in love with someone and you commit your whole life to them. Like your Mother and I committed to each other when we got married. And I was heartbroken when she seemed to commit to Peter, even if it was only a mistake one afternoon." 

I paused and looked at him. I think I was beginning to get through, he had sat up on the edge of the sunbed, facing me and listening.




Back to Bristol Ch. 18



I continued, "Imagine how you would feel if one afternoon you were going to stay late at school for cricket practice say. So Mummy collects Ben and says she'll take him home for his tea, and then she'll come back and collect you at the end of your cricket. But, she doesn't come back. For a couple of hours she leaves you standing at the school gate, feeling very lonely and deserted. Everyone else has gone home, leaving you all by yourself. When she does come, she doesn't properly apologise, she just explains that she and Ben had started a game of Monopoly and she forgot all about you because finishing the game with Ben was very important. How would you feel? That maybe she loves Ben more than you? That she forgets about you easily? That you're not very important to her? How will you feel at the next cricket practice? You'd be worried that she's going to forget you again. You can't quite trust her like you always used to do. Maybe, you'll take a lift with some other cricketer's mother, it would be safer. It would take you a long time to forget all about being left hanging around at the school gate for a couple of hours, wouldn't it? It'd be a long time before you really trusted her again, wouldn't it?"

"She wouldn't do that. She loves me and Ben the same, I know she does. And anyway, we're told to go and sit on the seats near the Head Teacher's office if something like that happens."

"Yes, don't worry, it wouldn't actually happen, and Yes, Mummy does love both you and Ben the same. I do as well. But maybe that day she just made a simple mistake. Well, it would seem far worse to you on the receiving end. Well, multiply those feelings a hundredfold, and that's a bit like I felt. But we have lots of time, there is no rush. And both Mummy and I love you and Ben a lot, and whatever Mummy and I do, we will always be a family. Promise."

He was quiet, thinking. Which was probably the best I could do. 

"Can you give me some more time, please Jamie? More time for me to learn to love and trust her again."

He smiled. At last! I thought.

"Sure. Just get to the right answer, Dad."

"I'll do my best, son." I said and went indoors.

I was found Molly in the little kitchen, trying to keep Ben attention so that he wouldn't come out to find his brother and father. "It's alright, Ben, you can go for your swim now." 

Molly looked at me, and I said, "You're right, he watches and he thinks. He knows what's going on. But I talked honestly, and said it would take time to get to wherever we are going. I think he appreciated that I talked to him. I guess we'll see if he cheers up or not."

Molly gave me a hug, "Well done, and thank you."

Everyone was happier after that, I guess we had crossed some sort of bridge. Jamie was definitely happier with me. And as I sat and watched my family at dinner one evening, I couldn't help but look at Molly. And I knew I also had to talk to her before this holiday was over, or at least to say something that I need to say to her.

On the Monday night, which was really my last night with them all, I arranged a babysitter through the central office of the holiday village, so that I could take Molly out to dinner. She came out of the bathroom as I was laying on the bed, reading. She looked gorgeous in a simple dress with spaghetti straps over the shoulders, and it fell to just above the knee. It was obvious, at least to me, that she wasn't wearing a bra, her breasts softly jiggled under the material.

I stood up, "You look good. But...."

"But what?" She looked concerned.

"But, my guess is that you're wearing panties, and you shouldn't be." I said with a smile.

She looked very hesitant. To the best of my knowledge, she had never been out without knickers, certainly not with me, and I assumed that she had never done it for Peter. 

"I'll make it worth your while. I'll let you into a secret."

She looked at me, very hesitantly. But then her hands went under her skirt, and she sort of shimmied out of her panties and bent over to take them off her high heeled sandals. She held them up and walked towards me, "Well?"

I looked at her, into her eyes as she approached, "I love you, Molly. I love you." I said.

She fell into my arms, and we kissed, "I'll never wear panties again." She said.

"I might hold you to that."

"I was speaking figuratively." She laughed, but then she leant back to look at me, very questioningly. I knew what she was asking, but before I said anything, she asked, "Am I allowed to say that I love you, now?"

"I love to hear it." I kissed her forehead, and then added, "I guess we are now at the end of the beginning. Now we really can find out if we can put it back together. Now you know that I want to."

We had a good evening, and memorable sex. And I was really sad to leave them all the next day. 

On my first day back, Carole brought me my first cup of coffee of the day, and a sheaf of notes that looked as if I was going to be busy all morning just reading them.

"OK. You were right. I did need a break. And it was wonderful."

"So? Any news?" She asked.

"Not really, except that I told her I loved her, which was a big line to cross. So, as I said to Molly, we are now really trying to find out if we can make it work."

"Well, if you find out how to make a marriage work all the time, let me know."

"Problems?"

"Nothing we won't get through. Rick is just getting more and more fed up with his job. And I'm spending a lot of my time planning and cooking for this 70th wedding anniversary that I told you about. And Rick would like a little more of my time."

"Maybe you need a holiday." I suggested.

"I would if I thought Rick would actually take one. He moans all the time about his job, but just works harder and harder."

"Well, take one when you can. I can cope with a temp for a week or two."

"Thanks. And best of luck with Molly. Let me know if there's anything I can do to help."

I smiled, and Carole was heading out of my office when I said, "Just keep bringing me more coffee and less notes. Oh, and can you ask Myra to come and see me." 

"She's out for the rest of the week. She'll be here when you get back from Hawaii."

"Oh." Was all I could say. I guessed that Head Office had her chasing around on something, after all she was H.O. staff. And anyway, chasing up on the planning for the new Abbey laboratories could wait until after I came back from Hawaii, I wasn't that anxious to sit in a meeting with Peter Davies on some redevelopment committee, it was just that I felt I could face him with confidence.

Molly and the boys were back on Friday, and I went around to Ralph's in the evening to see them all. I asked Molly what she would like to do on the Saturday, and she said she would like to come around to my flat and cook me a meal, and sit and talk. 

So that's what we did. She arrived saying that she'd warned Ralph that she might not be home that night, and apparently he wasn't in the least bit worried by that. So, it sounded as if it was going to be a very promising evening. Molly cooked, and it was superb, so I complimented her. In fact I cautiously mentioned that I thought she was now a better cook than I remembered. That became a self-inflicted wound when she told me that Peter was an excellent cook and had taught her so much. I could have done without that.

So we changed subject. Now Molly had a fascination with my sex life in my wilderness years, and she asked about my memorable sexual experiences. What had I learnt? What did I want to repeat? What wouldn't I want to ever do again? The questions were reasonable, and the discussion was good. I told her about the girl I'd teamed up with for a period of three weeks consultancy in Prague. She had been very anal. I was never quite sure whether she always wanted anal sex because she enjoyed it, or whether it was because she was convinced that it pleased the man. But either way, I got a lot of anal sex for those few weeks.

And that led onto a discussion of anal sex, something that Molly and myself had not yet done since we got back together. Molly smiled when I hinted, and said I had to remember that she hadn't done it for years, and when the time was right, I would have to be very gentle. That led on to talking about a girl I found in Mexico, who would actually anally fuck herself on my cock. I only had to put my cock head on her anus, and she pushed back and did all the work. That was a great sensation. I could actually remain quite still, which I could do in the early minutes, and she'd work up her own rhythm of fucking herself on me. I think that rather worried Molly, she couldn't quite see herself being able to do that, so she guided the conversation on to oral sex. And that's where it really all fell apart.

I said I'd once eaten out a totally bald pussy, and I loved it, and really wanted to do it again. Now I'd never realised, but Molly does not want a bald pussy. She sees it as a step too far for some reason. And she really wasn't happy that I'd hoped that she would let it happen. But then it got worse. She wanted to know who this girl was; she must have been some terrible fetish slut. And, as much as I could I tried to avoid answering that, eventually I had to admit that it was Myra. There was a fairly stony silence after that for a while. 

I tried explaining that Myra was a nice girl, that she had her reasons to shave, that she was a good colleague, that she had a new boyfriend. All to no avail. Eventually, I tried just hugging, cuddling, kissing gently, and suggesting that we could just go to bed. She was obviously hesitant, so I said, "Are you really this upset about a girl who was only a short affair and before we got back together?"

"It's just that you work with her. You see her everyday." She said, but I felt a softening in her voice.

And then I opened my big mouth, "Just like you and Peter worked together at the Hospital."

She went home after that! And I lay in bed half the night staring at the ceiling in the dark.

In fairness, she came back before breakfast on Sunday morning. And we both said we were sorry. And we made up in the traditional manner. I guess it was another bridge crossed, but it wasn't one I don't want to cross again.

I travelled to Hawaii with both Piers McBaine and Stephen Hobbs, and we all chatted happily, but it was still a long, long flight and I'd rather have been in Bristol. But we got there.

Once I'd checked in to the conference hotel and got to my suite, I logged on and checked my email. There was one from Carole to say that she'd decided, in my absence, to take three days off, but that she would be back on Thursday, in plenty of time to get ready to brief me on the state of play for my return. I sent an OK reply to Carole, and a message to Molly just to say that I'd arrived.

My conference started the next morning with a breakfast for all speakers. And as I came into the breakfast room who do a see but Myra. 

"Hello. I was about to say: what are you doing here? But I guess Head Office brought you for a reason. It would have been nice of them to tell me."

She smiled, "Yes. Group Accounts want me to do a seminar on group accounting policies. They're convinced that some of the rules they lay down are not always observed as well as they might be. You know, using agreed exchange rates, and codings, all the basics. So I've got to do the same seminar in one of the break out sessions every afternoon for five days. And I'm sorry, but I know someone did try phoning you to tell you, I think you were having a few days holiday, and probably the message never caught up with you."

"Well, that's not your fault. I will save it until I need a bullet against London. What are you doing for the rest of the time? Do the Head Office people have their own programme?"

"Oh No. I just sit at the back of the hall and listen, like everyone else. I'm looking forward to your bit on Wednesday."

"You won't like it. You've heard all the jokes before. And there's no real news in it. Just forward thinking on what a Health Division might look like."

She smiled, "With a young, forward thinking Divisional Director?"

Now I smiled, "The thought never crossed my mind." I paused to look her in the eyes, "Let's find time this week to catch up with each other. We haven't really had a chance to really talk about the important things since you gave me your homily on people staying essentially the same. You were right about that by the way."

She smiled, "Women generally are. And I'd like to catch up."

After that Piers, Stephen and myself seemed to go around like a threesome. Of course I knew a lot more people than they did, and I could introduce them to a lot of ITI stalwarts. I didn't see much of Myra, and I thought I would have to go and seek her out at some stage.

I was in the bar with the pair of them on the Wednesday evening, bathing in the glory of my presentation having gone down superbly well. Two of the main board directors had come up to both congratulate me, and to tell me that they've insisted that the video of my presentation is sent out to all companies in their divisions. I was on a roll! 

Stephen however wasn't. "Please, Chris, don't ever bring me on one of these things ever again. I'm an engineer. I like solving engineering problems, not sitting in hall whilst some guy I don't know tells me all about his exciting plans to conquer the world with his new frozen yoghurt product. Just leave me in Exeter where I'm happy. Please."

We were onto about our third 'Cocktail of the Day' by that time, and a degree of honesty had crept into our conversation. What struck me was that he was dashing my high hopes for Stephen's future. I couldn't promote him to be a director of Bristol's production line, with the necessity for any of Frank's director to have to play the ITI corporate game. 

On the other hand, Piers was in his element. He just loved learning about the ITI Group, and seemed happy introducing himself to all sorts of people. What I also noticed and admired was that he had a natural presence. People noticed him and treated him with respect, without even knowing who he was. 

I was just draining that third cocktail, and thinking these thoughts, when Myra came up. All three of us greeted her warmly, and I invited her to join us for dinner. 

As we sat in the dining room, I noticed that quite a few guys came up to chat, on the excuse of congratulating me on my presentation. But then, whilst looking directly at Myra, they would ask me if they might join us in the bar later. Myra would immediately interrupt to say that she was going to break up the party soon anyway, and with heavy emphasis, because she had to go and send a long email of news to her boyfriend in the UK. They seemed to wander off after that.

We didn't actually break up until a group of guys came around saying they'd heard of a great bar that they fancied visiting. The way they said it, and that they seemed awkward in front of Myra when saying it, told me and everyone else at the table that it was a strip joint at the very least. Stephen looked at me as if asking permission as he said he fancied going along.

So we were now just Myra, Piers and myself. We sat on a terrace and gently sipped our drinks and chatted. I then said I fancied going for a walk along the shoreline. Myra was up for it, but Piers said he fancied the idea of going to bed more. So myself and Myra went for a stroll.

For a while we walked in comfortable silence. But then I said, "This walk isn't happening."

"Why not?" she asked.

"Because Molly has a bit of a bee in her bonnet about you. I don't think she'd appreciate that I'm strolling along a moonlit beach with you at ten o'clock at night."

"She should meet up with Will. I'd already decided that this wasn't happening as far as he was concerned."

"Has he got a been in his bonnet about me? What have I done?"

I felt the smile in her voice as she answered, "Well, in crude terms, you did me. And you're my boss, so it's obvious that you took an unfair advantage of me. What did I do that upset Molly, beyond telling her that I wasn't going to let you go? Mind you, that could have been upsetting."

"Well, I guess that was the start of it. She sort of had her hopes that night which you rather crushed, without knowing of course. Now I think she's just straightforwardly jealous, only....." I paused, I wasn't sure how to explain with delicacy. So I changed the subject, "I didn't take advantage, did I?"

"No. I've tried to explain to Will that I wouldn't be with him if it wasn't our little affair that put me back on the right road, so to speak."

I laughed, "I agree. He should thank me that I've had great sex with his girlfriend. He's being very ungrateful. What is wrong with the man? It's as if he was falling in love with you or something."

There was a long pause before Myra said, "Oh! I hope he is."

"Is that the voice of a girl who is in love."

She laughed, "I think it might be. I'm missing him so much this week. And yet we don't see each other mid-week normally anyway. We chat on the telephone, but it's just the feeling that he's just down the road when I'm in Bath and he's in Exeter. I don't like being thousands of miles away and in another time zone."

"Good. It's a nice feeling really, isn't it?"

"I take it you know what it feels like?" She asked.

"Yes, I think I do. No, in fact I know I do." I shrugged, "But I don't know if we can make it. But we're both trying."

"So? What is it about me that upsets her?"

"Officially? That we work together. Unofficially is a little more personal. Are you sure you want to know?"

"I think I can take it."

"OK. We were in a conversation about memorable sex, and I said I'd once eaten out a completely shaven pussy, and that I loved it and wanted to do it again with her some time, when the time was right. And Molly wanted to know where I'd come across such a flagrant abuse of female adulthood. And after a lot of wheedling by her, and avoidance by me, I admitted it was you."

Myra burst out laughing, with sideways looks at me to check that I meant it, "Tell her that you can't repeat it with me, baldness wasn't Will's thing. So it's up to her now."

Now I laughed, "Any idea how I tell her that we strolled along this beach by moonlight, late at night, discussing your pussy hair?"

"Knowing how to handle these difficult situations is what makes you managing director, and the up and coming star of ITI."

"Gee, thanks!"

We strolled along in silence for a while, and were almost back to our hotel when I suggested, "Maybe we should face up to the problem. How about the four of us go out to dinner one evening? Nothing formal or special, a low key bistro type dinner."

"OK. But it would have to be on a Friday evening when Will is coming my way for the weekend. I go down to Exeter quite a lot, it's rarer for him to come up to Bath."

"Well, let me know when." I said as we entered the hotel lobby and were just passing the bar, "Fancy a nightcap?"

"No thanks. I will actually go and send a newsy email to my boyfriend." She answered and headed for the elevators.

It was the following morning, Thursday morning, that Piers upset me at breakfast. 

"I should have taken a walk with you last night. I went to bed, but for some reason I didn't sleep well. So, when the time zones were right, I phoned the Abbey, just to catch up on any news."

"And was there any?"

"Not a lot. I spoke to Peter. He sounded quite cheerful, and I was bold enough to remark that he was, that he had reconciled himself to the divorce and sounded as if he was in a very positive frame of mind."

"Good." Was all I said.

But Piers looked at me, and I knew I wasn't going to like what was coming, "He said: he wasn't divorced yet, and he had hopes he never would be."



Back to Bristol Ch. 19



After Piers had said that I could expect problems from Peter Fucking Davies, I just excused myself from breakfast and went up to my suite and phoned Molly.

Before she really had a chance to answer I said, "Hi. It's me. Have you heard anything from Peter?"

She obviously was not expecting to hear my voice, "Chris! What time is it in Hawaii? No, I haven't heard anything from Peter. Why would I?"

"Sorry. It's just gone seven in the morning here, and Piers has just told me that he spoke to Peter who apparently said that he doesn't expect to be divorced. I can only assume he has some legal trick up his sleeve. I can't think what else he could be planning."

The was a long silence from the other end, then "I don't think there is anything that he could do. He's signed all the papers, the actual Court procedure is really just rubber stamping, and that's in under a week. I guess I should speak to my solicitor, just to be sure. But I can't do that until tomorrow, she'll have left the office by now."

Now I was silent for a while, "Well, the only other thing I can think of is that he intends to ask you to a give him a reprieve."

"To do that he'd have to come and see me, and he hasn't, thank goodness. The only contact that either Ralph or myself have had in the last few days is that Ralph had to have a face to face with Susan at the solicitors. But he didn't mention Peter at all. It was pretty rough going, I don't think she can understand what's happened to her, and she's fighting all the way to stop it happening, if that makes sense. But, I wouldn't have thought they talked about Peter."

"I suppose the other explanation is that he's playing silly mind games. He would guess that saying something like that to Piers would get back to me."

"That's not his style, but who knows? The quicker we get to next Wednesday and this is behind us the better."

I paused for a second or two, there seemed nothing else to say about Peter Fucking Davies, so I asked, "Well, how are you?" and our conversation drifted into a general chatty update.

After we'd said our goodbyes, and I'd put the phone down, I considered what I'd do. Molly's attitude and words had calmed any inner fears I had about her, and I felt confident about Peter again. I thought that maybe I should face him, give him a show of confidence, and that I wasn't going to buckle under his silly mind games. So I emailed Carole and asked her to arrange a planning meeting for the new Laboratories for the next Tuesday, the day before the divorce was in Court. And then I went down to rejoin the Conference.

At the coffee break, Piers asked, "And how is Molly?"

I smiled, "Very well. And she hasn't seen anything of Peter. So whatever he's playing at, he doesn't seem to have done anything yet. And by the way, I've got Carole arranging a meeting on the design of the new Laboratories for next Tuesday. I expect you'll get an email about it." I stopped stirring my coffee and looked straight into his eyes, "And Yes, you will be able to make it."

He smiled, "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

"Wouldn't miss what?" Myra had just come up.

"Perfect timing. Carole is arranging a meeting for the new Laboratories on Tuesday. I hope you can make it." I answered.

Myra looked at me and then at Piers, and she understood the implication, "I'll be there. It sounds like fun."

I phoned Molly again on Friday morning to check that Peter had caused no problem. But he hadn't, and Molly had spoken to her solicitor, who had then checked with Peter's solicitor, and there was nothing wrong with the divorce case, and it was going ahead without a hitch. So, Molly and myself decided that Peter was just having a little fun at our expense.

On the Friday I was summoned to a meeting with The Old Man. I wasn't quite sure what he wanted to talk about, he seemed to be just encouraging me to talk, which probably had a purpose. So, I talked about restructuring the board of Franks. How I would be working on revitalising the production and client service side of the business, and that I wanted to bring Piers McBaine onto the board. He liked that bit, he'd met and been impressed by Piers, and just gave the idea his blessing. Otherwise, he just advised me to bring some new blood into the company at a senior level, even as a Number 2 to me. He did ask after Stephen Hobbs, who he had also met, but I gave Stephen the thumbs down as a candidate for the board. I said I wanted to leave him as head of the Exeter operation, where he was happy and good, he wasn't corporate material for higher office.

When we got back to Heathrow, bleary eyed off the red-eye, there was Molly waiting to meet me. She was standing chatting to Jeanette who was waiting for Piers. I knew the Piers and Jeanette were off to see Fraser and their daughter, but I was surprised to see Molly.

"Hi." I said as I hugged and kissed her, "This is a surprise."

"I wanted to meet you. I missed you." She answered with another kiss.

"Do we now have two cars here?"

"No. I came up on the train to Reading, and took the link bus. So it's just one car."

Once we'd collected my car from the long-stay car park, and that seemed to take half a lifetime, she said, "I haven't seen anything or heard anything from Peter." And I understood why she had come to meet me, the stress of what he might do was getting too much for her. So I told her that I'd arranged to face him in a meeting on Tuesday, to see if he was giving any clues as to what he planned.

We continued to hear nothing from Peter up to four o'clock on Tuesday when we gathered in the large meeting room at Marston Abbey for the planning meeting. I was talking to Carole, who I'd taken along to keep minutes, when he came in talking to Sharon Booth. He paused for a second and our eyes met, but neither of us said anything, and we only broke the moment when Carole nudged my arm to ask about getting teas and coffees.

The meeting itself went very well. Piers and his team had huge demands for the most luxurious laboratories in the world, but once I'd challenged that and guided the thinking to more realistic expectations, it was a very productive session. When it finished and was disbanding, with little groups talking amongst themselves, I noticed Peter had his eyes on me.

"Mr Davies. Are you waiting for me?"

"I think you can guess what about."

"Molly. What about her?"

"Is she well? I worry about her." And in fairness, he really did look concerned.

"Well you needn't. And Yes, she's very well. She's had a holiday for a couple of weeks in Majorca and she came back very fit and tanned."

He paused before he pressed on with what I suspect was a more important question to him, "You know what happens tomorrow. What are you going to do after that?" 

"I guess we'll go on seeing each other and talking. We're really good friends now. But, who knows what the future holds."

"No." He answered thoughtfully, as if he really was considering my wise philosophical statement. And then, after a lengthy pause, he said "From tomorrow she'll have her freedom. It is the start of the rest of her life. And she deserves happiness and security."

Was this code? Was this asking me, telling me, to marry her? Was he, in some way, handing her over to me? 

I looked straight into his eyes, "At last, something we can agree about. She needs to get the past into proportion, to move on to her own future and something better. And as you say, tomorrow is the start of that. Although I suppose it doesn't really start until the decree absolute."

"Yes. As you say, those last few weeks will give her a chance to look both back and forwards, from a position of having her freedom."

And like last time, when I thought he was going to face up to his new life, which had been a totally false impression, he held out his hand. And like last time, I shook it.

After he'd left, I headed out, towards my car, when Piers called to me as I passed the open door to his office. 

I went in and stood in front of his desk, "I thought that went well, once I'd convinced you lot that we weren't designing the Ritz of research laboratories."

"You can't blame us for trying. So, what did Peter want? I saw him hovering, waiting for you, I assume."

I shrugged, "I'm not sure. Sometimes I think he speaks in codes. But he didn't say he had any legal jiggery pokery up his sleeve for tomorrow. But I guess we'll know that for sure by this time tomorrow. Is he taking the day off?"

"Not as far as I know. And I should know. Is Molly going to the Court?" 

"No. She decided against it. As far as she's concerned it is just a necessary bureaucratic process."

"Well, give her both mine and Jeanette's love." He smiled, and our eyes met for a moment.

"Thanks, I will." And I went to find Carole waiting by my car.

I don't think we were out of the drive of Marston Abbey before Carole said, "That was a short instalment."

"Yes, it was, wasn't it." I answered, as neutrally as possible, but only because I was teasing her. After that we chatted about Peter Fucking Davies, and what his options were come the morrow. But, we couldn't think of any that were particular worrying or dramatic.

Molly came over to my flat that night. She was uptight and nervous, but trying not to let it show. I don't know whether she was trying to protect me from how stressed she was as she came to this final point of losing Peter from her life, but I decided to face up to it. "Why don't you tell me about your happiest memory of your marriage? You said it wasn't so bad a relationship. If you start remembering the good bits it might help."

She smiled weakly and shrugged, "I don't know what the best bit was, not with Peter. There were happy moments, but they were usually provided by Jamie or Ben. We had good holidays with them, but Peter wasn't important, he was just there, and I got on with him." She looked at me and smiled a bit more warmly, "But you're right, I should think of the good bits. I've got into the habit of just thinking it was a dreadful vale of regret, without you, without our family together. And I'm glad Peter seems to have taken it better now, once you told him a few facts of life. He hasn't made me hate him. Thank you." And she kissed me.

It was about four o'clock on the Wednesday that Molly phoned me to tell me that she'd heard from her solicitor to say that the decree nisi and had granted, with no complications raised by Peter. We both breathed a sigh of relief, and I suggested that I take her out to dinner.

When we met she looked slightly worried. "What's the matter?" I asked.

She paused and looked at me, into my eyes, "I better tell you, although I don't know what it means. I got a text message Peter. That this was the worst day of his life, but he hoped we could both move forward now."

I thought about that, "He's a master of the ambiguous comment, isn't he?"

"I chose to take it that it was to move forward separately not together." And she smiled weakly.

I smiled, "Let's give him the benefit of the doubt unless we're proved wrong."

Afterwards we went out to a nice, but nothing special, restaurant. It was when we were seated at the table that she carefully took off her wedding ring. "I insisted on wearing your ring right up until after the Decree Absolute was granted, but I don't want to wear this anymore." And she dropped it into her little handbag. After dinner we went back to my place and made love, and it was different somehow, it was less intense but more enjoyable.

But, at three o'clock the next day, Thursday, Molly phoned me and I answered it cheerfully, "This is becoming a habit. You phoning me at work."

But she hardly uttered the first syllable for me to know that something was wrong, "I've just received a huge bunch of flowers from Peter, with a card saying I Love You." 

Now that worried me as much as it did her, but I thought it best to calm her fears, "It's probably nothing more than a romantic final gesture."

"Then he'd say 'Thank you for some wonderful memories' or something. He wouldn't pledge love in the present tense."

"Just a bad choice of words. Look, a bunch of flowers isn't going to hurt you. Put them in a vase, and ignore it. If he tries anything else, then let me know."

And she did, before breakfast on Friday morning, "He's hand delivered a letter again. It was waiting on the doormat this morning."

"What does it say?"

"That now he has given me my freedom, I'm free to remember how good our marriage was, and to come back to him. That he wants to talk, and that we've only got until the Decree Absolute to save a wonderful marriage." She paused, probably waiting for my reaction, but then she added, "Oh, and he loves me, of course."

I paused, thinking I'd like to suggest that she tells him to fuck off, but that would probably be a tad insensitive on my part, "How do you feel?"

"Sad for him, I'd hoped that he had got his life together. Angry that he's trying this, after all these months. And a bit nonplussed. I don't want to hurt him more, but really I just want him to go away."

I very nearly offered to phone him up myself and tell him to fuck off, but I didn't. This was a problem for Molly, not me. "Why not send him a short note to thank him for the flowers, and to say that there is no point in talking? If you write it some time today, you could put it through his door before he gets home from work tonight. He still lives in your old house?"

"Yes. It's under offer, but not sold yet. Actually, that's not a bad idea. To reply to a letter with a letter. I'll think about that."

"And remember, we're going to see that film tonight. Don't let him interfere with us."

"No. I'll be at your place by the time you get in from work." She paused, and I was just about to say goodbye, when she added, "Oh, and by the way, I'll warn you now, Ben wants to go out on your bikes tomorrow."

"Tell him that's OK by me. I rather like the exercise."

There was a pause before Molly answered in a very gentle voice, "Chris, I'm sorry that Peter is somehow back. I do love you, and thank you for being patient about him."

"Hey, if we have anything surely it's a friendship to sort out problems. And I love you."

We left it there, and I finished my breakfast and went into work. I guess I looked troubled because Carole asked what was worrying me.

"What, or who do you think? Peter seems to have got it into his head that by letting Molly win her decree nisi, somehow she will be free of being obliged to be married to him, but will realise what she is losing.. Or something like that. Anyway, so far it's flowers and love letters."

"As I have been known to say before, shit happens."

"It certainly does." I said and sipped my coffee.

The film in the evening was very good, and it certainly took my mind off any personal problems. I did ask Molly whether she had written to Peter, and she told me that she'd bought a blank greetings card and written inside it, just as I suggested, to say thanks for the flowers but there was no point in meeting, the relationship was over. She added, when I asked, that she chose to use a greeting card as it seemed less personal than a handwritten note.

After the film we went for pasta and a glass of wine, and then headed back to my place for the night. As I drove along I fished out my phone, just to turn it on as we'd turned them off for the film.

"Good idea." Said Molly as she got out her own phone. "I've got a message. Oh, it's from Peter."

For a couple of minutes she sat with the phone pressed to her ear, listening. Then she closed up the phone and put it away. I waited.

"It sounds like he has had a drink or two, and he sounded close to tears. He's desperate to see me. He wants to talk."

"Ignore it. It really is the best way to get the message across." I said. But as I glanced round, I could see that she really was unhappy.

We made love that night, but I don't think she was really with me. She was just acquiescing to my needs. And on the Saturday morning she seemed nervous. Sometimes she was talking as if she was going to stay with me all day, at other times she was saying she must get back to Ralph's house. I guessed, she wanted to be with me, for the sake of support and security, but needed to get back to Jamie and Ben, and maybe to see if Peter had left any more messages.

We were in the kitchen, just talking about the day ahead, with me saying that we'd do something as a family, and Ben would have to forego his cycling, when her phone started ringing from her handbag.

She got it out, and looked at it, and her face went white. "Yes?" she answered nervously.

After that I heard one half of an argument. I thought Molly was pretty adamant, I would have thought Peter would have got the message. But he didn't seem to. Eventually, it struck me that I shouldn't be listening to this, it was an argument between a man and wife; or assumed they were that until the divorce was finalised. So I left the room.

Five minutes later Molly came to find me. I held her in my arms, she looked exhausted.

"Why did you walk out?"

"I felt I was eavesdropping on a private conversation."

"You were, but I don't have secrets from you. Please, Chris, I know this hurts you, Peter interfering like this, but I don't want to hurt him anymore than I have to, I'm sorry."

"I just want him out of our lives, out of your life, he doesn't belong in it." I sighed, and gave her a hug, "What did he say?"

"That he was sorry that he phoned last night. Apparently he felt terribly lonely. I told him I was sorry about that, but there was nothing I could do. Then he said he wanted to meet me, to talk about what we had, there was a lot of tear jerking emotion. He was really trying to pull my heart strings."

"Did he?"

"A bit. There's a little boy in Peter, and now there's a hurt little boy. And I feel that it was me that hurt him."

"But you're not going to see him, are you?"

"That's what the argument was really about. I kept saying No, there was no point. And he kept throwing up every reason he could think of as to why we should. He's hurting, Chris. I know I should never have married him, but he tried to be a good husband for four years, and now he's hurt."

That made me a little bit angry, "He's hurt because of the consequences of his own immoral action. If hadn't tried to chat up a married woman none of this would ever have happened. If you don't want to get burnt then don't play with fire. He played with fire, he played with his own emotions. He didn't know he was doing it at the time, but he was. And now he's burnt and it hurts."

She looked at me for a long time before she said, "He came up with one aspect that I haven't thought about. According to him, he is wracked with guilt that he is partly responsible for Ralph divorcing Susan. That was the only possible reason to meet that I heard. He wants to see if there is a way he can put that right."

"Do you believe him?"

"I'm not sure, I don't think he was particularly fond of Susan, I think he just happily worked with her for a common purpose. When we were actually married he didn't show any great concern for either Susan or Ralph. But if I met him, I could find out a little more of what he did on Susan's instructions, or what she did on his. Maybe I could understand a little more of how they manipulated me."

I thought about that. It struck me that there was a valid argument in there somewhere, "OK." I suggested, "Why not say to him that we can all meet, sometime after the divorce is complete? The extra time and finality of that would allow a proper discussion on what actually happened back then. And there would still be time to save Ralph and Susan's marriage, if that was appropriate. But that would call his bluff."

She looked at me and smiled, "That is a good idea. I'll phone him back in a minute. I'll say that I'm not willing to do anything about our divorce, that must go through. But afterwards we could meet and talk about all that happened with proper retrospection. And if that shows that Ralph has a wrong understanding, then he and Susan would have reason to reconcile." She paused, before she added, "But I don't think it will make any difference. I think Ralph has other reasons. I'm coming to the conclusion that he's never been that happy, and this affair is only the final straw."




Back to Bristol Ch. 19



I nodded, "I think that too. You know what Brenda and Derek said, that Susan never really loved him. I guess that's all caught up with him and her now. In some ways, and despite the strain of the divorce, he actually seems happier now than before. Anyway, why don't you give Peter a call, and tell him what's going to happen. Do it now, get it over with."

And she did, holding my hand the whole time. He obviously didn't like it, and didn't take her up on the idea of meeting after the divorce was final. As far as he was concerned, everything was terribly urgent. But Molly held firm and even just spoke over him to close the call when he started just repeating himself.

At the end, I congratulated her, "Well done." And gave her a kiss.

We did spend all that Saturday together, and on the Sunday I went over to Ralph's house and we all went out to lunch. We used Ralph's car for the five of us, and when we got back to the house, Peter was sitting in his BMW parked on the other side of the road. As we pulled up, Peter got out of his car, but then as I got out of Ralph's, he got back into his. I told Ralph to take everyone in, and I started walking towards Peter. I heard him start the engine, but he also lowered his window, and turned and looked at me.

As soon as I was close enough, he said "I came to talk to my wife. I see it's not the right time. But I will talk to her."

Before I had a chance to answer he just slipped the car into gear and pulled away.

Fuck! 

I turned back to the house, where I stayed until well after the boys had gone to bed, just in case Peter did come back, but he didn't.

On Monday, Carole looked at me and just asked, "Shit is still continuing to happen?"

"Yup. Phone calls on both Friday night and Saturday morning, plus he was sitting in his car outside the house yesterday, just waiting for his chance." I smiled, grimly.

"That's almost stalking. Poor Molly. Doesn't he understand that it's over?"

"It's a long way from stalking yet, but it has all the signs. Is there any chance I can get over to the Abbey today? I'd like to see Piers anyway, I want an off the record official chat."

Carole smiled, "An interesting arrangement. Would you like me to come along and take minutes just so that I can shred them?"

Now I laughed, "No. I want to suggest that he should join the Board. What do you think?"

Carole nodded, "I think he's a natural. But it doesn't solve the problem of a younger, less masculine Board."

"No, it doesn't. But that isn't a reason to hold a good man down. It just makes the problem slightly more urgent. At the moment, Annette Morgan is my only hope. Maybe I should try increasing Tim Johnson's role and see where he goes."

About half an hour later Carole told me that I was having lunch with Piers at the George in Marston, it was up to me whether I actually went to the Abbey.

I decided against going into the Abbey, at least until after I'd spoken to Piers. An unseemly confrontation between myself and Peter about personal matters in the middle of the office was not going to help. Piers was waiting for me in the bar when I arrived, but I immediately whisked him upstairs to the dining room. We kept our conversation to pleasantries until after we had ordered. 

"Can I guess that this is about Peter causing problems? He's been in a funny mood for the last few days, as if he's all keyed up for something."

"Actually, you're wrong. Peter is causing problems, he's on ice that is getting thinner with every step he takes, but that isn't why I wanted to see you." I paused to look at him, straight into his eyes. "I wondered if you'd be willing to join the Board if I asked?"

"As?"

"Director of Research."

I was expecting a happy smile and some enthusiasm. I got thoughtfulness.

After a considerable pause, in which time our food was delivered, Piers looked at me, "OK. I think I've got to. Henri offered it to me a few years ago, I turned it down then. At that time I thought I was better off keeping out of the commercial side of the company, but having listened to the ITI plans for the health market, I reckon I should put a marker down for research and our true interest in the market, in medicine. So, thank you very much, Chris. I'd be delighted to accept......if it was offered" And, at last, he smiled.

"I have to sort out Head Office procedures, but I know I can do that in the coming weeks. You made a very good impression in Hawaii." 

After that, we talked for the rest of the meal about company issues. And we were on to the coffee before Piers asked, "So what has Peter been doing to be skating on thin ice." 

I told him about everything since the decree nisi, and we talked about how Peter must have had this campaign to win Molly back planned out for weeks or months. 

"The only problem I've ever had with Peter work wise is that he doesn't know when to give up. It's the only thing where we have ever had real rows concerning his work. As researchers we get an idea that the answer is in there somewhere. We devise an experiment, we test our theories. If we're very lucky it works first time, otherwise we adjust things and try again, and again and again. But there comes a time when we have to give up..." He smiled "Normally because we run out of money."

"But with Peter, he never wants to give up?" I asked.

Piers half smiled and nodded, "Exactly. That's the time I have to give him a direct order, normally in writing."

I leant back, "Ralph, that's Molly's dad, says he thinks Molly was Peter's first and only love. If you've got the level of commitment that you say he has, and you focus it on his only love, well I guess you end up obsessed."

Piers looked at me and asked, "Do you want me to have a word?"

"No. That would look like it's become official within the company. This is not company business. I guess if he really causes problems it could become that, if Molly has to take out an injunction against him, or if she reports him to the Police for stalking, if it gets that bad. Well, then I guess the company can take an official interest. We don't like our senior executives getting into those sort of problems." I sighed, "I guess I have to nip it in the bud, but God only knows how." 

"Rather you than me." Piers observed.

"I guess there's no time like the present. Is he in today?"

"No, he's at a seminar in London. He might be back late tomorrow afternoon, depending what time it breaks up."

"I guess I should be grateful for that respite." I said rather grimly, but then I brightened up, "When all of this is over, you and Jeanette must have dinner with myself and Molly."

Piers laughed, "Great minds... Myself and Jeanette were talking about that last night. We'd love to, but only when the time is right."

I left it there, and went back to my office.

It was the following day when I found Molly at my place when I got home. She was in the kitchen, and seemed to be halfway through her second glass of wine, going on how much was left in the bottle. And she was looking pale and angry.

I gave her a hug and a kiss in greeting, but as I let my arms drop from around her, but she just sort of clung. 

"What's the matter? Don't tell me, Peter?"

"You got it in one. He was waiting for me outside the school when I went to collect the boys this afternoon. I saw him as soon as I arrived, and I stayed in the car with the windows up, but he came over and started rapping on the window and shouting that he wanted to talk to me, that I was his wife, and I've got to talk to him. Everyone was staring, it was horrible."

"So what did you do?"

"I let the window down a little bit, and I told him that I wouldn't talk to him, that there was no point. That I'd made an offer to talk in a few weeks, but not before. But he kept going on and on. I felt trapped in the car. Then, by accident, I hit the horn button, right in the middle of one of his tirades about how I must listen to him, how I've got to remember all the good times and not throw them away like this. And the noise of the horn threw him, and made everyone stare even more, and he realised that and didn't like it. So, when he'd gone quiet, I told him that I wasn't going to talk, and then I pipped the horn every time he started. Thank Goodness, the boys came out and saw me and the car, and came and got in the back seats. Peter gave up then, and I drove away."

"To be honest, that sounds quite funny. You hitting the horn every time he opened his mouth." Then I realised that now was not the time for humour, "We're going to have to think about getting an injunction to stop him. I can't think what else to do. I'll have a word with a lawyer first thing in the morning."

Just then her phone started ringing. She got it out and looked at it, and then at me, "It's him."

I took it from her hand, without asking, and hit the green button, "Peter, I guess you want to talk to Molly. Well,...." He rang off.

I gulped down my wine. "This is harassment." I said.

"Maybe I've just got to see him. Let him have his say, and then maybe it'll be over." She sounded hesitant and reluctant. "I don't want to bring lawyers in on it. He was my husband for four years, I've hurt him enough, I don't want to hurt him some more." She paused and topped up her wine, "I think that's why I'm scared to meet him; I think I'll have to say some horrible things just to convince him."

"So say them. You say you don't love him, and the hurt is inevitable." I said firmly, but then I softened, "Look, let's do it on our terms, and on our territory. How about if I summons him to my office on Thursday evening say? I'll be there, but it has to be up to you. It would mean that you have to let him have his say, whatever that's going to be, and then you have to say whatever is necessary to make him believe that it is over. The alternative is it'll end up with lawyers or police, one way or the other."

Now she really did look doubtful. "I don't know Chris. He's highly likely to either just walk out, or say some pretty horrible things to you. And you don't deserve that."

"I don't deserve him making my girlfriend's life a misery either. Let me check the logistics of it all tomorrow morning, and you can decide then."

There was a silence between us. It was obvious that Molly was not happy with my suggestion and for a moment I wondered if there was more between her and Peter than she'd ever told me. Suddenly I felt very insecure. But, there was nothing to do but to follow this through to the end.

"Molly, what's the alternative? It can't go on like this. Since last Thursday he's approached you every day. I guess eventually he will give up, but will that be before he's wrecked your life and probably wrecked our relationship. That maybe is what he wants. Don't let him win, please."

"I'm pretty sure that wrecking our relationship is what he wants. You have no idea of the passion with which he hates you. But I love you, I don't want you to get hurt." She paused, and then burst into tears, "Oh God! What a mess. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry......" her words got lost in sobs.

I cuddled her until the tears subsided. Then I asked, "What are you really scared of? Is there some aspect of all of this that you haven't told me?"

She looked at me, "You're right, I am scared. But I don't know what I'm scared of. Confrontation? Having to let hate rule the day? I don't want to have to hate him."

I looked at her, gave her a peck of a kiss, "Let's eat. What were you planning? Or shall we go out?"

"I was going to buy something, but I didn't."

"I see. One chat to Peter and I'm forgotten." I said with over-emphasised dejection. My humour was greeted with a look of horror. It still wasn't the time for joking. I sighed, "Come on, let's go out."

We walked to a nice Spanish restaurant just up the road in Clifton, holding hands but Molly was quiet to the point of being mute. And her silence was beginning to get to me.

Just before we walked through the door of the restaurant, I remarked, "I'm beginning to believe that I wasn't joking, that I am forgotten. It's obvious that bastard Peter, is all you can think about. The guy ruined my life more than you'll ever know, and I'm meant to show kindness and tolerance now that he's having another go. You tell me that you love me; it's a pity you can't show it."

She looked at me sharply, "I am showing it. I'm panicking at what Peter is wanting to do. I've been thinking about it, and I think I've pushed him into a corner. He loves me, he's obsessed. I used to believe that it was just that he loved me a lot, but I'm beginning to think obsession is a better word. And I've driven him into a corner, and he'll come out fighting. And I know that he has a vicious tongue on him when provoked."

We stopped, and looked at each other, "I don't think either of us is really very hungry at the moment."

She half smiled, "I know I'm not. But let's walk, I like the fresh air."

So we strolled along, drifting back towards my flat, but then we walked on past my road, and walked out over the great suspension bridge. Half way across we stood and looked out, at the river Avon far below. The tide was out, and the river reduced to what looked like a muddy stream in the middle of its channel, although in reality it was still a great river.

"Come on Molly, at least tell me what you're thinking."

"I'm thinking that I can't see a way through this without more hurt and pain, and horrid things being said." She turned towards me, "I love you Chris. You've got to believe me. I'm sorry that it's turning out this way." She sighed, "Maybe he'll go away if we can hang on until the divorce is final."

"If you accept that there has to be more hurt, then why not accept my suggestion of a face to face?"

She hesitated, "Because I'm scared of what he might say. I'm sure that he will get really nasty with you, assuming he comes at all. He may just refuse to see me with you there. But I think what he will also do is throw up all my lies, all the times I let him believe that I loved him, that I was committed to him, that I'd put you in the past."

"Well I assumed that you told him you loved him. I can't imagine you married him without saying that." I paused, and asked the question that I dreaded the answer to, "Did you love him?"

"No. Loving you has meant that I know what love is. I liked him, I respected him, I thought he was handsome and sexy and charming and kind and thoughtful and intelligent and all sorts of good thinks. But I never loved him. It's like I told you, for a long time I had two thoughts, that I should love him, that he must be something special to me for me to do what I did. And that I really did want to love him, I tried so hard to love him. There were moments when I felt affection for him, even deep affection. But No, I never loved him."

By unspoken consent, we kissed, and then we started strolling back towards my flat, my arm around her, and her head pressing against my shoulder.

As we walked along, she started again, "I remember the time when I knew that I didn't and would never love him, that I just didn't have it in me. It was a company do at the Abbey; Piers and Jeanette were there, I can't remember the reason. But, I was standing talking in a group of people and Peter came into the room, and he started talking to another group. I consciously thought: there's my husband, I must go over to him. And then it struck me that I never thought like that about you. In the same circumstances, as soon as you came into the room, I would have known you were there. And within five minutes, and without conscious thought, I would have found myself standing next to you. It was something deep within me. With Peter there was nothing deep within me. I thought about that all that night, lying in bed alongside him, and I allowed myself to cry about it the next day."

I gave her a gentle hug in acknowledgement, and said, "You do know that I love you. I always have."

"Are we going to make it?" She hesitantly asked.

"I don't know. There is so much hurt still around. I thought we were leaving it behind, but this thing with Peter has just brought it all back. There are so many regrets, so much hurt and anger, and it won't go away."

"That's what really scares me about facing up to him. If we do, then we risk everything for ourselves."

"But what's the alternative?" I asked.

"I don't know." She answered. ---

As Carole brought me my first coffee of the morning, I asked her to ask Neil to come and see me and then told her that I wanted her to minute the meeting. She looked at me very questioningly, but did as I asked.

Two minutes later, I had Neil and Carole both sitting on my sofas, and I joined them from my desk.

"Neil, I want a minuted meeting, I hope you don't mind." Neil looked very worried, "Sorry, I only want your advice, but I'd like it on record, just in case."

I told them how Peter had been causing problems since the decree nisi. 

"It's only a few days. If you want to do anything official I would think it's got to go on for a week or two at the least." Neil observed.

I nodded, "I think you're right if we wanted to go to the Police for stalking, or maybe even if we just wanted an injunction against him. But I'm inclined to try stopping it before it gets that bad. For his sake as well as ours."

"How?"

"I want to summons him to this office and have a face to face between him and Molly and myself. Let him say whatever he wants to say. I'll make it clear that we are meeting on non-company business, but I don't want him to have any comebacks that he's been unfairly treated by his Managing Director. What do you think?"

Neil thought about it for a moment, and then asked, "You want to use this office for that meeting?"

"Yes."

"Will he be ordered to be there, by you as his MD?"

"I don't know. I'm tempted, but I see your point. How about if Molly invites him by email, say? And she makes it clear that I will be there, and that this office is just a convenient venue. And he is invited, not ordered?"

"As long as you make it very clear that this is not company business, I can't see that there is a problem. The company doesn't say that staff can't ever meet third party people on the premises, or that two employees can't talk about non-company issues."

I smiled, "Good. By the way, what would happen if we left it, and Molly did end up reporting him to the Police for stalking, or got an injunction? What would our policy be against a company employee who ends up in that sort of position?"

Neil smiled, "I'd have to phone Head Office. But I can't imagine we'd be particularly pleased."

"OK." I said. Then I turned to Carole, "Where am I tomorrow afternoon? Is there any chance that we can do it here tomorrow evening, six o'clock say?"

Carole answered without having to consult the diary, "You're out in the morning and out to lunch, but you're back here for the afternoon. And your evening is clear."

"Great. Now all I need is for Molly to agree."

After Neil had left, wishing me Good Luck as he went, Carole looked at me, "You haven't got Molly to agree?"

"She's scared. But I can't see any other way. Except conceding to him what he wants, and that is to talk to Molly alone. And I think she is even more scared of that."

Carole looked at me, and in unison we said, "Shit happens."

I phoned Molly, but she was at work and with a patient. We could only agree when she would phone me back, which she did. She took a lot of convincing, and it was only that she had no answer to my perennial question of 'What is the alternative?' that convinced her. I left her with clear instructions on exactly what she must say in the email, and told her to copy me in.

The email hit my machine within ten minutes and I thought: Now we wait for his reply.

Just before lunch, Carole came into my office, "Molly's been on the phone. You were busy in a meeting, but she left you a message. Apparently, Peter Davis has emailed his reply. He refuses to come here tomorrow evening, he insists that he must meet with her alone. He even suggested that he takes her out to dinner." She looked at me, and then added, "Sorry."




Back to Bristol Ch. 19



"Fuck, sorry. Do you know if he's at the Abbey?"

"Yes, all day. I've checked."

"And what can I cancel to go over there?"

She thought for a moment, "Immediately after lunch. It was a meeting with marketing, to convince you that you should put your name to a series of articles for trade magazines. They can take that up with you at another time."

"OK. As soon as I'm free of my guests, I'm heading for the Abbey. But let it be a surprise."

Carole smiled, "Can I come to take minutes? Or hold your jacket?"

I laughed. Well done Carole for taking the heat out of it.

But, I found the heat remained pretty warm by the time I got to the Abbey, I just hoped I had been OK with my lunch guests. I arrived and just headed for Peter Fucking Davies's office. I didn't knock, I just opened the door and stepped in.

Peter was sitting at his desk talking to two people. I recognised one as Sharon Booth, the other one, a fairly young guy, I recognised as a member of Peter's team, but I'd forgotten his name. Everyone recognised me. 

I looked straight at Sharon and the young man, "Excuse me, guys. Perhaps you could give me a minute or two, but I want a private word with Mr Davies." They scooped up their papers and left, in a hurry and without a word.

Peter Fucking Davies was still sitting at his desk, looking a bit scared. Good.

I leant on my hands standing at his desk, leaning towards him, "Let me be clear. If you want a chance to talk to Molly then I suggest you take up her offer of being in my office tomorrow evening at six o'clock."

He stood up, to meet me at eye level, "Fuck you! I'll talk to my wife, and she is still my wife, when and where I please. It's got nothing to do with you when I choose to talk to her."

"It has everything to do with me when you harass her in the street, outside a school when she is collecting my sons. You do not make a public spectacle of yourself and embarrass her when my boys are there."

For a moment he looked guilty, "Sorry. I didn't think. But I want to talk to my wife. And, I suspect under your influence, she is refusing to do so. I had to see her."

"Well, you have a chance tomorrow evening. Take it. It's your only chance. And I warn you, if you go on harassing her as you have been, I'll very strongly suggest to her that she either reports you to the Police for stalking, or get her to have her solicitor get an injunction against you. Do you really want that?"

I think that shocked him, "I want to talk to my wife." There was a slight petulance in his voice. He paused and just stared at me, "You're enjoying this, aren't you? You don't want her. You haven't taken her back. I don't blame you for that, not after the great marriage I gave her. But you just want revenge. It doesn't matter who gets hurt, as long as you get your revenge."

He paused, but before I reacted, he continued, "You told me that I'd been selfish when I met her. Well, maybe I was. But it was because there were forces of true love at work that I didn't understand. But you are now being truly selfish. You just want to get back at me, and to Hell with how hurt Molly gets in the process."

Now I did react, "You've got to be fucking joking. Of course I hated your guts for what you did to my marriage, to my boys' family. That was cruel, immoral and I hope you burn in Hell for it. But what this is about is allowing Molly to move forward with her life, now that she knows what a calculating little shit she was married to."

He stood back, "And you enjoy that, don't you? Making sure she knows about the mistakes, the misjudgements I made then. But I don't regret any of them. It was the start of a magical marriage, and I'm going to fight for it."

"Well then, let's get the fight over and done with - tomorrow night." I quickly answered.

Now he looked slightly hurt, "Tomorrow night suits me. Your presence doesn't."

"Well, it's your only option. Be there." And I walked out.

Sharon Booth and her colleague were leaning against the wall a little down the corridor, I tried to smile at them, "Give him five minutes to recover."

When I got back to my office, Carole just looked at me, "Well?"

I shrugged my shoulders, "Who knows?"

"Did you see Dr McBaine while you were there?"

"No. I had other things on my mind."

"Well you should have. It wouldn't have done any harm to update him, just in case Peter turns to him for advice."

"I don't think they're that close these days. But, as you say, it wouldn't have done any harm. Bugger!"

Carole smiled, "Shall I get him on the phone?"

"Yes. And tell him that I've been a fucking bastard. He'll understand, and he'll call in here on his way home."

Carole smiled, "Excuse me Dr McBaine, but I'd like to tell you that Chris Bennett is a fucking bastard."

"Exactly." I said and went into my office.

And sure enough, at about half past six, Piers knocked and entered my office. "I hear you're a fucking bastard."

I smiled and got up and went over and poured two small whiskies, whilst Piers sat down on one of my sofas. Piers took his whisky and looked at the meagre measure, "You've been only a bit of a nuisance, I see."

I sat down opposite Piers, "Slightly impolite. I visited the Abbey this afternoon, without the courtesy of telling you."

"I heard. Peter had the honour of a visit."

"Has he spoken to you about it?" I asked.

"Only briefly. He came to see me to complain that you visited him without warning. But I pointed out that you were Managing Director, and that sort of privilege went with the job. I think he wanted to talk, but knowing I was coming here, I told him that I didn't have time, but he was welcome to see me tomorrow, or even phone me at home later tonight. So?"

So, I told him what has been going on, and that Carole thought he might be consulted.

"Well, if I am consulted then it will be the first time since we had our bust up. But maybe, who knows?"

"Well, I don't want you to say anything that you aren't happy with, but I would be grateful if you could emphasise that I do not want this to in anyway affect his position here, it is a private matter. I'm not the MD, I'm just the other man in this eternal triangle."

Piers sipped his whisky thoughtfully, "I'm OK with that. But is he coming to talk to Molly, which I suspect is what he wants to do, or is he coming to talk to you and Molly, which I suspect he doesn't want to do?"

Now I was thoughtful, but eventually answered, "I promise he can talk to Molly directly. I will stay out of it, he can say whatever he wants. But I will be in the room, and I will hear every word.. And, of course, if anything is directed at me, then I will respond."

Again Piers was thoughtful, but then said, "OK. That's fair. Mind you, I'm not sure I would like someone else to be sitting there when I'm having an emotional scene with Jeanette. But I understand. You should understand how hard this is for Peter."

"He brought it on himself." I said with a mixture of resignation and bitterness.

"Yes he did. But he is where he is now. He's hurt and desperate. The woman he loves and thought loved him, is divorcing him because of a man who divorced her years ago."

I was slightly indignant at that, "Why are you taking his side all of a sudden?"

"I'm not. But I am reminding you that there is another side. If you wanted revenge, you've achieved it better than you could have ever dreamed."

"Then why doesn't it feel better?" I studied my empty whisky glass. "You know, you were right, these were short measures."

"No, they were just the right size." Piers said, as he put his empty glass down and stood up to leave.

I watched him go out of the door, and wondered what he was thinking.

I was still sitting there, deep in thought, when I heard a tap at my door, I looked round, it was Bill Ellswood.

"Bill, come in."

He stepped in and sat down where Piers had just been sitting, "Chris, I hoped you'd still be here. I wanted a private word."

"About?" I asked.

"I'm going to resign. I'm going to do it in writing tomorrow, but I wanted to come and see you, to tell you that this has nothing to do with you or with the ITI takeover."

Now that did take me by surprise, "Where are you off to?"

"A small company up in Yorkshire. We're empty nesters, and Niki my wife comes from that way. We always said that we'd go back there when I retire. Well, an old friend has offered me this job, it pays a lot less, but it will be a lot less stress, so it's a sort of semi-early-retirement. And Niki really wants me to take it."

"It sounds like you've thought about it. I assume there is no point in my trying to talk you out of it?"

He smiled, "No. Family comes first, and this is for family reasons. But I really want you to know that the last few months under your management have probably been the most enjoyable and productive since I joined the Board."

"That's very kind, Bill. I'm grateful...." I stood up, and headed towards my decanter, "...because I can be a fucking bastard at times."



Back to Bristol Ch. 20



When I left work I drove straight to see Molly at Ralph's house. Ralph was mowing the front lawn, and just nodded his head in the direction of the house. I found her in the kitchen, sewing a patch on a pair of Ben's jeans. 

She looked up and smiled, "This is special. These trousers are actually wearing out before he's grown out of them. That's a rarity these days."

I kissed her on the top of her head, "That's the trouble with children, they grow up when you're not looking."

"What brings you here?"

I sat down at the table, opposite her, "I had a ..." I paused, "Let's call it a discussion with your nearly ex-husband. I have some hope that maybe he will be there tomorrow night. I think I convinced him that it was his best bet."

She stopped sewing, and just looked at me for some time, "Why is it so important to you that I meet him with you there? I've been sitting here thinking, and I'm coming resigned to the idea that I'll meet him on his terms. Does it really matter if he takes me out to dinner or something?"

Now that was a good question, "I'm sorry, but I don't think I can answer that one without giving it a bit of thought. But you're right, it is important to me."

She looked up at me, "Take your time, as long as I get an honest answer." She paused, "Have you eaten tonight? There's some cold roast beef in the fridge if you want a sandwich."

"That would be perfect, I had a big lunch."

"I know. I smelt your breath. A touch of garlic by any chance?"

"Sorry." I said, as I raided the fridge.

As I made my sandwich, I was thinking about her question. There seemed so many aspects, and some pretty big pitfalls in it. 

Molly just chatted on, but I pricked up my ears when she said, "I was chatted up at work today."

I tried to not show my feelings as I asked, "Who by?"

"A doctor. Dr Ian Wilson. He's early forties. Apparently he had noticed that I didn't have a ring on my finger anymore, and thought I might appreciate some company. He's got his children for next weekend, and he thought that I could bring our two, and take them all out somewhere. He suggested that we go to Longleat."

Suddenly we both burst out laughing, and we were close again. 

As I rejoined her at the table with my sandwich, I said "OK. I think I can answer your question now."

She put her sewing down, and just listened, "You have to accept that Peter and I do have a personal relationship. He came into my life uninvited. He caused me, my boys and my wife more hurt than I would ever have thought possible. I can't forgive him that, I never will. And I want to know that he has gone out of my life for ever, and seeing him go will be far better than just hearing about it second hand. But more than that, I would like to see him totally vanquished. It may not be a very nice side of my character, but I'd admit I would quite enjoy seeing him crawl out of my office tomorrow evening, beaten and in tears."

I watched her, she didn't like that bit. She didn't want to see Peter beaten and in tears.

But before she protested, I continued, "But there is also an element of simply not trusting him. After all I've got good reason not to. If he took you to dinner, I'm not saying he'd seduce you, I'm sure he wouldn't. You'd probably drink mineral water all evening, just to make sure he didn't. But I have to admit that he has something special for you, that he does have a proven ability to get under your skin. And he just might manage to get you to agree to meet again, and then again and again, and the whole clever process starts again."

I looked at her, and she was obviously about to protest at that, but I stopped her, "I know you would say that it would never happen. But you can't blame me for worrying about it."

This time she did say something, "No. Never. For as long as I live, never."

I smiled, and then looked at her with what I hoped was sheer earnestness, "And possibly most important of all: we are and always have been in this dreadful situation together. We face whatever life sends together, and that includes facing up to nearly ex-husbands who are causing problems."

Molly's eyes misted, and she just stood up and came over to me and kissed me passionately. But all she said was, "How many cloves of garlic was it?"

I smiled, and she added, "Stay with me tonight. Please."

"If Ralph doesn't mind, sure. But I'll have to leave early in the morning for my place, I've got no clean clothes here."

Just then, Ralph came in and went over to the sink to wash his hands. "Ralph, would you mind if I slept over tonight? I don't want to cause you any embarrassment."

"You won't cause me any embarrassment." He turned round to look at me and then at Molly. "Is one of you going to tell me what's going on? Molly's been upset all day."

So we told him that we hoped to bring the Peter problem to a showdown tomorrow night. By the time we'd finished he had washed his hands and was pouring himself a glass of orange juice.

He closed the fridge door, and again looked at us both individually, "Peter came between you two, that's the essence of your story. Don't let him do it again. Don't let him win."

It was the next morning, just as I was leaving, that I met Ralph in the hall. He smiled, "I've never thought of your office as the OK Corral, ... " He paused to look me right in the eye, "Make sure you kill him off this time."

That image of a shoot out stayed with me all day. But by about four o'clock in the afternoon I think I felt more like Gary Cooper in High Noon, with the clock at about 11:55. 

Carole sensed my nervousness, and seemed to just be quiet, efficient and calm. She did ask if I wanted anything laid out in my office, and I suggested some cans of drinks might be nice, and then added that a box of tissues should be there, which did make her smile.

She asked, "You do know where the first aid cabinet is, don't you Chris?" which I ignored, but told her that I would suggest that she goes home at about five thirty. She looked crestfallen, "But I've been selling tickets. How will I be able to show people to their seats in the spectators stands?" Which made me smile, and I was grateful for that.

When I got back to my office from an Accounts progress meeting at five thirty, I found Molly sitting in Carole's office, and chatting happily, despite how drawn she looked. After a few words of greeting, Carole said she needed a quick word with me about some things, and she followed me into my office, handing me the usual sheaf of notes.

"Chris, I don't know what you can do about it, but she's as nervous as a kitten. If anyone says boo to her she'll burst into tears."

"I'm not sure I'm much better. I thought about working myself up into a righteous rage, but I've got to remain calm, because I suspect it'll be the other two who'll get emotional. But thanks, Carole. Thank you for caring."

She smiled, "Well, best of luck. And I'll see you in the morning."

As Carole left, Molly started to come in, getting a hug from Carole as she passed. "Can I come in and wait here? Or will I disturb you?"

"Don't be silly. Come on in. Choose your seat carefully, I will sit at my desk, so that I'm slightly out of it. But I suggest you sit somewhere where we can see each other. Then you can send me Morse Code messages by batting your eyelashes."

She didn't laugh, but she did sit at one end of a sofa, directly facing me. I worried for a moment that he would try sitting right next to her, but then I couldn't imagine he would really try getting physical. We made small talk, or I made small talk, Molly just gave me monosyllabic replies. And then, at five to six, there was a tap on my door, and there was Peter Fucking Davies.

"Peter, come in, and shut the door." I said, I hope quite firmly.

He stepped into the middle of the room, and saw Molly. He went to rush over to her, but I stopped him by firmly saying, "Before we start, I want to be very clear, this is a private meeting. It has nothing to do with ITI or this company in anyway whatsoever. We are just using this office as a convenient venue." I paused and he looked at me, but didn't say anything. So I finished off, by saying, "Please sit down. You wanted to talk to Molly. So please do."

He sat down on the same sofa as Molly, but at the other end. So I had a good view of both of them. He looked at me, questioningly. 

"I'll stay here. This is an opportunity for you to say whatever you want to Molly. Please do." I looked at Molly, "Are you OK with that?" She nodded.

I turned back to some papers on my desk, not that I could focus on them at that moment, but I could pretend. 

After a long pause I heard, "Molly, this isn't right. This isn't the way that our wonderful marriage should end. We need to talk. I love you, and whatever you're thinking, I want to go on loving you and being married to you."

"I'm sorry Peter. It takes two to make a marriage, and I don't love you. I never have."

"But....but .... But you do love me. You've said so, so many times." He paused, "I can understand that you want a fresh start, that you feel Susan forced you to marry me. But I've given you your freedom. I accepted that you wanted to break free from the history of the old relationship. But now you are free. You have your decree nisi, and we have only a few weeks to try to put things right with a fresh start."

"I don't see why you think that I will regret it now. Why would I suddenly change my mind about the divorce?" There was genuine puzzlement in Molly's voice.

"But Chris said you'd look on our marriage differently once you had your freedom. That you'd remember all the good things. You said that, didn't you, Chris?"

I looked up, "I never said any such thing. All I said was that you should give Molly the divorce she asked for. For once you should do the right thing. And that if you did, then Molly might remember you with some affection, as opposed to you making her hate you in a long protracted divorce. But your not helping with the nuisance you've been making of yourself recently."

I met his eyes, but then he accused me again, "You told me that she'd told you how good our marriage was. That she'd remember all the good things." He turned to Molly, "You do remember the good things, don't you Molly?"

Molly nodded, "We had some nice times."

"Nice times? Nice times? We had wonderful times." Peter glanced at me, "Remember our honeymoon in the Maldives. How we made love with the windows open onto that marvellous view of the Indian Ocean. How you wanted me, how I pleased you." 

Again he glanced at me. I wondered if this was more about hurting me than winning Molly. 

Molly didn't say anything, so he went on, "We were good in bed. I know I pleased you more than he ever did. You opened up to me, you know you did. How I could please you with my mouth like he probably never did." He paused and seemed to collect his thoughts, "You changed me. I fell in love with you and I've never been the same since. I've loved you and stayed faithful to you ever since that wonderful day in my flat. Our first time, and the day my life changed."

Molly didn't say anything. Peter looked at me again, and this time I felt I could see hate in his eyes, but then he turned back to Molly, "You think you love him. I know you cling to that silly notion. But, can't you see, he doesn't want you. You've had months now, and he still hasn't taken you back, has he? He hasn't and he won't. You'd only get in the way of his ambition, his need to go wherever ITI send him. He doesn't want you or the boys. I do."

Again he paused to glance at me, but then turned back to Molly, "I don't understand. I'm a better lover than he ever was. I have been there for you when he walked out on you. I've taken care of you and even his children for years. And now you want to desert me because of some silly idea that he'll take you back?"

At that point, the pencil I was holding in my fingers just snapped into two pieces. The noise distracted them for a moment.

Molly recovered first, "I love him." She looked straight into my eyes, as if Peter wasn't there, "And I hope that he will take me back." She refocused on Peter, "But that's irrelevant. It's not about me swapping one husband for another. I don't love you Peter."

"But you said you did, so many times. You said you were over him, and that you loved me now. You said we had a marriage that would last a lifetime. You said it on every anniversary. It was your toast to me, to our love. And I believed you, but more importantly, you believed it as well, I know."

"I wanted to believe it. I tried to love you, but I never did. I said it to convince myself as much as you. But I didn't, I'm sorry."

"You lied!" He said it almost in triumph, but with a very bitter undertone.

Molly didn't like that, "I wouldn't talk about lies in our marriage if I were you, Peter. You lied and lied and lied. You know you did. You lied to get into my pants. Isn't that the romantic phrase you use? Well you lied your way into them. And you went on lying and lying and lying. Our whole marriage was based on lies and cheating and collusion."

That outburst from Molly did stop him for a moment. He picked up a can of drink and stood up. He paced up and down in silence for a while, the silence only broken by the 'phhht' of him opening the can.

But then he turned back to Molly, and sat down again, this time with his back to me, "I know I did. I really am sorry about that. In some ways I'm ashamed of what I did. But it brought me you and the happiest years of my life. And I can't regret that. But don't you see? Now that all of it is out in the open, it's a chance to start again. For me to prove that I do truly love you. Give me a chance Moll, please, meet me and let's talk. Not like this, not with him breathing down our necks. You owe me that, at least. I gave you four happy years, I deserve a chance, please."

Molly lent forward and picked up a can and a glass, and poured herself a Coke. She looked up at Peter, "Well, while we're being open and honest, tell me something. How often did you meet with Susan or talk to her on the telephone as you plotted and schemed to push me into marriage?"

I could hear the regret and guilt and hesitancy in his voice as he answered, "Quite often. Three or four times a week, I suppose. She laid down her terms. She didn't make it that obvious, but I knew how I was meant to answer her questions to get her on my side. That I had to promise to marry you, not just have an affair. But I wanted that, so it was easy to agree. And I had to promise to stay in Bristol. But don't you see, Molly? It wasn't all my lies, your own Mother believed that we were a good match. She believed in me, you can't just blame me for everything that happened."

Molly looked shocked, but then a smile of acceptance crossed her face, "Peter, our whole marriage was based on lies. And they went on and on, through all the years." Again, she paused and sipped her drink, "When you came back to forgive me on the night of the Ball, you said we could go to the Ball, or we could go to Our Restaurant and have a meal and talk and finish with a glass of grappa, Our Drink. Because until that first lunchtime with me in Our Restaurant, you'd never drunk Grappa, had you? Even in trying to salvage the marriage, you went on lying. Five years after the first set of lies, you went on using them to try to recapture what they brought you first time around."

"But grappa is Our Drink. Don't you remember, I didn't like it when I first tried it, but because of you, because we drank it on our first time, I tried again. And I learnt to love it."

Molly looked at him with disgust, and in a very bitter voice, "And you go on lying even now." 

For a moment he was silent, and then he looked round at me, "This is your doing. God, you did your research well. Who was it? Who told you? It must have been someone at the Abbey. You've used your position to sneak around and talk about me with my colleagues. You disgust me." 

"Why? Did you have something to hide?" I innocently asked.

For a moment he looked nonplussed, but then he smiled, and still looking at me, "It was a good trick. It's normally quite high proof you know, and I don't know how many times I used it on girls and it always worked." He was proud of his deceit.

He turned back to Molly, "But, after you, grappa did become special. It helped bring me you."

"Don't you mean it helped you get into my pants?" She asked with heavy sarcasm, but then she paused, "In some ways I can understand a man fancying a girl, even if she is married. But I had children, but you couldn't even respect my duty and love for them."

"And I took them in. I did learn to love them. You didn't want more children, and they were the nearest I ever got to having sons of my own. I loved them, even when they did try to provoke me." He looked round at me, but then back to Molly. "Even when they started calling me Elsie. Do you know what that meant? It wasn't the girl's name. It was the letters L and C. They stood for Little Cock." He stood up and looked round at me, "I wonder where they got that idea?"

I smiled in my genuine innocence this time, "Is it true?"

He didn't answer me, but turned back to Molly who was obviously thinking. And then she asked, "And how do you know what it meant?"

"It was written on their blackboard in their den." He said with pride at providing conclusive proof..

Molly looked at him with disgust, "You went in there? You couldn't even keep a promise to young children! You disgust me. Our marriage was never anything but dead. Just accept it."

He sort of collapsed back onto the sofa, "No it was never dead. It was the most vibrant thing." He paused, "I'm sorry that I lied, that I pretended. I suppose I should have confessed at some time. If that really troubles you we could go to a counsellor. That girl Heather that you know. Or any other one. Or we could go away together, to talk, to rediscover each other." I heard his voice lighten and raise, "We could go back to the Maldives. You'd like that. Our special place."

He looked round to check on me. I sat, blatantly listening, there was no pretence any longer. But he seemed satisfied that I was not going to interfere, "You could take a few days out, next week say, and come away with me. If I can't convince you to try again, then I'll accept it, but surely you could come for a week in the Maldives? We could even go back to our honeymoon hotel if you like. Please Molly, please."

Molly leant forward and took one of his hands in hers, and spoke in a deliberate, reasoned voice, "You're not listening Peter. I don't love you. I never have. And a week in the Maldives isn't going to make me love you."

"But....but....you're my wife. I want to take my wife on holiday. Just for a week. Is that too much to ask?"

"Yes Peter, it is."

Suddenly I saw his shoulders shake before I heard the sound of his sobs. Molly looked at me, I wasn't sure what she wanted, but there was a question in her eyes. I shrugged, I wasn't quite sure what she or I should do. She got up from her seat, and went and crouched in front of him, and took hold of both his hands, forcing him to look at her. 

"Peter, you were the one who always said that I still loved Chris. You knew it, it can't really have been a surprise that I eventually admitted it."

He sniffed, a wet ugly snort of a sniff, "But....but I only used to say that because I knew what your answer would be. You would always say that you didn't, and that I was your man now, that you loved me. I only ever said it because it would make you say that you loved me, and I needed that."

"I'm sorry. I lied. For once, you were telling the truth and I was the one lying. I'm sorry." But then her expression changed, she stood up, pulling her hands from his. "But you knew that, you aren't a fool, Peter. In your heart you knew it, like I did. That was your insecurity and guilt. You'd seduced me and trapped me into marriage, but you knew it wasn't real."




Back to Bristol Ch. 20



"No. It wasn't all lies. You did love me. I know you did. And you will do again. When you realise........" He took a tissue from the box on the table and blew his nose. "Come to the Maldives please, Molly. We can have separate rooms if you like. But if you could get away from him just for a few days, then you'd realise what a mistake you're making."

"Why would I want to rebuild a marriage with you? With a man who lied and cheated and colluded to get me to marry him in the first place." Her voice was rising. I looked into her face, it was obvious some demons had suddenly been released from their chains. I considered calming her down, to stop what I knew was coming, but it wouldn't be right to interfere between a man and his wife. And anyway, why should I interfere to save him?

Molly stepped backwards and in an icy but raised voice, continued, "I used to like you, Peter. I used to respect you. But now I know what sort of man you are. You lie and cheat to get what you want. I wanted to love you, I really did. I lost so much when you came into my life, I had to believe that it was all worthwhile. But it wasn't, I knew it and you knew it. And, No, you never pleased me in bed. I haven't the faintest idea whether you're a good lover or not, but I can tell you this: you never did it for me."

Peter stood up, hurt and shocked. His voice went up a decibel or two, "That's a lie. You accuse me of lying, but that's the biggest lie of all. I left you satisfied so many times, almost every time. You never refused me, you always wanted sex, and you know you did. And why? Because you knew it would be good, better than he ever gave you. You know it."

"Rubbish. I only orgasmed when I fantasised. I got good at that. I had to. And I promise you, you were never even in the room in my fantasies."

"I don't believe you. We were happy. You were happy until he came back into our lives. Then you started this wishful notion that he would take you back. What was it? His money? His power and prestige? We have money. I've just settled half my own mother's money on you. You have money now. You don't need your stupid fantasies about him. He isn't going to give you the love, the security, and no, not even the good sex that I can give you." He paused, both of them were standing facing each other, eyes blazing, "I may have cheated as you call it to get into your life, but I don't live with some stupid fantasy that Chris Bennett still loves you and will take you back. You cheated on him. OK I made you do it with my skill as a lover, but you cheated on him, and he isn't going to forgive you and take you back. Come home Molly, let's start rebuilding what we once had."

Molly's eyes were still blazing, "We never had it. All we ever had was lies and guilt and wishful thinking. You know it Peter, and so do I." She paused and took a big breath; her eyes softened and she visibly calmed down, "There's a lot of you that is good Peter. Just try to be decent and go and find a woman who will love you for the right reasons."

Suddenly the confrontation was over. Both their shoulders sagged, and a silence invaded the room.

Peter turned to me, as if he had suddenly remembered my presence, "How could you do this? You accuse me of interfering in your marriage, and now you do exactly the same to mine. You hypocrite. You selfish bastard. You told me yourself that Molly and I had a good marriage, yet you must have your revenge. You know you aren't going to marry her, yet you let her destroy our good marriage. You fucking bastard."

Behind him I saw Molly stiffen in anger, and I spoke to her rather than him, "No, Molly. Let him go. Let him believe whatever he wants. He used to believe that he could interfere in other people's lives with impunity. Does it really matter if he now believes that he's an innocent victim? Let him go."

Peter turned and looked at Molly, "You will realise. And I will wait for you until you do. I promise. I love you Molly Davies, I love you. And anytime you want to go to the Maldives, and recapture what we once had, I'll be there for you." And he brushed past her and just walked out.

Molly and myself just looked at each other for a moment, and then her eyes filled with tears, and I was round my desk and holding her in my arms. 

"Thank you, Chris. I was scared you'd really tear into him, and you didn't." She gave a half sob half laugh, "I did, but you didn't. Why did you stop me at the end? I was about to launch into him again, he had no right to say those things about you. I thought you wanted him to leave here in tears and yet you saved him. Why?"

"Because I suddenly realised I didn't care about him. I didn't care what state you left him in. You gave me so much this evening. By saying what you did, somehow I felt I'd won, I didn't need to prove it, and I didn't care if he knew it or not."

After a pause, we broke apart, and I cleared my desk to go home. "How about I buy you dinner? You deserve it." I asked, in as normal a voice as I could manage.

She ignored me, and asked, quite hesitantly, "He did raise an interesting question." 

I looked up at her, "Surely it isn't a matter of would I accept you back? I love you, and I've said so, and I have no problem saying so. It's a matter of whether we both want the same future, together or apart. And we've still got some weeks to go before your divorce is finalised, let alone doing anything about us. Is that OK?"

She looked disappointed as she always did when she pushed me, and I gave her the same answer, but she said, "I said I'd wait for as long as it takes."

I smiled, "Well it's going to take longer than today. But we are moving in the right direction."

Over dinner Molly didn't seem to want to talk about the meeting with Peter. It was all too painful. I know she had wanted him to go away without her having to say things which would only hurt him, but it had come to that, and she wasn't proud of what she'd said or done. So, I tried to stay off the subject.

But I did have to ask once more about her sex life with him, "Tell me again because I still don't understand. How could you bring yourself to have frequent sex with him if you knew you didn't love him and knew that it wasn't going to do anything for you?"

She smiled forlornly, "It was just something that a wife does for her husband. Like ironing his shirts. I didn't want him to be unhappy, and he loved me and he needed sex, it was the least I could do. It had nothing to do with my sex life, that was erotica and dreams of you." She looked up and into my eyes, "I'm sorry. Knowing that I gave myself to him must hurt you so much."

"Actually, less than you would think or certainly less than I thought it would. The first time, the time in his flat, that hurts, it hurts like Hell, but not after that. It was what was to be expected."

The next day, I had a call from Piers at the end of the afternoon, "Fancy a drink?"

"No, I can't. I've got a business dinner to go to. But I take it you want to know how it went last night?"

"I know how it went. My Deputy is one of the living dead. And more dead than living."

"That bad?"

"When I saw him this morning, I took one look at him and said he should go home. But he said he couldn't. That bastard Bennett would delight in giving him another warning letter or the sack if he did. Apparently you are fucking enjoying this, destroying his life for no good reason. He's a good mind to report him to Head Office for it."

"What did you say?"

"That he hadn't got a leg to stand on. I told him to just get on with his work and to keep his head down."

"Good. If you want some of the gory details, and I don't think Molly would want you to have them all, why not come over to dinner tomorrow night with Jeanette? I reckon it's time that Molly and myself started going public."

And that's what they did. Molly wasn't very happy about it when I phoned and told her. I think she only went along with it out of a sense of duty rather than any feeling of making a progressive step, or even of the pleasure of entertaining friends.

It was Jeanette that came straight to the point, whilst we were having pre-dinner drinks. She looked at Molly and just asked, "Other than whisking you off to the Maldives, did he have anything worthwhile to say? Anything to redeem himself."

Molly looked at me with a very accusing look. I looked at Piers with a very questioning look.

Piers smiled, "Sorry. When I went into Peter's office just before lunch on Thursday, he was reading a travel brochure. He had it open at all-inclusive trips to the Maldives. I asked him if he was thinking of going on holiday, and he said he hoped to be going on one very soon. Remember, I had no official idea about the evening's meeting. He certainly wasn't consulting me."

Molly looked hurt, "He had it all planned out. He thought he could buy me back with a trip to the Maldives. But if he thinks so little of me that he can lie and manoeuvre, then why shouldn't he think that I can be bought?"

I found it rather satisfying that since Molly's initial confession to me, Peter was now going down and down in her eyes.

The evening wasn't a great success. Molly was tense. Myself and Jeanette were OK, in fact we worked hard to keep the whole evening afloat. But Piers slowly went quieter and more sullen as the meal progressed. He brightened up a bit when I gave him a glass of my Balvenie, but even that didn't cheer him a lot. Eventually, just before eleven o'clock, Jeanette took him home.

It took him nearly took weeks to explain himself and apologise. One evening, at about six o'clock he turned up in my office with bottle of Glenkinchie.

"This time I've been the fucking bastard, so I thought I owed you this."

I smiled, "I'm rather glad you were, if this is what it does." And I got up and poured us a couple of whiskies. 

As we sat down, I just waited. Piers smiled, "I'm sorry. And I owe Molly a big apology." He sighed, "I guess my distain at how Peter acted, what he did years ago, was beginning to wane. What I saw, more and more, was just a hurt broken man. A man that I used to think of as a friend was just a shell of his former self, and I'd lost a friend and a great working partnership. And then, when we came to dinner, I couldn't help but think about the dinners we'd had with her and Peter. And I felt that she'd been personally lying to me for all those years. She was the smiling, loving wife of a friend and colleague, that's how I knew her. And all of it was pretence. Sorry, but I took it personally."

"And now?"

"And now I've put it into proper perspective, or Jeanette has done so for me. I was a bit part player in the scene. How I was treated was inevitable and immaterial. And, what else could she do, until she plucked up the strength to do what she did. I'm sorry."

After that we went on chatting, but as I hadn't made much more progress in my thinking, there wasn't much of a personal nature to talk about. Instead, we talked about Franks, and ITI, mainly considering the possibility of letting Franks Engineering down in Exeter float free.

Myself and Molly cruised along fairly happy, but there was always a shadow of what Peter might try doing before the decree absolute could be gained at the end of October. 

There was Molly's birthday before that, on the 14th October, which was a Sunday. I had to be in London on the Friday before hand, so she came up by train and joined me. We had a nice dinner on that Friday night, and great sex at our hotel afterwards. It was the Saturday that was special, for once I went clothes shopping for a woman and with her at my side. We were on the lingerie trail. I was determined that all the sexy stuff that Peter had bought her, and that I'd enjoyed, should be thrown away. Instead, we spent time buying her complete outfits of both super-sexy playtime lingerie, but also several sets of genuinely nice lingerie for her to wear in the daytime. I wanted her to honour her holiday promise that she would be in sexier clothes underneath whatever she was wearing. Stockings were a must for most of the time as far as I was concerned, and she seemed happy with that. Her only argument was that she would only wear hold-ups in the evening, for all day wear she complained that they either slipped down or were like tourniquets on the thighs to stay up. We bought all sorts of sexy tights, sheer throughout ones, ones with sexy little pantie shapes built in, suspender ones, different colours, with patterns, with seams, without seams, you name it; but they were only for fun or for days when it was cold. The sexier side of things was mainly g-strings and thongs, and many of them were to match the bra and pantie sets bought for day wear. There were a couple of bras that didn't hide a lot, and one waspie that I liked and a couple of basques. There was one fantasy item that I saw and insisted on. It was a sort of waspie basque thing, it had shoulder straps, but a totally open bra, that would leave her breasts totally free, and suspenders and a matching g-string. I wasn't sure when I'd get her to wear it other than in the bedroom, but whenever that was, I was looking forward to it.

On the Saturday evening we went to see the musical Chicago, so we were singing all the songs as we drove back to Bristol late at night. As we drove along, I couldn't help but think just how my life had changed since I first drove this car to Bristol in February. At that time I knew I was driving into the unknown, but never in a month of Sundays would I have ever considered what has happened as even a remote possibility. Those thoughts made me determined not to try and predict the future ever again.

On the Sunday, her actual birthday, I gave her my official present, a new bicycle. Molly instantly saw the significance, that I was inviting her on my days out with the boys. And we celebrated her birthday with a family bike ride, a pub lunch and a lot of loving laughter. 

When we got back to Ralph's house, I noticed his expectant look. He obviously had hopes that I would have proposed to Molly on her birthday. I hadn't and he was disappointed.

Peter didn't seem to do anything to stop the finalisation of the divorce. It went through like clockwork. His solicitor dealt with the financial settlement, and Molly got her money. At work, as far as I could understand, Peter was working well. People said he was quiet, and slightly withdrawn, but he was there every day, and did his work. I hardly saw him, we only met once in a while on the design committee for the new laboratories, but he was straightforward and business like then. If we met in a corridor, we would pass with barely a nod.

On the night of the decree absolute I took Molly out to dinner. I knew that this was the end of one chapter for her, but it opened the chapter for me when people, especially Molly, would expect me to take the next step. I took that theme as a pre-emptive strike. 

I raised my glass, "Congratulations on putting Peter behind you. Now we are free to really talk about the future, to what we each want, and to find out if we really can make it together."

I thought that sounded quite positive, and Molly joined me in the toast. But then she said, "I know what I want, even more than when I made my confession. I love you and I want to be Mrs Molly Bennett again." And she looked me in the eye, and just waited. When I looked back and didn't flinch, she added, "And I can wait."

I was thoughtful for a moment, before I said, "It's funny. When we were young I simply fell in love with you and just knew that I wanted to marry you. I didn't really think about the future or what we faced and whether we could make it. I just proposed because I loved you. Now I want to be so sure, doubly certain, that we can make it through. I love you, I know that. But whether we can have a successful second marriage I simply don't know."

Molly's eyes filled with tears, "It's because I hurt you so much. I can understand that you don't want to risk that ever happening again. I just don't know what I can do, I'm just so sorry."

"You're right, I am scared. But it is more than that. I want to be sure that I can make you happy. That I can give you the life you want and deserve. You've had a pretty rough few years, you deserve to be happy and to have the life that you want. And I need to know that I can give you that, and that it's a life which would make me happy."

There was a silence between us for some minutes. Molly dried her eyes on her handkerchief, and the waiter came along and cleared the plates. When he'd done that, I decided to change the subject.

"Well I know something, a very minor something, that I do want. I want you to meet Myra Hepsted and preferably become friends. And I want to meet Myra's other half, Dr Will, the archaeologist from Exeter. How about that I set up that we have dinner with them one night, nothing special, just a friendly dinner somewhere?"

I've never heard a more reluctant "OK" than the one I got that night.

So, a week later, on the following Friday, four of us went out to a rather nice little bistro pub in Bath. Gosh, it was fun! I could talk to Molly, and I could talk to Myra if I didn't mind either Molly's or Will's eyes boring into the back of my head. And I could talk to Will, that wasn't too bad, he was at least capable of making polite conversation, but there was no warmth there. The sad thing was, he was a nice guy. The only good bit of the evening was that Molly and Will seemed to get on OK, in fact they seemed to quite like each other.

First thing on the Monday morning, Myra was sitting opposite me at my desk, "Don't blame me, Chris, it was your fault. You suggested it."

"There must be someone I can delegate the blame to. That's what being MD is all about. I didn't get to this job by accepting my share of the blame." I smiled.

Just then Carole came in carrying two coffees. "Ah, here's a likely candidate." I said, cheerfully. "Just admit it was all your fault, Carole, and I'll see what I can do to save your job."

"Am I allowed to know what was all my fault?"

So we told her, and Carole burst out laughing. "Just tell them that they're stupid idiots."

Almost in union, Myra and myself echoed, "We've done that. It didn't work."

"Oh." Was all Carole said, and as she left, "Shit happens."

And then I had an idea, "Carole come back." I shouted.

When she had returned, "See if you can find out what is going on at the rugby and football on Saturday. I want to take Will for a good afternoon out, and preferably drink too much and do a little male bonding. Find out what's my best bet, rugby or football."

Myra smiled, "You won't have to drink too much. Will doesn't have a strong head on him. Am I meant to take Molly on a girl's shopping trip when that's going on?"

"How could she refuse you?" I said and smiled. "Let's hit the problem head on."

Carole came back not much later to say that rugby was my best bet. Apparently a regular younger group of staff and young doctors were going, and their tradition was to have a good time, as she described it.

I phoned Will with the invite, and he couldn't very well refuse. Then I told Molly that I had to go to the rugby on Saturday, and that I'd invited Will. She could refuse the idea of shopping with Myra, and almost did. It was only when I said I would need her to drive me home from Bath that she eventually relented, and agreed. 

Getting the alcohol into Will was quite easy. He is a nice guy, and was happy to have a beer or two at rugby. But it loosened his inhibitions just enough for him to really have a go at me about using my position to seduce an innocent girl like Myra. When I protested and told him how it was, he mumbled that 'that was what she told me.' But, having got it out of his system, and with another beer, we suddenly became good friends. 




Back to Bristol Ch. 20



When Will and myself got back to Myra's flat we found the two girls happily chatting. They looked at a fairly drunk Will, and I knew I was not at my most sober. Molly just looked at me and said, "Your plan worked then."

I looked at Myra, accusingly.

Myra glanced at Molly, smiled and said, "It worked completely. Which is why we could talk about it." 

As Molly drove us home, she glanced at me, "Sorry. She is really a very nice person. And she is very fond of you in a good friend sort of way."

"I'm very fond of her in a good friend sort of way." I answered and smiled.

On the Monday morning, I got Carole to hunt Myra down, and she turned up in my office just before lunch.

"OK. I used spectator sport and alcohol, what was your secret?"

"She obviously hasn't shown you. We found a gorgeous dress, I think we both wanted it, but it was a bit low cut. So I told her she has better boobs than me, which is true, and that it would look far better on her. The younger woman gave way to and flattered the older woman. Hey presto! Problem solved. And don't tell her I said that. Ever."

"Said what?" I asked.

It was on the Tuesday evening that Molly turned up at my flat in a low cut and rather too dressy a dress for just dinner in the flat. 

"You look nice. We're obviously going out to dinner."

Molly just stepped back slightly from me, lifted the skirt up to her waist. She had stockings and no panties, and her pussy was completely shaved, "I thought you might like to eat in."

And I did, and she seemed to quite enjoy it - twice. When we were lying quietly, she asked, "Have I got to keep it like this always?"

"Oh, No. It's nice and different, but just once in a while. Not all of the time. But it was good. Am I allowed to say that it was a lot better than the last time I tried it? I think that's because I love the girl this time."

"Then you're allowed to say it, this once. I want to leave the past behind, all of the past."

And that led to a long discussion about the future. At first, Molly's only view of the future was to be at my side. But, after a lot of cajoling, she painted a picture of her dream future. And it was certainly with me at her side, but in all other respects it was very different to the view of the future that I had. Suddenly, a very large spanner had been dropped into the works.

I was in two minds as to whether I should talk it through with Molly. It seemed so inevitable that it could be the end of whatever it was we had going. She wanted domesticity and family life in England. I was ambitious and would go anywhere ITI chose to send me, and my dreams were nothing to do with where I lived; to me the world was just one big village. Of course I wanted the woman I loved at my side, and I wanted to be a good family man, but my ambitions were for the business, for the money, for the prestige. Until I had a clearer view, I decided not to say anything.

I fancied chatting it through with someone. But Myra was doing a week's work in London, as her work at Franks started to run down. Piers and Jeanette were on holiday. And Carole had only one thing on her mind that week, this 70th wedding anniversary up in Stroud which was happening next weekend. So I kept my own counsel. 

But over the weekend, I began to get troubled by something else. Was I just finding problems, excuses not to commit myself? Of course our future was a big question, but if I could solve it, then what? If a fairy god-mother came down and gave both myself and Molly the same dreams for the future, would I dash off and propose? I wasn't sure.

On the Monday morning, Carole seemed a lot happier, and I felt safe asking, "I assume the anniversary party went well?"

"It went marvellously. And so many came. I met cousins I don't think I've ever met before, from all over the country. I had a lovely long chat to a cousin, she must be a bit older than me and she's done ever so well for herself, she married well, she didn't marry a plumber. And I'm sure I've never met her before, it was a lovely surprise."

"Good. I'm glad, after all the hard work you put in." I smiled, "Can you see if Myra's in, and ask Neil Davidson if he's got any good candidates for the Client Services Director. If he hasn't, then tell him to put it on hold, a bit of a reorganisation is running through my mind."

Neil came to see me as soon as Carole saw him, and we scheduled a time to sit and talk about some reorganisation ideas. And Myra was still in London, so no heart to heart there then.

It was just before lunch that Carole buzzed me, "I've got Mrs Frances Parkinson on the line for you."

"Frances, how nice to hear from you."

"Chris. I'm in Bath for a few days, while Parky's out of the country. I was wondering if you could keep me company tonight with a spot of dinner?"

"I'd love to Frances." What else could I say to the wife of my boss? But to be honest, dinner with Frances was always a pleasure. "Where are you staying? I'll book something nice."

"No, I'll book it and it'll be a light dinner in my suite at the Royal Crescent Hotel. I see enough restaurants, eating in suits me when I get a chance. Seven o'clock say?"

"I'd be delighted. Thank you, I shall look forward to it."

I was honoured. On a spare evening The Old Man's wife thinks of me as a dinner companion. 

I got to Bath in good time, and even managed to park my car. As I walked along the Royal Crescent I felt quite overwhelmed by the sheer majesty of the perfection of this arc of Georgian splendour. It seemed a combination of science and nature that was somehow bigger than mere man.

When I got to the hotel I was shown to her suite. Frances was waiting to greet me, a picture of elegance and matronly determination, but with kind twinkling eyes behind her glasses.

After our greetings, she asked me to pour us some drinks from the considerable range of drinks laid out on the side. She asked for a vodka and tonic whereas mine was gin.

"So, Frances, what brings you to Bath. It's a beautiful city, and wonderful shopping, but was there a reason?"

"I come from this way. Cirencester actually, and I still have a lot of family down here. There was a big family celebration this weekend, and Parky was away, so I thought I might as well come anyway. It was a 70th wedding anniversary."

I turned and smiled, "And you were the distant cousin that's done ever so well for herself. What a fantastic coincidence."

"I'm sure I've never met Carole before. Neither of us had any idea. And now you know, don't tell anyone. I don't think Carole wants it known at work that she's related to the wife of the CEO."

"She always said she had a big family." I observed.

"Well we had a good talk." She looked straight at me, "We had so much to talk about."

"Me, for instance. Did I pass?"

"I think we very quickly established that we had the same view of you. And Yes, I guess you could say you passed."

It wasn't long before we'd finished our drinks and anyway a waiter was delivering our dinner.

"We're having vichyssoise followed by sea bass, and just some cheese afterwards. I hope that's OK for you?" She said as we sat down. And who was I to argue?

Once we were seated and had started our soup, Frances asked, "Carole tells me that you've been trying to build a new relationship with your ex-wife. How's it going?"

I wasn't surprised, and I did wonder how much Carole had told her. After all, Carole knew almost everything. 

"Surprisingly well. I thought the best I could hope for was to build some sort of friendship that would allow us to give our two sons as good a chance as they can have. They've been the victims for too long."

"Jamie and Ben, isn't it? It must have all been very hard on them, but made easier if they know that they are loved by both of you."

I noticed she knew their names. Was that from years ago, when I've talked about them, or was it that Carole had named them? Either way, I had to admire her caring memory.

"Yes. They seem to have survived, but who knows what deep damage it has done? That worries me. I really got to the point where I thought myself and Molly could put it all back together, and for their sake I was certainly willing to try. I know I love her, but just recently, I'm beginning to believe that it would never work out."

"Carole said you'd been really thoughtful and worried for the last few days. She didn't like to ask what the problem is."

I smiled, "I must really have been bad for Carole to be too scared to ask. I thought she was just wrapped up in her anniversary plans."

"Would you like to tell me about it? I haven't been married to Parky for thirty years without knowing how to listen."

And Yes, I did. I knew I'd wanted to talk it through, and Frances was an excellent listener. It took me the rest of our soup to tell her some of Molly's and my story. 

"So what's the problem? Why the doubts?" Frances asked, as a waiter appeared, apparently unbidden, to serve our sea bass.

"Last week we started talking about the future. Of course, Molly started with saying that her only future was beside me, wherever I go, which is loving and nice, and exactly what I would expect her to say. But I pushed her to try and talk about what she really wanted, and beyond the fact that she was fed up with her current job, and wanted to go into private practice, which was a surprise, I learnt nothing."

I sipped my wine, but Frances just went on eating her fish and waiting.

"So I asked her just to paint me a word picture of our future life, just a snapshot that seems to sum it up."

"And what did she paint?" Frances asked.

"A classic domestic happy family picture. A farmhouse kitchen, the baby happily sitting in a high chair. And that was news, I hadn't any idea that she still wanted another child. I know that she's sensible enough to know that we both have to want that, but it was unexpected, and I'm not sure how I feel about that. But the whole domestic scene, I come in from work, our sons are happily sitting at the table doing their homework, she's cooking the family dinner. You can paint the perfect English middle class domestic scene."

"I can't say I'm surprised. I wouldn't have minded some of that in my life. So, what's your picture?"

I paused, gathering my thoughts, "I guess it's me coming home to a Manhattan penthouse apartment. A chauffeur driven limo, of course. My wife waiting for me on the terrace, with dry martinis at the ready, and she's dressed in a beautiful designer ball gown. I just have time to shower and change into my tux, before we are whisked off in that same chauffeur driven limo to some opening somewhere. As we drive, we put in our daily call to our boys, who are in boarding school back in England, and we tell them how we're looking forward to our family holiday on our yacht down in the Bahamas, say. How's that? It's a long way from a farmhouse kitchen in England."

Frances didn't answer, she just went on eating her fish, and I waited. Eventually, she looked up and sipped her wine. Then she seemed to change subject completely.

"It was interesting at the anniversary party. Some people were jealous of my life, others were horrified." She paused and looked at her watch. "I think Parky is just about to get on a plane in the Philippines, heading for Sydney, Australia, but I'm not quite sure, I get in a muddle with time zones once the international date line gets involved. Some had sympathy that my home is a London apartment, and I am not quite sure where my husband is or even what time it is with him. Some were really sorry that I had to bring up three children with a husband that works twelve hour days seven days a week and is out of the country for half of his time. Others were jealous that I'm rich and on Christian name terms with prime ministers and presidents, and that Buckingham Palace is almost a second home these days. That I've travelled the world, first class; that I have opportunities to sit on the boards of major institutions and charities, and maybe just help a bit in doing some good in the world."

"And how do you judge it? I hope you've been happy."

She smiled, "Oh, I've been happy, and I don't know if I'd have been any happier if life had turned out differently."

I waited.

"But, I've always had an escape clause. Personally, that made it possible, it's the only way that I've been able to face the compromises of life. I know that I'm doing whatever it is because, however much I hate that moment, I'm there voluntarily. I do have an alternative. One day I'll want to give it all up, I'll want to buy a nice manor house in the Cotswold, near Cirencester say, and go back to my roots. There I'll have my retired husband, and I'll play golf with him for a couple of afternoons a week. And I can have my children and grandchildren down for big family Christmas's and catch up on some of the things I've been missing. And that will all start happening when over dinner one evening I say to Parky that it's time. My pact with Parky is that we live his life until I want something different. I know that if I say to Parky now is the time, then by nine o'clock the next morning Parky will have resigned as CEO. There is no question. It's how we make it work."

"Dare I ask how long he's got?" I asked, knowing she had every right to say she couldn't and shouldn't tell me.

"It's getting less, but he's got some things he still wants to achieve, and he's got some time yet."

I smiled, "OK. What does he want to achieve? There's nothing in the company mission that's a particular milestone for him."

Frances looked at me, considering what to say, "Now I am talking out of turn. I can tell you some things, although I probably shouldn't." She paused again, making up her mind, "He wants to make me Lady Parkinson, which I have to admit I'd like. He wants to see you and Patrick Redmond on the main board. He wants to be sure that Gerry Amersham doesn't inherit his crown when he goes. He wants to see all divisions operate on all five continents, so that he can truly say that ITI has a worldwide span. And a few other things that I can't tell you, and probably a few more that I don't even know."

Again apparently without being summonsed, the waiter appeared and cleared the table, and laid out a cheese board.

When he'd withdrawn, Frances looked at me, "That Manhattan apartment and chauffeured limo can be yours, Chris. But you have to want them, and be prepared to sacrifice an awful lot to achieve them. I've allowed, yes allowed, Parky to do it. But that was because I wanted them to. And we've been very lucky because he has achieved so much for both of us."

"And where does that leave me with Molly?"

"She will have to be happy being like me. In the early years it was a new home, frequently in a new country, every four or five years. Then there was critical, heartbreaking years, of putting my children in the care of the cabin staff as they flew back to Britain to their boarding schools where I wouldn't see them for weeks on end, leaving me on the concourse in tears, and going back to an empty apartment because Parky was off somewhere or other. Yes, I put up with it, and we have the benefits of the material winnings and the prestige now. But I paid for them in my tears and lonely nights and maybe in some regrets. But we do have a good life now, as empty nesters. I don't know whether it was a good bargain, but we got through it and have our winnings to show for it. But both of you have to want those winnings awfully badly."

I nibbled a piece of Brie and said, "You make it sound as if you had years of unhappiness. I couldn't ask her to do that. Did you know what you were letting yourselves in for when you started?"

"No. I knew I loved a burningly ambitious man, and as I loved him I was willing to follow him wherever he went. At first it was the Navy and for him to travel the world. Then it was ITI and to build a business. Achieving his ambitions has made him happy, Parky loves his job and I want to see the man I love happy. But, because of our pact, I know he loves me more than his job. I need that, otherwise I would have given up on him long ago." She popped a grape into her mouth and smiled.

She rose, the meal was over. "Lets sit down more comfortably, they'll bring us some coffee in a minute."

As we waited for the coffee, I was quiet and for a moment I was deep in thought. I heard Frances's voice, "Have I helped or hindered?"

I smiled, "Both. You've helped in that you've crystallized the problem. I know that Molly isn't like you, she doesn't have that need for great achievements or super wealth. She would follow me anywhere, I know that, but I don't think she'd be truly happy. And I couldn't do that to a woman I love. It seems to me that there is no avoiding it, I've got to choose between the woman I love or the job and company that I love. But it's a two edged sword. If I did give up the job I love and go off and become a bean counter somewhere, well that wouldn't work because then I wouldn't be happy. That isn't a formula for a happy marriage either."



Back to Bristol Ch. 21



I left Frances and the Royal Crescent Hotel as a fairly depressed man. I had thought, now that the divorce was over, we would get a fairly straight run to a romantic proposal somewhere. But not yet it seems. I wanted a few more weeks yet, to settle my final doubts and fears, but I was getting there. And one idle conversation with Molly about her view of her future, and I'd blown my plans and dreams sky high.

Driving home from Bath, I began to think that maybe it was time to start working towards some lifelong friendship with Molly, and letting her down gently from hopes of marriage. That was a sad thought, and even at home, two glasses of Balvenie didn't hide its sadness.

The next morning, I was in a more optimistic mood. I decided not to say anything to Molly until I had thought it all through. But for that I wanted a friend to talk to. I couldn't talk to anyone at Franks or ITI; it was about whether the Managing Director should resign or not. I couldn't talk to Ralph, it wouldn't be fair on him, and anyway he would be biased. I cursed that Keith Walters was now in San Diego, I even wondered about flying out to see him for a long weekend. Mum was no good, Len might be a possibility, but they were down in Australia and I needed to talk, face to face. But then I suddenly had a brainwave, it was time to turn to my big brother. Now that I knew who I could talk to, I was in a fairly happy mood by the time I got to the office.

Happy enough to have a little fun with Carole, who greeted me with "How was your dinner?"

"Fine." I said with a straight face, "Frances is a nice person. I've always enjoyed talking to her."

Carole looked a little nonplussed, "What did you talk about?"

"Oh, you know. This and that. Quite a lot about how she lives, being married to The Old Man."

Carole looked peeved, "Oh." Was all she said.

I paused for a moment, then I said, "Carole, I want to talk some family things through with my brother. Any idea how I could end up in Newcastle for a weekend?"

"Not off hand. But I'll think about it."

And we left it like that until just after lunch, when Carole came to my desk "I did have one idea for getting you to Newcastle. John Wheeler wanted you to go to Edinburgh last week to meet some new client up there. I told him you couldn't take a whole day out to fly up to Scotland just for one client. But I've just phoned him, and the moment has passed apparently. I think you're on your own on this one."

"OK. I'll give Brian a call, and maybe I'll just fly up there for a day at the weekend."

"This family thing? It didn't come out of your dinner with Mrs Parkinson, did it? I expect she talked a little about family." Carole smiled, looked hopeful and waited.

"No, it comes out of something I want to talk to Brian about, future plans and all that." I reassured her, deadpan.

That lasted her until going home time, when she came and sat at my desk, "OK. You win. I know you know. And I didn't tell you yesterday."

"What? That you and Frances Parkinson are cousins? I thought you didn't want that talked about in the office." I looked at her.

Suddenly she laughed, "I deserve that. If I drunk whisky I'd call you a fucking bastard." And I laughed.

When she'd left my office, I phoned Brian. Morag answered and called him to the phone.

"I see you're home already. I'm still in the office." Was my opener.

"So you should be. You earn more than me, so it's right that you work for it." Was his quick reply.

I paused, and was just about to ask if I could come and see him, when he simply asked, "How's it going? You and Molly? I get second-hand reports from Mum, so I guess you're still talking. Has she divorced the bastard yet?"

"Yes, a couple of weeks ago. But that's why I phoned. I think I need some brotherly advice. I was wondering if I could come and see you this weekend?"

"You're more than welcome, Wiss. What do you want, some stiffening of the backbone to pop the question?"

"No, it's a bit deeper than that. You don't have any idea of an excuse, do you? Something I could tell Molly to let me come up."

There was silence at the other end of the line for a couple of minutes. Then "Could you get here at a reasonable time on Friday night?"

"Probably by about seven-ish. I could leave a bit early, and catch a late afternoon flight."

"Then I can invite you as a guest for a dinner. Tell Molly that you're rescuing me because my original invitee has let me down, and I want someone who's got international business experience to talk to some students. How's that? And it's almost true, inasmuch as you'll get a dinner at a hall of residence and have to talk to loads of students. But can't you tell her the truth, it's normally a better plan in the long-term?"

"I'll try. But thanks for the back-up excuse. Where shall I find you?"

"Standing in Arrivals at the airport."

"Thanks, Brian."

When I got home, Molly was waiting for me. She looked a bit suspicious when I said "Let's go out to eat." But she didn't say anything. Well not until we had some wine in front of us, "So, what is it that you're going to tell me or ask me?"

"I spoke to Brian today. He's invited me up there for Friday night. I thought I'd come back late Saturday. So that rather kills us doing anything at the weekend."

"OK. Do you want me to run you to the airport?"

"No. I'll have my own car." I looked at her, "I'll try to make it up to you on Sunday. Let's do something together with the boys."

"OK. Just going for a bike ride would be nice, if the weather's OK."

"You don't seem too worried."

She looked at me, "Chris, something's worrying you. If talking it through with Brian helps, then great. It's obviously something that you can't share with me, and that's OK. It's probably something that I'd be pretty biased about."

"It is." I said, and squeezed her hand, "Thank you." And suddenly I felt overwhelmed by her understanding and tolerance and had to say, "I do love you."

She just smiled.

On Wednesday Carole booked my tickets for Newcastle and I emailed Brian the times. He quickly replied telling me to bring my walking boots. His suggestion was that we could do some walking of Hadrian's Wall while we talked on Saturday. And that's what we did.

It was a typically cold and very wet Saturday morning in late November. The rain was fairly light in quantity, but it was driving in a strong westerly wind. The sort of rain that doesn't seem so bad at first, but gets through everything but the most waterproof of clothing, and leaves you shivering and dripping wet.

"OK, Brian. I'm not sure what you're trying to prove, except that there are some pretty good glimpses of Hell on this planet, and this is one of them."

"Sorry Wiss, I couldn't plan the weather. I just thought some fresh air and exercise in the shadow of the Wall would help you clear your mind."

I looked at the Wall, through the grey misty weather. There was something awe inspiring about this mini Great Wall of China that rolled out, over the bleak moors and hills as far as the eye could see. It did have an effect on the emotions, in the shadow of something that has stood here since the Romans built it nearly two thousand years ago, it's difficult to be too upset about the problems of day to day life now. 

As we tramped along, Brian summed up what I'd told him of my problems last night. And asked, "Don't you think Molly has a right to say whether she'd be happy following you wherever your company sends you?"

"No. Because I know exactly what she'd say. She'd say that we would manage. That she'd be happier with me than apart. And I don't believe that a family is happy with a mother at the heart of it who is basically unhappy. And, on top of that, I love her, I want her to be happy."

Brian didn't answer for some time, he just trudged on slightly ahead of me, "OK. So it seems that you have accepted that you have to change your job if you want a future with Molly. Is that so terrible?"

"In itself? No. ITI pays me fantastically well. I'm on a six figure salary and the first number isn't a one. And do you have any idea what my corporate bonus was last year? Just under half a million. I like that, it is a very factual way of saying that I'm good at my job, and that I'm a member of a great team."

"Fucking Hell, Wiss!" Brian paused and stood up straight just looking at me, "Do you have any idea how much I earn? It's not one a tenth of that." But then he smiled, "Good for you. But you can definitely pay for the beer at lunch time."

Brian started trudging again, "So, it's all about money. How much are you willing to lose so that you can have Molly?"

"That's a shitty thing to say, Brian. You know me better than that. I'm not saying I don't like the money, and it would be nice to use it to buy Molly and the boys a good future, but no, it isn't all about money."

"What is it about then? You tell me, Wiss. What is so special about this job?"

And I did. On how I like the challenges that ITI have always given me. On how I like working for The Old Man. On how I like thinking of the world as a village, where location and residency didn't matter. Even on how I liked moving on to something new every few years. 

Brian listened, but didn't say a lot. And as the rain came down harder we both just trudged along. Every now and then, Brian would ask me another question about working for ITI, but he was just feeding his brain with all of the facts.

Eventually we got to lunch, we had come down from the high line of the wall to the road, and a pub, and it was warm and dry inside. Yes, there was comfort and warmth in the world, I'd just given up any hope of ever finding it again.

It was when we'd finished eating and I'd bought the second pints, Brian looked at me, "I don't see what the real problem is. You want to link up with Molly again. You know that that is the only thing that will really make you happy, or you should do after the miserable years you had without her. You know she'll be happy for as long as you have your present job, and you reckon that that will last for another three or four years at least." 

I smiled, "Now that you put it like that, you're right, it isn't an emergency. Nothing terrible is going to happen tomorrow."

"What would you do if you had to leave ITI?" He asked.

I considered that for quite some time, at least for half of my pint. "I'm not sure. I quite like the idea of doing a start-up, forming my own company and doing my own thing. But, I'm not sure I'd want to sink all my money into something as risky as a start-up, even if I'm in charge; not while I've got responsibilities towards the boys.. And more important, I can't think what it would do. Except for consultancy, I can't think what a company that I could set up could do."

"Well, you reckon you've got at least three years before the problem occurs, and if you're lucky, it never will. Three years to decide what you would want to do." Brian drank some of his pint, but never took his eyes off me, "I don't understand. It isn't that big a problem, and you are more than capable of sorting it out for yourself. You didn't have to fly up to here to talk to me about just that."

"Oh, I don't know, Brian. I just so want to get it right this time. I don't think I could take it all falling apart on me again, and I'm pretty damn sure Molly couldn't. Nerves, I guess."

Again, Brian's inquisitor eyes just looked through me, "Nerves? Yes. And?"

"And what?" I asked, suddenly lost in this conversation.

"And there's something else. I don't think you even know what it is. But something else is holding you back. And so you made a mountain out of a molehill as an explanation to yourself. But there's something else."

"No nothing. I just want to be sure, that's all."

"Wiss, I've known you all your life, and nearly all of mine. I was your best man when you married Molly first time. You are the most strong, self assured man I know. There wasn't a glimmer of doubt in you that first time. Now you're scared and hesitant. I think that's why you flew up here to see me, but you don't even know what the question is, so you can't actually ask it."

"And you talk the most convoluted bollocks ever. That's what comes of reading too much poetry." I smiled.

Brian smiled, a smile of victory, "So, now that you've cleared up your career problem, you're going back to propose. I can look forward to an announcement by tomorrow evening?"

There he had me, "Well, I don't know about that. And anyway, Molly should be the first to know, don't you think?"

He smiled and gave way diplomatically, "Of course. Sorry. Come on, let's walk back. We'll have the wind on our backs this time."

Damn fucking clever brothers! I pride myself that I'm self-assured, quick on my feet, and that I understand myself and other people. I don't actually know whether any of that is true, but I like to think it is. But now I felt like Sherlock Holmes must have felt about his older brother Mycroft. However good he thought himself, he knew that Mycroft was better.

As I sat on my plane heading back to Bristol that Saturday night, Brian's observation that there was something else plagued me. There was, if only I knew what.

On the Sunday, I didn't feel like going cycling, walking a short part of Hadrian's Wall had been enough exercise for one weekend. Instead I took Molly and the boys out to lunch, and then on to a film for the afternoon. I'll admit that the film was my idea, it stopped Molly looking at me with searching eyes, as she had all through lunch.

We were back to Ralph's house before her polite silence on the matter was broken. "Brian didn't help then?"

"Actually, he did. I had a big worry that I couldn't offer you the future you deserve, that I would only make you unhappy. And I couldn't bear that."

"That's rubbish. You are the only one who can offer me the future that will make me happy. That's just you worrying too much or something."

"No, it wasn't..." and I told her my worries about the demands of ITI. And, as expected, she promised that she would be happy anywhere in the world, that we would cope. But then I painted the same picture that Frances Parkinson had painted for me, of the loyal wife saying goodbye to her children at an airport, and how she returned to an empty apartment. Molly wavered at that point, and less convincingly said we'd manage to get through it. And I knew that I'd been right.

That feeling that I was right cheered me, and I could put on a show of being very positive. But, in the back of my mind was that feeling of doubt; that Brian's concern that I had deeper doubts just got one size bigger.

Our schedule of seeing each other every Tuesday and Thursday evenings had relaxed a lot. Now we saw each other often, but on a much more flexible basis. And she didn't seem to upset when I told her that I wasn't going to be around on Thursday evening, that I had to be in London overnight. But I promised to make it up to her by promising to take her out on the Friday instead, in fact, I asked her to book up something, whatever she fancied, and I'd do it.

On the Monday, Carole asked me how things were, and when I told her that some unknown force was holding me back, her diagnosis was simple, it was nerves. Simple fear of stepping into the unknown. And her solution was a little Dutch courage, and a candle lit dinner in a lovely restaurant, and just to be brave enough to pop the question. And for once, I knew that Carole's wise advice was absolute crap!

On the Thursday my main priority was to get Piers confirmed as the Director of Research. It had been over two months since I'd first suggested it to Piers, and every bureaucratic hurdle that could have been put in the way, had been. I'd got The Old Man's approval within a couple of weeks, but it was company practice that board appointments were only made after the candidate had met all members of the Group Board, and that had been impossible to organise. Today we had appointments in the morning to see the last two Group Directors. After that I had a lunch planned with an old client, before moving on to playing my part in a big presentation to an important potential client, and that included taking them to dinner afterwards.

My day went well, and I was back to my hotel by ten o'clock, and went into the bar. I was sitting on a barstool, sipping my second whisky and trying to psycho-analyses myself as to what stopped me from proposing to the girl who I knew was the great love of my life, when I felt someone standing next to me.

"I hope that's not blended grain." Said a familiar voice with a Scottish accent, and Piers sat on the next stool.

I ignored his comment, and asked a question, "What are you doing here?"

"I went to a seminar this afternoon, and I'm back there tomorrow. But I've just got back from having dinner with Fraser. Another one? What was it?"

I nodded, "It was Balvenie, as I drink one of their better ones at home, I thought I'd try their standard stuff."

"I'll not argue." He said, and asked the barman for two more Balvenies.

We sat in silence until the drinks were served, when after his first sip, Piers looked round at me, "You are the picture of a man who is deep in thought and not particularly happy."

I smiled weakly, "I was pondering one of the imponderables of my life. Why can't I propose marriage to the great love of my life?"

Piers didn't answer, he just sipped his drink. After some time he asked, "You once said to me that you found that things that were important last week aren't important this week and vice versa. Is there some aspect of the story that has passed you by completely?"

I glanced round at him, "No. I don't think so. I think I've asked every question, thought about every answer and I don't have any unknowns in the story."

"But have you forgiven her?"

I smiled again, "You tell me what it means and I'll tell you if I've done it. I'm sorry, but I can never forgive her for cheating on me, and then letting me bear all that pain whilst she went off and married Peter. But, do I understand it? Yes. Do I think it would ever happen again? No. Can I live with it? Can I put it in the past? I guess so. It happened, there's no point in beating myself up over it, or her for that matter." I shrugged.

"Maybe it's just a matter of time."

"It's been six months since the confessional. And everyone, including me, expects an answer. And I don't think there's any reason why I shouldn't be able to give one. But something inside of me ......."

Piers looked at me thoughtfully, and then tentatively said, "Is it that somehow you feel that she's had a fairly easy run, and you begrudge that? Within the last few months, she's admitted that she screwed up big time. I mean really screwed up, wrecking her life and doing a lot of damage to everyone around her. And I include Peter in that, he should have been told to bugger off and to go and ply his trade on someone who might actually accept his morals and attitude. And now she is divorced, living comfortably with the family grandfather, and with the man she really loves on the point of asking her to marry him. I'm sure it hasn't been easy for her, you two must have had some rough times, but all in all, she's almost got away with it. Do you feel she hasn't earned her redemption?"

"That's a rather cynical way of looking at it. She's suffered, she's suffered like Hell." I turned to look at him, considering his question. I didn't know the answer. Then I smiled, "But if you get me another Balvenie then I'll forgive you." 

Piers smiled, "If you won't give me a clue as to what is wrong, I can't give you any advice as to how to solve the problem." And he indicated two more to the barman.

He looked at me and asked, "Is it that deep down you're scared that she might do it again? She slipped once, what's to stop her doing it again?"




Back to Bristol Ch. 21



I considered that for a sip or two. "I don't think so."

Piers accepted my answer, but probably noted the hesitancy. "Mankind is a fairly stupid animal in some respects. He doesn't learn from experience. You've only got to look at history to realise that, the same bloody mistakes being repeated time after time." He paused and sipped his whisky. "But that's not quite true. Man doesn't learn from other people's experience. He or in this case, she does learn from their own experience. Molly made a mistake. And out of it she wrecked her life and everyone else's. She'll have learnt that nice kind gentlemen friends who chat you up can cause havoc. She won't do it again, Chris."

"I know that. I just wonder if I feel that." I finished my whisky. "Maybe."

We only had one more round after that before we drifted off to our beds.

Life went as usual for the next few days. Molly didn't ask questions, but I caught her just looking at me on more than one occasion. She hadn't booked anything for the Friday, but had booked two theatre tickets for the next Friday, because she preferred next week's play.

It was after lunch on Sunday, and I was just leaving Ralph's house when Ralph stopped me as I came out of the front door. He just looked at me, "Time for a sherry." He said with a smile, and I followed him to his shed.

"How's your divorce going?" I asked.

"I think we're agreed at long last. I reckon we can ask for the hearing some time in January. It was a war of attrition, and eventually she had to concede. I'll get what I wanted, just buy her an annuity and she's out of my life, and I can get on and enjoy my retirement. I'm going to put the house up for sale after Christmas."

"Does Molly know? I ought to talk to her about making sure she's got somewhere to live."

"There's no hurry." He paused and looked at me for sometime, "But you should talk to her. There's obviously some problem, and you aren't talking to Molly about it. She hasn't the faintest idea what's going through your head."

"Hence the sherry." I said with a smile. "Oh, I don't know what the problem is. If I did I'd solve it."

There was a long silence while we sipped our sherries, then Ralph said, "You know what would really get to me, if I were you?"

I looked up wondering what he was going to say, and he continued, "First, I don't know that I could forgive any wife that screwed around on me. And although she's my daughter, and I'll forgive her anything, that's what she did to you." He paused and looked at me, but I didn't react, and he went on, "And second, that she spent four years having sex with another man. Now that really would give me nightmares."

He waited and I had to answer, "I don't have problems with what she did in her marriage to Peter. I have problems that she actually married him, but I've accepted that. And once married, she did what any wife was expected to do."

"And the first problem? Do you think she would slip again?"

"No, absolutely not. But, somewhere in that area I reckon there is still some stupid residue hurt of mine. But I know what happened, and it's almost excusable. Not quite, but almost. And surely, I should be able to forgive her what happened five years ago?"

Ralph drained the remains of his sherry, "Talk to Molly. Throw it on her shoulders. She got you into this mess, it's up to her to get you out of it."

I looked at him, and wondered, what could she do that I couldn't? I took my last sip of sherry, "Maybe." Was my only reply.

But on Tuesday night, Molly pressed me quite hard. It was after dinner at my flat, and we were both sitting on the sofa, I guess we were just beginning to tentatively move towards necking and moving towards the bedroom. Well, anyway, that's what I was thinking of doing. But then Molly said, "You talked to Ralph on Sunday afternoon. What about? Was it whatever is troubling you? Talk to me Chris."

I stared at her, I saw a woman I loved, that I wanted, and yet... "I don't know what's troubling me, I wish I did. I love you Molly. I love you so much. But, I don't know....maybe it's just my stupid pride. Maybe it's that I can't get over what you did. I don't know, I just don't know." My voice was rising in desperation.

"But I've said I'm sorry. I know I hurt you so much. But I am sorry, so sorry." The tears were back, "I don't know what else to do. I've explained everything. There are no secrets. What do you want me to do, Chris? Tell me, what am I supposed to do?"

I calmed down slightly, "I just don't know."

Molly wiped her eyes, "Let's go and see Heather. Please Chris, we'll go together."

Suddenly, my anger rolled back in a big way, "You cheated on me, Molly. You cheated on me. And that's you're answer? Say sorry and spend a couple of hours with a bloody counsellor? Screw who you like and just say sorry afterwards?" And now my tears began to flow. 

I turned my back on her, and felt myself wanting to curl up into a ball. Molly put her arms around me, "I know. I know. I don't blame myself as much as I used to for what happened that afternoon. But I know, whatever Peter did, I should have spotted it and stopped him."

From somewhere deep inside me a phrase that she had used six months earlier came out, with some sobs, "You said you wanted him. That you wanted him inside of you. That I was forgotten. I loved you Molly, and you forgot me." My tears now flowed easily, "You forgot me."

I could feel the back of my shirt getting wet from her tears, "I know. I'm so sorry. I'll never, ever forget you again, not for a moment. I promise. I'll prove it to you. I don't know how, but I will."

We sat there in silence for some time, until both of us were ready to dry our eyes. 

I looked at Molly, and she said, "I meant it, I will find a way of proving to you that I'll never forget you again. I don't know how yet, but I'll find a way." 

"I don't think there is a way. It's just something that I'll have to get used to." I said. "Other guys get over these things, I guess I will."

"No, maybe I need to do something to show my sorrow and commitment as well, it's my absolution. My atonement." She paused, "Would you forgive me if I don't come around on Thursday night, not unless I've worked out what to do? There is no point in just sitting looking at each other with this hanging over us."

Now I was worried, "We're not at the end are we?" 

She smiled, "Oh! I hope not. Don't give up on me yet, not after we've come so far."

"Well, we've got theatre tickets for Friday. Let's stick to using those. And we've got the Company's annual dance on Saturday, you said you would come with me to that."

She frowned, "I know I did. But, are you still sure you want me there? I was Peter's wife last year, that's how they know me. What will they think of you, turning up with the ex-wife of one of their colleagues?"

"I want you there." I said, and tried to smile. I knew she dreaded facing everyone, but I felt it had to be done sometime.

I got through the rest of the week. Carole sensed that something was wrong, but she kept a discreet silence. Myra was more often in London that in our offices these days as she began to wind up the transfer of ITI systems. And I didn't see Piers at all.

Friday was busy, and I was late. I did phone and warn Molly and she was waiting for me at my flat when I eventually got there. "No time to eat now, we'll get an after show supper. Let's just go."

It was a miserable, dark and wet night. The rain was fairly light, but it had been going on for hours and everything was wet and glistening and miserable. Of course, on wet nights everyone uses their cars. So there was no where to park, and I drove around and around, getting further and further from the theatre as we went. Then I'd drive back to the best car park and start the tour again. I was getting to that edgy stage where all that mattered was getting parked and getting to the theatre before the curtain went up. Eventually I found a parking spot on the street. It was a good ten minute walk back to the theatre, and the curtain went up in fifteen minutes. 

I hurried Molly on, both of us huddled under my umbrella, and with me mumbling about how we might as well have left the car at home and walked from my flat, it would have been quicker. And suddenly Molly stopped. 

"What's the matter?" 

"Did you see what we just passed? It's the answer."

I looked up the street, there were a few shops; all of them looked closed, except for one dubious one which was a Tattoo and Piercing Parlour.

"No I don't. There's nothing. Come on, you were the one that wanted to see this play."

She stood firm, "Do you remember I told you about reading a bondage sort of book, way back in my bad times?"

I was abrupt, "Yes?"

"In it, The Master had the girl's pussy pierced. A row of rings down each side. He used to like hanging weights on them. He wanted her to have stretched pussy lips." She shrugged, "Don't ask me, it seemed rather odd, but I guess it hit the spot for some readers. Anyway, don't you see? I'll have my pussy pierced, just one ring on either side, low down. And you can get a padlock and lock me up. I know it's extreme, but think about it, you could have the only key, and then you'd know that you were safe. And you would know that I'd never forget you again, not with that on me. Please Chris. I need to show you that I love you, and that I'm sorry. And that I'd never do it again."

The whole idea struck me as pretty revolting, not my scene at all. But it also struck me as pretty unlikely. Molly had obviously not thought about the piercing process. Her phobia hadn't struck in yet.

"Molly, think about it. Piercing? Needles? Holes in your flesh?"

She looked at me, and she had thought about it. She was white and tears were rolling down her cheeks, "I know. But I want to show you. I'll need you there. If I'm lucky, I'll just pass out. Please Chris, let me do this for you. I've got to show you. Please."

Was she bluffing, knowing that I would never put her through this? I had no intention of letting it happen, but I was aware that the closer she got to thinking it might, was closer she got to proving to me that she would go that extra mile.

"OK. I suppose it might work. But are you sure? You'll have to sign a release form. And do you want a stranger playing with you down there?"

She was now a pale green colour, and I could see beads of sweat breaking out on her forehead, "Yes. Hold me, please Chris. And please, let me make us happen. Come on, take me in. Right now, before I get too scared."

And she turned round and started heading back towards the Piercing shop. I caught her up and just put my arm around her.

When we went in, I could feel Molly shaking. But she was the one that spoke to the guy who came out from beyond a curtained doorway. He was tall, and thin, and had two piercings on his face, plus several ear piercings. But he also had grey, intelligent eyes. And, as he moved, I could see that his body was a mass of tattoos, from his open neck shirt down to his wrists, where the tattooing suddenly stopped leaving his hands unblemished.

"I want to be pierced." Molly said, quite firmly. "Can you do it now? I want an intimate piercing."

"I could do it now, but you don't look very well, lady? Are you OK?"

"I'm fine. Just a little nervous, that's all. But it's very important to me that I get pierced, now, tonight." She turned to me, "Tell him, Chris. You explain."

So I did, with Molly interrupting again to say just how important it was to her. Then she prompted me to explain about her phobia, which I did. I told him that she might just faint, but there was a chance that she would fight, and that might be a problem. He looked at me, and then back at Molly. "Are you sure, lady? Can't you think of something else?"

Molly looked at me, there were little beads of sweat along her top lip, "I'm sure. I've never been more sure of anything in my life. Now where do I have to sign?"

He produced a photocopied release form, and Molly signed it without reading it. She turned to me, "You sort out the details; I need to sit down." 

The guy pointed to another curtained doorway, "In there, if you're sure. Take off your pants and sit in the dentist's chair."

Once she'd disappeared out of sight, I turned back to the guy, to explain some things of my own, and to ask a few questions. Once we'd sorted out the details, I went in to the back room. Molly wasn't in the chair. She was sitting on the floor, with her back to some wall cupboards, and her little g-string clenched in her hands.

She had the look of a very frightened rabbit. Her eyes were staring, she was green, and she was rigid with fear. I crouched down in front of her.

"Hold me, Chris. Please, I can do it if you hold me. It will show you that your safe, won't it?"

"Yes, Molly. I know I'm safe. But Molly, I'm not going to have him pierce your pussy. It would be mutilation as far as I'm concerned. But I do want something."

She looked at me with huge, uncomprehending eyes staring out of a waxen greeny-white face.

"Listen to me, Molly. Listen to me. I want you to have your ears pierced. Will you do that for me Molly? Will you do that? Then you can wear diamond studs. I'll buy you some, tomorrow, and they'll match the diamond engagement ring I'll buy you. Please Molly, will you marry me? I need you in my life, so much."

Somehow, I got through to her. The look in her eyes changed, and she imperceptibly nodded. I looked round and the guy was standing with latex gloves on and a pen in his hand. I nodded at him, and he joined me, crouching on the floor. 

Molly just continued to stare at me as he carefully marked a spot on each earlobe, and looked hard, making sure they matched. He swabbed each ear with a sterile wipe. Then he took down a little plastic clip thing, which he slid up and over one of Molly's ears. He looked carefully and then suddenly there was a 'pop' sound, and he took his hand away, leaving the ear with a little gold stud in it. Molly blinked, but that was all. Within a minute he had repeated the action of the other ear, and he stood up.

"I've seen scared before, but nothing this bad. But it's all done. I don't think there's any point in me giving you instructions on looking after them. I'll go and find a written set." And he left us.

I lifted Molly to her feet, and sat her on the edge of the dentist's chair, and helped her put her g-string back on. The guy came back with a little leaflet and a glass of water. Five minutes later, Molly was fit to stand and walk. She still hadn't said anything. I paid the guy. I was feeling generous and grateful for his understanding, and I paid him as if he had done two labia piercings instead of simple earlobes and I helped Molly out of the shop. I guess the whole thing had taken less than twenty minutes, but we'd missed the theatre, not that it mattered.

I guided her back towards the car, and Molly's first words were "Where are we going?"

"Back to my flat."

"You did ask me to marry you, didn't you?"

"Yes, Molly. I asked you and you nodded. It's too late now to change your mind."

She stopped and turned towards me, "Never, ever. I love you Chris. So much."

"I know. I just saw it. And I love you, and I'm sorry that it took all this for me to see it, to know. But I don't regret making you have your ears pierced, every time I look at you or you look in a mirror we will see a reflection of our love." And I kissed her.

We just went back to my flat that night. We drank champagne and made love, and eventually at about eleven o'clock, we woke up to the world enough to feel hungry, and I had pizza delivered. Molly kept looking at herself in the mirror and saying things like, "It didn't hurt" or "It was all so quick" or "They don't hurt, even now".

By five past nine the next morning, we were in the best jewellers in town. I think they thought my request for a large diamond solitaire ring with matching ear studs a little odd, but they'd see what they could do. We were obviously taken seriously, because we went up a grade in assistants, and he produced a beautiful diamond ring, not quite solitaire because it had a baguette cut diamond either side of the main stone. But he gave us a quick lesson about cut and clarity and colour and weight, to convince us this was one of the best. And then he produced a set of diamond studs with a matching ornate diamond pendant, that he assured us was the same quality as the ring. 

"If you are buying the ring, sir, I'd be prepared to split the set, so that you could have the earrings."

Molly was still just staring at her left hand, with the ring. And beaming from ear to ear.

I asked him "How much?" and when he told me, I gulped and produced the plastic card from my wallet that had the biggest credit limit. But then I followed him to the cash desk and said, "I'll take the necklace as well, it'll be a nice wedding or birthday present later on." Funnily enough, he seemed to be in favour of that idea too.

From the jewellers it was straight to Ralph's house. We let ourselves in, but Ralph met us as he was coming out of the kitchen.

"Hi, you two." He looked at us again, "What's happened, you look sort of...Molly, you've had you're ears...." And his eyes immediately went to her left hand, and he smiled a very big smile, "Champagne. They're watching television, cartoons I think."

We went into the sitting room, but the boys hardly glanced at us, before their eyes returned to the screen.

"Jamie. Ben." I said firmly, "Turn that off, we've got something to tell you." And when we did, Jamie just smiled from ear to ear, ignored Molly and came and gave me the biggest hug I've ever had from him. But Ben just ran from the room, dodging Ralph who was standing in the doorway.

I was the first to find him, he was crouched down on the floor of Ralph's shed in the garden, and he was in floods of tears, "Ben, you should be happy. What is it?"

He looked at me, and between his sobs, "I am happy. But I can't stop crying. I don't now why."

Molly brushed past me, "Oh Ben, my darling. I'm so sorry. I made your Daddy go away for so long. But I told you I'd convince him to come back to us. I'm sorry, I hurt you so much." She hugged him to her, and looked round at me with real pain in her eyes and tears running down her cheeks.

I looked round, and Jamie was standing outside the shed, just watching, "Come on Jamie. We should all be in one this hug." And I pulled him to me as he stepped forward, and all four of us sat on the floor of the shed and just hugged and wept. 

Ralph found us like that. He had a bottle of champagne in his hand, and he just stood and watched. Eventually he said, "Come on, I'm thirsty."

As we were talking and drinking champagne, and we allowed the boys to have one glass each, Ralph looked at his watch. "What time is it in Australia? Have you told your Mother?"

I looked at Molly, "No. And I'm not going to yet. I've already booked the tickets for myself and the boys to go down there for Christmas, it can't be impossible to get a fourth ticket. Let her find out in the flesh, so to speak."

Molly kissed me, "When? I need to tell the hospital."

"We'll fly out on Friday the twenty first until the fifth of January. Today's the eighth, so in thirteen days time. And if the hospital gives you any problems, then just resign, you want to anyway." And I kissed her. "Carole can sort out the ticket and arrangements on Monday. It'll give her something to do."

Molly smiled, "She's been good to you."

I thought about Carole for a moment, "She's been more than good to me. I owe her. But don't let her know. An invite to the wedding will be enough, and cheaper than a present." And I smiled, and Molly knew I would ask her to help me buy Carole a big Christmas present from me.




Back to Bristol Ch. 21



Molly thought for a moment, "We'll be there for Ben's birthday."

I must have looked guilty, "Yes. I was going to have a word with you about that. Our tickets were open ended, in case you wanted him back earlier, and I had to get him back for his birthday, but I was hoping it'd be OK to stay longer."

She smiled, "Well, it doesn't matter now." There was going to be no rain on her parade.

The Company Annual Dinner and Dance was held at a big hotel just out of Bristol. Molly looked fabulous, and she couldn't stop smiling every time she looked at me, but when she wasn't looking at me she looked strained and nervous. 

We made our entrance, and I saw Piers and Jeanette. I held up Molly's left hand, and both of their faces lit up. But as they congratulated us, Piers said "So what was the problem?"

"Something she said, quite minor, in her original confession. That at that time when she succumbed to his ploys she said that she forgot about me. And buried deep in me was my memory and hatred of that phrase. Once we got over that, I was never more certain of anything in my life. I feel that I'm walking on air, that a five year nightmare is over."

He smiled, "Then at some stage I must finish your education and make sure that you get the worse hangover for five years to match."

Molly rather clung to my arm through the reception bit, except when we found Carole and Rick. And Carole's sheer joy as she hugged me, helped Molly feel more confident. But even then, she stayed close by me, until we got near to having to go into dinner, when she excused herself to go to the Ladies. 

I caught sight of Peter Davies. He was with a group from the Abbey, and they all seemed happy enough, laughing and joking. He saw me, and our eyes met for a second, and his face clouded.

But then Molly came back and she looked ashen and shaken. "What's wrong?"

"Just the stony silence as I went into the Ladies. And everyone just seems to be staring at me, and whispering. You wanted this, but not only is it horrid for me, but some of it will rub off on you."

I thought for a moment as we went into dinner. I noticed that there was a small stage set up at one end, which I knew was for some sketches that some of the staff put together to pull the legs of the executives in a short, after dinner revue. Apparently it was a tradition, and Carole had already warned me to take it in good humour. After that I was meant to make the Managing Director's speech, and then the dancing could begin. 

I turned to Molly, "Trust me." And I strode onto the stage, picked up the microphone and asked, "Can I have sound please."

That caught the stage crew unawares, but within a minute I not only had a working mike, but a spotlight trained on me.

"I'm sorry, Ladies and Gentlemen, but I understand that by tradition I'm meant to do my bit at the end of the Revue. But that would mean I can't have a drink until then. And I can't go without a drink that long, after all I've got a lot to make me drink - being your boss...."

And I gave them a pretty straightforward Managing Director's Christmas speech. I did a couple of good jokes, and told them how professional and good they all were, and what an exciting future we all had, and all the usual crap. But then I paused, and became personal.

".... A year is a long time in anyone's life. For some of us the last year has been the year that a dearly loved parent may have died. Or the year that our first child is born. Or the year that we see a child grow up and go off to college. For me, this has been a pretty exceptional year. A year ago I was Managing Director of our sister company, NDF in Apeldoorn in Holland. And I was hundreds of miles away from Bristol, the city where I was born and brought up, the city where I got married, and the city where my two sons still lived. I had no idea that I would be returning in February.....

And I went on with a fairly accurate but sanitized, and I hope heart-warming account of coming back to meet the woman I'd lost, lost to one of their good and well respected colleagues. And how we had re-found our love, and the years of pain and loneliness had rolled away. And then I told them that I was so pleased to announce that my ex-wife had agreed to become my new wife just last night. You could have heard a pin drop for a second, and just before the thunderous applause, you could here a door slam. I suspected that Peter Fucking Davies had just left the building.

I went on to ask them to be kind to Molly, it was her first public outing since our reconciliation. And then I went on to profusely thank Carole for putting up with me and all my mood swings, and got the spotlight to swing round onto her as she took a bow.

After that, Molly went from being the subject of scurrilous gossip, to the star of the show. And she rose to the occasion and shone.

We were just coming off the dance floor, as we had led off the dancing after dinner, when Piers sidled up to me.

"Nice speech. But you may not have noticed, but when you announced your engagement, Peter walked out."

"I heard the door and I assumed it was him."

Piers looked at me, and I could see concern in his eyes, "He's in the bar and making a valiant attempt to single-handedly drink it dry. He didn't eat, and it's all on an empty stomach. Do you think some of us should put him in a taxi and send him home?" 

I considered that, "Maybe getting drunk is what he needs to do. Give me ten minutes and I'll come and see for myself." And I turned back to receiving the handshakes and congratulations from a long line of colleagues.

Molly wasn't doing much better. She was sitting at our table, and as one person vacated the chair on her left, another would arrive on her right. Later she told me that everything was fine, except for those who wanted to know the details of how I proposed. They wanted to hear about me on one knee at the top of the Eiffel Tower, or at least at a candlelit dinner. And she couldn't really tell them it was crouching on the floor of a back street tattoo parlour, with her cringing in fear, on a rainy night in Bristol.

After about twenty minutes of bonhomie, I managed to find Piers and we went into the bar. It was surprisingly empty, just a few couples and one large group of young men, and Peter. He was standing alone at one end of the bar, next to the space for the waiters to come and go as they collected their orders for the main ballroom. In front of him he had a glass with what looked like a double brandy.

I stood with Piers, just looking at him, and wondering what to do or say, when he noticed us. He turned, with his glass in hand, and took two steps towards us. Then he clicked his heels, gave us a very deep bow, with a flourish of his hand, raised his glass in silent salute, and sipped his drink in a silent toast. Then he turned back to the bar.

I turned to Piers, "Let's hope that that was him bowing out."

"You reckon? I told you, if at first he doesn't succeed, he tries, tries and tries again."

I smiled grimly, "Well, then I really will have to be a fucking bastard."

Piers smiled, "In which case, I saw a bottle of Glenfiddich behind the bar......"

To be continued...



Back to Bristol Ch. 22



It was ten o'clock on the Sunday morning after the Company dance that I was in my living room, just collecting my suit jacket from the night before, which I'd left draped over a dining chair, and my phone rang.

I opened it and saw that Piers was calling me.

"Yes, Piers?"

"Chris." And the hairs on the back of my neck went up, there was something in his voice. "Is Molly with you?"

"She's in the kitchen. Why?"

"Peter's dead. I've just had a call from the Welsh Police, he crashed his car on a country road in the Black Mountains some time last night. A farmer found him at about six o'clock this morning."

I sat down, "He must have been pissed out of his mind. What the fuck was he doing driving? And driving on country roads in Wales for God's sake!"

"Because he was pissed. I guess he got it into his head to go and stay in his cottage. That's up there somewhere."

There was silence between us for a minute, then I asked, "What do you know?"

"Not a lot. It looks as if he came off the road on a bad bend. There was a fall down a hundred foot hillside. The farmer found him upside down in his car this morning and very dead. I was Number One in his phone, so they tried me first."

"Good God. You don't think it was...?"

I heard Piers take an inward breath. "It went through my mind. But we'll never know. And, for Molly's sake, it's better not even to think that it was a possibility. Let's leave it that he got drunk, and decided to go to the cottage and misjudged the bend."

"But he would have known that road well."

"Yes, he would. But that doesn't mean that he didn't make a mistake. Think about it Chris."

"Yes. Sorry. You're right. What happens now?"

"I'm going to go up to Abergavenny to sort out the formalities. I can't see they'll be any problem. I guess there'll have to be an inquest, but his blood alcohol should make it an open and shut case."

Just then Molly came into the room, took one look at me and just sat down on the sofa, looking at me and waiting.

"Piers, I've got to go. Molly's just come in. I'll talk to you again, later. Probably this afternoon."

I closed my phone and looked at Molly.

She looked back, "What is it? What did Piers want?"

"It's Peter." I leant forward and took hold of her hand, "He's dead."

Molly just sat there for a second or two, then her eyes were searching mine, I suddenly thought that I must drive any bad thoughts away with the facts, "He was found in a car wreck at the bottom of the hillside, having come off the road on a bad bend on the way to his cottage in Wales. He must have been very drunk, I told you he was in the bar last night."

"Oh! I know where. There's a horrible bend, totally unmarked or fenced, with a hundred foot drop to a stream at the bottom."

I smiled, I hoped reassuringly, "I think I know it too. It frightened the life out of me when I almost went over the edge. The silly thing is, I was driving too fast because Peter had upset me. Life does turn full circle somehow."

"You don't think he could have decided to do it on purpose, do you? You know, after we announced our engagement."

I moved to sit next to her, "No, I don't. You said yourself that Peter wasn't that type, and I certainly never saw any traits in him that he was weak and backed away from life. No, I don't." I paused to make sure she heard my words, "I guess we upset him last night. He saw that he had finally lost. He should have known that long ago, so it shouldn't have been that much of a surprise. But, anyway, he obviously drank too much last night. It is just one of life's unnecessary tragedies."

I hugged her, and she was very quiet. And that worried me.

After a couple of minutes of silence, I tried again. "And anyway, if he wanted to do away with himself, why drive halfway to his cottage to do it? No, that was where he went when he was upset. And he was upset last night, so he was going to his cottage, and he misjudged that bend."

After about another five minutes of silence, I got a "Yes. You're right. It was an accident when he was drunk. But we made him get drunk."

"No, Molly. He chose to get drunk. He could have danced the night away. He could have gone home and sulked. He could have driven to the cottage while he was still sober. He chose to go to the bar and knock back several brandies. This is not our fault. It's sad, but not our fault."

She turned and looked at me. "You're right. Peter chose every step he took. It just never turned out as he expected." Then she smiled, "I'm glad it wasn't you that came off the road there. When was that?"

And I told her about Peter's first visit to my office, and how frustrated and powerless he made me feel.

It wasn't long after that that we went over to Ralph's, and we told him. I let Molly tell him, I thought talking about it might help. But afterwards she was very quiet all day.

After the boys were in bed, Ralph caught me alone in the kitchen. "Give her time, Chris. It was a shock."

"I know. And she must have a lot of memories. I guess you can't be married to someone for four years without feeling something, even if it all ended in tears."

"Stay the night. I think she needs you here." 

I looked at him, "I'll have to get up even earlier. I have to get to the office early, there are some things to sort out. When I spoke to Piers this afternoon, I said I'd give him to ten o'clock to tell the Abbey staff first. Then I'd send round an email to all staff, including Exeter. So, I'm going to need a little time to compose that, and to get someone to write a little bio to attach."

Ralph listened, but then just said, "She doesn't seem to think it was her fault. You did well there."

"It wasn't. I just don't believe that he was the suicide type. Do you?"

Ralph considered that, "No. But when drunk and depressed?"

I shrugged my shoulders, "Who knows? It was either an accident, or when drunk he decided to end it all. But either way, it wasn't really intentional."

Ralph smiled, "You're right. Neither of you bear any responsibility, whatever he was thinking or doing."

Suddenly a thought went through my head, "Will you let Susan know?"

"If I have a chance. But we aren't talking, and I'm not going to make a special effort to tell her about her co-conspirator."

And then I had another thought, "Will you be alright here, by yourself over Christmas?"

He smiled, "Yes. Don't worry about me. I'll miss you all, but you mustn't lead your lives worrying about the old people."

"I'm sure there's plenty of life in you yet." And we left it there.

The next morning in the office, Carole bounced into my room with a big, beaming smile. But she took one look at my face, and totally deflated. I was in the middle of writing my little note on Peter's death, trying to find the honest words that would be acceptable. 

"What's happened?" was all she asked.

And I told her, and her reaction was almost predictable, "Poor Molly." 

But then it was back to business and I asked her to get me Neil Davidson. In the absence of any close relatives, I decided to volunteer the Personnel Depart to arrange the funeral. When I saw Neil, he was shocked, but business like on the arrangements. Of course he needed to talk to Piers to find out what was going on from the Police and the bureaucrats. But he would need some personal details about Peter's known relatives, who his solicitor was, and as much information as would give him help in winding things up. I couldn't avoid volunteering Molly, but only after I'd spoken to her on the phone, and got her agreement. Neil suggested that he'd send Sheila Armstrong around to see her. As he said, Sheila's kindly but efficient.

At ten o'clock I sent out my email to all staff that a senior colleague had died suddenly. I included the phrase 'although we had our differences in our private lives, Peter was nothing but courteous and professional at work' I thought that would acknowledge things without being unkind or hypocritical.

The day went well in all other respects. I did remember to ask Carole to get an extra flight to Australia for Molly. I also noticed that Peter's death was hardly mentioned to me. I wondered if that was because the death of a man in his mid-thirties was just unmentionable, or whether it was fear of what I might say or do. People don't like thoughts of death, and they don't like embarrassment.

Just after lunch, Carole came to me with some news, "I've just had Pamela on the phone. Stephen Parkinson wants to see you at three o'clock tomorrow, in his office."

I shrugged, "OK. I can't think what about. But I'll take the opportunity to get his approval of selling off Exeter, if I can. In fact, you'd better give me the files on all the major issues. Oh, and you'd better give my apologies to whoever I was meant to be seeing tomorrow afternoon."

She smiled, "That bit's been done already."

So at three o'clock on Tuesday December 11th, I was making small talk to Pamela when I heard The Old Man call me in. 

"Chris. I want to apologise. I know I haven't been the best of bosses, not always available when you wanted me, and all the rest. But I promise you, I've been reading every report you've sent in. Now, tell me, where are we in selling Marston Abbey?"

And of course, The Old Man was totally on top of his brief. We agreed that the Abbey plans could now go for outline planning permission, and that I'd liase with the Head Office departments, to make sure that everything was handled well, and that there would be no bad publicity. And then we moved on to Franks Engineering in Exeter. 

The Old Man turned to those pages on his briefing notes, and looked at the figures and the organisation chart of a couple of minutes. Then he looked up at me, "I guess you want to sell it off. That was your thinking last time we talked about it. Am I right?"

I nodded.

"Good. It's the right thing to do. On the open market, or do you have a likely buyer?"

"I think we could encourage a MBO. It's the right thing to do, I think, It's not a complete company as it stands, it's just an engineering shop. No accounting, no sales, and no central services of its own."

"OK. Have a private word, and see what you can do. It'd be good PR to sell it off to the staff anyway." He paused and studied me, "Now some months ago I suggested that you get yourself a good Number Two, someone with a bit of get up and go. Where are you on that?"

I remembered the conversation in Hawaii, but to be honest I hadn't done a lot about it, "I've seen how I can do it." I answered, thinking quickly, "Bill Elswood resigned, and I've been thinking of reorganising the whole of the production and client service side of the operation, possibly throwing in IT as well. It'd give me a chance to promote a couple of likely lads, and maybe get some better efficiency as well. I thought a Head of Operations, director level of course. What do you think?"

"I like the bit about improved efficiency. Try getting somebody good, someone with a bit of get up and go. You could do with some help at the top. Try finding someone that could do your job in a couple of years say. In the whole of ITI we're short of good guys coming up to the very top."

"OK. I'll get it organised."

Pamela came in with a tray of tea at that point. "Well done, Pam. Your timing is perfect. I wanted a change of pace." Stephen smiled at his ever loyal PA.

Stephen looked at me, "Is there anything else to report? I don't need the actual figures, I've got them all here, and they're looking good."

"Just one thing, a favour really, Stephen." I paused and he waited, "I was wondering if I could talk you into coming down one day next month and chairing a Board Meeting? Officially you are the Chairman of our Board. And if we're going to have to confirm what we're doing about both Marston Abbey and Franks Engineering, it might be nice if your there. And, if we can manage it, we might be able to get some short listed candidates for the Operations position in, or even our preferred choice. And it will be Dr Piers McBaine's first Board Meeting, it'd be nice if your there for that as well."

The Old Man smiled, "Of course. Have a word with Pamela, and get it in my diary. Three hours enough?" 

"Thank you. Everyone will appreciate it."

He poured the tea, and passed me a cup, "Now one more thing. You know we have those consultants, Hedgerton and Partners, looking at the Health Market strategy in North America for us?"

I nodded.

"Well, they've just about completed all their preliminary work. The next stage is for them to really start work in earnest to find us a series of health market service suppliers right across the States, that we can buy up and convert into a big and efficient chain."

"OK" I said, and nodded.

"Well, we should have a man working alongside of them. I'd like you to do it."

I was surprised to say the least, "Thank you. I'm pleased you thought of me. I was expecting to just be running Franks for the next year or two."

"Oh, you can go on doing that. That's why I want you to get a good number two in, so that you can leave all the day to day stuff with him. Or her, I suppose. You'll have to spend a lot of time in the States. Set up a new office, wherever you fancy. Personally I think I'd choose between Boston or San Francisco, they're very different, but they've both got their attractions." He paused to look at me, "It doesn't really matter, you'll be on the road a lot of the time for a year or two, as we find companies that interest us, so the base office will just be somewhere to get back to for the occasional desk day really."

My heart sank, I suddenly realised what he was proposing. Up to two years overseeing the takeover of several companies in the US, whilst remaining the MD of Franks in Bristol. Exactly the life I didn't want.

I hesitated, "Can I think about it, please? I'm just about to get married again, I was thinking that some time building that relationship would be important for the next few months."

"Oh, there's plenty of time. You don't need to decide for a couple of weeks. In fact, give me your answer when I come down to Bristol for that Board Meeting. The project won't start until about April. I could give it to the Consultancy boys here, it should really be their sort of thing anyway. But I remembered that you were a bit peeved that you weren't involved in the Franks takeover before it landed on your desk. You know, get in on the ground floor, Chris, in building the company's Health Division, and who knows where you'll end up."

There it is, I thought, the carrot. Do this and you're a shoo-in for being the Divisional Director for the Health Market, and a position on Main Board. 

The Old Man was watching me, and he tried one more little bit of persuasion, "I'm sure the passion of newly weds can survive a bit of separation for a few months. It's corporate life, I'm afraid. Time and tide and all that. Take your girl to the States, let her have a say in where you live."

I looked at him, he was pushing me hard on this one, I wondered why.  "I'm sorry, this is very unexpected. I promise I'll talk to her."

"Good. Judges 9:11"

And the meeting was over. I was just leaving his office, when he said, "Don't ask Pamela for a Bible. Go home and work it out for yourself." I smiled, and left.

I came out of The Old Man's office and stood there looking at Pamela. I knew she would know what he had offered me, nothing happens without Pamela knowing. 

"Well that was a surprise." I said.

"He has great faith in you, Chris. Maybe he's decided it's time to accelerate things."

I smiled, wondering why she was wondering, she knows what's going on in his mind. "Well, he's certainly doing that." And I left.

There really wasn't much for me to do, except go home. As I sat on the train I phoned Carole, who had the usual list of messages, some I could sort out by phone calls then and there, and she added comment that she was having trouble sorting out Molly's ticket for Australia, but she'd see me about that in the morning.

By the time I got to Bristol, there was no point in going into the office, it was too late, and I just went home. Molly hadn't turned up yet, so I made myself a cup of tea and went and found a copy of my employment contract. Much to my surprise I found I was on one year's notice. I'm not sure whether that was to my benefit or not. If they wanted to get rid of me, then it would cost them quite a bit, but if I resigned and they felt like being bastards, they could still have me flying around the United States for a year.

By the time I'd got to the end of those thoughts Molly turned up. I kissed her in welcome, "Good, I'm glad you're here. It's an excuse to have a very large G&T, I need one."

She looked concerned, and held her hand against my face, "What's wrong."

So I told her about my conversation with Stephen Parkinson. At the end, she looked ashen, but said, "We'll get through it, and it's only for a year or two. We could have a home in some good area where the boys could go to American schools. The variety might be good for them in the long run."

I shook my head, "No. It's what working for ITI can all be about. That we are meant to do whatever the Company needs, wherever the Company needs us. And I don't want to live like that. It means I'll have to resign."

Just then a thought struck me, what was Judges 9:11? I went and found a my Bible and looked it up, "The bastard. The fucking bastard. He's testing me." I looked up at Molly, and read out, "Should I forsake my sweetness, and my good fruit, and go to be promoted over the trees?" 

Molly looked at bit puzzled for a moment, then I added, "He knows exactly what he was doing. Frances must have told him that I was having real trouble about my job versus my family. So he wants to know: Am I for him or against him? Or more accurately for the Company or not? He's chosen to bring it to a head. I bet this assignment was well on the way to the International Consultancy guys before he decided to use it to test me."

"So what are you going to do?"

I must have looked fearful or nervous as I said, "Resign."

Molly sat down on the sofa and I sat next to her. She turned to me, "OK. We'll get through that as well. We're not broke, you know. The divorce settlement was over £300,000. And the boy's trust fund is nearly a quarter of a million, and that can be used for anything vaguely associated with their education."

I looked at her and smiled, "Well, now I know you didn't marry me for my money. We've never talked about money, have we? Do you know how much I've got tucked away in shares and on deposit?"

"No. Knowing you, you'd have put a bit away for a rainy day. But I guess you spent a lot as a bachelor enjoying yourself. I don't know,...... £50,000?" She looked hesitant.

"I'm worth just over one point three million." I said as matter-of-factly as I could, although I was really rather proud of myself.

She went very quiet. And then in a small voice said, "I'm glad I didn't know. I wanted you for you, not your money."

We spent the rest of the evening talking about money, on and off. But we did do some other things as well!

On the Tuesday, Carole met me with a problem, "I can't get four of you on one flight to Melbourne. I can do two and two. Or I've got a special deal on four business class. You've left it too late."

"Bugger. How much is the special deal?"

And she told me. "Ouch. But OK then. It is much nicer over that distance. Go on, what's money for if it's not to spend."

"OK. How was Stephen Parkinson yesterday, by the way?"

I smiled, "At his evil best." I chose not to tell Carole that my resignation was inevitable, but instead I said that I was having to think about my future.

All I could think about that Wednesday morning was my own future. And slowly some ideas of what that might be began to occur to me. At about noon I called in to Carole, "I don't think I've got a lunch today, have I?"




Back to Bristol Ch. 22



"No. I assumed you'd want to do your thing in the canteen."

"What's on this afternoon. I know I've got an accounts meeting, but what else?"

She looked at the diary, and gave me a list of four other internal meetings. Nothing was vital or time critical, "Give them my apologies, but I'm taking the afternoon off. If anything terrible happens, then phone me, but I want to talk to Molly."

Carole looked at me, "OK. Probably the best thing you can do." And I wondered how much she knew from some chat to Pamela.

I phoned Molly, "Hi, it's me and I'm wondering what you're doing for lunch."

"Not a lot. I thought I'd go home and get a sandwich. Why?"

"I was wondering if I could entice you to something more. If I called for you at one o'clock say?"

"I've got my car. Tell me where and I'll be there."

"OK. Outside the theatre at one fifteen. There are plenty of restaurants in King Street."

"OK. I'll look forward to it. I love you." And that was it.

We met as I suggested, and we walked down the road. Suddenly I decided it was time for her to face up to some final demons, and I headed for the lime green fronted Italian. And just as suddenly she saw where I intended, and she held back.

"No. Not there. Not three days after he died. It's bad enough, but not now, please Chris."

I turned and looked at her. Maybe I should press it. I hated the idea that there was a no go area in our lives. It was just a restaurant. It sold food. It didn't enforce adultery. I looked at her, but I loved her and relented. Instead, a turned to the other side of the road and chose the one that we had used on the day of our ill-fated tryst. She even seemed to have some doubts about that, but followed me.

As we sat down she said, "You're not going to let me off this are you? You'll drag me into that place if it's the last thing you do."

I looked at her, "Yes, I will. We have no secrets; no places that can't be visited; no bad memories that we haven't faced up to. But we haven't a time limit either." And I blew her a kiss.

"OK. Next time I'll go there."

We talked about my future, I was coming to terms about having to leave ITI, and I needed to talk to my partner about what the future held. But I was also concerned about her, I knew she was going through a rough time after Peter's death, and that was something that she couldn't really share with me. I could be there for her, but I couldn't share it with her.

She sounded weary and hesitant combined, "Sheila Armstrong phoned me this morning. They've taken up my suggestion that Peter is buried up in Nottinghamshire near his mother and father. They have preliminary plans that it will be next Wednesday, a week today, assuming the coroner will release the body."

I nodded, I'd seen an email from Sheila this morning. "I won't be there. But don't let me influence you, I quite understand that you would want to be there. I'll chauffeur you if you want, but it'd be wrong for me to pretend to mourn him."

She looked at me and nodded, but didn't say anything.

After that we talked about my job. I'd decided that I'd hang on until the January Board Meeting. I'd only resign when I had to. I'd decline the offer of going to the States, and wait for Stephen to push me, and only when pushed would I resign. We talked a little about my wanting to be my own master. But, try as we might, neither of us could come up with the start-up opportunity that lit the fire in my belly that I needed. 

And then I tried her on my other thought, "How do you fancy living in Exeter?" and we talked about the MBO, and the possibility of my being part of it. I told her that I could only do it if I had the support of Stephen Hobbs and the guys in Exeter, and that I'd go and see them soon.

After lunch we walked, hand in hand, back down to the car park. As we stood beside her car, I kissed her, "I don't suppose I could talk you into coming back to my flat for a coffee, could I?"

She saw the reference, "Easily. But I can drive myself this time. And you don't have to seduce me. You can just send me into the bedroom and tell me to take my clothes off."

I didn't quite do it like that, because I undressed her. And what delighted me was that when I took her dress off, I found that she was wearing quite a sexy bra and matching panties and suspender belt all in powder blue, with dark brown stockings. I recognised them all as one of the sets I'd bought her on her birthday weekend.

"You look good. Thank you."

She smiled and kissed me, "It's important to me as well. I wake up in the morning and my first thought is you. And especially if you're not there, then I spend a moment thinking: I wonder what he'd like to find me in today, if you were to surprise me as you have today. It brings me closer to you somehow."

I told her that I loved her, then I kissed her and we made love. And after we'd showered, we did something else that was important to me, for the first time ever I went with her to pick up the boys from school. I needed my family around me as I faced an unknown future, and they were there.

We got through to the day of Peter's funeral, Wednesday December 19th. Molly had stayed with me the night before, she never complained about this weird life she had, where some nights she stayed over with me, and had to get home early enough to get the boys to school, and other nights she went home. But I knew it must be a strain, and the sooner we got to all four of us back under one roof the better.

Anyway, that morning I was sitting up in bed watching her get dressed. She had to leave quite early for the long drive to Nottinghamshire and the funeral. Although I'd offered to be her chauffer, I think this was something she wanted to do alone. She was sitting on the bedroom chair staring into her jewellery box. In it, I knew, were her engagement and wedding rings from Peter. I wondered if for that day she was going to wear them. Maybe not on her wedding finger, but on the other hand, or on a chain around her neck, or even just carry them, as some sort of last tribute to the four years they had shared, good or bad. But then I realised that she knew I was watching her, and that was unfair to her. So, I got up and had a shower.

I wasn't going into the office that day. It would have been hypocritical of me to go to the funeral, but somehow I wanted to be around if Molly needed me. In truth I wanted her to need me, but knew she was strong and self-sufficient. After breakfast, I kissed her goodbye and told her to drive carefully, and to phone me if she had any problem. She looked pale and white and nervous.

As soon as she had left, I went into the bedroom and checked the jewellery box. Neither of Peter's rings were there.

I didn't have a lot to do. I had a meeting with Stephen Hobbs and his senior colleagues planned for mid-morning, to tell them that ITI was going to put their operation up for sale. I just hoped they'd accept my tentative suggestion that I might help them in that. And for the afternoon, I had a shopping list of things to buy for Christmas, and for the boys for their trip to Australia.

The morning meeting with Franks Engineering went as well as can be expected. Telling a bunch of guys that their whole future is in jeopardy is never easy to say (or to hear). But the significant thing was the lunch with Stephen afterwards. 

I opened with, "I meant it, Stephen. I really am sorry to be the one having to throw such a spanner in the works. It was my idea, and for ITI it's right. But I am sorry for the uncertainty it brings everybody. I hope you'll see it as an opportunity. "


He looked at me, "It's not your fault, Chris. It's life these days. I just wish we had a way of actually putting an MBO together. Then at least we'd be masters of our own destiny. What with TDF and now ITI, I think we've had just about enough of big corporations.  I think most of us would just love to go back to what we used to be, a profitable, professional specialist engineering company, with no special allegiances to anyone."

"Then, why don't you? Here is a golden opportunity. I'm pretty sure ITI would give you some secure contract for the next few years. What else are they going to do? They need you, but it just doesn't make sense to own you. That's a great jumping off ground."

"You see, you immediately see a way forward." He paused and looked at me, "How do you see your future. With this sale, your empire has just got a little smaller. Have you been a bad boy?"

I smiled, "No. In fact it appears I've been a very good boy. They have plans for me to be whizzing off all over the world building a bigger and better Health Division."

He looked at me, slightly surprised, "You sound slightly cynical. Isn't it the future you planned?"

I gave him a wry smile, "You're not the only one who wishes he was the master of his own destiny."

"Well, I hinted once that what we need is a leader. You didn't take me up on it. Any chance that I could convince you this time?"

And that was the answer I wanted. By the end of lunch we'd agreed to keep in close touch, and to meet up again as soon as I was back from Australia.

I got back to my flat with all my shopping errands done. I was feeling satisfied with my day. I checked my watch, the funeral was long over, and Molly should be well on her way home. Our agreement was that she'd call just call in to Ralph's to see the boys, and then come on to me. I was tempted to go round to Ralph's and meet her as soon as she got back, but I thought we might need some privacy. I knew Ralph would respect that, but I equally knew that the boys wouldn't. So I sat around and waited.

Eventually she got to me. She looked tired, but I couldn't read anything else.

So, as I poured her a G&T to match my half drunk one, I asked "How was it?" 

She shrugged, "About as I expected. There weren't many there. Some from the Abbey and Piers and Jeanette, of course. Some cousins I think I've met before. One old school friend who got to hear of it from somewhere. Susan, someone must have told her. And an old couple who were neighbours of his mother's. Oh, and Sheila Armstrong, who organised everything. She was ever so kind, but she sort of stayed in the background."

"Was it hard?" I asked, as I handed her the G&T.

"Not as hard as it might have been. It was odd, saying goodbye. Somehow, I don't think I was quite ready for him to be dead." She paused and sipped her drink. "Mmmm...I needed that." She looked at me, "You started out hating him, I know you did and I don't blame you. But now I think you don't feel a lot about him. Me? I started out liking him, respecting him and feeling sorry for the way I was treating him. But I'm the one that grew to hate him."

"Just let him go, Molly. For your own sake."

"That's what Jeanette said. When the mourners left the grave side, I just stood there wondering what I felt about him. And Jeanette came back to see if I was alright. She asked if I had stopped hating him yet. She even asked if I'd forgiven him. And I think I have. I certainly don't hate him anymore, I just hate what he did. I think I see him as a tragic figure now, he got hurt as much as anybody by what he did."

Then she looked up at me, "I know you were watching me looking at his rings this morning. I was wondering what to do with them. I stopped three times on the way up, until I found what I wanted. I had to buy a stupid little collection of plastic children's jewellery, but I got a little black velvet pouch with it. That's what I wanted. I put his rings in it, and when it came to the bit where you throw a handful of dirt into the grave, I threw the rings. I gave them back to him. I should never have had them in the first place."

I sipped my drink, partly to cover up that I didn't have anything to say to that.

"And as Jeanette led me away from the grave side, Susan came up. She said that all she ever did was to try to help a man who was in love with me and wanted me when you rejected me. Then she said that it was Peter that asked her to buy the Longleat tickets, and that it was his idea to swap the letters."

"And what did you say?"

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing. It's a rewrite of history, conveniently coming along after his death. If he wanted Longleat tickets why wouldn't he buy them himself, even if he was going to lie about where they came from? And she forgets, the reason I was writing to you was that I had been given a few days break from the pressure of Peter, I might have even been beginning to think straight. He was at a week's conference in Harvard at the time."

I just held her in my arms for a long quiet hug.

Epilogue:

Well, that's over a year ago now, and Peter's name hardly ever gets mentioned these days. It's not that he's unmentionable, it's just that he's not very important to us. And partly because this last year has given us so many good memories.

But the first thing I remember after the day of Peter's funeral was the very next day, and it was fortuitous but somehow distasteful. Neil Davidson came into see me. 

"Chris, I've got something that I think I should tell you. I've checked the records, and Peter Davies never re-assigned the beneficiary of his Company life assurance. It says Molly Davies. And I've checked with the insurance company, and Molly Davies gets it. In this day and age, with so many odd relationships in people's lives, the named person gets it whatever their relationship to the deceased."

I looked at him. "How much?"

"Exactly? I can't remember. But something over £300,000. Four times his gross salary."

"Oh! I wonder how that's going to go down." I pondered.

Neil looked sympathetic, "I wondered. Will she have problems? Do you want me to start investigating if it can be transferred to a charity say, without tax implications?"

I looked at Neil for several seconds while I decided, "No. I take it you're writing to her? I'll tell her tonight. And I honestly couldn't tell you how she's going to react."

In fact, when I very hesitatingly told Molly, she wasn't over the moon about it, but seemed to think that she was the lucky recipient of a bureaucratic error, and it wasn't Peter's money but the insurance company's. And it might help if I was going to be unemployed.

After that bittersweet memory, I remember a far happier one, Mum's face when a family of four walked out into the Arrivals Hall at Melbourne airport. She just didn't know what to do with herself. She did do one thing that pleased me, she went straight up to Molly and hugged her, even before she acknowledged the boys, let alone me. 

The Christmas in Melbourne was great. Within two hours of us all getting back to Len and Mum's house, Len had phoned Ralph and he was on his way. He made it by a circuitous route on Christmas Eve. Mind you, he only stayed with us for a few days before he was off in his hire car for every botanical garden in Southern Australia. Then back with us to celebrate Ben's birthday, when we had a beach barbeque which made it very memorable for a little boy with a January birthday. But then Ralph was off for a visit to New Zealand, before he headed home to hear his divorce petition granted.

While we were in Australia, Molly and myself did some real wedding planning. And Mum got involved, and she was so happy. She'd been little more than a guest flying in our first wedding, and she just loved talking to Molly about our plans. We chose to get married again on the 23rd April, our old wedding anniversary. We'd overwrite one anniversary with another. And we decided that we'd have as simple and minimal ceremony as possible, we just wanted to put right a five year mistake. But the party afterwards, well that was a different matter.

And then we came back and a couple of weeks later it was my birthday. And that I made very special. The boys gave me a book on malt whiskey and a bottle of the stuff to drink while I read it, and Molly gave me some diamond cufflinks. As she said, "I know you hate jewellery for yourself, but I wanted you to have some diamonds as well."

In the evening, I took Molly out to dinner. And on the day when she could refuse me nothing, I took the opportunity to solve the problem of the little lime green painted restaurant in King Street. But first, I had her dress in that little open topped corset thing under her dress. She'd modelled it for me on a couple of occasions in the bedroom, but she'd never worn it out. But it was the night when she couldn't say No.

She looked at bit hesitant when I determinedly headed for the restaurant, but she just said, "I might have known. But this place does have some bad memories for me."

"We'll overwrite them. Promise." I said and kissed her.

Once our drinks had been served, I told her, "I want you to go to the Ladies and take off that g-string." She gulped, but smiled. And then I continued, "And I want you to work at least two fingers into yourself and then come back. I want to kiss wet fingers that are smelling of you." At that she went slightly pale. 

She sipped her drink, looked at me, sipped her drink again and said, "Dutch courage. God, it's bad enough sitting here feeling my boobs floating around. This basque makes me feel so sexy, it sort of holds me firm which just accents that it isn't holding my boobs." She sipped her drink again, and then headed for the Ladies.

When she returned, she made her right hand prominently available to me, and I took hold of it and kissed it, and gently licked her fingers. 

"I don't think I'll ever think about that Ladies the same way again." She said with a smile.

Through the dinner, I constantly mentioned sex in various ways. And I knew she was getting more and more excited.

Once we got to the coffee, I said, "Do you know what's going to happen when we get back to the flat?"

She smiled, "I hope it's what I want to happen. God, you've been cruel tonight, Chris. And I love it, even if I am squirming a bit."

"You're going to give yourself like you've never given yourself before."

"That sounds interesting." She smiled, and then a thought crossed her mind, "Anal? I haven't done that in years. I've been sort of putting it off, just a bit scared I suppose. OK, then."

"No, more than that. First you are going to suck me and lick me until I'm as hard and as near to bursting as you've ever managed. Then you are going to turn round, and you're going to fuck me with your bottom. I told you about it. You're going to impale yourself and you're going to do the work. I'll just keep still and have you give me the pleasure of your bottom."

Now she did gulp and go pale, "I'm not sure I can. I don't mind you doing it to me, but me doing it to me, I just don't think I can."

"Don't you want to give yourself totally? Don't you want to give me the pleasure? Think of it as your final atonement. You wanted that, but this way it's you giving yourself to me more than ever before, not me taking you. I've done that many times. Tonight you give yourself to me."

She sipped her coffee. "I'll try."

And she did, and it was great. We took our time, and I had plenty of lube handy. But she did impale herself, and then rock backwards and forwards, fucking herself on me. And I was quite still, well I was quite still until it all got a bit overwhelming, when I was fucking her as much as she was fucking me.

Afterwards, we lay on the bed, and she looked at me, "I love you Chris. You do know that, don't you."

I kissed her, "Yes, and I love you."

"And I want you to have me do that again, once in a while. I felt so totally yours, you were all I was thinking about. And I liked that. You can have me anally whenever you like, but just once in a while, when you think I need it or you need it, make me do that again."

"And how do you feel about that restaurant now?"

"I think I'll never forget this evening. I've never felt so naughty and sexy, and loved and loving. It'll never be my favourite restaurant, but now I've got some good memories to counter the bad."




Back to Bristol Ch. 22



"Thank you." I said, and I kissed her, "Now you haven't cum yet. And I don't think I can help much for a minute or two. Unless you encourage me with your mouth, of course. Or you could give me a show of your own handiwork...." And we settled for a night of wonderful debauchery.

On the Wednesday, six days after my birthday, there was the January Board Meeting. Stephen Parkinson did us proud. He had decided to spend the whole day with us, touring the factory, and shaking so many hands. And then he settled into the interview process for the three short-listed candidates for the Director of Operations position. All three were quite exceptional, but one stood out head and shoulders above the rest. A guy called Miles Poynter, he was thirty three years old, and a very bright lad. I was sorry that I wasn't going to have long working with him.

After lunch we had the Board Meeting, and we agreed the sale and redevelopment of Marston Abbey. And we approved the offer that was going to Miles Poynter. And we agreed to put Franks Engineering in Exeter up for sale, preferably as an MBO. It all went very well. And then, after everyone else had left, Stephen and myself went back to my office.

Although he had seen it several times before, Stephen looked at it all, "This office is bigger than mine. I remember it from my visit at the time of the takeover, but then it was so bloody miserable it didn't matter how big it was. Now, I'm jealous."

"It's not my fault." I defended myself, "I wanted to re-organise my way out of it, but that was simply too expensive. So, instead I made it better."

"And are you hoping to cling to it, or are you off to America, Chris? I need your answer."

I looked at him and I thought I'd let him do the work. I was volunteering nothing at this stage. "I'm not going to the States. It's at a wrong time in my life. I'm sorry Stephen."

He sat down at a chair at my desk, "And there's nothing I can say to change your mind?"

"I'm sorry Stephen. I love this company. But I love my family more. That's what this is all about, isn't it. It doesn't really matter whether I do this US assignment or not. But you want to know what comes first in my life. And that's simple, my wife and family."

He sighed, "You're right. I do talk to my wife, you know. And I couldn't let it rest. You are marked out for great things, you know that. But I couldn't have you failing when the time was critical. You'll have to forgive me for pushing you."

"I know. At some stage I would have had to make this decision. What happens now?"

"Well, you have a contract. I could order you to go. Maybe I should, because at some point I will have to. If not this assignment, then another one. And when I do?"

"I'll resign."

We just looked at each other in silence for a couple of minutes.

Eventually he spoke, "I thought you might. Well, I guess with my Company hat on, there's no time like the present."

Was he just pushing me? Go now or not at all? There was only one answer, "I'll put it in writing tonight."

"Damn, Chris. I don't want to see you go. I had hoped that one day, in my dotage I'd be sitting reading the business pages and there would be the announcement of you taking over as CEO."

"I know. But the price is too high. You know I talked to Frances. She told me that she was willing to be your partner in this commitment you have to ITI. I know that Molly is committed to me just as strongly, but not to ITI or just material things."

He bowed his head for a moment, and then looked up, "I envy you. I was so burningly ambitious I never asked those questions. I was lucky when it turned out that Frances was always at my side, she would have had every right to say to No. But I know we paid a hell of a price for my success. Don't ask me which one of us has got it right, but I do wish you well. You must ask myself and Frances to the wedding. I'd like that, and I know she would."

"23rd April. I'll make sure your invited."

"What do I do about this place after you've gone?"

"My advice would be to put Piers McBaine in charge. He's a good man, and it'd give the Company a hell of a credibility boost in the market to have him as MD. But he'd need that Miles Poynter to back him up. And then Piers has only got three or four years to go, by which time Miles, if he's as good as we think he is, will be able to take over."

"That sounds fair. What will you do? Any idea yet?"

I smiled, this was the bombshell, "Yes. I'll lead the MBO of Franks Engineering."

The Old Man paused, and looked at me, "Well I won't make a big song and dance about it. Nothing's going to happen on that one in the next couple of days. But I can't have you negotiate with yourself for the MBO. So, you'd better clear your desk and be gone by Friday. Gardening leave until your contract expires."

Now that was a surprise, I had all sorts of veiled legal threats up my sleeve to try and get out of my one year notice. Only for him to give it to me on a plate.

As Stephen left he paused in Carole's office, and turned to me, "Matthew 25:21." And for once I recognised it. 

I smiled, "Psalms 30:12"

Stephen paused and thought, and then his whole face softened for a moment, and he shook my hand vigorously and left.

Carole looked at me, "Translation?"

I smiled, "His was: Well done, thou good and faithful servant. And I replied: O Lord my God, I will give thanks unto Thee for ever." I paused and smiled, "I will admit that I had to look it up last night, in the hope that I'd get to use it."

I turned back into my office. Carole followed me, "And are you pleased with the day?"

I sat at my desk and indicated that she should sit down, "Yes. On the whole, Yes. But I'm sorry, Carole, but The Old Man just forced my resignation. I had a choice of being promoted to spend my days in hotels and aircraft or resign. I chose Molly and my family."

Carole just looked at me, "Shit happens." And then she burst into tears and ran from the room.

I did clear my desk by Friday. And the Company did a very quick settlement with me, of a year's salary, tax free, and the Jag. And so I had the time to do the round of bankers and investors and venture capitalists that I needed. ITI made one mistake, they appointed Myra onto their team for negotiating the sale of the Engineering group. And although she was properly professional, it made life a lot easier.

It was two weeks later. Carole had phoned me, and I'd invited her to lunch, I thought I owed it to her as a big thank you. But then she surprised me, "Chris, will you be needing a secretary in Exeter?"

I looked at her, almost stunned for a moment, "Yes. Are you asking? Because if you are, then it's yours for the taking."

"I'm asking."

"Well I can't afford to pay you what you're earning now. And I can't afford to pay you any moving costs. But why?"

"I've talked to Rick about it. And we reckon that the twins are never going to come home to live. So we might as well sell up, and a little cottage around Exeter might be nice. Rick can sell his company, there are a couple of lads in Bristol, they're quite good according to Rick, and they'll give him a bit for the trading name and client list. And then he won't do private work anymore. He'll contract with some house builders for the plumbing of new houses. So there'll be no clients phoning up in the middle of the night. I still want to work, but fewer hours than I do now. So if I could make half of what I do now, then I'd be happy."

"Well, I can afford a little more than that, so I hope we've got a deal."

At the beginning of March, Molly and myself had to send out the invitations to our wedding. I asked her about Susan. There was still a part of me that just wished Susan would find some way of apologising, and that Molly could find some way of building some form of distant but tolerable relationship. But Molly's reply was succinct, "She never wanted this wedding. I wouldn't insult her by inviting her to celebrate it."

I did insist that we invited Brenda and Derek. First, I quite liked them. But it was also that I didn't want Jamie and Ben to lose total contact with their maternal family. But, that led to Brenda phoning me to say that Susan had found out, and that she had every intention of coming anyway, invited or not.

I told Molly, and her reaction was simple, "We'll go and see her."

By then Susan was living in a little apartment quite close to Brenda and Derek's guesthouse. We parked outside, and Molly, very firmly holding my hand, led the way to the front door. She rang the bell, and Susan answered it.

"Oh." You could see her stiffen as she saw us. "I knew you'd come sooner or later. Come in." And she stepped backward.

"That won't be necessary." Molly said, "I just wanted to say that I know that when I last spoke to you, not Peter's funeral, but when I last said anything to you, I was very angry and upset and I said a lot of things that you must have found horrid....."

"That's alright. I'll forgive you, it was an emotional time for you and you are my daughter...."

"No. I want you to know that I meant every word of it." She paused and Susan looked shocked and she paled. But Molly continued, "I do not want you at my wedding, please don't come. The staff will be given clear instructions to throw you out, and I'm sure you'd find that embarrassing."

Susan bristled, "But....but I'm you're Mother. I've got a right.... I only wanted you to be happy...."

"No. You only wanted you to be happy. You didn't give a damn about me and my happiness, or my children's, or my husband's. You happily lied and cheated and betrayed us, just to get what you wanted. It was just you you you."

Molly turned and started walking away, and I turned with her. But then I turned back to Susan, "The thing is I've resigned from ITI. I've bought into a company in Exeter. So, we'll have a family home just an hour down the road from Bristol, and I'm sure Ralph will visit often. All you ever wanted, really. But now you won't be part of it. If only you could have loved and trusted us more."

And I turned and we walked away. I put my arm around Molly, who said, "Get me to the car and just drive away. I don't want her to see me crying. I had to do it, but it was so sad."  

The wedding was wonderful. We chose a small country mansion that was given over to nothing but conferences and weddings and big entertaining. And the service was as simple and as straightforward as we hoped. The reception afterwards was magnificent. We didn't have a big guest list, but no expense was spared in the catering or entertainment.

Keith and Anne Walters were there, they flew in from San Diego. They looked suntanned, fit and happy. 

Stephen and Frances Parkinson were there. They made quite an entrance in arriving by helicopter, and by doing so they instantly became Jamie and Ben's heroes. And I was delighted to see them. Molly took the opportunity to thank them again for their wedding present. It was our honeymoon. Two first class tickets to the Bahamas, where we were to stay in their holiday home for two weeks. 

Stephen took me on one side, and said, "You don't have to worry about being relaxed and doing what comes naturally; the staff are the height of discretion. Our daughter took some of her chums out there after she graduated. And from what she's told me since, about the couple who did it on a sun-lounger by the pool one afternoon, or the skinny dipping at night, I guess she had a pretty wild time. If she was willing to tell me about those bits, what were the bits that she didn't like to tell her Father about? But I've never heard a word of it from any of the staff. Enjoy yourselves."

I had no sooner shaken Stephen's hand than I found myself talking to Myra. 

"How's Franks?" I asked.

"From the little I see of it? Piers is doing well, but I don't really know. I'm not there a lot these days. I'm mainly in London again, but they are trying to edge me towards the International Consultancy team."

I smiled, "Congratulations. That's a promotion. Well done." She wasn't smiling and I hesitated, "Or commiserations. What's wrong with the idea?"

"I think that if you drew a commuting belt around Exeter University I don't think much of it would fall under the classification of International."

I laughed, "Does that mean you and Will are getting serious?"

"I know I am. I just don't know about him. But me being anywhere else in the world isn't going to help. I can't seduce him into marriage by email."

"I'll be looking for a Finance Director. It's a better title, but I expect it isn't exactly promotion in actual work. And definitely less pay."

She looked up and I thought she looked interested, and she sounded it, "Not now. Here comes Will." And Will appeared from behind me, just as Myra was saying, "I might buy you lunch, on ITI of course, when you get back from your honeymoon."

I shook Will's hand, but he rather ignored me. He looked a bit pale, and looked at Myra, "You don't fancy a breath of fresh air do you?"

And they were off before I had time to commiserate on the combination of champagne, noise and excitement.

I looked around the room, primarily looking for my bride. But as I scanned around I saw Ralph sitting at a table with Brenda and Derek, and in deep conversation. Now that was a surprise. Then I spotted Molly, and headed over to her.

She was talking to Jeanette. Molly smiled, squeezed my hand and mouthed 'I love you'. 

"You can say it out loud, on today of all days." I said and leant in for a little kiss. 

Jeanette said, "I was just saying to Molly, I've only ever attended two civil marriages in my life. And both were for Molly. And I've told her, I don't want a third."

"There won't be a third. I promise." I said, and hugged my wife. 

I looked around the room. I saw Mum and Carole, and they didn't look happy. But as I was about to head their way, Molly stopped me. "No. You of all people can't go. I think its Real Mum and Proxy Mum are having a falling out. Let them get on with it." And we smiled, and I stayed where I was. But I watched. Len leant over and said something to Rick, and then both men stood up and obviously invited the other's wife to dance.

Molly was also watching, "There. Len and Rick are sorting it out. Leave them to it."

I wondered where Jamie and Ben were, and I went in search. Before I found them, I bumped into Ralph.

"I saw you talking to Brenda and Derek."

He half smiled, "It was time to bury the hatchet. Years and years ago, Brenda told me some things that I didn't much like, and I told her she was wrong. Well, I've known for over twenty years that I was wrong, and she was right. I thought it about time I apologised." And he smiled.

That explained a lot! Now I could understand his divorce.

I found Jamie and Ben. Morag had Ben with her brood. And Jamie was sitting listening to his Uncle Brian. They were out on the terrace, and Brian appeared to be reciting the whole of Samuel Taylor Coleridge's Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner from memory to his enthralled audience of one.

I went back to Molly. But as I arrived, Myra and Will came through the door, hand in hand and smiling from ear to ear. 

I didn't say a thing, but Myra did, "I could take you up on your suggestion. We're not going to say anything today, it's your day. But, I'm going to need that job in Exeter."

I shook Will's hand, and gave Myra a kiss. And Molly smiled, but looked mystified, until I whispered "I'll explain later. Just congratulate them."

Just at dusk, I went out onto the terrace for a breath of fresh air. I found I wasn't alone, Derek was there.

"Derek, I don't want you and Brenda to be strangers. It's important that the boys don't lose contact with Molly's side of the family. She doesn't want them to see Susan, but if you and Brenda could come and see us once in a while, when we've got ourselves settled in Exeter, then you'd be most welcome."

He turned and looked at me, "Thank you Chris. If it's any consolation, I think you were right about Susan. She's turned very bitter. Now, it was all Peter's fault. She only did things that he got her to do. We never had any of that whilst he was alive. Funny how stories change, isn't it?"

"She knows what she did, but she will still argue that it was understandable. She'll never admit it or apologise." I turned round, Brenda was standing behind me, and must have heard Derek. She went on, "We left her in charge of the guests this morning so that we could come here. She found that hard, being left behind while we went to her daughter's wedding. I think, but I'm not sure, I saw her wiping a tear from her eye when she thought she was alone. When she saw me she said the thought she had a cold coming."

Not long after that, many of us were out on the terrace watching the Parkinsons leave, as their helicopter took off. I had my arm around Molly, and kept an eye on Ben who seemed determined to fall off the terrace into the fish pond below, when I heard a Scottish voice behind me.

"Champagne's all very well, but you'd think an FB would serve a decent drink on his wedding day."

I didn't turn round, "If you ask nicely Piers, I think you'll find that a waiter can bring you a Blair Athol."

There was a very short pause, then the same voice, "The day's not turning out so bad after all."

And it didn't, Molly and myself were married. And now we're hurtling towards our first anniversary. At least I've got a nice diamond necklace tucked away as a present.

We bought a house in a village just outside Exeter. It's big and fairly ugly, but it had the atmosphere of a happy family home. It came in five acres of gardens and paddocks. And it had what the agent details referred to as a guest/staff cottage. I had my eye on that as the world headquarters of Chris Bennett Enterprises. But instead we did a deal with Ralph. He lives there rent free, but the upkeep of the garden is totally his responsibility.

And is Ralph happy? Well, if you asked me for a picture of total contentment, I'd say I saw it about two weeks ago. I was watching him one evening on his lawn tractor going up and down the lawn, with his two grandsons insisting on playing football around him, and the two dogs insisting on playing football with their young masters. And the look on Ralph's face was one of total contentment and joy. 

I suspect that's partly helped by what I've seen for a few mornings recently when I get up at six o'clock and go down to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. I catch a glimpse of the white Honda that belongs to the widow who runs the post office and general stores in the village, just pulling out of Ralph's drive. He hasn't said anything yet, but if it's important then I'm sure he will. Maybe he'll say something when he gets back from his eighteen day botanical tour of China next month. Molly says it's a bit odd buying stamps from a lady who may just be a passing fancy, but equally maybe her future step-mother. 

And Molly? Is she happy? Well, I hope so. She's looking good, but then women who are seven months pregnant often look blooming. Obviously with our move to Exeter she had to give up working at the hospital, and instead she launched her private practice. It was a hesitant start, but then one of our neighbours heard of her, and he was a producer on the local radio station. He got her started with an occasional slot on a morning phone-in, but now she has her only regular weekly schedule. And from that, television's picked her up as an occasional expert for one of the daytime magazine shows. She earns five times what she was earning at the hospital, and she can pick and choose her patients. So she's the media junky now.

One interesting little side effect: she's lost her phobia of needles. I won't say she's volunteering for a tattoo, but she can cope. And she changes her earrings every day with no problems whatsoever.




Back to Bristol Ch. 22



And me? Well, I'm very happy as the Managing Director of B&A Engineering. It was going to be Bennett & Associates, but before we even registered it, we all agreed that it was a bit of a mouthful, so B&A it became. 

And our biggest outside shareholder, after the finance boys? Well, that's Lady Parkinson. Yes, Stephen's knighthood was announced in the New Year Honours. Frances put one million into our little venture, and we have an unwritten agreement that Sir Stephen will be our Chairman as soon as he retires from ITI. I think she sees a monthly trip to Exeter from Cirencester as a nice day out.

And, am I happy? Yes, more than I ever hoped or deserved. Of course, if I look back I can get angry and hurt and sad. So the trick is not to look back.

THE END